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[frameconfessions]

I hope the protoframes remain relevant even after this story arc for the Drifter concludes, but I also recognize how complicated things would get with how many characters they could keep trying to make stay relevant, leading to a Konoha 13 Naruto type situation where we have too many relevant characters from Umbra & Ordis all the way to Kaya Velasco.

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[grapejuicegay]

Sometimes I just start thinking about this moment - paired with Maddie's "I just think that maybe you're not sure of your own feelings yet. And if there's something that you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just, in your own time" - and then don't stop thinking about it.

Maybe I'm just reading into it but the way this moment moves. Eddie steps forward, Tommy steps up to exactly where Eddie was, Buck turns to look where Eddie was, doesn't find what he was looking for but still finds something good. It's not just ep 4 and 5 where the focus on Eddie blows me away, it's also this.

[fleurbly]

HER FATHERS KILLER, HER HEARTS KEEPER.

part I, part II, part III.

summary: being the daughter of a vampire hunter is complicated enough especially when you’re sneaking out at night to be with the vampire you’re meant to hate — torn between loyalty and desire, caught in a dangerous game where every choice could cost you everything.

warnings: sexual content, explicit scenes, non-consensual undertones, coercion, manipulation, domestic tension, family conflict, pregnancy and forced pregnancy, power imbalance, emotional abuse, distress, threats of violence, threats of murder.

pairing: dark!remmick x reader

w/c: 12k+

DNI IF THE TAGS AFFECT YOU, YOU HAVE BEEN WANRED.

Your shoes were already ruined.

You tried not to look down, but you could feel it with every step—how the soft leather had soaked through, how the stitching was pulling loose from the soles, how something sticky was tugging faintly at your heels each time you lifted your foot. The hem of your dress had given up a half-mile ago. Now it dragged behind you like a flag in the dirt, pale blue fabric stained dark with mud and bent grass, torn where it had caught on brambles.

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

Not because you were afraid—though, now, deep in your chest, you could admit that maybe you were. But mostly because you had known from the start that you didn’t belong here. Not like this. Not in your good dress, with your hair pinned up neatly and your hands still smelling faintly of lavender soap. Not with a borrowed bow in your arms like it was a clutch purse, like you had to carry it because it would’ve been rude to say no.

“Just a quick look,” your father had said when the sky turned strange, his voice gruff but warm. “Thought you might like to see what my days are like, now that the weather’s cleared.”

You’d wanted to say no. You’d almost said it. But then he’d rested one of his heavy hands on your shoulder—careful, like he always was, like you were made of something fragile—and you’d only nodded instead.

Now you were ankle-deep in a part of the woods that didn’t even feel like woods anymore.

The trees here were too old, too tall. They bent inward like they were sharing secrets just above your head, their branches tangled like ribs, pressing in. The air beneath them was wrong—too still, too thick, with that sour-damp smell like mildew and closed-up cellars. No birdsong. No breeze. The only sound was your own footsteps and the squelch of earth pulling at them.

The light—if you could call it that—had stopped changing hours ago.

It hung in the trees like fog, tinted a strange kind of blue-lavender, like the sky couldn’t decide if it was night or not. There was no sun. Just a heavy, purplish glow that turned everything soft and dim around the edges. Not dark enough to be dangerous, but not light enough to feel safe. It felt like the world had paused, like time had sunk into the earth and left you wandering through the breath between two heartbeats.

And you were sweating. God, were you sweating.

You could feel a line of it slipping down your back beneath the stays of your corset, itching as it went. You’d pulled your gloves off half an hour ago, and your fingers looked out of place without them—narrow and flushed, your nails too clean for all this earth. You kept looking at the bow your father had slung over your shoulder before you guys had stepped off the path. It felt wrong in your hands. Too big. Too quiet. Like it was waiting for you to do something you didn’t understand.

“I don’t know how to shoot this,” you’d said earlier, your voice too light and sweet and soft.

Your father had smiled in that tired way he did sometimes. “Doesn’t matter if you shoot. Just need to hold it. Makes you less of a target.”

A target for what, he hadn’t said.

And you—foolishly, stupidly—hadn’t asked.

You thought you saw the path curve—just ahead, behind the long fingers of a willow that leaned too far into the trail, its tendrils brushing the ground like it was searching for something lost. Your father hadn’t said where the path led. He hadn’t spoken much at all since you passed the creek. His eyes stayed ahead, watchful—not worried, just focused, like he was trying to remember something half-forgotten.

You stepped over a cluster of roots, skirt catching in a low tangle of thorns again. They left little marks on the hem, snagging at the embroidery. You sighed softly and smoothed the fabric with your hand. And that’s when you noticed it.

The air had changed.

Not wind—there was no breeze, not even a ripple in the tall grass—but a kind of hush. Like the trees had paused mid-breath, like the world was listening.

“Papa?” you asked, gently, just behind him.

He lifted his hand without turning. A small motion, like asking for quiet—not out of fear, just... wanting to see something clearly before it slipped away.

And then the woods thinned.

The trees parted all at once, and the light turned strange—soft, pale, the color of a storm that never came. It painted the world in a faint wash of violet-blue, as if the sun had never quite risen and never would. At first, it was hard to tell what you were looking at. Everything was so still. But then you saw them—rooftops. Faint outlines of buildings sunk into the wild growth, their edges softened by time and vine.

A town. Or what was left of one.

There were no signs, no fences. Just the slow fade of wild woods into old pathways—grass overtaking cobblestones, ivy creeping up broken doorframes. The houses leaned gently, as if bowing to the years, not broken, just tired. The windows were open to the air, empty but not lifeless.

And at the far end—a church.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until your father did too.

It stood quiet, worn white paint peeled to the wood, the steeple bent just enough to feel graceful in its fall. The cross at its top was half-broken, yes—but it didn’t look ruined. It looked weathered, like a memory. The front doors hung loose from their hinges, and the windows—tall, arched, bare—let in the violet sky like they’d been meant to.

It didn’t feel frightening.

Only... still. Like something left in peace.

“I don’t know what this place is,” you whispered. “It feels strange. Not bad—just...”

Your father glanced down at you, then toward the church again. He didn’t look alarmed, only quiet. The kind of quiet he wore when something touched a place in him he didn’t speak about often.

He placed his hand gently on your arm. “Stay here,” he said. “I just want a look around. I won’t be long.”

Your hand reached out without thinking, catching the sleeve of his coat. “Don’t go in without me,” you said, the words a little breathless. “Please.”

He hesitated, just for a second. Then he gave you that small, familiar look—the one that said he didn’t quite understand your worry, but he’d carry it for you anyway. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders like a blanket.

“You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tucking the collar closer to your chin. “Just don’t stray too far. Not here.”

You nodded, though your chest felt tight in a way you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear. Not really. Just something quiet and strange and wide, like the kind of hush that comes before a snowfall.

You watched him go, his figure moving steady down the worn path, past the quiet buildings and the empty windows, toward the slanted church that waited at the town’s end like a sleeping thing.

You stood alone in the purple-tinted stillness, your hands tucked in the too-long sleeves, the bow loose and forgotten at your side. The air was warm and soft, full of the smell of dust and growing things. It didn’t feel haunted. It felt... paused.

Like something beautiful had been waiting here a long time to be remembered.

And above you, the sky stayed that same strange color—neither dusk nor dawn. A deep, endless twilight that made everything feel like a dream you weren’t sure you were meant to wake from.

You stayed where you were, just like he told you. Standing quiet, your fathers other spare coat wrapped around your shoulders, the hem of your dress catching in the grass when the breeze finally stirred. If it even was a breeze. It felt more like the town had exhaled. Long and low, like it had forgotten someone was listening.

You shifted your weight, glancing back at the path, then toward the church where your father had gone. The doors were still open. No sound came from within.

And then—

Movement.

Not from the church.

From the far end of the street, near a small house tucked behind what had once been a garden. It was the only one that didn’t look half-swallowed by the land. The shutters still clung to their windows, the porch hadn’t caved in, and the front door was crooked, but not broken. There were even wind chimes strung near the eaves—silent now, but still hanging, like someone had tied them there not too long ago.

From the shadow of that porch, a cat stepped out.

You blinked, surprised—not because it was there, but because it looked so... ordinary.

Gray, with white socks and a patch over one eye, its fur soft-looking even at a distance. Not starved. Not wild. It stretched its back in the warm light, tail high, and padded across the road with no urgency at all, like it walked this path every day.

It didn’t look at you, not at first.

It only moved with slow, sure steps, past the weeds growing between the cobblestones, past the hollow houses and the yawning windows. Then, halfway across the street, it paused.

And turned its head.

You found yourself taking a small step forward before you meant to.

The bow at your side shifted in your hand, light and awkward. You glanced at it, then back to the cat.

It blinked once. Slowly.

Then turned again, swishing its tail once behind it, and walked back toward the house. Not hurrying. Not calling for you. Just moving, like it expected you to follow.

You hesitated.

Only for a second.

The church still stood in its quiet lean, unmoving. Your father hadn’t come back out. You weren’t worried—not yet. But you were alone. And the house—that one house—felt... different. Not inviting, exactly. But alive. In a way nothing else in the town quite was.

You looked back at the cat.

It had stopped on the porch and was watching you again, one paw resting delicately on the step, tail curled neatly around its legs.

Waiting.

You looked once more toward the church.

Its silhouette stayed the same: quiet, still, folded into the soft horizon like it had been drawn there with a piece of charcoal. No sign of your father. No sound from inside. Just the sky above, holding steady in that odd not-evening hue—somewhere between violet and stormwater blue.

You turned your gaze back to the cat.

It had settled on the top step of the porch, tail curled neatly around its body like a ribbon. It didn’t blink when you met its eyes—just stared, unbothered, like it had all the time in the world and none of it belonged to you.

You walked slowly toward it, your skirt whispering through the tall grass that had overtaken the cobblestone path. Your boots caught once on a loose stone, but you didn’t stumble. One hand held the bow loosely at your side, the other clutching your father’s coat closed around your frame. It still carried the smell of tobacco and pine sap, and you breathed it in like a small kind of bravery.

The cat didn’t move.

Just watched, blinking slowly as you reached the bottom step.

You stopped there a moment. Let your eyes trace the curve of the porch rail, the lean of the ivy as it climbed in quiet spirals along the side of the house. The wood under your boots groaned softly as you stepped up, and the cat gave the barest flick of its tail.

“You’re not lost, are you?” you said quietly, crouching down a little. “You look like you know where you are.”

The cat tilted its head just a little.

You offered the ghost of a smile.

“I don’t. Not really.” You glanced back over your shoulder, down the path you’d come. The church still waited there at the end of the road, shadowed and distant. You swallowed. “My papa says not to wander. But he didn’t say anything about following a cat.”

As if in reply, the cat stood and slipped through the half-open door without a sound.

You hesitated.

Not because you were scared. Not really. It was just the feeling—the stillness of it all. Like this place had been waiting for you. Like the moment you stepped inside, it might close its hand around you and hold you in place for good.

But still, you followed.

The door opened just wide enough for you to slip in after it. The light inside was dim but soft, stretched through old lace curtains that filtered the sky into lavender and pearl. It painted everything in that same dream-haze as the world outside.

You stepped gently, boots pressing into old floorboards that sighed beneath your weight but didn’t protest. The air was warm. Clean. Carried that faded scent of dried herbs and cotton sun-bleached long ago. Your fingers brushed the edge of a side table as you passed—a bowl of smooth river stones sat in the center, their colors dulled by time but polished to a gentle shine.

The cat had already made itself at home.

It was curled on an armchair to the left, nestled deep in the cushion like it had always belonged there. One paw tucked under its chin. Eyes closed now. Content.

You smiled, soft and a little unsure, as you walked past it.

“You’re lucky,” you murmured, letting your voice fall to just above a whisper. “If I could curl up somewhere and sleep like that, I think I would too.”

The cat’s ear twitched, but it didn’t open its eyes.

You stood there for a long breath, your hands fisted gently into the sleeves of your father’s coat, the bow still resting awkwardly in the crook of your arm. Everything in this room was soft and still and careful. Like it was holding itself together so it wouldn’t startle you.

You didn’t sit. You didn’t move far.

You just stood in the middle of that little room where the air felt warmer than outside, where the walls felt thick with memory and quiet. Where a cat had waited on the porch like it knew you’d follow.

The cat’s purring was steady, its body warm under your fingertips as you gently stroked its fur. You hadn’t expected it, but the soothing hum of the cat’s contentment seemed to relax something inside you. The house, though old and worn, felt almost familiar in that moment. The soft, rhythmic purring made the world outside feel distant, almost like you were in a quiet bubble, away from the strange, unsettling nature of the woods and the things you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to forget. To breathe without the weight of worry. The cat’s presence, its warm body curled in the armchair, was simple and real. Something that could almost make you believe that not everything in the world was... strange. Something normal.

You ran your hand over its back again, slower this time, enjoying the peaceful moment. But as you did, a voice cut through the quiet—low, smooth, almost like it belonged in the room with you.

“He doesn’t usually take to new people.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze.

The cat’s ears twitched at the sound of the voice, but it didn’t move from its spot. It seemed to know—just like you—that something had shifted in the room.

Your hand instinctively gripped the bow at your side, fingers tightening around the familiar wooden shape. Slowly, you stood, your body tensing as you turned toward the voice.

At the top of the stairs stood a man. His presence was almost too still, like he was a part of the shadows in the house, blending seamlessly into the atmosphere. His gaze locked onto you with a sharpness that sent a chill down your spine.

You took a step back without thinking, your heart racing in your chest. Your hand clenched tighter around the bow, as though it could offer some kind of defense against the unnerving calm that radiated from him.

His eyes never left you. They were dark, deep, and filled with something you couldn’t place. Something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The silence between you two was thick, heavy. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in your throat. He wasn’t threatening, not exactly. But there was something about him—something about the way he stood there—that made you uneasy.

“Who are you?” you managed to ask, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. It sounded almost like an apology, a soft question rather than an accusation.

The man’s lips twitched at the corner, just slightly, as if he found the situation amusing. But his expression remained composed, unreadable.

“You’re a hunter’s daughter, ain’t you?” he asked, voice low and smooth, as if he were merely stating a fact.

Your stomach twisted at the mention of your father’s occupation. You hadn’t said anything about it, and yet he knew. A cold shiver ran down your spine. The bow felt heavier in your hands now, though it hadn’t changed weight.

“I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat again. How could he possibly know that? How could he know anything about you?

The man didn’t press for an answer. Instead, he stepped down the stairs slowly, the creak of the old wood beneath his feet cutting through the stillness. There was something deliberate about his movement, calculated, like he was measuring every step.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot, every instinct telling you to leave, but your body wouldn’t obey.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you finally said, though it came out more as a statement than a challenge. “Who are you?”

The man stopped at the base of the stairs, not too far from you now. You could see him clearly—his dark, disheveled hair, the sharpness of his jaw, and the way his eyes studied you with an unsettling intensity.

“I’m Remmick,” he replied, his voice carrying the weight of something ancient, as if the name itself held meaning that went beyond just the sound of it.

You swallowed hard, still unsure whether you were in danger. Remmick. It meant nothing to you, but it did something to the air between you two. It made everything feel tighter, heavier.

You opened your mouth to ask something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you found yourself staring at the cat again. It had resumed purring, now almost as though it was unconcerned with the man standing behind you.

“You were asking about him earlier,” Remmick said, his voice drawing your attention back to him. “He’s… particular. Doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

His eyes flicked to the cat, who lazily blinked in response, as if confirming the claim.

“I didn’t do anything,” you whispered, your voice quiet again, unsure of how to proceed. You felt like you were losing your grip on the situation.

Remmick's lips quirked again, this time into something closer to a smile—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I didn’t say you did. But he’s... not as welcoming as you might think. Not for just anyone." There was a pause, his eyes still locked on yours. “But then, I suppose you’re not ‘just anyone,’ are you?”

You frowned, uncertain about his meaning. It felt as though he was dancing around something—something that wasn’t being said directly. You didn’t know what he was implying, but you didn’t like it.

“I should go,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your pulse was racing again, faster now, as the anxiety took hold of you.

You stepped back, but as you did, you didn’t notice your father’s coat slipping off your shoulders. The fabric fell silently to the floor with a soft rustle, the heavy weight of it landing unnoticed in the dim room. But Remmick didn’t mention it. He didn’t even look at it. His eyes remained focused on you, a faint amusement still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re in a hurry,” he remarked, his voice quieter now, as though speaking more to himself than to you.

There was something in his tone—something that made you hesitate at the door. You didn’t understand it, but it made you feel like you were doing the wrong thing. Like you were leaving something important behind.

Despite the uncertainty pulling at you, you couldn’t stay any longer. You couldn’t be there with him.

With a final, hurried glance, you turned and moved toward the door, the weight of his gaze following you.

And as you stepped outside, the chill of the evening air hit you, but it was nothing compared to the cold you felt from leaving the house behind.

You left hurriedly, footsteps light but quick, your heart racing as you told yourself to put more distance between yourself and the man who still watched from the shadows.

You kept your head low, your steps quick and purposeful as you moved farther from the house. The air outside, even though thick with the weight of the sky, felt cooler, as though it was offering you a bit of relief from the tense knot in your chest. You kept walking, not daring to look back, feeling the heavy silence hanging between you and the stranger that now occupied your thoughts.

But then, as you rounded the corner of the old church, you froze.

Your father stood there, stepping out from the broken doorway of the church. His broad shoulders filled the frame of the entrance, his dark coat swaying slightly in the evening breeze. The sight of him, solid and familiar, made the breath you were holding catch in your throat. For a moment, you simply stared at him—eyes wide, heart beating a little too fast.

He didn’t seem to notice your startled reaction, his brow furrowing as he took a few steps toward you. “What’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of concern, like he’d been looking for you.

You stood there, trying to steady yourself, but the encounter with Remmick was still fresh in your mind, the tension from the moment still clinging to your skin. You were out of breath—not from running, but from the panic, the unsettled feeling that you hadn’t been able to shake since you’d left that house. The weight of your father’s gaze made it harder to breathe.

“Just… just walked around,” you said, your voice soft but quick. It was a lie, but it was the only thing you could say that would make sense. You couldn't tell him what had really happened. You couldn’t explain the unease, the stranger, or the way that house felt too strange, too unfamiliar. You couldn’t risk him knowing.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment. “You’re out of breath,” he said, his voice still calm but with a flicker of worry in his eyes. “What’s going on, kid?”

You forced a smile, though it felt too tight, too practiced. You couldn't let him know the truth. You couldn’t tell him about the man you’d met, the way he'd spoken, the feeling that still lingered around you like smoke. You didn’t know what to think, what to believe, and you definitely didn’t want your father involved in any of it.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, adjusting the bow in your hand as if it were the source of your anxiety. You wanted to change the subject, to distract him from the flush in your cheeks, the strange pounding in your chest. “I just got a little... tired. The air here, I guess.”

Your father didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press further. His eyes softened, a gentle understanding there despite his earlier concern. “I say we head back,” he murmured, stepping closer to you, the warmth of his presence almost soothing after the cold encounter with Remmick. “Let’s head home before it gets more dark.”

You nodded, relief flooding your chest at the thought of leaving the strange town, the eerie church, and the unsettling man behind. You didn’t know what would happen if your father found out the truth. But you weren’t ready to let him see you unsettled, not when you couldn’t even explain it yourself.

“Okay,” you said, forcing a breath that felt too shaky. “Let’s go home.” Your father nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze as you turned to walk away together, toward the path leading back through the woods. But as you moved, your heart was still racing, still unsure of what you’d left behind in that old house, in the shadow of the church.

And the last thing you heard before the world closed back to normal was the soft purring of the cat in your mind, still echoing in the back of your thoughts.

You didn’t mean to come back. Not here, not now, and definitely not in this dress—the one you chose because it made you feel like you might be someone else entirely. Someone who belonged somewhere better. But the coat… the coat was a different story. Your father’s coat, left behind in that crumbling house you swore you’d never step foot in again. Somehow, the weight of forgetting it gnawed at you all afternoon, pulling you farther away from the path you’d promised to follow.

So you walked. Past the cracked sidewalks, the hollowed-out shops swallowed by vines and dust, your footsteps muffled by years of silence. The familiar comfort of the cat was gone, too—no soft meow or flickering tail to guide you this time. Instead, the air felt thick, heavy, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something.

You tried to ignore it, tried to convince yourself you just needed to grab the coat and leave. But every step forward twisted the knot in your stomach tighter, and the house at the end of the street looked less like a home and more like a grave.

You stopped just short of the porch, heart hammering in your chest, breath catching in your throat. The house was still—the broken windows like dark eyes watching you, the front door hanging slightly ajar as if inviting you in. You reached out to touch the chipped paint on the railing, your fingers trembling, the rough texture grounding you.

Then, faint but unmistakable, a sound—something wet and awful—slipped through the silence.

You froze, every nerve on fire. Your eyes flicked toward the side of the house, where the shadows pooled thick and black. You wanted to turn, to run away from whatever your mind was trying to imagine. But curiosity, cold and sharp, rooted you to the spot.

And then you saw him.

Remmick.

He was crouched low, his back bent over something—or someone—you couldn’t quite make out at first. The sickening sound grew louder, more desperate. A wet, tearing noise that didn’t belong in this quiet town.

You blinked, heart skidding to a stop as you realized the horror before you. He was biting, tearing at flesh with a brutal hunger that sent ice racing down your spine. The way his jaw moved was too fast, too mechanical—like a predator who had been waiting for this moment.

Your breath caught, lungs tightening. Panic surged, sharp and sudden, but your body refused to move. You pressed yourself tighter against the cold metal of the fence, trying to shrink into the shadows, praying he wouldn’t see you.

The figure beneath him writhed silently, muffled gasps barely audible over the pounding in your ears. You felt your skin crawl, your dress suddenly too thin, too fragile. The thought of your father’s coat, waiting inside, seemed almost laughable now.

Slowly, so slowly your legs felt like lead, you stepped back, every movement measured, careful. Your eyes never left Remmick, watching the way he tore into his victim with terrifying calm. You knew—knew—if he saw you, it would be the end of whatever sliver of safety you had left.

You swallowed hard, mouth dry, and inched backward, each step a silent prayer that you’d slip away unnoticed. The night pressed in around you, thick and suffocating, the town’s broken streets like a maze you had to navigate without making a sound.

You didn’t look back as you vanished down the cracked pavement, heart racing, breath ragged. The coat wasn’t worth it. Nothing was. Because some nightmares don’t stay hidden, and some truths are too terrible to face.

You left the house, the coat, and whatever dark hunger lived in that shadow behind you. And you ran.

You didn’t stop running until the trees thinned out and the old wooden gate at the edge of town creaked into view. Your breath tore from your lungs in ragged gasps, chest heaving beneath your bodice, sweat pooling beneath the collar of your dress. You could still hear it — that wet, awful noise — the slick sound of something being torn apart. His shoulders hunched low, jaw moving like a machine, blood pooling dark beneath him. You hadn’t meant to see it. You hadn’t even meant to stay long. Just the coat, and then gone.

But you’d seen him.

Remmick.

And now your legs were lead and your heart wouldn’t stop stammering and your stomach had curled so tight it hurt to breathe.

You stumbled past the last fence, up the dry path, across the patch of cracked ground that passed for a yard. The porch creaked as your foot hit the first step—and that was when the door opened.

Your father stepped out into the golden spill of lamplight. His shirt sleeves were rolled past his elbows, suspenders hanging slack against his hips, jaw clenched so tight it made the muscle twitch. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at you like he wasn’t sure you were real.

Then, flat and sharp as a whip crack. “Girl, where the hell’ve you been?”

You froze halfway up the steps, skirts clinging to your legs, breath too loud in your ears.

His voice dropped a little, quieter but heavier for it. “You leavin’ this house dressed like a bellflower and comin’ back lookin’ like you been chased through the woods by a pack o’ dogs.” He squinted, stepping closer. “And I been standin’ here goin’ half mad thinkin’ you were face-down in a ditch somewhere. You better start talkin’, and fast.”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out at first.

“I went for a jog,” you said, voice thin, too cheerful, far too late to be believable.

Your father blinked. “A jog,” he repeated, real slow, like he was testing the word out for the first time. “You went for a jog.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In a dress.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stared at you. “Since when do you jog?”

“Well,” you said, pausing like you had to think about it, “technically, I’d call it… brisk walking. With passion. Very determined walking.”

His brows drew together. “In shoes that ain’t meant for nothin’ but sittin’ pretty in church.”

“They held up,” you said, glancing down at them. “Mostly. One of ‘em squeaks now. Adds character.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even a twitch.

He folded his arms. “You been gone over an hour. You looked me square in the eye not five hours ago and said you were stayin’ in for the evening.”

“I was,” you said. “But then I remembered I needed the air. And then… well. The air just kept goin’.”

“You tryin’ to be clever with me?”

“No, sir,” you said, swallowing. “Just stupid.”

That cracked something in his face — not a smile, not quite, but something eased. Only a little. He shook his head, exhaling through his nose, stepping down to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. His voice dipped lower. “Listen to me now, and I mean it — if you saw anything unusual out there, you tell me. You understand?”

You met his eyes, barely.

“I’m serious, girl. I know this town. You think it’s dead, but it ain’t empty. You see somethin’ that don’t sit right, you come tell me. I ain’t askin’ for poetry. Just truth.”

You hesitated. He caught it.

“Don’t you lie to me now,” he said, quiet. “You ain’t got the stomach for it.”

You forced a breath through your teeth and gave a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Saw a squirrel,” you said, nodding like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Big one. Looked like he had a grudge.”

He squinted. “A squirrel.”

“Mean as sin.”

“A joggin’ squirrel with a bad attitude.”

“Out-of-towner,” you said. “Didn’t have the local manners.”

He closed his eyes for a second like he was praying for patience. You didn’t move.

When he looked at you again, the anger was still there, but something else had taken its place too — weariness, worry, that particular kind of fear only a parent carries.

He let out a breath. “Get inside,” he muttered. “Before I say somethin’ I can’t take back.” You nodded and followed him in, the screen door creaking shut behind you.

You didn’t mention Remmick. Didn’t mention the body. Didn’t mention the way something in your chest had twisted with a sick sort of grief — not just fear for your father, but fear for him, too. Like some small, foolish part of you didn’t want him to die, didn’t want your father to go hunt him down, even after what you’d seen.

That part stayed quiet.

You left your shoes by the door and your secrets on the porch.

The church was a cavern of shadows and silence beneath the thick night. Outside, the world was drowned in darkness, but inside, the flicker of moonlight threw kaleidoscopes of stained glass colors across the ancient wood and cracked stone floor. The air smelled faintly of old paper and cold stone, and a soft draft whispered through the cracks in the windows, carrying the faint rustle of leaves from the outside.

You knelt there, alone, in the vast quiet, the heavy wooden pew pressing against your knees. Your hands were clenched so tightly that your knuckles ached, fingers interwoven as though trying to hold yourself together. Your dress rustled faintly with every breath, the fabric cool and rough beneath your palms.

The weight of everything you’d kept inside—the lies, the shame, the fear—felt heavier in this place. The silence seemed to press in on you, demanding confession and penance, yet you found no relief. You whispered prayers—half-pleas, half-accusations—into the darkness, your voice so low it was almost swallowed by the stillness.

Forgive me, you breathed, cheeks burning in the moonlight. Forgive me for lying to him. Forgive me for the things I can’t say out loud. For the thoughts I hide.

For two weeks, the lie had settled like a stone in your gut, twisting tighter each day. You hadn’t meant to deceive your father, but the truth was a thing too wild and terrible to speak. You’d told him you went out for a jog—two weeks ago, almost like a casual thing—and ever since, the lie had clung to you like a shadow.

Your mind flickered with images you wished you could unsee. Nights spent tossed in restless sleep, chased through tangled woods by his dark silhouette. Dreams that shifted and morphed, sometimes terrifying, sometimes aching with a strange, unwelcome longing. The last few were the worst—dreams where you felt his hands on you, rough and sure, and you woke drenched in cold sweat, heart pounding like a trapped bird.

You forced your eyes closed, biting back the flood of shame. The quiet was all you wanted now. To be swallowed in the silence, far from the world and its cruelties.

Then came the knock. Three sharp, deliberate taps echoing off the cold stone walls and the wooden pews, breaking the stillness like a breath held too long. The sound made your skin prickle, but you didn’t move. You kept your eyes tightly shut, not daring to look behind you, as if turning around would summon whatever was waiting.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, knuckles white beneath the flickering candlelight. You murmured your prayers, voice low and steady, but the words tangled in your throat. The cold church air wrapped around you, settling heavy and thick, pressing down like a weight on your chest. Your heart hammered, a wild thing trapped beneath your ribs, pounding louder with every passing second.

“Come in,” you said quietly, barely more than a breath, but firm enough to will the door to open. You didn’t need to turn around to know it had. The air shifted suddenly, colder still, as though the shadows themselves had moved closer. You stayed where you were, knees pressed to the wooden floor, hands folded tight.

You tried to force your thoughts back to the prayer, tried to pour all your fear and shame into those quiet words, but your mind kept wandering—back to the things you’d seen, the lies you’d told your father, the guilt that burned deep inside. Your lips moved silently, but the faith you’d once felt seemed to slip away with every breath.

Then, something settled beside you. It was a presence you could feel more than see—a heavy weight in the pew, a warmth that didn’t belong in this cold, empty place. Your body stiffened, muscles tensing as if to flee, but you stayed rooted to the spot, frozen by something you couldn’t explain.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to. Your eyes stayed closed, the candlelight flickering softly against your lashes. Your breath hitched and caught, mouth suddenly dry and thick with the taste of iron and fear.

The weight beside you shifted slightly, just enough for you to feel the heat of a gaze burning through you—intense, sharp, impossible to ignore. It was as if the very air pressed closer to your skin, the silence stretched taut around your beating heart.

Slowly, reluctantly, you cracked open your eyes, blinking against the darkness, and turned your head just enough to see him.

There he was—Remmick. Sitting beside you in the dim, quiet church, calm and still, watching.

His eyes caught the faint glow of candlelight, dark and unyielding, steady and cold. The hard planes of his face were sharp against the soft shadows, lips pressed into a thin line that held no hint of warmth or welcome.

Your heart stuttered. Every part of you screamed to get up, to run, but your limbs felt like they’d been turned to stone. Fear, shame, confusion, and something deeper twisted in your gut. You hadn’t wanted to see him again, not like this, not alone in the quiet hours when no one else was around.

You thought you were safe here. You thought you were alone.

But that look in his eyes told you otherwise.

You jerked upright so fast it was like the floor beneath you had shifted, and your eyes snapped open wide, shining bright in the dim candlelight. Your breath hitched sharply, and you stumbled backward, the rough wood scraping under your skirts. Your fingers curled tight around the edge of the pew for balance, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. The chill in the church seemed to press down harder, filling your lungs with cold, stale air that tasted faintly of dust and old prayers.

You could feel him moving beside you, rising from the pew with a slow, deliberate grace that made every hair on your skin stand on end. His silhouette stretched tall in the flickering light, the faint glow catching on the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that twisted like dark secrets. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not yet—because even in the quiet, you could sense the weight of his gaze, like a coal burning straight through the fog of your panic.

When his voice finally broke the silence, it was low and smooth, carrying a drawl thick as molasses but laced with something colder than the night outside. “You done forgot your coat,” he said, slow and steady, his words falling like heavy drops. “The one you come back lookin’ for… 'bout two weeks ago now.”

Your throat tightened, your pulse pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, but it came out a breathless whisper, “I… I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Your eyes flicked away, desperate to find safety in the flicker of candlelight rather than the unblinking dark of his stare.

But he didn’t shift or blink. His gaze stayed pinned on you like iron hooks. “Don’t waste breath on lies,” he said, voice low, almost amused in a way that made your skin crawl. “I seen what you saw. That night. You thought you could slip away without me knowin’, but I know.” The quiet in the church grew heavier, as if his words themselves pulled the shadows closer around you.

You felt the cold seep deeper into your bones. There was no room for denial here—not anymore. The memory of that terrible sight, the awful, wet sounds, the raw hunger in his movements—it rose up like a sickness in your chest. Your lips trembled, but no sound came. You wanted to scream, to run, but the floorboards beneath you felt rooted, as if they’d grown roots and tangled around your feet.

He took a step closer, slow and purposeful, the faint creak of the pew under his weight breaking the silence. The air seemed to grow colder still, the candle flame flickering in protest. “You thought you was safe,” he murmured, the drawl thickening with a dangerous edge. “Thought I wouldn’t notice you there, watchin’, hidin’ behind that trembling heart of yours.” His eyes glinted in the dim light, dark and sharp, watching every flicker of fear, every faltering breath.

Your whole body trembled now, a mix of terror and something else—a strange, unwelcome pull you couldn’t explain. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to turn and run from this dark truth you’d buried so deep. But the weight of his gaze was a chain, binding you to the spot, freezing the air between you both.

“You ain’t safe,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper that wrapped itself around your skin like a cold wind. “Not in this town. Not anywhere close to me.”

The candle flame sputtered, casting long, crawling shadows that seemed to reach for you. You swallowed again, mouth dry and thick with the taste of fear. His presence filled the space, heavy and dark, and in that moment you knew you weren’t just a frightened girl hiding in an empty church—you were someone caught in the quiet hunger of something far older and colder than you ever dared imagine.

You stared at him, disbelief and fear twisting your stomach into tight knots. “You’ve been watchin’ me?” Your voice cracked, sharp with both defiance and disbelief. “My daddy’d have your head for what you are if I told him a single word.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and raw. Your eyes narrowed, daring him to laugh it off, or deny it. You weren’t sure which reaction would scare you more.

And then he did laugh—slow, dark, like a low rumble rolling through the cold church. It wasn’t the warm laughter of a friend or lover, but something colder, sharper, edged with something dangerous.

“Your daddy’s got no idea what’s been prowlin’ round these parts,” he said, voice thick with that drawl, the words slow and deliberate. “I been near enough to hear you when your windows are cracked open at night.” He took a step closer, the floorboards groaning beneath him, his presence swallowing the space between you. “When you think you’re safe and alone, moanin’ my name like you’re callin’ for salvation. When you clench your thighs tight, fightin’ somethin’ you don’t wanna admit… You reckon I don’t see all that from the shadows?”

Your breath caught—sharp, quick, trembling. You wanted to pull away, to slam the heavy wooden doors of the church behind him and lock yourself inside forever. But something in the way he spoke, like he knew every secret you hid from the world, made your skin crawl and your heart ache in ways you couldn’t understand.

“No,” you whispered, voice barely steady. “No, I ain’t like that.” But the words felt hollow even as they left your lips.

He smiled again, slow and crooked, eyes dark and unblinking. “You don’t get to lie to yourself, darlin’. Not when you’re lookin’ like that.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, thick with meaning you dared not unravel. “I been watchin’, waitin’—knowin’ you ain’t just scared of me, but what I am. What you could be, if you dared to let it in.”

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across his face—half in darkness, half in light. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the quiet promise of something wild and dangerous lurking just beneath that calm surface. Your body trembled, torn between fear and a strange, aching pull you refused to name.

“Don’t tell me you think you’re safe from me,” he murmured, voice like velvet dipped in ice. “Not here, not now, not ever.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it. You wanted to scream, to run, to beg him to leave—but your feet felt rooted to the floor, your voice caught in a web of shame and terror and something you couldn’t quite grasp.

“I haven’t told a soul,” you said finally, voice breaking. “I swear on everything… I won’t.”

He leaned in closer, breath warm against your cheek. “I know.” His words were a quiet promise and a warning all at once. “And I ain’t lettin’ you hide no more.”

You stood frozen, lips parted like you might deny him again, but no sound came. There was something in his voice—low and rough, like gravel dragged slow across velvet—that rooted you there, spine locked, breath shallow.

Behind you, the air thickened. His presence coiled close, just shy of touching, but you could feel it all the same—heat, breath, the heavy pull of him. Every inch of you was trembling, not from cold, but from the unbearable awareness of how close he was. How your body reacted before your mind could protest.

Your eyes stayed locked on the altar ahead, flickering candlelight casting its glow like some holy warning. But you weren’t thinking about prayer anymore.

“You can’t show up like this,” you whispered, though your voice sounded weak even to your own ears. “This place ain’t for you.”

He laughed, soft and mean, like he knew the lie behind your words better than you did. “This place?” he echoed, stepping forward. “This place was built for sinners, darlin’. Not saints. And I ain’t the only one crawlin’ in here needin’ forgiveness.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn't. The scent of him—earth, smoke, iron—slipped into your lungs like sin made breathable.

“You think hidin’ in a church makes you clean?” he murmured, close now, his breath grazing your jaw, making you flinch like you’d been branded. “You think kneelin’ in the dark makes you innocent?”

“I am innocent,” you hissed, though your voice wavered, and your pulse betrayed you—hammering against your throat like a warning bell.

“You were,” he said, and that one word cracked something inside you. “Till you saw what you saw. Till you watched me tear that being apart and didn’t run. Till you started dreamin’ about me.”

Your breath caught. You hated that he was right.

“I didn’t mean to—” you started, but his gaze pinned you before you could finish.

“You did.” He tilted his head, eyes dragging down your throat, over your shaking hands. “Some part of you wanted to. Still does.”

You hated the heat blooming beneath your skin, hated the way your legs felt unsteady. But most of all, you hated how your body leaned toward him—despite everything, because of everything.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered, not sure who you were begging—him, or yourself.

“Like what?” he said, voice low, amused. “Like you’re mine?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if darkness could keep him out. But his words pressed deeper, slipping under your skin, planting roots in the soft, secret places you never let anyone touch.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he said, voice gentler now, though it still held that dangerous edge. “Not unless you ask me to.”

And somehow that was worse.

Because you didn’t trust yourself not to ask.

Not with the way your heart was thudding. Not with the heat pooling in your stomach. Not with the hunger he spoke of—your hunger—burning just beneath your skin.

You opened your mouth, but no prayer came.

Never in a million years would you have believed this—him—could take root inside you. That in just a few weeks’ time, you’d be sleeping beside the man who haunted your dreams. That you'd be living for him. Breathing for him.

And the worst part?

You wouldn't even regret it.

You’ve been doing this for months now—slipping away just as the last light dies, sneaking behind your daddy’s back through the gnarly woods that reek of rot and damp earth. The trees close in tight, branches clawing at your skin and clothes like they’re warning you to turn back. It’s scary, sure—but there’s a thrill too, knowing on the other side of those twisted paths waits Remmick.

Now, you’re here with him. His hands are firm on your skin, pulling you close, but your mind drifts away—back to the woods, to the creaking floorboards at home, to the lie you’re living. You think about how long you’ve been sneaking out, how your daddy probably has no idea where you vanish each night. How reckless you’ve been.

The quiet between you hums with something sharp and urgent, but it’s easy to get lost in your own head. Then, just as you start to slip away into your thoughts again, Remmick’s hand lands with a soft slap on your hip—a reminder. The moment snaps back, and it’s only you and him, right here, right now.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb stroking the curve of your jaw, forcing you to meet his dark, intense gaze. "Eyes on me, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrates through your very core. "Focus on me only."

He waits until your gaze is fully locked on his, until the swirling thoughts of home and deceit seem to momentarily recede from your eyes. Only then does he resume the deliberate thrusts that have your body aching and your breath catching in your throat. The sheets beneath you bunch and twist with your movements, the only sound besides your ragged breaths and his low grunts of satisfaction.

His other hand snakes down, his fingers tracing the slick heat between your legs, teasing and tormenting until a whimper escapes your lips. He watches your reaction, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he continues his slow, agonizing pace. You try to focus on the sensation, on the way his body fills yours, on the raw, undeniable pleasure that threatens to consume you.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Forget everything else," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "There's only this." And then his teeth graze your neck, sending a jolt of pure sensation through you, momentarily eclipsing the guilt that gnaws at the edges of your desire.

The graze of his teeth sharpens, becoming a deliberate nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. He lingers there, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, before his mouth trails lower, leaving a wet path down the curve of your neck towards your collarbone. You arch beneath him, your hands clutching at his shoulders, the need building with each slow, deliberate movement of his hips.

His fingers, still slick with your arousal, delve deeper, finding the most sensitive nub and stroking it with a practiced rhythm that sends shivers of pure sensation through you. You cry out, your head thrashing against the pillow, the carefully constructed walls of your control beginning to crumble.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with lust. "Feel it. Feel only this."

He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, more insistent. You meet his gaze, your eyes glazed with desire, and see the raw hunger mirrored in his. There's a primal intensity in his movements, a possessiveness that borders on brutal, and yet… it ignites a fire within you that you never knew existed.

His mouth returns to yours, his kiss a savage claiming. His tongue plunges deep, mirroring the insistent rhythm of his body inside you. You taste him, wild and untamed, and the guilt that usually gnaws at you is momentarily drowned out by the overwhelming tide of sensation.

He shifts, his hands sliding beneath your hips, lifting you to meet his thrusts with a deeper, more visceral connection. You can feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your core, each stroke sending waves of heat radiating through your body. You cry out again, your voice raw with need, the sound swallowed by his hungry kiss.

The tension coils tighter and tighter within you, a frantic knot of pleasure that threatens to unravel completely. You cling to him, your body slick with sweat, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his skin against yours, the scent of his arousal, the taste of his kiss.

He senses your release, his movements becoming more urgent, more frantic. He whispers your name, a rough, guttural sound that echoes the primal rhythm of your bodies entwined. And then, the world explodes. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washes over you, shattering the last vestiges of your control. You cry out, your body shuddering around his, your senses consumed by the intense release.

He holds you tight, his body shuddering against yours as he follows you over the edge. You cling to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, the only sound in the dimly lit shack the frantic beating of your hearts.

His arms are still around you, holding you close in the low light of his bedroom. The sheets are tangled beneath you, and the air is thick with heat and something softer, quieter now. You listen to his breathing — heavy, slowing — the sound of it filling the room like a storm that just passed.

Your body’s still humming, but your mind’s already slipping away.

The bed creaks faintly as he shifts, pulling you tighter, like he can feel the distance in you. His skin is warm against yours, his fingers tracing lazy lines along your spine. But your thoughts drift — to the woods, to the way your boots scraped over roots and leaves as you ran here, the light almost gone. To your daddy, sitting in his chair back home, probably still waiting up with that quiet knowing look he wears when he doesn’t say a word but feels everything.

Remmick presses a kiss to your shoulder, then higher, along the curve of your neck. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into it either.

He feels it. You know he does.

“You good?” he asks, voice low against your skin.

You nod, slow. “Yeah.”

But you aren’t.

He waits a beat. Then, when you don’t say more, he brings his hand up and gives you a soft, playful slap on the cheek — enough to snap your attention back to him, to now. His eyes catch yours, unreadable in the dimness.

“Stay with me,” he says.

You swallow and try to smile, but the woods are still in your head. And your daddy’s voice, the one that never needed to be loud to make you feel small, echoes somewhere just beneath your ribs.

His arms are still wrapped around you when the silence starts to press in. The room is steeped in night — heavy curtains drawn, the only light a sliver of moon cutting across the warped floorboards. The heat between your bodies is starting to fade, leaving behind the stickiness of sweat, of blood, of breathless gasps swallowed in secret.

You shift against him, slow and quiet, but his grip doesn’t loosen. Not at first. When it finally does, it’s reluctant. A release not given, but tolerated.

You slip from the bed like a girl sneaking from a coffin, dragging the sheet up with you, wrapping it tight around your body even though there’s no real modesty left between you. You don’t speak. You never do, after.

Your bare feet hit the cold floor. The old wood moans beneath you, and you flinch — not from the sound, but from knowing he’s still watching. You can feel it. That gaze. Heavy. Burning.

Behind you, Remmick shifts. The bed creaks under his weight, the mattress sighing like it’s tired of holding him. You hear the soft, deliberate slide of him dressing — pants first, then the worn leather belt. He moves slow, like he’s buying time. Or maybe savoring it. Savoring you.

You crouch to find your drawers where they were kicked away earlier, near the leg of the nightstand. You bend to pick them up, and that’s when his voice breaks the silence — soft, feeling like something dead whispering in your ear. “Why d’you always run from me after?”

You don’t answer. You pull on your drawers and reach for your shift, laid over the back of the chair like it’s waiting to judge you.

He stands behind you now. You don’t need to turn — the weight of him is all around, like fog off the graveyard, clinging to skin and bone. You try not to look at the mirror on the wall, cracked at the edges. He never casts back.

“You think I don’t see how you look at me?” he says, closer now, his breath brushing the damp skin of your neck. “Like you hate yourself for wantin’ me. Like you’re scared of what I am but keep comin’ back anyway.”

You button your dress with trembling fingers, your throat dry. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. But you can feel the way he wants to.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice stays soft — too soft. “I ain’t just fuckin’ you. I’m keepin’ you. Bit by bit. Night after night. You can lie to your daddy all you want, pretend you’re still his good girl, but you’re mine now. In ways you don’t even understand yet.”

You finally turn. He’s standing just behind you, shirtless still, his pants slung low on his hips, the belt hanging undone like a threat. His eyes gleam in the low light — not red, not glowing. Just wrong. Too deep, too black, like something ancient lives behind them.

“I let you leave,” he says, almost tender. “Ain’t that sweet of me? You walk back through them woods every night, thinkin’ you got a choice. Thinkin’ you’re strong enough to stay away. But you always come back.”

You swallow. “This isn’t—”

He cuts you off by stepping closer, forcing your back against the wall with nothing more than his presence. His hand lifts, slow, and he cups your cheek like he’s handling a vintage doll, his thumb stroking just under your eye.

“You think I couldn’t keep you here?” he whispers. “You think I ain’t strong enough to drag you down into the root cellar and bolt the door shut and keep you there ‘til you beg me to never let you leave again?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, breath shaking in your chest.

“But I don’t,” he says, voice almost sad. “Because I want you to choose me. I want you to wake up in your daddy’s house with his prayers in your ears and still feel me inside you. I want you sittin’ at his Sunday table with me dripping down between your legs and my name caught in your throat.”

The room is silent again. Still.

Then, slowly, his expression darkens. Shifts.

“You smell like runnin’,” he says, the words curling out of his mouth like smoke. “Like you’re thinkin’ of leavin’ and never comin’ back.”

You don’t speak. You can’t.

He leans in, mouth at your ear. “You do that, and I will come for you. I’ll drag you from your daddy’s arms and make you watch me bleed him dry. I’ll leave his body hangin’ from the church steeple and put a ring on your finger before the sun rises.”

You’re shaking now, tears caught at the corners of your eyes — not from fear. Not just from fear.

Because you know something awful and true. Part of you wants him to. Part of you wants to stop pretending.

You gather your things with slow, shaking hands and back toward the door. He doesn’t follow. Just stands there, watching, always watching.

And as you slip out into the cold, moon-bitten dark — the wind carrying the smell of moss and smoke and something rotting deep in the trees — you already know you’ll come back.

Because you’re his. Even if you hate it. Even if it kills you.

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known when your monthly didn’t come — not the first time, and not the second. Nearly two full moons passed now, and still no blood. Nothing but that hollow, twisting ache deep in your belly. Like your body’s been holding its breath, waiting to tell you what your heart already knows.

You’ve been late before. Once. Maybe twice. But never like this. Not with the way your stomach turns every morning before the sun even breaks, your head light, mouth full of spit and nothing sweet. You wake up gagging some days, clutching your chest like that’ll keep the sickness down.

At first you told yourself it was nerves — the stress of sneaking through those woods, lying to your daddy, the weight of Remmick’s hands and his words clinging to your skin long after you left his bed.

But now? Now there’s no more lying. Not to yourself.

You stand hunched over the basin, breath shallow, eyes hollow in the chipped little mirror above the washstand. Your nightgown clings to your back with sweat, and your hair sticks to your neck from tossing all night, dreaming of hands and teeth and things growing where they shouldn’t.

You press a hand low over your stomach. There’s no bump. Not yet. But it don’t matter. You feel it.

Something’s wrong inside you. Or something’s already taken root.

Your chest tightens. It ain’t just a bastard child. It’s his. Remmick’s. A vampire’s. And your daddy… your daddy would kill you for this. No. He’d kill him. Then you. Maybe not in that order.

You turn away from the mirror, eyes burning. You shouldn’t have kept going back. Should’ve stopped the first time, when his mouth was on your neck and your heart was screaming louder than your breath. But he touched you like he’d die without it. Like you were something sacred and spoiled all at once. And every time you swore it was the last, you found yourself running through those trees again — like you were bewitched.

Maybe you were.

Outside your door, the floor creaks. You freeze.

Your daddy’s up. You can smell the smoke from his pipe — cloves and ash, bitter and thick. The sound of the front room chair groaning under his weight follows, slow and familiar. You know he’s just sitting there, listening, like he always does. Waiting for lies he won’t ask for but will see plain on your face.

You swallow hard. Because you ain’t no maiden anymore— that was certain months ago. And now something unnatural is growing in your belly.

Two weeks after, you left the house like usual.

No dinner, no goodnight. Just the click of the back door easing shut behind you and your boots moving fast across the dirt, swallowing the woods whole with each breathless step. You hadn’t seen Remmick in almost two weeks. Not really. You’d drawn the curtains tight, bolted the windows, let candle stubs burn down to nubs just to avoid the faintest flicker of him finding a way in.

You’d avoided even thinking about him.

But the sickness in the mornings wouldn’t stop. The twisting in your stomach. The missing blood. You counted the days again and again like beads on a rosary, praying they’d add up to anything else. But they never did. Every calculation pointed to the same answer.

And it was his.

You clutched your coat tighter around you as the trees pulled in close, your breath fogging the cold, damp air. The woods felt different tonight—watchful, almost. Like the trees themselves knew something was coming.

His house came into view through the dark. Same as always—crooked chimney, shuttered windows, ivy strangling the porch. You ran to it like something was chasing you.

You didn’t knock. Just pushed the door open and stumbled inside.

He was sitting in that old armchair near the fire, the light casting long shadows across his face. He didn’t look surprised to see you.

His eyes flicked up. That same bottomless black.

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” he said, voice slow and syrup-thick. “Thought maybe you were tryin’ to pretend I was just a fever dream.” You didn’t speak at first. Your hands shook as you closed the door behind you, heart pounding so loud it hurt.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The words dropped like lead. No soft preamble. No hesitation. Remmick didn’t move. Not for a long moment.

Then he stood. It was slow. Precise. Like a predator uncoiling.

He stepped toward you, each step so quiet it didn’t feel real. And when he reached you, he didn’t touch you right away. Just stood close enough that his presence swallowed you whole.

His eyes searched yours, and something behind them shifted. Something deep and furious and holy in its devotion. “You’re carryin’ my child,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded. Barely.

His hand rose to cup your face, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “You came all this way to tell me?”

You pulled your face back. “I don’t want it.”

The room went still.

The warmth bled out of the fire. The shadows deepened.

“What?” he said, voice a low rasp.

“I can’t—Remmick, I can’t have this baby. I can’t raise a vampire’s child while livin’ under my daddy’s roof. He’ll know. He’ll—he’ll kill me. He’ll kill you.”

Something inside him snapped.

His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to scare. Enough to remind you what he was.

“You think I’d let that old bastard lay a hand on you?” he hissed, the softness gone now. “You think I’d let anyone touch you or what’s mine?”

You shook your head, tears burning hot behind your eyes. “Please, just listen—”

“No,” he said, louder. “You listen.”

He turned away, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to hold himself together.

“You came to me,” he muttered. “All them nights, you came to me. I didn’t force you. I didn’t take nothin’ that wasn’t offered. And now you wanna act like this baby is some kinda mistake?”

He looked back at you, something wild behind his eyes now.

“I should drag you back to that cellar and keep you there ‘til this child’s born. You think I wouldn’t? You think I won’t?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He stepped forward again, slow and furious.

“You love your daddy?” he asked, voice dangerous and low.

Your eyes widened. “Remmick—”

“I said, do you love him?”

You nodded, shaking. “Yes. Please don’t—”

“Then you’ll keep this baby,” he said, final. “You’ll carry it. You’ll bring it into this world. Or I will put him in the ground and make you watch me do it.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks now, silent and fast.

He moved close again, gentling for the first time in minutes. His hand came back to your face, his thumb wiping a tear. “You don’t gotta be scared of me, sugar. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect our child. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt either of you. Not while I’m breathin’.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

You were trapped between the life you’d always known and the dark, magnetic force of him—a thing that was never fully alive, but more real than anything else you’d ever touched.

Remmick pulled you to him and held you there, your face pressed against his chest, his voice like a curse whispered in prayer.

“You’re mine,” he said. “And now they’ll all know it.”

And as the fire popped low behind you and the trees howled just outside the walls, you knew—one way or another, you weren’t leaving this.

Not anymore.

[janumun]

Misty Affections [The L&DS Boys - NSFW]

Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️ (Take note of all warnings before you proceed) Pairings: L&DS Men/Reader Word Count: 6k+

Tags: polyandry/polygamy, bath/shower friskiness, multiple orgasms, oral, anal and vaginal sex, body worship, porn with little plot, double penetration, consensual somnophilia, edging, passing hints of breeding, scent kink

Summary: At the eve of your anniversary, you let the men, most precious to your heart, show you exactly how they love and cherish you. Slow and measured. Piece by piece.

Author’s Notes: I have been driven so insane ever since the drop of that crazy trailer, all I’ve been able to fantasize about are these beautiful men. Did so individually at first before they eventually converged within my mind into this behemoth romantic-sexy fest. (If you know me or my stories, you know I cannot go a second breathing without a little love in my sex LOL) 

This one’s for all my harem loving folks who’ve been left thirsty after the “Misty Invasions” trailer. Happy reading!

You oscillate at the entrance to the penthouse suite, fingers tracing the sleek outline of the key card your boyfriend had provided you with, earlier; eager gaze skittering back towards the door. Heart within your throat and a swarm of butterflies flittering within the base of your stomach.  

An entire year had passed you by; the day of your relationship anniversary upon you now. And you’d decided amongst you, in distinct words and heated whispers, that you’d make it a day well worth commemorating.  

You smile at the recollection of Sylus’ amused gaze — blood-red garnet — as it had met your surprised one, a few days prior. He’d had you search up his entire house for an elusive Mephisto, on the pretence of having lost sight of him. Finding him at last, perched atop the silken pillows of his bed. And held within his beak, a sleek black card the bird had let drop into your palm, obedient, before taking flight.  

A key access to the penthouse suite of one of the most luxurious hotels in Linkon City.  

Sylus had tugged you close — his warm breath, a sweet caress against the shell of your ear — stating the date and time for you to be there, without questions asked. Your heart had thrilled at the time in nervous anticipation.  

Just as it does now as you move to hoist your umbrella — damp still from the outpour outside — onto your arm, clutching a bouquet of flowers close to your chest.  

Reaching to swipe your card, at long last, against the room’s digital pad—  

Before the door sways open on its own. Your gaze skipping, immediate, to meet the owner’s: scarlet, warm in amused affection. “How much longer were you planning to dither at the door?” His hand curves about yours as he steers you inside. Reaching to help you out with your coat and umbrella.  

“How did you even—”  

Sylus angles his face in mute indication, at the door, just in time for you to catch sight of Mephisto sweeping across the hallway, disappearing just as swift around a corner, with a triumphant crow. 

“I am going to cook that bird one of these days,” you mutter, discomfited at the thought of Sylus having been standing privy to your entire vacillation session outside. 

A large hand curls about your jaw, insisting your gaze upwards, just as you feel the heat of Sylus’ mouth on yours. “Don’t fret any longer,” his lips brushing each word right against yours. Every stroke tending sparks of fire against your skin. “you’ll make me want to tease you. And I promised them I’d be kind to you today.” The thick baritone of his quiet laughter sinks, hot, into your chest; down into the depths of your belly.  

Your hand curves about the back of his neck, heaving that infuriating mouth back against yours. “Please do be quiet for once.” Fingers grazing at the base of his hair before they card upwards, tugging at the strands.  

His mouth pulls into a wider smile, just as you all but force the large bouquet of flowers you still carry, against the firm expanse of his chest.  

“Happy anniversary, Sylus.” You murmur softly, flushed gaze fixated upon the flowers — snowdrops and lilies, roses and clematis — a representation of each of their colours that had painted your life brighter, over the course of your years together. You truly hoped your boyfriends would love them.  

Garnet gaze narrowing in quiet affection, Sylus coaxes your attentions back to him with a call of your name. “And to you.”  

“Now,” He winds an arm about your waist, dragging you flush against his torso. “let me find a place for these beauties while you go hop into the shower. You’re cold to the touch.” And when you move to protest, he silences it with a delicate brush of his thumb against your lip before he too bows forwards, to murmur, just shy of your mouth. “I promise you won’t miss me long, sweetheart.” 

Leaving you in the stewing solace of your own indecent thoughts. 

Your relieved exhale breaks in soft wisps of white curling into the air, well comforted by the heat of your quick shower. Your eyes drifting absently towards the bath you’d drawn, your favourite scent now permeating the space of your bathroom. 

Petals rippling across the surface of placid warm waters; you knew how your artist appreciated the romanticism of your relationship. When you let yourself go and allowed yourself free expression of your adoration, for your Lemurian beloved. The colour, it never failed to bring flush to his cheeks at your simple gestures of affection, he so deserved. He had waited, and for so long.  

A mere speck of his patience, against your current restless wait, ever since his message had lighted your screen earlier this evening, indicating he’d be there to join you, soon.  

Sooner, you whisper into the air, slinking a cautious hand down the line of your stomach and towards your mound.  

It was so incredibly difficult to have all your lovers, gathered together in one place, owing to how busy each of you were with your respective schedules. Tonight, hence, was a rare, precious occasion and you intended to make the most of it.  

“Why so distracted.” A deep voice resonates at your back; a swift curl of pulsating red capturing your wrist before your fingers have the chance to brush in between your legs. Heaving your wrist up and back, depositing it prisoner into Sylus’ waiting palm. “You barely noticed me.” The roughened pads of his digits graze at the tender skin of your wrist in soft warning, before he lets go. “Couldn’t wait even a moment for me, huh?” 

You turn to face him, a puckish smile you know is already teasing at the corners of your mouth. “Just engaging in some personal time.” 

Sylus stands before you, body bare, save for the towel that keeps him from you, wrapped about his waist. A sturdy arm reaches past your shoulder, turning the shower off. Motions entirely unhurried. Deceptively tranquil, you do not miss the blood-red heat that simmers at the edges of that observing gaze.  

“Oh?” He crowds you a step closer into the wall. Your fingers coast in tense anticipation about the knot of his towel. “You wouldn’t mind if I turned that into a private time for two, would you, kitten?” 

You put on a deliberate show of pondering the question; a patient raised brow your lover keeps focused upon you. 

Until you tip a coquettish gaze his way and answer. “I suppose I would no—” Your response, Sylus pilfers from your tongue before you can utter it, pulsing a quick kiss of violence against your lips. 

Your digits impatiently work to release him from the final confines of his towel, absently tossing it aside. And onto the gnarled vines of red lurking at the edges of your vision, immediately reach to snatch up the cloth, discarding it into a wash bin close by.  

Laughter in between heavy breaths; coveting fingers, free at last, skate down the strength of his thighs, skimming past his stiff arousal. A small gasp of appreciation you break against his mouth just as Sylus lurches his hips forward, once, into your grasp to better let you admire the effect you have on him.  

“It’s been too long.” you murmur into the space he spares you in between wet kisses. 

“Darling,” he exhales; a small, rough sound of pleasure. “Not yet.”  

Sylus’ hands stir down the length of your body, fingers finding target, and pulsing into the soft of your ass before you can try and bribe your case with him, to give you what you want. Hefting you up entirely onto the corded strength of his arms, stifling your sound of surprise against his mouth. 

He bids you wrap your legs about his waist, as he walks you both over towards the luxurious bath. “Now,” Settling down into the warm, scented water, he eases you back against himself. “Let us get you washed properly.”  

You eventually relent and let him do as he pleases for the next several minutes. 

Drifting a careful hand about the expanse of your legs, you try not to squirm too much when that devious hand skirts about your inner thighs. Across the arc of your clavicle, down the slope of your breastbone. His palms bear down against your abdomen in provocative press-release motions. You're not quite sure what kind of bathing Sylus assumes he’s doing except just keying you higher, the longer you endure his hands upon you.  

Hands that grow unrepentant and bold with time, the self-pleased skew of those infuriating lips following soon after, down the slope of your neck, along the curve of your shoulder. You tip your face sideways, smoothing a quick kiss onto his jaw. “You keep this up any longer and you’re going to have an incredibly frustrated woman on your hands.” 

He buries his grin into your shoulder.  

“And I’m not sure what I’ll do then.” you threaten mildly.  

“Is that so? I’d certainly like to see you try.” He accepts your provocation.  

You reach an arm up, winding it about his neck. Fingers splaying against the damp brush of his hair as you angle your head up and he obliges, head canting for your mouth to catch against his. His tongue sweeps against yours in immediate insistence, your eager allowance in the slack fall of your mouth as he presses into you.  

Sylus’ indolent digits change tune then; a large palm he curves about the weight of your breast and squeezes. The roughened pads of them toying at the pert apex, until he coaxes your moans out for himself.  

The muted click of a lock sounds within your surroundings; quiet, save for the gentle ripples of water and your damp sounds of pleasure.  

“Ah,” Sylus murmurs in between kisses. “He’s here now. We would’ve ended up using the little princeling’s entire bath for ourselves if he’d turned up any later.” 

A thrill of pleasure and adoring desire crests itself within your chest, calling your approaching beloved’s name on a long sigh of pleasure Sylus wrenches out of you. “That’s it, sweetheart, tempt him on higher sounds next.” 

Restless within his lap, you wrench your mouth away from his, raising yourself onto your knees to turn, capturing him in between your thighs. 

Just as Rafayel steps past the threshold of the baths, appearing to be in the midst of wresting himself out a long sodden shirt. You absently muse how he must’ve forgotten to carry an umbrella with him, yet again, out on one of his painting expeditions, despite your reminder to him just last night. “It’s pouring crazy out there and I’m drenched to the bone—”  

His words nicked mid-sentence with the slow rise of those bluish-florid eyes — taking in the lascivious scene in front — along with your thoughts torn into jagged shards of pleasure with the firm catch of Sylus’ teeth against your breast. A large hand he splays at your back, enticing you closer into his mouth. 

Your eyes, refusing to stray from Rafayel’s, even as he remains rooted to the threshold. A flush beginning to colour against the arch of his cheeks to witness how Sylus augments your pleasure further underneath his enraptured gaze. 

Pleased joy ripples through you, to be putting on a tantalising show for your beloved Lemurian, entreating him closer on soft sighs and broken moans of his name.  

“Please,” your next gasp of pleasure scatters under the prick of stimulated tears. “Rafayel, my heart, come to me.” 

And like a beautiful marionette pulled upon by its strings, he obeys your request, striding towards the two of you. Bestowing mercy upon your poor heart, you feel, could pound right out of your chest.  

He tips downwards, long, graceful digits sweeping delicate beneath the cut of your jaw to raise. Brushing a sweet kiss of greeting against your mouth. “I’m here, beloved.” 

Fingers refusing to cease his exploratory touches, his thumb glides past your cheeks, dusting right beneath your eyes at stray tears.  

“Welcome home,” you greet, your own fingers curving about his jaw in hazy affection.  

“You’re late,” Sylus speaks, his hand trekking a careful path about the flare of your hip.  

Rafayel frowns at that. “I know. Not like I didn’t try to be here sooner.” Fingers tinkering at his belt buckle before he slides it, smooth out of its confines. Your eager hands reaching to assist, rushing down the line of buttons at his shirt, divesting him of his impediments.  

“You’re freezing, Rafayel.” You observe, palms pressed up against his naked abdomen. 

He catches one of your hands within his, feathering a kiss onto your knuckles. “Warm me, then.” An irrefutable instruction as much as it is his soft request.  

Relieved entirely of his clothes, he steps into the bath, fingers entwining against yours in a firm hold, coaxing you onto his body instead.  

“You're so cosy.” He appreciates in between hungering kisses. “Share more of your heat with me.” The soft squish of your breasts mould against the solid expanse of his chest the deeper you try and press against the other, your arms encased about his neck, fingers carding greedily through the wet strands of his hair.  

Rafayel shifts your positions, guiding you back against Sylus’ chest by your threaded digits. The hard heat of Sylus’ cock presses against the cleft of your ass as Rafayel drives you further in by the urgency of his kisses. 

His bond shimmers to life — a scarlet vow — right above his heart, your own thrilled by the rapidly dissipating chill of his body, replaced with passionate warmth. 

“I’ve missed you.” He drags your intertwined digits closer, directing your hand to press against the thrumming of his heart. “And especially today, being so important. I wanted to be next to you for the entirety of it.” 

Rafayel’s eyes, misted in desire and affection so acute, your breath catches at your throat at the sheer intensity of it. He secretes a gentle kiss into the fold of your palm. “I want us to make this a memorable anniversary.” 

“You already are.” You keen softly, in assurance, fingers stroking down the length of Sylus’ thigh. “I desire you both so very much right now.”

He returns your fervent regard in the thick digits that skim past the curve of your spine, fingering in sparing strokes at the rim of your ass. You gasp at the sensation, body clenching in on the emptiness it has long been subjected to. 

You need them both; the carnal strength of your want winds you breathless. 

Sylus had left you suspended upon a torturous precipice for so long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on for.  

“Hey,” Rafayel prompts. 

Garnet binds immediately spring to life, streaking towards the bottles lined up neat atop a marble slab. Plucking one up as if by rote memory, before depositing it into Rafayel’s grasp. “As our princeling desires,” Sylus speaks; the raw amusement you can hear within his words.  

Rafayel’s response is all but a raised brow — they have learned to synchronize well against each other, you realize with a shaky exhale. You are glad, as you are nervous, for the state of your body; the havoc they wreck onto you, once your boys are in tandem.  

The lubricant well-smeared across Rafayel’s digits, he reaches in between your bodies to run his fingers against the same place Sylus does, two sets of different fingers they ease, gentle, into your ass. Rafayel’s low groan of pleasure, you lunge forwards to drink against your lips.  

“I need—” you cry out against him, just as Rafayel withdraws from you entirely to leave Sylus to press his fingers deeper into you, a slow, caressing slide; eased by their gentle loosening of your hole.  

Rafayel hums a low, euphoric sound. “Do you need him deep inside you, my love?”  

“Yes.”  

“You’re almost there for me, sweetheart. Breathe.” Sylus’ grunt of approval at your compliance, he drowns into a relishing bite at your shoulder.  

Rafayel’s mouth descends upon your breasts, pulsing open mouthed kisses right above the expanse of your thundering heart, his fingers finding their way towards your neglected slit, mercifully pressing into you. A loud, broken moan wrenched out of your throat, pleasure now far palpable after having been edged for so long.  

“You’re so wet. So very captivating when you are like this.”  

“I love you, Rafayel.” you gasp, tears gathering at your eyes to feel so full of them both.  

He pulses a kiss against your mouth in heated devotion, tongue warming against yours in between urgent breaths, “I am yours. Call for me, my beloved bride.”

“Rafayel.”

“Ah. Once more, so I know I am entirely yours to have.” he entreats, gaze heated. 

His fingers gather pace — in tandem with Sylus’ controlled assault — striking rhythmic against your frontal walls on each thrust. A spot he gathers at, one that incinerates itself against his adept motions, insistent thumb gliding its touches about the sweet area of your apex, hurtling you faster towards a vehement finish.

“And that you are mine. Call my name, call for me.” 

“Rafayel, my Rafayel.” And you tumble over the edge at that final delightfully sensual push, quivering nerveless, in between your lovers.  

“There’s more of where that came from, kitten. Don’t give up on us now.” Sylus coaxes, extracting himself from the instinctual clench of your body, whimpering at the keen emptiness of his loss.  

“Give yourselves to me,” you beg, “I need to feel you inside me.”  

“And you shall have us,” Rafayel soothes, pressing the head of his cock against you.  

“As many times as you need.” Sylus allows; the swell of his arousal striking heavy against the cleft of your ass.

The slow ingress of their cocks deep into your body, sends explosive stars skittering across your vision, the overwhelming fullness already throttling you into another orgasm so intense, they have to hold your body still against theirs. Propelling into you in tandem with each other until they set a rhythmic, burning pace within your swollen holes.

Rafayel’s fingers cup about your jaw, dragging you into a fervid, wet kiss. His moans of pleasure he drowns against the heat of your tongue. 

Before Sylus lunges forward in a demand for your attentions next, strong digits threading through your locks to guide your head towards him, catching the string of pleasure that stretches thin in between your and Rafayel’s lips, as soon as it forms, against his mouth in a violent kiss.

The thick strength of his cock pulses firmer within your body, each swollen stroke of arousal you feel zip right up across your spine from how Sylus has taught your body to fit his daunting size, well. Each propulsion he carves deeper into your walls, a striking reminder of how intimately your body remembers the shape of him.   

Rafayel takes to painting littered marks of pleasure against your neck, their lengths already throbbing in impending release, searing within you. 

You squeeze about them at the sole, ruinous thought of their wet heats, flooding you soon. Moaning against Sylus’ mouth when their pacing turns reckless.

“Close,” Rafayel grits in need, cleaving your thighs up and open to constrain against Sylus, the man behind spares no mercy; hot scaffoldings of his own palms, he curves above Rafayel’s, so your sole choice is but to take. 

“I’m almost, fuck—” Sylus groans a filthy, guttural sound, “you’ve gone so tight, sweetheart.” Burying his face into the stretch of your shoulder, just as Rafayel’s mouth finds yours at the apex of his pleasure, spurting hot within you. 

Sylus’ own release, almost immediately after, his cock pulsates its thick release into your body, surge after surge of it, your body unable to accommodate it entirely. Their combined pleasures, the frenzied brush of both their fingers against your clit, sends you hurtling into your own orgasm, sobbing against Rafayel’s mouth.  

Emptying them both, of their seed, for yourself.

You fall breathless against Sylus, strength and consciousness both seeming to flee with the final sparks of quivering pleasure that jolt about your limbs. Letting yourself rest against the strength of Sylus’ body as he soothes a kiss onto your damp temple. “A job well done, sweetheart.” 

His final words, you accept in immense bliss, before entrusting yourself to your men in your vulnerability.  

A long time has drifted by you, it seems — minutes or hours — you cannot quite tell the difference as your mind edges the cusp of awareness. You recall the sensation of your lovers’ hands upon you, phantom breaths that persist against the expanse of your skin, still. Words of adoration, grunts of desire, the press of their lips you feel within each sweet ache of your body.  

The glancing touch of a hungering mouth, at the places you were weakest. The luxuriating stretch of silken sheets at your back — body coddled in soft fabric — as you shift, eyes drifting open on a haze of lust that still chokes your mind, a simmering wet heat kindling in between your legs. Flowing from you and onto an insistent tongue.  

Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation, gaze rushing down the expanse of your body to snag at the sight of a silver-haired head buried in between the space of your legs, moon-pale strands brushing the skin of your thighs in ticklish strokes. “Oh. You’re awake.” Xavier speaks, right into your pussy.  His fingers pulse about the catch of your legs, keeping you steady for a slow sweep of his tongue into your slit. Sending your fingers grappling forwards, into his hair, your hips lurching up into his mouth. 

Cheeks flushing fast into crimson at the realisation of how wet he’s made you, in your slumber alone. 

Xavier relents at last, rising from in between your legs. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” Your slick drenches his lips, smeared across his jaw; the sight sending a fresh jolt of arousal straight in between your legs.   

“Xavier,” your voice sounds hoarse to your own ears. “starlight.” 

He nuzzles his cheek, obedient, into the palm you stretch out for him. Pulses a wet kiss onto the expanse of sensitive skin. “We’re home.” He murmurs, clear cerulean eyes meeting yours. 

“How have you been?” The quiet baritone of Zayne’s voice reaches your ears from above, you notice your head lies cradled within his lap, the pads of roughened fingertips scraping gentle circles into your scalp. You shift yourself upright onto the bed.  

“Well. Now that you’re both here.” You curve coveting fingers about his jaw, luring his face closer to brush a gentle kiss against your lover’s mouth.  

Zayne’s long changed out of his stifling attire, clad in a loose robe — he’s eased himself by your side. Carding absent fingers through the fall of your hair to hold steady, as you greet each other in chaste kisses.  

The day’s harsh lines marred across his bow, softening with each kiss you flitter against his mouth, his cheeks, his lids apiece. He hasn’t had a proper weekend off from the hospital in ages; you’re determined to make the most of it now and help ease your beloved’s nerves tonight, and over the course of your rare days off. 

You all deserved it, this short moment of reprieve, a chance to celebrate and enjoy what was purely yours.  

You inch up across his lap, body much too aware of the moisture that soaks past swollen folds and leaks onto your thighs, an obscenity barely concealed by the flowing frills of your flimsy nightwear, caressing just past your ass. A fact, Xavier has not let you forget, owing to how his hands haven’t deprived you of their warmth, even when his mouth has — slow, stimulating touches across the stretch of your thighs, fingers tickling at the sensitive skin underneath your knees.  

Xavier advances up the length of the bed, with you. His torso draping onto your back, careful hands gathering your hair to shift onto your other side, he grazes a demure kiss onto the crescent of your exposed shoulder. 

You sink down upon Zayne, securing your much needed support, in the palms you press against the hard expanse of his chest. “How was your day?” Murmuring the question into the give of his neck.

“I had a graft and by-pass surgery planned earlier this afternoon.” Zayne replies, fingers trekking a measured path from your throat, down, along the slope of your clavicle; you shiver underneath his scrutiny. “It went well, so I was able to join you sooner rather than much later.”  

“Owing all to your brilliance surely, Dr. Zayne.” Your affectionate smile, you secrete against his mouth. “Xavier, however. I expected you sooner, starlight.”  

He hums — a sound of morose defeat — into your skin. “I nearly dozed on my feet during that unnecessarily long briefing.” Burying his face into the side of your neck, to breathe; his next murmurs stifled. “They could’ve just mailed the mission details to me. I wanted to head back with you too.” 

You laugh softly, sinking your fingers indulgently into the silken strands of his hair. “Captain Jenna would be so upset if she heard you right now.” 

“And you.” Large palms cup about the pliant flare of your waist, your breath hitches at Zayne’s provocative touch. “It certainly looks like those two did a somewhat decent job of taking care of you in our absence. The colour’s back in your cheeks.” 

You smile, sheepish, at the remembrance of your last meeting; his displeased frown, vivid, from across the barrier of his work desk, as he’d prescribed a few vitamins for you to take, owing to the sallow pallor that had taken your face, an aftermath of long sleepless nights chasing Wanderers.

“Oh, they have.” You assure, “Speaking of, where are my missing two?” 

Xavier’s teeth sink into a testing bite at the flesh of your neck. “Fixing a meal I think, Sylus mentioned.” He murmurs absently. 

“Ah. We should all have—” your voice fractures. “dinner together.” 

“Later.” Zayne leans forward, mouth skimming a gentle kiss in between your breasts. “Right now, I require you sate a different hunger of mine.” Teeth catching at the gauzy fabric of your lingerie. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” The low rugged quality to his request, pooling arousal deep into your belly.  

“I like how she looks in this,” Xavier smooths a touch down the length of your thigh, fingering, gentle, at the frilled garter of the stocking encasing it. “I’m almost jealous of you, Doctor.”  

“It is becoming on her,” Zayne agrees, large fingers cupping about the shape of your breasts, rolling at the peaks. You shift your hips in a grind upon his thigh, in an anguished effort for further stimulation. “But does the recipient herself approve of my gift?”  

“She does,” you gasp. “If it gets you looking at her with such need, she does—” The rest of your words, Zayne pilfers right into his mouth in an engulfing kiss. 

Strong fingers ghost the pliance of your body, down in between your legs to meet Xavier’s. Hot, glancing touches across your quivering pussy, coating their fingers in copious slick.  

“The doctor looks so wound up,” Xavier comments mildly. “Help him relieve some of that pent-up stress, baby.”  

“You—” Zayne grunts, just as Xavier steers your bodies until you lie, pliant, upon Zayne’s lap, the straining outline of his arousal barely concealed under the modesty of his robes. You moan enthusiastically, fingers undoing the fastenings of his robe to release him, free against eager lips.  

“That looks painful,” Xavier comments with an insouciant shrug, hands firming their grip about your ass to raise. “How long have you been holding back?” 

“Quiet, Xavier.” Zayne reproaches, voice throttled in raw need. 

Your heart and body immediately melting for him, you put your mouth to the head of his cock, taking him in.  

A quiver rips across his abdomen at the first lap of your tongue on him, his fingers gentle, encouraging within your hair. A vehement desire cascades forth: to see him make more of that expression, just for you.  

“Wet him for yourself, just like that.” Xavier encourages on a soft catch of breath, tapered fingers curving into your drenched slit to stroke against your frontal walls. 

Working your tongue steadily, about the generous girth of him — Zayne’s digits remain a patient point of pressure against your scalp — until he hits your throat, pleasant and full, at long last. You groan around him, Zayne swallowing heavily at the vibrations of your throat.  

“Don’t be gentle.” Xavier speaks, releasing himself from the wet confines of your clenching walls — fingers he unfurls forwards, to smear across the free length of Zayne’s cock, your throat could not accommodate.  

You feel Xavier settle heavy, upon the cleft of your ass; the head of his own cock he glides, indolent, in between your dripping folds.  

And just as your insides flutter in impatient emptiness at the baiting stimulation, he enters you on a swift stroke, your garbled sound of pleasure, sending you deeper onto Zayne.  

Xavier sets a furious, punishing pace for the three of you, your mouth working diligent against the hard strain of Zayne’s arousal. Your smothered cries of delight mixing with theirs, heated into the air; Zayne’s low guttural groans stirring deep into your belly, within the same space Xavier works open with his cock.  

Your silver beast descends upon you, mouth working a steady path along the length of your spine, tongue sweeping a cool, wet trail in its wake.  

His fingers reach to tuck stray strands of hair away from your face — easing them behind an ear before he gathers the fall of your hair into a gentle fist, granting an obstructed view of your ruination, to your lover in front. 

The pleasured flush dashed across Zayne’s cheekbones, hurtles higher to witness the wreck of desire you know is upon your face. He looks at you as if he wants to love and ruin you, it sends a jolt of inundating slick, right between your legs.  

Xavier grunts at your tightening walls, licking a strip up the curve of your ear. “Can I—” His voice ruptures in overwhelming arousal. “—inside? I want to. Let me?”  

Your answer; a moan of vehement assent, intermixing with Zayne’s responsive groan. Come for me, Xavier.  

His grip upon your hips turns bruising, pelvis driving hard against your ass until he’s releasing himself; hot, pulsating strokes of come, painting into you.  

He pulls almost immediately out of your quivering walls, palms shifting underneath your body to lift, until he positions you, right atop Zayne’s drenched cock. His seed still spilling out onto the swollen head of him, just as he coaxes your hips down to take Zayne in, the two of you groaning out in concert at your union.  

Zayne surges forwards, sweat soaked forehead pressing against yours; a low, inarticulate curse tumbles from his lips at the clench of your walls, still sensitised from Xavier’s release. 

“You’re burning up.” Long, thick digits curve beneath the nerveless stretch of your thighs, guiding you in deep, measured thrusts over his cock.  Xavier’s ministrations having had you well-prepared to accommodate Zayne in a single stroke. 

On usual days, your body able to accept him only in gradual, pleasurable propulsions, he works deep into your pussy.  

“Lean on me.” Zayne speaks.  

You do as he asks, appreciative of the reprieve allowed to let go and let Zayne guide you both into bliss. His fingers stroke about your entrance, a thumb he grazes against your clit, in an electrifying jolt of pleasure. 

“Come now.” He instructs the man at your back. Soothing a hand down the curve of your spine when you feel Xavier’s arousal, firmed into solid stone once more, at your entrance. You moan at the prospect of what’s to come. Never having accepted any of your lovers into the same space, when Zayne is inside you. 

“Breathe for me.” He asks of you. “Look at me.” And you do, in willing love; gaze finding his, coddled in the comfort of his verdant eyes — steady — even in the heated throes of your combined passion. “I am here for you.”  

Just as the head of Xavier’s cock presses, insistent at the base of Zayne’s, your body beginning to give into him. Zayne hastens to curb his grunt of pleasure into your mouth, tongues moving against the other as Xavier steadily strokes a slow path into you. 

Both your men settling whole and so incredibly full within your body, you sigh in shuddered stimulation when they navigate a rhythm in between your bodies, never leaving you empty for even a moment’s reprieve. A stretch so good, it stirs satisfaction deep into your stomach. The desire for them to leave you drenched up to your womb as you voice it on incoherent whispers, head rolling back onto Xavier’s shoulder.  

Their hands; gripping about the shell of your hips, down upon the flare of your thighs. Across the pinching stimulation of your breasts, your throat. Xavier’s fingers brushing to feel the desperate thrumming of your carotid beneath his hold.  

Sweeping an index across your damp lip, end to end, before he slips a finger into your mouth, toying at the pink of your tongue as it darts out for a taste.  

The fever of your desire streaks higher, passion so incinerating, it only takes Zayne a thumbing caress across your clit before you are convulsing, violent about the two of them in a loud, sobbing cry. Wetness slicking down your thighs despite the way they plug you, their pacing climbing faster with each swift second of inundating pleasure your clenching walls force upon them, chasing a high they seek to release into your body alone.  

And when they come with bated breaths and strangled groans, your combined essence overflows from in between your legs, staining the sheets wide and dark beneath. 

It is only several breathless moments later that you are able to move, body wasted and draped upon your chosen seat — Zayne does not look as if he minds much, smoothing a kiss onto the sweat-slick stretch of your breastbone. “Happy anniversary, my reckless Hunter.” And then in slower, softer words. “I love you.” 

You kiss your response against his mouth; a happy, languorous sound leaving your throat. Curving an arm tighter about Xavier nuzzled into the side of your waist, your gentle beast having settled into a short slumber, after having murmured of needing your warmth close by.  

The doors to their bedroom slide open just then, to admit Sylus, carrying what looks to be an expensive bottle of wine and a set of glasses, nestled onto a salver perched across his arm. Rafayel, following close on heel, with a large tray on hand; the pleasant scent that wafts from the steam laced spice off the fresh spread of food, triggers your bout of hunger.

“Reckless brutes,” Sylus comments, an amused brow he raises upon witnessing the utter disarray of your wrecked states. A smile that skews only wider with the distasteful knit to Zayne’s brow.  

As if he was one to speak, you would’ve snorted in defence, if you weren’t so drained. 

Xavier, too, stirs beside you at the commotion just as the last two men of your heart move to join you upon the vast bed. “Get up and eat.” Sylus instructs, rapping his fist against Xavier’s prone form. 

“You alright?” Rafayel questions, the moment he is seated at your side, reaching to entwine his fingers in between yours, a hoarse sound of approval you respond with, at his pleasant touch.  

In between Zayne and Rafayel, they guide your body into an upright position. 

Your head coasts sideways and onto Rafayel’s shoulder, in languid stupor, as he brings a spoon of hot broth to your lips. “Start with this, you’ll feel better once warmed from the inside.”  

“Warm her, they did already… from the ‘inside’ that is,” Sylus’ licentious whisper reaches your ears from the side, setting your face to an incandescent glow at the recollection. 

“Crude.” Rafayel reproaches — you do not, however, miss the scandalised red that seeps across his ears at his provocations.

You join in quiet laughter at Sylus’ words, burying your face deeper against Rafayel’s skin. A cosy arm he immediately brings about your shoulders to hold you close, as he continues to satiate your other, necessary hunger. 

His scent soothes and settles deep into your lungs, gaze trekking, absent, to the stretch of skin exposed beneath his unbuttoned shirt, from where you smell his perfume strongest. A sudden, stray thought of wanting to lap a path up against him, assaults your mind, sore body responding in feeble protest.  

A shadow falls upon you; Sylus’ thumb brushing, delicate, at the corner of your lips. “Eat well for now. Replenish your strength.” A kiss he nips onto your ear, you shiver at the muted stimulation. 

“Sylus—” 

“You’ll have your fill of us, as much as your heart desires, after.” He promises in decadent whispers.  

Your men, proving true to his words; the rest of your long night spent in seeking love against each other’s skins and within their embrace. 

Until they engrave proof of their existence — devotion and desire — scattered like scarlet jewels along the canvas of your body.

End Notes: This is my first foray into writing this kind of relationship for my favorite media and I enjoyed each excruciating second of agonizing over positions and 🍆s. Although I adore a hot poly romance just as much as the next person (cough Him&Him&Him), it certainly isn’t something I’ll personally be trying again any time soon LOL.

Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated, if you are so inclined, and never fail to put a smile on my face.

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[softaestluv]

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want and you answer.

Simon ‘ghost’ Riley x f! Reader

tags: short n’ sweet, fluff, denial, eventual smut/romance

Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4 Pt. 5, last part | Ao3 | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

A cat.

A stupid cat.

A stupid fawn cat with sharp golden eyes.

Simon Riley has faced many adversaries in his life, laid awake in the face of death more times than he can count.

And yet, the most insistent, burdensome, inconvenience he has ever faced is a cat. A stupid cat. A stupid fawn cat with sharp golden eyes.

Simon Riley is not a cat person, not necessarily an animal person either. He doesn’t understand humans as it is, animals are even more difficult to wrap his head around. At least most humans have a basic understanding to be afraid of the bulking man they cross paths with, and avoid him at all costs. Don’t seek refuge with the apparition of a man who wears his scars like a badge of honor.

At least most humans don’t sit on his porch doorstep alongside the tattered skull mat that Laswell gave him as a housewarming gift months ago. Don’t return day after day, night after night, after being shooed and shushed away with a swat of his hand and harshly uttered words.

Simon hasn’t even fed said fawn-colored cat, hasn’t even brushed a pet against the back of its neck, and there it sits, perched on its hind legs, sniffing, and meowing for his attention, waiting for the day he bends down with a palm full of kibble as an offering. But Simon would be a dead man before that day ever comes.

Maybe the previous tenant fed the bloody cat. Maybe the previous tenant just left the poor cat to fend for itself when they moved out.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter because he wasn’t that person. Simon wasn’t the previous tenant who had a soft heart for a ball of fur and golden beady eyes. Wasn’t the person the cat was searching for and he wasn’t about to pretend he was.

So, day after day, night after night, he continued to slam his withered door in the face of his biggest adversary, a stupid cat.

When this did not work, he picked the cat up and placed it on the sidewalk in front of his house in hopes it would not return, but minutes later, there was a quiet, disgruntled meowing outside his window. He should have known that would not work.

Then, he started walking it a few blocks away, placing it amongst random stranger's backyards; the minutes of peace without a furry animal outside his doorstep turned into hours, but like an animal trained, there it would arrive hours later.

Simon almost, almost, felt bad, disgusted when the cat would purr eagerly and contentedly in his large palms, searching for his brutish affection just for him to toss it to the side. He even asked his elderly neighbor if she wanted the bloody cat, but she claimed five cats were enough on her plate. Five cats, he grumbled; what the bloody hell was the difference between five and six cats?

When none of this worked, he shoved the fawn-colored cat into his old pick-up, pushed it away with stiff elbows as it kept trying to nudge its small head against his arms, and drove across town. Left it at a park, surely a whiny child would pick it up with nubby hands and sticky fingers and throw a high-pitched tantrum until their mother agreed to take the cat home.

Two days went by without matted fur on his house mat or adamant meowing. Simon thought he won, conquered the worst enemy of all, fangs and claws. The third day he woke up with shoulders that weighed a little less, a headache that didn’t throb as painfully behind his eyelids or temples.

Simon Riley wasn’t a man of hope. He acted and shaped the outcome of his life with his bare hands and preservation. Maybe his first mistake was letting a glimmer of hope shine between his irises for three whole days because, on the fourth day, he heard an all too familiar scratching at his wooden door.

He cursed the day he lived.

His last ditch effort was to upload an ad on the internet, quite an inconvenience for a man who had a flip phone as a means of communication, but creating an ad was the only solution he could possibly imagine to solve his four-legged problem.

‘Bloody stray cat won’t leave me alone, and I don’t want it. FREE for anyone who’s willing. I’ll even drive it to your location to get it off my hands.’

Truly, he thought he might be too wishful thinking anyone would respond to such an ad, but he was pleasantly surprised when he woke up to a message the next morning.

‘Hi! I would love to take the precious baby off your hands! :)’

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 (s.jy)

PAIRING: alpha!jake x omega!reader (f)

SUMMARY: being an omega was already hard, but being an omega with an alpha roommate was worse. especially during your heats. you’d lock yourself in your room, trying to ignore his strong scent and his presence, but jake has had enough of hearing pained wails. he’ll help you, even if he wasn’t your alpha (yet).

WARNINGS: omegaverse, roommates au, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), breeding kink, doggystyle, dirty talking, riding, cream pie, fingering, pussy eating, knotting (?) , heat and mentions of ruts, pet names (baby, good girl), mentions of pups (this feels strange idk), reader is a virgin, overstimulation, tits sucking (😋), mentions of pregnancy, manhandling, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 28th August 2024

WC: 4.2k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emisloves @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 (oneshot) @nyfwyeonjun @high-and-low-all-the-way @victorylr @jaeyunwon @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @nshmrarki @hchoes @entenen @heeseungshim @seungminsapuppy @starfallia @ratchet-sebooty @jakeyismine @laurradoesloveu @denleave1088 @weebgeek22 @victoriasimm @strxwbloody @love4hee @strayy-kidz @iheartshopping @isa942572 @hazycottagedreams @jky001 @haelahoops @chososloverfr @mitmit01 @icepriincehoon @kaykay11sworld @riribelle @coraldonutmagazine @seuomo @sn03 @hoonwonsoul @pinksweetlittlepiano @jiminie-08 @leiclerc BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED (adding the rest in the comments cause i can’t tag more than 50 ppl)

a/n: why do i always end my jake fics with a cliffhanger? it’s a mistery to me as well. i don’t really like how it turned out but i sincerely hope y’all do. idk much abt omegaverse and i searched on google most of the information, if it ain’t accurate let’s just say it’s caseyverse and call it a day. please REBLOG & COMMENT bcs only likes get me shadowbanned. also, lmk your thoughts on this fic 🫶🫶

You were prepared.

You had your favourite blankets, all your plushies, your phone and your charger.

You had even bought a mini fridge to keep enough food so that you would resist for at least three days.

Your heat was coming, you could feel it in your bones, which was the main reason as to why you were locked in your bedroom.

Taking the pill to stop the heat from coming was a good idea, especially since you didn’t have an alpha of your own, but the doctor refused to prescribe them, saying that they would really damage your health.

Because suffering for two to three days straight wasn’t.

Your skin was hot, too hot, sweat started gathering on your forehead, and sticking you to the sheets.

You laid on your bed, trying your best to even your breaths and willing your mind not to slip away.

You hated being an omega and going into heat, especially in summer. The weather affected it, making the pain unbearable.

As you thought about it, a sharp pain like a sting hit your lower stomach, you could feel your panties wetting with arousal.

A small yelp left your lips, your hips slowly bucking in the air to soothe the ache between your legs.

It was humiliating, the way your mind succumbed to the primal urge to mating, to being bred.

Suddenly, a soft knock came from the other side of the door and you scrunched your nose.

Jake, with his strong hormones scent, minty but musky at the same time. You normally could live with it, he was good at hiding his scent so as not to bother you and you hid your pheromones well too.

But now, it almost suffocated you and he wasn’t even in the room with you “Y/N… can I come in?”

You scoffed, mood already ruined by your denied pleasure. It’s not like you didn’t have toys, they were in your drawer, but most definitely you weren’t to use them while Jake was in the house.

You just needed to keep control of your mind.

“Jake, no.” You hissed, even if he already knew the answer “Not for the rest three working days.”

Jake pressed his forehead on the door. He also went into rut, but he would just find a willing omega or a beta to bury himself and then forget about them.

You weren’t like him, you didn’t want someone you didn’t know to be inside you, to have such a power over your body.

“Three days?” He sighed “Fuck, your scent is so strong.”

And it was true, during your heat you released more pheromones so as to attract other alphas. Fact was, it also drove your roommate insane.

“I can smell how bad your heat is, it drives me crazy.” Jake murmured, making you shiver.

You could hear his breathless voice, the thick Australian accent rolling off his tongue was such a turn on.

“Don’t—“ You groaned when another wave of pain hit your lower stomach, “Don’t talk like that.” You pleaded.

"I can't help it." He said, "Your scent is so strong, you smell so good…”

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw.

“Please, Jake.” You clung the sheet under you, needing an anchor against your lust “Leave, go outside.”

“I can’t.” He was quick to say “You keep whimpering and I don’t want to hear you in pain.” He stated.

“I’m g-grand.” You replied, “I can manage.”

He gripped the door handle, his muscles tensing up. “I want to help you." He said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I want to take care of you and make you feel good, please, just let me in."

“Don’t complicate things,” You breathed out, your hips moving around the bed “We set boundaries, remember?”

“Boundaries don’t expect me to sit back, knowing you’re suffering.” He bit back, voice strained.

“Still,” You commented.

Jake and you had a nice relationship, you weren’t just roommates but also friends. You loved to hang out with him and you didn’t want him to see you like this. Again, it was too embarrassing, you weren’t sure you’d be able to face him afterwards.

He tried to pull the handle but obviously, you had locked the door “Y/N, open up.”

You turned around on the bed, your hips humping against the mattress, your face flush on the sheets “No.” You said, trying to sound convincing.

“I just want to help you, don’t overthink it.” Jake sighed, pulling the door knob again. “I said no, Jake. Go away.”

At another groan that escaped your lips, Jake couldn’t take it anymore and kicked the door a couple of times until it swung open.

You widened your eyes “What—“ Before you could talk, he pounced on you, his body holding yours down.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that resembled vanilla and peaches, making his head spin “You smell so good, baby.”

You breathed out, trying your hardest not to think about his body so close to you, his skin on yours, “Jake please, get out.”

He planted hot kisses down your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body. “Let me take care of you, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“No..” You murmured but as his hands yanked off your shorts and panties, you could feel your wetness running down your thighs in the same way your consciousness crumbled.

You wanted it, you wanted Jake to take you, to make you his and calm the burning desire that consumed you.

He cursed under his breath, two fingers gathered your arousal and he put them in his mouth, humming “You even taste delicious baby, can you be anymore perfect?”

“Jake..” You murmured, “Make it better.” Your voice was strained and whiny, making Jake’s pants tighter.

“Say no more.” He said and without any warning he pushed two fingers deep inside of you.

How they even fit was foreign to you, given that nobody had ever dared to touch you there, but you didn’t really care at that moment. It felt good, so good.

You moaned out, gripping the sheets under you, your mind already a puddle of pleasure.

His digits were skilled, brushing and thrusting in every spot that got your eyes rolling.

“So wet for me baby, mh?” Jake groaned, the squelching sound filling the room, imprinting in his ears.

He raised your shirt with his free hand and started groping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

He towered you, his presence dominant behind you, like a shadow swallowing you whole.

Whimpers left your lips, but this time they were a reaction from pleasure, not pain.

“Where is it?” He asked, biting his tongue as he desperately searched for something inside you.

When he felt you moan loudly, he smirked “Got it.” And he started thrusting his fingers in and out, reaching that spot again.

You felt as if your body was being burned, you needed him to continue it, to take you to the edge.

And Jake never stopped, even if his wrist hurt and his fingers grew sore. He lived to hear your cries of pleasure, to be the one making you squirm.

“Close?” He asked when he felt your walls clench around his digits and you nodded.

“Ugh.” You moaned, your eyes squeezing and with one last thrust of his fingers, you fell apart.

Your body trembled, your legs shook. Jake gently helped you ride out of your high before pulling out his fingers and licking them clean.

“If only you could taste yourself, baby.” He took your chin in his hand and raised your body so you were kneeling, back flush to his chest “So sweet, I can’t get enough.”

You felt his bulge brush against your back and it was the moment where your mind went completely black.

Lust winning over reason.

You breathed out “Jake,” Letting one of your hands wander down his chest until it reached his sweats, feeling his clothed hard-on “Put it inside me.”

Jake cursed, his body trembling “You want it inside?” He questioned, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear “Want me to fuck you, mh?”

You nodded blissfully, trying to pull his pants down.

Jake chuckled and let you fall on the mattress, quickly working both his shirt and pants off.

You peeked at him over your shoulder and gasped. His cock was huge, so long and thick it made your mouth water.

Any worry that it might not fit in your virgin pussy was clouded by lust, so you said “Hurry.” Raising your backside in the air.

“Patience.” He ordered, gently pulling your shorts and panties down your ankles, as well as removing your shirt.

He stroked his hard shaft, already leaking precum, he kneeled closer to you and you held onto the headboard.

Jake gripped your backside, squeezing your hips as he teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

You gasped, the feeling so good “I’m going in now.” He had the decency to warn that time and slowly, pushed inside you.

“Ngh.” You moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he put all of his length in you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

Jake sighed, his head thrown back. Your walls hugged him, “You’re so tight.” He grunted.

He was going slow so he wouldn’t hurt you, but it wasn’t enough for you. You needed more, you needed to feel all of him in all of you.

“Faster,” You pleaded, arching your back “Faster, fuck me fast.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” He murmured, his pace still too slow

“You hurt me if you don’t start moving fast.” You groaned, reaching a hand behind you to pull his hips nearer you.

Jake shook his head, amazed “Anything you want.” Like that, he moved faster.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room as well as the squelching ones from your wetness.

“M’gonna fuck you so good,” He said, voice so husky. He took your chin in his grasp and pulled you up, tilting it to the side so he could kiss you.

Finally, he got a taste of your lips, his tongue licking yours, giving delicious strokes.

You moaned in his mouth and he rewarded you with a rather deep thrust that hit your cervix.

He smirked, knowing he had found your sweetest spot, so he kept hitting it repetitively, alternating slow to fast thrusts.

“That’s it,” He snuck a hand on your neck and gently squeezed “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You couldn’t almost see straight from the amount of pleasure you were given.

He licked your ear, then pressed wet kisses down your jaw, occasionally sucking.

Your pussy clenched around him, signalling that you were close to your orgasm.

“Jake,” You breathed out “Jake, m’so close.”

His free hand went to your clit, gently rubbing circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body.

“Ugh!” You moaned, the knot in your stomach snapping, making you cream all over his cock.

Jake gave you slow thrusts, helping you ride out of your orgasms and waiting for you to come down off your high.

Your eyes flickered open as you flopped on the mattress, your body growing tired.

Jake pulled out, making you frown “W-what about you?” You asked quietly.

“I’d love to continue baby, but it’s easier to get pregnant during your heat and I have no condoms.” He explained, pressing a featherlight kiss on your shoulder.

How he wasn’t yet a slave of lust, you didn’t know.

“But..” You wanted to argue but your reason was gone, even the lust, replaced by an immense tiredness.

Jake helped you lay down properly, caressing your sweaty forehead “I don’t want to take advantage of you, if we keep going I won’t be able to pull away.”

He leaned down to press another kiss on your lips “Rest, I’ll clean you up and stay with you, ok?”

You only managed to softly hum as your eyelids grew heavy and his voice grew faint until the world was just black.

⪩⪨.

When you felt the second wave hit, you had half expected to wake up in a pool of sweat and slick.

Definitely, not with Jake’s nose rubbing your clothed pussy, inhaling your sweet smell.

“Jake?” You asked, your voice laced with sleep.

He raised his face and looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot. You couldn’t control your pheromones while you slept and they drove Jake insane, making him lust drunk.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured, giving your pussy another smell “Really need to taste you.”

You still felt groggy from your deep slumber when he slipped your panties down and smelled them again.

“Christ,” Jake groaned, slipping them into his sweatpants�� pocket.

He placed gentle kisses on your thighs and raised your legs, letting them rest on your shoulders.

Jake’s breath fanned against your pussy, making you let out a whiney exhale. He smirked and licked a long stripe out of your wet folds.

He moaned, really moaned, at the taste of you and you couldn’t help but glance down at the man between your legs.

He was drop dead gorgeous, with two deep brown eyes, messy hair and the expression of a starved man ready to dig in for his long awaited meal.

Jake gave you kitten licks again, alternating soft kisses to sucking.

You moaned, throwing your head back. You had always fantasised about how good getting eaten out felt like, but Jake must’ve been the masters of it because lord, if he made you see stars.

Your pussy was dripping with arousal, your juices coating his face, running down his chin.

But he didn’t mind, instead, he tried to gather them all on his tongue so as not to miss anything.

He buried his face between your legs, your feet locking behind his neck.

“You need to keep them open, baby.” He murmured on your clit, “Alright? Can you do that for me?”

You let out a broken hum in response, your mind just filled with unholy thoughts of him. You just barely opened your legs for him.

You needed him to make you cum, over and over again, to teach you everything he knew, in all the positions he liked.

“Good girl,” Jake whispered before downing again, his tongue lapping on your bundle of nerves.

He thrust one finger inside of you, gently curling it to reach your sweet spot, making you a moaning mess.

“Ugh..” You yelped, your back arching, “Pussy so good.” He said between licks “Could do this all day.”

You groaned and put one hand on his head, fingers grasping his locks “Less talking, more licking.”

Jake loved how desperate you were, so different from your usually collected and shy attitude.

You were clouded by lust and all of that was for him, he was really the luckiest alpha on earth.

Your hips bucked against his tongue, you were so close to your orgasm you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Jake...” You breathed out, and he understood what you meant. He removed his finger from you and put his tongue instead, the sensation so new and wet.

His nose brushed against your clit and he patted your waist, signalling that you could start moving.

Both your hands grabbed his hair, riding his tongue, your hips bucking fast against him.

He moaned, sending vibrations all through your body. You rolled your eyes back, “M’so-so close.” You murmured “M’gonna cum.”

If Jake’s mouth was free, he would’ve cooed at how cute you looked, so lost in pleasure you couldn’t even speak properly.

With a few more strong bucks, your legs shook around his neck, your orgasm reaching you like a tidal wave.

You pulled his hair so hard it hurt, but Jake didn’t mind. No, he actually liked it.

“Ride it out,” He murmured “Fuck my tongue, baby.”

You slowly calmed down, your legs fell down on Jake’s sides, your chest heaving slowlier.

You peeled your eyes open, glancing down at Jake.

He had been humping the mattress, as if eating you out was a source of pleasure for him as well.

You could see that the precum leaking from his bulge had stained his sweats, his chest already bare.

“Can I ride you?” You asked such a filthy question so innocently that Jake could’ve cum on spot.

“You want to ride me, baby?” You nodded shamelessly while he chuckled, patting your leg “Get up.”

You followed his lead, getting up so he could take your position. He leaned his back against your bed’s headboard and held out his hands to you.

You took them in yours as he helped you sit on his lap.

Jake’s hands settled on your waist while yours on his shoulders, your hips slowly rocking on his.

He groaned, his head thrown back against the headboard. “You feel so good.” His smirk made you want to do many unspeakable things to him.

Swiftly, he removed your shirt and started touching your warm breasts, teasing your nipples.

He tilted you towards him and latched his mouth on one, kissing and swirling his tongue around your nipple while kneading the other.

You moaned, rewarding him with a rather deep grind, feeling his whole length underneath you.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your blackened mind “Breed me.”

Jake stopped his work on your breasts and looked up at you, his brows furrowing.

Something in his brain was trying to warn him, but he was far too deep to even care “Yeah? You want me to breed you?”

He circled your waist with one arm and pulled you up, pulling his sweats and boxers down and kicking them off his ankles.

“I want your pups.” You murmured, your voice frail and quiet but full of desire.

Jake groaned, his cock twitching “Fuck, baby.”

“I’ll give you my pups,” You pumped his shaft with your hand and held it to your entrance as he slowly lowered you on him “I’ll fill you with my pups.”

The thought of your belly all swollen, your body changing to carry his pups wasn’t such a bad idea… was it?

You wanted everyone to know he was the alpha who took care of you, you wanted— no, you needed him to mate you.

He moved you up and down, slowly at first, so you could get used to him, but then he snapped his hips up into yours forcefully.

He debated whether to let you ride him or to just take the lead and fuck into you, but his control had crumbled long time ago and all he needed was to breed you.

The desire was consuming the both of you, leaving the room only with moans, grunts, heavy breaths and filthy sounds.

You sincerely hoped your neighbours weren’t to hear your late night activities.

You wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You left kitten kisses and sucked on his skin, making his head spin.

You fit so well in his arms and he fit so well inside of you.

“Pussy was made for me,” He grunted, his pace picking up “Mh, Were you made for me, baby? Aren’t you my omega?”

You nodded, your walls sucking him in, squeezing around him “I’m yours,” You cried out “I’m yours, all of me.”

Jake’s eyes lit up “Yeah?” He chuckled, placing one hand on your lower stomach. He could feel the shadow of his bulge under his palms.

“Do you feel it, baby? I’m here.” You felt him press down, earning a moan from you.

You looked down to where his hand was and almost came on spot “So— S’deep.” You threw your head back.

He circled your hips, making your clit brush against his pubic hair.

“You like it deep?” He asked, his voice low, his accent thicker when he was lost in lust. “You like it when I’m so deep you can feel me everywhere?”

You nodded mindlessly, your eyes squeezing as you felt your second orgasm approach “Like it!” You exclaimed “Like it so much, Jake, please.”

Jake groaned in answer and goped your ass, lifting you up so he could fuck into you.

His hips moved fast, his balls smacking on your skin. You grasped his shoulders and bit down on his neck, the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming all your senses.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close.” He murmured, his grip on you so tight it left red marks.

“Jake, oh lord—” You cried out, feeling your orgasm approach “Cum around my cock.” He whispered, his lips so close to your ear it sent shivers in your body.

“Mh— Ah.” You moaned as your euphoria reached you, your legs trembling and body squirming. If it wasn’t for Jake’s iron grip, you would’ve fallen out of your small bed.

But he didn’t care that you needed to calm down, not really, because his hips continued to snap against yours.

His cock was in so deep he hit your cervix with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure all around your body.

Your ears rang from your powerful orgasm, your breath laboured. Overstimulation made your body tremble. But still, you didn’t feel complete.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whisper in his ear, your arms clinging to him for dear life. “Please Jakey, I need you to breed me.”

That was all it took. Jake’s movements altered, his cock twitching inside of you as his balls emptied.

You felt his hot seed filling you up, but soon it was followed by a sharp pain.

“Ugh!” You groaned, tears filling your eyes “J-jake…”

He cursed under his breath, his orgasm still washing over him. It had never happened that he came so much like that time, liquid spurring inside of you.

“Shit baby, I’m sorry,” He breathed out “I may have knotted you.”

“What?!” You widened your eyes, back to your normal self. Your worried and overthinker self.

You tried to move away from him but the sharp pain came back.

“Shh, don’t move.” Jake instructed “It’ll hurt more if I pull out now,”

“It hurts either way!” You groaned, clinging on him like an anchor.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pressed featherlight kisses on your neck “The first time always hurts, but I swear it gets better.”

“I’m dying here.” You whimpered, but Jake’s touch was soothing and so were his words and a few minutes later, the pain stopped.

Slowly, he pulled out of you and kissed your temples “You okay?”

You nodded, now that there was nothing tied up inside of you, you felt refreshed. Happier. You didn’t even feel any discomfort caused from the heat.

Jake smiled softly and caressed your cheek, he leaned in to whisper “Knotting helps with your heat pain.”

“But it hurts like a bitch.” You frowned, watching as he carefully placed you down on the bed and cleaned you up with a tissue.

Jake chuckled, “I told you, it gets better.”

⪩⪨.

And it did, Jake was no liar.

The morning after he was kind enough to drive you to the doctor who gave you a prescription to take birth control. He said it would be better than fully stopping your heat.

He also reassured that the percentage to get pregnant was high after a knot (nagging at Jake for losing control), but as long as you took the pill within twenty-four hours, it would slow or block the process completely.

You hoped for the latter.

Obviously, he highly recommended to always use protections and to avoid knotting… but, you used a condom just a couple of times, because your heat wouldn’t get better unless Jake fucked you raw and filled you wih his seed.

In fact, he took you in the shower, on the couch and even in the kitchen. Any time was a good time to eat you out and stuff you full.

The only place left ‘holy’ was his room, but he said it’d be filthy once his rut started. Which, by the way, you agreed to help him through.

Jake even skipped his lectures to stay at home with you and provide you whatever you needed. Not like he attended much on a daily basis.

Everything went smoothly, he was so caring towards you, always looking after you when you passed out from the intense sex, even cooking for you (even if he burnt the pan and you two had to order out) and giving you nice massages until your heat completely stopped.

However, it was around a month later, when you came out of the bathroom with teary eyes and a positive pregnancy test in hand that you and Jake realised you had taken it too far.

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: Call Out My Name - DOM & SUB ♡

SUMMARY / You woke up needy, and Hongjoong helped.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT, DOM/SUB dynamics, soft!dom hongjoong, fem!reader, sub!reader, vanilla sex, daddy kink, praise, not really ddlg (the lg part weirds me out) so it's kind of just dd, oral (f), unprotected sex

word count ✩ 1,95k

tags ✩@desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

NOTE !! None!

"Harder…" you mumble in your sleep, your fists clenched tightly under the blankets. The room is silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. It's 8 AM, but the curtains are drawn, keeping the light at bay.

You whimper, your body jerking itself awake. You looked around and scoot closer to Hongjoong, feeling embarrassed for disturbing him. The digital clock beside the bed glows 8:03 AM, the red digits pulsing steadily like a silent alarm. The room is small, cluttered with the remnants of last night's study session: textbooks, empty cups of coffee, and crumpled papers litter the floor and desk. The air is stale, a testament to the lack of open windows and fresh air.

"Joong…" you shook him a bit. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a start, scanning the room with a wild gaze. Recognizing the safety of his own space, he relaxed slightly.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with sleep.

You shook your head, pushing the covers off of you and crawling on top of you. "No," you tugged at your shirt. "I need you…"

Hongjoong's eyes softened, and he reached out to pull you closer into his arms. "Yeah? How bad?" His question was gentle, his voice a soothing balm to your ringing head.

"Really bad," you tugged at your shirt. "P-Please. Just….u-use your mouth or something." You felt your cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. You had never been this vulnerable with him before.

"Aw, is my baby needy?" he teased, trying to ease the tension, but the tremble in your voice didn't go unnoticed. He could feel the urgency in your touch. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back, giving you access to his bare chest. "Do whatever you need to feel better," he said, his eyes searching yours for reassurance that this was really what you wanted.

"N-No, I need-" you tear your shirt off. "I need this." The fabric was sticky with cold sweat and it was suffocating you.

"Yeah?" he runs his fingers up and down your waist. "Okay… lay down."

You nod and plop onto the other side of the bed, laying on your back, the cool air from the air conditioner a welcome relief on your bare skin. Hongjoong sits up, the sheets falling away from his chest as he hovers over you, spreading your legs.

He pulled your pajama shorts down to your thighs, exposing your most intimate parts to the coolness of the room. His warm breath tickled your skin as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your left thigh. You felt a shiver run up your spine, the anticipation building like a crescendo in a symphony. The touch was light and feathery, his tongue tracing patterns that made you squirm with pleasure. He moved closer, his nose brushing against your core, and you could feel the heat from his breath.

"Joongie~," you mewl as his mouth finds the right spot, his tongue swirling and pressing down, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His eyes meet yours, filled with hunger and affection as he continues to explore your wetness with tender strokes. Your back arches off the bed, pushing your pelvis closer to his face, desperately seeking more.

"R-Right there, right there-" you run your fingers through his hair, guiding him as his mouth works its magic. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure through your core, making it impossible to hold back the moans that spill from your lips. He hums in response, the vibrations adding another layer to the sensations.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Hongjoong's tongue moved in a steady rhythm, lapping up your wetness as if he was afraid he might miss a single drop. His eyes never left yours, and you could see the determination in them to bring you to climax.

"R-Right TH--FUCK!" You cry out. "D-Don't stop!"

Hongjoong smirks, the vibration from his voice adding to the pleasure. He knows exactly what you need. He flattens his tongue and presses it firmly against your clit, the pressure and speed increasing as you get closer to the peak of pleasure. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging gently as your body tenses. You're panting now, each breath shallower than the last.

"H-Hongjoong!" you moan, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure intensifies. Your legs quiver and tighten around his neck as you feel yourself approaching the brink of your climax. His tongue never falters, lapping at you with an urgency that matches the racing of your heart. You can feel your muscles tense up, the heat within you building like a volcano ready to erupt.

With a final, desperate push, you come apart in his mouth, your body spasming as the orgasm washes over you. The room fades away, leaving only the sensation of his tongue and the sound of your own cries of pleasure. He continues to lick and suck gently, riding out the waves with you until they subside, leaving you trembling and breathless on the bed.

When you open your eyes again, the room is a hazy blur of shadows and early morning light. Hongjoong wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face. "Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and smoky.

"Mhm…" you mumble, your voice a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion as your body relaxes into the mattress. You can feel your heart rate slowly returning to normal, the throb between your legs echoing the beat of your pulse.

Hongjoong pushed his boxers down a bit, just enough for his cock to come out. It was hard, standing tall and demanding attention. You could see the precum glistening at the tip, a testament to his own need. "Now, let me take care of this," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as he positioned himself between your legs.

He gently pushed your legs further apart, and you felt the tip of his erection brush against your sensitive skin. Your breath hitched, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through your body as you anticipate his next move. With a firm grip on his shaft, he guided it to your entrance, pausing for a moment to appreciate the view. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of lust and love as he pushed inside you.

"You feel that?" he whispered, his voice a seductive purr as he began to rock his hips, his cock inching deeper into you. The sensation was exquisite, filling you up completely, stretching you around him. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your eyes fluttering shut as he claimed you with a gentle but firm strokes.

"Spread your legs a little more for me, pretty girl," Hongjoong instructed, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You obeyed, opening yourself up to him completely, and he took full advantage of the invitation. With a gentle push, he sank deeper, his cock sliding in and out of you with a slick sound that filled the room.

His movements grew more deliberate, his hips rolling into yours in a slow, steady rhythm that had you squirming with pleasure. The friction was perfect, his length hitting all the right spots and sending sparks of pleasure through your body with every thrust. You could feel yourself clenching around him, trying to hold onto the feeling of fullness as he began to quicken his pace.

"Joong…" you moaned, your hips rising to meet his, eager for more. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched your reaction, his own need growing with every whimper and gasp you made. He leaned down to kiss you, his tongue delving into your mouth as his cock drove deeper into you. The kiss was as passionate as it was possessive, a silent declaration of his love and desire.

"God, you feel so fucking good," he groaned against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he bit down gently, claiming it as his own. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you tried to hold on to the sensations threatening to overwhelm you.

His rhythm grew faster, his cock pistoning in and out of you with increasing urgency. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure through your core, and your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. You could feel the tension building again, your body begging for release.

"F-Faster," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to spur Hongjoong on, his hips snapping against yours with a newfound fervor. The slap of skin on skin filled the air, punctuating the quietude of the early morning. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh my god," you shudder, nails digging into the pillow under your head. You pull it over your face and close your thighs, trying to muffle the sounds escaping you. His chuckle is muffled by your skin, sending vibrations through your core.

"It's okay, baby. I got you," he grabs your hips, not stopping his pace, his movements becoming more demanding. You can feel his muscles tensing, his breaths growing more ragged. The bed creaks under the weight of your passionate dance, the sound only adding to the intensity of the moment.

"Cmon, give it to me baby," he moans, your voice muffled by the pillow as your body arches off the bed. The pleasure is unbearable, a sweet agony that has you writhing under him. He's so deep inside you, filling you up in a way that nothing else ever could. Your toes curl, your nails dig into the mattress as he hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"D-Daddy, I-I'm-"

"Let it out, baby," he growled, his own need clear in his voice. He grabbed your thighs, pushing them apart wider as he drove into you with a ferocity that sent you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body trembling and shaking with the force of it. Your muffled screams filled the room, the pillow doing little to hide the raw passion of the moment.

As the intensity of your climax began to subside, you felt him tense above you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes searched yours, looking for permission, for the green light to let go of his own control. You nodded, your body still pulsing with pleasure.

"Good girl," he murmured before pulling the pillow from your face and capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded yours, mimicking the rhythm of his hips as he thrust into you one last time, his cock swelling and spilling his hot seed deep within your quivering walls. The feeling of him filling you up was almost too much to handle, but it only served to heighten the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When he finally pulled out, you felt empty and exposed, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure. He leaned over to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing the tender flesh as his hand found your clit, sending a jolt through your system. "You're so beautiful when you come," he whispered, his voice hoarse with his own release.

"T-Thank you…" you managed to murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. Hongjoong pulled out of you gently, his cock leaving you with a feeling of emptiness that was almost painful. He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with exertion, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"Let's go clean you up."

[winterswift]

can we pretend?

pairing: bob reynolds x f! reader.

summary: when you asked bob to pretend to be your fake boyfriend, you had no idea you'd fall so hard for him.

word count: 4,4k.

tags: fake relationship, pining, this is sort of grumpy x sunshine, except that instead of grumpy, he is shy and introverted. he fell first AND harder, mentions of y/n, a lot of fluff, sentry makes his appearance (kind of).

—there are mentions of a man harassing the reader but nothing overly excessive.

a/n: english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes. this took longer than i expected, but i'm happy with the end product. the fake relationship trope is one of my faves, and i was quite excited to use it in a Bob fic. i hope you like it :).

Bob couldn't help but observe you. He didn't intend to do it; he was meant to be reading, but the sound of your voice distracted him. There was a man nearby, possibly too close to be regarded proper.

You did not appear to be comfortable; your body was rigid and your eyes darted around in search of an escape. Every time he approached closer, you took a step back.

He understood how it felt because he felt the same way with practically everyone. But he wasn't used to seeing you like this; you used to be confident, a ray of sunshine whose demeanor didn't quite suit with the grim New Avengers. He didn't like seeing you like that, small and insecure, almost afraid.

He felt compelled to do something, but he wasn't the sort to harm, so he waited. When the man left and you breathed a sigh of relief, he continued his reading. He pretended he hadn't noticed your footsteps approaching.

“Bob!" you exclaimed. You were overjoyed to see him; normally, no one reacts that way when they meet him. Except for you. "I was looking for you."

You settle next to him with a huff, your cherry smell overwhelming his senses. He adored your perfume but would never express it aloud. "I need to ask you a favor," you said, blushing as if embarrassed.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired, anticipating that you would want a book, as you occasionally did.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend." He almost didn't understand you because you spoke so fast. He gazed at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Please!" you begged, anxiously. "I'd do anything for you. I will buy you anything you want, but please say yes."

He wasn't sure it was a good idea; he wasn't exactly boyfriend material, but seeing your eyes almost to tears, he couldn't turn you down. Not if you looked at him like that.

"F-fine," he agreed, hesitantly.

You let out an enthusiastic giggle and threw yourself into his arms with such vigor that you nearly knocked him off the couch. He gave you a few pats on the back before pulling away.

He wasn't used to that type of affection, especially after what had taken place in New York, but that was just how you were, warm and dazzling. You didn't appear concerned that he would use his powers on you.

"Thank you so much, seriously, it means a lot to me," you stammered. "It's just for a couple of days, until that guy stops bothering me. I've told him several times that I don't want to go out with him, but he will not take no for an answer. I'm desperate.”

He was enraged at the thought of someone making you uncomfortable; he told himself that he would pay more attention to that man and would not allow him to get near you. He may not have been the most intimidating member of the team, but he was confident he could get him off your back.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." Your thankful smile made it all worthwhile.

He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.

The following days went by normally, but Bob noted the small changes. You appeared to want to spend more time with him; nothing was overstated; you simply sat next to him at breakfast and smiled. Sometimes you'd sit next to him as he read.

You never interrupted him because you were too gentle for that; instead, you remained by his side as a warm and soothing presence. You never compelled him to speak, you never exceeded his space; you were simply present. He appreciated it.

He began to feel safe by your side, not that he hadn't before, but that he did so more frequently.

It was one of those days when they simply existed next to each other that you started a conversation.

"Bob," you called, and he noticed your soft tone. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I know I practically forced you to say yes, but you may always decline. I don't want to make you uncomfortable; if you don't want to, I can ask someone else if-”

He had noticed that you spoke too quickly when you were nervous, which he found very adorable.

"No!" stopped you, and he grimaced instantly, realizing he had sounded overly enthusiastic."It doesn't bother me; if I hadn't wanted it, I would have said no. It's fine, really.”

That was only half the truth; it wasn't that he couldn't say no; rather, he couldn't say no to you.

“Good,” you replied with a relieved smile. "Thank you again; you really help me a lot."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he told you with a little smile. "Did you see him again?"

"No, I've been avoiding the places he usually goes," you answered, visibly annoyed. "I know he comes a couple of times a week, but I'm not sure when."

"Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on it," he assured you.

Bob kept his promise to her. The next day, he had asked Yelena for a list of everyone who worked for Valentina. The former assassin lifted her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing.

It took him some time to find him, but there he was. His name was Daniel, and he worked on the tower's repairs. None of the workers were permitted to enter the floor where they lived, but this man seemed to disregard the rules in order to come closer to you.

Daniel had not returned to the tower, but that did not prevent him from staying near to you. It was embarrassing how closely he followed you like a lost puppy, but he wanted to guarantee your safety.

He didn't see him until a week later, when he was bothering you again. As you attempted to distance yourself from him, your face flushed with discomfort.

"Come on, beautiful, just one date," he urged, smiling condescendingly. Bob had a brilliant gleam in his eyes before approaching you.

You saw a tiny shift in his posture: his steps were firmer, and his hands were no longer fidgeting. His eyes no longer avoided you; they focused on you with such intensity that you blushed.

He approached you with a smile, standing next to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

"Hello, darling," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You attempted to hide your amazement; Bob had never been so affectionate with you, and even though you had technically asked for it, you had no idea how to react. "And who are you?"

Daniel swallowed hard, clearly intimidated. "I'm a friend of Y/N," he explained, shaking his hand. "Daniel."

Bob grasped his hand harder than needed. "How strange, she never mentioned you," he said, smiling. "I'm Robert, her boyfriend."

You tried to disguise a smile by hiding your face in his shoulder. You didn't realize Bob could be that petty.

Both enjoyed Daniel's annoyed expression; from that perspective, they appeared to be a loving couple. Nobody would assume they rarely touched hands.

"I don't want to take up more of your time, Daniel," you said. "See you later."

You instantly grabbed Bob's arm and pulled him out of the room. You did not want to spend any more time with that man. You spoke once you had gotten far enough away.

"That was incredible!" you exclaimed, laughing. "Did you see his face?"

Bob's shyness emerged at that moment. "Yeah, I hope that keeps him away from you."

"I hope so," you sighed. "Thank you, Bob."

He grinned at you, with a lovely blush on his cheeks. You wanted to express your gratitude for everything he was doing for you, so an idea began to shape in your thoughts.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" you said. The glitter in his eyes revealed the answer.

You led him to a new café that had opened a few blocks from the tower. When you heard out it was a cat café, you immediately felt Bob would enjoy it.

And you were not mistaken.

His smile when a kitten approached him warmed your heart. Bob surrounded by kittens was not an image you wanted to forget.

You took care of his order, and when you returned with two coffees, he was holding a little cat against his chest. You snapped a picture before he could resist.

"What are you doing?" he asked you.

"You two looked too adorable," you said with a smile. "I couldn't help it."

Bob shook his head with a smile, rebellious strands of hair fell over his eyes. You wanted to tuck it behind his ears, but you lacked the courage.

Both of them drank their coffees silently; you didn't want to press the conversation, and Bob was distracted with the kittens. You were astonished when he talked first.

"Can I ask you something?" You nodded slightly to encourage him to speak.

"Why me?" he questioned. "Why did you choose me?"

The question threw you off; choosing him felt natural, even instinctual. Furthermore, you did not want to confess that he was perfectly your type.

You inhaled deeply. "Because you are a good man, Bob. You are sweet and gentle, and you know how to listen to others. You make them feel seen. Not to mention that you're handsome," you admitted. "Who wouldn't want to have you as a boyfriend?"

You blushed beneath his gaze; he gazed at you as if you were the sun peeking out from behind the storm, as if you were something that only happens once in a lifetime. Doubt appeared in his eyes; he didn't believe the sincerity of your remarks, but you were speaking from the heart.

When he saw you weren't going to change your mind, he smiled at you; it wasn't exaggerated or overly bright. It was a warm smile, the type that brings out people's beauty and makes you want to get closer to them.

You wanted to be close to Bob.

Something shifted between you two that day, an unsaid understanding, an invisible string forming between you. A gravitational pull that neither of them could resist.

But not everything is perfect.

What about their little getaway? It was the cover of every magazine at the time. Their faces and furtive smiles had been shot, revealing the intimacy of the moment to everyone.

Valentina had something to say about it.

The woman showed up in the tower with a stomach-churning smile. You didn't like the glow in her eyes, and your body was screaming at you to get away from there.

Bob and you exchanged perplexed looks when she threw a magazine at you that had you on the cover.

"My little superhero lovers, I wanted to speak to you.”

They were certainly in big trouble.

You approached Bob, unintentionally seeking the reassurance his presence brought. Valentina must have noticed their fearful expressions when she spoke to them.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry," didn't help them relax. "In fact, this is perfect. Two Avengers in love is just the type of PR we need right now. People enjoy good romance.”

You shifted uncomfortably; you two were not even dating. You would not be in that position if you hadn't made that idiotic request.

"But we don't—" you attempted to say.

"I don't care if you love each other or barely tolerate each other," she exclaimed, frustrated. "I need you to sell it to the public. Next Friday, there will be a charity gala; I need both of you to attend and be the perfect pair. Mel will send your outfit within a few days.”

Both attempted to object, but a single glance from the woman hushed them. "I'm not asking you. Do not fail.”

With that, she went out the door.

"I'm sorry, Bob," you apologized instantly. "This is my fault, I should have realized they were taking pictures of us. You don't have to go; I can tell Valentina that this was entirely my idea, and-"

"Hey, Y/N, breathe," Bob interrupted you, holding your hands. It's not anyone's fault; besides, I agreed to do this, remember? We're now a team, and I'm not going to leave you alone.”

Your frown softened as he spoke; he always manages to calm you down.

"What about the party?"

"We just have to show up there, I think I can survive a party," he told you. "Only if you go with me."

"Deal done," you said with a smile.

It was the night before the gala and you couldn't sleep, the mattress sank uncomfortably under your weight, the sheets that wrapped around you made you feel suffocated. Every time you closed your eyes, thousands of scenarios where everything went wrong began to emerge.

You took a couple of breaths, trying to calm the rapid beats of your heart. You couldn't help but feel anxious; generally, the public events you attended never ended well.

You began to reflect on the previous several weeks, thinking about how the situation had slid out of your grasp. You hated yourself for doing this to Bob.

Bob had been nothing but kind to you, and he chose to help you even though it was not his responsibility. Bob who gazed at you as if you had hung the moon and stars for him.

You had no idea what to deal with those feelings, and you never expected to feel anything for him. Of course, he was always handsome to you, but a relationship required more than just that.

And yet, there you were. Unable to resist your heart's longing for him.

You wanted to be the one who made him laugh out loud and earned his trust. You wanted to see the gorgeous blush that appeared on his cheeks whenever someone complimented him, and you wanted him to take you in his arms and never let you go.

However, he most likely did not feel the same way. You were sure that Bob was too kind to reject you, if you had the courage to declare your feelings and stop pretending.

Soft knocks on your door distracted you from your thoughts, and you reluctantly got up, wondering who was calling you at such a late hour.

Bob's blue eyes gleamed when he saw you, his hair was ruffled, and the deep black circles under his eyes made him appear exhausted. You raised an eyebrow when you saw the pillow he was holding under his arm.

It seemed that you had called him with your thoughts.

"Sorry," his scratchy voice from sleep made you shudder. "I didn't want to wake you, it's just that I couldn't sleep and didn't know what else to do."

You gave him a slight smile before opening the door. It was Bob's first time in your room, and he couldn't help but notice every single detail that made the space yours.

"Don't worry," you murmured, gesturing to the mess of blankets that composed your bed. "I couldn't sleep either."

Bob gave a tiny mumble of understanding; he was too nervous to say anything. Your scent was everywhere, and it was driving him insane.

You stifled a yawn as you took his hand and dragged him to bed. Bob followed you with unsteady feet, and the sight of you with tired eyes and a soft-looking pajama made his heart race.

They lay down with a good gap between them, but after a few minutes, you couldn't help but desire to be closer to him. You moved around, placed your head on his shoulder, and rested your arm on his stomach. You let out a relieved sigh as you felt the warmth of his body on yours.

Bob remained completely still; it was the closest they had ever been. Your breath tickled his skin. He lovingly enveloped you in his arms, and you almost fell asleep immediately.

He noticed your serene expression, the contour of your nose, your slightly parted lips, and how you clung to him. Unconsciously, he began to touch your hair, finding it difficult to understand that someone could feel secure with him.

"Y/N," he muttered, afraid to wake you. You made a sound that resembled an response. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," you sighed. "I don't trust Valentina's intentions, and it's my first time attending a gala with a partner. Well, you are not actually my boyfriend, but for them—"

Bob's laughter interrupted you. "I got it," he said, smiling at you. "To be honest, it's the first time I've attended an event like this. So I'm nervous, too."

Your fingers intertwined with his, and your thumb caressed his knuckles. "Don't worry, they'll love you," you remarked in a sleepy voice.

"It's not their opinion that matters to me," he murmured, but you were already asleep.

Bob let out a defeated sigh and closed his eyes. He instantly fell asleep with you beside him.

When you awoke the next morning, your bed was empty, but you were holding a pillow that did not belong to you.

They both ignored one other all morning, they were embarrassed and too frightened to engage in normal conversation. And the team's relentless taunting of you did not help.

Since they discovered you were in a "relationship," the comments haven't stopped; they never miss a chance to make you blush with their words.

So you decided to hide in your room until it was time to go to the party; however, you still needed to prepare.

You took your time showering and perfuming your body; Valentina had hired numerous people to do your makeup and hairstyle, so you didn't have to worry about it.

The makeup enhanced your looks; they applied an eye shimmer to you that complimented your clothing and made your glance appear more alluring. Your hair was done with gentle waves that cascaded down your back.

You couldn't help but huff at the color of the dress, yet it was still perfect for you. Valentina did her best.

The cloth was comfortable and hugged each curve of your body. It truly made you feel beautiful.

They gave you matching shoes and jewelry, and once you'd completed changing, you glanced in the mirror. You took a deep breath, attempting to settle your nerves. You needed to think that everything would be alright.

You strode down the hallway with your head held high, attempting to radiate confidence. Bob was probably waiting for you in the common area, so you increased your pace.

You spotted him before he noticed you. You were left breathless.

He was dressed in a black suit that appeared to be tailor-made, fitting perfectly around his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. His hair was slicked back with gel, and you were surprised to see that he hadn't shaved; his stubble appealed to you.

He spotted you at that very moment. You gave him a little smile when you saw his open mouthed expression.

His gaze swept over your body, admiring how the dress highlighted your beauty, hugged your physique, and made you appear like a goddess descending to earth.

"Golden?" he inquired with a playful smile, admiring the hue of your garment.

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'm supposed to be Sentry's girlfriend, with the power of a thousand suns, blah blah," you stated as you approached him. "I had to match, you know?"

"What-what are you doing?" he stammered as you placed your palms against his chest.

"You have your tie crooked," you said, removing the knot with ease. Bob held his breath as you completed your assignment. "Done."

"Easy, Bob, I don't bite," you winked. He murmured something you didn't understand before offering his arm to let you start your way to the door.

"Let's get out of here."

The venue was full, and the sound of so many voices mingling assaulted your ears. You gripped Bob's arm a little tighter.

He was equally nervous, his body shivering slightly against your side. You felt compelled to soothe him, so you entwined your fingers with his and gently squeezed them.

You moved closer, your lips brushing across his ear. "Breathe. We're in this together."

He offered you a faint, strained smile, but it was enough for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, warm and firm, as you both entered the building.

All eyes were on you, the star-crossed lovers, as Valentina had described you. Something about you grabbed attention: your silent complicity, the way you orbited one other, and your inability to stop looking at each other.

Nobody would ever suspect it was a meticulously planned performance. Or that's what they wanted to believe, but you knew some things couldn't be faked.

Bob let you lead the discussions, watching with interest as you enchanted others with your charm. He only spoke when necessary because he still struggled with social interactions. Instead, he remained by your side, always with you.

He hadn't missed the looks some men gave you, so he made certain they knew you weren't alone. That someone was looking after you, even if he was aware you didn't need it.

The night flew by as you both approached the bar for a drink. The lights had darkened, and there were a few couples dancing. You had a small grin on your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, as if you wanted to dance but didn't dare to ask.

Bob didn't want to pass up the opportunity, even though he didn't like the thought of so many people watching him. He extended his hand to you in a subtle invitation. You could barely conceal your surprise.

"Come on," he said, guiding you onto the dance floor. You restrained a smile.

"I didn't know you liked to dance," you joked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and drawing closer to him.

“I'm a terrible dancer," both of them began to sway to the beat of the music. "But it would be a crime not to dance with you."

“Smooth" you chuckled as he spun you around. "Thank you, you are the perfect partner."

When he glanced at you, his eyes had a golden shine in them, but you didn't say anything; you just smiled and put your forehead on his shoulder. That simple act of confidence touched Bob's heart.

Your hair tickled his chin, and your perfume dulled his senses. Your skin felt warm where his hands touched you, and the steady ebb and flow of your breath helped him stay grounded.

He genuinely wanted to kiss you, but he didn't dare. Not there, not where they were exposed to the eyes of others. So they continued to dance, till their feet hurt.

And when you were bored of the music and the people, you proposed leaving. It wasn't your first time attending an event in that building; you were familiar with the space and knew you had to show Bob the view from the terrace.

You led him along the empty hallways, hands clasped and bursting into little giggles of hardly restrained joy. You could feel the excitement in the air, the expectation of what could happen.

The cool night air sent shivers down your spine, as you walked closer to the balcony to take in the view; you'd always enjoyed seeing the city at night.

"Isn't it beautiful?" you stated, feeling Bob's warmth next to you but not taking your gaze away from the city.

"It is," he said, staring at you.

Bob took advantage of your distraction to look at you, noting the way the moonlight reflected on your features, the sparkle in your eyes, and every mole and freckle on your skin. He gazed at you as if he wanted to remember you forever.

You were heartbreakingly beautiful, and it took his breath away. And, God, he loved you with such devotion that even the worst parts of himself yearned for you.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your fingertips gently brushing against his knuckles. "I hope tonight wasn't too much for you."

He shook his head slightly. "It was...fine. I had fun, how about you?”

"I always have fun when I'm with you, Bob," you remarked, smiling sweetly.

His heart raced, and he knew he needed to kiss you. He couldn't leave the night without trying the taste of your lips.

"I've wanted to do something all night," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The intimacy in his tone caused you to lean closer to him.

"Oh, really?" you inquired with bright eyes. "What is it?"

"This," he said, and then he kissed you.

He kissed you desperately, like a beast eager for you, as if he wanted to take every breath that left your lips and claim it for his own.

He claimed your lips as if they were all he needed to survive. And perhaps it was.

His fingers trembled as he grabbed your waist, not out of nerves or fear, but out of barely restrained despair. For the desire to explore your skin.

The world melted away under his touch, the sound of the city scarcely audible in your ears; on that lonesome terrace, only he and you existed.

Your lungs burned, but you didn't want to let go, so you clutched to him tighter, wrinkling the neck of his shirt with your fingers. Bob's arms gripped you securely, and you knew he wasn't going to let you go either.

Your heart raced as his darker eyes met yours, he placed his forehead to yours. They remained motionless for a minute, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing.

You let out a giggle. “God, I like you so much. I'm glad I asked you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Bob laughed, and his chest vibrated against yours. "Yeah, maybe we should change that," he told you. "What do you think? Do you want to be my girlfriend? This time, for real."

"I would love to," you smiled, sealing your words with a kiss.

Asking him to pretend to go out with you was the best decision you'd made. And as for Daniel, let's just say your boyfriend made it clear to him that you were no longer available.

thanks for reading!

[jlle-marie]

THE SWEETEST SIN — levi x fem!reader

⪼ please mind the tags: age gap (levi early 40s / reader early 20s), levi is your dad’s best friend, power imbalance, mention of alcohol, slight food play (whipped cream), teasing, dry humping (semi public), mdni. WC: 2.8k

⪼ sum: A friendly dinner with your parents’ longtime friends. Among them is Levi — your dad’s best friend, and someone you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It’s been a while since you last saw him. Now you’re sitting on his lap, what could possibly go wrong?

for levi week day 6: dry humping | crossposted to ao3 | my event masterlist | part two ᰔ

A light breeze finally cools the thick, warm air of the day, and for the first time tonight, it feels like you can breathe again. Your dress flows around your thighs as you make your way back to Levi through the garden. He’s exactly where you left him minutes ago, sitting alone at the long garden table, now mostly cleared after dinner.

His white dress shirt is still crisp despite the heat, tucked neatly into dark slacks. Sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. With one leg crossed over the other, he’s the picture of elegance and composure — just like always. It’s annoying how devastatingly good he looks just sitting there.

Faint sounds drift from your house behind you. Music, tipsy laughter, clinking of dishes. Everyone else has moved inside or already left. Most of them aren’t in condition to even think about dessert anyway. Levi isn’t one of them. He’s had just as much to drink as the others, if not more — yet looks barely affected. That kind of control over his body you’ve always found both impossibly attractive and frustrating.

You’d noticed during the meal, how often he refilled his glass and brought it to his lips. More than you remembered him ever drinking.

You couldn’t help yourself. The dinner had been long and dull. You wouldn’t have come at all, if not for Levi. It had been nearly a year since you last saw him; to your dismay, school had taken you far from him. But tonight, you hadn’t been the only one stealing glances—he’d been meeting your eyes across the table all night.

You, on the other hand, had a few drinks. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to make you feel bold.

“No one wanted dessert…” you say softly as you reach him. “So I guess it’s just us.”

Levi glances up. His eyes meet your hazy, beaming expression, realizing instantly this is exactly the kind of situation he should avoid. The kind that only leads to crossing lines.

Then his gaze drops to the small cup in your hands, a generous swirl of whipped cream, with a glint of red peaking through—strawberries, probably. A faint frown tugs at his brows despite himself but it’s not just the dessert that’s troubling him.

“I’ll taste some.” His voice is a little dry, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should. He leans back in his chair, reaching for the bowl like he’s expecting you to hand it to him.

But that’s not what you have in mind.

Before he knows it, he feels your weight settle onto his lap. One knee on either side of his thighs, you straddle him without hesitation, forcing him to uncross his legs in a rush.

“Sweetheart-” he chokes out, the nickname slipping too easily, too naturally. The same one he used when you were younger, trailing after him all the time.

Still, he hates himself for saying it right now. It already feels wrong, too intimate, too loaded. He isn’t sure he even has the right to call you that anymore.

His hands instinctively find your hips, ready to lift you off.

But he doesn’t.

“What are you doing?”

His voice is lower now, rougher. Confusion flickers in his usually impassive eyes as they search yours. His gaze drops to the hem of your dress, bunched awkwardly, high over your thighs. Soft skin pressing warm against either side of him.

“I just missed you so much,” you coo, smiling down at him, one hand trailing up his forearm. “It’s been a while.”

It’s already undoing him. He shouldn’t be letting this happen. He shouldn’t allow you to talk to him like that—not when you’ve been drinking, not when you’re this close, not when he can feel the heat of your body through his clothes. He should pull you away. stop it before it goes any further.

“That’s not a reason to-”

“Come on, Levi,” you interrupt him, voice light and teasing. “Just taste.”

“Don’t,” he warns.

But it’s already done. Your hand slips from his arm, drifting toward the bowl. A soft swirl of whipped cream clings to your finger when you lift it again.

His reflexes are faster. His fingers close firmly around your wrist, stopping you just before your fingers reach his lips. He isn’t pushing you away, not exactly, but he’s not letting you move either.

“Did you even wash your hands?” he mutters, gaze flicking from your eyes to your finger, then back again.

You laugh, but it’s softer now.

“Are you really that scared of me?” you ask, innocent. Almost. But you’re not hiding it completely. You want more. For once in your life, you want to know just how far he’ll let you go.

Levi hesitates a moment longer. Telling himself it isn’t what it feels like. That it’s just one of your antics. Not sexual, it shouldn’t be sexual. But your hips are settled low, so low against him, your weight pressing down in the most dangerous way.

He exhales slowly through his nose. He needs to think about something else.

Then he leans in.

The moment his mouth closes around your finger, your whole body reacts. A warm feeling blooms between your legs as his tongue slides over your skin—slow, methodical. His eyes never leave yours. When he pulls back, his tongue catches the last of the cream from the side of your finger.

“Tastes fine,” he says gruffly, like that explains everything.

But your gaze lingers on his lips, your heart pounding in your chest. Your body is too aware of him. The heat between your legs doesn’t fade, it simmers there.

“You’re staring,” he points out, knowing you can’t deny it.

Your eyes finally flick up to meet his. Grey eyes staring back at you.

“You stared at me too,” you murmur, dipping your finger back into the bowl. “I saw you.”

You see him smirking just faintly. “You imagined things.”

“I didn’t.”

His hand lifts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear with such care it makes your skin prickle. It gives you the courage to insist. “You looked at me like I wasn’t the same.”

It hits him. You see it in the way he swallows hard and in the silence that follows.

He can’t let you start looking for something in him. Not approval, not affection. Not him.

“Did you miss me too?”

Your finger rises to your own lips, tasting the cream from the same place his mouth just was. And he watches, of course he does.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he finally says, trying to play it off but doesn’t even deny it.

You reach again, gathering a more generous swirl this time and he doesn’t stop you. Your finger comes close and he doesn’t move, just watching you smile.

The cream smears over the corner of his mouth and trails lightly down his chin. He frowns, parting his lips in surprise, but doesn’t complain.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mutters, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

“You look kind of appetizing like this.” You laugh, giddy, words tumbling out before you can overthink them. “Let me help you.”

You lean in, close enough to kiss the cream off his skin, close enough that you settle a little heavier in his lap.

But that’s not what he notices most.

Your breasts press into his chest. You’re not wearing a bra—something he noticed at dinner and tried very hard not to think about. But now there’s no escaping it. No escaping your warmth, the way your nipples shamelessly graze his shirt.

He has to close his eyes. He feels too much of you, he feels everything. One of his hands slides instinctively to the small of your back, pretending he’s just steadying you. Not pulling you closer.

Your lips brush his skin, not quite a kiss, just your tongue flicking the sweetness away. But it’s the first time your mouth has touched his. And you can’t think straight. His scent, his breath, his hands—you’re dizzy from how close he is, from the line you’re crossing.

You’re already bracing to be pushed away.

But instead, that’s when you feel him, really feel him.

A hard, growing pressure beneath you. Thick, straining against the fabric of his pants. The realization makes you gasp. Your body stills—but your back arches instinctively, pressing down into him before you can stop yourself.

“Problem?” he murmurs. Far too composed for the heat that just surged between you.

You don’t answer right away. Heart pounding hard, the ache between your legs has turned sharp, nearly unbearable without friction. For a moment the only sound is your shallow breathing.

“You’re big like this all the time,” you wonder aloud, half-curious, half-teasing, “or just for me?”

Levi’s eyes snap open. He stares at you like you’ve just committed a crime, like he can’t believe you had the nerve to say that.

“Alright, that’s enough. Get off my lap.”

His fingers pinch your waist, but the other hand hasn’t moved from your hip. Still anchoring you to him, contradicting his words.

It’s enough to make you squirm. A soft, involuntary roll of your hips against him. The friction makes everything impossible to ignore. You feel him clearly now, the hard outline of his cock pressing up into you through his pants.

His eyes squeeze shut, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound of how good it already feels on his cock.

You pull back just enough to see his face. Lashes low, jaw tight. Barely a breath between you. Then you move again, without waiting for permission. This time watching how he feels it.

He exhales sharply through his nose, snatches the bowl from your hand, and sets it aside blindly. Within seconds his hands are back on you.

Firmer now, finding your waist. Thumbs grazing just beneath the swell of your breasts. Guiding you to the rhythm he’s letting happen now.

He’s not supposed to want this. Not with you. Not like this.

But he doesn’t loosen his grip.

If anything, it tightens as slow, filthy grinds make your cunt drag perfectly over his length. Each circle of your hips pulls your clit across the thick ridge of his cock, pressure building with every movement.

The friction. The heat. The pressure—it’s intoxicating. You brace your hands on his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Trying to ground yourself.

You feel his attention split.

“Levi…” you whisper, needy and already breathless.

His gaze flicks towards the open windows behind you, some remnants of instincts still alive despite the haze. But you cup his cheek, coaxing his attention back to your face. Needing him all to yourself.

“No,” you murmur, grinding down harder on purpose. “Don’t look away from me.”

His eyes snap back to yours.

“You want my attention?” he rasps. “You’ve got it.”

He watches you move, working yourself over him, unashamed. Your dress hides the worst of it, but not enough. Not the way your thighs tremble. Not the sway of your breasts, free beneath the flimsy fabric.

He shouldn’t look.

But his gaze is locked there anyway.

The neckline slips lower with each slow roll of your hips. He sees the curve of your chest, the way your nipples catch the light—teasing him, begging for his mouth.

His thumbs twitch where they rest beneath your breasts, like he wants to reach higher but stops himself. Wants to drag your dress down and bury his face there.

Fuck.

His cock throbs at the thought. He groans, head tipping back.

And then, he snaps.

His hips jerk up into you, once, then again, hard and desperate. The pace shifts instantly. His grip bruises into your hips as he drags you down against him, letting your moans break free, uncontrolled.

He sets the rhythm now, lets the wet heat of you smear over his aching cock, separated by too little layers.

“You make me feel so good,” you gasp, your voice barely audible, mouth brushing his but never kissing.

You’re soaked.

Your panties are useless now — damp and clinging, doing nothing to shield him from how hot and wet you are.

He can feel it all, and worse — he knows you’re making a mess on him, marking him thoroughly. Right where his cock strains against his zipper, throbbing for more, for relief.

“Messy little thing,” he mutters.

But he’s not better.

He’s leaking too, a wet patch blooming across the front of his slacks, matching yours. And you must feel it, because you grind against it greedily, chasing more friction.

You tremble and whimper, burying your face in his neck like it’s too much, like you can’t take it anymore. He fists a hand in your hair and pulls you flush against him.

“Keep it quiet,” he breathes in your ear.

And you try, you really do.

But your lips keep catching on his skin. Your chest keeps dragging over his — nipples grazing him with every move. It’s unbearable. Every brush adds to the stimulation, feeding the ache between your legs and you’re too far gone to control anything in your body.

“I can feel all of you—fuck, it’s so big,” you whisper, not even thinking. “I don’t think you’d even fit…”

His cock throbs violently in the confined space of his pants.

He can’t let himself think about this, he felt guilty for even imagining it. How warm you’d be. How tight but how easily he would slide between your thighs—

“Don’t say shit like that,” he hisses, voice strained. “It’s not gonna happen.”

“But I’d let you anyway.” You sound lost, barely conscious of what you’re saying anymore. Half talking to yourself, half to him. There’s no teasing anymore, just craving him. “I’d do anything—if you asked, anything.”

It almost does it.

Almost makes him come just from that. And he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

He doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hips. Doesn’t notice the bruising pace his hands are setting, dragging your body back and forth without letting you do anything but take it. He’s too focused on not losing it, too focused on not making a mess of himself with you.

“Levi—Levi, I—”

That’s all you manage to say before it hits you.

Your whole body shudders, your thighs clamp tight around his. Soft, broken moans escape into the crook of his neck. Your hips stutter, but he doesn’t stop — he guides you through it. His touches are slower now, rubbing you through your release, helping you ride it out without allowing himself to come.

He doesn’t even move. But he shudders beneath you, just from the sheer feel of you unraveling in his lap. And he can feel you still pulsing, soaking him worse.

Your cheek is nestled in the warm curve of his neck. Your weight melts into him, trembling and pliant. Fingers still tangled in his shirt, clinging tight, not even realizing how desperately you’re still holding on.

Soft little tremors run through your thighs and hips, making you twitch against him. His cock still throbs painfully, trapped against your heat and it’s too much.

“Stop. Stop…” he rasps, voice low and breathless from the effort it takes to hold back. Just one more roll of your hips, one more little sound in his ear and he’ll stain his pants like a fucking teenager. “Stop movin’…”

He’s not even sure how long he can sit like this. But he makes no move to ease himself. He just keeps his hand tangled in your hair, the other running up and down your spine, not sure if he’s trying to soothe you or himself.

He needs to move you. He knows that. But you feel too good, too boneless and vulnerable in his arms, and he’s too weak to let you go just yet.

Pressed this close you can feel his chest rise and fall against yours with every heavy, stuttering breath. He’s still hard, aching — his body’s screaming for relief, the heat spreading in his pants is growing uncomfortable.

“I need to…” He inhales sharply through his nose. “Go inside. Just for a second.”

Your mind can barely process it, one second you’re in his arms when he stands up, the next you’re being lowered gently back into the chair.

You look up at him, dazed and blinking but still following his movements. His fingers tremble as he smooths down your dress over your thighs.

Then he straightens, adjusting himself just enough to hide the obvious bulge and wetness. His once crisp shirt is wrinkled now, buttons halfway undone from where your hands clung to him. And still, you swear you’ve never seen him look more beautiful.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Stay here.”

He’s already moving fast across the yard, toward the side door of your house, not daring to glance back at you. All he can do is pray no one sees him like this. Pray he can make it to the bathroom before losing it.

Because he would never disrespect his best friend like this. Never disrespect you.

It would never go further than that.

…Or maybe it will.

[sprenthecreator]

IMPURITIES EP. 2 | Kirisute Gomen

Male reader x Sakura x Male character

word count: 8.3k words

tags: anal, face fuck, spitroast, dp

━•✦•━•✦•━

━•✦•━•✦•━

For now, the incident in New York had remained just an anecdote; it hadn't affected your relationship with the girls, either positively or negatively. It had simply happened. Much of it was due to the fact that you were still on tour, and there was no time for trivial matters like that. «The show must go on». That's what you'd told yourself to avoid thinking about it.

Because if you were honest with yourself, every time you remembered that night, you got the urge to make it happen again. But your professionalism was stronger, as was your common sense. It wasn't you who should make that decision; it was them. And if they pretended for the moment that it hadn't happened, you would play along until they wanted it.

A week had passed since then. New York was followed by Washington, DC, and from there, the next stop was Atlanta. Your arrival had been at night. A relief for your body, as you were able to go straight to your room and sleep peacefully, with half your worries already resolved since you'd gotten ahead on your work during the trip.

But in the morning, the problems started.

You didn't know if it was the Atlanta air or something, but that morning everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Including the girls. You weren't a person who got angry easily, but by midday, you were already feeling at your limit. The venue staff were all idiots. All of them. Not one was spared. And if that weren't enough, there were countless problems at the sound check that tested you as a manager, both your patience and your aptitude.

It didn't end there. The hotel staff were also incompetent idiots, and they also caused you more than one damn unnecessary problem. The most incredible thing was the fact that they had made a mistake in the room reservation, and it turned out Kazuha's room belonged to someone else. It was a huge fucking mess. The person, understandably, was as pissed off as you were. But when you discovered it was actually the Ritz-Carlton's fault, they were forced to solve the problem for you as quickly as possible.

The next day, thank goodness, the problems were minimal. The venue staff had taken note of every technical detail you'd pointed out and resolved them. They were still rude jerks, but at least they did their jobs well. Everything went wonderfully during the concert: impeccable sound, impeccable stage, impeccable logistics, and impeccable performances.

"Good job, yeoreobun!" you said aloud as the backup dancers and the girls left the stage after the encore, handing out bottles of cold water from a small cooler.

Everyone accepted the bottles and headed backstage after removing their in-ear microphones and the heaviest parts of their outfits. You stayed behind for a moment, talking with the production technicians and the setup staff to get everything settled before leaving the area and going backstage with the girls.

There was still a good while until your departure, since you had to wait for the entire dismantling process to be completed and for the girls to change and eat their respective snacks for that evening, as you always did after each concert. You had gone off to discuss some pending matters with the staff, and when it was getting close to time to leave, you returned to the girls.

"Hey, it's time gi..." You noticed something was off as you entered. One, two, three, four... "Uhm... where the hell is Kura?"

They looked at each other, and the common expression was one of ignorance. Of course, knowing them, you couldn't trust them. They already had a history of covering for each other. But it's likely that wasn't the case, and that she was just in the bathroom or something.

"Get your things together. I'll go get her."

The venue was a little bigger than you'd have liked for a search. It was a facility designed for theater productions, so the backstage area had multiple dressing rooms of different sizes at different heights, with the ones on the second floor being the smallest. Downstairs, there was no one, not even in the bathrooms. You hoped that with so many people circulating, someone had seen her, but apparently Sakura had inherited ancient techniques from her ninja ancestors and had used them to vanish. It was too strange, and you were panicking a little. Not too much. Just a little.

Upstairs, things weren't much different. The person you were asking was the person who had never seen a 180cm Japanese girl, blonde, beautiful, and with a body to die for. And you no longer felt panic, but despair. Everything was empty. You only had one dressing room left, and you were already feeling like throwing in the towel and calling HYBE to get a scolding.

Desperate, you placed your hand on the doorknob and opened it. It was pitch black inside; the hallway light wasn't shining in due to the arrangement of the lamps. You squinted—purely out of instinct, not because it would make a difference—and felt along the right wall for a light switch. Nothing there, so you moved to the other one. This time you had better luck. When you flipped the switch, however, you instantly regretted it.

"Oh my fucking god," you sighed.

Sakura, who had previously been hiding very still in the darkness, was pressing her hands against the right wall, her plaid shirt on the floor and her baggy jeans halfway down. Adam, one of the backup dancers for the tour, was standing behind her with his hands on her tiny waist. The compromising position they were in automatically made your blood pressure rise.

"Adam, get lost," you ordered, pointing your thumb outward. "I know the idea wasn't yours."

Adam gave Sakura a nervous glance and let go of her to walk past you and out of the dressing room.

"Are you crazy or something?" you asked as passive-aggressively as you could, while Kura pulled up her pants and grabbed her shirt from the floor. "We're in a fucking public place. Have you lost your fucking mind?"

Kura snorted and rolled her eyes.

"It was just going to be a quickie!" Kura protested with a frown, walking toward you. "No need to make a big deal out of it."

You chuckled in disbelief.

"No?" You raised your eyebrows. "What do you think would have happened if someone other than me caught you? Like, I don't know, someone on the cleaning staff. Word will spread like a freshly lit fuse. Let alone if someone on the damn staff found out!"

"I know!" She snapped, palms down. "Have you ever thought about how I've felt this whole week? With so much fucking shit going on at once. I know my body! I know I need it because I'm a human being, and I need that kind of thing!"

"Kura, it's risky!" You unintentionally raised your voice a little. The stress was taking its toll on you.

"It's the only way!" Kura raised her voice back.

"And against the damn rules!"

Kura couldn't help but laugh as if you'd told a joke. You frowned in confusion as she raised her eyebrows at you.

"Against the rules? You can't be serious."

"I'm so damn serious, Sakura."

"I don't remember hearing you talking about rules last week, manager-nim," Kura took a step toward you, standing two feet away. "When you fucked Yunjin and Chaewonie. Or did you forget my room was next to yours?"

Shit. No, you hadn't forgotten. In fact, you'd been mulling over the matter all week. Anxious about the possibility that she'd heard absolutely everything. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy exhale.

"For God's sake, tell me Eunchae didn't hear anything," you said before opening your eyes again.

"She didn't; she went to her room early. But I did hear you," Kura took another small step closer to you. Now close enough to be able to see her eyes in detail. "Please forget your position and fuck me like I'm all yours," she mimicked Chaewon, with the same moans in between. Then she laughed.

Your cheeks grew hot.

"Sakura, that was a special case," you said, trying to pull your feet out of the mud. "They broke the rules first. They offered me to keep them out of trouble in exchange for..."

"Fucking them?" Kura finished the sentence for you. "You agreed. You could have easily said no, right?"

"Well..."

Kura placed a hand over your mouth and stared at you with those big, pretty eyes.

"You have no excuse," she said, then took her hand away from your mouth. "You deliberately decided to do it. It's your fault."

"Still, it doesn't make it right," you sighed. "I don't want what just happened to happen again, because next time it won't be someone as lenient as me who catches you."

Kura was silent for a moment, as if calculating her response.

"Well, I'm sorry to say, manager-nim, I might keep doing it," she said, and looked you up and down. "Unless, of course, you help me yourself."

For God's sake, not again.

"No fucking way," you shook your head and took a step back. "I won't fall for the same game twice."

Kura closed the distance again and grabbed you by the back of your neck.

"Would you rather be caught by someone I can't bribe?" she asked, tossing both strands of hair behind her shoulders and puffing out her chest so you could notice her beautiful tits beneath her white top. "Or would you rather be the one in charge of satisfying this tight little body?"

Your eyes dropped to her tits, beautiful beneath that tight top, and then to her toned abdomen, with two small moles next to her belly button. You were going fucking crazy.

"Kura..."

"Go ahead, touch."

Kura took your hand and placed it on her tummy. Still trying to resist the temptation, you didn't move your hand, just kept your fingers still as she had you rub her abdomen. Then she had you slowly raise your hand to place it on her right breast.

"Squeeze," Kura murmured.

"Sakura..." you repeated, wanting her to see reason. But from the convinced look in her eyes, you guessed it was too late.

"Squeeze, manager-nim," she insisted.

Against your own better judgment, you did so. But you didn't regret it. Her breast felt soft beneath your fingers, and with the first squeeze, you immediately gave it a second, slightly harder one. Kura's lips curved into a slight smile, and she lowered her own hand to the bulge in your pants to give it a gentle squeeze.

"Do you like it?" Kura asked, rubbing your cock up and down with the palm of her hand. "Well, if you want to have me all to yourself... you'll have to compete with Adam to see if you can fuck me better than him."

"You're in no position to set conditions, Miyawaki," you said, and released her breast. "I could just turn around, walk away, and pretend this didn't happen."

"You could, but you're not going to," Kura countered. "You don't want to. Besides, look how hard you are."

Kura removed her hand so you could see. Your bulge was prominent and hard, easy to notice since you were wearing sweatpants that day.

"Ah fuck," you groaned, annoyed. Sakura, isn't there a better way to solve this?"

"You want to nip this problem in the bud and prevent it from happening again, don't you?"

You pursed your lips, huffed, and stared up at the ceiling. For God's sake, what had you done to deserve such an insolent group of girls? It was as if they were competing to see who could test your patience the best and fastest.

"Your room or mine?"

Kura smiled.

"Mine. I'll tell the girls I'll be sleeping so no one comes near."

"You know Zuha's room is two rooms away, right?"

"That girl will be playing games or listening to music or something. She's the one you least need to worry about."

"Whatever. Let's get out of here. They're waiting for us."

You turned around, turned off the dressing room light, and left with Kura.

The excuse Kura had given the other girls—which you confirmed they indeed knew nothing about her escapade with Adam—was that she got lost in her search for a bathroom. You weren't sure how well the lie had gone down, but no one asked too many questions about it since the venue was large enough to be believable.

You arrived back at the hotel around 10 p.m.

"Girls, please make sure you get enough sleep," you said as you entered the lobby. "The flight to Dallas is early in the morning, and I don't want to see any bags under your eyes. The good thing is that in Dallas you'll have two days off."

The girls nodded without much protest, happy to sleep early since they were visibly exhausted. They went straight up to their rooms, while you stayed behind helping the staff unload things from the vans. From there, you went up as well and took a quick shower before heading to Kura's room.

Outside, right in front of her door, you took a moment to think carefully about what you were going to do. You had allowed yourself to get carried away with Yunjin and Chaewon because specific circumstances had arisen and it was practically impossible for you to refuse the seduction of those two vipers, but now you had time to think about it.

But as you did, you couldn't stop thinking about how good Kura's breast felt under your hand, and how firm and tight her tummy was.

Fuck it. You only live once. And you were already horny.

You knocked on the door twice.

"Come in!" Kura said after a few seconds.

You opened the door, and upon entering, your mouth immediately watered. On the couch directly across from the door and by the window, Kura was lying on her side, in nothing but a pretty cream-colored bra and panty lace set. Every corner of her body was insane: wide hips, tiny waist, beautiful legs, toned tummy, and even nicer tits.

"Hello, manager-nim," Kura said in a seductive tone, leaning on her elbow with her cheek resting on her hand. "Come here. Adam should arrive any moment."

Kura sat up and waited for you to sit next to her before straddling your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck, and crashing her lips against yours, not even giving you time to say or do anything.

As your lips became entangled in a fiery exchange of saliva that didn't cause you the slightest remorse, you left your hands on her small waist and gripped your fingers there. Kura ground her hips against you, rubbing herself against your growing bulge. Her right hand moved up to the nape of your neck and stroked the hair there, then slid both hands to your shoulders. Your cock hardened beneath her, and Kura placed a hand on your chest, lowering it and inserting it inside your sweatpants and boxers, firmly grasping your cock between her fingers to rub it.

"Hmm, you're already throbbing for me, manager-nim," Kura moaned against your lips. "I'm going to undress you. Can I undress you?"

"At this point, do whatever you want, Miyawaki," you replied.

Kura slipped her hand from inside your pants and used both hands to pull your hoodie over your head and off. She then climbed off your lap as you took off your shoes, and knelt on the floor between your knees to remove both your sweatpants and boxers. Her round eyes shone like two beautiful street lights in winter as she freed your cock.

"Oh wow," Kura gasped, and planted her mouth on the back of your cock to kiss and lick all the way to the tip. "You're bigger than you look, manager-nim."

"And you're sluttier," you countered.

Kura smiled, wrapped two fingers around the base of your cock, and swirled her tongue around the tip a few times while looking into your eyes.

"You're right about that," she said. "I may be small and nerdy, but I love a good cock in my mouth and in my pussy. Especially in my pussy."

With that, Kura took you into her mouth, moaning as she took the first few inches between her lips until she reached your midsection. Then she began pumping her head at a slightly rapid pace, pulling you out of her mouth every few seconds to lick and kiss around your tip. As the seconds passed, she sped up, until she was slurping saliva from your shaft.

"Mmm, you're delicious," Kura gasped, moving her hand down your cock and spreading her saliva over it. "Would you help me with my underwear, manager-nim?"

She didn't need to say much more before you stood up, took her hands, and helped her stand up. You wrapped an arm around her waist and laid her down on the bed. You positioned yourself on top of her and intertwined her hands with yours, planting kisses on her neck. From there, you moved wet kisses down her collarbone, and when you reached her breasts, you slid your hands under her back to unclasp her bra and free her very, very pretty breasts.

Without her prompting, you took one of them to your mouth. Kura gasped and placed both hands on your head. She twisted strands of your hair around her fingers, gently tugging as you swirled your tongue around her nipple. Moving to her other breast, you took as much of it into your mouth as you could and sucked on it, licking her hard nipple with the tip of your tongue. Kura, aroused, shifted subtly beneath you, arching her back and grinding against your body.

When you left a trail of saliva on each breast, you allowed yourself to move down to her tummy. Her tight, attractive, firm tummy. Kura moaned when you pressed your lips there and showered it with kisses you were sure you enjoyed more than her. You held her by the waist, moving your kisses down to her lower abdomen and moving closer to where the skin parted with the fabric of her panties, which you grabbed by the hem and slowly pulled down her legs.

"Are you going to eat my pussy, manager-nim?" Kura asked, a finger on her lower lip. "Adam isn't here yet. This is your perfect opportunity to get a little advantage."

"Say no more then."

You took Kura's legs behind her knees and spread them side to side. In front of your face, her beautiful pussy was glistening with wetness. It looked like a real delight, and you didn't hesitate for a second to plant your mouth there and taste it.

The sweet moan Kura emitted when you began licking and kissing between her soft folds sweetened your hearing. Her pussy was delicious. Instantly addictive. You breathed deeply, letting your hunger for her take over so that she would love every second you spent eating her pussy. Within seconds, the room was filled with moans from the petite Japanese girl, who had one hand stroking your hair and the other on her own breast.

"Fuck, you're incredible, manager-nim," Kura moaned, squirming her hips as you gave her clit quick licks.

Your only response was to keep going, looking up every few seconds to watch as you made her melt with pleasure. Kura gave you a harder tug, and she arched her back as you pressed her thighs back and attacked the sensitive spots her moans indicated.

"Right there," Kura sighed, her thigh muscles tensing beneath your fingers. "Oh yes, yes!"

Kura tightened her fingers in your hair and pressed you even harder against her pussy, practically suffocating you against it. Seconds ticked by, and she began to tremble. Until with a loud moan, Kura closed her thighs on either side of your head, arched her back, and came in a series of spasms that gave you an immense satisfaction.

And just then, three knocks were heard at the door.

Kura's thighs moved away from your head, allowing you to lift it. Kura turned sideways to face the door.

"Adam?" Kura asked aloud.

"Who else could it be at this hour?" Adam replied from the other side of the door.

"Come in!"

When Adam walked in and saw the situation you were in, his face turned pale. He quickly closed the door and looked down, embarrassed not by seeing Kura naked, but by seeing you naked. You also had a sneaky suspicion he had no idea you were going to be there at that moment after catching them both early.

"Not a single fucking word of this to anyone, or I swear I'll find out," you told Adam in a perfect English that you knew he understood. "And act like a normal guy, for God's sake. I won't make fun of you if you have a micro-dick."

Adam nodded silently and finally looked up at Kura.

"You're late," Kura said, kneeling on the bed to reach the edge and pull Adam up by his shirt. "Someone already got a little ahead of you."

Kura kissed him before he could excuse himself. Adam didn't protest and wrapped his arms around her. You stayed on the sidelines for a moment, lying on your side and staring only at her back and ass. You understood that the one in charge there wasn't you, but her. So you were going to limit yourself to acting only when she ordered it, directly or indirectly.

Adam's clothes were on the floor in mere seconds. Kura rubbed his cock until it was hard, lowering her lips to his neck and then his chest. She slowly moved her knees back, bending so she could reach his lower torso until she was resting on her hands, her ass raised and her knees apart.

When Kura took Adam's cock in her mouth and shook her ass, knowing you were watching, you knew it was time to get back into the action.

You knelt behind her and placed your hands on her buttocks, squeezing them both. Then you lowered your right hand between them and rubbed her pussy slowly before inserting a finger. Kura moaned with Adam's cock in her mouth. After a few pumps, you inserted a second finger, both with the tips facing down to stimulate her pussy walls as you moved your wrist.

Kura picked up the pace, pumping her lips against Adam's cock with her hands gripping his thighs. He just kept panting, one hand on Kura's head and the other behind his back. The guy wasn't paying you the slightest bit of attention, which you certainly appreciated. The last thing you wanted was to feel uncomfortable because he couldn't just ignore you being there.

Your cock throbbed against Kura's left buttock, aching from how much you needed relief for yourself. So after a few quick pumps with your fingers, you pulled them out and positioned yourself to replace them with your cock, slowly inserting it into her extremely tight pussy. Kura stifled a moan around Adam's cock and pulled it out of her mouth to look at you over her shoulder.

"How does my pussy feel, manager-nim?" Kura asked with a moan, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes as you took every inch inside her.

"Fucking unreal," you gasped, once you were all the way inside her pussy.

Unreal was definitely the best word to describe it. It was the second time in a week that you'd been inside one of the girls you managed, and you didn't know how to feel about it. All you knew was that those three pussies felt like heaven, and their naked bodies were beautiful sculptures that invited you to admire them all night.

And fuck them all night.

With your hands on her tiny waist, you began to move slowly, watching your cock go in and out of her grippy pussy. Kura brought Adam's cock back to her mouth, now moaning around it with each gradually faster pump, growing frantic as you went harder.

"Adam, fuck my mouth," Kura asked after a gasp, jerking him off as you moved with hard thrusts.

Adam gathered Kura's hair behind her head and held it in a ponytail with his left hand. A moment later, he began pumping his hips, close to the rhythm you were setting yourself. Kura couldn't take it all in her mouth, so she was soon gagging on his cock. Despite that, Kura seemed to be enjoying every second, her head still and her pussy clenching around your cock.

Your grip on Kura's waist tightened, and your jaw tensed as you doubled your efforts. A few seconds later, her buttocks became your focal points; you squeezed both of them as you pounded her pussy as hard as you could. Kura moaned again and again, her saliva spilling down her chin and onto the sheets as Adam added fuel to the fire.

Adam now moved to grip Kura's ponytail with both hands, both very close to her scalp, thus pulling harder. On your side, you gave Kura a light spank on her left buttock, making her grunt with pleasure. Her pussy suffocated your cock exquisitely, signaling that she was close to cumming. It finally happened when, after a few more pumps and spanks, Kura squealed with Adam's cock in her mouth and thrust her hips back, her body writhing in spasms.

Kura placed a hand on Adam's lower abdomen and made him stop once her orgasm went away.

"Switch roles," she said, panting. "And put in the effort. I'm testing you with every single thing you do."

Just what you needed. Years of studying and working hard to get to where you were, only for more fucking tests. Great.

Adam pulled out of Kura's mouth, and you pulled out of her pussy. Kura then turned around and lay on her back, her head hanging off the edge of the bed. You climbed off and knelt in front of Kura's face. Meanwhile, Adam climbed onto the bed and knelt between Kura's open legs. He entered her pussy, and you entered her mouth.

Kura took as much of your cock as she could, which was roughly a few inches past the middle of your shaft. You placed your right hand on her pretty neck, slowly beginning to fuck her mouth. Adam had her held behind her knees, both pressed against her body. He wasn't as gentle as you; he was going just as hard as he had been a few seconds ago, even though Kura must still be sensitive.

A little less than a minute passed when you decided to pump as the situation demanded, causing Kura to choke on your cock. Her lips were as closed as possible around your cock, but when she felt overwhelmed, she finally opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, allowing you to use her however you wanted.

Kura, being fucked hard by Adam, tried to moan around your cock, but only gagging sounds came from her mouth. Her saliva pooled inside, soon spilling out and dripping onto her cheeks. Then you increased your speed, fucking Kura's mouth with your clenched teeth and your hands gripping her tits.

Soon, everything reached a breaking point when Kura gripped the sides of your thighs and dug her nails into them as she came again. As Adam slowed down, Kura slapped your thigh a few times, and you pulled out of her mouth. She took a sharp intake of air.

"You're not allowed to cum inside me until I say so," she said, heavily gasping. "Go on, but do it outside."

When you came back inside her mouth, Kura squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt not to cough as you gagged her with your cock. Adam resumed his thrusts, now bent forward with his fists resting on the mattress. Focused on your own pleasure, you and he fucked both holes vigorously. You were the first to feel the tingling, and you immediately pulled out of her saliva-dripping mouth to stand up and masturbate over her tits.

When you came and your semen began to fall in long strips onto Kura's tits, Adam also pulled out of Kura to stroke his cock, aiming for the Japanese woman's tight abdomen. It took seconds for Kura to become a perfect canvas for the two of you, covered in cum on both areas of her body.

The scene seemed like the perfect ending to a night for many. You might even say it was dream-like. But you knew Kura wasn't satisfied with that, and that the fun had just begun. You confirmed it when she sat up, looked at her cum-covered areas, and looked at you as if nothing had happened.

"Get some toilet paper, manager-nim," Kura ordered, pointing. "I'm not done with you two yet."

Clearly.

In a show of unconditional obedience, you immediately turned around and went to the bathroom to grab the toilet paper roll, gather some around your hand, and throw it to Adam. A minute later, Kura's previously stained body was spotless again after a little cleaning. Just in case, you left the toilet paper roll on the nightstand to the right of the bed.

Anticipating Kura's next move, you and Adam both knelt on either side of her. Kura sat back on her heels and brought both hands to your sides to cup your balls and play with them, gently squeezing and massaging them. She went first to your side and carefully brought your limp cock to her mouth, sucking it slowly with a perfect use of her tongue that made you shudder. Then, while jerking you off with her hand, she moved to Adam's cock to repeat the process.

"Sorry if you're still a little sensitive," Kura lamented after removing Adam's cock from her mouth. "But I need these cocks hard."

Masturbating you both, Kura gently pulled you together and brought your cocks as close together as possible without touching, using her tongue to swirl around your tips while massaging your balls. After a few seconds, she took you into her mouth again. Just a little while each. Until after a few delicate sucks, both cocks were covered in a thin layer of saliva and throbbing.

"Manager-nim, lie on your back," Kura said, then looked at Adam. "You'll sit over there until I say so. You can touch yourself if you want. But don't you dare cum, or I'll send you back to your room with your balls tied with nylon."

Damn. That was messed up.

Adam got out of bed and sat right on the middle seat of the couch, while you lay down with your head resting on the pillow on the right side of the bed. Kura crawled on top of you, her knees on either side of your torso, and kissed you, her tits pressed against your chest. You wrapped your arms around her small frame, one around her waist and the other across her back, feeling her slightly sweaty skin beneath your fingers. Not long after, Kura grabbed your cock and impaled herself on it with a muffled moan against your lips.

Kura began to move her hips in her own rhythm: slow, deep, twisting her hips every time she went down. It felt incredible for you, but it must have felt even better for her. Her hands cradled your face as she kissed you, and you felt her breathing become heavier against yours. You prowled her body with your hands, running them up and down the sides of her torso until you moved down to her ass and squeezed it. Only then did Kura decide to go a little faster.

The need to moan louder made Kura break the kiss and hold onto your shoulders, moving her face a few inches away from yours so she could look into your eyes. Her pretty face was blushing again. She then straightened her back slightly, lowering her hands to your chest to bounce her ass against your cock. It was a skillful control of her buttocks that you certainly didn't expect from her.

"My god, since when can you move like that?" you gasped, moving your hands to her waist. Then you moved one to her right breast.

"I may not be an excellent dancer, but I know how to use my body to my advantage," Kura replied, and moved a hand up your collarbone until you brought two fingers inside her mouth. You sucked on them without hesitation, making her lips curl into a small, satisfied smile.

With her fingers still inside your mouth, Kura planted her feet on the bed and began bouncing on your cock, hard and fast to make it enjoyable for both of you. You noticed your cock making her tight belly bulge, which drove you wild. Kura bounced faster and faster, pumping her fingers in and out of your mouth until she pulled them out, grabbed your chin, and with a hard push down, she came.

Kura collapsed against you and kissed you again, muffling her moans against your lips as she slowly moved her hips up and down. Her tight pussy, contracting around your cock, made you moan as well, in the middle of the kiss. You squeezed each of her buttocks hard, helping her move until her orgasm passed and she climbed off of you.

"Adam, come here. Manager-nim, you know where to go."

Unfortunately, you did.

Reluctantly, you stood up as Adam returned to the bed. You went to sit on the right side of the couch, watching as Adam lay on his back in the center of the bed, stacking two pillows under his head. Kura straddled him, and followed the same process as with you before impaling herself on his cock.

Before Kura came while riding you, you already felt like you weren't going to last much longer, so you decided not to play with yourself too much so you wouldn't return to your room with your balls tied with nylon, just enough to stay hard while you watched the scene unfolding a few feet away from you.

Kura didn't start slowly like she did with you, now considerably hornier than she had been a few minutes ago when she was just refueling her engine. She was going at a slightly faster pace from the start, her hands on Adam's collarbone and her face buried in his neck, peppering it with kisses and hickeys. Adam had his hands around her waist, but didn't seem about to move them anytime soon. He, much to your chagrin, was as still as a mannequin.

But that was to your advantage. If Kura found him boring, you'd end up winning the competition.

Wait a minute, what the hell were you thinking? Were you really that eager to win the pseudo-competition Kura was setting up for herself? You were supposed to be more self-conscious about it; if you won, it would mean that woman would seek you out week after week for sex. That might have seemed ideal, but it wasn't all roses. Yunjin and Chaewon were also lurking hungrily. For now, you were safe, but as soon as you had some free time without worries, you were sure those two would hunt you down like an owl hunts a rabbit in the middle of the night.

And you were thinking of putting another predator on your neck? Had you gone fucking crazy?

No. The truth was, no matter how you tried to convince yourself—with convincing and more than logical arguments—that this was a terrible idea, you were letting your heart win over your brain, because it was impossible to resist those women. No matter how you looked at it. They were always going to win.

A louder-than-usual moan brought you out of your reverie. Refocusing, you saw Kura squatting on Adam's cock. Adam had his hands under Kura's thighs, somehow encouraging her to bounce harder. That was absurd. He thought he could twist the tables to try and gain some control, but Kura was very confident in what she was doing, making sure her body language made that clear without her having to say anything.

The big fumble came, in your opinion, when Kura brought her fingers to Adam's mouth, hoping he would suck them like you. But Adam hesitated and hesitated, until Kura gave up and grabbed him by the neck. She didn't say a word, and she bounced hard just the way Adam wanted her to. They both moaned in unison, and Kura was the first to cum.

You expected her to get off Adam once she stopped shaking, but she continued bouncing on his cock.

"Let me know when you're about to cum," you heard Kura mutter.

She kept bouncing, aiming to get Adam off as soon as possible. Adam gestured not long after, giving Kura the signal. Then, she quickly got off him and then off the bed. Adam frowned in confusion.

"H-huh?" Adam propped himself up onto his elbows, watching Kura walk around the bed to join you on the couch and sit on your right.

"Masturbate and cum on your own," Kura said, not looking at him, her tone of disdain implicit. "Consider it your punishment."

"Punishment for what?!" Adam demanded to know, watching Kura press herself against the side of your body, one thigh draped over yours.

"I don't know, you tell me," Kura replied, her eyes fixed on you, spitting into her hand as she brought it to your cock and stroked it quickly. You wrapped your arm around her body and grabbed her by the waist to hold her closer to you.

"Ugh, damn!"

Adam had no choice but to take care of himself, closing his eyes so he could focus again.

Kura had her full attention on you, her eyes carefully observing every tiny twist in your movements as she moved her wrist at full speed, making you tense your glutes and curl your toes. Her hand slid easily over your sloppy shaft, with practically no friction. You turned your head to look at her, and all it took was the sight of her biting her lip to make you explode.

You bucked your hips and moaned as Kura jerked you through your orgasm. Jets of cum shot out, staining both your abdomen and her hand. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear Adam moaning from the bed, probably having cummed too.

Kura kept moving her hand, amused by your squirming. She paused for a moment, only to resume keep moving it a second later. Seeing you squirming again, she let go of your cock with a giggle and settled back on the couch to bend down and clean you with her tongue herself, under the jealous gaze of Adam, who had also made a mess of himself but was forced to clean you with toilet paper instead of the tongue of a sexy Japanese woman.

After cleaning you, Kura took you into her mouth and finished the job, giving you slow, gentle sucks to leave your cock gleaming again.

Kura sat back on her heels and leaned closer to your ear.

"You're ahead by a landslide," she whispered. "All that's missing is a mere formality to cap it off. So don't screw up."

"Having a blast, huh?" you whispered back. "I've lost count of how many times you've cum."

"It's been a while since I've had this much fun, yeah. And that's your fault. So just accept the consequences."

"My fault? I'm just following orders. If it were up to me, I'd leave you all stranded in the rain," you joked.

Kura raised her eyebrows and let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Hey! What nonsense are you talking about?!" Kura nudged you in the shoulder, making you laugh. "Do you want me to kill you?"

"You're going to kill me from stress one of these days. No need."

Kura rolled her eyes, shook her head, and stood up to face Adam, arms akimbo, her weight on her right knee.

"You can continue, right?" Kura asked. "I hope you learned your lesson."

"Sakura, I still don't know what I did to deserve punishment," he replied, sitting with his back against the headboard. "And yes. I can continue."

"Great, because I have one last little surprise for you," Kura pointed to her backpack, leaning against the side of the bed. "Open the front pocket and take out what's inside."

Adam leaned down and opened the pocket. From it, he took out a small, unopened bottle of lubricant. The shape of the bottle made it look like a perfume.

"Oh wow," Adam raised his eyebrows, reading the label on the bottle. "Uberlube silicone-based lube…" he looked at Kura. "Very naughty of you."

"Give me that."

Kura took the bottle from Adam's hands and moved her legs apart so she could lie on her back on the bed. She spread her legs, her pussy facing you, and beckoned you with her finger. You did so, kneeling to her left. Adam did the same on the opposite side.

"You're going to finger me. Both of you. At the same time," Kura said, removing the cap from the bottle and pressing the spray bottle against her palm several times until it was full of lube. No one could tell you that shit didn't look like a bottle of perfume. "You can do that, right? Or do your fingers need a break too?" She then brought the lube-filled hand to her pussy, sliding her palm down to her butthole and back up.

"No, Miyawaki, our fingers don't need a break," you retorted, taking the bottle from her.

"Great. You'll take my ass," Kura told you, then looked at Adam. "And you'll take my pussy. Be good boys, and I'll reward you before we move on to the final act."

With the bottle of lube in your hand, you grabbed Kura's leg and hooked it behind her knee to the left side of your body. Then you filled your fingers with lube, tossed the bottle to Adam, and brought them to her butthole to play with it superficially, tracing the outline and rubbing it up and down. Adam did the same with his fingers, and unlike you, he put them directly inside Kura's pussy after a few brief rubs.

Kura moaned as the first two fingers entered her, followed by one more. You slowly inserted your middle finger into her tight butthole, moving it around to stretch the hole a little before adding your ring finger. Kura held your arm with her hand, her face slowly twisting in pleasure as both pairs of fingers began to pump in and out of her.

"Oh yeah, I can already begin to imagine how that's going to feel," Kura moaned, holding you both with your trembling legs wide open.

Adam finally did something good for his own neck and poured more lube between Kura's legs, making it easier for both of you. Soon the room was filled with the wet sound of fingers going in and out of those two wet holes at full speed. Kura began to squeal like she hadn't all night, overwhelmed by the new sensation.

"Yes yes yes! Keep going, don't stop!" Kura whimpered, arching her back. When seconds later she came between violent spasms, she looked up at you with teary eyes. "MORE!"

"Jesus, girl. Are you made of steel or what?" you asked, impressed by her durability.

"I haven't had orgasms this good in YEARS, so just shut up and keep going!" Kura demanded, digging her nails into your elbow.

More scared to death than anything else, you and Adam continued pumping your wrists nonstop until Kura came again, now with a few tears running down her cheeks and her whole body shaking.

"God... god..." Kura gasped, her chest rapidly rising and falling. "Both of you, stand at the edge of the bed."

Your fingers left Kura's body, and you stood where Kura indicated. The Japanese woman then turned toward you and leaned on her elbows, extending her feet toward each cock, rubbing them up and down. You also didn't find the skill she had with her feet surprising. But damn, she did an incredible job getting you hard in a matter of seconds, caressing your balls and tips until you were throbbing.

"Reward earned," Kura said. "Now come here and use both of my holes."

Adam was quick to move to the bed with her, lying on his back and pulling her on top of him. Kura positioned herself on top of him, her knees at either side of his waist, just as Adam grabbed his cock and guided it into her pussy. You climbed onto the bed as well, kneeling over Adam's left thigh so you could get a good angle behind Kura and, after lubing up your cock, press the tip against Kura's other hole. Her ass yielded relatively easily, swallowing inch by inch of your shaft until it was completely filled.

"Oh my god," Kura lay very still, her eyes closed, both cocks buried to their full length inside her. "Don't move. It feels... oh fuck. Use me. Fuck me hard."

You and Adam got to work, both of you pumping slowly at first. Adam had her by the waist, his fingers firmly pressed there, and you had your hands on both of Kura's ass cheeks, spreading them to the sides to watch on full display as your cock slid in and out in a deliciously hypnotic way from that ass, which was even tighter than her pussy. Kura went completely wild, not knowing where to hold on. Her moans weren't that loud, but you knew it was only a matter of time before she started making a scene. No sooner said than done, Kura began to scream as you and Adam began thrusting faster and harder, instinctively covering her mouth so as not to alarm whoever passed by outside the room.

Her beautiful platinum-blonde hair soon acted as your grip point. You pulled it into a messy high ponytail, pulling her neck back to slam your pelvis against her ass. Adam wasn't far behind and wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly and pumping his hips as hard as they could in that position.

"So good, oh my god!!" Kura groaned, clawing at Adam's chest. "Mmmgh!!"

Kura came in a violent maelstrom of spasms that made every part of her slim, toned body tense. More tears fell down her cheeks, more whimpers that evoked pure pleasure. She clung to Adam's shoulders, her hips twitching as you pumped considerably slower.

"Sw... switch holes," Kura managed to say in a small voice. "Manager-nim, stand up and carry me."

You pulled out of Kura's ass and helped her off of Adam, taking her hand as she climbed off the bed with you. Kura wrapped her arms around your neck and jumped up so you carried her in the air, her legs wrapped around your torso. Adam got off the bed and stood behind her, and then he entered her ass and you entered her pussy.

Kura's head fell back and her eyes rolled back as she began to be fucked in both holes again. Her fingers clutched at your hair, and you held her behind her knees as you slammed her pussy harder and harder. A few seconds later, with Adam now also mercilessly drilling her ass, Kura dropped back to rest her back against Adam's chest, her left hand clamped around your neck and her right hand on Adam's head. She came in record time, making it difficult for you to keep her still in the air.

"Cum inside me!" Kura whimpered in the midst of her orgasm. "Fill every corner of my tight holes, please, please!"

Those magic words were like music to your ears, because you'd been longing to do so for quite some time now.

Adam was the first, cumming inside her with a primal growl that made him sound like an animal. Kura's eyelids fluttered as she felt the first load inside her, and her eyes rolled back when, a few seconds later, you exploded inside her pussy with a loud moan.

"Oh yes..." Kura sighed, her head resting on Adam's shoulder, feeling you shoot your entire load into her sweltering pussy, which throbbed around your cock. "I feel so full... so good."

You and Adam pulled out of her pussy seconds later. Both of your thick loads fell to the floor, dripping steadily until they ended up in small pools on the carpeted floor.

Kura, still panting, raised her head to look at you and then at Adam.

"I... I need to sleep. Clean me up and leave me in bed," she said, her hair messy and sticking to her face with sweat.

You stepped back and led her to the bed. Adam and you grabbed toilet paper and cleaned up your respective messes. When Kura was clean and under her blanket, you both got dressed, ready to go. Adam left first after saying goodnight, but before you could, Kura grabbed your wrist and made you lean in to whisper something in your ear.

"Needless to say, you won, manager-nim" she said. "But you better get ready, because you just earned yourself a very thirsty Yokai. God bless you."

[say-al0e]

Hold Tight

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18. Minors, DNI!

Summary: Aemond has long sought comfort in the arms of the madame at his lowest. Now, he has what he's so long craved; a loving wife who is happy to indulge him. Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, lactation kink, PinV, mention of Luke's death and the war, mentions of the madame, Aemond's a little soft. If you notice anything else, let me know and I'll tag it! Pairing: Aemond x pregnant, wife!Reader Word Count: 7.6k HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen knew the secrets of the Red Keep better than most.

As a child, he spent his days studying history and philosophy, learning the language of his ancestors or practicing with his blade, preparing himself for the future he knew awaited him. He kept to himself, tired easily of his brother’s torment and Helaena’s bugs - her riddles - and spent much of his idle time wandering the Keep.

Aegon was bold, slipping out of the gates with a command for the guard on watch to allow him and little regard for who knew. He used his power as the King’s eldest son, as the heir to the throne in the eyes of most, and came and went as he pleased. Helaena never left the Keep without supervision - never wanted to leave at all, really. And Aemond, as always, fell somewhere in between.

Many nights, when he found himself searching for sleep that refused to come, Aemond roamed the labyrinthine passages Maegor the Cruel left behind. He learned most of them, slipping in and out of the Keep as he pleased, and found the ones that he could someday use to his advantage.

Most apartments in the Keep contained an alternate entrance - or exit, if need be - that few knew existed. The royal apartments, he found, were most likely to contain them; Aegon’s, Helaena’s, his mother’s, his, yours.

Though, their existence was a secret he had yet to reveal to anyone, including you.

For as long as he could remember, Aemond made use of the passages. It was not often that he visited the city - he’d never been fond of it, never cared for the revelry in the same way Aegon did - nor did he spend much time by the water. The Keep was his home and where he felt safest. But he slipped from his room to the field where Vhagar resided from time to time, or to the Kingswood, just for a moment of peace.

However, after his thirteenth name day - and Aegon’s insistent ‘instruction’ - Aemond found himself returning to the city more than he ever had.

The unmarked door, one he’d grown to need and hate in equal measure, was his destination. It called to him, a siren song in the dead of night, on his darkest days and it seemed as if each day had grown darker than the last. The incident with Lucerys, the bitter sting of his mother’s wrath, the whispers beginning to fill the ears of all who might hear; every bit his fault, and every bit beckoning him closer to that door.

Aemond lingered there for a few long moments, moments he dared not count, as a war raged in his mind. Seconds could have passed, even hours, as he hid in the depths of the shadows. Many and more moons had passed since he last stepped foot into the city, since he last visited this place, but the song drew him closer.

There was comfort to be found inside, one he once craved so desperately, but he now knew better.

Love, affection, eluded him for so long that he saw this place - the woman inside, the gold he paid her - as his only option, the only chance to feel what others took for granted. A gentle hand, a soft word, a kind smile; he wanted little else and knew she would give it to him. 

Inside those walls, the world ceased to exist. There would be no mention of his nephew, his brother, his wife. The woman inside would not ask, would not mention the whispers he knew she’d already heard, and would only listen to whatever he decided to share. There would be no strategy, no attempt to comfort him with words he knew she didn’t mean. Instead, she would hear him confess his gravest sins before attempting to comfort him with the warmth of her mouth around his cock, the pads of her fingers tracing the tense muscle of his shoulder when he curled into her after.

Spending the night there, in her arms - no matter how tempting - would only add to the oppressive weight already crushing his chest. It was a truth he’d come to learn now that he knew real love, true affection, a reality he’d faced.

Despite himself, the tricks his mind played, the comfort he found there had never been real. With his body curled into hers, her fingers carding through his hair and his breath shuddering as he finally allowed himself to feel, he willed it to be a true comfort. He once considered this place, her, the pinnacle of vulnerability, of safety, of comfort.

Now, he knew there was none to be found there.

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could give him, that would provide any comfort at all. The siren song had ended, faded into the din of the city surrounding him, and Aemond could hear a new call. This song was sweeter, gentler, had blown in on a strong wind and erased all other noise the moment he fell in love with you.

Though the marriage was one of convenience at first, an arrangement made by your father and Aemond’s grandsire - his hand for the full strength of your house, when the time came - it had grown into something more.

For much of his life, Aemond refused to entertain the idea that any marriage he found himself in would be one filled with love. Marriage was bound to duty, something done for the good of your house - the good of the realm, in his case - and love meant little. Most lords disliked their wives, took other women to bed at any given chance, and the wives often rejoiced as they were no longer forced to share a bed.

The most he’d ever hoped for was a wife he could tolerate.

Aemond shared little of his mother’s faith, even less of her devotion to prayer and piety, but he often found himself thanking the gods for bringing you to him.

Hidden in the Red Keep, very likely in his own bed as you’d taken to spending more nights with him than alone, he imagined you asleep beneath the soft linen. Very clearly, he could see the white of your nightgown - a beautiful, soft material he found himself clutching between calloused fingers as oft as you would allow, drifting to sleep with the feeling of it soothing his warm skin - as your head rested on his pillow in a desperate bid to surround yourself with his scent.

That image - the picture of you he now saw so clearly, stamped in place of the door he’d been staring at without really seeing - was enough to break the invisible bond that kept him cemented in place. 

Without sparing the door another glance, Aemond turned and began his retreat to the Keep.

Each step through the city was quicker than the last, eager to return to the quiet of home - the solace that awaited him in his chambers. Aemond knew the route by heart now, could find his way back with his remaining eye closed, and breathed a sigh of relief as he wound through the hidden passages that lead back to his comfort.

The moment the door settled in place, clicked shut with a soft gust of cool air, Aemond crossed the expanse of the room carefully. His footsteps were light, a barely there sound in the quiet of the room, and he was glad for his caution as he perched on the arm of a chair. His gaze fell to the bed he’d grown so used to sleeping alone in and he felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the sight of another body making itself at home, directly in the middle of the mattress.

Just as he’d expected, you rested there comfortably. The white of your nightgown stood in stark contrast to the deep green of his sheets, a bright spot in the otherwise dim tapestry of his room - his life. 

Aemond sat there for a few long moments, time beginning to slow as he drank in the sight of you. The Keep was quiet, save for the odd shuffle of guards or servants, and he could hear the soft sound of your breathing as you shifted. 

Though you rested near the center of his bed, your head on his pillow and your hand outstretched - reaching for him, despite his absence - your brows furrowed with a discomfort he’d never seen. Beneath the soft bedding, he could see the curve of your body, resting on your side, and the shift of your hand as it lifted to cradle your stomach. The motion set him on edge, drew a sharp breath from him, and earned a fluttering of your lashes as some semblance of wakefulness returned to you.

“Aemond?” you questioned, voice still so soft despite the sleep clinging to you. 

“Mm.” He hummed, voice equally soft in the dim light of the room - the lone candle you’d left burning, a beacon for him to find his way in the dark. There was little doubt where your thoughts had begun to drift, the questions you wanted to ask; where he’d gone, how he felt, what came next? But he could not yet describe his feelings in words.

Before you could so much as part your lips, he sighed. “I went to see about Vhagar.” The lie slipped from his lips easily, believable enough, and his eye fluttered shut in a sort of relief - or, perhaps, shame, guilt - when you made a sympathetic noise. “I did not mean to wake you.”

As he stood, fingers beginning to work at the buttons of his doublet, you hummed. “’Twas not you,” you informed him, a sigh of your own escaping as you sat up against the headboard. “Your babe is restless and will not allow me to find comfort.” Aemond watched for a moment, keen eye following every move you made, as your hand returned to your growing belly. 

The babe you carried was now very visible, obvious to all who spared you a glance, and the sight was one that enraptured him and terrified him in equal measure. Aemond was a proud man, one who was eager to carry on the Targaryen line, but his family was not one of love. There was no comfort, no happiness, to be found in the Keep - none to be found in the arms of his mother, certainly not his father - and he often feared the same fate awaited his own children. But the soft smile that curved the plush of your lips each time you rested your hand on the swell of your belly and the delighted laughter you breathed each time one of Helaena’s babes brought you into their playtime served as another light, shining in the dark; a spot of hope that, perhaps, his children may know a love he never had.

Aemond’s eye finally lifted to yours, met your concerned glance with an even one of his own after a beat of silence that stretched on almost too long, before he shook his head. “My babe? I seem to recall that we both had a hand in his creation,” he reminded you, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he removed his breeches and stood in nothing but his small clothes.

“Mm, perhaps,” you hummed, though the glimmer in your eyes told him you remembered very well. “But her nocturnal nature is solely your own. At this hour, she is yours and yours alone,” you teased, smiling softly as he padded across the stone floor to make his way to bed.

“Still insistent our first babe will be a girl?”

“A mother knows,” you hummed, watching as he slipped into bed beside you. His violet eye raked over your form, still so easily visible in the dim light of the room, and you bit back a sigh as you reached for him. “Come here.”

With little coaxing, Aemond shifted closer to you. The shift of his body was easy, almost as natural as breathing now, and you hummed in encouragement as you pushed away the bedding to allow his head to settle on your plush thighs. His favored position was resting with his head on your chest, face tipped to the crook of your neck, but the swell of your belly and the sensitivity in your breasts left you both with little choice but to find an alternative.

The beat of his heart began to slow when your hand fell from your belly to his hair, fingers softly carding through the silver strands - now free of the tie he kept in it and the lace of his eyepatch. “What happened, my love?”

Silence settled thick over the room and he knew that you weren’t asking where he’d gone. Though you worried, his disappearance was of little concern to you in that moment. The truth would out eventually, he would admit his shame sooner rather than late - as he so often seemed to with you - but this question afforded him a bit more time.

This question was the one he dreaded, the one that truly meant; what happened that night with Lucerys?

“I sincerely regret that business with Luke,” he admitted, voice a whisper in the still of the room. “I… I was angry, but I only meant to scare him. I did not mean to end his life. But Vhagar, my temper; I lost control.” The confession, whispered to you in the only place he’d ever known true safety, felt like a weight off his chest. It left behind a crater, a chasm that he knew would be difficult to fill, but sharing the secret with you made it easier for him to draw his breath. It escaped as a soft sigh, a puff of air blown across your thighs - now exposed, fabric of your nightgown pushed out of the way to allow his own hand to fall to the plush of your thigh. “Aegon is shortsighted. He wishes to throw feasts, to celebrate bloodshed. Mother is angry because she knows what must come next. Peace is no longer an option.”

Aemond’s confession lingered in the air for a long moment. It reverberated in his ears, rang like the bells that tolled on the day of his father’s death, but you calmed the noise with a quiet sigh.

“I don’t believe peace was ever an option,” you confessed, carefully brushing silver strands away from his sapphire eye. “This war started long ago, before you or Aegon or Rhaenyra were even a thought. It will be convenient, for some, to blame you and Vhagar, but this began before you took the sky together. And someday, there will be none who remember what started it or why it was fought. History will only remember the bloodshed that we must now bear the brunt of.”

No response came to him, lost in the thoughts that swept through his mind like a raging storm, but he knew you didn’t expect one. The words were meant to be a balm, soothing the soul he bared only for you, and he took them as such as he allowed his eye to fall closed.

There was something to be said of routine, then, as you followed the familiar dance that started months ago. 

Silence lingered for a beat, long enough for his breathing to even and your own to grow deeper - always so shallow now, he noticed, almost labored as your stomach grew ever rounder - before you spoke again.

“I spent the day with the twins,” you informed him, fingers still softly working through the strands of his hair. “Helaena wanted to take Dreamfyre out so I sat with them and we watched her fly. I think Jaehaerys will love being a dragonrider, like Helaena, but it seems Jaehaera has no interest.”

“And Maelor?” 

Aemond’s question was reflexive, asked without thought, but you took a moment to consider it. “Too young to tell,” you decided, allowing your hand to drift to his cheek and brush the sharp line of his jaw. “He has no reaction to the stink of dragon, unlike his sister, but he may, later on. Aegon wishes to take him flying on Sunfyre but Helaena has forbidden it.” Another moment of quiet, then, before you hummed once more. “Has an egg been chosen for our babe’s cradle? Or do you wish our daughter to be like her father and claim a fearsome old beast?”

The reminder of the babe you swelled with drew a shuddering breath from him as Aemond struggled to keep the grasp he held on your thigh light. “Our son will have an egg,” he promised, “but they do not always hatch. He might try for one of the unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. Vermithor is nearly as fearsome as Vhagar, nearly as old.”

‘If we can pry Dragonstone from Rhaenyra’s hands,’ went unsaid, though you both allowed the thought to cross your minds.

That thought did not linger, however, as you allowed your hand to drift from his cheek to his shoulder. Soft fingers caressed his skin, warm and strong, and Aemond relaxed into your touch. “How can I help you, my love? I mislike seeing you this way.”

More often than not these days, Aemond found himself here. Many and more nights had been spent curled into the curve of your body, his head resting against your skin as you stroked his hair and spoke softly to him, but they seemed to grow more frequent. Aemond knew that you were observant, that you’d realized he seemed to need your embrace more and more with each passing day, but even he could not articulate why.

Perhaps the weight of his inheritance had finally caught up to him. Or, perhaps it was the knowledge of all he’d done in preparation for his brother’s reign. He even considered it was the possibility that he found himself desiring his brother’s crown, the one Aegon had no desire for.

In truth, he knew that it was you.

The moment you joined hands, the moment you became his wife, Aemond began to feel the walls he’d spent so long building crumble around him. You chipped away at the slowly, almost imperceptibly, but they toppled all the same.

With every moment spent together, with every word of affection you shared or every soft brush of your fingertips across his skin, Aemond felt his world shifting.

Everything he’d ever considered important remained, still mired in the golden glory of his inheritance, only you now loomed over it all. All with the babe you now carried, his babe, alongside you.

“You are with child,” he whispered, shifting to lie on his back and glance up at you.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you returned, drily. When he fixed you with a look, violet eye unamused, you sighed. “I am with child,” you agreed, free hand falling to your belly as you stroked his hair once more. “Our child. That is what we wanted, is it not?”

“It is.” That was always the plan; get married, have children, carry on the Targaryen legacy. Only, the plan had never included losing his eye and spilling the first blood that began a war - killing a child, a nephew.

Aemond could not bring himself to say those words aloud, however, as your fingers carefully carded through his hair, he knew that you understood. There was a fear you both shared, one that had grown heavier since the incident with Lucerys, but he dared not speak it and neither did you. Losing a babe was something that frightened you both - him, nearly as much as losing you in the process - but he willed himself to push that concern to the back of his mind.

Instead, he searched desperately for a thought more pleasant.

Initially, when your betrothal was announced and preparations began for the wedding, he heard murmurs of those who pitied you. It was a shame, they all said, that such a pretty maiden - known for her kindness, her beauty, her wit - would be married to someone like him. He was, after all, noted for his sullen silence and impassive expression.

Everyone wondered how you might fare, locked away in the Keep as your husband-to-be rarely ventured outside its walls, just as Aemond wondered how he might tolerate a highborn lady who doubtlessly believed the whispers.

Those whispers had proven false - just as you’d proven that you never believed any of them.

Love, a curious thing he never hoped to find, bloomed between the two of you. It was not instant, as he learned you had hoped, but slow and cautious. Trust took time, vulnerability even more, but they came, eventually. And with them came a relationship that seemed to stun the whole of the realm into silence.

The pair of you were evenly matched: both highborn, well-educated and eager to continue learning; both fond of the quiet, though you had a natural charm and ability to pretend to enjoy banal chatter that he did not possess; both desperate for a love, a comfort, that you never found at home. There were many similarities, and more differences, but the love that bloomed brought you both a happiness you never knew possible.

And now, as you grew round with the evidence of your love, he discovered another feeling he never thought possible.

Aemond always found you beautiful - he agreed with the whispers of court, that you were much too beautiful to be chained to him for the rest of your life - and he spent the first few weeks of your courtship attempting to ignore his baser urges. There would be time enough for him to indulge in you, for him to see you as no other had ever seen you, but a desperate need for you began to take root then and had yet to release him from its iron grasp.

With every day that passed, Aemond wanted you even more.

Aegon often spoke of the joys of sex, the great pleasure he found in the Streets of Silk, and Aemond never quite believed him. The little experience he had - courtesy of his brother’s goading and gold coin - proved Aegon a liar. However, when Aemond found himself settled between your thighs, he finally believed his brother.

Now, there was little that settled him - anchored him to the moment and cleared his mind of all the noise - quite like losing himself in the throes of pleasure with you.

Since you began to swell with his child, your belly growing round and your tits beginning to spill from your gowns, Aemond found himself even more drawn to you - a feat he hadn’t believed possible. There was something so alluring about the sight of you, wandering the Keep dressed in the color of his house and bearing the most obvious sign that you were his, that it had begun growing maddening.

Luckily, you seemed to be just as desperate for him as he was for you.

The maesters assured you both that there was no harm to be done in satiating your urges and, though he was hesitant in the beginning, soon trusted they spoke nothing but the truth. Now, as he found himself eager for comfort - soft words, loving touches - he allowed himself to seek it in your embrace.

“Are you tired, ābrazyrys?” His question was soft, spoken into the silence that settled easily around you, and met with your hum.

“No.” It was a lie, he knew - could tell by the way your lashes fluttered and your fingers slowly brushed at his skin, the way your lips parted with badly concealed yawns - but you would not be swayed from allowing him whatever he wanted. “I’m here, my love,” you assured him, thumb caressing his cheek. “Take what you need.”

Aemond knew that your body was beginning to grow weary - he’d heard your whispered complaints to Helaena; how your back ached constantly, how your body felt heavier with every step, how even your softest gowns felt too rough on your sensitive skin - and nearly refused you as he had no desire to cause you pain. But the warmth of arousal had already entered his blood, burned beneath his skin, and the shift of your thighs beneath his head indicated that you felt it, too.

Rather than backing away, Aemond moved to sit up and crowded closer to you.

“Gevie,” he whispered, violet eye raking over your face as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. “Issa gevie ābrazyrys.” Aemond pressed his mouth to yours, then, and you swore you felt his lips curve into a soft smile as you leaned into him.

Aemond had softened some, over the course of your marriage. Though he remained himself, steadfast and strong in who he had become, the edges grew a little more polished. His touch was gentler, his words softer, his kiss less rushed, and you appreciated the effort he’d taken as he tipped his head to deepen the kiss. His hand descended, brushed the soft material of your nightgown as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you released a contented sigh.

The large expanse of his hand fell to your ribcage, just beneath the swell of your breast, and though you knew it was coming, you still gasped as his thumb brushed a sensitive nipple.

“I’m alright,” you assured him, the moment he broke the kiss - before he could ask. Your hand lifted to his cheek, thumb brushing his warm skin as you offered him a smile. “Sensitive, is all. The maesters told me it’s normal,” you explained, watching as his gaze fell to your breasts. “They… they also said stimulation may help,” you continued, fingers returning to his hair as his violet eye returned to meet yours.

“Stimulation?”

Aemond knew he hadn’t been subtle in the attention he paid your swelling breasts, in the way his gaze fell to them every time he found you bare between his sheets, but his skin burned with an embarrassed warmth and an overwhelming lust as he realized what you were offering.

“Mm,” you hummed, not bothering to hide your actions as you lifted the skirt of your nightgown higher up your thighs. “I tried, with my fingers, the way they instructed to no avail. Perhaps you have another idea, my love?”

For a brief moment, Aemond felt his head begin to swim. His thoughts muddled, each one making less sense than the last, but they all seemed to lead in the same direction. It was a desire he’d never dared speak aloud, one he barely allowed himself to consider, but the rounder you grew with his seed - the heavier your breasts grew - the harder it became for him to forget. 

Most nights, Aemond spent his time wrapped in your embrace. He enjoyed exploring your skin, mapping the soft expanse of your body with his hands and mouth, and had committed it all to memory. His words sometimes failed him, never quite capturing just how much you meant to him - just how deeply he loved you - but his touch never did. With a flick of his tongue or a brush of his fingers, with a snap of his hips or a soft press of his hand, he continued to find new ways to express himself. And when he’d gotten his fill of you, of hearing you cry his name and watching your body writhe with an exquisite pleasure only he could provide, he filled you with his seed before sometimes settling at your breast.

While he once feared you might find the act strange, that it might repulse you, you were eager to take him as he was. Any act that offered him comfort was one you allowed and the few times he curled into you, flushed body pressed to yours and mouth pressed to your breast, he felt nothing but your love.

As he swallowed, hesitant, you offered him a smile. “You will not harm me or the babe, my love,” you assured him, fingers caressing his jaw as they began to drift lower. “If anything, you will be helping me.” When he frowned, uncertain - disbelieving - you hummed. “Feel,” you instructed, reaching to guide the hand on your rib cage to your breast. It was engorged, heavy and warm in his palm, and you sighed as his thumb mindlessly brushed the nipple once more. “When the babe is born, she will have a nursemaid and I will be left with swollen, leaking tits.”

Aemond acted without thought in that moment and allowed himself to take what you offered so freely. His hands lifted to the straps of your thin nightgown and brushed them off your shoulders, giving him an opportunity to free you from the confines of the fabric.

Pregnancy had changed your body, in a way that terrified him at first - something so delicate now rested within you, a life he helped create - but now drove him to the brink of madness.

A searing warmth, all encompassing and hotter than any dragon fire, enveloped him. And a single glance at your face proved that you did, too. You felt the heat of him, the warmth of his palms - of his heavy gaze, his lithe body - and feared you were only moments from begging him to act when he took mercy on you. The gift you offered, the act you so willingly encouraged him to indulge in, was one he would never refuse.

His touch had never been exceedingly gentle, nor was it particularly hesitant. Aemond was a man assured, confident. There were moments he could be tender, even teasing, but none compared to the moment at hand.

The press of his hands to your sides, just beneath your rib cage, was soft. It was a featherlight pressure, one you feared you might not have felt were it not for the overwhelming sensitivity of your skin, and you sighed contentedly as your hand returned to the silver strands of his hair.

Slowly, and with a caution you’d never before seen in your husband, Aemond’s hands lifted. 

Aemond was almost tentative, careful, in the way he touched you. His violet eye remained fixed on your face - watching, waiting for any hint of discomfort - and you offered him an encouraging smile as you leaned into his touch. “I am not fragile,” you reminded him, a small grin forming at the words he’d once used to declare his surprise at your steadfastness, your unwavering strength. “I will not break.”

A moment passed, in which you watched your husband gather himself, before his hands lifted to your breasts. He seemed to marvel at the weight of them, the warmth of your skin - usually so cool in the depths of his chambers - and hummed.

As he leaned in, gaze finally dipping to your breasts, you expected him to press his mouth to your skin - bury his face in the crook of your neck, press his lips to your collarbone and work his way down - but you were surprised when he tipped his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. Though he never left you wanting, never left you doubting his desire for you, this kiss stole your breath.

The kiss was unlike any other; fierce, passionate. It fanned the flames of desire already burning within you and turned it into an uncontrollable blaze. As eager as you always felt for his touch, the fierceness of his kiss left desperate tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

Calloused hands - toughened by years of swordplay and dragon riding - began to explore in earnest.

Every press of his palm, every swipe of his fingers drew soft noises from your lips, cries that Aemond swallowed eagerly. He relished in them, in the noises only he managed to draw from you, and you felt the evidence of his pleasure press into your thigh.

For a moment, you wondered if he might refuse your offer. However, the thought disappeared with a swipe of his thumb over the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond allowed you to break the kiss, lips parting in a sharp gasp, and wasted little time in pressing his mouth to the curve of your jaw. There seemed to be little hurry in his actions, the way he nipped and kissed the soft skin of your throat, but you could feel the tension in his corded muscles as he crowded into you. He seemed to be nearly vibrating with desire, a tremble that made you lightheaded - an awe that you could produce such a reaction in such a man - and you struggled to catch your breath as he began to descend.

There was a brief worry - a split second thought that never fully formed - that he might avoid your eye in the way he had the very first time, when there was no babe and no real reason to suckle at your breast. However, it was quickly driven away as your husband’s violet eye lifted to meet yours.

Soft kisses were pressed to your skin, across the tops of your breasts and between them - violet eye fluttering as he paused only to marvel at the newfound heat emanating from your skin.

“The maesters told me I would remain warm until the babe is here. They jest it is because I carry the blood of the dragon,” you informed him, hand falling to the back of his head to cradle him close. “I’m not sure I mind. But, tell me, husband; what do you think?”

Though your husband had always been a man of few words, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The words you spoke meant little to him, it seemed, as he found himself capable of only a simple reply. “I shall keep you warm and full,” he promised.

Already, he could see you swollen with his seed - with the blood of the dragon - again and again. He would see you round with his babe as many times as you would allow and you could see the promise in his eye as he glanced up at you. “Perhaps it is good there will be a nursemaid, then,” you hummed, unable to bite back your grin as Aemond’s mouth pressed just beneath your breast. “So you may spend as much time at my breast as you’d like.”

In the moment, the present mattered little. All that had come to pass ceased to exist and all that might come felt good, sweet. In reality, the future seemed bleak, but in the moment, there was a future. And all either of you wanted was to pretend.

Without sparing another moment, Aemond’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple.

The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, was cautious at first - desperate to keep from hurting you, to keep from causing any pain - and you hummed contentedly as his eye fluttered shut. Your fingers carded through his hair, touch as delicate as his own, as your free hand fell to his chest.

Aemond’s heart thrummed beneath your fingertips, the beat of it as erratic as you’d ever felt it, and you felt your own beat in time with his. 

No part of you ever imagined you would find yourself here - in bed with your dragon rider, the fierce swordsman and Targaryen prince, suckling at your breast - but there was no dismay in it. The pair of you were two halves of a whole: him, desperate to be wanted, needed, loved; you, desperate to love, to want, to need. There was a balance, an equal give and take, that saw you both offering the other what they desired freely. You understood one another in a way no one ever had and you were grateful for that understanding as Aemond attempted to crowd closer.

“My sweet love,” you whispered, fingers brushing the silver strands from his cheek. “This is what we both needed,” you assured him, voice a quiet lilt in the dim of his chambers. “Feels so much better.”

A pleased hum - proud, soothed by your praise - escaped your husband as his free hand returned to your thigh. His fingers pressed into the plush skin, anchoring himself to you, and you sighed at the touch. His hand was so close to where you wanted him and you asked without sparing it a second thought.

“Aemond,” you whispered, hand reaching for his - fingers clasping around his wrist and dragging it higher. “Touch me, please. Need you.”

Calloused fingers slipped between your thighs, lips curving into a smile at how readily you parted for him. His touch paused only for a moment, as did the gentle pull of his lips at your breast, as he seemed to realize the state you were in.

Slick pooled between your thighs and Aemond readily gave you what you wanted. His fingers swiped through your arousal, gathering your slick, before his thumb found the all-too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The wet slip of his fingers was self-assured, an action he’d taken a thousand times before, and it seemed as if he knew your own body better than you did. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filled your veins and blazed up your spine, as he rolled the numb beneath his thumb for a moment before abandoning it to press his fingers to your slick opening.

“You enjoy this,” he accused, finally allowing his violet eye to open as he released your nipple and urged you to turn so he could reach the other. “As much as I do,” he continued, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I do,” you promised, sigh escaping your lips as you felt his long fingers press into you - curling, parting, manipulating in the way only he knew. “I have never turned you away,” you reminded him, words ending in a breathless moan. “If you are as depraved as you imagine yourself, then consider me your equal.”

Aemond seemed pleased by your assertion, proud to have found a wife who not only indulged him, but understood him. And you were pleased, as he returned his mouth to your aching breast, that he trusted you enough to allow you this glimpse. 

The press of his mouth to your breast was growing ever eager, desperate for whatever you could give him - and, as it turned out, was not much yet, though you knew he would patiently await the day it would be more. It was soothing, almost, in a way that eased the ache you’d begun growing weary of, and you parted your lips to thank him for it the moment his thumb pressed to your aching clit.

A keening moan escaped, a noise that might’ve brought an embarrassed heat to your skin in the beginning of your marriage, but such noises were familiar now and your husband reveled in them.

Some small part of you wondered if he meant to have you both finish this way, him with his mouth pressed to your breast and you with his fingers curling into your heat. Only, he gave you little time to wonder as he lifted his head to glance at you fully.

“I know your body aches,” he hummed, press of his fingers slowing - thumb stilling on your clit, earning a displeased whine. “Do you think you can take my cock, my love? I have no desire to cause you discomfort.”

“You will,” you huffed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging - just slightly, “if you do not fuck me.”

Aemond laughed, then, a sound you imagined few others had ever heard, before pulling away from you. You whined at the loss of his touch, the emptiness that filled you and the cool that suddenly chilled you, before your attention was stolen. His lips wrapped around his fingers, capturing the taste of you on his tongue, and you swallowed hard to keep from lunging at him as he settled against the headboard himself.

“Come here,” he beckons, hand already reaching for you hip and hauling you onto his lap. “So fucking perfect.”

Before the babe, before your stomach began to swell, this was a rarity. Aemond preferred you beneath him, pressed into his mattress as he left you seeing stars, but he’d admitted he could see the beauty of the position you now found yourselves in.

As expected, the moment you settled atop him, his gaze returned to your breasts. “One may think you’d never seen tits before,” you teased, not bothering to hide your grin as Aemond rolled his eye. “I jest, my love,” you hummed, reaching out for him - encouraging him to return his mouth to your breast. “It helped,” you assured him. “They no longer ache as they did when I woke. Thank you.”

Aemond lifted a hand to the back of your neck, then, and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. The kiss was more familiar, something you’d grown to expect - grown to love - and you felt yourself melting into it as he crowded you closer.

The swell of your belly made it difficult to press your body as close to his as you would’ve liked, as close as he would’ve liked - in the privacy of his chambers, beneath the sheets of his bed, Aemond liked you a close as he could have you - but it was enough. His hands explored your warm skin, slick beneath his fingers and no longer aching in the way you’d complained earlier, and you relaxed into his touch as his hand slipped between your spread thighs once more.

Though you expected his fingers to return to your center, Aemond’s hand fell to his cock. You breathed something akin to a sigh of relief as you felt the tip glide through your slick folds, catching on your aching clit and drawing another keening moan that he eagerly swallowed.

The head of his cock nudged your slick opening, nestled there as you rested on your knees, before he lifted his hand to your hip and pulled you down.

A familiar stretch, a familiar warmth, captured the whole of your attention as you sank down onto Aemond’s cock.

Every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock - every ridge, every vein - was heightened by your sensitivity and your eyes nearly rolled back as you sank onto him fully. He filled you wonderfully, perfectly, and reveled in you saying so. Only, he barely allowed you a moment at all to speak before his mouth returned to your breasts.

Each sensation was overwhelming in its own right, every touch more consuming than the last, but the combination of it all had you seeing stars.

The warmth of Aemond’s body pressed to yours, the way his muscles clenched as he rocked his hips up to meet yours, the insistent press of his hand - fingers dimpling your skin as he held you tight - was all magnified by the warmth of his lips pressed to your breast. Even as his hips snapped, pressing his cock in deeper, the press of his mouth remained soft.

Aemond was careful to keep from hurting you, despite his desire to devour you - clear in the lust darkening his violet eye - and you lifted a grateful and to his cheek.

“Feels so good,” you breathed, gaze meeting his. “You make me feel so good, my love.”

The praise he craved, the words he desperately needed to hear but would never ask for, earned you a sharp snap of his hips - driving him deeper, pressing you closer - and you gasped as his teeth carefully nipped at your sensitive nipple. He’d already taken what little your body had produced, would need to wait a little longer for more, but that did nothing to stop him from continuing to suckle at the soft skin as his thumb fell to your clit.

As he so often tried, your husband pressed you on to your pleasure first. His fingers, his mouth, his cock; all working together in an eager attempt to earn your blissful cries. That sharp violet eye watched your face, watched your lips part and your lashes flutter, and you could see the pride in his gaze as you began to quiver in his grasp.

When your release washed over you, heavy and so desperately needed, Aemond allowed himself to let go. He chased his own high for a moment, sinking into the pleasure of you - of your slick cunt, of your swollen breasts.

With a muffled noise, Aemond spilled into you - his spend filling you with a warmth you swore you would never tire of. It was accompanied by a soft gasp, a quiet noise that you wouldn’t have heard over your own heartbeat had you not been paying him such close attention, and you reached for his cheek with a soft smile.

Aemond easily lifted his head, his mouth meeting yours, and gave you the kiss you wanted. It was an assurance for you both, a gesture meant to calm - to serve as a reminder that you were bound, one - and ended with his forehead pressed to yours.

“All of this,” you whispered, the pair of you still struggling to catch your breath, “will end and we will carry on. And when our duty is done, we will be free to live our lives as we wish. You did not start this war, but you will finish it.”

“I will,” he promised, violet eye glimmering with an unscheduled tear as his hand fell to your swollen belly.

It was a promise he couldn’t make in good faith, nor one he could reasonably be expected to keep, but it was enough for the moment. The idea that this is what awaited him - this life, you - made him desperate. He wanted nothing more than to carry on, than to spend the rest of his life right here, and he would do anything in his power to make it happen.

And, if he could not spend the rest of his life here, he would perish in the pursuit.

____________________________________________________

Author's Note: Aemond just. Captivates me. How am I supposed to survive two years without more content?

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

[sttoru]

‘your lover may not be the best in showing his affection for you, but when he does try, it’s always in the ways you least expect.’

☀︎｜tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, slight angst, suggestive. subtly implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). size difference. mentions of hickeys. reader gets called ‘princess / little girl.’ based on an anon request.

“am home.” toji announces under his breath after locking the front door. he kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom. as expected, you were there, body wrapped in a thick blanket to protect it from the recently cold temperatures.

you smile and toji’s fatigue becomes nonexistent. it was like he hadn’t just fought for his life for almost two hours straight — making money to quite literally survive. and to provide for you in the best way he could.

“ah, hi, babe! welcome hom—” your sentence was cut short by a heavy weight settling down atop your chest. toji’s body presses you back into the mattress, big hands instantly searching for their desired destination; that being your waist.

his warm breath - the heavy sigh that carried his worries - instantly softens the look in your eyes. it was this vulnerable side of your lover that you adored most. it wasn’t a sight you got to see often after all.

toji wordlessly attaches his lips to your exposed neck as he withdraws the blanket from your body. even though he has yet to utter a single word to you, his actions told you all, “missed you, toji.”

he mumbles something incoherent in response which you could guess were words of acknowledgement. you were ticklish, your skin tingling with every peck left by the dark-haired man whom you loved dearly.

“were ya waitin’ for me?” toji’s voice was muffled, his mouth busy kissing and sucking your skin. his rough fingers move under your clothes and run up to your shoulders—freeing them from the straps of your top.

you tilt your head to the right so he could gain more access to your skin. you didn’t protest nor said anything about toji’s sudden display of affection. you rub his back and allow a hum of satisfaction to escape your throat, “mhm. was waiting for you all night.”

your voice sounds like a soothing lullaby to the older man. a heavy breath leaves his lips and his sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulder blades abruptly come to a halt.

toji rests his head in the crook of your neck. the pad of his thumb travels up and down the marks he had left—his saliva subtly glistening under the light from the bedside lamp.

“tsk. i told ya not to stay up f’me, princess.” your lover grumbles with his tired eyes half-closed, fingers not stopping their rubbing motion, “but i guess there’s no point in tellin’ you that right now.”

toji still can’t understand why you go to great lengths to show your love for him. he’s a cold hearted assassin, a man whom is feared by many including his own clan and yet you love him unconditionally.

despite it all — he still appreciates the fact that you stay up to welcome him home. even if he may not directly show that said appreciation.

“‘i told ya not to stay up for me,’” you teasingly mimic toji’s deep voice and can only laugh at your own antics afterwards. however, a sudden pinch to your side makes you squirm and yelp. it didn’t stop there; toji took the opportunity whilst you were caged underneath him to remind you of who’s boss.

soon enough your high pitched squealing and broken giggles is all the noise that fills the room.

“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji grunts as he blocks your futile attempts to escape. he could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your body writhing around the best it could and your little hands trying desperately to push him away.

you shake your head and continuously apologise between loud giggles, vision blurry from the tears of joy. there’s a triumphant smirk on toji’s face once he notices how quickly you gave up your act of confidence, “heh, that’s what i thought.”

one of his hands gathers both of your wrists and effortlessly pins them above your head. with a grin, your lover kisses his way down to your neck again — this time being more passionate.

you take the chance to calm yourself down, chest still heaving with each breath. a pout forms on your lips, but was swiftly replaced by a content smile due to the giddy feeling in your chest.

it’s playful moments like these that remind you of the many reasons why you’ve fallen in love with a man like toji. to others, he might be nothing but a monster—a ruthless and cruel individual—but to you, he’s everything you need and vice versa.

toji’s lips were soft, yet lightly rough to the touch. they’re chapped from the cold temperature he had to withstand when he was outside. you felt bad; you had been laying in bed all night, wrapped up in multiple blankets whilst your lover was quietly suffering.

you know that if you tell toji your current worries, he’ll brush it off with a simple ‘tha’s just how it is’ or a ‘don’t worry ‘bout stuff like that’. still, you cannot help but be concerned about the way he easily disregards his own health.

“toji,” you call out his name as his kisses reach the curve of your breasts. the older man lifts his head in response, eyebrows slightly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

you push down the lump in your throat. your warm hands cup his face and you could feel his stubble prickling your palms. you lower your gaze to the rest of his body — finally getting a good look at his worn out physique.

there were faint droplets of blood hidden right under the collar of his shirt. ones toji probably forgot to wipe away after his mission. his black shirt clings to his torso, the dark spots of sweat subtly evident and the small tears in the fabric proof of his hard work.

you could care less about the fact that toji hadn’t taken a shower before cuddling with you. the first thing he did when stepping into the apartment, was to search for you. that alone told you enough: he needed the comfort your presence brings him — he just didn’t know how to convey that message.

“kiss me.” you whisper and your lover immediately complies with zero hesitation; that’s exactly what he had waited for you to say. his lips crash down onto yours, his large hands hold you by your waist and his tongue brushes against yours like it was the first and last time you’d kiss.

toji’s breath hitches the moment he feels you tenderly scratch his arms with your nails. you always do that to calm his nerves after a stressful day—grazing the tips of your nails back and forth against his bare skin. and it works wonders each time.

“fuck,” the dark-haired man curses in a low tone. his grip tightens on your body and his lips detach from yours. you notice the look in his eyes once he opens them; the look of pure love for you, “i missed you so much — so fuckin’ much.”

you softly giggle at his passionate words and steal another kiss from him before settling back against the pillows. your hands travel upwards to play with his damp hair whilst your legs wrap around his waist.

toji gladly accepts your affection and settles down on top of your body again, careful not to completely crush you with his weight. his face was buried between your breasts, taking in the familiar scent of you which calms him down even more.

“i’m glad you’re back home.” you whisper lovingly whilst continuing to massage his scalp. your tired lover answers with a curt nod and a sigh — this time one of content instead of exhaustion.

“yeah, home.” toji wasn’t referring to your shared apartment. he was referring to you; his forever home. there was an overwhelming amount of love in his heart for you and only you.

if only he could properly express those feelings to you. if only he could express himself.

[littlemissmelodie]

⭑Under the Stars⭑

!Onyx Storm spoilers!

Pairing: Ridoc Gamlyn x fem!Reader

Summary: Tagging along with Quest Squad to the Isle kingdom Y/n is nervous to confront her feelings for Ridoc. Realizing that she has forgotten her sleeping bag she is left with few options. Sharing with her squadmate proves to be the only available one. An outcome neither of them ends up having too much complaint about. Only problem, they are surrounded by the rest of their pers.

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, p in v, smut with feelings, swearing, fem!reader, unprotected sex, public sex, fingerring, edging, (very) light exhibitionism and voyeurism, dry humping, praise kink.

Note: This is my first ever smut published and English is not my first language. So please be kind. Other than that, enjoy.

Word count: 3k

After bidding good night to the rest of Quest Squad, as Ridoc insists on calling it, I make my way to my luggage. At the edge of the clearing Èisdeachd is standing, along with the limited amount of items I brought with me. Finding my sleeping bag in the tiny pine of luggage should be no match.

Annoyance takes over when I can't seem to find it. I search through my memory from when I was packing. Quickly I come to realize that I must have forgotten to bring it with me. Fuck.

I weigh my options as I continue to search just in case. 1. I accept defeat and curl up close to Èisde, hoping her warmth will be enough.

2. I ask Ridoc if we can share, taking the opportunity to finally make a move after seven months of denying my attraction.

3. I ask Aaric, who I have slept with before, and will probably be fine with sharing a sleeping bag.

Yep, three it is. No way I make a move on Ridoc this early in our travels. “Coward.” Èisde says amused, making me huff in annoyance.

“Thanks for the input. But I would prefer for the next two weeks to not be awkward.” The thought of having to spend the rest of our island visits in strained silence makes me mentally gag.

“I'd advice you look behind you.” Spinning around at her statement I expect to see caos causing me to be confused at first. Then I spot Aaric beside Molvic already fast asleep. Damn it. Option one it is.

“No rider of mine cowers from confrontation.” Èisde growls, then takes off into the sky.

“You find way too much amusement in this!” I yell through our mindlink, but her shields are already up. Stupid dragon.

“I heard that!”

Despite the many months spent with flirty banter and suggestive comments none of us had ever acted on it. I was therefore terrified of the thought that he might not think of it as anything more than just that.

With a deep breath I turn towards Ridoc who's only a few meters away. “Uhh Ridoc, it seems like I have forgotten my sleeping bag. Would you mind sharing?” I force my voice to be confident. It would be horrible if he knew how nervous this interaction makes me.

With a big cocky grin Ridoc locks his eyes with mine. “Of course not, princess. I'd share a bed with you any day.” Not only is his tone flirty, but he ends his statement with a wink.

The audacity of this man. Suppressing my blush I playfully roll my eyes at him. “Ladies first.” He points to the small sleeping bag. This is gonna be a tight squeeze.

“I'm not sure this is made to fit two people.” I mutter as I crawl halfway into it, leaving everything but my boots on. Slowly Ridoc begins to climb in behind me, using my shoulder to keep his balance. My breath hitches when I feel his warm breath fanning against my neck.

“Then we better move as one.” His voice is low and suggestive when he responds to my complaint. The hand that has now moved to rest at my waist not helping the growing feeling of need.

I shuffle downwards to put myself in a lying position, but freeze as I hear a sharp intake of air from Ridoc, followed by a tightened grip close to my boob. The thought of him being equally as affected by the situation as myself makes my confidence grow. “Sorry.” I whisper, not really meaning it.

He clears his throat before answering. “No worries.” Then he slides down beside me, placing one arm around my midsection. How am I gonna sleep with his mouth this close to my neck?

The sleeping back is tight, leaving almost no place for movement. Its thin fabric provides barely any cushioning from the ground, making me wiggle in place to find a more comfortable position.

A groan is heard from behind me. “I would suggest you stop moving before I do something we both might regret.” His husky voice makes me shiver in anticipation. The suggestion in his warning makes me scream inside. I'm not sure I can control my own arousal for much longer.

I turn my head, causing my jawline to brush against his lips. The bulge I feel against my ass urges me on in my new found conquest. Wiggling a bit more I answer him in an innocent tone. “Don't you want me to be comfortable?”

“I mean it, princess. Don't start the game if you're not ready to finish it.” He almost moans, his lips and teeth gracing my skin. His hand that previously rested around me has now moved lower, fumbling with the edge of my shirt. Butterflies swarm in my stomach. Man does he know what he is doing.

“Ridoc…” I whine, growing more and more desperate for his touch. I angle my head in hope that he gets the hint. One of my hands reaching behind me to trace over his hip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, immediately attacking my neck with his mouth. A stifled moan leaves me in response, spurring him on even more. A trail of marks would surely be visible tomorrow if he continues at this rate.

Meanwhile his hand has taken his way fully under my shirt, brushing the underside of my boob. “Is this okay?” I nod eagerly, not trusting my voice to speak for me.

“Use your words, love.” He halts everything he was doing while waiting for my answer.

“It's okay.” The sudden feeling of his hand kneading my boob in combination with his lips on my neck has sounds of pleasure leaving me. No man has business making me this wet with just some light touches and kisses.

“Shh, princess. As much as I love hearing how I’m affecting you, I'm also selfish and want to keep them to myself.” I stiffen when I remember the presence of the rest of Quest Squad. But the thought is quickly forgotten when Ridoc finds a sweet spot behind my ear. “Good girl.” he praises when I bite back the moan that threatens to escape me.

The more he abuses by breasts and neck in all kinds of ways, the more impatient I become for his fingers to grace my heat. Deciding to take things into my own hands, I begin to grind against his large erection.

“Y/n-” he growls into my ear. With surprising ease, despite the tight sack around us, he turns me around to face him. Before I can react his lips smash against mine, moving in a passionate and needy kiss.

With one hand in my hair he holds my head steady as he takes my breath away with greedy kisses. The other hand moves down to my core, leaving small, teasing touches through the fabric.

I'm practically panting against his lips, bringing up my own arms to tug at his curls. The gesture earns me a small moan, making me grin in response. Oh, how I love the sounds he makes for me.

My eyes are heavy with pleasure, but it doesn't stop me from observing Ridoc's. Pupils dilated and a few shades darker than normal. The hunger with which he’s watching me seems like something taken out of a wet dream. Never in my 22 years of living have I witnessed such arousal in somebody's eyes.

“Please Ridoc-” Desperation for release crawls up on me. The coil in my core pulled tight. At this stage I’m not really sure how I keep my whimpers and moans to myself, or if I do it at all.

“Please what, princess?” The teasing tone he holds only fuels my fire, his fingers working even more efficiently than before.

“So close Ridoc… please.” A change in speed makes me almost come on the spot. This causes a loud moan to leave me, but the thoughts of potential onlookers are long gone.

“That doesn't answer my question, love. Tell me what you want.” Gone is the light hearted, flirty gentleman I’m used to. But God do I love this new side of him. Frustration of being denied my orgasm gnaws on me, but I can't deny that I find it very sexy.

“I want to come, Ridoc. I beg you… Please.” My words come out straind and mostly in whines. The sensation of his finger rubbing me through my trousers making me see stars.

“So pretty when you beg for me. All needy and desperate for my touch.” he whispers in my ear. “Now come for me, my love.” His praise and command leaves no room for argument as I come on the spot. The heavenly sensation of orgasm taking over all my senses.

Ridoc kisses me through it to muffle the moans that escape my swollen lips. His hand is however quick to continue its adventure. Lowering my pants enough to get his hand inside with ease. As I slowly come back to earth from my ecstasy induced state I realize what he is doing.

“So beautiful when you come for me, princess.” He praises in an arousal-laced voice, watching me with hungry eyes. “Not so good at keeping quiet though. What should we do about that, huh?” Though the question seems rhetorical at first, his challenging gaze tells me otherwise.

“I don’t kn-” I'm cut off by the sharp sensation of over stimulation as Ridoc rubs my clit, now without fabric in between. A series of gasps leaving me to prove its effect. He holds me tight as I wiggle to get away from it. Not that I'm really able to anyway, seeing as the sleeping bag seems even smaller than before.

“Too bad…” His other hand trails delicate touches over my body. “I guess I will have to decide myself then.” He slows the pace on my clit, inserting one finger inside me. The new placement does nothing but keep me needy. My whine is returned by a grin of satisfaction, proving that he got the desired outcome.

Releasing one of my hands from the tangle that is his hair, I move it down to his dick. In hope that the teasing I do to him provides me more pleasure, I begin to trace it through his pants. The gesture earns me a quickened breath, but he keeps the torturous pace with his hand. I then move on to unzipping his pants, pawing his erection through his boxers instead.

He growls, grabbing hold of my hand and holds it behind my back. “Only I do the touching tonight, love.” I whine and move to use the hand still in his hair to take over my conquest, but he is quick to grab it, giving me a warning glare.

Withdrawing his hand from my core he releases his cock from his pants, pushing down my own just enough to get better access. “Now be a good girl and keep quiet.”

With that he slams into me, giving me no time to adjust. I bite back the loud moan that threatens to escape me, not wanting to test the waters further. Every thrust takes my breath away, leaving me panting in no time. “Oh God-” The moan slips out of me involuntarily

“I'm honored… Mmm fuuuck, princess. You feel so good, squeezing my cock with your pussy…” Interrupted by my own devlish attempt at distraction by contracting my pelvic floor he starts over. “...I’m honored that you think of me that highly. But Ridoc works just fine, love.” Though my eyes are closed I can hear the amusement in his voice. It's strained and much deeper than normal, making the butterfly in my stomach flutter.

Forcering my eyes open to look at Ridoc I see that he himself is struggling to keep quiet. His eyes meet mine, the heat in them mirroring my own. I gasp as his thumb finds my clit, making me strain against his hold on my wrists. A glare is directed at me, and he tightens the hold. Maybe enough to leave a mark.

He seems to realize this too. His brown eyes flare with possessiveness and a oh so sexy smirk spreads across his face. My reaction does nothing but boost his cockiness. Our staring contest is interrupted by a loud hiss from the both of us. The length of his cock stretching me further than ever before.

“Fuck… I could spend forever watching you take my cock like this.” His breath is hot against my ear. I hum in response letting a small moan leave me when he increases the pace. Every thrust hits the right spot deep within me. I want to scream out in pleasure, but hold it back. My lips now swollen and aching from all the times I've taken them between my teeth to stop a moan.

“Mine” Teeth sink in behind my ear. Oh God. “Who do you belong to, princess?” His voice is demanding, and I live for every second of it.

“You, Ridoc. I belong to you.” Though my breath is ragged, my statement comes out with certainty. His lips connect with mine, hard and desperate. Within the next moment he releases his semen inside of me, our kiss muffling the heavenly sound that leaves him.

The feeling of his cock pulsing inside me has me seeing stars, a reoccurring thing this night it seems. His forehead rests against mine as he comes down from his high. “I hope you didn't expect me to let you come after disobeying me, princess.” He taunts in a hoarse voice, making me whimper.

“Aww, did someone think there wouldn’t be consequences to their actions? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue in feigned pity.

“Here’s what's gonna happen. I will make you come alright. Bring you to the edge over and over again. And you are gonna tell me, every time, when you are close. I'm gonna make you beg for that release like your life depends on it. Only then will I allow you to give into it.” Fuck. I’m down bad. Who would have thought that sweet little Ridoc was such a freak.

He brings his hand down, beginning to run small circles around my bundle of nerves. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” I nod in response, dismissing his concern. He grabs my jaw, making me look him in the eye. “I'm serious Y/n. You have to tell me.” His tone is gentle, yet demanding.

“I promise I will tell you.” My statement is followed with an impossibly long while of edging. Ridoc has me making sounds I didn't know I was capable of, all while muffling them to not earn the attention of others.

I quickly lose count of the times Ridoc has me close to the edge. All I know is that as much as I hate the endless teasing, I love it just as much. The world around us has faded away since long, all that matters is Ridoc’s filthy words and fingers.

“I don't think you understand how beautiful you are right now. All hot and bothered, begging me to please you.” The praise is never ending with this man, something that has made me realize that I do in fact have a praise kink.

“Ridoc, plea-” I’m cut off by the familiar sensation of nearing the edge once again. He chuckles and temporarily removes his touch before starting over at a painfully slow pace.

“You're doing so well, love. Just a few more times, can you do that for me?” He leaves a trail of hot kisses down my neck as he brings me to the edge three more times. Always stopping when I beg to be given my release.

“Please, Ridoc- So fucking close Ridoc, please… I promise I've learnt my lesson… Let me come for you Ridoc… I promise I will be a good girl in the future, please.” The dance around the edge has me squirming, begging on a whole new level. Never in my life have I been so desperate for something, let alone someone.

“As you wish, princess.” He quickens the pace, having me strain against him out of over stimulation. It doesn't take long before I crash, screaming his name into his palm. The orgasm is unlike anything I've ever experienced, causing me to temporarily lose all senses but touch. My body spasm in Ridoc's hold as I continue to let out moans and whimpers that might cause people to wake up.

It takes time for my ecstasy mind to come back to reality. Breath heavy as I open my eyes to meet with Ridoc's. Lust and adoration is what watches me. Accompanied by a smile that screams self satisfaction, the man in front of me is all I could ever dream of. “Thank you.” My voice is small, worn out from the song of pleasure. I lean into his embrace, feeling myself already doze off from exhaustion.

“No need to thank me, love. Now go to sleep, you deserve it.” He leaves a kiss on my forehead, making me smile and nustle closer into his chest, breathing in his scent.

Before any of us have the chance to fall asleep, a grunt comes from beside us. I quickly turn my head, only to be met by Aaric who is now much closer than before. Standing only a few meters away he meets my eye. “Fucking finally.” He mutters, not breaking eye contact. His eyes are dark and lustfull, telling me he’s most likely very affected by mine and Ridoc's ever lasting endeavours. A quick look down and the bulge in his pants confirm my suspicion.

Nor me or Ridoc has the time to utter a word before Aaric turns around and walks away. I turn to Ridoc who meets my gaze. We both stifle a laugh, amused by the whole ordeal. The thought of him watching for God knows how long bothers me surprisingly little. Instead I feel a new found sort of excitement.

“Good night, Ridoc.” I turn around, pressing my back against him and close my eyes.

“Good night, princess.”

[wonustars]

How Deep Is Your Love?

come to me on a winter breeze, keep me warm in your love ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  pairing: wen junhui x f.reader ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  genre: established relationship, fluff, smut (R: mdni 18+) ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  wordcount: 1.5k

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ summary: jun is your biggest fan, and he'd rather spend his new years worshipping you than spend time doing anything else. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  tags/smut tags: whipped!jun, established relationship, readers birthday is jan 1st, new years fic, birthday sex, dom!jun, sub!reader, oral (f. receiving), multiple rounds, rough sex, multiple rounds, spanking, reader is in love with jun's adams apple. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  note: for my jumepi, @junkissed, happy birthday to the oomf that i share my one brain cell with. sharks, im giving you 100% of my company for 10 dabloons. anyways enough silly talk, happy bday jumepi i've already read your comments on the doc and this is my second time posting this lawl. love u sm my queen of huihuis, enjoy your day ♡ (ps jun's balls are non returnable to ammazon). a special thank u to @monamipencil for beta-reading, ily!

“Don’t you think we left too early?” You mutter in between gasps of pleasure. 

The vibrations flowing from Jun’s mouth are hot on your neck as he peppers kisses against your supple skin. He had no reason to stay, not when he could spend time worshiping your body. 

He couldn’t care less about his friend's protests as he rushed the both of you home, ready to give in to his most carnal desires. There was no better way than spending New Year's Day and your birthday tangled between the sheets of your shared apartment. 

As he hastily removes your outerwear and his own, he finds himself slipping into your shared routine. First your coat, then your shoes, then his, and so on… all while his large palms search for the dip in your waist. Jun grips you tightly as his lips capture yours in earnest. The universe knew what they were doing, sending you to him. How else is he meant to spend New Year's if not within your tight cunt? 

“I don’t care if the guys are mad we left early, this is your day.” Jun grunts, wrapping your legs around his torso before making his way to your bedroom. 

“This happens every year, don’t you want to spend the New Year differently?” you retort, but he can only shake his head in protest. 

“If it doesn’t include worshipping my hot girlfriend then I don’t care,” he replies, pulling back to stare at you earnestly. 

Whatever argument you had built on the tip of your tongue dies as he presses your heat against his growing member. The moan that erupts from your throat is raw and high-pitched, a melodic symphony to your boyfriend’s ears.

As the two of you reach your bed, he throws you onto the mattress, knowing how much you love it when he showcases his strength in front of you. The mere thought of overpowering you while slipping himself into your wet hole leaves his cock twitching with desire.   

“Who gave you the right to be so corny?” you snort, propping yourself on the mattress as you watch Jun discard whatever clothing he had left. 

“Like I said, I can’t help it. Gotta show my baby how much I appreciate her,” he shrugs, dipping down into the bed with you. 

His nose rubs against yours affectionately, savouring your saccharine scent. Jun is left dizzy with lust, and most importantly love. One could only hope to feel the same amount of affection he does for you. From the top of your head to the very tip of your toes, he adores everything about you. Fuck everything else, he only needs one thing, one person. 

You. 

With his mind swimming, he drowns himself in your warmth. Fingers tracing the outlines of your bare stomach, trying his best to remove your sweater from your body.

“Enough teasing, please baby,” you whine. 

Jun didn’t think he was teasing at all, but he could never deny himself of your requests. Especially when you talk with such a needy tone. 

As much as he wanted to savour every crevice of your body, he couldn’t delay himself even further. The button of your jeans unclasp, and they’re off your legs within seconds. The denim flies across the room as Jun dives back into your neck, red marks blooming in his wake. 

Your head lolls back, giving him more room to work with. While his breath is hot along your skin, Jun’s hands grip the meat of your thighs. His hands shift higher until they’ve reached the apex of your awaiting sex. 

The whine you let out causes Jun to groan in response, but there’s something more important that awaits him. Tongue sliding against your inner thighs, he indulges himself in the scent of your nectar. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit and he peppers kisses along your folds. 

“F-fuck. Oh fuck! Baby–,” your barely comprehensible blabber is cut off the moment Jun sticks his wet tongue inside you. 

Massaging your folds, he continues to play with your pussy till your legs shake around his head. Your fingers grip the root of his blond hair, his mind blank as he focuses on one thing only. 

Handprints mark your thighs from the sheer strength he’s using to hold you in place, wanting you to succumb to the pleasure, to feel it in your core. Until the very moment your juices cover his lips and chin. 

“You taste like heaven,” Jun groans from underneath you. 

“J-just fuck me. Please, wanna cum with you,” you beg. 

The breath in Jun’s throat hitches, pulling away from your sweet pussy, he sits on his heels. One hand wraps around his hardened length while the other continues to rub on your sensitive bud. Your eyes are lidded with desire, completely fucked out just for him. 

He especially loves the way your cheeks flush whenever you're in a complete state of utter lust. The simple inhale and exhale of your breath, the way it causes your chest to heave in and out. One could only be this lucky to have you as their girlfriend. Jun can’t even come to comprehend what he has done to deserve your very being, but he can at least try to show you how deeply in love he is with you. 

“You ready baby?” He asks, although he knows you simply can’t wait a second longer. 

“Mhm, I love it when you fuck me hard. Will you do it for me? It’s almost my birthday you know,” you whisper, grabbing his hand to pull him over your body. 

Jun’s eyebrows scrunch, his resolve weakened by your voice, your words. 

“Fuck yes, gonna fuck you into the next year,” he mutters before grabbing your thighs once again. 

Your hand snakes its way down between your bodies, his cock hard, pulsating with need. Jun pants above you, waiting for you to align him with your sopping hole. 

The initial push into your tight cunt leaves him breathless, Jun’s thick cock stretching your inner walls with enough force that your eyebrows furrow with a mix of pain and pleasure. Forcing himself into you completely, he begins to move in and out with swift thrusts. The tip of his dick kissing your cervix every time his hips collide with yours. 

“So f-fucking tight,” Jun practically growls, hypnotized by the way your cunt is squeezing him. He can barely breathe. 

Pushing your thighs against your chest, Jun begins to pound into you incessantly. The backboard slams against the wall in tandem with his movements. He presses into you even further, wanting you to feel him in your stomach. 

“J-Jun, fu-uck.” you moan out salaciously, your hands intertwined behind his neck. 

Your lips move to his Adam’s apple, and his groans turn into whiny pants. You’ve always known that he was extra sensitive there, his length twitching inside you while you leave sloppy kisses absent-mindedly. 

His thrusts turn erratic the more attention you pay to his Adam’s apple, and it’s not long before he’s spilling his cum inside you, rutting his hips as he fucks you through his high. 

Although Jun can feel exhaustion wash over him, he doesn’t stop fucking your hot cunt. Hands grasp at your waist, turning you over until your ass is perfectly in his line of sight. A fistful of your hair forces your back to arch, his cock still red and angry as he pushes himself inside you once more. 

“Think you can take more of my cum baby?” He mutters into your ear, tightening his grip on you. 

“I can do it, I promise. Just fuck your cum into me,” you pant before a squeal leaves your lips. Jun’s free hand slaps your ass until it’s covered in handprints. 

“Keep doing that, please. I’m gonna cum,” you beg for him again, eyes watering as you reach the apex of your orgasm. 

Jun does as you ask, slapping you till he can feel your walls clench and unclench with every strike. The flow of juices coming from your pussy coats his cock, triggering another spurt of cum to release inside your spent hole. 

Out of breath and balls emptied Jun slumps onto your back, engulfing you into a tight hug. He refuses to pull out, wanting to stay inside you forever if you allow it. He cranes his neck, the clock on the wall striking midnight. January first. 

“Happy birthday baby, I love you,” Jun whispers in your ear, kissing the nape of your neck.

“I love you too, but can you get off my back? you’re crushing me.” Your face is planted into the pillows, voice muffled. 

“Oh right, hehe sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. 

Finally pulling out of your dripping heat, he manhandles you until you're pressed up against his side—a content sigh leaving his lips. His chest blooms, bliss spreading throughout his limbs. Another year with the love of his life.

 One could only hope to be in love in the same way he is with you. 

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  note: thank you for reading! although this is dedicated to june for her bday, i hope you enjoyed it too :) lmk what u think by leaving a comment or reblog hehe. see u soon - anna ♡

[inseobts]

Time Travel

trafalgar law x fem!reader

what would happen if law finds himself back in the past where the person he secretly loved for years is still alive?

word count: 5.6k

tags: d3ath, time travel, angst, romance

masterlist // ko-fi

The battle had been hard fought, but victory was theirs. The crew of the Polar Tang had emerged victorious against a powerful enemy, though not without their wounds. Law stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes scanning the horizon, his mind too tangled with thoughts to focus on the quiet after the storm.

He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The sharp crackle of energy, a distortion in the very air around him. Before he could even react, the world around him swirled into a blur. His ship, his crew, the ocean—all of it seemed to twist and bend in on itself, until everything went silent.

Law staggered back, the strange sensation of time ripping apart around him leaving him disoriented. He couldn’t even register the shock of it before the world shifted again, and suddenly—

He was back.

But not back where he expected. Not where he was, not on the Polar Tang with his crew.

No.

He was on a ship—but not the one he’d been aboard moments ago. The crew around him was… different. Younger.

He looked around, taking in the familiar faces of his old crew. The same crew, but so much younger than he remembered. Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, and… his younger self.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just an ordinary flashback. This was something else entirely. The situation was surreal...impossible, even. But there they were.

He was back in the past. The year when you were still alive.

The crew sense someone behind them and they all turn alarmed and see him, a familiar but different face. They gather on deck, buzzing with questions. Law stands with them, trying to appear composed despite his inner turmoil. His younger self stares at him with wide eyes, as confused as the rest.

“So… what exactly is going on here?” Younger Law demands, still clutching his sword, his eyes darting between the older version of himself and the others “You… You’re me, aren’t you?”

Law rubs his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. He can’t reveal too much, he doesn't know what happened and why he was there, but one thing he knows is that he can’t change anything that would affect the timeline.

“You could say that” he replies quietly “But I can’t tell you everything. It could alter the future in ways I can’t predict”

The crew watches, sit all around him, eager, full of questions. But Law can’t answer them. Not really.

"You don't look good Captain. It looks like something happened that changed you" Bepo says with a worried face "you look sad and dull"

"Yeah" Penguin nods looking between Law and his younger-form "did something bad happened? To us?"

"I can't say anything, I'm sorry" Law answers.

“Why are you here, then?” Shachi asks, his eyes suspicious but full of curiosity. “If you can’t tell us about the future, why show up? And you keep looking around like you're searching for something”

“I… I didn’t have a choice” Law’s voice is low, strained “I was brought here by someone or something. I can’t explain it. But I’m trying to make sure certain things… stay the same. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you"

Law clenches his fists at his side, wishing he could just tell them everything. But the risks were too high. There was no way to undo the damage if he did.

He shifts uncomfortably “Some things… are better left unknown. It's for your own good too”

Penguin watches him for a moment before lowering his head in understanding “I get it. It’s a lot.”

You, meanwhile, looked at the scene from afar. You were in the usual spot you used to hide in, watching quietly. You’re studying Law with an odd curiosity, but you’re noticing how different he looks from the man you knew.

Eventually, the questions begin to fade away, and the crew starts to break apart for the evening, everyone heading off in different directions.

Law feels a presence behind him and turns, seeing you walking toward him.

As you walk toward him, you see his face completely change expression, becoming one full of sadness and regrets.

He stands up abruptly.

“You’re not gonna run off, are you?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

He blinks at you, surprised “I wasn’t planning to”

You tilt your head, studying him closely “It’s a little… overwhelming, isn’t it? All these questions, all these things you can’t talk about”

He stares at you, unsure how to answer. The weight of seeing you alive again is heavier than he could’ve imagined. Your smile is just as he remembers. Your eyes—the same ones he fell for so long ago—hold a curious warmth.

You break the silence again, your voice softer now “So… I promise I won't tell anyone. What happens to us in the future?”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Law wants to tell you. He wants to share everything with you... to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he regrets never telling you before. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t risk changing anything. If he tells you too much, it could cause a ripple that would undo everything.

“You know I can’t say anything” Law says, his voice quiet, almost strained “I wish I could. But I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to change anything.”

You nod, almost as if you knew that would be his answer. You glance down at your hands, your expression thoughtful.

“Right… So I guess I won’t get any answers” You look up at him again, eyes searching his face for something “Well, there’s one thing I can ask that’s… probably safe.”

Law blinks, confused “What?”

You hesitate for a moment before asking softly, “Are we together? In the future, I mean. Are we… together?”

The question hits him like a bolt of lightning. His heart races, the truth weighing on him like a ton of bricks.

He realizes, suddenly, painfully, that he never really knew for sure if you felt the same. He never got the chance to know because he lost you before he could even confess his true feelings. And now, here you are, asking him, and he can’t give you the answer you deserve.

It was always a mutual love, but he never knew it. Not until now.

Law opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too caught up in the truth of it, in the painful realization that he should have said something sooner.

You smile, regret in your face for asking him that. You look down to avoid his eyes "I take it as a no..."

“I… I don’t know” he mutters finally, his voice barely above a whisper “I don’t know what happens.”

You smile faintly, as if you believe his lie “It’s okay. I guess… I guess I’ll just have to live to find out later on, right?”

He watches you for a moment longer, the pain of it all almost unbearable. You smile again, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Later that evening Law walks quietly through the ship, his mind racing. He stops at the railing and looks out at the ocean, his thoughts heavy.

He wishes that you could survive, that you don't have to die the way you did. But how can he change the past without destroying everything else? Is it selfish of him if he is actually thinking about destrying the whole future to let you live?

Then he sees it—his younger self, standing on the deck, staring at you from a distance. The longing in his eyes is so clear, so painfully obvious.

Young Law’s gaze lingers on you, a soft expression on his face. He’s too scared, too silent, too unsure to say anything.

Now that Law knows about your feelings he wants to push his young-self into doing what he's so scared to do. Even if he can't change the future he wants the two of you to talk your hearts out so that in the future you won't die with the regret, so that he himself don't have to live with the same regret. Maybe the time you two have together isn't a lot but it's enough for living your love just a bit.

Law approaches him quietly, careful not to interrupt his thoughts. “You need to tell her,” he says softly “Before it’s too late.”

The younger Law turns, surprised, but doesn’t ask for clarification. He just looks back at you, still holding back, unsure.

“I can’t make you do anything, but if you wait, you might lose your chance forever” Law continues, his voice low, filled with the pain of his own unspoken words.

The younger Law says nothing, his gaze still focused on you. But after a long pause, he nods, a soft resolve settling in his eyes.

The next few days pass in a haze for Law. He tries to focus on the mission at hand, hoe to go back to his timeline and on the reason he was sent back in time—something about the crew’s safety and preventing a dangerous chain of events. But all he can think about is you, and the heartbreaking truth that he can’t tell you.

The most painful part is knowing that he’s already seen your death. He’s already lived through the pain of losing you, but now, seeing you alive again—alive in this timeline—he feels a gnawing desperation. He doesn't want that future to happen.

Later, on deck Law finds himself standing near the railing, staring out at the vast ocean as the crew moves around the ship. His thoughts are dark, clouded with regret, and he can’t seem to shake the image of you from his mind.

That push on his younger self wan't enough, but he can't risk more. His younger self, as always, is keeping to himself, sitting off to the side, hands on his sword. He’s quieter than usual, his eyes often drifting toward you—toward the woman he loves but hasn’t yet realized if and how to confess.

Law can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. It’s a sharp, frustrated exhale, the weight of all the things he wants to say but can’t. It’s a constant battle in his head, fighting against the rules of time and destiny.

“Everything okay, Captain?” Shachi’s voice breaks through his thoughts.

Law turns to him, forcing a tight smile “Yeah. Just thinking”

Shachi looks at him, clearly sensing the tension, but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he glances toward where younger Law is sitting, looking at you from a distance.

“Hey, what’s up with the kid?” Shachi asks “He’s been acting kind of… strange, lately.”

Law looks over, his gaze following Shachi’s. His younger self is staring at you, his expression distant but soft. There’s something in the way he watches you, something that Law recognizes all too well—longing, fear, hesitation.

“He’s… figuring things out” Law mutters, his voice heavy. He’s been hoping that his younger self would listen to him—that he would understand, act before it’s too late. But part of him still feels a lingering doubt.

“You think he’s gonna do something about it?” Shachi continues, raising an eyebrow “It’s kind of obvious he, or you for what it can mean, is in love with her”

“I actually don't know but I hope so” Law says, more to himself than to anyone else “I hope so”

Shachi nods and is about to leave when Law stops him "Tell me... was I always so obvious?"

He looks shocked to hear is Captain asking this but compose himself into a soft smile "We all knew from the beginning that you love her, you started acting different as soon as she arrived here. On the other hand y/n is more difficult to read"

This makes Law lose himself in thoughts again. The whole crew knew, this means they have a lot of regrets as well for what happened to you, to the both of you.

Later that nigh, the crew sits around the table, sharing a quiet meal. You’re there, of course, laughing with the others, the familiar warmth of your presence filling the room. Law can’t help but glance at you from time to time. He’s only allowed to watch you from a distance now, but it’s a sharp, painful reminder of everything he never said.

He catches sight of his younger self, who’s watching you too. This time, however, there’s something different in his expression. His eyes aren’t just filled with longing, they’re filled with determination.

His younger self stands suddenly, pushing his chair back and leave the crew confused. For a moment, Law feels a surge of hope. His younger self is acting on it. He’s going to do something.

On deck, under the stars, Young Law walks toward you, the weight of what he’s about to do heavy on his shoulders. You’re sitting by the edge of the ship, looking out at the night sky, lost in thoughts. When you hear him approach, you turn, offering him a warm, friendly smile.

“You sure you should be out here alone?” he asks, his voice hesitant “It’s a bit… quiet.”

You tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes “Isn’t that the point of being alone? You should try it sometime.”

He pauses, taking in your words, your smile. His heart beats harder in his chest, unsure of how to proceed. He’s always been like this—silent, holding back, afraid to say the things he really feels.

But now, after hearing Law’s advice, he knows what he needs to do.

“I… I need to tell you something” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued “What’s that?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He’s scared, but the truth has to come out “I… I like you. I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve always… I’ve always liked you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. But then, you smile, and it’s so bright, so genuine, that his chest aches with relief.

“I’m glad you finally said something” you reply softly “I… I’ve always felt the same way.”

His heart stops. The words hit him like a wave crashing over him, drowning him in warmth and hope “Wait… you do?”

You laugh softly, your eyes glimmering in the moonlight “Of course. It was pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Young Law smiles, a small but relieved smile. He’s never felt this light before, this certain. For the first time, he’s no longer holding back.

Present-Law watching the scene from afar with the crew. Tears in his eyes because now he knows you got the chance to love each other even if for a short time.

Suddenly there's a blinding light and a few moments later when Law opens his eyes again he finds himself laying in a bed in the nurse of the Polar Tang. His mind is spinning..

He returns to the Polar Tang, to his crew, to the present. Was is all a dream? What actually happened?

Bepo at his side, sleeping.

He gets up waking him up and confused, the first thing Law asks "Did I ever got the chance to confess my feelings to y/n?"

"Captain are you okay? Why suddenly ask that?" Bepo says panicking.

Law sigh and firmly add "Just answer".

He's scared, he's scared it was all just a dream. Scared you died without knowing about his feelings just has it actually happened. Scared that maybe you actually never reciprocated his feelings, his love.

"Of course you did"

Law's eyes widened, his heart beating fast as never before. It wasn't a dream. He was actually able to change that small but important part of the past. You died knowing about his love. He lost you but not without giving you his full love.

He gets up and steps onto the deck.

There you are. Standing right in front of him, alive, vibrant, and here.

He stops, unable to breathe for a moment. His mind races. This can’t be right. He’s seen you die. He’s seen your body fall—he’s seen everything. But now you’re here, smiling at him like nothing ever happened.

“y/n?” He barely manages to choke out your name, his voice filled with disbelief.

You smile at him, a familiar, gentle smile “You finally woke up. What’s wrong, Captain? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Law’s world tilts on its axis. He can’t understand it. He doesn’t know how this is possible—how you’re alive in front of him now.

But there’s only one explanation: the confession. His younger self’s confession. Somehow, it saved you.

He watches you, stunned, his chest tightening as emotions flood him.

“I—I thought I… I thought you…” he stammers.

You tilt your head, noticing his confusion “What’s the matter?”

The weight of it all is too much for him. He can’t speak, can’t form the words. But deep inside, he knows this is it—the moment when everything changed. The future he thought was set in stone, the future that broke him, had shifted. And you… you were still alive.

He shakes his head, trying to collect himself. He knows he’s seeing you right in front of him, alive, as if the death he witnessed in the past never happened. He swallows, his throat tight, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming rush of emotions.

“You… You’re…” He struggles to speak, but the confusion weighs him down. It’s not just the shock of seeing you alive—it’s everything that led to this moment, everything that shouldn’t have happened.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer to him “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No” Law says finally, his voice hoarse “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I don’t understand.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice soft with concern, breaking through the tangle of thoughts in his head.

Law doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know what to say to you, not when everything feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. He’s terrified that this shift in fate—this small change—could lead to something even worse.

“I’m fine” he says, forcing a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His mind is still racing, trying to process what’s happened. He doesn’t know how this happened—how the timeline could have been altered so drastically—but he knows one thing for sure.

“You’re here” he repeats, as if the words will make sense of the situation “You’re alive.”

You blink, a little confused by his intensity “Well, of course I’m alive, Captain. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A sharp pain stabs at Law’s chest as he recalls the past—the version of the future where you were dead. It had been so final, so irreversible. The pain of losing you had been one of the deepest regrets of his life. But now? Now, there’s a chance, maybe a small one, but still a chance, that things could be different.

The realization crashes over him like a tidal wave.

He looks at you again, this time with a weight that wasn’t there before. You’re alive. You’re here. And he didn’t have to lose you, not like before. His younger self had given him a second chance, and now… he has to hold on to that. He has to protect it.

He runs to close the distance between you two and hugs you like he never has. You're too schocked to move at first but then you put your hands around him.

Later, in the crew’s quarters, Law lies awake in his hammock, his thoughts spinning out of control. How could things change so quickly, so drastically? He can’t understand it. He should have never interfered, never given that advice to his younger self. But then again, he couldn’t let you die "again" without knowing that you were loved.

A soft knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to ask who it is.

“Come in” he says quietly.

The door creaks open, and there you are, standing in the doorway. You look at him with a slight frown, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re still awake” you say, your voice gentle “Everything okay? You’ve been acting… different.”

Law sits up slightly in his hammock, his heart racing again. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, and right now, his emotions are a whirlwind. How could he explain to you what he’s feeling? How could he tell you what’s going on in his head when he barely understands it himself?

“I’m… fine” he says, though it feels like a lie. He’s anything but fine. “Just thinking.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, and sit down on the chair across from him. “About what?”

“About… everything” he mutters “About how things are different now.”

You look at him, studying him closely. You can tell something’s weighing on him “Different how?” you ask, your voice soft but insistent.

He looks at you, torn between the need to protect you and the crushing urge to be honest. But he’s afraid of what that honesty might cost him. He’s afraid that if he tells you too much, it will change everything again.

“You wouldn’t understand” he says, his voice low. He can’t bring himself to explain the truth, at least not now.

You fake to be offended with a funny expression, and he loves when you do that because it makes you even cuter. You study him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding something, you stand and walk over to him. Without a word, you reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.

“I understand more than you think” you say quietly, your fingers warm against his skin “You don’t have to carry all this on your own. You don’t have to hide from me.”

The softness in your voice, the warmth of your touch, cracks something deep inside him. His chest tightens, his breath catching in his throat. How could he have been so blind to what was right in front of him all this time?

He looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since he arrived in this timeline, and suddenly, he sees it all... the way you care for him, the way you’ve always been there, despite the unspoken distance between you. He realizes that he never really understood the depth of your feelings until now, and maybe that’s what changed. Maybe that’s the gift he was given, a second chance to finally get it.

“You’re right" he whispers, his voice thick with emotion “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

You look at him in surprise, your eyes widening slightly “What do you mean?”

He swallows hard, gathering the courage to say the words that have been buried deep inside him for so long.

“I… I love you” he says quietly, but with absolute certainty. The words feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the truth finally out in the open.

You smile, a small but genuine smile, and take a step closer to him “I think I’ve known that for a while”

You both sit in silence for a moment, you studying him while he's still lost in his thoughts. The weight of the admission must hit you differently, given all the strange tension and confusion his behavior has caused since his return to the present. But then you speak, and your words pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I love you too” you say, your tone light but sincere “I mean, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes, and you’ve got this whole ‘broody loner’ thing that’s exhausting to keep up with, but… yeah. I love you, idiot”

The way you say it, so unguarded, so natural, he didn't realise how much he needed to hear those words until now, even though they come from you here, in this altered present.

He exhales a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair “You really don’t make things easy, do you?”

You smirk, stepping closer to him, your arms crossing over your chest “That’s part of my charm”

Law shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite the heaviness still clinging to him. For the first time since he returned to this timeline, he feels lighter—like the crushing weight of regret and grief that had followed him for years is finally lifting.

But there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind. Did he truly rewrite the future, or is this just a fleeting moment of borrowed time? And if things really have changed, how much has been altered?

You notice him deep in thought again, so you lean in and press a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. The sudden gesture pulls him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at you, his expression of surprise. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Captain, why the shocked face? We’ve done worse than this” you tease, offering him a playful wink as you start walking towards the door “Sleep well now.”

On the Polar Tang, it doesn’t take long for the crew to notice the shift between you and Law.

“Uh, are you two… okay?” Shachi asks, looking back and forth between the two of you as you stand side by side on the deck.

You raise an eyebrow “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dunno. Maybe because since the day he fainted, Captain here looks like he saw the ghost of his past mistakes?” Penguin says.

“Enough” Law snaps, his voice low but firm. He doesn’t need the crew making a spectacle of this, not when he’s still trying to make sense of everything himself.

You, on the other hand, seem entirely unfazed by their reactions. You smirk, leaning against the railing with an air of casual confidence. “What’s the matter, Captain? Wanna give them something to really talk about?”

Law groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin, but somehow, it feels different now, lighter, even.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” he mutters, turning his back to them and stalking off toward the ship’s interior.

But as he walks away, he catches the faint sound of your laughter behind him, and for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t sting.

Later that evening, Law finds himself alone in his quarters, staring down at a stack of charts and papers he’s been meaning to sort through. But his mind isn’t on his work, it’s on you, on the way your presence has started to fill the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

He still doesn’t know how this timeline shift works. Did his advice to his younger self truly rewrite everything? And if so, how much of the past is still the same? Did your future really change or is it just temporary?

His thoughts spiral as he recalls the moment his younger self finally confessed to you. It was a subtle nudge, a small push in the right direction, but it had changed everything. If his younger self hadn’t listened, if he hadn’t acted, would you still be gone? Would you have died with regrets, with unspoken feelings left between you?

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see you standing there, leaning casually against the frame.

“Captain” you say, your tone light but teasing “You’re brooding again.”

He sighs, gesturing for you to come in “What do you want?”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you “Just checking on you. You’ve been acting really weird lately”

Law leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest “I’m fine now”

“You always say that” you reply, walking over to stand in front of his desk “But we both know it’s not true. So what’s really going on?”

For a moment, he considers brushing you off, keeping the truth locked away like he always does. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and he sees the concern in your eyes, the genuine care that you’ve always shown him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

And he realizes that maybe, just this once, he doesn’t have to carry the weight alone.

“I…” he hesitates, the words catching in his throat “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his admission, but you don’t interrupt, giving him the space to continue.

“There was a time when you weren’t here” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion “And it was… unbearable. I didn’t know how to fix it, how to stop it. And now…” He looks down at his hands, his fingers curling into fists. “Now, you’re here, and I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s just another cruel trick.”

You take a step closer to him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm “I’m here, Law,” you say softly “I was always here with you and I'll always be. Whatever happened, whatever you went through… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he sees is the same fierce determination that he’s always admired in you.

For the first time since his return to the present, he feels a flicker of hope, hope that maybe, just maybe, this new future is something he can hold on to.

Most of the crew is asleep, leaving Law in the solitude of his quarters. He stares out of the small circular window, his mind a battlefield of thoughts. He knows he should be relieved, grateful, that you’re alive, but a part of him can’t let go of the fear. The fear that this could all slip away in an instant.

The soft creak of the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you.

“You’re still awake... again” you say, your voice quiet but firm.

He sighs, his back still to you “I could say the same to you.”

“Touché.” You step further into the room, and the door clicks softly shut behind you “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself.

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it “Funny. But seriously, I’ve been thinking about… us.”

That makes him turn. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he feels his breath catch in his throat.

“What about us?” he asks, his voice low.

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. About how you were afraid you’d lost me.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away “I shouldn’t have said that. It was selfish.”

“No, it wasn’t” you say firmly, closing the distance between you “It was honest. And I don’t want you to think you have to keep all of that to yourself anymore.”

Law exhales, running a hand through his hair “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper “I’ve seen what it’s like to lose you. I’ve lived with it. And I don’t know if I can do that again.”

Your heart aches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Without thinking, you reach out and place a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You won’t lose me” you say softly “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He looks down at you, his eyes searching yours. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to explain, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests against his chest.

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. And then, almost imperceptibly, he leans down, his forehead brushing against yours.

“y/n…” he murmurs, his voice trembling.

You close your eyes, leaning into him. “I’m here, Law. I’m right here. We chose a life that’s unpredictable as pirates. I know that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t allow ourselves to love. Do you think it would hurt less if we didn’t use the time we have together to love each other? Because I don’t think so. In fact, I think the opposite.”

Something inside him breaks at your words, the walls he’s so carefully constructed over the years crumbling in an instant. He tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss.

The contact sends a jolt through both of you, and for a moment, neither of you moves. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. It’s not hurried or frantic, it’s soft and deliberate, a silent promise that neither of you is willing to let go of this moment.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits, a small, nervous laugh escaping.

You chuckle softly as his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like the weight of the world isn’t resting on his shoulders.

“I mean it, Law” you say, your voice serious now. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He nods, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you” he murmurs against your hair.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to hope, for you, for him, for a future that no longer feels so uncertain.

[kouzih]

Freak. (pt2)

Nam-gyu ( Player 124 ) x gn!reader .ᐟ

warnings : insulting, spitting/saliva/drooling, biting, fingering, smut obviously, there's probably more but i'm too lazy to write 'em all..

tags,, @gongyoosgf , @dolion87

(cheers y'all!! 🥂) no proofread sorry, might have typos :(

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ You woke up with a headache, you hadn't been able to sleep for half the night anyway. Most people were still asleep, a good thing. You didn't see any reason to get out of your bed, your foot would naturally follow his path. Thinking back to the last night, you realize that your cheeks are starting to warm up. It's as if your sleep hasn't affected your recovery that much. But you can't get anything done by sleeping any more, so you figured you could use the bathroom.

You rubbed your eyes as you lazily threw your sheets aside, trying to walk down the metal stairs as quietly as you could so as not to wake the others. When you're at the bottom of the stairs, you arch your back to stretch. Causing a tiny whimper to come out of your mouth. You looked around to see if anyone else would stand up and go to the bathroom, but it looked like you would be the only one. At least there won't be anyone to bother you. As you make your way inside, you realize that there is no one. As you slowly close your door, you feel another hand holding, causing you to lighten your grip.

"Oh- sorry. I didn't think anyone would come." You mumbled, turning your head towards the sink in front of you. You turned on the tap,leaned over and let the cold water hit your face, hoping it would wake you up. But you couldn't hear any footsteps... except the sound of the door closing again. When you looked from the edge of the mirror, you saw Nam-gyu walking with a jumping gait, his head imitating the rhythm. You felt your body suddenly freeze there, your hands supporting themselves on the edges of the sink as water beads fell down from your face, the wet ends of your hair sticking to your face.

You heard him click his tongue, his head tilting slightly to the left side as he tucked the hair behind his ear. "You're soaked for me huh?" You squint your eyes and adjust your position so that you can see him more easily. Your eyes didn't stop watching him in the mirror as his steps approached behind you, his expression was indecipherable. Before you could open your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Don't even use your words to waste my time," One of his hands moves towards your elbow and slowly caresses it until it reaches your hand. "After last night, you didn't oven come to thank me.." The ends of his hair brushed behind your ear, making you feel smaller underneath him. "Not gonna lie, I'm hurt."

He was looking at you from the mirror and making eye contact, you felt your eyes tremble. One of his hands was lifting your cardigan up, allowing him to touch your bare skin. You wanted to turn your face to him but he didn't let you. Pressing his chest against your back, he dug his nails into your waist hard enough to make you hiss. "Nuh-uh..what do you think you're doing?" He rested his face on your shoulder, his eyes were examining your body in the mirror. His knee caressed the side of your leg, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you made room for him to reach your neck. Your eyes went to the corner of the mirror, the pinkness on your face making the man on top of you enjoy it even more.

As soon as the grip on your hand momentarily left, your eyes began searching for his hand. Only to realize he began playing with the zipper on the top of your cardigan. His hands shake the small metal lightly but his eyes weren't measuring your reaction, it was like he was busy with something else on his mind.. A barely audible sigh and your murmur cause him to lift his head. Caressing the top of his fingers, you lower the zipper, lazily brushing the fabric and hair around your neck back, revealing bare skin.

"You better be quick.."

"Relax, bitch." One finger went under your chin while the other wrapped around your throat. "You won't even realize how time passed."

You closed your eyes tightly, silently begging him to leave you alive. The hand that grips your bare skin slides up and down with such force that it touches the bones of your ribcage. He tilts your head even further to the side, forcing you to hold a very uncomfortable position. Nam-gyu's warm breath against your skin as he inhales your scent causes your body to shiver. His grip keeps you standing as your hands slip from the sink due to stress. His tongue tastes your neck, and the feeling of a few bites makes you part your lips. "M-mhm.." You couldn’t hold back your breathless moans anymore, noticing that your voice was rising Nam-gyu increased the pressure on his knee and mumbles something under his breath, but you were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t hear it at all. He starts to press his chest harder as he sucks on your neck, you could swear you felt a bone in your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, you heard Nam-gyu let out a loud moan. Definitely not loud enough to reach others. He insults himself under his breath as he removes his hand from your chin. A few drops of sweat run down the corners of your chin due to overwhelm, and you have a chance to swallow as you forcefully hold back your tears. Nam-gyu's hand goes to his own mouth, wrapping his fingers tightly around it so that his voice cannot be heard. Even if you try to fix your position, all you could was letting your forehead hit the mirror. Nam-gyu, on the other hand, took his hand out from under your t-shirt and started to move downwards.

The moment you realized that he was going to do what was on your mind, you quickly tried to lift yourself up by leaning one hand on the mirror, but when you felt a finger inside you, you could only cover your mouth and let out a muffled moan. "Y-you cant just..mhm.." Without warning you, he added a second finger, curving his fingers inside you. "Thought you wanted me to be quick..bitch." Nam-gyu takes his hand off his mouth and grabs your waist, suddenly pulling your body. The fact that you look like you're falling apart just by his touch makes him even more turned on. Hissing at you between breaths, he twirls his fingers inside you in a way that almost makes you faint.

Just a few seconds before reaching heaven, Nam-gyu pulls his fingers out while sucking on his teeth. "Don't think I'll let you finish that easily. Not before you beg me." Before you could even answer him, you lose your balance and try to hold on to him. But you only cause him to fall onto his back. You try to support yourself with your hands, your head hitting his shoulder. "Motherfucker..are you being serious." Nam-gyu moves into a sitting position as he rub his head, you still feel his hardness underneath you since you’re sitting on his lap. Your eyes drift to a pill that has fallen from the side of his pocket, and as you furrow your eyebrows, you see his hand quickly grab the pill from the side.

"Don't even try." He spits in your face before you can open your mouth as he glares at you angrily, causing your head to shake slightly. "Your ass ain't deserve this reward. Useless.." After letting out an irritated breath, you reach for the hem of your cardigan to wipe your face, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist. Nam-gyu pulls your hand down as he looks at you from below, one eyebrow raised. Throwing his head back he rolls his eyes, throwing your wrist aside. "..Fuck, you won't let me cum, will ya?" As he chews his cheek, he remembers the pill in his hand. "..Good thing you're good at being a slut." Nam-gyu changes his position slightly so that he can place one leg behind you, placing your hands on his shoulders as your confused expression follows his movements. After placing the pill on the tip of your tongue, Nam-gyu opens his mouth slightly and tilts his head up slightly, a signal for you to suck on it.

After swallowing, your grip on his shoulders tightens, and you pin your knees to the sides of his waist. As you were about to taste his lips, he allows the pill to slide off into his mouth and pushes your head tightly against his lips from the back. You respond to his push beneath his muddled moans, one hand gripping his hair as you tilt your head to the side to have more access. Even though you keep your eyes tightly shut, Nam-gyu watches you with his eyes half-open. You could swear he was smiling into the kiss. As his tongue conquers yours, you suck into his tongue. A few pieces of the broken pill pass right into your mouth. Nam-gyu smothers you with sloppy kisses without even letting you swallow before he pulls his head back for a few seconds. A small chuckle falling from his lips as he licks his lips. He uses his free hand to lean himself against the door of the nearest stall as he watches you swallow, each other’s hot breaths hitting your faces.

The slightly wet, pulsating bone between your legs makes you tilt your head down. You couldn't figure out what your next move should be as he looked at you with a passionate gaze that you couldn't read. "Hah..nevermind." You suddenly crash onto his lips after his eyes glanced to the side, towards the door. Making him gasp and let out a shaky breath, you caused him to hit his head on the stall's door. You pull away for breath after a long kissing session, your lips parted as his saliva drools into yours.

Noticing the tense expression on your face, Nam-gyu pushes you back, leaning his head against the door behind him and taking deep breaths. A toothy smile forms on his face as he lets both hands fall to his sides. "Fucking hell.." As his eyes drift downward, a loud voice catches both of your attention.

"Nam-suuuu!! Where are you bro!?" As you look at him with wide eyes, he quickly pulls you to your feet with him. Nam-gyu opens the door behind him and pushes you in. You hear the sound of clothes crinkling as he clears his throat. He quickly turns on the water and lets it hit his face. You hear him taking heavy breaths as you put both hands on your mouth to try to control your breathing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.." Nam-gyu, who was surprised when the door opened, lefts a nervous chuckle.

"Hey."

"The fuck happened bro..look at you man!" You witnessed their footsteps and conversation for a few minutes. Nam-gyu, who had lied about the water suddenly exploding in his face, cleared his throat before leaving. You let out a shaky breath, leaning your hands on the door behind you. "If I see that guy one more time..I swear to god-" You opened the door slowly, brushing the hair that was stuck to your face, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

He really did tore you apart.

Fuck.