#yes we have indeed reached: seeing red

[variousqueerthings]

we've reached the episode where it all goes to heck

[aemondsbabe]

Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince. 

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?” 

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.” 

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come. 

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers. 

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips. 

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk. 

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar. 

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon. 

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.” 

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all. 

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound. 

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands. 

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor. 

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you. 

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one. 

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. 

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp. 

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal. 

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you. 

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.” 

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side ��� his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed. 

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone. 

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it. 

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface. 

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye. 

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that. 

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true. 

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them. 

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt. 

“If… if I had n-not been at the…” 

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation. 

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt. 

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest. 

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his. 

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident. 

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know. 

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle. 

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart. 

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out. 

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother. 

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter. 

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself. 

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out. 

If only he could see himself as you do. 

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love. 

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none. 

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods. 

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung. 

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline. 

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse. 

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out. 

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare… 

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat. 

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin. 

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his. 

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind. 

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this. 

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest. 

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders. 

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him. 

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck. 

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse. 

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric. 

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching. 

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling. 

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this. 

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts. 

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively. 

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent. 

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint. 

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs. 

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries. 

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you. 

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust. 

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire. 

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on. 

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second. 

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. 

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest. 

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it. 

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you. 

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again. 

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you. 

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision. 

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock. 

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach. 

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return. 

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you. 

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. 

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily. 

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[rookiesbookies]

The boys catch their ladies reading smut, originally this had the books I was basing this on in them but I hadn't got the time to read the books so I remove the book titles and authors. I hope you enjoy <3

Price: Yeah, she’s younger than him. This book is like 100% just breeding kinks. So she was reading this book about a man breeding his young woman and being super obsessive and clinging… while sitting in their living room… with her fuzzy, super obsessive, newlywed husband. “What are ya readin love?” He said, swiftly snatching the book from her grasp as he sat down on the couch next to her. He kicked his feet up on the couch and laid so his back was against her shins under the blanket she was bundled in. “Nothing important! But you really should give it back!” She panicked, reaching for it. “Holy bloody Jesus, love. This is a casual read for you?” “... yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows while looking up to see her. She put a hand in his face and took her book back. “You almost made me lose my page.”

Soap: Being bent over and defiled by a hot Scotsman in a kilt? Oh hell yeah. How could you refuse?

“Jesus, Bonnie, why are ye readin about this shit when ya could get the real thing with me?” He chuckled, flipping through the book she had poorly hidden in her nightstand. “My kilt is in the closet, give me less than 10 minutes to get me socks and straps on and I’ll rock yer world harder than some words on a page ever could. You’ll see, donnae worry.”

He did indeed rock your world harder than pages ever good.

You claim and cry that you want to finish it for the plot, he says you can only read “that filth” when he’s away on deployment.

Says its a waste if you have a real heavy, hairy, and thick Scotsman at your disposal on the daily.

Ghost: Reading a story about a man whose face was painted like death and has charm that causes hormonal riots? Sounds exactly like her Simon. She lay on their shared bed as he packed up for their walk to the park. Her legs kicked up in the air as she read. 

He raised an eyebrow at what could have her so giddy so he effortlessly snatched the book and was met with a nasty surprise when he looked over the words. “Take it you’d rather stay home than go to the park,” he mumbled with a smirk before bending down to kneel in front of her now with a red face. 

“No- no I think a walk in the park will be fine.” She nervously chuckled.

Konig: Hot giant caveman dragging a woman away to have his way with her? Basic Konig when he comes back from missions.

Grabbing his sweet girl and pulling her into the dark cave that is their bedroom, only letting either out once he’s had his way with her and showing her just how much he’s missed her.

His face was red flushed as he read over her shoulder though.

“Oh meine gut, Schatz."

The scream she let out even made him fall back.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

He pressed a kiss to her temple in apology. 

“This book made me horny, can we fuck?” She asked straight up, knowing Konig preferred her blunt. She didn’t need to ask him twice.

Gaz Hot british guy? Her standards were so low for her choices in literature as long as it was someone she could imagine her Kyle as. Hmmm easy.

So when she was leading her walk with her audio book in her headphones she was more than busy. When he got a hold of one of her airpods while at the gym and she forgot he had the other one, he looked over at her with wide eyes. He texted her, “I didn’t realize you were interested in being folded like that.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Lady Hightower.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

Summary: the reader is approached by Criston Cole. Gwayne doesn't like the look in Cole's eyes.

A/n: this is a drabble to keep the writer's block away 😅 I'm still sick, but it's getting better slowly

Masterlist

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"Lady Hightower," Criston Cole approached the woman.

Y/n turned, her 6 month son in her arms. Her brows furrowed, "Yes?"

He stepped to her, and only then did he realize he wasn't sure why he did it. 

She noted his hesitance and a worried expression came over her face, "Is my husband alright?"

"Yes," he quickly reassured. "He is fine. Just fine."

She nodded and let out a relieved sigh, "That's wonderful. Thank you."

He nodded too, an awkward silence overtaking them. 

She shifted the baby in her arms. "I thank you," she finally said, "For your service to the crown."

Criston moved a step closer to her, "It is worth fighting for."

Her brows furrowed as she noticed his movements. "You've recently been promoted to the Hand of the King, I've overheard."

A smile came across his face, "Indeed. His grace truly blesses me."

Her patience began to turn to annoyance. "My father-by-law should be in Old Town by now. Hopefully with Daeron."

"Lord Hightower is a wise man. The crown shall miss his guidance."

Her head tilted as she studied him, "Indeed, it will." She forced herself to calm down, adjusting the baby against her shoulder once again.

As she did so, Criston took a breath, beginning to enter close proximity to her.

She looked up, his face closer to Criston's than she would've liked. "Ser Criston?"

"My lady."

"You're a loyal man, aren't you, Lord Hand?"

His eyes flickered over her face, "Yes."

She took a large step back and let out an annoyed sigh, "Quite loyal indeed." She looked around, "Where is my husband?"

Criston released a sigh of his own at his failure, "He should be coming back from the stables."

Gwayne did indeed step into the courtyard, a curious look coming to his eyes at the sight of his wife with the knight. The curiosity turned to worry when his wife immediately approached him when he came into her line of sight. 

"Dear husband!"

He reached out and took his son from her arms, wrapping an arm around her waist. He leaned down to her ear, "What did he say to you?"

"I'm glad to see you is all."

He looked past his wife to glare at Cole. "You're sure?"

She reached up and caressed his face, pushing his messy red hair from his forehead and speaking with a soft voice, "Gwayne."

He forced himself to take a breath and calm himself. The baby in his arms let out a soft whine. He looked down at his son, gently rocking him back and forth. "Did you scare the bad man away, my son?"

Y/n smiled, "Well, having him surely helps."

"Not enough," Gwayne smiles. He leans down and kisses her cheek. "Perhaps I need to give you another."

Her cheeks flushed. "Gwayne," she scolded.

A bright smile came over his face. He continued his teasing behavior, "Shall I?"

"This is improper to discuss here."

"I am not offended," he said with his infamous smirk.

She feigned offense, "Give me my son."

She reached out to take him, but Gwayne turned away from her, keeping the baby close. 

His wife giggled lightly, reaching out further, "Gwayne, give me my son."

"He is my son as well."

She playfully huffed. "Then we shall both pray to the Seven that he does not become as teasing as his father."

"Keeping a son from his mother, Lord Hightower?" 

Gwayne lifted his head up, seeing Criston Cole walking to them. He cursed under his breath, "Lord Hand."

"You didn't answer my question."

Y/n sighed, stepping next to her husband and resting a hand on the baby in his arms.

Gwayne shook his head with a clenched jaw, "I wouldn't dare, Lord Hand." A satisfied smirk came over his face, "She knows I would never break apart a family."

Criston smiled in slight offense as he tried to laugh off the man's digs. "Yes, you're a perfect man. Aren't you, Lord Hightower?"

The two stared at one another for a while as the tension grew.

"Excuse us, Lord Hand," Y/n finally interrupted, "But I'd like to welcome my husband back properly."

Criston forced a fake smile to his face, "Of course, my lady. How rude of me." He looked at the two, then the babe, his eyes studying the child longingly. He let his smile drop as he began to step away.

They watched him leave, a bold smile coming across Gwayne's face at his wive's boldness. He leans down again, "Welcome me properly?"

She grins, "Perhaps after the sun sets."

A shiver of lust ran down his spine, "Why only then?"

"We must wait until our son sleeps, Gwayne."

He wraps his free arm around her waist, placing a soft kiss on her lips, "Perhaps he can find sleep before the sun does."

She giggled lightly, "How so?"

"In the arms of his father," he stated as if obvious, "How else?"

She shook her head, "He wouldn't possibly-"

She froze, seeing that the baby in her husband's arm was already asleep, slumbering peacefully.

He looked up at her with a smirk. "Let us lay him down. I have a reunion to enjoy."

His wife grinned, dragging the man indoors.

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[simp4konig]

wait a minute. pookie. how do we think nikto would react to reader asking him to clasp her bra...

Omg!!! Never in my life did I type out ideas so FAST!!! 🏃🏼‍♀️💨

Fem! Reader Asking Nikto To Clasp Her Bra

Word Count: 1719

Implies friends to lovers with Nikto. Atrociously down bad Nikto for Reader <3. Themes not dissimilar to this fanfiction (only less intense lol 💀).

Reader is addressed as "You". No Y/N used.

*Russian Speakers, please forgive me for any linguistic inaccuracies. This is the first time I tried to write in Russian without relying on Google Translate 🥲... If there's any errors, please let me know! 🙏

❗SUGGESTIVE CONTENT BELOW THE CUT! ❗ (No sex, but allusions to it). Readers are warned for suggestive content. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

…Did you say what he thinks you've said, or was that the voices?

Did he imagine it? Was it a hallucination, maybe? Perhaps he's just a maladaptive daydreamer, and he hasn't realised…

His thoughts — or the words spoken by the voices, he's not sure — whisper in an uncharacteristically gentle tone:

Ммм... красотка. А... така красивая... рядом со мной...

They whisper to him about you. To him, for you. And to you. But those words don't leave his scarred lips, his throat hoarse and vocal cords damaged

Treasure. So beautiful. And with me, with me...

No. Not with you. He could never be with you. All he can do is content himself

“—Nikto?" You asked gently, eyebrows furrowed over your eyes, instantly dragging him from his trance. "Are you... okay? Did you hear me?"

Ah. There's that angelic little voice. How divine...

Wait. So it wasn't a hallucination? He didn't imagine you asking him to clasp your bra? Unless he heard incorrectly? Surely he heard incorrectly.

Staring at you with a blank expression under the mask, his response was less like a question, and more like a statement, if anything:

"You... want me to clasp your bra. Yes?"

"...Yes, please," you said, a sheepish, lopsided smile on your face, as you bashfully looked off to the side. "It, er... it came undone as we were cuddling. And uh... well. You know. I tried to be subtle and do it myself, but... it didn't really go that well, did it? So... put me out of my misery, please."

You were so very… casual. True, you were embarrassed, but you didn't display disgust at the prospect of being touched; rather, you were... expectant, as if it's what you wanted, and it made Nikto's heart soar at the possibility that his feelings could be reciprocated.

But he wasn't going to delude himself more than he was already.

You brought this up so offhandedly, as if this was some passing topic of conversation or an ordinary occurrence, and a normal favour to ask of someone. Someone normal. Who was be to be a fucking pervert?

When that fact registered, Nikto probably: a.) clenched his fists so tight that the remaining nails on his fingers pierce his skin and draw blood — all in a desperate attempt to see if this was indeed reality, and not a hallucination; b.), short-circuited and got into an intense unintentional staring competition with you, eyes vaguely red and unblinking for minutes, disbelieving, still and not moving as much as an inch; and/or c.), popped the hardest boner in his life that he almost lost consciousness, fainted, and fell from the bed to floor.

"I... why?"

A laugh almost escaped your throat — almost — but you swallowed it in time, realising that to laugh could have been making a mockery of Nikto.

"Ah... these clasps are so fiddly, you know? And... well..."

Awkwardly laughing, you explained: "...I couldn't reach. Not without drawing attention to myself, anyways. But it's really uncomfortable having to hold your bra while you try to be discreet when you clasp it, you know? And..."

Obviously, Nikto was not someone normal. Isn't.

This was extraordinary. A gift. Oh, what a blessing this was!

To look at you and bask in your presence is salvation in it of itself.

To be close to you, within arms' reach, his strength and size ensuring that in his wildest fantasies you'd be beneath him, with no chance of escaping, and in a position where all you can do is accept what he forces upon you.

Of course, he would never do that. The voices seduce him, urge him, order him to, but he doesn't listen. He won't touch you without permission, or without explicit consent.

Simply living has become worthwhile, as he can breathe the same air that left your precious lips. The pain, the agony, the aching, and the inexplicable grief, the, sorrow, the woe, the burden, and the mortal suffering — all meaningless and trivial if it means that you are with him.

So to touch you? And so intimately? Oh… боже…

Not only does it demonstrate that, despite the grotesque monster that he's been transformed into, the prospect of his hands on your body doesn't repulse you, but it proves how you trust him. You trust Nikto enough to touch you. To be vulnerable with him.

You consider him trustworthy enough to feel your bare back, and to trace his rough, callous, quivering fingertips over the delicate lace of your bra. You have decided that he's worthy of such a privilege.

Still, he wavered in his uncertainty. He'd rather be certain, than ruin things with you. His everything.

"...You are sure?"

Eyes crinkling in a small yet kind smile, you assured him, that: "Yes. I am sure. Please, just do it for me. I'd rather you do it."

He did not want to fuck this up. No fucking way. Ни хуя сибет.

You're friends. Good friends. As a matter of fact, you were his only friend.

But he was so fucking hard that he was almost nauseous — and that was before he has even touched you.

From his hazy recollection of his past and his continuing life which he occasionally unintentionally dissociated from, he can't ever recall being so turned on — half the time, his dick doesn't even function the way it should do.

But for you? You needn't ask; the effect which you have on him is evident. Simply through existing, you're his personal aphrodisiac.

A snort escaped Nikto’s broken, deformed nose at the sight of you shyly holding up your shirt tightly over your chest with one hand, and steadying your bra in the other — if it was up to him, he'd have hurled the offensive piece of clothing into some obscure corner of the room, and stripped you both naked, uncaring of his scars or of how his body looked, just to have you once, once.

But it was not up to him. And he wouldn't do something that rash. He wasn't about to scare you off when you were good... friends. Friends. Yes.

His fingertips touched the junction of your spine, tracing the subtle bumps of the vertebrae. His touch was so delicate, so tentative, that you could have almost mistaken it for a gust of wind.

You shivered involuntarily, goosebumps forming on your arms, and Nikto's breath hitches when you flinch slightly, your back arching a little.

“Блать… душа моя…”

He's trying to be good, trying not to cross any boundaries. You've already been so charitable, so selfless, to offer him this. If he wastes this, or ruins things between you two by making you uncomfortable to the point you won't be on speaking terms, he would rather kill himself.

Gently, with shaky, shaking fingers, he reaches for the clasp of your bra, which is lose, and attempts to clasp it for you.

His big, callous hands weren't made for handling such small, delicate things.

He's breathing heavily, his mask doing nothing to muffle the desperate puffs of air, his throat constricting and going dry. Your hair stands on the nape of your neck, and you shiver again — only, it's not from the cold.

He's gritting his teeth, pissed off by how fiddly this is, but he wouldn't ever voice this out loud — any intimacy and touch is better than none at all.

By some miracle, he does it. And he thought that was that.

To quell his temptations, he gently pulled the hem of your shirt down, fixing the material and making sure the midriff was exposed, and respectfully averted his gaze so you could fix your bra, denying himself the sight he'd cherish until he was blind and engrave the image in his brain.

That was that, he thought. It wasn't really what he thought, of course, since he silently hoped, yearned for more, but he would be thankful for any scraps of affection that he was allowed to give you.

Except...

"...You can touch me, you know," you murmured, averting your gaze as your cheeks heated up. “That… was the whole point.”

Suddenly, he couldn't speak English.

Or Russian.

Or articulate himself in any way, shape or form.

He's struck dumb. Dumbstruck. Dumbfounded. Bewildered.

Really? Really? You had wanted him to do it?

Before he had the time to process your declaration, your smaller hands took his and guided them onto your chest — not over your shirt, but under — letting him cop a feel of the skin he so desired to.

No... not letting him. Encouraging him. With a smile so impossibly sweet and effortlessly sexy at the same time that he had to bite his bottom lip until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

He needed you so bad. So, so bad.

Both large bear-like paws clutching at your chest, he held your covered breasts as if they were the most precious objects in the world.

His. Eго.

Нет... не его...

Not his. Not ever. You were only taking pity on him, aware of how deprived he's been of physical intimacy, the boner always prominent when you're close. He's pathetic.

A silence enveloped you both, but it surprisingly wasn't an awkward one; rather, a pleasant, calming, and comfortable one.

Nikto's hands wandered absentmindedly across your torso, stroking your skin, gently groping the soft parts of you.

You moaned in content, closing your eyes as he massaged your flesh as if he's never seen women's boobs or a woman's cleavage before.

He had, in another life, but never yours. So this is different. Special.

His pupils were blown black with love, eyelids hooded with adoration and complete focus. Only you. And only you. Только ты.

He wouldn't... he told himself he wouldn't... he shouldn't go further... he couldn't do this to you. To himself.

What if he ruined your friendship? If he was without you and alone again, he would really kill himself after all.

He shouldn't...

He mustn't...

Really. Really. He ought to stop now before he loses himself.

Your eyes open, and you bless him with the privilege of watching you undress, the shirt slipping over your head and revealing your body to his starved, starving gaze.

It's too much...

…

…

…

...The bra came off not long after, along with all of your and Nikto's clothes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part five) 18+

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

The reader decides to give Aemond a proper goodbye - one that befits what became of the bond they share.

themes/warnings: smut (minors dni) - a bitter breakup roll in the hay, jealous and possessive and idiotic Aemond

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Aegon's jeering from the great hall has barely subsided before you harshly pull yourself away from Aemond's hold.

"Seven fucking hells, Aemond," you exclaim, your voice ringing in the empty hallway. "Why did you do that? Why must you humiliate me in such a way?"

"You humiliate me," he spits, matching your venom, "by declaring yourself as betrothed to that snivelling bastard."

"He is no bastard," you seethe, your finger poking at his chest. "He is a gentle Lord, and a far more decent man than you will ever be. And I am certain that he will honour me when he soon becomes my Lord husband."

"No." Aemond lurches forward, cradling your face with both hands. There is pressure to his hold - he is letting his anger take over him. "No, my love," he repeats, softer, his shoulders releasing their tension.

Your resolve falters at his words. They used to be a thing you would spin in your mind, over and over, an endless song to sing. My love. "You cannot me call me that, Aemond," you murmur. "That is no longer true, if indeed it ever was."

"You doubt me so," he lowers his head, as if wounded.

But you do not have it in you to soften your approach. "You have given me every reason to doubt you, Aemond. I can no longer trust you. Not after Alys."

At the mention of her name, he is rendered alert, a wild look in his eye. "Yes. Alys."

"I do not wish to hear of her," you step away from him, but he only moves in your path.

"I have something to tell you, my love." He reaches for your hand, and you are too exhausted, too uncaring to fight back. "She has agreed to put an early end to our arrangement. Yet she will continue to aid our cause, ensuring that we win the war."

It seemed too good to be true. You are unable to believe that the witch would simply relinquish the power she has with Aemond. And you are proven correct when he adds, "But she presents one condition. I must give her a child."

The absurdity of it all makes your head spin, and suddenly your skirts weigh far too much for you to bear. Without realizing it, you lean into Aemond for support, seeking balance. He mistakes the gesture for approval - how foolish of him.

"That is ridiculous, Aemond," you croak harshly, your words coming out garbled.

"My love, what - "

"I am afraid you have lost me completely," you pull back, eyes darting around for reprieve. You cannot bring yourself to look at him, your gaze distant and hollow, fixated on nothing. With icy detachment, you murmur, "Go on, then. Wed her, if that is what you wish. Why stop at just making her the mother of your child?"

"You cannot mean that." He flinches at the suggestion.

Taking a deep breath, in finality, you declare, "We have to end whatever we have, Aemond. For both of our sakes. For the sake of your future children with Alys, and mine with Ramsay. We must part ways... and say goodbye."

His expression switches, desperation showing through the cracks in his mask of self-assuredness.

"No." He steps back, instantly rejecting your words. In his warped mind, the thought of separation is impossible. He could never leave you, and you could never leave him. That’s how it has always been, and how it always will be.

To his credit, he actually appears pained. For a moment, you see your Aemond. The only one you have ever loved. You are certain that his pain is reflected in you now.

You reach a hand out, and he tentatively accepts it.

Without a word, you lead him through the halls of the Red Keep.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"To my chambers," you reply firmly. "We both deserve a proper goodbye."

When you reach your destination, the unbearable weight of everything comes crashing down on you. This will be your true final moment with Aemond. You will never get to hold him, kiss him, feel him buried inside of you after this night.

On the morrow, he will be a stranger. He has to be.

He makes an attempt to speak, presumably to inquire upon your reasoning for taking him here. But you do not allow a word to slip past his lips, effectively silencing him with a searing kiss.

He melts unto you instantly, a soft moan escaping his throat as he welcomes your touch.

Your hands move instinctively to the fastenings of his tunic, deftly undoing them without breaking the kiss. He reaches down to come to your aid, his fingers brushing against yours, until the fabric slips from his shoulders and falls in a careless heap on the floor.

His tongue tangles with yours as his hands fumble with the ties on the back of your gown. A low growl escapes him when they don’t loosen as quickly as he'd like, his impatience growing - eager to have you, desperate to taste the sweetness he craves.

It does not much longer before the both of you are left completely bare, as naked as the day you were born. He kisses you hungrily, afraid that you might disappear if he lets go. That you might do good on your threat to leave him.

You push him backward until his heels hit the edge of your bed, causing him to land on his bottom on the sheets.

His hands grip your hips tightly as you stand between his thighs, and he gazes up at you with pure, unrestrained desire. The same way he always has, as if nothing else in the world exists but you.

In this fleeting moment, you will allow it. Nothing and no one else exists except for Aemond and yourself.

With a sharp nudge to his shoulder, he reclines willingly, lying flat on his back, arms held out, silently inviting you to press your body onto his.

You crawl slowly from the edge of the bed toward him, hovering above with lust smoldering in your eyes. He bites his lip at the sight, his erection pressing hard against your lower stomach. As you shift, the slick tip grazes your skin, leaving a heated trail in its wake.

He groans as you let his cock drag across your skin, pulling you close with a strained, "Māzigon kesīr, issa jorrāelagon."

Come here, my love.

The kiss is sloppy, he sucks at your lips while his hands roam the warmth of your body. Groping at your breasts, your hips, then the curve of your ass. He takes two fingers, travelling down your pelvis, until it feels the wetness of your clit. He fondles it eagerly, leaving you mewling softly, and the sounds turn into unbridled open-mouthed moans when his fingers dip inside your dripping cunt.

"Iksos bona sȳz?" he purrs, as he slides them faster in between your folds. Does that feel good?

"Y-yes, Aemond, fuck yes." You collapse on top of him fully, your breasts pressed against the side of his face, your body angled to grant his deft hand unhindered access as he strokes your pussy.

He turns his head to suck at your breasts, his tongue darting out to flick your nipple. His fingers quicken their pace, the squelching sounds blending with your lustful whimpers.

A silken sheen coats his digits, catching the lamplight as they slip out, only to plunge back inside with a deliberate, relentless rhythm.

"Let go, my love," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Allow me to savour the sight of your unraveling."

His words are intoxicating, and you can’t help but use his mouth to muffle your cries, your kisses fervent as you come undone. Your teeth graze his bottom lip as you reach your peak, the sensation of his warm breaths mingling with your gasps of heightened pleasure.

After a moment, as you slump against him, he licks his hand clean of your substance, his good eye darkened with wanton pleasure.

You trail a finger tantalizingly over his chest, lingering on his jaw before it gently glides across the apparatus covering his eye. He remains still, the act of baring himself to you as natural as breathing.

"Does she see you for who you truly are?" you whisper softly.

"No," he replies with a quiet intensity, "only you do, my love. For eternity."

Eternity, you bitterly think, if eternity ends on this night.

With a deliberate motion, you remove the eyepatch from his head and toss it aside. The sapphire in his eye socket gleams with a mesmerizing light, giving him an otherworldly glow.

"My Prince Aemond," you sigh, "my dragon. I am going to ride you until you forget her name."

"She does not matter to me - ahhhh, gods - " His words die in his throat as you align your still dripping cunt with his cock and sink down in one swift and merciless motion, taking him to the hilt until your ass is pressed against his flesh.

Without missing a beat, you continue to ride him with frantic intensity, your breasts bouncing as he forcefully bucks his hips to meet yours. He responds with guttural moans and fragmented words of praise - yes my love, fuck me, you fuck me so well, there is no one else, I love you, I love you, I love you.

"Does she fuck you as well as I?" you ask menacingly, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

"No." He tilts his head back in sheer bliss. "She could never. When she... uses me... I feel hollow."

As you brace yourself on his chest, your hands gripping him for support, you quicken the pace, aiming for that sweet spot within. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, drawing every ounce of pleasure from his thick cock as you both lose yourselves in the raw, all-consuming passion of the moment.

When he starts to quiver, his length sputtering inside you in those quick, successive jerks, you know this is your cue to release him from your cunt. But this time, you lean forward as you dismount, and pat his cheek in the most patronising manner, saying, "Save your precious seed for Alys. Since she needs it so terribly."

Depraved as it might be, the wickedly cunning expression on your face proves to be Aemond's undoing, that cold glare sensuous to him. With a strangled cry, he erupts, his Targaryen seed spilling across the taut planes of his pelvis in hot, white streams.

His mouth is open in pleasure and surprise as he helps himself through his release, gripping and tugging his cock firmly through the throes of his release. His gaze remains fixed your face, his sole source of pleasure, though the furrow in his brow reveals that he heard your bitter jibe.

"What a waste," you click your tongue in disappointment, eyeing the mess he made.

He still lies there, naked and covered in his own release, as you swiftly pull on your slip dress, followed by the heavy cloak hanging over the chair in the corner.

The emotions that once swirled within you - desire, sadness, yearning - harden into a bitter mix of anger and resentment. This is his doing. It is his fault that tonight will be the last. The love you once shared, the tenderness you once felt, has been shattered by his own hand.

Turning to face him, you bend your knees into a mocking curtsy, an emotionless smile tugging at your lips. "My Prince," you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "If I may be excused. I must fetch my lady-in-waiting to help me into something more fitting. After all, I have a feast to return to... and my betrothed awaits."

Just as your hand touches the door, his desperate voice cuts through the silence, "Wait!" he pleads.

You pause, tears welling in your eyes as you turn ever so slightly. Your voice trembles, barely holding together as you say one last time -

"I love you, Aemond. Goodbye."

taglist (let me know in the comments if you wish to be added): @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstorms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq @cloudroomblog @neptuneiris @zaldritzosrose @oh-theseus

Some notes in the margins...

I should point out that in this story, Alys actually has magic and she has been instrumental in bringing about the victory of the Greens. Much like how she aided Daemon in season two, but dialled up to a hundred.

But no. That does not excuse Aemond's actions. Not at all.

Our bitter lovers needed their final, fucked up release. It is final for her, at least. But for Aemond?

[natalievoncatte]

Kara’s phone skittered across the table, and she looked away from the movie. Alex was with her on the couch and they had a box of cheap rosé and were watching Mean Girls, Alex’s pick. They hadn’t had a sisters night in ages, and Kelly had Esme with her and was visiting James for the weekend; Alex had stayed behind to keep an eye on things with J’onn and Kara.

Kara’s phone was supposed to be off, but she couldn’t help herself. Alex scowled at her as she reached for it.

“Kara,” she muttered, “you deserve a night off.”

“I have it on Do Not Disturb. It’ll only go off if it’s one of my favorites calling.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Knowing you, that’s everyone you know.

“It’s actually just you and Lena,” Kara said, absently.

Alex looked at he enigmatically. There was a knowing in her eyes that made Kara feel a little hot and a little squeezed, paranoid that Alex observed something she had not.

It was a series of texts, not a call.

Kara, can you come over?

Nvm you must be with Alex

But if you do the balcony door is open

It’s not important I just need to see you

Kara bit her lip.

“What did Lena say?”

Kara glanced up. “I didn’t say it was Lena.”

Alex stared at her, and Kara squirmed a little. There as a hint of a smile but a touch of sadness in her eyes, and she let out a little sigh.

“She said it’s not important but she needs to see me.”

Alex sighed. “You should go.”

“She said it’s not important,” said Kara.

“But she said she needs to see you. You won’t be able to relax all night until you know why. You can go. I’m going to crash here, I’m not driving. Go, Kara.”

Kara nodded and stood, wondering why her palms were sweaty. She put on her suit and stepped into the air, making a brisk but calm flight to Lena’s place, making sure not to create any sonic booms.

When she lighted on the balcony it was indeed open. Kara paused and listened, locking on the steady beat of Lena’s heart and breathing. She was in her bedroom.

Passing through the dark penthouse, Kara found Lena in the bed, curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows. She was wearing an oversized hoodie with her hands tucked up in the sleeves and had a box of tissues near her head. When she looked up, Kara realized she was wearing a battered and threadbare Midvale High Mathletes Club sweatshirt that was two sizes too big for her, because it was actually Kara’s.

Kara moved to the side of the bed. “Lena? What’s wrong?”

Lena didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you at sister night.”

“You should have been at sister night.”

There as a curious look in Lena’s big, soft eyes, at once warm and heartbroken, like she’s both gained and lost in a single moment.

“I couldn’t tonight.”

Kara let her suit dissolve. She was still in her lounge clothes, a pair of baggy sweats and a button-up tank that left her arms bare. She sat down on the bed and leaned towards Lena.

“I’m okay,” Lena said.

She’d been crying, her eyes red rimmed and wet, painful tracks left by tears and her nose raw. Lena rarely let anyone see any kind of vulnerability like this.

“You don’t look okay, Miss Luthor. This looks like a job for Supergirl.”

“I don’t want Supergirl, I want Kara. Can you stay.”

Kara said, “Yes,” without hesitation, and super speed typed a text to Alex, then turned off her phone.

After a brief hesitation, Kara climbed onto Lena’s huge California King bed. There as plenty of room in the middle for them both. Lena lifted the covers and Kara settled in with her.

Carefully, she pushed the hood back, and tucked away a few stray dark curls from Lena’s eyes as she shimmied closer, curling her arm around Lena’s shoulder. Their bodies instinctively fitted together as they had many times before, Lena carefully cradled in Kara’s powerful arms. Kara could feel her quick breaths and the flutter of her heart beneath her ribs. In her embrace, Lena felt delicate and exotic, a treasure to be handled with utmost care.

“Want to talk about it?” said Kara.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Yes.”

Kara wasn’t sure how long she laid there or how long Lena clung to her; she didn’t really care. Finally Lena spoke.

“This is the day my mom died.”

Kara let out of a soft “Oh,” and held her just a little tighter, carefully exacting just a touch more pressure until Lena calmed again.

“It’s normally this bad but some years it’s just too much, it’s… it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes I still have The Dream.”

Kara tensed, not because Lena didn’t explain, but because Kara knew without being told. Kara had The Dream, too. The only dream that was a Dream, the only nightmare that you can’t wake up from because the waking is the nightmare.

Lena shook her head, and her voice broke something in Kara, shattering it into a thousand pieces that scattered on the crystal floor of the hidden places within her.

“I can’t even remember what she looked like.”

Kara ran her hand softly over Lena’s head and felt fresh tears hot on her neck.

“Lillian took everything from me. Pictures, home movies, all of it. Sometimes I can remember her singing but it’s like I can feel it more than hear it.”

“I remember,” Kara said softly, “when I started thinking in English. I had to. It was the only way I could write without messing up the grammar.”

“Do you remember Krypton?”

“Mostly. It’s hazy. Things from before my powers are like that.”

“Can you… can you tell me about it?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just… I’m trying not to think about how much I want my mom.”

Kara nodded and began telling Lena whatever popped into her head, without rhyme or reason or really meaning to go anywhere with it. She told her about Argo City and excursions to gather mineral samples, about the opera and museums and festivals, about the food and music. She told Lena what it was like to visit other worlds, to stand on the shores of lakes of molten nickel and watch a supernova unfolding.

She barely noticed when Lena fell into a light sleep, curled up in her arms. She clung to Kara, hands fisted into her back at first, then relaxing as she dozed.

Eventually, light peeked around Lena’s blackout curtains. Lena had slept through the night. Kara should probably have withdrawn or gone to make breakfast, but she stayed, enjoying Lena’s scent in Lena’s huge bed, feeling her breathing against her and just feeling this curious relief that she at least knew she was safe, truly safe.

“You’re here,” Lena murmured as she woke up.

“Of course I’m here”, said Kara.

“I like having you here,” Lena mumbled.

“I like having me here.”

Lena sighed. “Are you real? Am I dreaming this too?”

Kara snorted. “Do you dream about me a lot?”

There was a too-long pause before Lena said, “yes.”

“What kind of dreams? Am I badass in them?”

“Something like that.”

Kara smiled. “Want me to grab us breakfast?”

“No.”

Kara’s stomach rumbled, but Lena ignored it. She still had her arms around Kara’s waist and squeezed hard, pulling her close. There was desperation in it. Kara sucked in a sharp breath, even as she returned the embrace.

“Hey,” Kara said softly, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”

“Okay.”

Kara swallowed, hard. Lena looked up at her and Kara’s heart did a flip. She was so soft here in the morning light, vulnerable in a way that no one else ever saw. Every fiber of her being screamed at Kara to make it better, protect her, kiss her.

Wait, what?

Kara blinked. Lena was staring at her lips, pupils wide and eyes dark.

There had been a moment like this before. When Kara came back from that awful place, ripped free from its darkness, when it felt like Lena was the whole universe and Kara had been locked in by her gravity, pulled toward a singularity, yanked away from it by her fathers voice as she leaned in…

“I want you to stay,” Lena said, each word a tiny whisper puffed against Kara’s lips.

Kara kissed her.

It wasn’t a Big Damn Kiss. It wasn’t one where the camera spun and the music swelled. It was barely there at all, a faint brushing of lips, an invitation left to wait, breathless, for an answer.

When Lena kissed her back it was slow and passionate but reserved, lips pressed on lips, followed by a tiny tug on Kara’s bottom lip, the signature that competed the message.

Kara moved delicately, leaving a pause with each moment, but Lena offered only invitation.

“Is this okay?” Kara asked.

Lena grasped fistfuls of Kara’s shirt, squeezing so hard that her knuckles went white and her hands trembled.

“Please,” she whispered. “Stay.”

“I’ll never leave,” Kara whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion's s/o giving him a massage that has him making suggestive noises?

-------------------------------🩸-------------------------------

Gale hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep reading until he opened his eyes. It had been a long day of running around the city. Looking for clues on the Bhaal cult. Gathering more information on the Brain and allies to stop it. Saving orphans & kittens out of trees.

He wasn’t sure what woke him, until he heard quite, hushed voices at his back.

“You have to relax, Astarion.”

“I’m trying.” The vampire replied. His voice sounded different. No longer the charming lark, but a little strained and husky. “You’re going too deep, too fast.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of you.” Tav seemed to remind him. Then there was a gurgled groan from Astarion. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

Gale’s face was as red as an apple at this point. Were they really doing that just a few feet from his bed?? Where was everyone else?? Down in the tavern he hoped. Who has sex just mere foot steps away from another person??

“Your fingers are magic.” Astarion groaned.

“Well, they carry literal magic.” Tav chuckled. Mystra’s eye….

“Oh! Oh Gods right there!”

“Don’t tense up on me.” Tav hissed at Astarion. The bed creaking under them.

“I’m trying, it’s just that…mpmh!”

“Alright that’s quite enough! If you two can’t keep it—” Gale’s indignation had reached it’s peak, and he whirled around to confront the lovers about what they were doing ‘in front of him’, only to find Tav fully clothed and sitting across Astarion’s waist. Clearly not doing what he thought they were doing, and his face grew hot again.

“Oh. Gale. I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”

“Sorry old chum. Tav darling was just working out this kink in my back from sleeping on all those rocks. One never realizes how much tension that binds up until they’re in a proper bed again.”

Gale coughed and swung his legs over the side of his own bed. “Yes…well…I appreciate the apology. I think I’m going to head downstairs to the tavern for a night cap.” Then the wizard all but raced to the door to make it downstairs.

“Poor Gale…”

“Poor Gale indeed.” Astarion agreed. “Imagine what he would have done if he could see what your Mage Hands were doing under this blanket.” Tav pursed their lips and pinched at Astarion’s ear lobe. The spell in question fading, perhaps out of spite.

The vampire just grinned over his shoulder. Somehow grabbing Tav and flipping them onto the bed. The blanket over his waist now asunder as he was completely nude with non-nude counterpart. “Alone at last, my love.” He cooed before kissing them.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

The Office Pet

warnings: MDNI, rough sex, bdsm, treating reader like an animal, name calling, degradation, public humiliation, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, whipping, oral (fem receiving)

"Yes, go ahead and change the meeting to next week," Kento says smoothly, tapping his fingers against the polished wooden surface of his desk. "How fortunate that it worked out for both of us."

"Indeed," says the voice on the line. "I hope we-" The voice pauses as a loud whine is made audible on the call. "Is everything all right?"

"Indeed. No worries, it's just the office pet. She gets whiny when she's not receiving any attention." The blond salaryman says smoothly. "I look forward to our meeting next week." With that, he disconnects the line and turns his attention to you.

"Being a little disobedient today are we?"

You try to keep your desperate sobs to a minimum but it wasn't easy. The sybian Kento had ordered specially for you was vibrating against your clit, the dildo thrusting relentlessly inside you. Ropes bound you to the seat, as you blinked back the tears in your eyes. 

"I believe all I asked was for you to not orgasm until I was done with the call." Kento walks over to you, grinning at the tears in your eyes. A finger slips under the cute collar around your throat and he yanks you forward with sadistic gentleness.

"Mmm....I haven't...holding it...Being...good..." you whimper, trying to hold in your orgasm desperately, feeling your pussy clench around the dildo.

"Aw...have you? I suppose for a cumslut like you...that's impressive." He releases the collar.

"Master...can I please-"

"No." The word is said commandingly and you sob with need. "Please." You try again. "I'm gonna cum...please...need permission-"

"No." Kento reaches out and painfully twists one of your nipples, causing you to cry out from the pain. "You will listen and hold it. What's the point of having a pet if they're not obedient to you?"

As you whimper, muscles quivering from the effort of holding in your orgasm, he grins at you, amusement in his eyes. “I think you need a lesson in remembering what it means to listen and please your master. Perhaps I should show your bad behavior to the office? You should see the other pets…they’re quiet and obey.”

“I can obey…” you say in a progressively shrill voice as the machine continues to torture your pussy, pushing you to a limit that you feel your brain getting fuzzy, a haze of sexual need falling over you. 

“It appears you can’t.” He switches off the machine and you feel the loss on your abused, swollen pussy. He starts to remove the ropes binding you to the seat of the chair and lifts you off easily, dildo sliding from your wet cunt, and sets you down on the floor. 

“On your hands and knees. Perhaps a walk will set you straight.”

Trying not to show any signs of disobedience, you get on all fours. Nanami removes a leash from his desk drawer, which he dangles in front of your face before whipping your ass with one end of it, making you squeal and recoil from him. 

He clicks his tongue as he grabs your hair, keeping you in place. “Stay.” The command is said so seductively in your ear that despite everything, you freeze. “Stay,” he repeats, before whipping you a few more times, his lip curling cruelly at each squeal of pain, your ass turning red with each whip. Once he’s done, he clips the hook of the leash onto your collar, tugging at it.

“Walk,” he says authoritatively, as he opens the door. You crawl on your hands and knees, head bowed, feeling shame that you had disobeyed him like this. He walks you in between the cubicles, the occupants staring at your round ass, jiggling with your movements, your cunt puffy and chafing against your thighs, fluid seeping in between and dripping, leaving little droplets on the floor. Your tits sway as you continue to make your way down the hall. Only company partners were allowed to have pets, so this display to the other employees was a matter of rank and pride.

He walks you to the large office on the other side of the cubicles before knocking on the door and entering.

“Nanamin!” Gojo turns in his chair delightedly. “Have you brought your pet over for a playdate?”

“No playdate today. She’s being taught a lesson.”

“Ooh, been a bad girl huh?” Gojo smirks at you, and you feel yourself get more turned on by the words. 

“Hmm. Being noisy during work calls.”

“Tsk. Too bad. My pet stopped that about two weeks ago. Look at her.” He gestures over to the side of his office where his pet, a lovely woman with russet-colored hair was resting on a few pillows, hips humping against a vibrator. Only quiet hums were heard as she did this, not minding that they had company.

“See? Keeps herself quiet. Cums as much as she wants. Gotta check on her though, because sometimes she needs lube and hurts herself. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” The woman looks up, adoration in her eyes at Gojo and nods, not stopping her humping. 

“Just gotta keep upping her lube. Once she’s done cumming to her satisfaction she sleeps.” 

“Hear that?” Kento asks you, and you dare to look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Oh don’t give me those eyes sweetheart.” He pets your hair. “I think you’ve learned your lesson after seeing how a good pet should be.” He strokes you down the back of your neck, up the curve of your ass. 

“Although, I must admit Nanamin, I’m surprised with your method. A sybian on such a new pet. I would’ve started with something less intense.”

“My methods are harsher but yield faster results,” Nanami says smoothly. “But perhaps I’ll look into something softer for her. I’m quite fond of her. Thinking about keeping her permanently.” He pats your ass with affection. Gojo whistles at that.

“Really? Getting kinda attached there eh?”

“I think I am. She’s sweet. And her pussy-” he suddenly stuffs two of his fingers into your sore cunt making you gasp loudly, “-has the nicest scent.” He pulls out his fingers, covered with your moisture, and offers it to Gojo for inspection. 

Gojo sniffs and his eyes widen. “That’s some sweet pussy you got there. Very nice. But I like my girl just fine. Cmere baby,” he calls to his pet, who stops her humping and comes over to him on hands and knees. 

“Can I get some attention, my sweet girl?” he croons and the woman puts her head on his lap. Taking that as a cue, Kento leaves Gojo’s office and begins your walk of shame back to his office. People stare at you enviously. 

“They’re jealous because you’re mine.” He says in a low tone only you can hear. “Only I get your sweet cunt and get to make you cum. They’ll get promoted someday, maybe get their own pet. But I have the sweetest little whore all to myself. Remember that.”

Once back in his office, he removes your leash, and the collar, to your surprise. He gently pets the nape of your neck, before picking you up and placing you onto the plushy futon on the floor he had gotten for you in a cute shade of pink, complete with matching pillows. 

“I guess maybe Gojo was right. I could be a little softer on you.” He caresses your face, petting behind your ears and then under your chin. Your eyes close and you purr at the touch, making him chuckle. 

“I do like you. Want to keep you forever. Did you just need some attention back then?” 

You nod eagerly, making him look at you amusedly. “Where did you want my attention? Show me.”

You make an arch with your body, ass up in the air, head lowering to the ground, spreading your legs so that he can see your whole cunt. 

“You greedy girl. Ok, just this time. I’m not rewarding you. You still disobeyed me by whimpering during that phone call. Think of this as testing your abilities. I’m going to make you cum and I expect you to stay quiet as it happens. I will ask the employees sitting outside if they heard you. If even one of them says yes…well…you can imagine how displeased I’ll be.” 

You quickly bite into the corner of the pillow as he licks your leaking hole generously, pushing his tongue into it. “Mhm… You taste so sweet…Might keep you just for this pussy…” His tongue laves upwards, finding your clit, slurping and pulling on it until you saw stars in your vision. All your noises were muffled by the pillow and you try not to grind against him, unsure how he would react, and just whimpered quietly, barely audible. 

Rough hands spread apart your ass cheeks to give more access to your dripping core, lapping up every drop of arousal you produce. After the rough session on the sybian you know you won't last long, and your hips thrust against your will, causing him to pause. 

“Are you close?” 

In a trembling voice, you ask pathetically, “Yes… Can I please cum master… I'll be good…” 

Your labia are so swollen and turning purple from the unreleased tension. Kento gently flicks them, making you twitch before saying, “Yes… Cum…But quietly.”

He focuses his attention on the hard nub and inserts two fingers to find your g-spot, feeling the gummy walls clench around him, practically sucking him in. 

You bury your head onto the cushions, not daring to breathe, smelling your arousal everywhere before orgasm grips you. You bite into the cushion, minimal, strangled whimpers of ecstasy escaping your throat as your cunt explodes with orgasmic pleasure, making you shudder. Kento quickly licks off his fingers before pulling down his pants and boxers, cock hard and throbbing. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, before pushing into your wet folds. There's no resistance, you'd been so ready for such a long time now, pussy sucking him in and you keep your head buried in the cushions as he fucks you. He groans, teeth gritted. “Such a good little pet…Taking me so quietly… So obediently… are you feeling good?”

With all the concentration you could muster, you say in barely a whisper, “Fills me so good… Meant for my pussy… Fuck me as you please…” 

“I'm going to breed you my little pet… the next time you go on a walk my cum will be leaking from that pretty cunt of yours… And everyone will know what a good little cum dumpster you've been for me… Will know you're full of my seed…”

The thought was an overwhelming turn on and you feel like yourself dangerously close to the edge. “Master…” You whisper. “I’m close…Can I?”

“Not until I'm done. Don't get greedy. You already came once. Wait your turn.” 

You try to distract your mind from the impending orgasm, feeling your belly tighten almost painfully from holding it in. His hips stutter and his movements start to get sloppy as he fucks into you, balls slamming against your ass as you try to control your breath and impulses. His cockhead hits your g spot then brushes your cervix each time, and you can feel your mind starting to lose grip on reality. 

All that mattered was his cock… And him allowing you to cum. 

He growls as he orgasms, his hot seed coating your walls, cock pulsating inside you. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” he asks as he continues to thrust in you. “I thought you said you wanted to cum.”

With the hardest effort you’ve ever had to exert in your life, you cum a second time, a barely perceptible sobbing gasp escaping your throat, tears coating your face as you control the need to shout, your overstimulated cunt spasming so intensely, you thought you’d collapse. 

“Good girl…so good…barely made any sound.” He pulls out, his seed dripping from your abused hole. His thick fingers squeeze the edges of your lips, making it drip more, before pushing it back in with a finger making you squirm. 

“Let’s take another walk. I want everyone to know what a good pet smells like after she’s been rewarded.”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters When You Give Them Flowers

Sorry for the absence, been crazy times 😅 Just something cute I couldn’t get out of my head, enjoy~ Also, correcting my Faramir drought let’s frickin go 🤙🏻

Aragorn

The last town you’d stopped in, there’d been a girl. A little thing, hardly more than seven or eight years old, and there she stood with a basket in hand. She was selling flowers, long and dainty stems with white blooms, no doubt to help her family sitting off in the distance.

The moment he laid eyes upon her, Aragorn had bent over, pressing the loaf he had just bought into her hand and whispering some words of hope you wished you could hear. Heart leaping, you watched him move along before approaching the girl yourself.

~

When night had fallen and a fire began crackling, you took the flowers from behind your back and held them out to the ranger you so dearly loved. The smile that instantly graced him was truly a worthwhile blessing.

“I know where you found these,” he remarked, turning them gently over in his hand as his smile softened.

You mirrored the expression. “I thought they could use a bowl of soup to split the loaf with. And you deserve a gift, even to the smallest gifts of the earth.”

Wordlessly, Aragorn took your hand with the one not holding the flowers, clutching it tight as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Legolas

“Do you elves know anything of the language of flowers?”

Legolas’s brows furrowed a bit at that, and you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of his expression, his next choice of words. “Words of the trees, yes, but flowers? Perhaps an old tale.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, still smiling, “my people have quite the elaborate custom around flowers. Different blooms in different colors make quite unique statements. Take roses for instance- they come in a whole slew of colors.”

“I see,” he nodded, “so a yellow rose would speak volumes apart from a red one, then?”

Your heart leapt at Legolas’s choices, his unwitting contrast between the blossoms of friendship and passionate, deep love. “Indeed. There are even flowers that say ‘your letter was received’! But if this is unfamiliar to the elves, any flowers would be quite the surprise, would they not?”

“We have always had appreciation for the earth’s beauty.”

You took that as as close of a yes as you’d get, shaking your head as you shifted in the hard base of your seat, turning back to grab the vase of flowers you’d made for your friend, the one who made your heart beat like no other. White lilies could symbolize mourning, but also that one’s love was pure. Perfect, perhaps, if unrequited. Pink irises for hope, though. Hundred-leaved roses in pink for a love truly sincere. Bursts of snow and sunset pink dotted with faint yellow, all curated by your hand to shine with words you hadn’t the heart to speak aloud.

“As do I. These I arranged for you, in fact!” Hands curling around the vase, you held your gift aloft.

Legolas’s dark eyes lit up, mischief crossing his handsome face. “Now that I’ll be guessing the meaning?”

You flushed, rising from your seat as his hands covered yours, accepting your offering. “Well, I was just curious if you’ve heard of-”

“Oh, it is far too late for that! I’m certain Lord Elrond has books on the subject. By tomorrow I’ll be an expert, and who knows? Perhaps you’ll find some flowers of your own.”

You couldn’t help shakily smiling as Legolas’s eyes peered into yours glittering so, his hands still resting warmly over yours.

Boromir

“Boromir! Look!”

The man in question turned his head at the sound of your voice, watching as you bounded his way with hands full of flowers. Their bright color perfectly brought out the tone of your twinkling eyes, eyes that glittered unlike anything Boromir had ever witnessed before.

“Lovely, truly,” he inclined his head toward them as you reached him, “the finest. Where did you come by these?”

“Off at the far end of the meadow!”

Boromir chuckled deeply. “The firewood may have been forgotten, then?”

Pouting suited you, didn’t it? Adorable indeed. “Well, I just saw these and-”

“Worry not,” he slid an arm about your waist, “firewood is no emergency. You deserve this small joy- we all do.”

Glancing down a bit, you extended your hand, raising your treasure such that it practically brushed you both as it connected you. “Well, they are for you.” Were you flushing?

“For me? Well, what a gift! I suppose they do suit me more than you. After all…” Smiling, Boromir tightened his grip around you just a bit. “The most beautiful blossom in leagues is right here. If you keep this little bouquet they will envy you forever.”

Gimli

You stand beneath the awning’s shade, swaying slightly as you tend to the baskets placed along your cart. Your favorite is one filled with mountain poppies collected near the base of the snows, cheery and delicate and brisk as it had felt to be there trimming them. Truly you love your life, though it gets lonely having only plants to speak to. Sometimes you find yourself drifting into fantasy, imagining someone to protect you. You like to think you’re no damsel in distress, but the truth of the matter is you’ve never been a fighter and the village ravagers have been drawing closer.

~

A woman purchases a simple vase of sunflowers, nodding gratefully as you pass them to her. Behind her, though, emerges a shorter figure- a dwarf, by the looks of his armor and beard. You smile. That trip to the mountains introduced you to a host of very friendly dwarrowdams who bid you stay in their boardinghouse, boisterous though it may have been.

“Good afternoon,” you greet him from aside an arrangement of daisies.

“Good afternoon indeed! Tell me, though, why one as fair as yourself is hiding behind a lot of old daisies, eh?”

Flushing, you shrug and step around the side of the cart, removing all obstructions. “I suppose I’m just a bit used to it is all. Were you looking for anything in particular?”

The dwarf shakes his head. “Nay, I was just struck by the sight of the one smile this town seems to have.”

It is a fair point. Rohan has been downcast of late, hope in short supply with all the attacks. Your lot was seen as mere peasants in the way of it all.

“Times have been hard. The orc packs have been running rampant for a long time. I- I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

Smirking victoriously, the dwarf leans on his axe. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the pack of stragglers that just got slaughtered, would you?”

You lit up. “You’ve seen them?”

“With my own eyes. They certainly won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Pick anything you’d like here, please, it isn’t much, but it is the least I could do to repay your gift,” you insisted, waving a hand over your display.

He scanned your cart before a look of comical shock burst across his face at the poppies. Noting it, you lifted the basket gingerly into his hands.

“Those are my favorites, too! And they are yours.”

“Only if you keep one to remember me by. Gimli, son of Glóin,” he introduces himself sweepingly, outstretched hand deftly producing a poppy to hold out your way.

Frodo

“What is this one?” Frodo inquired, holding up a small leather tome.

“Oh,” you tilted your head, “that one is a bit different. Here, let me show you.”

Shifting to sit at his side, you took the book from his outstretched palms and opened it, revealing pages blank save for the flowers you’d pressed in them, splashes of yellow, red, purple, green.

“I try to add one from everywhere I’ve been,” you added, turning the pages, “I even have a page from the Shire.”

The spread of the next pages revealed stems of lavender you’d plucked from gardens, Shire daisies, even some pansies you’d plucked from Bag End itself, and plenty more, too. Frodo’s bright eyes widened at the sight of it, a smile growing upon his lips.

“This is a treasure to see- a reminder of home, and one I can touch, too,” he sighed, brushing his fingers softly over the crisp petals, “I remember the feel of them again.”

His relief was practically palpable in the air as his eyelids fluttered shut in content, smile growing. Heart swelling, you pushed it closer to him.

“It’s yours.”

“I can’t-” He protested.

Handing the leather-bound book over to him, you nodded. “Yes, you can. Your happiness, your relief, is a much greater gift than these to me. The earth will renew it over again on my travels,” you told him with a smile.

One of Frodo’s hands left the petals long enough to linger atop yours. “I will never be parted from it.”

Sam

“Sam! Oh, Sam, wait up!”

Turning his golden head your way, Sam smiles the moment he sees you, sending your heart leaping from your chest as he speaks your name softly in reply.

“What is it?”

“Well, nothing, really,” you reply shyly, hands behind your back, “I just saw these and thought of you.”

Alight is the only word you could have used to describe Sam’s face as your hands leave your back and bring forth the bunch of little bluish-white blossoms you had just discovered a little off the road.

“Absolute beauts, those are,” he breathes with a grin, “harebell, they’re called. They like to grow in rocks for some reason, the little buggers.”

His knowledge sweeps you off your feet, but you can’t help asking. “Do you like them?”

“Of course I do! These are some really pretty ones, very bright indeed!”

Holding them out, you giggle nervously. “Well, good, because they’re for you! I picked these to give you, Sam.”

Jaw dropping and green eyes widening, Sam reaches forward and gently takes the miniature bouquet from your hands. “You mean it?” He asks with another bright grin.

“I really do,” you smile and nod.

For the rest of the day those harebells don’t leave Sam’s hand, and any time he has a moment’s idleness he’s looking at them, fingers gently caressing the blossoms as he glances your way with a smile.

Merry

Normally Merry dipped you. But you changed that that night. Normally he was the one to sweep you off your feet, charm you, but it was you who stole his breath away that night. The way you took his hand and pulled him closer into the dance, twirled him and brought him inches from your face, only had him wanting more.

What really got him, though? The rose you’d handed him at the end of it all. Such a simple gesture and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off the thing. Or you.

Surely you noticed. The two of you were quite comfortable, else you wouldn’t be dancing so, but no one had gone beyond any teasing. It was all in good fun, unspoken attraction that suddenly grew, enveloping and consuming Merry’d beating heart as he looked at you with new passion. He needed someone who made his heart race so by his side. Someone like you could keep him up being the best hobbit he could be.

And that was why he marched right up to you later in the evening, taking one more massive swig of ale before he approached, rose twirling between his fingertips all the while.

“I hope you meant this,” he nodded down to the bright red bloom, “as much as I mean this.”

Your lips parted, the beginnings of a question fell from them, but not much escaped before your lips were pulled into Merry’s, your hands falling against his chest.

Pippin

Never had you felt so light as when you were around one mister Peregrin Took. All your time with him, it seemed, was spent in joy, laughter, comfort. One look from him was all it took for a smile to creep onto your face. One song from him and it was all you could do not to kiss him right then and there.

For your part, though, you weren’t sure how he felt, thus you acted accordingly, enjoying the time you had with him as much as possible without pushing your feelings. Well, not too much- he was quite fun to tease, after all!

A flower had caught your eye as you strolled, some little cousin to a daisy bursting from brush in a merry little yellow spark you couldn’t help taking for yourself.

Well, mostly. “For you,” you said in a playful lilt, holding it out his way.

The manner in which his smile and shoulders rose had you shyly grinning. “For me?” He repeated, ecstatic as he was incredulous.

The moment you nodded the flowers was all but snatched from your hand. “Where do you think it would look better, here?” First he tucked it into his mess of curls. “Or here?” Tucking it next into the buttonhole of his coat, he grinned at you.

Giggling, you told him he didn’t have to wear it.

“Oh, I want to. I want the whole of Middle Earth to know you’ve given me this gift.” Comical as his words were, the shine in his eyes told you Pippin was sincere.

Faramir

The steward of Gondor had gone up before the people to address them on some perceived victory. To his side he had pulled up his son, the elder one, and named him spearhead of it all. Boromir was a great man, certainly, but so in no shorter words was his brother Faramir, the dearer sibling to your heart.

The moment you met Faramir in the crowd of people, mostly men celebrating in their keep outfit, dented as it was, you rested a hand upon his shoulder. “Let nobody so insignificant taint your victory, Faramir. Were it not for you, half the city would not even be standing.”

“We could have kept it as it was if we-”

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a bit further on him, “none of that. You are a man, not a miracle worker. And so is your brother and everyone else in your family. You have fortitude of mind, strength of heart.”

“Yet less the swing of a sword,” Faramir chuckled.

“The swing of a sword alone a kingdom does not make,” you teasingly chastised, waving a finger, “besides, you have something none of them will ever have.”

“And what is that?” He asks, gently lifting your hand off his shoulder and up to his lips.

“My heart,” you reply, pulling one of the flowers woven into your hair out to press it into his other palm.

Faramir pulls those petals to his lips, too, twirling the stem thoughtfully with a hum. “Then I am, indeed, blessed.”

Eomer

Every time it felt like your heart would shatter. He left again and again but it never got easier wondering if the man you’d grown to love would be torn from you in a brutal battle, one lax moment ending it all.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he looked into them with a smile far too easygoing to you. Too assured.

“Do not look so defeated,” Eomer told you, reaching down with a hand to caress your face in a way that sent your heart leaping, “it’s a small raiding party, that is all.”

“I know, I just-” Your breath hitched, words caught in your throat. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

At that, he smiled, releasing his hand again. “You should worry more for the orcs.”

“Still, though, here,” shaking your head, you produced the bundle of flowers you’d tied together for him, face warming, “take these. For luck.”

Eomer’s smile widened even as his horse grew a bit restless; giving its mane a quick pat, he reached down to accept your proffered gift. Sweeping some golden hair off his shoulder, he tucked your blossoms into his saddle.

“Now I know I’ll make it,” he replied, and with a wink he rode off.

Needless to say, he has gifts of his own planned when he returns: a confession, once and for all, and a kiss.

Haldir

"Come now, keep up!"

"Whatever for?"

Laughing, you turn to face Haldir once more and see him ascending the spiraling steps behind you with a look of exasperation. Perhaps, too, amusement. Long, fair hair whips about his face in the breeze as a smile teases onto his lips.

“Is it so bad to spend a little time together?” You shot back merrily, feet still eagerly tapping upon every plank that raised you higher amidst the boughs.

“I only ask because I know of your schemes,” Haldir teases in response.

“If you must know,” you stopped, hands on your hips before you waved one about a spray of vines snaking over the tree’s bark, powder-blue blossoms extending from them, “my scheme was to see if you'd noticed these in your travels."

"I had not," he murmured in response, stepping to your side to caress a pale petal gently, warmth filling you at his proximity.

With a small smile, you took up the age-old habit you'd developed in childhood so many years past, deftly plucking and weaving stems together as Haldir watched with amused interest. Unsure as you were how much time passed, he stood stock-still even as you finished your work, placing the crown of flowers atop his head.

"Here you are, My King," you jested with a smile, taking two steps forward.

Grey eyes staring into yours, Haldir took your hand, shaking his head softly and taking a blossom of his own. "Wait here. No king should rule alone, after all."

Eowyn

Riding brought such joy and exhilaration as one could hardly know elsewhere, especially with a fair and fearless maid like Lady Eowyn at your side. The smile you so longed to see bloomed across her face as you both urged your horses on, picking up speed into a run across the green of the plains. The thudding of hooves invigorated you as the pair of you pressed on, riding like the wind until whim took you to dismount and stop for a breather.

As you sat upon the grass, a dotting of pink flowers amidst the waving green caught your eye; joy seizing you, you picked one after the other until you had a tiny handful. Eowyn’s eyes, you saw, drifted over your work, but she said nothing.

Nothing, that was, until you broke the silence. “These remind me of you, you know. We often think of flowers here as signs of mourning, but these? These are hope. Bits of brightness out of nothing.”

She smiled faintly, shyly, blue eyes shining. “Sometimes it does not feel so.”

“Well, to me it is so,” you replied, extending your little bouquet her way.

The glitter of her eyes somehow brightened as she looked upon your gift, smile opening all the way. You were overcome at the sight of it, the return of warmth to the fairest of faces, and before you realized it you had leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

Arwen

“But surely you have already received so many mighty gifts!”

“None were from you,” Arwen replied simply, breathily, waving a hand, “come, show me.”

Her smile, breathtaking even in the simplest of moments, encouraged you to pull your hands from behind your back, revealing the bouquet you’d recently tied. With the best ribbon you’d found on hand, of course, beautiful white silk lined with thin silver.

“You see, I wanted to honor you with gifts pure as your heart- gifts from the earth. These are-”

“From the garden where we met!” Arwen was one to remain composed, often feeling the pressure of her years and upbringing and, surely, wisdom. “Of course I remember! You tripped and I caught you!”

Unable to help flushing beneath her grin and the rush of memory, the heat across your face as you pitched over a stone and were captured by the hand of the most graceful maiden you’d ever seen, you simply smiled. “That would be the time. Ever since that day I cannot walk past white roses without thinking of you. And that seems fitting,” you added.

Arwen pursed her lips, eyebrows raising curiously. “Oh?”

“Pure,” you repeated, “fair and beloved as all. Delicate, but formidable. More than capable of defending themselves.”

“Are you saying I have thorns?” She teased, leaning an arm upon your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” you shot back, “perhaps I am.”

“Well, at any rate, I love this gift far beyond all displays of wealth. This is a gift of your heart, is it not?”

The moment you nodded, her arms were thrown about your neck, pulling you into the warmth of her chest and letting your heart beat against hers.

[zorosq]

whipped ; roronoa zoro

↻ fluff, zoro is head over heels for you, luffy being clueless about love, a little bit suggestive towards the end :0

↻ pairing ↬ zoro (opla) x f!reader!

anonymous requested: Hey! Can since your accepting opla zoro or sanji requests, can I request opla zoro dating the (fem) reader, and it takes place during the time the strawhats visit Kaya’s mansion? After zoro picked out his clothes, zoro wants to see what his gf wants to wear, but she pushes him out and wants to to be a surprise cause she wants to see the look of awe on his face when he she’s her cause I’ll make her very happy. Zoro begrudgingly agrees and when she comes down the stairs, he’s indeed in awe cause his baby looks so pretty!! Idk, I thought it’d be cute. Maybe you could have it end in smut if your comfortable (checked you rules and didn’t see if you were okay with it or not, so if you are, can you end it as such? But if not, that’s okay too!!)

a/n sorry but i cant write that last part of your request bcs im still a minor!

you were in awe with how big the mansion is. surely one couldn't have got a mansion this big unless they probably sold their soul.

"hey, stay close to me. you'll get lost," zoro muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. you chuckled lightly in amusement. "but aren't you the one who always gets lost?" you teased him. "i don't get lost. you're the one who leave me out of nowhere and get lost," zoro rolled his eyes, determined to win this light banter.

you only chuckled again and intertwine your hand with his. "well, let's just go and get our clothes change. we wouldn't want to be rude to miss kaya when she's already been kind enough to us," you squeezed his hand.

.

"which one is better? this or this?" you asked the orange haired girl. "hm... well i think red really suits you," nami smirked. "i can just imagine what the other's are going to react when you greet them downstairs," she chuckled.

your short conversation was cut off by the harsh knocks at the door. "babe, you still in there?" zoro asked. you quickly came out of the room and closed the door behind you. "yes? you need something?" you smiled.

"you still haven't change? what's taking you so long?" zoro huffed and crossed his arms together. "well, i'm still choosing for the right dress," you chuckled at him. "whatever, i'll just help you choose," the male sighed, trying to walk pass you but you quickly held him back. "no! you can't come in!"

he raised an eyebrow in confusion. "why?"

"because it's a surprise!" you pouted. "i rarely ever get to dress up! i want to give you something good once in a while," zoro only grunts and left.

after a while, you finally decided which dress you were going to wear. you stood in front of the mirror, making a small twirl. "he's going to love this," you smiled softly.

.

you stood on the stairs, staring down at zoro who's got his eyes on you. despite the stoic look, you could tell that he was in awe from the look in his eyes. you walked down the stairs, feeling every burning stares he's giving you.

when you finally reached him, he gave you a smirk and took your hand in his before giving it a light kiss. "you look..." he trailed off, his eyes flicking up and down your body.

"ravishing," he whispered in your ears. you could feel him squeezing your hand lightly. "i would like to see you without it tonight," he kissed your earlobe.

[mommageto]

Domestic Hashira Part 4 (Himejima x Reader)

Title: Domestic Hashira Part 4 (Himejima x Reader)

Word Count: 2441 words

Description: (Y/n) and Gyomei navigating the unfamiliar territory of an arranged marriage. 

Warning/s: This story contains sexual content that may not be suitable for readers. Read at your own risk.

Part 3

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Days with Himejima felt better after you both had a conversation about your true feelings with one another. The weight on your chest felt lighter, and the days have gone sweeter since then. Himejima's gentle nature and unwavering support have created a haven for your love to flourish. You felt as if every day with him was a precious gift, a reminder of the beauty that can only be found in sincere human connection.

The stone hashira was invited to a festival in a busy neighboring village by the mayor, as Himejima was known to have defeated a demon that attacked their village. As his promise, Himejima asked you to accompany him to this festival. You could not be more thrilled to enjoy this festival with him. This will be your first trip together, and you are looking forward to the sweet and intimate moments you will share with your beloved husband. 

You carefully adjusted the position of the kanzashi Himejima had given you, ensuring your hair looked neat and elegant. This night had to be perfect, and you wanted to look your best as you were clothed in a beautiful embellished kimono. There is a mild feeling of nervousness in your heart. Not for anything negative, but you were not sure about today–you were hoping nothing terrible would happen to ruin your perfect night with Gyomei. 

You stepped out of the changing era to be greeted by your seven-foot-two husband standing firm with an olive kimono. He looked more attractive in your eyes than he was. The sight of him formed a curve on your lips. Hurriedly, you walked towards him and hugged his form. "My darling, you look so handsome," you told Gyomei.

As your body was pressed onto Himejima, you could feel his large hand rub your hair. You looked up to him to see him smile. His hand moved to feel your kimono; there, he tried to use his sense of touch to get a visualization of how you were clothed. Thus, his hands moved up to your cheeks, feeling the details of your face. He pulls you to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

"You're beautiful, (y/n)," You knew that Gyomei was blind and could only rely on his other senses, but he did not lie when he muttered those words to you. "How would you know? I'm starting to think you're just secretly pretending to be blind," you said, and you both let out a chuckle.  

"You're the most beautiful woman in here. I know that." Himejima confidently said it with a smile on his lips. This caused your heart to flutter, and your cheeks turned red. Gyomei really knows what to say every time. 

Both of you enjoyed touring the village by buying some souvenirs, playing some games, and eating the food the festival has to offer. In the middle of it, Gyomei noticed how you felt a little tired from the whole night. It was a long night, indeed. Although you wanted to wait for the fireworks show, you could feel yourself wanting to rest and sit down already. 

"(Y/n), are you okay?" he asks you. 

"I'm just a little tired from the walk. Can we rest for a while?" you replied.

The two of you went back to the inn for you to rest. The place was clean and spacious. You were hoping for the fireworks show, but it's still too early for that. Thus, the place was crowded as there were plenty of people at the festival. You rested with your husband, and you checked out the little trinkets you got. 

"Do you like them?" he'd ask, his voice gentle. 

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. "Yes. This is the one you got me," you replied, then reached out to him for a kiss on his lips.

"You barely give me kisses anymore," you mentioned jokingly to tease him. He was taken aback and was silent for a short while. You decided to be truthful and confront him with that, as you missed your husband's physical touch. "Gyomei, it’s okay. We've settled that already." 

Gyomei's face, usually serene and calm, would show a sight of pain. His silence would be filled with a heavy, almost palpable, weight. "That night changed me. As a pillar, I'm sworn to protect the weak and innocent. I cannot bear the thought of touching you when I'm afraid that I would only give you more pain." He would pause, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His voice would tremble slightly.

The love you feel for Himejima is beyond the stars. Your head falls onto Himejima's shoulders to let him know you were there for him and share the pain he felt. The stone hashira felt relieved by your act. He, too, loves you wholeheartedly. Though he has had some traumas in the past, you've also learned to become patient with him through difficult times. 

Thus, without hesitation, you planted a kiss on his cheeks. "Huh. That didn't feel scary at all." you teased him again to assure him that it was okay. This caused your husband to feel more comfortable in intimate moments. Slowly, building trust between the two of you. "Not even a bit painful–more likely sweet," you continued.

You could feel his warm, calloused hand—-Himejima held your face and wiped your cheek, feeling the detail of your right face. "I'll kiss you here." Without haste, he leaned onto your forehead and kissed you. "And here," He continued, kissing your cheeks, one after another. Thus, kiss your face all over. A slight pause to feel the moment of tension between you was getting heavy. You've always loved moments like this with him; it's so intimate, and it makes you explore more of your relationship with your husband. Thus, you never would have thought that your husband would be a man like this. 

Your first impression of Himejima based on his physical appearance was different from who he is right now. Given his colossal form, you would've guessed that he's a very traditional stoic man, especially with his religious background. However, you are glad you were wrong with your first impression, as Himejima is the sweetest and gentlest giant there. 

Then, you both gave in and let the moment happen. You could feel Gyomei's wet lips pressed onto yours heavily. His short kisses were good, but his long kisses were better. It does not feel fast or aggressive. Instead, it felt like he was taking his time. He lightly bit your lower lip in the middle of your make-out session. 

Gyomei pulled back from your ardent kissing. You took the opportunity to catch your breath. In your mind, this was the end of your intimate session with him. Though, you felt Gyomei plant a kiss on your jaw going down to your neck. This gave your skin shivers and butterflies on your stomach. 

He continued kissing you down to your neck to your chest, which made you caught off guard. "Gyomei, don't hold back," you whispered. The gentle giant heard you and followed your command. He did not stop his act and moved your shoulders down to the tip of your fingers. He then went back to attack your neck by licking a part of it and lightly biting your flesh. This caused you to release a soft moan. 

You felt embarrassed by that, as you didn't know that something like that could come out of your mouth. You covered your mouth to cover up the embarrassment. However, this encouraged Himejima to pleasure you more. His hand can be felt through your knees up to your thighs. Thus, you felt him pull away from your neck and move down on your thighs.

"G-gyomei—"You clearly felt his wet lips bite a part of your inner thigh. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as Himejima's lips trailed down your thigh. His kisses reached down to your thighs, which caused you to be more nervous than you were feeling already. His lips trailed your legs from your knee up to the innermost corner of your thigh, which caused you to shake a little. Then, you felt Himejima pull away and move up from your stomach to plant kisses on your chest. 

His touch was gentle yet firm, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but moan softly, your body reacting involuntarily to his pleasure.

Himejima paused and slowly removed your garment, revealing your chest area. You can feel the heat of your body getting warmer. He leaned in and kissed your bare chest, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin. You closed your eyes, lost in the moment. His mouth met your nipples, sucking it and nibbling it gently. "Gyomei," You moaned as you could feel the wetness of that area from his mouth. 

He removed his mouth from your breast and reached out to your forehead to plant a kiss there, only for him to move to the lower part of your body. As Himejima continued his exploration, your body began to tremble with anticipation. You can feel him move away from your robe for him to access your lower area, and his breath can be felt on your most precious part.  

You felt a sense of surrender, letting him take control. This made your body give in to him even more. His touch was so intimate, so personal. As he deepened his work on your lower body, your senses heightened, the world narrowing to the intensity of the moment. With such haste, your fingers covered your lady parts as you felt Himejima breathe.  

The gentle giant paused for a while and moved his head away between your legs. He gently grabbed your hand and placed it beside his cheek. "I want to feel you everywhere," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. You are clueless about the fact that you asked Gyomei not to hold himself back, but his confidence in examining your whole body has made you feel self-conscious. His words enabled you to give in and allowed him to continue with his act. 

He explored your lower area entirely, not leaving any surface of your skin untouched. Himejima's lips trailed a fiery path down your private parts, each brush igniting a shiver of anticipation. You surrendered utterly, lost in the intoxicating swirl of passion and tenderness. 

Himejima leans in after moving away from your lower body, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll use my fingers now." He speaks, informing you politely of the next act he is going to do to you. You felt his rough and thick fingers insert inside your precious parts slowly. With a tender touch, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You bit his lip in the middle of your passionate kiss and paused for a moment. You have never felt something like this before. Himejima's two fingers were enough to stretch you out and make you feel things differently for the first time. He continued moving his fingers swiftly until you pulled away from his lips and held his arm since you felt a knot coming from your stomach. A sudden, sharp pleasure shot through you, and you pulled away, breathless. A slight, involuntary sound escaped your lips as a warm liquid pooled between your thighs. Mortified, you covered your face, your heart pounding in your chest. 

The stone hashira positioned himself on top of you after you were catching your breath after the intense feeling of reaching your climax for the first time. You can feel Himejima's hands aligning his member to insert himself inside your womanhood. You can feel the tip of his member, and you know that there is a vast size difference between the two of you. However, despite your size difference with your husband, you trust him as you know how much of a gentle giant he is. You felt safe in his care, nevertheless. 

The stinging pain from the size of his manhood lingered, however, a wave of pleasure took over as Gyomei added more force in each thrust. There, you could not hold back your loud moans with each force he exerts onto you. You know well how Himejima could exert a much more stronger force to thrusts, but holds himself back as he is careful when it comes to situations like this. You were far too delicate for him to simply use much more of his strength.

As the giant man became faster, your nails dug deep into his muscular shoulders, holding onto him tightly. You have reached your peak and you felt like you were going to pass out from the feeling of your husband pounding onto you. In a glimpse of an eye, you felt one final hard thrust from him as he pulled out. 

Finally, Himejima pulled away, his breath heavy. You were still reeling from the intensity, the feeling of slumber amounting from the pleasure you felt. Without hesitation, he quickly grabbed a towel having hesitated at the last moment about releasing inside you. A blush crept up your neck as you instinctively closed your legs to hide your pulsating core and cover your chest. 

Afterwards, he gently covered you with his robe, sensing how vulnerable you felt as you were still exposed. “(Y/n), may I?” he asked softly, holding up a clean cloth. You hummed in response, your eyes still closed. Himejima carefully cleaned you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“No,” you muttered, staring at your husband’s stoic face. His hand stopped and he panicked after hearing your response. “Did I do anything wrong? Were you hurt?” 

“No, silly. I just wanted to get a reaction from you. You looked so serious,” you chuckled. The tension visibly eased from the stone hashira’s shoulders, though his concern still lingered. “I feel astonished…but I’ll forever cherish our first time together, Gyomei.”

A curve formed up his lips, he felt more at ease this time. “I’m glad you feel that way. I just wanted to make sure it was good for you,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I love making love with you, (y/n).” You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. As you lay there together, a sense of peace washed over you.  Under the soft glow of moonlight casting an ethereal glow upon you as you shared this moment with Gyomei. With enough trust and vulnerability from one another, this intimacy was your first time as a couple where both of you gave in to each other’s pleasure. 

[quimichi]

╰┈➤ SPEND SOME TIME WITH ME

Zhongli x Creator!Reader

Part 2.

"Zhongli!"

Zhongli straightens at the sound of your voice. His eyes flick to yours for a moment as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. He offers a humble bow in your direction, his eyes darting across the space between you two. "Yes... Your Grace." In all honesty, you had no idea why you called for him to see you. But you did, and once the little letter reached him, he came rushing into the palace. "I'm so glad you finally arrived" A nervous cough escapes Zhongli as he straightens. All signs of life seem to be returning to his skin. Though his gaze is still cast upon the floor, his breathing has become more even.

"I... I hope I have not wasted too much of your time," he murmurs, finally peering upwards. His cheeks are still a subtle shade of red. "You would never waste any of my time" were you flirting? Yes, maybe "Your Grace..." Zhongli's cheeks seem to flush as color rushes to his face. He averts his gaze, unable to meet yours after such words.

"You are... too kind," he murmurs, his voice softer than a whisper. You gave him a genuine smile of reassurance that, yes indeed, you meant it and its ok. Your smile seems to soothe away Zhongli's anxiety, a deep purr beginning to rumble through his chest.

After a moment, he glances up at you. His cheeks are still rosy, his gaze steady if not slightly downcast.: "What is it I might do for you?" His voice is warm and pleasant, like honey. "Spend some time with me please, I've been bored lately" you didn't wanted him to leave, he just came here after all. The words seem to send a shiver down Zhongli's spine. It seems to take a moment before its even realized why.

All he can manage is a soft, quiet reply: "Y... of course."

He shifts in place, sitting up a bit to turn himself towards you-- though he does not meet your gaze. His words are a simple promise, but so too are his actions; his every inch of his body turned towards you. Zhongli's gaze seems to flicker towards you, though it's almost as if he's afraid of meeting your eye.

He fidgets in place, looking almost restless. "Your Grace... How do you suppose we spend time... together?" His voice is soft and tentative, as if a misstep on his part could lead to your disapproval.....

So how do you want to spend your time together?

A/n: its fluff but hey, its cute so far ig----

[dabislittlemouse]

Hello! I just discovered your page and I love your writing style.

I had this idea in my head for while now.

You know how Dabi went and visit Hawks’ mom for information about him? Well, what if he had a lovable little sister who was clueless about who Dabi is. She thought “oh, he is friends with my big brother there is no harm talking with him.”

Dabi flirts with her a good bit and Hawks comes home like “get away from my cute little sister!” But he does it around about way.

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.1)

PART 2 // PART 3// THE COMPLETE MASTERLIST divider by @cafekitsune

ෆ Pairing: DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon in the next chapters so this one is mostly safe.

ෆ Before you read further: this is written entirely on Dabi’s POV. There are specific descriptions for Hawks’ sister such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc. and she is a female, age 20-21.

ෆ A/N: I love this request so much, it had my writing flowing so naturally and my motivation reached the sky. I hope you like this!

Another boring day of relentlessly hunting down for information. Walking in the empty alleyway, the weather’s getting bitter, clouds darkening the sky as rain is starting to fall, plinking against my black leather jacket. Man, I fucking hate rain. Feels uncomfortable on my skin, not to mention it weakens my quirk. But I have to finish this job. Once I start something today, I never leave it for tomorrow, cause we never know what tomorrow could bring. Unexpected things are not my forte, I prefer to plan my steps way ahead, I look closely at every clue and untangle any information that I see beneficial. Always one step ahead of my enemies, nothing goes away without catching my eye. No matter how small it is.

No matter how fast it is.

Yes, Hawks, the fastest hero out there, too fast for his own good. I chuckle under my breath, rolling my eyes at the thought of the traitorous pro hero. He’s been pretty useful so far, proven himself loyal to the cause. But something doesn’t sit right with me, hence the reason why I’m out there searchin’ for more information. Maybe it’s his sickening hero charm, makes me wanna vomit. Maybe it’s the fake smile he puts on that stupid face, who knows.. a traitor will always be a traitor. If he went as far as to betray the heroes, I won’t be surprised if he turns his back on us villains again.

Though if that happens, he will be incinerated before he even knows it. Burnt to ashes, those red feathers set ablaze by my own scorching flames. My hand itches at the thought of showing him his place, though I gotta stick with the plan and use him for all his worth.

Bzzz.

The sound of my burner phone grabs my attention. Probably one of my men who I’ve sent to stalk and watch over Hawks. Or maybe Twice, wanting to fuck around because he is lonely. Tch, I’m not in the mood either way.

“This better be important..” I rasp under my breath. Lately my patience’s been thin. Don’t know why.

“Sir, we have found something”

It was indeed one of the men I hired. Yeah, about time they finally made themselves useful. I hum in response, letting the man continue.

“The woman we found, she might be related to Hawks. According to the clues we’ve been gathering, it’s highly possible she could be his mother. If not his mother, then for sure someone from his family. We have found her address, all we need is your order so we can break in and get her for you, sir” the man explained.

“Mm there’s no need. I’ll pay the lady a visit myself” I smirk, knowing that she will be more intimidated by my grotesque sight only and start spilling everything. After the men give me her address, I waste no time to go there. Fortunately not too far from where I am right now.

Something weird forms in my chest. Not sure why, but I feel like I’m gonna have fun~

******

The picture I got sent was of a woman who seemed to be in her 40s, pale skin and exhausted eyes, big fluffy light brown hair, almost drained out of life. This is beyond weird, the mother of a pro hero who looked like she had lost her will to live? Ain’t no way. Supposedly the families of pro heroes usually live their best life.

A thought runs through my head and I chuckle. Damn, I should know by now, the families of pro heroes are those who in fact suffer the most.

Memorising the woman’s face and the address, I am now right in front of her house. It’s a small normal house, nothing fancy or special about it whatsoever. The rain has long stopped. I stop in front of her door, before giving it a few slow knocks. Nobody opens the door. I knock once again, if this door isn’t opened soon I’m gonna have to-

“Coming!! Just a second!!” A chirpy voice was heard, footsteps getting faster towards the door. This voice sounded lively, not the voice I could’ve imagined for the woman I’m looking for.

As the door opened, the sight in front of me leaves me speechless. My eyes widen a bit, taking in at person in front of me.

It’s a girl. Not the old woman in picture, this is a young pretty thing. Could be at her twenties, not sure. As she opens the door wider, she fixes her disheveled hair, removing those golden locks off her face while her caramel eyes fixed on mine, blinking in confusion with those pretty lashes. And her pjs, almost too revealing. Freckles cover her cheeks, her skin looks soft. It doesn’t take long for me to notice a pair of angelic white wings behind her.

“Umm hello, how can I help you with?” she asks, her voice meek and shy as she looks up at me under her lashes.

Fuck, it’s like the whole world stopped the moment I laid eyes her pretty face. I need to focus.

“Sorry for the bother, dollface” I manage to bring a friendly smile on my face but my raspy voice always betrays me. “I am looking for Hawks. I’m a friend of his..”

“Oh, Hawks? I’m sorry but my brother is not here at the moment. Maybe he is at his agency, did you check there?” she smiles back.

Before I find myself wondering why she is not scared by my appearance, my mind focuses on that one simple word: brother. She called Hawks her brother, so that means..

“Wait, don’t tell me that guy kept such a pretty thing like you hidden from me? You’re his sister?” I smirk, leaning on the doorstep, still stunned by the fact that the pro hero had a little sister.

“O-Oh yeah, I’m Takami Y/N!” she blushes, and my smirk grows wider knowing that such simple interaction already got me half of the information. That Hawks has a sister, and his last name is Takami.

“He doesn’t prefer to talk much about us in public” she continues. “It’s best for our safety”

Poor naive little thing. Got no clue in the world who I am, thinking I’m a friend. Is this how the hero looks over his family?

“Well well, that guy is full of surprises. You look a lot like him to be honest, that pretty hair of yours and those wings. A real angel aren’t cha?”

Her face is a blushing mess, all she can do is squirm in front of me and smile awkwardly. I came here for other purposes but damn it.. this pretty angel got me fucking hooked already. So petite, so innocent, a ray of sunshine, if I touch her with my destructive bloody hands I could probably defile her.

This thought gives me a sick twisted feeling in my chest, my eyes flaring in excitement.

“I-If you’d like I can invite you over for some tea? I can call my brother to come in the meantime. It’s only me and my mom here” she shyly says, breaking eye contact. I may be delusional, I am not the most handsome motherfucker out there I know, but she is acting like she saw her school crush. But I have to admit, I do have a sort of charm too. Call it villain charm if you will.

“Sure thing”. Making it easier for me princess, but also harder to focus on my main goal when you’re such beautiful distraction.

As my eyes wander around the living room, she hurries to the kitchen to prepare the tea. Enough time for me to find the lady in question. Her room was not hard to find, she was sitting on her bed. Simply entering and closing the door, I reach to her fast, putting a hand on her mouth.

“Don’t make a single sound or I will burn your sweet daughter to ashes” I threaten, showing her the blue flames flickering on my fingers. She nods, sweating and eyes widened in panic.

“Now..” I let her go while she stands there frozen in fear. “I’ll ask you some questions regarding to your son… and you’ll answer honestly. And trust me, I can tell when someone’s lying, so do not test me woman” I say sternly, all she does is whimper.

****

“Hey I thought you left?”

I find the pretty angel sitting on the couch, a confused look on her face.

“Ah m’sorry doll, had to use the bathroom. Also had a little chat with your mother, been a long time since I last saw her..”

It takes a lot for me to not burst into laughter, acting as if I’ve been Keigo’s childhood friend or something.

Keigo. Keigo Takami. This was his full name according to that woman. She didn’t hesitate to give me all the essential information, afraid I’d burn this place down and harm her precious daughter. Apparently that birdbrain’s been taken from the HSPC since a kid, trained to be a professional hero. And most importantly, his dad was a criminal, murdered someone back then.

Tch, the son of a criminal becoming a hero.

And the son of a hero becoming a criminal.

What a world.

I sit down on the couch, almost too close to his sister. My eyes hungrily take on the sight of her soft plush thighs, her chest, her plump lips.

“Tell me more about yourself dollface” I say, totally ignoring the tea and playing with some of her hair. “Y’gonna be a hero like your brother?”

“Ah none of the sort. I’d rather not get myself into heroic stuff” she giggles, and that sound has my jeans tighten uncomfortably. It’s taking everything in me to not pounce on her right here right now, stripping her off everything and making her scream for me. Just imagine the sight her brother would come across to if he suddenly shows up, her little sister all naked and bruised, used for my own sick pleasure..

Such an angelic being, I have the need to fucking break her and shape her however I see fit. A man like me could never be deserving of her.

“You don’t want to be a hero? How come? Wouldn’t you like to save people, princess? To fight against big scary villains who threaten the innocent out there..”

“I don’t think that’s a job for me. I can still help people without being a hero. And I don’t think I’d be strong or brave enough to go against villains, you know?” she says, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Awn, poor thing, y’scared from villains?” I grin, placing my scarred hand on her knee, feeling her smooth skin. She squirms, probably by the warmth of it. The way she bites her lower lip nervously has my cock throbbing in my pants. Little does she know she’s in the presence of one of the most dangerous villains in Japan.

“Y’think they gonna hurt you? Maybe they will, if they see you so cute and vulnerable out there, they won’t hesitate to hunt ya down”. My firm grip on her knee has her swallowing, nodding silently.

“So I hope your brother protects you enough” I chuckle. “Cause see, if I was a villain? Man, I’d do anything to kidnap you and make you mine”

Her eyes widen, she laughs nervously, thinking this was some joke. Far from it.

“But you’re no villain right? You’re just my brother’s friend?” she murmurs, feeling tense. Her body language is so easy to read.

“Yes baby, I’m only his friend. My appearance might creep ya out but I promise I’m safe”

She seems to calm down a little. Completely unaware of what I could be capable of.

“Your appearance is not creepy by the way” she says. “I’d say it’s more.. unique. In a good way. I’ve never seen someone who looks like you”

I raise my eyebrows. Her words have me taken aback. For the longest time all I’ve gotten were stares filled with fear or disgust, couldn’t blame them. But this was a new thing, I feel something strange in my chest at her comment. Fuck, I don’t like this. I can’t seem to find any good comeback now, not when she’s staring at me so longingly. I’d rather have her scared, calling me an ugly monster, rather than this.

“Cute little thing wants to get on my good side huh? Wanna charm me, get me hooked with those sweet words? Y’need to be careful~” I say teasingly, reaching to grab her chin and have her look at me. I stare at her caramel eyes, wondering how they’d look full of tears.

“N-No it’s just the truth, I’m not lying” she shakes her head. “If I found you scary I wouldn’t have let you come inside”

“Come inside?” I raise an eyebrow. “Y’need to be more specific..or this might get another meaning”

She looks confused, not getting it at first, but the moment she sees the perverse smile on my face, her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that pervert! I meant come inside my house!”

I let out a laugh, probably the only genuine laugh I had after such a long time. God, she’s so cute and fun to mess with. Such gem that Hawks kept hidden from me. Well, not anymore.

After some time chatting with my angel, the door bursts open. I turn around, smirking at the familiar face.

“Look who decided to show up!” I stand up, opening my arms as if waiting to receive a hug from him. “The winged hero. I was looking for you. I had the pleasure of meeting your family, y’never told me you had a little sister? Such pretty thing you never mentioned her to anyone, I thought we were close friends Keigo..”

The expression on his face is entertaining, he looks beyond shocked. Probably didn’t expect for me to call him by his real name. Or when his sister comes after me, too close, a bright charming smile on her face.

“Welcome home! I invited Dabi inside to wait for you, couldn’t let him out in the pouring rain-”

“Y/N get back in your room. Now” The hero’s voice is stern, serious, and the poor girl’s smile fades off her face. His piercing gaze never leaving mine. I’m not intimidated at the slightest, it’s mostly amusing.

“But Kei-”

“Now” he repeats. As she prepares to turn around and leave, I reach to grab her hand, not letting her go.

“Very overprotective aren’t cha, big brother?” I smirk, bringing his sister closer to me, wrapping my hands around her waist. Hawks looks like he is ready to kill me, anger visible in his golden eyes now that I’m playing around with his little sister, probably his weakest spot that he tried to keep hidden from the world.

“Me and her already clicked. She’s very fun to have around, we chatted a lot when you weren’t here didn’t we angel?” I turn to her, all she does is blush and nod shyly. I tap my fingers around her small waist, making her squirm. It takes everything in me to not dig my fingers on that soft skin and leave bruises. Then I reach for her white wings, and apparently she is very sensitive there. The way those wings flutter and she tries to break free from my grip, whining for me to stop. And all of this in front of her brother.

“Very nice of you to treat my friend this way” Hawks says, seems like he already caught up what’s going on. He’s playing it cool, so I won’t hurt his family. “Dabi, could you come outside now? We have stuff to discuss.”

I do not protest further, there’ll be enough time to stay with my angel now that I already know where she lives and where she studies. My new little toy.

“See ya later, dollface” I pinch her cheek, before sliding my hand across her jawline. My thumb touching her lower lip slightly, and the softest gasp leaves her pretty mouth.

“Bye Dabi..” she whispers, almost hypnotised by my touch. My name rolling off her tongue is the sweetest melody my ears could ever hear.

Can’t wait to come back for you, sweetheart

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @spltbtch @sukunas-bitxh @awalkingshame @bubblegumsblog @highbats69

[dees-writing-corner]

ink and needles

pairings: tattoo artist! bf! wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2890

main masterlist

“Hongjoong, will you stop pacing?” Exasperated, I stood in front of him, blocking his path. “You’ve made my floorboards at least 3 shades lighter. Now can you please tell me why you’ve barged into my house at 3 o’clock in the morning with the intention of putting a dent in my living room floor?”   

“Okay, so, remember that little trip we have with some of the boys on Saturday?”   

Curling back into the corner of the sofa, I nodded, “Yeah, what about it?”   

Hongjoong smiled awkwardly as he inched away from me, “Well, um, some of the boys has turned into all of the boys.”   

Raising a brow, I sent him a look, “Okay? Why are you getting so worked up about that?”   

“It means Wooyoung’s gonna be there as well.”   

“So?”   

Hongjoong frowned as he looked at me, “You’re alright with Wooyoung being there?”   

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Standing up, I made my way back into my bedroom, Hongjoong trailing behind me as he turned off the lights.   

“I - uh- I just, you two have a love-hate relationship going on, just thought that you might want to get away from all that while you're trying to relax.”   

Pulling my duvet back, I paused before looking up at Hongjoong, who was leaning against the wall, “Wha-? Why would you think that?”   

Slipping into bed, I looked at Hongjoong as he made his way to the door.   

“You two bicker. A lot. Every time you see each other, you bicker. Doesn't it get tiring sometimes?”   

“It’s just how we are. I mean, yes, he knows how to get on my nerves, and can sometimes not know when to stop talking, but he’s a good b- a good friend. I wouldn't change it for anything.”  

Turning my back to him, I reached my hand out and turned off the lights.   

"You know where the guest rooms are, now goodnight, Joong."  

I watched as Hongjoong slid into the passenger side of the car before I looked at Wooyoung in the backseat grinning.  

Leaning down next to Hongjoong's window, I raised a brow at both him and Seonghwa, "You two do know that you've just assigned yourselves a death sentence by putting Wooyoung and I in the same car, right?"  

Sliding into the seat next to Wooyoung, I watched as Seonghwa adjusted the rear-view mirror before backing out the driveway with a nod, "Yeah, yeah, just don't bicker the whole way there or else I'm gonna be throwing one of you out."  

Casting a glance at Wooyoung, I nodded, "As long as he knows when to shut up, we'll be fine Hwa."  

Wooyoung pouted, putting a hand on his chest dramatically as he leaned over to me, "How could you say that about me?"  

Rolling my eyes, I pushed his face away from mine, "Oh, hush, ask anyone in our friend group what your favourite pastime is and they'll say trying to rile me up."  

I could see him nod in my peripheral vision, "True, I like seeing you all riled up, you get all pouty and it's cute."  

Making a sound from the back of my throat, I turned to look at him, "I don't pout when I'm annoyed."  

Wooyoung was about to say something when Hongjoong cut in, "You do. You furrow your brows and then start pouting."  

Looking over to Seonghwa, I saw him nod along, "Yeah, they're right." Stopping at a red light, he glanced back at me and grinned, "You're doing it right now."  

Pausing, I realised that, yes, I was indeed pouting.  

Running a hand over my face, I glared at the three men laughing at me, "Why are you guys ganging up on me today?"  

I felt Wooyoung put his hand on top of my head as he ruffled up my hair, "Because it's fun."  

Swatting his hand away, I tried to smooth down my hair, "Stop it. I just washed my hair this morning, and if it gets all frizzy because you did that, you and I are gonna have a talk, pretty boy."  

Chuckling, Wooyoung pushed my hands out of the way before running his own over my hair, "Your hair's fine sweetheart."  

I could see Hongjoong share a confused look with Seonghwa before he glanced back at us. Ignoring it, I chose to concentrate on my phone.  

Replying to the messages Mingi sent me, I felt a presence next to me. Turning my head to the side, I frowned when I noticed Wooyoung's face right next to mine.  

Glancing up at Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I kept my voice low, "What are you doing?"  

"Quick question."  

Feeling his lips brush the shell of my ear, I leaned back slightly, "What is it? And can you please quit breathing down my neck, it tickles."  

Wooyoung chuckled slightly, "Whatever you say. I just wanted to ask if we're telling them tonight?"  

"Yeah?" Turning my head to look at him, "When else are we gonna tell them? I don't think you can keep your hands to yourself for two days, Woo."  

Wooyoung smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he thought of something, "Hmm, I definitely won't be able to."  

Arriving at the holiday house late in the afternoon, everyone had just about enough time to settle into their rooms before our dinner would arrive.  

Exiting the bathroom, I noticed Wooyoung sitting in my bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.  

Making my way over, I sat down next to him, "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"  

Grinning, Wooyoung put his phone down and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer, "Just came to see how my pretty baby's doing."  

Scrunching up my nose at the nickname, I let out a small chuckle, "I should be the one asking you that. You're the one that's been scared to tell them."  

Tightening his arm around my waist, Wooyoung nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, "That's only because I'm afraid one of them is gonna castrate me. They're all like overprotective brothers and it's scary."  

Wiggling out of his arms, I stood up from the bed, holding a hand out to him, "Come on, let's go down, they're probably already in the kitchen."  

Wooyoung latched on to my hand, pulling me out of the bedroom and downstairs. As we rounded the corner to the kitchen, we paused when we heard Hongjoong talking.  

In the kitchen, the rest of the boys were setting up the table ready for dinner as Hongjoong and Seonghwa took the food off the serving carts, "No, but something felt strange between them. Hwa, back me up here."  

Seonghwa set the last plate on the table with a shrug, "Yeah, they were acting a bit weird. I mean, they were still bickering, but also, like, flirting."  

Everyone looked at Hongjoong and Seonghwa in disbelief as Yeosang let out a laugh, "I'm sorry, flirting? Those two? Okay, Wooyoung might come off a bit flirty at times, but that's because he's Wooyoung. It's not like Y/N flirts back."  

Hongjoong simply nodded, leaning against the kitchen island, "Yeah, that's what normally happens, but Y/N called him 'pretty boy' today." 

Sharing a look with Wooyoung, I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. Shaking my head, I entered the kitchen with Wooyoung following behind me.  

"And what are we talking about?"  

The sound of my voice startled them as they whipped their heads towards us.  

Jongho's eyes flickered between Wooyoung and I before glaring at Wooyoung when he caught something in his expression, "No."  

I felt Wooyoung snake an arm around me, grinning up at Jongho, "I'm gonna have to say, yes."  

Jongho threw his head back as he let out a groan, "Ugh, we're gonna have to deal with you two bickering AND flirting?" Jongho made his way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer, "This is going to be a long weekend, beer anyone?"  

The others looked at each other before Mingi broke the silence, "Uh, anyone want to fill us in?" 

Running a hand over my face, I grinned awkwardly at them, "We're dating?"  

Turning on the reading lamp, I picked up my book as I waited for Wooyoung to finish in the bathroom.  

"Well," Flinching slightly, I was startled by Wooyoung's sudden entrance, "That went better than I expected."  

Looking up, I watched as Wooyoung exited the bathroom, the lettering at the base of his neck and the serpent that curled at his shoulder blade on display.  

"Really?" Putting the book down, I arched an eyebrow as he slid in next to me. "What did you think would happen?"  

Once Wooyoung was comfortable against the headboard, I sat up, opting to staddle Wooyoung with my arms wrapped around his neck as his hands found purchase on my waist.  

"Definitely didn't think Hongjoong was going to point a wooden spoon at me and threaten to hunt me down with one of his easels."  

Laughing, I couldn't help but envision Hongjoong chasing Wooyoung with an easel, "What would he even accomplish? Those things are heavy!"  

Sliding one of my hands down, I traced the tattoo over his chest as the other played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.  

Wooyoung picked up the hand on his chest and raised it up to his lips, pressing a kiss at the pulse point, "What's going through that pretty little head of yours, hmm?"  

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I raised my eyes to meet his, a shy expression taking over my face, "I wanna get a tattoo."  

Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up as he looked up at me in surprise, "Yeah? I thought you were afraid of needles."  

Humming, I felt Wooyoung's hands slip under my shirt, his thumbs rubbing circles on my hips, "I am, but I want to get one and maybe a few more piercings."  

Wooyoung grinned as he nuzzled into the side of my face, lips brushing against my cheek, "Want me to do them for you, pretty?"  

Pulling back slightly, I looked at him, "Please?"  

Wooyoung pressed a kiss on my lips, leaning his forehead against mine, "Let's talk about this tomorrow. I'll book you in when the new shop opens."  

Wooyoung's arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against his chest as his lips found their way down the column of my neck.  

“Please tell me you’re joking.”  

Turning my head to glance at Hongjoong, I took a step closer to him as we made our way down the street.  

“What?” I shrugged, turning to face ahead. “I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for ages. Plus, I want to get a couple more piercings, so, why not?”  

Hongjoong looked at me in disbelief, “You’re terrified of needles. You can’t even get a shot without getting all anxious, and you think you can sit through being jabbed continuously with one?”  

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his words, “You’re exaggerating, I’m just not too fond of needles, that’s all.”  

Hongjoong moved to hook an arm with mine, “Hmmm. When are you getting it done?”  

Glancing at the watch on my wrist, I looked at him with a sheepish smile, “My appointment’s in about 10 minutes, so, um let's hurry up.”

Hongjoong paused for a second before pinching my arm, “You could’ve told me sooner!”  

“Yeah, well, uh, we’re here.”  

Stopping in front of a glass door, Hongjoong squinted up at the sign above.  

“This is Wooyoung and San’s new shop.”  

“It is.”  

Pushing the door open, Hongjoong and I walked in, taking a seat as San handed me a couple pieces of paper to look through.  

“You chose Wooyoung over ME?” Hongjoong whined as he looked at me with a pout.  

Not even looking up, I shook my head, "As much as I love you, Joong, the tattoos that you do are too.... extravagant for my taste."  

Signing the last piece of paper, I handed them to San before looking at Hongjoong, "Are you staying out here with San?"  

Seeing him nod, I stood up and made my way to the last room down the corridor, where Wooyoung's workstation was.  

Pushing the door open, I saw Wooyoung moving around the room, getting everything ready for the tattoo. Upon hearing the door creak open, he looked up, a smile making its way across his face when he saw me.  

Closing the door behind me, I let Wooyoung wrap his arms around me and press a kiss on my temple.  

"Nervous?"  

Nodding against him, I stepped back, placing my bag and jacket on the chair next to the door.  

"Of course I am."  

Wooyoung gave me a soft smile as he motioned me over to the workbench, "Come on, I'll do your piercings first."  

Settling down, I clipped my hair back as Wooyoung put his gloves on.

"You want two more helix piercings, yeah? Same ear?"  

Nodding, I watched as Wooyoung took a marker out, marking the positions of the piercings in my left ear before setting it down and taking a sterile needle out. Screwing my eyes closed, I turned my head to the side as I held onto the sides of Wooyoung's shirt as he slotted himself between my legs.  

Hearing Wooyoung countdown quietly, I let out a small breath before wincing as the needle went through.  

"Alright, one more to go."  

Once the second one went through, I slowly let go of Wooyoung's shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles as Wooyoung changed out the needles for studs.  

Turning to look at him, Wooyoung gave me an encouraging smile as he ran his hand up and down my thighs.  

"Ready for the tattoo, pretty?"  

Seeing me nod, Wooyoung stepped back from me to prepare his tattoo gun, "You're gonna have to take off your shirt and bra, babe."  

Unbuttoning my shirt, I slid it off my shoulders before unhooking my bra. Turning on the bench, I leaned my back against the seat with an arm covering myself.  

Wooyoung snapped on a pair of fresh gloves before seating himself on the stool next to me to start prepping my skin, "Ready?"  

Casting a nervous side glance, I smiled, "Definitely."  

Wooyoung pressed a quick kiss on my cheek before turning on the tattoo gun. Hearing the buzz fill the room, my body tensed slightly, before relaxing under Wooyoung's touch.  

Feeling the needle prick my skin, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The tattoo was a simple chrysanthemum design on the side of my ribs, and it didn't take long to complete.  

Wiping away the excess ink, Wooyoung leaned back to have a better look before tilting his head towards the mirror, "Go on, take a look before I wrap it."  

Hoping off the bench, I made my way to the side of the room where the mirror was.  

Scanning my eyes over the design, I smiled, "This is good."  

Chuckling, Wooyoung made his way over to me with a bandage in hand, "Of course it does! I did it!"  

Chuckling, I waited until Wooyoung finished whatever it was that he needed to do, before turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss on his lips, "Thank you."  

"My pleasure, pretty. But why a chrysanthemum?"  

Smiling, I let go of him and went over to the bench to slip my shirt back on, "It's the birth flower for November."  

Putting my bra into my bag, I turned to see Wooyoung standing at his workstation with a disinfectant spray in hand with a surprised expression, "Oh? So, it's for me then?"  

Shaking my head, a fond smile made its way across my face, "I was born in November too, pretty boy."  

Wooyoung wiped down the remaining bit of the workstation before walking out the door with me, my bag and jacket in hand.  

"Yeah, but I'd much rather think it's for me."  

Laughing, I paused slightly when we entered the reception area, "Uh, where are San and Hongjoong?"  

Wooyoung picked up a sticky note from behind the reception desk, "Well, they've left already. You were the last one of the day."  

Looking out the window, I noticed that it was raining pretty heavily outside.  

"Did you drive here, babe?"  

Wooyoung handed me my jacket before taking his off the clothing rack by the door, "Yeah, it's parked down the street."  

Exiting the shop, Wooyoung locked to door before turning to me, placing his jacket over the top of our heads, "Dinner at mine?"  

Seeing me nod, we both darted out into the rain and ran towards his car.  

Reaching the car, Wooyoung quickly unlocked it allowing me to slide into the passenger side, shaking my arms slightly.  

Wooyoung got into the seat beside me, shaking his head slightly to get rid of some of the water particles in there.  

Turning on the car ignition, Wooyoung turned to me, smiling, "What? You're staring, pretty."  

Taking his hand, I pressed a kiss on the back of it, "I love you."  

Wooyoung's hand tightened its hold on mine before letting go to tilt my head towards him. He leaned over the centre console, one of his hands finding its way to the back of my head as his lips found mine.  

"I love you too." 

taglist: @khuyyn (if you want to get updates for my oneshots/imagines, just message/comment)