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rubyreduji · 11 months ago

Text

king size bed — kmg & jjk

summary: mingyu has a problem: he's in love with his best friend's girlfriend. but does it go deeper than that, in ways that maybe even mingyu doesn't realize?

tags: smut (minors dni!), p.rnstar!au warnings: gyu is kind of a perv, explicit unprotected sex, filming explicit content, sending nudes, masturbation, sexting, fingering (f. rec), oral (m. + f. rec), threesome, cuckolding, creampie, cum eating, hair pulling, double penetration, anal, kinda voyeurism, multiple orgasms, squirting, maybe mingyu is a little bisexual in this…for only a second wc: 10.1k an: this idea came to me randomly and i quite literally ascended to heaven and then fell straight down to hell and produced this :D also this fic is very mingyu centric as it’s told in his pov (sorry armys who may find this)

Mingyu wants to go home.

Around him, the walls thump to the music blasting throughout the club. If this was four years ago and he was still in college this would be great, but it’s not. All Mingyu does is sit in a booth and stare at the dance floor, watching as the bodies grind up against each other.

The reason Mingyu is even out tonight is to try and find someone to take home, but he’s not in the mood. All of his recent hook ups have been unsuccessful and he’d rather go home and try his luck with his trusty fist rather than try and flirt with some half-drunk, half-interested person in a stuffy, overly noisy club.

It’s not like Mingyu doesn’t want to get his dick wet, he’s honestly been more horny recently than he ever has been, but for some reason the idea of going home and watching porn sounds much better than actually trying to get with someone here. Maybe Mingyu has a problem, or maybe it’s because of Mingyu’s most recent discovery.

He’s not sure how he lucked out so bad, but one day all of his normal Twitter porn creators weren’t doing it for him, and he happened to stumble across a new page. A reblog from one of the accounts he already followed. The person in the video was stunning. No face, but still the most beautiful body Mingyu has ever seen.

When he clicked on the account he was surprised to see such a small following on the account, only to find out the creator only started posting recently. It’s needless to say that Mingyu spent the rest of the night jacking off to the few photos and videos on her page. “Sweetheart” that’s what her screen name was listed as.

Even since discovering her, Mingyu’s become slightly obsessed and he’s taken liberty to getting off to her almost every night, even going as far as to subscribe to the content she has behind a paywall.

Mingyu’s not sure why he’s so attached to her. Maybe it’s her soft aesthetic or the way she’s like a little secret gold mind he found. Or maybe it’s because she reminds Mingyu of….

He glances across the room, his eyes landing on where his best friend stands. Jungkook is leaned up against the bar, a small smirk on his face, his arm wrapped around the waist of the prettiest girl inside the whole club. Your body is pressed up against Jungkook’s as you press your lips to your boyfriend’s neck, marking his skin up with your lipstick.

You’re dressed in a tight, short dress colored in the most flattering shade of red. Mingyu’s favorite color. He does his best to not focus on your tits and the way your cleavage is accentuated by your dress, barely held up by the skinny straps on your shoulders.

Mingyu knows it’s an issue. He shouldn’t have such a huge crush on his best friend’s girlfriend, and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking of you like that either. Especially when you’re his friend as well. It’s not like he wants to, but he can’t help but think that you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever met. Inside and out.

You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend though, and he would never make a move on you or ever make you uncomfortable. Though, that doesn’t stop him from doing very shameful things in the dead of night, locked away in his bedroom, his hand wrapped around his cock as his eyes are trained on the video of the girl that reminds Mingyu of you just a little too well.

Mingyu must have gotten lost in his thoughts, staring at you, and when he focuses in again, he makes eye contact with Jungkook. The younger man winks at his best friend before guiding you out of the club. Mingyu’s eyes trail after you two the whole time, and he already knows you two are off to go fuck. If he’s being honest, you two most likely won’t even make it out of the parking lot, taking advantage of the tinted windows on Jungkook’s car.

The whole reason Mingyu even came tonight was to appease Jungkook, and now that the other man has left, Mingyu takes that as his cue to leave as well. The drive back to Mingyu’s apartment feels like an eternity and all he wants to do is crawl into bed, masturbate, and go to bed.

And yeah, maybe it is a little sad. Jacking off at home alone while his best friend fucks the girl of his dreams while all he can do is imagine it’s him in his place, but it’s not like there’s any other options.

Now if Mingyu was really being childish, you were always Mingyu’s first.

You two went to the same high school together, but you two didn’t get close until college. You had a gen-ed together and when Mingyu was the only familiar face in the room, you latched on. Mingyu didn’t mind, you were sweet and funny and always let Mingyu study in your dorm when his roommates were too loud.

Later, after Mingyu and Jungkook became best friends, that’s when the three of you started to form a friend group. Then you and Jungkook started to hang out one and one, and eventually those hang outs turned into dates, and now three years later, even after graduating college, you two are still going strong.

Mingyu’s only a little salty, maybe it’s because Jungkook knew Mingyu had something for you, or maybe it’s because really if it wasn’t for him Jungkook wouldn’t have even met you. It doesn’t matter though, because in the end you got with Jungkook and Mingyu respects that.

When Mingyu finally gets home he’s quick to lock his door and drop his pants, crawling into his bed and pulling up Twitter. Right on the top of his feed is a post from Sweetheart and Mingyu groans. She’s dressed in a pair of sexy red lingerie panties, and it automatically makes Mingyu think of the dress you had on tonight. That’s not the best part of the photo though, no the best part is the fact she's not wearing a bra, her chest bare and her nipples staring right at Mingyu.

His cock is already hard, it’s been hard since he watched you kiss up and down Jungkook’s neck, and he shoves his hand into his boxers unceremoniously to pull his cock out. He spits into his palm before wrapping it around his length and starting to pump.

He clicks on Sweetheart’s page, hoping she’s posted more or something, and he’s grateful to see a post from only a few minutes ago.

Live show on my OnlyCarats, come check it out ;)

Mingyu’s finger is clicking on the link in record time and it takes the video a moment to load before his screen reveals Sweetheart. She’s still in the pretty red panties from earlier, but now they’re pushed to the side as she slides her fingers in and out of her wet pussy. She’s laid out on a large bed, dressed in all white bedding that contracts nicely against the panties.

Sweetheart has done a few live videos before, but this is the first one Mingyu has been able to watch in real time, rather than a video uploaded after the live. He’s entranced as he watches her finger fuck her pussy. She’s letting out soft pants as she gets lost in her pleasure.

“F-fuck,” Mingyu whines. His hand is slick with pre-cum as he pumps his cock furiously in his fist.

Mingyu wonders if you’re going to pull out a dildo, like you sometimes do in your videos, but rather another person appears on camera.

Clearly the body is a male figure, clad in black slacks and a black dress shirt. Sweetheart has done a few photos and videos with a guy before, but Mingyu’s never seen him in one of her lives before. It’s not that he minds too much, but a part of him wishes that he could stay pretending like the whole thing was for him, that he was the only person watching.

Mingyu can’t dwell on his disappointment though, because the man in the video is unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. It’s big, though Mingyu doesn’t think it’s bigger than his own. The man grabs the camera before laying back, allowing Sweetheart to climb on top of him.

She grinds against him for a little bit before lifting herself up and lining the man’s cock up to her entrance. Mingyu can see the way her legs tremble as she sinks down, and suddenly Mingyu doesn’t mind the other guy too much. From the angle he’s filming at, it’s almost like Sweetheart is riding Mingyu, and that drives him just a little bit insane.

Mingyu pumps his fist at the same speed Sweetheart is bouncing on the man’s cock, imagine that it’s Sweetheart…imagining that it’s you. Mingyu whimpers and bucks his hips up, letting himself get lost in the fantasy.

Now Mingyu can’t get the idea of you in his lap, your thighs straddling his as your pussy clamps down around him, out of his head. He thinks about your soft tits and how they’d bounce as you rode him, his cock hitting inside of you deep and rough.

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to let out a strangled moan as his cock twitches and he spills cum all over his hand. He lays in bed, his chest heaving with his pants. Mingyu opens his eyes and glances at his phone to see Sweetheart’s body trembling as she cums as well. Mingyu watches intently as Sweetheart pulls herself off of the man’s cock, his cum dripping out of her as she does so.

Sweetheart ends the live soon after and Mingyu gets up to clean himself off. He decides to take a shower, scrubbing himself off like it will clean away the sins he just committed. As soon as he gets out of the shower he dries off and stumbles back into bed, deciding to call it a night.

Mingyu doesn’t see you or Jungkook again until almost a week later when Jungkook invites Mingyu over for dinner. Mingyu stops by the store to pick up a bottle of wine before heading over to the apartment you and Jungkook share.

As soon as Mingyu knocks on the door you throw the door open and pull Mingyu into a hug. Mingyu hugs you back and if he holds on for a little too long, well you do too. When you pull back Mingyu gets a good look at your outfit. You’re dressed in a short skirt and a low cut tank top. You have a large cardigan draped over the whole outfit and Mingyu blushes slightly. You just look so cute.

You clasp on to Mingyu’s arm as you walk with him into the kitchen. “Kookie, look who’s here!”

“Hey Gyu,” Jungkook smiles at his best friend. Jungkook is standing at the stove, dressed in a blue apron, as he tends to the food. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course man. I brought some wine as well.” Mingyu places the bottle onto the counter.

“Sounds great. Hey, babe, could you grab some glasses? The food is almost ready.”

Mingyu watches as you two move around each other, the flow between you natural and domestic. It makes Mingyu’s heart twinge a bit. You two have always been a good pair. When you and Jungkook started dating it didn’t surprise anyone, and though Mingyu was a little upset by it, he could see it as well. Even three years later you two make the perfect pair, if not more so than back then, settled into your domestic life with one another.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to be sat around the dining table.

“So Mingyu, how that’s project at work coming along?”

Mingyu is surprised that you remember, as he only mentioned it offhandedly a couple weeks ago. He shouldn’t sell you so short though. It’s one of the things that attracts Mingyu to you so much. You’re just so charismatic and attentive to everyone you meet.

“It’s going well. My boss actually promoted me to head of the project because he liked my ideas so much. We should have the prototype done by the end of next week,” Mingyu tells you.

“That’s amazing Mingyu! Congrats!” You cheer.

“That sounds like a reason to drink.” Jungkook raises his glass and Mingyu chuckles before picking his own up and clinking it against Jungkook’s and then yours.

The rest of the night follows the same pattern. You guys continue your easy flow of conversation during dinner and then after you move into the living room where you put on a random movie to watch in the background. The scene is just a little too nice for Mingyu’s well-being. It’s too…comfortable, too sweet. Like Mingyu is meant to be there, with you sitting on the other side of the couch as Jungkook sits a chair nearby as you joke and talk. Like Mingyu is a part of your couple. Like he’s yours.

Those thoughts are shoved to the back of his head as the night goes on and as more alcohol enters his system. It’s clear you’re also feeling the effects as you move closer to Mingyu’s side of the couch, draping yourself over him. Mingyu takes a sharp breath at the feel of your tits pressing against him as you rub your head on his shoulder.

“I love you so much Gyu,” you slur. “You’re my favoritest ever.”

“Hey!” Jungkook cries from where he’s still sitting in the chair, not too far off from where you and Mingyu are in drunkenness.

“Shh, don’t listen to him,” you say, pressing even closer to Mingyu, your breath now brushing up against his ear as you continue in a whisper. “You’re my favorite. My best friend. My number once since freshman year of college. Am I your favorite?”

Mingyu giggles, despite his growing flusteredness. “You’re my favoritest.”

“Good, we are each other’s most favorite. And Jungkook is neither of our favorites, because I love you Gyu!” You press a giant kiss to Mingyu’s cheek.

“Hey, what are you two saying over there?” Jungkook stands up and moves over to the couch. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as you giggle and playfully thrash around.

“Nooooo! Let me go. I wanna cuddle with Mingyu!” You squirm in Jungkook’s arms as Jungkook holds you tighter, kissing your neck. “Mingyu save me!”

Mingyu moves forward and grabs onto your arms, pulling you towards him. Jungkook still has a hold on you, and you three end up in a big pile together, all giggling. You three lay there for a moment, in silence, before you let out a big yawn.

“Well I think that’s my cue to get this one to bed,” Jungkook says. “You good to get a ride home, Gyu?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for having me over man.”

“Yeah, we love having you over. You’re our best friend, you know you’re always welcome.”

“Sleep well Gyu!” You give him a giant hug before allowing Jungkook to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom. Mingyu watches you two retire to your bedroom, sobering up enough in the moment for a pain to clench his heart.

In the cab ride home Mingyu can't help but think about you. The way your breath brushed against his face as you leaned in to tell him you love him. He wonders what it would be like to actually tell you he loves you. What it would be like for you to cradle his face and lean in and kiss him. He imagines holding you, waking up next to you in the morning, going on sweet dates.

Mingyu groans. He’s got to stop doing this to himself.

As soon as he gets to his building, he stumbles through his apartment before falling into bed. Out of habit he pulls out his phone, opening Twitter. Directly at the top of his feed is a post from Sweetheart. 15 minutes ago.

A mirror selfie in her bra and underwear. It’s not much, but it still has Mingyu twitching in his boxers. Against any of his better judgment that he would make when sober, he clicks on her account and taps the message icon.

pup: Hey :)) love the new photo

Mingyu’s not sure why he sent the message. He’s not expecting a response. Not at 3am and not when he’s a total stranger. It’s clear Sweetheart has a boyfriend, or at least someone who does videos with her. He didn’t even send her money.

Mingyu’s about to just go to bed when he hears the chirp of his phone’s notifications. When he checks his phone, his eyes widen when he sees the Twitter notification.

Sweetheart: hehe thank you

Sweetheart: would you like to see more? 😉

pup: Yes. Yes, of course. How much?

Sweetheart: no charge baby. i see you in my notifs all the time, and you’re a subscriber on my OF. think of this as a treat for my biggest fan 😘

Mingyu groans. He has no clue how he’s lucked out so hard. His cock is already half hard at the thought that Sweetheart knows who he is.

pup: Holy shit. Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.

Sweetheart: nothing to say, just enjoy :)

Sweetheart: took these just for you, so don’t go spreading them around, okay?

Sweetheart: [image]

Sweetheart: maybe you can tell me what those do to you…

Mingyu’s mouth drops open at the photos. The first one is a selfie of Sweetheart from the neck down. Her bra has been removed and her arms are pulled in to push her tits together. Mingyu wonders what it would be like to put his mouth on them, or even better, put his dick between them.

The second photo is a photo of Sweetheart sitting on her bed. The large bed is still dressed in the normal white bedding it has on it during her streams. Sweetheart is sitting back on her calves and Mingyu can see the slight wet patch starting to form on her panties.

The final photo has Mingyu’s mind reeling the most. A cropped down photo of Sweetheart’s lips wrapped around a dildo, her lips gently suckling the tip.

Sweetheart has never posted anything above the neck and this is Mingyu’s first time seeing the lower half of her face, and it’s her sucking a dildo no less. Mingyu groans and gives in, reaching down to fist his cock. He imagines that it’s his dick that Sweetheart is sucking, her pretty lips wrapped around his tip as she takes him in his mouth, using her lips and tongue to pleasure him.

pup: Oh my god. Fuck. You’re gorgeous.

pup: Thank you so much.

Sweetheart: i’m glad you like hehe

Sweetheart: how about you show me how much you like them…👀 (if you’re comfortable)

Holy shit. Sweetheart is asking him for a dick pick.

Mingyu fumbles with the camera on his phone before he snaps a few photos. You can see the glisten of pre-cum already coating his tip and his hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it up. Mingyu presses send to Sweetheart and anxiously waits the reply.

Sweetheart: wow you’re big

Sweetheart: i wouldn’t mind taking a ride on that rodeo hehe

Sweetheart: fuck i want a dick inside of me :((( you’d reach so deep inside of me, fill me up nice and good

Sweetheart: would you like that pup? my tight pussy wrapped around your cock?

pup: Yes. Yes, so fucking much.

Sweetheart: i’d milk you so well

Sweetheart: ugh this isn’t fair

pup: I want you so bad. You’re perfect. Literally the most sexy body I’ve ever seen.

Mingyu struggles to type as his right hand jacks off his cock furiously. He can’t believe he’s sexting Sweetheart. He can feel his balls tighten the closer he gets to his orgasm and before he can do anything to stop it, his cock is twitching and he’s spurting cum all over his chest and hand.

Mingyu lets out a low groan before opening his camera app and snapping another photo.

pup: Look what you made me do.

pup: [image]

Sweetheart: fuck that’s so hot

Sweetheart: wish it was inside me though :( or that i was there to lick it up

Sweetheart: fuck i’m touching myself

Sweetheart: imagining that it’s your big cock inside of me

Sweetheart: [video]

Mingyu nearly nuts again just from the video Sweetheart has sent. A ten second clip of her thrusting the dildo from earlier inside of her sopping wet cunt. Mingyu truly thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

Sweetheart: fuck i came so quickly

Sweetheart: god i’m going to be thinking about your cock for weeks now

Sweeheart: thanks for the orgasm :)

pup: No, thank you. I’m never going to forget this.

Sweetheart: good. hope you jack off to those photos more, put them to good use ;)

Sweetheart: thanks for a good time. night pup

Though Mingyu would love to say he went to bed right after, he of course jacks off again before eventually passing out for the night.

After that night, neither Sweetheart nor Mingyu try to contact each other again, but Mingyu does in fact jack off to her photos again and again and again. Especially after days where he hangs out with you and Jungkook.

Look, he’s not proud of it, but at least he can get a release somehow.

Like right now, as he sits propped up in bed, rubbing at his half-hard cock through his boxers, as he watches the beginning of Sweetheart’s stream. Currently she’s just finishing setting up the camera and getting everything situated.

Earlier, Mingyu went out with you and Jungkook to a new cat cafe you wanted to check out. Though both Jungkook and Mingyu are more dog people, it’s no secret they would do anything for you. The whole time you kept gushing to the two best friends on how cute the cats are and how much you want one. It was just so fucking cute and it didn’t help that you just happened to be wearing a shirt that did nothing to hide the outline of your hard nipples. It’s not like Mingyu meant to stare, but to be frank they were kind of staring at him first.

And then when you reached over to pet a cat that had hopped into Mingyu’s lap and you just happened to accidentally brush his dick with your hand. You didn’t notice, or at least didn’t mention it, but it has Mingyu quickly standing up and displacing the cat in order to head to the bathroom to try and adjust himself so you and Jungkook didn’t catch sight of the halfy he was sporting.

On screen, Sweetheart has finally positioned herself right in the middle of the large, white bed. She’s just unbuckled and thrown off her bra and now she’s groping her own tits, squeezing at her chest and flicking at her hard nipples. Mingyu wonders what it would be like to suck on her tits. Tug at her nipples with his teeth and leave marks all over the supple flesh.

When Mingyu pulls himself from his fantasy to go back to watching the stream, he notices the man who’s always in Sweetheart’s videos has appeared. He sits behind Sweetheart on the back, his arms wrapped around her torso so he’s now the one groping her boobs. His head leans down slightly and his mouth presses to her neck. Mingyu catches sight of the lip ring in the right corner of his mouth.

It’s then that Mingyu takes in the full appearance of the man. He’s considerably dressed down this time. While he’s usually dressed in full black dress pants and dress shirt, most likely to better keep his identity hidden, this time he’s in a white t-shirt and jeans. The outfit’s familiar to Mingyu, too familiar.

It’s understandable why the man has never showed off his full arms before, as they’re covered in a sleeve of tattoos, an identifiable mark. Mingyu can't look. His mouth goes dry and his stomach drops.

It’s undeniable. Mingyu knows every piece of that sleeve like the back of his hand. He was there when half of them were inked. Mingyu’s stomach turns. It all makes sense now. The whole reason why Sweetheart drew him in the first place was because of her resemblance to you. Now Mingyu gets it. It’s not that Sweetheart resembles you, it’s that she is you. And the mystery man in each of her (your) videos…is his best friend.

On screen Jungkook has moved on from your tits and down to your clothed pussy. His fingers rub soft circles into your clit as his other hand keeps your thighs spread. Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight.

No.

No, it’s wrong. It’s dirty.

It’s not fair that Mingyu knows your identity when you try so hard to keep it a secret. Not to mention it’s immoral of him to continue to jerk off to your videos. You and Jungkook are his best friends. And even if he has the occasional fantasy about you…it’s completely different than actually watching your sex work and knowing it’s you.

But then again…you are uploading them for a reason. Your bio even says “just here to aid and please” and this would be aiding and pleasing Mingyu. A lot.

Before Mingyu can even talk himself out of it, he’s lost his boxers and has his hand wrapped around his cock. He strokes it slowly as he watches Jungkook slowly sink a finger into your cunt. You squirm slightly in his grip, letting out a soft whine as he pushes a second one in.

Jungkook pumps his finger in and out of you, the digits getting more shiny with your slick the longer he goes on. Your fingers dig into his forearm as your legs twitch. Mingyu can hear Jungkook chuckle and he wonders how he’s never noticed before.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you and you quickly push your panties off as Jungkook climbs off the bed. In a matter of seconds Jungkook is back on the bed, completely naked now. He grabs the camera as you situate yourself on the bed laying down.

The camera moves to show a POV shot of Jungkook fucking you in missionary. Mingyu watches intently as his best friend’s cock moves in and out of your cunt, his hand fucking his own cock at the same pace.

God this is so fucked up.

Even so, it doesn’t take Mingyu long to blow his load. It’s almost embarrassing. Before the stream is even finished Mingyu quickly logs off and gets up to clean himself.

Fuck.

You’re Sweetheart. The girl of his dreams is the other girl of his dreams. It’s been you all this time. Of course it has. That’s just Mingyu’s luck.

Oh God. He’s sexted with you. You’ve seen his dick. Does Jungkook know? He has to, right? There’s no way you’d cheat on him. You’d never do that to him. No, no, he has to know.

He has to.

“Mingyu, my man!” Jungkook slaps a hand onto Mingyu’s shoulder as soon as he approaches.

“Hey Kook.” Mingyu really hopes his voice doesn’t waver as he greets his best friend. He hasn’t seen Jungkook since the other day and this is the first time he’s facing him since finding out that well, he’s been jacking off to porn of him and his girlfriend for months now.

“Look Gyu, we’ve got to talk about something.”

Oh no. Jungkook knows. He knows and he’s mad because Mingyu sexted his girlfriend and he’s ruined a three year long relationship.

“Talk? A-about what?”

“Not here. Let’s go back to my apartment. No one’s home right now.”

Though Mingyu is glad that he won’t have to face you, he’s still a bit concerned about what Jungkook has to talk to him about. And in private no less. There’s no way it’s not about what Mingyu thinks it’s about. But also, how could he know?

The trip to Jungkook’s apartment is eerily quiet and it isn’t until Jungkook closes and locks the door that he finally speaks up.

“You want anything to drink?”

“N-no, uhm, I’m good.”

“Cool. Come on, come sit on the couch with me.” Jungkook leads Mingyu into the living room and sits down. Mingyu cautiously follows.

“So…what did you uhm, want to talk about?” Mingyu stares down at his lap, trying not to make eye contact with his best friend.

“Mingyu…I want you to fuck my girlfriend.”

Mingyu thinks he blacks out for a moment.

What in the fuck did Jungkook just say to him?

“I- excuse me?”

“I want you to fuck my girlfriend. If we’re being honest, she’s kind of wanted to fuck you for a while now, and we’ve been talking about it and I thought I’d offer you into our bedroom.”

Mingyu knows he looks like an idiot right now, but he can’t believe what Jungkook is telling him. He has to be pulling his leg. He knows that Mingyu knows about the porn account and he’s making fun of him. There’s no other explanation. His best friend is the most jealous man on the planet, there is absolutely no way he’s offering Mingyu to fuck you.

“Stop saying stupid stuff, Kook,” Mingyu grumbles. “That’s not funny to joke about. Does she know you’re saying this?”

“I’m not joking! Seriously. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, and now here’s your chance to be with her! I don’t know why you’re not jumping on this opportunity.”

Jungkook is right, any other time Mingyu might be ecstatic, but there’s no way Jungkook is being serious. “Because you’re just pranking me!”

Jungkook sighs. “Okay, I didn’t want to bring it up, but I know you know about the porn account.”

Mingyu stiffens and his mouth goes dry. “I- I don’t know-”

“Yes you do. Sweetheart? I saw the photos left open on your phone the other day, and I know those are photos she only sent you.”

Mingyu’s face heats up and he’s sure he’s red. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know at first and I wasn’t planning on keeping watching and-”

“It’s okay. I literally just offered you to fuck my girlfriend.”

“But why? You hate when other guys even look at her.”

“Because it’s you, Gyu.” That’s all Jungkook answers, staring at Mingyu sincerely, like Mingyu truly is the only person he’d be comfortable sharing his girlfriend with.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. Could this really just be his dreams coming true? “I swear to god if you’re messing with me.”

“I promise I’m not. Look, just come over on Friday and you’ll see. Okay?”

“...Okay.”

Mingyu is nervous.

He’s still not completely sure that Jungkook is telling the truth, but if he is then that means Mingyu is going to fuck you tonight.

His heart is beating intensely in his chest as he drives over to your apartment. It takes him nearly fifteen minutes to get the courage to exit his car and enter the building. Before he can fully chicken out he knocks on the door.

Jungkook is the one to open the door and he ushers Mingyu in before closing and locking the door behind him. Jungkook then leads Mingyu to the bedroom and Mingyu suddenly realizes that oh shit, this is real. This is real and he’s about to fuck you.

As soon as they enter the room, Mingyu feels his throat go dry and his pants tighten. You’re laid out on the bed, the same large bed from all of your photos and videos. The same bed that Mingyu has wished countless of times that it was him on it with you, or at least with Sweetheart.

You’re dressed in a red, see-through babydoll set. You stare up at Mingyu, your eyes already hooded with lust. Mingyu watches as your eyes trail down his figure, stopping at his crotch. Your eyes then move back up to Mingyu’s, making eye contact as you wink at him. Holy shit.

Mingyu feels Jungkook shove him forward slightly. “Go buddy, she’s all yours.”

It takes Mingyu a few more seconds to process. He truly can’t believe this is real. That you’re here and he’s allowed to touch you, to feel you, to let all of his fantasies run wild. The thing that finally get Mingyu in motion is you giggling.

“C’mon Gyu.” You’re motioning him towards you and Mingyu stumbles forward until he makes it to the bed. His heart is thumping so rapidly it wouldn’t be a surprise if he went into cardiac arrest.

Mingyu crawls onto the bed and over to you where you smile at him and reach forward. Mingyu crawls on top of you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so he rests his weight on you. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over it.

“Hi pretty boy. Are you excited?” Mingyu nods his head stupidly, his mind too focused on your touch. “Well are you going to kiss me?”

Finally, Mingyu’s mind seems to catch up and he surges forward. With your hand still on his cheek, you guide him to your lips. Right away, Mingyu’s desperation is apparent as he presses into you hard.

Kissing you is somehow even better than Mingyu expected. Your lips are soft and you smell so good. You hold onto Mingyu, kissing him deeper and deeper. If Mingyu is being honest he already feels a little drunk on you.

Mingyu swipes his tongue over your bottom lip and you open up, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He can feel you smirk against his lips slightly before you start to suck on his tongue. It catches Mingyu off guard and he whines right into your mouth, his hips bucking forward against you.

Mingyu’s cock is already half hard just from kissing you, and he can’t help but rut his hips into you. You don’t seem to mind though, just threading your fingers through his hair. Your hands feel good against him and Mingyu allows his own hands to roam over you as well.

Your body is warm and soft under his palms as he drags them over your torso. The rough lace of the babydoll scratches at his hand as he cups your breast. The material is thin and Mingyu can feel the pebbling of your nipple through it. His fingertips brush over the bud once more and you gasp and arch your back into his touch. It only makes Mingyu needier.

Mingyu breaks the kiss so he can have a second to catch his breath. You don’t need the time though, and you don’t waste time pressing your lips to his jaw. You duck your head down as you slowly trail your kisses down the column on his neck, stopping to suck on the skin every so often.

As much as Mingyu loves you leaving marks all along his neck, he wants to put his mouth on you. He pushes off of you slightly to pull away.

He takes a moment to stare at you, laid out under him. Your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths and you’re staring up at him with hooded eyes. Your lips are puffy from all of the kissing and your hair is mussed from rubbing against the pillow. You look gorgeous.

“Gyu,” you say, your voice slightly raspy, “you’re trembling.” You reach up to caress his face once again.

Mingyu didn’t notice it, but now that you’ve pointed it out, Mingyu realizes he’s shaking. His heart is pounding in his chest, like how he feels when he’s drank too much caffeine.

“Are you nervous, puppy?” You ask Mingyu. The nickname makes him whine slightly. You’ve always called him that, but in this context it hit so differently.

Mingyu nods slightly. “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t want to mess it up.”

You smile gently at him. “You won’t. I like you a lot Gyu, and I want this too. Don’t be nervous, okay? Just enjoy it.”

“O-okay,” Mingyu tells you.

“Now, can I take this off of you?” Your fingers play with the hem of Mingyu’s shirt and he nods. You help him tug the shirt off, revealing his bare torso.

If Mingyu is proud of one thing, it’s his physique, and you seem to appreciate it as well as you trail your fingers down his chest and abs, feeling the grooves of his muscles under your fingertips.

Mingyu is still shaking slightly, but he leans down to start pressing kisses to your chest. Your boobs are soft under his mouth as he starts to suck the subtle skin into his mouth.

There’s a small ribbon holding the front of your lingerie together and Mingyu tugs at the bow until it unties and the fabric falls away from your body, exposing your bare tits to him. Your tits look delicious and Mingyu cups one in his hand and brings his mouth to it. His lips suck on your nipple, his tongue flicking at it every so often.

Your body writhes under him as your fingers dig into his shoulder muscles. Mingyu’s cock is hard and straining in his pants and he so desperately wants to touch himself but also doesn’t want to pull any of his attention from you.

Mingyu’s hands move down your torso even further, his hands running over your waist and down to your hips. He balls the fabric of your panties in his fist, tugging at the lace slightly.

“F-fuck you’re perfect,” Mingyu mumbles into your chest before going back to mouthing at your tits.

Your hips buck up slightly and Mingyu drags one of his hands from his hips to press against your clothes slit. You’ve soaked through your panties and Mingyu moans into your skin at how wet you’ve gotten. He’s watched you touch yourself a million times and has seen how wet you get, but feeling it for himself makes his mind go fuzzy. His fingers push against your panties, slightly pushing them into you, collecting more of your arousal.

“G-gyu, please, need you.”

Mingyu pulls his mouth off of you to sit back. He looks over to the side, acknowledging Jungkook for the first time since he’s crawled onto the bed. His best friend is seated on a plush chair in the corner of the room, his eyes trained on where you and Mingyu are on the bed.

Jungkook makes eye contact with Mingyu before smirking and nodding slightly. “Go on Gyu, give her what she wants.”

With Jungkook approval, Mingyu hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs, leaving you fully unclothed. Your legs part and Mingyu can see how slick your pussy really is.

Your cunt looks even prettier in person and Mingyu grabs your thighs and pushes them even further apart so he can slot his shoulders between them. He trails kisses along your inner thigh, move his mouth closer to your sopping heat. Mingyu hesitates slightly, before finally pushing forward and swiping his tongue through your folds.

Your arousal coats his tongue in a thick layer and Mingyu moans into your pussy at the taste. Your cunt is warm as Mingyu presses his face between your thighs, wrapping his lips around your clit. He tongues at the bud, stimulating you as you fist the sheets under you.

Mingyu can’t count the number of times he’s dreamt of this very scenario. His hands tighten their grip on your thighs as he doubles his efforts. His lips are restless as they play with your clit. Your moans are muffled above Mingyu’s head and they encourage Mingyu to keep going.

He can feel his chin already messy with your slick as he makes out with your cunt. His tongue intermittently darts out, lapping at your entrance. Mingyu’s brain gets more and more muddled as he continues to eat you out, already too lost in pleasure.

Mingyu squeezes his hand between his face and the bed so he can prod his fingertips against your folds. He traces your entrance before finally pushing a finger into you. Your cunt is warm and wet around his finger and he’s able to push a second one in as well.

His mouth doesn’t stop sucking on your clit as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you. His digits drag against your walls, pressing into you, looking for your sweet spot.

As Mingyu fingers you, his hips rut against the mattress, humping the bed to the rhythm of his fingers. His cock is leaking inside of his boxers and he’s relieved to have at least some kind of pressure against him. Mingyu’s letting out soft whines that mix with your own moans.

Your cunt is clenching around Mingyu’s fingers and he pushes a third one into you. His fingers curl into you and you whine, reaching down to pull at Mingyu’s hair. Mingyu knows that he’s found your sweet spot and he continues to abuse the spot, leaving you a mess of moans.

Mingyu’s lips suck hard on your clit, shaking his head back and forth against you. Your body tenses under him as you cry out, your legs shaking as you reach your high. Mingyu helps you through it until you fall limp to the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Mingyu finally pulls his mouth away from you, panting himself as he wipes your slick off his chin. His whole body feels warm from lust. He needs more of you.

“Such a good boy,” you mumble.

“Take your pants off Mingyu.” The voice startles Mingyu for a moment, before he realizes that Jungkook’s still in the room. When he glances over, his best friend looks the same as earlier, just now rubbing himself through his pants. Mingyu nods and starts to undo his belt, before he’s stopped by your protests.

“Let me help.” You move to stick on your knees, reaching over to undo Mingyu’s belt for him. When the belt is discarded on the floor, you start to work on his jeans. Mingyu can feel his cock twitching desperately as you slowly unzip his pants.

You lean down and start to trail kisses down his happy trail before putting your mouth directly on his bulge through his boxers. While still mouthing at him, you push his jeans down until they’re out of the way. Mingyu’s dick strains against his underwear which are already slightly damp from his precum.

You hook your fingers into Mingyu’s waistband before pulling his boxers down, letting his dick spring completely free from all confines. Mingyu helps you fully remove his clothing before you wrap your hand around his length, pumping slightly.

“Fuck Gyu, it’s so pretty.” You lean down and lick at his slit, collecting his precum in your mouth. “What do you want to do with it? Want it here?” You kiss his tip again. “Or here?” You sit back up and move forward to rub your pussy against his cock.

The idea of your lips wrapping around his cock, choking down his length makes Mingyu feel like a mad man, and under any other circumstances he would jump on the chance, but if he’s being honest he feels like he’s about to burst any minute now and needs to get inside of you.

“T-this one,” Mingyu whines out as you continue to rub his head between your swollen pussy lips.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that.” You move away from Mingyu, only to lie back down on the bed and spread your legs, inviting Mingyu to come forward.

Your cunt is shiny with your arousal and your pussy lips are swollen from Mingyu eating you out. It’s nothing Mingyu hasn’t seen before, but now seeing it up close and in person has Mingyu mesmerized. He moves forward, hovering over you as his cock rubs up against your folds.

He leans down to suck at one of your tits again, busying his mouth as he lines the tip of his cock up to your entrance. He can feel your slick on his head as he slowly starts to push in. Mingyu whimpers into your chest, his hands clenched on your hips, as he starts to rut into you. His cock stretches out your walls and it takes him a moment to get all the way inside of you.

After a moment he bottoms out, his cock pushed all the way into your tight, warm walls. Mingyu’s never felt something so heavenly in his life. His cock is twitching with excitement as he drools precum into you. Your walls flutter around him as you adjust to his size and Mingyu has to put all his focus on your tits in his mouth so he doesn’t go completely mad at the feeling.

It doesn’t take long for you to start pawing at Mingyu.

“Please move,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

Mingyu’s response is muffled against your chest as he pulls his hips back before slamming them back into you. He repeats the action over and over again until he’s thrusting into you in a quick rhythm. You’re panting as you dig your fingers into Mingyu’s shoulders.

With each thrust Mingyu buries deeper and deeper inside of you. He finally pulls his mouth off your tits to sit up, adjusting his hold on you so he can pound even harder into you. From this new angle Mingyu looks down at you. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed, completely lost in your pleasure.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and Mingyu realizes he’s not going to last much longer at this rate. He pushes your legs forward against your chest, spreading your pussy more as he fucks you even harder than before. Your moans grow frantic as you fist the sheets in your fingers.

“G-gonna cum,” Mingyu mutters. His cock is throbbing, desperately needed to find release.

“D-do it inside,” you whine. “Need your cum in me.”

Mingyu glances over at Jungkook, who’s eyes are still trained on the two of you. He’s stroking his own cock, which is starting to pearl at the tip.

“Don’t make her wait.”

That’s all Mingyu needs before his hips are stuttering inside of you and he’s painting your inside white with his cum. Mingyu’s whole body is coursing with pleasure and he thinks he whites out slightly. When he’s completely come down from his high he pulls out of you, his body slumps down against the bed beside you.

Mingyu takes a moment to recollect himself, trying to clear his mind from his post nut haze. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life.

When Mingyu opens his eyes again he’s surprised to see Jungkook has moved closer. Jungkook has stuffed himself back into his pants, but the bulge it leaves is still apparent. He stands next to the bed, looming over you as his hand rubs at your pussy. Mingyu watches with awe as his best friend rubs at your clit. Your eyes are closed against as you buck your hips into Jungkook’s touch.

“You made quite the mess,” Jungkook says, addressing Mingyu. Mingyu doesn’t look at him though, his eyes still trained on Jungkook’s hand on your pussy.

Mingyu’s cum is leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed and Jungkook scoops it up with his fingers before pushing it right back inside of you. You gasp but otherwise accept the intrusion. The sight alone makes Mingyu’s cock twitch to life.

“Did her pussy make you feel good, pup?” Jungkook continues.

And shit well, Mingyu’s never been attracted to his best friend, or any man for that matter, but the sight of Jungkook fingering Mingyu’s cum back into his girlfriend while calling Mingyu a pup definitely makes his cock twitch.

Mingyu watches intently as your body starts to shake, your back arching up off the bed as you whine. Mingyu has watched your videos enough to know what you look like when you’re cumming and he watches as you fall apart on Jungkook’s hand.

Your hand reaches down to grab his wrist, stopping his motions.

“Sensitive,” you mumble. Mingyu just expects you to leave it at that but he’s sorely wrong as he watches you pull Jungkook’s fingers to your mouth, sucking your juices and Mingyu’s seed off of them. You’re making intense eye contact with your boyfriend as you do so, your tongue swirling around the digits, and Mingyu starts to feel like he’s witnessing something way too personal for him to be there.

When Jungkook’s fingers have been thoroughly cleaned by your tongue, you pop your mouth off his hand and start to paw at his pants. You pull him closer, your fingers fumbling with the zipper of his pants as you attempt to strip your boyfriend down.

“Insatiable little thing,” Jungkook smirks as he quells your struggle and frees his cock for you. You don’t waste a moment, leaning forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Jungkook lets out a low groan and he automatically reaches down to push the back of your head further down onto his cock. Mingyu watches the bob of your head as Jungkook’s dick disappears farther and farther down your throat.

There’s a bit of saliva dripping down your lips, making a mess of both you and Jungkook. The wet sound of your mouth and the slight gag from Jungkook’s length hitting the back of your throat fills the room, making everything seem even more erotic and dirty. Mingyu feels a bit perverted, just laying next to you watching, but a part of him knows that you and Jungkook want him to see this.

This whole experience is new to Mingyu, and he’s taking in every moment that he can. As Sweetheart you never share any part of your face, and there’s a delight that fills Mingyu knowing he’s now the only person besides Jungkook that has seen what you look like with your lips wrapped around a cock, gagging on the length. It’s almost too hot to handle.

From the angle Mingyu’s at he has the perfect view of your pussy. Your lips are spread slightly, still shiny with slick, as you arch your back. Mingyu thinks about you being spit roasted between him and Jungkook. Your mouth working diligently at Jungkook, while your pussy squeezes the life out of Mingyu.

The thought is too good to be true though, and Mingyu embarrassingly still hasn't recovered from his first orgasm. That doesn’t stop Mingyu from imagining it though, staring at your juicy pussy as he does so.

“Fuck,” Mingyu hears Jungkook hiss. He looks up to see Jungkook’s forearms tenses as they grip onto your hair tight, helping you bob your head up and down. His head is tilted back and his eyes are squeezed shut as his hips shallowly thrust into your mouth.

Mingyu’s never been interested in seeing his best friend cum, but in this moment, he can’t take his eyes off of him. It only takes a few more bobs of your head and Jungkook is shuddering as he holds you down against him, your lips at the base of his cock.

When it’s clear Jungkook is finally done spilling into you, he releases his grip on you, allowing you to breathe properly. Your mouth is full of Jungkook’s cum and some of it starts to drip down your chin and fall right onto your tits. You giggle as you scoop it up and put it right back into your mouth.

“Can’t waste a drop, right?” You say to Mingyu, winking at him. “Still doing good there, big boy?”

“Y-yeah,” Mingyu stutters out, his voice hoarse from panting so hard earlier.

“Good, because I’m just feeling sooo empty and I would love if my two handsome boys could fill me up.” You spread your legs again, reaching down to push your puffy folds apart with two fingers. “Would you boys do that for me?”

Mingyu doesn’t understand how you have so much energy after being eaten out, fucked, fingered, and then sucking a dick, but he has to admit it’s incredibly hot and definitely doing it for him.

You move from where you’re laying and you crawl over to Mingyu, straddling his lap and pinning him to the bed. He can feel your heat press up against his cock and you grind down slightly and you lean in to whisper into Mingyu’s ear.

“Will you let me ride you, puppy? Use your fat cock to get myself off?” Your voice is somehow a mix of innocent and sultry at the same time and Mingyu involuntarily bucks his hips up against you. You chuckle slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You lift yourself up off of Mingyu slightly, only to reach down and line his cock up to your pussy. Your folds wrap around his head before you sink down, flushing your hips to his. Mingyu whines, his hands flying up to grip your waist tightly.

Mingyu only pulled out a few minutes ago, and yet he missed the feeling of your pussy around him. Your walls are warm and tight and Mingyu swears you’re clenching down on him on purpose.

“Mm, you fill me up so nicely,” you moan. You slowly start to bounce in his lap, lifting yourself up and down his cock. Your hands are planted firmly on Mingyu’s chest, using him as leverage. Mingyu pathetically helps guide you up and down, too distracted by how sexy you look like this.

Your skin is shiny with a light sheen of sweat and what Mingyu also thinks might just be a post-orgasm glow. Your naked body is warm and tantalizing as you roll your hips against Mingyu’s. You’re staring down at him, your eyes trained on Mingyu’s face as you smirk at him. It’s all almost too much for him.

When it’s clear that you’re satisfied with Mingyu, you lean forward, placing your tits right above Mingyu’s head. He can’t help himself, closing the rest of the distance to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. You gasp slightly, reaching down to cup Mingyu’s jaw.

“F-fuck,” you shudder out. “C’mon Kookie. Need you in me too.”

Mingyu can feel Jungkook climb onto the bed, and he’s thankful that you two own such a large bed or he doesn’t think all three of you would fit comfortably. Jungkook positions himself behind you, hovering over Mingyu’s legs.

Mingyu can feel you jolt slightly as Jungkook starts to open you up. You bury your free hand in Mingyu’s hair, tugging slightly. Mingyu doesn’t mind though, in fact he whimpers slightly against your breast.

Mingyu can hear the sound of Jungkook pressing a kiss against your skin before he spits and then a few seconds later you gasp. Mingyu can feel the bulge of Jungkook pressing into you, stuffing your other hole full of his cock.

“S-shit, you feel so good,” you whine. “Baby, please move.”

Your walls move as Jungkook slides out of you, only to slam right back into you. Your body lurches forward slightly, and you tighten your grip on Mingyu. Slowly Jungkook starts to build up his pace, until he’s fucking into you at a steady rhythm.

Mingyu takes this as his time to start thrusting up into you as well. He does his best to match Jungkook’s pace, as you start to grind down against both of them. Despite being completely composed a few moments ago, you’ve turned into a complete mess with two dicks inside of you. All you can get out is moans and whines and a few noncoherent sentences as you hold onto Mingyu like your life depends on it.

Your back arches as Mingyu tightens his grip on you, doing his best to fuck into you as hard as he can. Your walls are already spasming against him, your body trembling with pleasure. Over your shoulder Mingyu can see Jungkook and he doesn’t think his best friend has ever looked as good as he does right now. His hair is pushed back and his face is completely focused as he stares down at your ass, watching how his and Mingyu’s cocks split you open.

Above him, you bury your face into Mingyu’s neck, deciding to bite and suck at his skin to muffle your moans. Your body is on fire atop of him and Mingyu wraps his arms around your waist to pull you further against him, using the new grip to help his thrusts.

The whole situation seems so erotic, your gorgeous bare body pressed into his as he and his best friend destroy your holes. Mingyu can feel the blood pumping in his cock as his whole body starts to tingle.

“G-gonna cum,” he stutters out. “P-please let me c-cum in you.”

“Me too,” you mumble into his neck. “Fuck, cum all inside me. Fill me up.”

You move your mouth from Mingyu’s neck to his lips. You kiss him desperately, licking into his mouth as you cup his face.

“Go on both of you,” Jungkook finally pipes up, his voice deep and sultry. “Cum.”

Mingyu’s whole body shakes as he lets himself go, spilling right into your waiting pussy. It doesn’t stay there long though, as you quickly lift yourself up off of Mingyu, your legs trembling as a stream of liquid gushes out of you and right onto Mingyu’s lap. You break your mouth off of Mingyu’s so you can moan as you finish squirting.

Behind you, Jungkook is still fucking into you, quick and hard. You can’t hold yourself up anymore though, and you slump against Mingyu. Mingyu’s still out of it as well, and he absentmindedly rubs your back as Jungkook grunts, finishing inside of you as well.

Jungkook pulls out of you and leans down to kiss the small of your back before walking into the connected bathroom. You press a few more kisses to the corner of Mingyu’s mouth before rolling off of him. Jungkook walks back in with towels and hands one to Mingyu before starting to clean you off.

Mingyu wipes his lower half off before standing up, his legs slightly giving out on him before he gains his footing again. Mingyu feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his brain still slightly fuzzy.

Mingyu starts to pull his clothes back on as you and Jungkook do the same. Mingyu’s not quite sure what to do as he stands in the corner of the room, watching as Jungkook starts to strip the bed of the sheets. It's a bit weird to see the large bed without the now iconic white sheets on it.

The thought of just slipping out the front door crosses Mingyu’s mind, and he’s heavily considering it, when he feels someone wrap their arms around his waist.

“So, did you have fun?” You ask Mingyu. You’re staring at him with wide eyes and a grin.

“Y-yeah! Thanks for uh, letting me do this,” Mingyu responds.

“Of course! I’m wasn't joking Mingyu, I do really like you.”

The confession makes Mingyu’s heart flutter. Realistically, he knows that you’re with Jungkook and nothing will happen from this, but it’s still nice to know he’s not a complete fool or being so head over heels for you.

“She’s been talking about this since your little Twitter conversation,” Jungkook says as he walks back into the room from putting the sheets in the washing machine. “I’d be a little jealous if it wasn’t you, Gyu.”

“You know who I also think would really like you?” You ask, shooting Jungkook a mischievous look. “My viewers. They would love you. Don’t you think so Kookie?”

Jungkook just smirks. “You have to ask him first.”

“What about it Gyu? Wanna become a permanent stample on the Sweetheart page?” You hug Mingyu a bit tighter.

The idea drives Mingyu a little wild. Going from watching your content to being in it? Being able to fuck you on a regular basis?

“I- that sounds…yeah, I would,” Mingyu stutters out and you giggle.

“Yay! Looks like you have a competition Kook,” you smirk at your boyfriend.

“Competition?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Not when it’s Mingyu. I think both of us are going to have lots of fun with him. Won’t we pup?”

You and Jungkook both send Mingyu matching grins and Mingyu feels the excitement grow in him. Oh yeah, he’s going to have a lot of fun.

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shy-writer-999 · 2 months ago

Text

Summary: Law has a thing for you, so when he catches you and Luffy fooling around one night, the captain makes him an offer that he can’t refuse. This is very Law-centric. ~2.8k words.

CW: Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns used a few times), double penetration, plz note that this is consensual~

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Law didn’t like admitting it to himself, but he was painfully infatuated with you. Each moment he spent on the ship (when he wasn’t actively dealing with the Strawhat crew’s nonsense) was occupied with thoughts about you. You were an itch in his mind that he couldn’t scratch.

He realized he had a problem when you caught him staring at you. You asked him straight up, “Is there something on my face?” He stuttered and apologized, excusing himself by saying that he “spaced out.”

Law’s favorite thing about you was your eyes. They were like magnets. Anytime you were around, he could feel himself being pulled towards you, with the nagging desire to just look into your eyes. He had never felt this before and was having difficulty coping. His fixation with you was taking up too much space in his head, it was starting to cause him genuine distress.

Along with missing his crew and Luffy driving him up the fucking wall, your presence agitated him. He was snappy, rude, reserved, and unreadable in every interaction. He swore to himself that he wasn’t this much of a dick usually, but the ship was driving him crazy.

Law was in denial about how intoxicating your presence was. One day he caught himself accidentally musing about what it would be like to ‘room’ and ‘shambles’ you out of your clothes and into his bed. He pretended like it was a momentary aberration.

The next night at dinner, you finished your food and got up to wash your plate. Law’s eyes followed you. Luffy went for another portion of meat at the same time as you, and when he walked past you, he unceremoniously slapped the ever-living fuck out of your ass. You were unfazed, and so was everyone else on the crew.

Law was flabbergasted and his jaw literally dropped. To think that Luffy was involved with you in that way… it broke Law’s brain. He just didn’t see it coming. It made him question his own judgment—why was he caught so off guard by that? Why didn’t he expect the captain of the Strawhats to pull? And why didn’t anyone else on the crew react to that? It must have been a normal occurrence.

He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t shake the sight of Luffy smacking your ass, especially the way your ass had jiggled when Luffy’s palm made contact.

Law cursed himself. Fucking hell, he told himself. Get a grip.

Luffy annoyed him beyond comprehension. Sure, Law admired his faith in the crew and his strength, but god, he was annoying. It annoyed him even more to think that Luffy was with you.

A week or so later, Law stumbled into the kitchen after a long day buried in textbooks. It must have been 2AM. Sanji told him there were leftovers in the fridge, so he was going to grab a plate and get back to his cabin.

His eyes were met with a sight that would be seared into his brain forever. He took in the whole scene, in an instant.

Luffy’s back was facing Law, and his shorts were pooled at his feet. You were on the counter, legs spread, naked, with your arms thrown around Luffy’s neck.

He was fucking you, and wet slapping noises sounded through the room—it was a wonder Law hadn’t heard them on his way to the kitchen.

While Luffy fucked you, Law’s eyes darted to the counter. There was a discarded plate of meat a few feet away from where you were being railed. Law put the pieces together. It looks like Luffy wanted a midnight snack, but he found a meal instead.

In the split second that Law stood in the doorway, you locked eyes. Your eyes were lidded, your mouth hung open and sweet sounds were falling from your lips. Your cheeks were ruddy, and your hair was askew.

Law couldn’t pull himself away. His heart did a twisting thing seeing your eyes glossy and lustful like this, and he didn’t even think about looking at your cunt yet. He was entranced, getting harder by the millisecond.

Luffy’s head turned.

“Oh, Traffy!” The captain smiled and did his classic goofy laugh. “Funny seeing you here!”

“Fuck, Strawhat.” Law choked out the words, incredulous. “Can’t you do that in your room?”

Luffy’s hips kept crashing into yours. “What, you don’t wanna try some?”

Law froze. Was Luffy offering you up like some sort of meal? Asking him if he wanted a taste? Law’s cock twitched in his pants. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this. It was wildly out of character and felt downright wrong. But the way you just sat there, taking Luffy’s cock with that fucked-out look on your face tortured him. He wanted you.

“C’monnnnn,” Luffy entreated him. “I think she wants you too.”

Law blinked, speechless as he saw your hand creep over to your clit. You started to draw circles on it, eyes locked onto Law’s still. What little shred of reason and inhibition left in Law was thrown unabashedly out the window the second he saw your fingers rub your sensitive bud like that.

Without a word, you nodded at Law eagerly and he felt his body go into autopilot. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, hard cock lining up with your entrance.

A fleeting moment of reason flashed through his mind. What the fuck am I doing? He banished the thought and brought himself back to the present. You were ready for him.

Your folds were already dripping wet and inflamed. Law’s hands were on your hips and your fingers snaked up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He watched your pupils dilate barely, and his heart stopped for a second. He knew what that meant.

Law pressed into you slowly, and you arched your back with a whine, swallowing up his inches greedily, like it was nothing. His cock was girthier and longer than Luffy’s, stretching you out deliciously. It felt better than you could have imagined. And yes, you had imagined it before. How could you not?

Law didn’t even register that Luffy was next to him, fucking his own fist to the sight of Law’s shaft disappearing in you.

“Law, fuck.”

His name coming out of your mouth sounded like music to him. It tingled in his ears, raised his pulse, made blush creep up his neck. He rolled his hips into your core, producing sparks of electrifying pleasure every time his tip nudged your g-spot.

Your walls clenched around Law’s cock and he let out a low groan. The way you were staring up at him, the way that your tits bounced so prettily on your chest, the feeling of your fingers pulling on his hair—it was all going to his head.

“Hey Traffy,” Luffy’s jarring voice cut through Law’s dreamlike state and reminded him of what was actually happening. “Doesn’t she feel so mushy and warm? She likes it when you get her all messed up inside.”

Before Law could choke out an answer, you pulled his neck down and crashed your lips into his. When your legs wrapped around him and squeezed him closer, he was so turned on that he felt like he was going to pass out.

Of course, you loved Luffy’s cock. He knew your body inside and out. But Law’s cock was just different, in a good way. Before he initially pushed it into you, you had observed that Law’s tip was redder and more inflamed than Luffy’s usually was. It was a bit curved too, just barely, and his head was more defined.

Law fucked you differently than Luffy, too. Law treated you delicately and gently, like he was worried he’d hurt you. His eyes were so innocent and shocked that it made your heart melt, and his thrusts were haphazard. Each breath was ragged and shuddering. He was so obviously nervous and flustered.

Luffy kept stroking himself as Law get worked up and lost in pleasure fucking you. Anything having to do with you turned Luffy on—regardless of who was fucking you, Luffy was just happy to see you wet and panting.

Each jerk of Law’s cock into you elicited some desperate variation of a groan or grunt from him. You had admittedly underestimated how muscular the doctor was. He was shredded—his pecs were defined and hard, along with his arms, abs, every part of him. His tattoos emphasized how gorgeous he was.

“Don’t keep her all to yourself, Traffy,” Luffy frowned and huffed. He liked to see you getting ravaged like this, but he wasn’t full yet. “Wait, I have an idea.”

Law paused his hips and pulled out of you. When you whimpered at the emptiness, he felt like he would implode.

Luffy commanded Law to lay down on the floor (which initially Law thought “fuck no” to, but he realized that he’d have to comply if he wanted more of you). You sat on top of Law, cowgirl-style. As you sunk down on his cock, his hips bucked up inadvertently. He threw his head back and turned crimson—he could hardly control his body and it was taking every morsel of discipline to stay still.

Luffy told you to lean forward. You collapsed, bracing yourself on Law’s bare chest with your ass in the air. Law’s heart was beating so fast that you could feel it, and if he didn’t know better, he would have been worried it would stop entirely.

As you nuzzled your face in the crook of Law’s neck, Luffy positioned himself behind you. He started loosening up your other hole, working it open gradually as you let out sounds of whiny protest.

While you laid there nestled up to him, Law could feel you pulse around his cock. You cockwarmed him few minutes before Luffy decided you were sufficiently loosened up. Each rogue throb of your cunt made him feel crazier. He had half a mind to flip you over and fuck you prone bone until you screamed his name.

Meanwhile, the captain spat in his hand and rubbed saliva and his precum down his shaft, lubing up before he pressed his tip to your entrance. “You ready for me?” He asked gruffly, and when you nodded into Law’s neck, Luffy began to enter you.

You moaned in what was a mixture of pleasure and pain. Law could feel the pressure from Luffy’s cock making you tighter. He couldn’t comprehend the reality of this situation. If he had been in his right mind, he would have just ran out of the room the second he saw you and Luffy fucking. But he wasn’t in his right mind, and he hadn’t been since the first time he saw you.

When Luffy bottomed out you twitched in discomfort. “Luffyyy.” Law could hear the frown in your voice. He felt your hot breath on his neck, and it gave him goosebumps. “It hurts. ‘m too full.”

“Hang onnnn, it’ll feel good soon.” Luffy responded carelessly, rolling his eyes. He started to rock his hips into you slowly. Law laid motionlessly with his cock in you. He was worried about hurting you. He closed his eyes. No point in watching Luffy fuck you from this angle.

After a minute or so, you let out a muffled keen in Law’s neck. You latched your lips onto it and sucked harshly; his breath hitched.

Nothing could beat the feeling of being filled up like this. Sometimes Luffy would do it with toys, but having another cock inside you along with Luffy’s was just an unreal sensation. The pleasure wasn’t just in the feeling of being double penetrated—that was an added bonus. What set this apart from the toys Luffy would use on you was the fact that Law’s cock was real, warm, fleshy, and jumping. It was accompanied by a man, by this man, who looked even better up close, blushing bright red and buried inside of you. He smelled good, musky and clean at the same time, he looked hot with his hair ruffled a bit, and his stubble felt nice anytime it brushed your cheek.

When you were warmed up enough, you started to grind down on Law’s cock and back into Luffy’s, effectively fucking yourself harder with both. Now that heat was burning in your cunt again, you were insatiable.

“I told you it would feel good,” Luffy teased when he felt you pushing back on his cock, and you murmured a quiet “mmmhmmm.”

You moved your lips from Law’s neck to his ear, biting on his earlobe. He inhaled sharply again. You somehow managed to turn him on more than he thought was possible. “Harder, Law.”

He jerked his hips up at your words and you moaned again, directly into his ear. That was almost too much. He was holding on for dear life. Your lips wandered from his ear to his jawline and smashed onto his, giving him sloppy kisses as you fucked yourself with his cock. You bit his lip and parted his lips with your tongue. He was a spectacular kisser. You suspected as much.

Luffy’s shaft in your ass made you feel extra tight—Law couldn’t believe how good you felt. He felt like he was floating in pleasure. His hands came up to rest on your waist as he pushed up into you—he (once again) forgot Luffy was there.

Your thighs shook and Law groaned with every thrust. His voice was deep, carnal, and gravelly.

Luffy could tell that you were about to cum. He pulled out.

“Traffy, you can cum in her. I know she’s hungry for me, so I’ll wait.”

“L-law,” you mewled into his mouth and pulled your lips away from his. A string of saliva connected your bottom lips. “I’m close. Fuck me harder. I need you.”

Law nodded clumsily. If he was more cognizant of reality, he would have thought it was odd for Luffy to just pronounce and claim that it was fine if he (Law) came in you. But since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it, he guessed that he didn’t either. (You didn’t have a problem with any of it, and Luffy knew that.)

Law’s hands wandered down to grab rough fistfuls of your ass, kneading and pulling your cheeks apart as he rutted his cock up feverishly.

“Gonna cum, Law” your voice was strained.

“F-Fuck, do it,” he grunted, breathless. “Cum for me.”

You bounced on Law’s cock, desperately angling him towards your g-spot for a few more moments before you started to squirm and writhe, whining his name at a deafening level. You convulsed in pleasure, creaming around his cock in ecstasy.

Feeling you spasm around him and moan his name—something he had fantasized about countless times before—sent him over the edge. He shuddered and bucked into you one last time before he was completely lost in oblivion. His hot cum exploded in you as his whole body tensed.

Law’s seed oozed out of your cunt and down his shaft as he let out one last body-wracking groan—but you cut him off with a kiss, a passionate and sweet one. He didn’t know the nature of your relationship with Luffy, but he wondered if you kissed Luffy like this. Your kisses were tender and soft, unexpected and welcomed.

“Gosh, I know you like him a lot, but I’m starving over here.” Luffy complained impatiently and you pulled away from Law’s lips with a smile. Luffy rolled his eyes. “You guys can keep kissing later but now it’s my turn.”

Law was confused but tickled, beyond his better judgment. Had he heard that right? You liked him a lot? He could keep kissing you later?

When you pulled yourself off Law’s cock, Luffy picked you up and sat upright. He made you straddle him as he fucked you silly. Law, in a daze, watched Luffy coax another orgasm out of you, and when Luffy came inside of you he pulled you off his cock and sat you up straight. You could hardly hold yourself up.

“There. Law, your turn now. Go get her cleaned up or keep fucking her, I don’t care. I’m gonna get something to eat.” You giggled and Law sat up on his elbows. Both of those things happened, coincidentally enough—Law got you cleaned up then brought you back to his bed and fucked another couple orgasms out of you; it should go without saying, but they were euphoric and toe-curling. It wouldn’t be the last time.

ta-da!! i think this is another one of my faves so far for my kinktober thingy.

here’s my masterlist and here’s my posting schedule for october.

also, trick or treat?

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etherealising · 5 months ago

Text

flew like a moth to you

read part one here

pairing: richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: thoughts of a certain infuriating older man seem to keep racing through your mind and as the two of you continue crossing paths, you’re bound to be drawn to the flame you ignite in one another.

wc: 16k (i’m sorry y’all i just wanna be their third real bad)

The summer breeze drifted through your open bedroom window as you sat on your bed while Xiomara rooted through your closet looking for something to wear for her date the following night. You weren’t sure what was so special about your closet considering you knew Xio’s taste in clothing was more expensive than yours but the both of you treated each other’s apartment like a thrift store whenever you visited.

You scrolled through the calendar on your laptop organizing the upcoming tutoring dates for the next few weeks making sure they didn’t interfere with the days you were working with the summer reading program at the library. You were beyond grateful you didn’t have to sign up for a session of summer school this year, even though you were still doing academic-centric jobs it felt nice to do something you enjoyed without being trapped inside a classroom.

Summer break was treating you exceptionally well even after it only being a few weeks. You’d been recruited by a family friend of one of your students to help tutor their middle school-aged child, and while they could be a pain in the ass at times, the pay was too good to pass up, pair that with the summer reading program through the local libraries you were working at and you were set until the next school year began. Although you were working you still had time to yourself, finally not too tired to miss a night out, even falling back in love with your hobbies because you weren’t dead on your feet from chasing around sticky six-year-olds.

“Ohh wow, this is actually so cute I love the fit of it. Did you thrift it?” Xio’s words drew your attention, your eyes still focused on the digital screen before you finally looked up to see what she was talking about.

You frowned trying to ignore the irritation that crawled through you at the sight of the suit jacket hanging off of Xio’s shoulders. “No, it’s uh not mine.”

Xio’s eyes lit up at the crumbs you’d given her in just those five words, a large grin lined her lips as she slipped out of the jacket holding it up to the light streaming through the room to examine it. “Girl who’s fucking jacket is this? And why the fuck does it smell like a forest?”

A chuckle left your lips eyes rolling as you shut down your laptop before setting it on your nightstand and folded your legs to your chest doing your best to keep a neutral expression. “Just some guy I met.” You shrugged your shoulders hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Mhm,” Xio’s hum was punctuated by her throwing the jacket at you. “Was it that guy you went on a date with? The boring finance guy?” Her eyebrows raised as she looked at you in question, she had that smile on her face like she already knew the truth.

You played with the sleeve of the jacket, finger tracing around the cuff link. “Okay, so there was another guy.” You bit your lip to hide your smile as Xio squealed before bouncing onto your bed, her hands clapping in excitement.

“When was this?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a dramatic gasp ripped through her. The sound seemed to fill up the whole room. “You sneaky girl you got wined and dined by finance bro and then ended your night with mystery jacket guy?” You weren’t sure how she did it but it was like Xio knew things without having to be told it was a superpower of hers.

“I wouldn’t call it wining and dining if I paid for my meal.” The two of you scoffed in disgust at the same time before divulging into a fit of laughter, you’d completely forgotten the way you left out the moment you shared with Richie when you first debriefed your friends on the date.

Maybe it was selfish but you had a strong urge to keep what happened between you and Richie to yourself, sure that another opportunity like that wouldn’t present itself again, not that you even wanted it to. The following school week he hadn’t dropped off or picked up Eva and instead of taking it as a personal slight against you, you took it as a sign from the universe that whatever happened between the two of you was just an outcome of the passion brought on by your arguing, a moment of lust filled weakness.

Xiomara laid on her stomach propping her head in her hands as she looked up at you, “So, any reason you haven’t returned his jacket?”

You shrugged looking down at the fabric in your hands before standing to hang it back up, “I chickened out.” It wasn’t a lie you had every intention to stop by the restaurant and drop it off but every time you worked up even the littlest bit of courage you always talked yourself out of it. “And I don’t even think he cares about it.”

“You are so full of shit!” You didn’t have to turn around to see Xio’s eyes rolling or the knowing look she often wore. “You like him!”

The scoff you let out wasn’t even believable to your ears as you exited the room, Xio’s feet eagerly padding behind you as she caught up before plopping down on the stool at your island while you grabbed the takeout menus from your kitchen drawer and tossed them onto the island.

“Absolutely not, if anything I tolerated him. He’s actually fucking insufferable.” You eyed the menus trying not to catch Xio’s eye.

“Oh, so you knew him prior to that night then?” If you thought Richie was insufferable Xio was being even more insufferable as she gave you the third degree in your apartment. You couldn’t be upset though, you knew you’d be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.

You were just glad that the whole friend group wasn’t here to gang up on you. You hesitated before speaking, pondering the best way to go about the situation, not particularly in the mood to hear the wild fantasies Xio would come up with. “He’s the father of a student I had this year.”

Xiomara’s scream of excitement was exactly last thing you wanted to hear at that moment as she shot out of her chair and ran around the island to jump up and down in excitement with you, your energy far from matching hers. “Wait till everyone hears you bagged a dilf! They’re gonna fre-,”

“What? Xio, no!” You placed your hands atop her shoulders, halting her excitement before it could get too out of hand. Eyes watching as she folded in on herself lips turning into a full-on pout, “I didn’t bag anybody, I almost fucked him in a parking lot and I haven’t seen him since, that’s it, end of story. Now can we please choose what to order?”

It was beneath you but you gave her the puppy dog eyes, feeling victorious as you watched her completely deflate before nodding and pulling you into a hug, “A parking lot?” She looked at you with mirth in her eyes before you swatted her on the arm with the takeout menus.

The two of you divulged into less Richie-centric conversation, your mind sometimes wandering to the mystery man. Did he think of you as much as you thought about him?

You knew the universe could be cruel, but at this point, you felt like whatever higher power was in control of the timeline of your life found joy in putting you in the most awkward and unexpected positions you could imagine. Case in point being the small blonde child soundly asleep in the backseat of your car, as you stared up at the daunting building facade of a restaurant you had zero intentions of ever visiting again.

You could have easily said no, apologized to Ms. Gattina over the phone, and let her know it wasn’t your job to shuttle kids to and fro once your shift with the library reading program finished for the day, that once the clock struck 2 p.m. the children in the reading program were no longer your responsibility. But then you found Eva sitting all alone at the library help desk long after all the other kids were picked up sitting and listening as the librarian spoke to her mother over the phone to explain the situation and while you wanted to help in any way, you’re not sure what made you agree to dropping off the forgotten child with her father.

A feeling of unease rose inside you the longer you sat there. While you knew you were putting yourself in an awkward position by involving yourself in the middle of a familial dispute, hearing Ms. Gattina’s stressed pleas as she divulged probably more than you deserved to know about the stress she felt with the possibility of Eva being left alone along with said stress brought on by her ex-husband, you found yourself agreeing to her request out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.

And now all you had left to do was drop Eva off with her father, hope that he was aware his ex-wife enlisted your help, and be on your merry way and hope this doesn’t become routine. Sighing one last time you gathered your belongings along with Eva’s bag full of goodies given out before stepping out of the car and hurrying around to the back seat to get the still-sleeping child.

“Eva, sweetie,” your voice was quiet as you gently shook her shoulder trying to wake her. “I need you to wake up.” You stopped as the little girl let out a quiet whine obviously not ready to be roused from her sleep, another sigh left you as you carefully undid her seatbelt and reached in to lift her out of the car hefting her onto your hip and checking the back seat for anything she may have left behind before closing the door and locking your car as you headed to the entrance.

You were surprised at how easily the door swung open, positive it would be locked considering the restaurant wasn’t open to business at this time but you gave it little thought as you stepped into the air-conditioned establishment. It was odd seeing the restaurant like this, quiet not filled with the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the ambiance much more different than the one you experienced when being a paying customer. It was an eerie feeling but it also wasn’t the reason you were there.

The small voice emanating from your neck made you jump, eyes shooting down to Eva’s bleary blues as your eyebrows raised in confusion unsure of what she said. You watched as her small hand lifted, tiny finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen before she spoke once more.

“S’uncle Carmy.” Your eyes moved from the tip of her small finger to look through the small sliver of window that offered a peek into the kitchen, surprised to find a group of people all talking over each other, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard the raised voices before but as you continued staring the ongoing argument was made more obvious.

The one person you needed to notice you was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help the sense of worry that filled you, because if Eva’s father wasn’t here what the hell were you supposed to do with her? Hopefully whoever the hell Uncle Carmy was could take her off your hands, before you could even think about your next course of action you locked eyes with one of the women standing in the group, her own eyes dropping to the child in your arms in recognition.

You breathed a sigh of relief as she excused herself from the conversation, not that anyone paid her words much attention as she moved out of the kitchen and began making her way to you.

“Hi, sorry to just show up but Ms. Gattina asked me to drop Eva off with her father. I messaged him but he didn’t respond.” You gave the woman a forced smile trying not to stare at her heavily swollen belly before realizing she deserved a more thorough explanation. “I was Eva’s second-grade teacher this past school year and I work with the summer reading program through one of the libraries and Eva’s…” You trailed off as the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement at the frantic way you were speaking.

The woman sent you a gentle smile before moving closer, “It's okay, Tiff told me to be on the lookout for you two.” Her hand raised as she gently caressed Eva’s head causing the little girl’s head to poke out from its place resting in your neck, her eyes brightened as much as they could in her tired state as she smiled at the woman in front of you. “Just a bit of friendly advice Richie’s back there on the phone with her now and he did not sound happy.”

You gave a nod of appreciation her underlying tone telling you it was best to get the hell out of dodge, you sent her one last smile before craning your neck to look down at Eva, “Alright sweetie I’m gonna leave you here with…” you trailed off unsure who this woman was to the young girl.

“Aunt Nat…by association at least.” Your eyebrows raised at her words, the sound of them not providing you with any more confidence to leave Eva in her care.

But before either of you could speak another word his tall figure emerged in your peripheral vision, the glare he was sending your way not what you expected. You watched as his expression changed when his gaze dropped to the small girl in your arms, it was almost instantaneous the way his eyes lit up mouth settling into a gentle smile as his hand reached to softly rub up and down her back, his hand bumping into yours before he carefully extracted her from your arms.

“Hey, little monster.” His voice rang through your ears as Eva let out a small giggle before throwing her arms around his neck, the two of them squeezing each other las though their lives depended on it. You tore your eyes away from them as he began whispering to her eyes finding the only other person in the room only to find her already looking at you curiously as you offered a small smile. “Nat could you uh, take Eva for a bit the two of us need to speak.” His words were punctuated by his hand gesturing between you and him.

The woman you now knew to be Nat stood there for a moment before nodding her head as Richie set Eva down so she could walk. You let out a small laugh as Eva moved to wrap her arms around your legs in a goodbye hug before you squatted to her level passing off her goody bag, the small child wrapped her arms around your neck in one last goodbye hug before moving to follow her aunt. “C’mon Eva, why don’t you show me all your goodies in the office.” Nat sent you one last smile before spiriting the two of them away.

You stood to your full height next to Richie both of you watching as they disappeared through the kitchen before the older man rounded on you, hand shooting out with lighting speed as he gripped your bicep and pulled you further from any prying ears in the kitchen finding a perfectly good corner to berate you in.

“Who in the fuck do you think you are?” Richie’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked at you awaiting your answer, the anger he felt translating his iron grip on your bicep.

Frowning, you shook your head confused as to why you were the object of his ire before he spoke over any words you’d thought about spewing. “Waltzing in like some fucking hero carrying my daughter and shit like you just did me the biggest favor in the world.”

Your anger was beginning to peak at the hostile attitude you were receiving, the confusion quickly replaced by how irate you were beginning to feel as your hand came up to shove his arm off of you watching in satisfaction at the look of surprise with how much force was behind it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Mr. Jerimovich, but you’re not going to stand here and berate me like I deserve it.” Your brows pinched in irritation as you took a step closer into his space, the man's huffs of breath hitting your face. “And for the record, I didn’t do this for you, because while Eva may have been happy to see you a moment ago, you don’t know how distraught she was sitting all alone at the library thinking you’d forgotten about her.” It wasn’t necessary but your last few words were followed by your fingers poking harshly into his chest as you tried to get your point across.

Richie clenched his jaw as your words rang in his ears as he took that last step closer to you closing whatever distance was left between the two of you, your chest brushing against his every time you breathed. “Don’t you ever fucking speak on me as a parent ever again? You fucking hear me?”

The timbre of his voice dropped exceptionally low, his words having taken on a warning tone as they ghosted across your lips. The anger he was stewing in basically emanated off of him, you knew you should have taken his warning, should’ve nodded your head and been on your way and washed your hands of the whole situation but against your better judgment, you just had to have the last words.

“Maybe next time, don’t put the responsibility of parenting your child on me.” You should’ve expected the blow-up, it was written all over his face the moment he saw you upon exiting the kitchen, but for some odd reason when it came to him you just weren’t satisfied until he looked like he hated you.

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he turned to walk away from you, only to be surprised when he spun back around just as fast, finger-pointing in your face as he backed you further into the corner.

“Fuck you!” His voice boomed across the restaurant, your eyebrows raised at just how loud he was, eyes darting behind his imposing figure as you hoped his outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me huh? Well, guess what sweetheart, if I’m such a shitty fucking parent what does that make you then huh? Letting me spread you out in pub-.”

His words cut off as you placed your hand on his chest before shoving him back remembering that regardless of how he felt about you, you didn’t have to sit there and take it not getting much further as he quickly moved around you to stand right back in front of you, “No, I’m not fucking done with you.”

“You think because you put on a suit and tie it makes you important?” You paused waiting for him to digest the words, watching on as the anger that once marred his face gave way to confusion. “You’re a 40-year-old fucking nobody.” You watched the hurt flash across his face, a sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through you at just how much you could hurt him with just your words as you tried to ignore the small inkling of guilt you could feel rolling around inside.

Richie’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, you followed the movement, eyes lingering longer than necessary at the peak of his Adam’s apple over the collar of his shirt before watching as he opened his mouth to speak only for you to beat him to it.

“Tell me this Richie, are you the type of man you would want Eva surrounding herself with?” The question wasn’t meant to rile him up anymore, it was a genuine question you thought he deserved to sit with. And as you stepped around him you tried not to let the embarrassment take over you at the sight of the audience that had since gathered listening to your spat.

Only offering them a small apologetic smile followed by a nod of your head as you took your leave, vowing that you wouldn’t ever give Richie another moment of your time willingly.

Richie did his best to listen intently as the woman across from him spoke passionately about her accounting job, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the circle of condensation that dripped off his glass of water. Dating was still weird to him, the idea that he was no longer loyal to the one person he planned on spending the rest of his life with would sometimes creep up on him when he least expected it, reminding him of how much of a failure he was in this life after already spending four decades on this earth.

The woman across from him wasn’t boring by any means, she was a great conversationalist and while her topic of conversation wasn’t anything to write home about, he appreciated the obvious love she had for her work. Since he decided to move forward with his life Richie’s dating history was mediocre at best, dates were few and far between and that was mostly due to his lack of trying and busy schedule with the restaurant, but on the nights that he did secure a date he was at least somewhat interested in it never felt like that interest was returned; as though he’d never met the level of expectations his dates held him to.

Familiar laughter made Richie sit up straighter in his chair, the restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet in any way but the fact that his ears latched onto that specific noise forced him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Richie’s eyes quickly found the source that caused the ringing in his ears; his hand unconsciously moved to adjust his tie and suit jacket as though doing so would catch the culprit's attention.

There you were tucked into one of the few darkened corner booths in the establishment, eyes locked on the person whose arm you were tucked under, whatever they were whispering in your ear was funny enough to deserve your laughter. Richie found himself watching you, unsure as to why he felt as though he couldn’t look away, the two of you weren’t on good terms by any means but for some reason he always found himself drawn back to you no matter how much you and your attitude pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure how he knew it was your laughter having only heard it a handful of times and never because of him, but it wasn’t like he could just un-notice you no matter how upset your words and observations from weeks ago made him.

If Richie was sure about anything in his life at the moment it was that you were avoiding him, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case was neither of you had contact with the other since you both spewed such scathing words to each other at The Bear, whenever it was his day to pick up Eva from the reading program it was like you were nowhere to be found even though he knew Eva preferred being by your side while she waited. Richie hadn’t realized just how much the whole ordeal frustrated him until hearing Eva make a passing comment about how she thought Frank was funny because you thought he was funny. His frustrations seemed to reach such a point that Syd even brought the argument up to him doing prep one day helping him to see the error of his ways in taking his frustration out on you when you were only doing what his ex-wife asked of you and putting Eva’s safety first when you could’ve easily left his daughter all alone because of his mistake.

He was pulled from his train of thought by his date across from him, the furrow of her brows had him rushing to assure her that he wasn’t ignoring her, using some excuse about how life at The Bear made him scatterbrained and while it definitely wasn’t the reason his mind wandered, with all the new shit Carmy was implementing it also wasn’t a lie. And that’s how the rest of his date went making idle conversation with a woman he was almost positive wasn’t interested in a second date with him as he let his eyes subtly drift to your corner every so often trying to ignore the way watching you radiate in your happiness made him feel a bit better about the whole night. Although seeing you tucked so snuggly into that corner against a man that wasn’t him made him envious.

Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when his night ended and even more so relieved at the amicable decision to not take whatever this was or could’ve been any further. But he was less than relieved to find you standing on the sidewalk waving off who he assumed to be your date for the night as you stood all on your lonesome, no ride in sight. He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that it wasn’t his responsibility that you made it home safe, but he also couldn’t allow himself to return to the safety of his own home only to wonder if you’d ever made it home at all. Maybe offering you a ride could extend an olive branch, he could even offer up the apology you deserved during the drive. But more than that, any chance you got you put the care and safety of his daughter first, he told himself it was only right to return the favor.

One of his hands reached to loosen his tie before he forced himself to put his pride aside and take the few steps he needed to get to you. Unsure of how to breach the topic of conversation he gave himself a few minutes watching as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, his irritation not only growing at the fact that you were left here alone but also the fact you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Richie cleared his throat before speaking, “Did they just leave you here with no way home?” It was a straightforward question and maybe he should have approached you differently as he watched you jump and clasp your phone in surprise at the sound of his voice.

The silence lingered between the two of you as Richie watched your eyes land on him in recognition, your eyes ran over his attire before looking from him to the restaurant. He took the time to let his own eyes roam trying to ignore the way your chest rose and fell as you tried to calm down from the fright before his eyes moved further down your figure, silently and respectfully drinking in the way the fabric of your outfit hugged your figure.

Richie tugged at his tie as he awaited your answer, eyes latching onto the bare skin of your shoulder where the strap of your outfit had fallen from when he scared you. He cleared his throat before looking into your eyes once more.

The noise seemed to rouse you from your stupor as you blinked away your surprise before opening and closing your mouth until you landed on the best response. “Why? Gonna critique my choice of date again?”

Richie bit his tongue ready to do exactly that, he decided to forego the eye roll and scoff he felt was necessary before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks rocking back and forth where he stood trying to decide if it was even worth offering you a ride with how comfortable you seemed to just stand there waiting.

“How was your date?” The curiosity was obvious in your voice but Richie didn’t allow himself to think anything of it as he raised his eyebrows in your direction.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched you look anywhere but his eyes, maybe this was your way of trying to keep the conversation cordial and make up for your snarky question. “What makes you think it was a date?”

“I…walked past your table when I got here.” He followed the motion of your head as you nodded to the restaurant, your eyes falling to his dress shoes afterward. “Seemed like you were having a good time.”

Richie shrugged his shoulder kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk, “Not as good as you and your date seemed to have.” He knew it wasn’t the answer you were expecting as he watched your eyebrows raise as you finally looked at him, but he hoped his curiosity would pay off.

As another silence settled between the two of you, Richie was sure that was his sign to leave. While the two of you could engage in conversations that lacked substance, maybe it was best not to push this moment between the two of you into hostile territory and just cut his losses when he could.

The sound of your voice made Richie’s brows raise as he listened to the timber of your voice dance through his eardrums. “What makes you think it was a date?” The slight uptick of the right side of your mouth had Richie biting back a smile of his own, a smile that he wasn’t interested in giving a second thought at that moment.

“The two of you seemed real chummy in that dimly lit corner. But you’re here and he isn’t so I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Richie wasn’t sure what forced the words out of him, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment these less-than hostile borderline flirty moments between the two of you brought him.

His eyes tracked the way you began chewing on your bottom lip, a part of him hoped you were just as confused as him in the feelings department. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I made him choose between me and the surgery he was called into?”

A fucking surgeon of course. Richie couldn’t help but let his mind drift to your words in the restaurant about how he was four decades into life with nothing to show for it. The ice-cold claws of reality sank further into him as he stared at the small smirk that painted your lips clueless to the inner turmoil raging through him.

Richie shrugged, settling back into the cocky facade he always wore, “Seems to me like he didn’t make the right choice.”

The surprised laughter that forced its way out of your lips caused a genuine smile to grace Richie’s lips while he stood only feet from you watching you indulge in his stupid words as Chicago’s nightlife painted you in a cacophony of colorful light imprinting a most memorable image of your joy into his mind.

There were two options for Richie at that moment, end the conversation with you here and be on his merry way. Or he could offer you the ride he’d planned upon first walking over here and make sure you made it home safely; he decided on doing the latter.

Richie eyed you for a moment longer hyping himself up as his eyes landed on the naked skin of your shoulder one more time. His long legs closed the distance between the two of you before he reached his hand out, fingers tracing up your skin as he adjusted the strap in its rightful place, the appendages lingering longer than needed before he dropped his hand back to his side.

“You uh…want a ride home?”

Silence wasn’t ever something that bothered you much, sometimes it was just nice to appreciate the moment without a bit of sound passing, but sitting in Richie Jerimovich’s car with nothing but the quiet sound of the radio station to fill the void of silence as he drove to your apartment bothered you more than you’d liked to admit.

And if the awkward car ride wasn’t enough here the two of you stood just outside your apartment door as you searched through your clutch for your keys. You couldn’t be sure what compelled you to invite him up or what even compelled him to accept the invitation but it felt too late to rescind the offer as you slipped your key into the lock, standing in the quiet hallway as the door knob gave way before moving to the next lock.

You could feel the heat of him against your back as you worked the lock, trying to ignore the involuntary goosebumps rising on your skin rushing to push through to your apartment before turning to him with a tight smile and gesturing him inside. You watched as he hesitated, probably as apprehensive as you considering your track record with each other before he stepped over the threshold into your abode allowing you to close and lock the door.

A quiet deep breath filled your lungs as you hyped yourself up for what you were about to do. In the short amount of time you’d known him, Richie Jerimovich was a consistent pain in your ass but you also couldn’t deny the sensual touches and hungry kisses the two of you shared in the parking lot all those nights ago, or the way you oftentimes found yourself thinking about the older man. And if you were being honest with yourself, you felt guilty for the scathing words you left him with when dropping Eva off.

Turning from the door your eyes landed on the back of his suit jacket watching as he stood in your living room with a framed picture in his hand. It wasn’t surprising that he would look around your home, but the sight of him in your space didn’t make you as uncomfortable as you first thought it would.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You leaned against the island to take off your shoes as you let your question linger in the air, looking up to already find him staring at you, hands clutching the picture frame.

He cleared his throat before turning to place the frame back where he found it, “Just a water…please.”

You nodded, moving to the sink and washing your hands before grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet and filling them up with the filtered water from the fridge. You turned to find Richie standing opposite you on the other side of the island as you held out the glass to him ignoring the way his fingers brushed yours as he took hold of the glass.

“Thank you for driving me home tonight.” you paused as he shrugged off your words like they were no big deal. “I really appreciate it.”

This whole ordeal felt awkward, him sitting here in your home, the two of you playing at being cordial or whatever the hell this was, especially considering the few words he’d spoken since stepping in were curt with no room to continue the conversation.

“Don’t mention it,” he raised the glass of water to his lips taking a sip. “Should probably drive yourself if you plan on going on any more dates.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you chuckled, knuckles drumming against the counter as Richie’s words of warning rang through your ear, an obvious shot at the fact he’d found you alone outside the restaurant waiting for the car that was sent for you.

“Why? You not gonna be there next time to take me home?” You raised your eyebrows letting him know his words weren’t as subtle as he might have thought they were.

“I dunno, you gonna invite me in if I do?” Richie’s lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the visible surprise encapsulate your face at the fact he was willingly bantering with you after all of the harsh words previously shared between the two of you.

Snatching the glass out of his hand you turned to refill his half-empty cup needing a moment to compose yourself before you allowed your interest in him to get the best of you and make a mistake you’d be sure to regret. Reminding yourself of the initial reason you invited him up with you, and it wasn’t for the two of you to go tit for tat with flirty words.

“I…uh,” you cleared your throat as you spun around to hand him the glass back. “I want to apologize for what I said to you…about you all those weeks ago.”

You watched as his lips settled into a grim line, eyes falling to your hands that sat between the two of you flat against the surface of the island. “It wasn’t fair of me to call your parenting into question. It’s really none of my business-”

“No uh, you were right,” you stopped mid-sentence as Richie’s voice interrupted you, confusion marred your features as he spoke once again. “I fuckin’ forgot about her.” The admission seemed to weigh heavy on him as you watched Richie sink in on himself, his shoulders losing the tenseness they usually held as he moved to sit on the stool at his side plopping down on it unceremoniously.

“That night she uh…Eva just started crying about how scared she was, how she thought she wouldn’t see me again. And it sounds ridiculous as I say it, but she’s a fuckin’ kid ya know everything is the end of the world to her.”

You didn’t interrupt him, allowing the man to speak about a situation that took up a lot of space in his mind. It wasn’t your place to listen and comfort the man across from you, but the two of you were already so messily entangled with each other that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop his venting.

“You uh…you didn’t deserve all that shit I gave you at the restaurant, I was just blaming you for my fuck up, using you as a fuckin’ punching bag. So I uh…I want to apologize 'cause I was being a fuckin’ jagoff disrepectin’ you and shit by bringing up the parking lot.” He’d finally looked up at you, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment looking as though he’d just been scolded for his transgressions against you.

“I’m sorry for speakin’ to you like that, it wasn’t right and you didn’t deserve it.” The intensity of his gaze froze you in your spot as he bestowed you with a proper apology. “And thank you for looking out for Eva the way you do.”

You nodded, sending him a tight smile as you let his words soak in appreciating the fact that he was aware of just how uncouth trying to shame you about the moment you shared with him in the parking lot was. If you were a worse person you would’ve allowed him to take the brunt of the blame, and as much as you hated admitting you were at fault for something, the least you could do was match his vulnerability with a sincere apology of your own.

“Thank you Mr. Jerimo-,” you paused as his index finger gently tapped the center of your palm, eyes landing on yours as he shook his head with a slight frown, the understanding washed over you immediately. “Richie…thank you for apologizing. But you should know that I only said those things out of anger, and I know that’s no excuse…I just lashed out intending to hurt you. And I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you.”

It felt immature as the words left your lips, finally speaking aloud your reasoning for even insinuating that he was a bad parent. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but it felt as though the two of you understood each other just a bit more, not that the conversation was deep enough for anything of the sort but through all your run-ins with him you’d gathered that he didn’t respond well to his parenting being called into question.

Your eyes fell to your palm where the pad of his finger remained, the lightest bit of pressure still there. The organ in your chest picked up speed as you watched the appendage slowly begin moving further across your palm skating closer and closer to your pulse point all you could do was watch, the feeling of yearning you felt just a few short months ago returning more intensely than the last time.

“Eva has a bracelet similar to this.” His whisper was accompanied by his thumb swiping across the skin of your wrist just under the material of the bracelet. You felt frozen as his eyes looked up to meet yours, thumb grazing back and forth as he waited for an answer.

You gave a slight nod trying to ignore how touch-starved you felt, the calloused pad of his thumb provided you with such a small comfort you weren’t aware you were yearning for. “I know,” your eyes bounced between his eyes. “It was the last day of school activity I did with the kids.”

Richie’s thumb caressed the vein on your wrist once more, a gentle back-and-forth guiding motion. You watched as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth, and his eyes fell back to the accessory snuggly wrapped around your wrist.

He thought it was cute the way you wore something you made with your students long after they moved on from you. His heart warming at the thought of Eva being taught by someone as thoughtful and as kind as you, well at least when it comes to children. A stray thought raced through his mind wondering if life would ever offer him the chance of surrounding himself with someone like you. As his thumb continued to absentmindedly trace back and forth across your pulse point he came to the harrowing realization that what he longed for wasn’t someone like you; it was you.

You watched in real-time as the small smile dropped from Richie’s lips and his thumb stilled on your wrist before snatching his arm away as though he’d been burned. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at the visceral reaction making you question if you did something to unknowingly cause it.

Richie’s tall figure rising from the barstool guided your eyes, “Thanks for the water, but I should head out.” His words sent a wave of dismay through you as you quickly schooled your features, nodding along to his words as you tried to put on a neutral front watching as he walked around the island towards the front door.

You followed after him, mind straying to the article of clothing that hung in your closet. He hadn’t asked for it back but you intended to return it to him all this time and the longer you stood there thinking about it the harder it felt to willingly part with the jacket. Was it weird of you to want to keep it for just a little longer? The thought left as easily as it came when Richie began unlocking your door and another more pressing matter came to the forefront of your mind.

“Richie,” his slender form turned around faster than you expected and you looked into his eyes unsure of how to word your next sentence, the fleeting idea of asking him to stay crossed your mind before you wrangled your thoughts and settled back on your initial inquisition. “I uh know it’s been a few months but I just wanted to make sure…no one knows about that night, right?”

You felt vulnerable under his stare as you watched his eyes flash in recognition slowly roving over your figure, drinking you in like you were the last bit of water on earth before he cleared his throat looking into your eyes once more, a slight dusting of pink atop his cheeks. You held his gaze trying to ignore the tension-filled air as you were more than positive both of you were silently remembering the short-lived affair of that night.

A quiet intake of breath filled the living area of your apartment as you allowed Richie to close the distance between the two of you, his fingers slowly reaching out entangling with yours, the two of you enraptured by the other’s stare. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before his unoccupied hand hesitantly reached up nimble digits softly ghosting the side of your neck, eyebrows raising in question as you offered him a small nod of approval before his hand came to gently grip your neck, his gaze never once leaving yours.

“I told you that night nothing was gonna happen didn’t I?” The way the rough pad of his thumb stroked back and forth against the side of your neck had your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into his body head slowly nodding along to his words. “No one saw us. I promised you that…and I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you even if someone did.”

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the breath of his sentence against your lips. The hand entangled with your fingers slowly traced a path up your arm guiding over the bracelet on your wrist and ghosting over your pulse point before settling on your tricep, his thumb massaged gentle circles into the muscle in tandem with his other thumb moving from caressing the side of your neck to your jawline.

The two of you easily could’ve stayed in that position all night just basking in each other’s gaze, the both of you teetering dangerously on the edge of this will they won’t they game you both seemed adamant to indulge in. You found yourself standing in his embrace imagining what things would be like between the two of you if that night went further than it did, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here in your apartment wishing that one of you was brave enough to make the next move and send the two of you spiraling into whatever kept drawing you back to the other.

It was almost imperceptible and if it wasn’t for his nose gently bumping against yours as he breathed you wouldn’t have realized he leaned in. You wanted more than a lean in, you wanted to feel his kiss against your lips, to allow his work-weathered hands to map out your body. But as you searched his eyes you realized his uncertainty matched yours, you could meet him halfway easily and maybe that’s all you needed to do. To let Richie know you were just as unsure as he was, but you were willing to test the waters as long as he was.

A moment of hesitation passed before your eyes fluttered shut once more as an insurmountable amount of want swelled in you as you allowed yourself to take what you wanted, what was willfully being offered to you. Your free hand reached up to press into Richie’s chest just before you leaned in softly slotting your lips against his, pressing a gentle apprehensive kiss onto his lips appreciating the way his hand just under your jaw gave a slight squeeze when you moved to pull away, carefully keeping you in place increasing the tenderness of the kiss, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Pushing off his chest caused your lips to slowly detach from his, your eyes not daring to open as his forehead pressed into yours, lips ghosting together with each breath you shared. You could feel his hand flexing against your neck, your hand burning as you felt his heartbeat against it. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand left your bicep to grip the other side of your neck tilting your head back just slightly, your eyes shot open to quietly watch as one of his thumbs glided across the seam of your lips with a sense of awe.

Richie’s pupil seemed to swallow the blue of his irises as you looked into his eyes watching in wait as his eyes darted around your face cataloging whatever features he could get his eyes on before finding yours once more. On instinct your hand that wasn’t on his chest moved to grip his left wrist, fingers delicately tracing the veins on his hand before subtly turning your face into his wrist and placing a lingering kiss to his pulse point relishing in the quiet groan that rumbled through his chest.

Having Richie in your apartment like this was dangerous, but as the shrill ringtone of an incoming call rang through your apartment you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that another moment with the man was interrupted, maybe for the best. You weren’t sure if the deep breath he let loose was in disappointment or relief as the heat of his forehead moved from yours followed by the roughness of his palms and he stepped out of your space before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

“Hey little monster what’s going on?” You watched Richie’s back as he spoke into the phone shame filling you at the thought of telling him not to answer when the phone initially rang now that you knew it was Eva on the other line.

You tried to calm your racing heart hoping it wasn’t visibly obvious just how much the man affected you in such little time. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself having never felt awkward and out of place in your apartment before, knowing that you looked ridiculous just standing where the older man left you as you tuned out his conversation, instead moving to the frame he picked up earlier and adjusting it to its rightful place so you at least didn’t look like you were just waiting for him to finish his conversation.

The clearing of Richie’s throat from where you left him had you spinning around to face him trying to keep your eyes locked on his face even though seeing him stand there with his tie loosened and hands in his slacks made your mind race with dozens of scenarios.

“I should be getting home.” Richie’s rough voice reached your ears and the earlier disappointment returned tenfold.

You nodded, sending a forced understanding smile his way, moving to once again close the distance between you two only stopping just before you invaded his personal space folding your hands in front of yourself and trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “Thank you for the ride, I'll uh pay you back.”

“You think I helped you today 'cause I wanted somethin’ from you?” His voice dropped an octave as he straightened up eyes moving all across your face as he awaited your response.

You hesitantly shook your head at his words unsure if you could string a coherent sentence together with the way just his look heated you. You stood silent as he took a step forward invading your personal space once more, not that you minded as you allowed his hands to grip your waist lazily holding you in place as though he knew you had zero urge to be rid of him or his touch.

No words were spoken as you allowed his hand to slowly glide from its place on your hip up the curve of your torso biting your lip at the touch before once more finding purchase cupping the underside of your jaw and forcing you to hold his stare.

“I helped you because I wanted to.” His hand slowly began its descent down your neck before skating across the bare skin of your clavicle and landing atop the strap of your dress, fingers gently playing with the fabric. “Don’t think you owe me anything for it okay?”

Richie’s eyebrows raised as several seconds ticked by without a response from you, hand giving a soft squeeze to your shoulder in a bid for you to show him you understood.

“Okay.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you gently nodded enraptured with the trance he seemed to put you in.

“Good,” the timber of his voice was punctuated by his thumb and forefinger slowly pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder, leaving the skin fully exposed to the cool air of your apartment, his eyes burning into you as he caressed the space your strap once sat. “You should get out of these clothes and get some sleep.”

You stood still as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead before removing himself and leaning in to brush an opened mouth kiss against the skin of your shoulder. He pulled back before you could even ask for more, you watched as he gave you one more longing look before turning his back to you and taking his leave.

Quiet music drifted through your apartment as you sat in your living room. A relaxing glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to the puzzle you started working on not long after Xiomara left, your nighttime shower and skincare routine having already been knocked out. You usually didn’t stay up this late, but your weekly dinner with Xio ended later than usual as the two of you filled each other in on anything interesting that happened in your lives, including your little back-and-forth with a certain older man.

The sound of knocking drew your attention, you brushed it off as your neighbor. They were always up doing random shit at this time. Another round of knocks led your eyes to your door. You realized there in fact was someone knocking on your door at almost midnight. You were happy to just ignore it as it seemed whoever the culprit was gave up due to the silence but the sound of quiet cursing raised your curiosity so you rose from your position on the floor deciding to check the peephole.

As you gazed through the peephole you were surprised to see Richie’s figure turning to head back down the hallway presumably to the elevator. Confusion swept through you as you tried to think of any reason he would be at your door so late at night only to come up empty. In a split second without much thought, you were undoing the locks on your door before swinging it open.

“Richie?” Your quiet call of his name stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning into his back as you waited for him to face you curious about his presence. “It’s almost midnight, is everything okay?”

You tried to think of any reasons he would be in the hallway leading to your apartment at this time, surprised to see that he even remembered where you lived. He spun on his heel to face you, your eyes darted around his figure to make sure there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him but found he seemed to be unscathed dressed in what you were still getting used to being his usual attire; a dress shirt and tie with slacks sans a jacket.

His lack of speaking was worrying you, and you were sure a few nosy neighbors would quickly poke their heads out if you continued speaking out into the hallway any longer.

“Did you want to…come in?” The confusion was evident in your voice but you felt relieved as he gave a slight nod before making his way back to your door and stepping into your apartment. He walked past you as you closed and locked your door trying to figure out what the next steps were in this situation.

You moved to walk around him, sending a small smile his way as his eyes followed you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call anyone?”

It was like Richie realized just how weird he was being showing up on your doorstep late at night, offering you no words or explanation. Maybe it was the worry in your voice that finally got through to him. “No sorry I uh,” he paused, clearing his throat before settling into the man you were used to interacting with, taking a small step forward into your space. “I wanted to see you.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and a flurry of emotions swam through you, relief that nothing was seriously wrong with the man followed by a fluttering in your chest at the idea of him randomly showing up on your doorstep just to see you.

“Oh.” The lackluster reply was the best you could do as you tried to reign in the way a simple sentence made you feel.

Richie’s chuckle drew you from the thoughts racing in your mind eyes meeting his as he watched you, almost like he could see your thought process, “You uh look pretty busy though sorry for interruptin’ you.”

You followed as his eyes looked to the coffee table over your shoulder, a smile lining your lips as you turned to look back at him, a false sense of confidence radiating through you. You reached out for one of his hands taking a step forward to close the minuscule distance separating the two of you and gazing into his eyes as your chest brushed against his with every breath.

“Did you want to help?” You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips then to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Your mind envisioned a myriad of sinful ideas about his beard before you cleared your throat to find his gaze once more.

A more serious look settled across his face as his own eyes were preoccupied with something else before he gave a small nod in agreement.

“Yo no! There’s no fuckin’ rules to puzzles.” Richie’s voice boomed through your apartment as he pointed at the puzzle pieces in front of each of you.

Laughter bubbled out of you at how passionate his argument was becoming, you weren’t sure if it was the wine getting to you or if the lack of animosity between the two of you was finally allowing you to relax in Richie’s presence.

The pounding on your kitchen wall made you jump in your seat surprised by the noise but unsurprised by the yelling that followed, “Shut the fuck up over there!”

“Oh fuck you!”

You raised a finger to your lips trying to get Richie to quiet down as you fought to control your laughter, not wanting to wake up with a noise complaint taped to your door. You watched as the frown on Richie’s face smoothed out before a smile grew on his face and his laughter emerged.

A small smile remained on your face as you replied to Richie’s earlier grievance, “Everyone knows you build the border of the puzzle first.” You pointed down to the border you’d barely added to since Richie’s arrival, instead allowing him to regale you with what his night consisted of, surprised to find that he’d been just a floor below you for most of the night with friends and you never would’ve known if he hadn’t decided to visit you.

Richie sucked his teeth before looking at the puzzle pieces you pointed at, shaking his head as though they offended him, “No, you leave the border for last cause it’s the easiest. Brings the whole picture together.”

You didn’t want to admit that his point was valid so you shook your head in disagreement, “Come on, building the border is like building the foundation of the puzzle.” Your hand traced the bit you’d put together so far before motioning to the irregular-shaped pieces. “Then you just keep building it up piece by piece, the fun is in realizing that even if certain pieces don’t fit together everything has its rightful place and once you’ve done all the building you get to see all your work pay off.

The weight of Richie’s gaze felt heavy on you as he allowed your words to sink in, having no initial comeback wasn’t something you were used to. You gave him a small smile the longer he stared at you before fingering through the puzzle pieces and deciding to continue it.

“You always spew weirdly poetic shit at 1 a.m.?” The smile in Richie’s voice was apparent before you even looked up, his lips upturned softly as he stared at your hands idly messing with the pieces on his side of the coffee table.

You shrugged your eyes shooting at his pile of pieces before reaching over to grab a piece that looked like it might fit, “I’m usually not entertaining guests past midnight.”

Richie gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as his focus landed back on the puzzle pieces scattered around the table, the two of you basking in each other's calming presence as you worked to finish the puzzle, quiet words exchanged regarding which pieces fit where.

With a quarter of the puzzle left to complete you found your eyes straying to Richie more often than probably necessary, watching the concentration on his face as he aligned pieces where they fit. It was odd seeing him so calm in your presence considering how rocky your relationship started with him, you didn’t think you’d ever willingly let him into your safe space let alone enjoy having him there.

“How’s that doctor of yours?” Richie’s words pulled you from your study of him.

Confusion marred your features at the tightness of his voice, he showed up on your doorstep at one in the morning and that’s what he was fucking asking you about?

He caught your eye as he looked up eyebrows raised in question, “I can give you his number if you’re that interested in him.”

The loud scoff from across the table made you smile, “What about you? Any luck with the dating apps?”

Richie’s knee knocked against yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, but as you looked up you realized he’d been watching you for some time, “Decided I’m done with all that shit.”

A chill raced down your spine at how sure he sounded, and maybe it was wishful thinking or you were just being full of yourself, but you couldn’t help but think you were the reason for that decision. You cleared your throat unsure of what to say as you let your attention fall back to the puzzle on the table, it was comical the ease with which you could argue with the older man. But these polite flirtatious conversations just felt different, the underlying tension in them felt different and you weren’t sure how to go about dealing with it. The quiet clearing of Richie’s throat and the slight removal of his knee from the space your legs were internally made you cringe. He was expecting a much different reaction from his statement.

Quiet descended upon the two of you once more as you tried to keep your focus on finishing the puzzle, only for your mind to constantly drift with all the things you wanted to admit to Richie in that moment. You remembered clearly the day when he told you all those months ago that you were a constant in his mind and now all you could do was wonder if this is what it felt like for him. The way your mind latched onto him after the parking lot didn’t feel healthy but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want more of his time, more of his presence even when he pissed you off to no end.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of it all, once more looking up from the puzzle to find Richie so engrossed with the pieces he was putting together. You couldn’t be sure but outside of Eva being around, this felt like the calmest you’d seen him in your presence. The tension in his shoulders seemed almost nonexistent, his face was relaxed and not at all filled with whatever stress the day brought him. It was like a different person was sitting in your living room, no animosity filled the air between the two of you and the longer you let your eyes rove his face the more confident you were that you liked this version of Richie best.

Hesitantly your hand reached across the table before gently landing atop Richie’s, watching as his eyes moved from the puzzle pieces to your hand on his then to your face. You bit your bottom lip before speaking, “If I asked you to stay the night only because I was worried about you getting home safely what would you say to that?”

The thudding of your heart made you sure it was trying to beat out of your chest the longer Richie sat there staring at you without saying anything. A part of you wished you could take it back, it was a lame excuse, but you could never be too sure with the older man and this option seemed to offer less teasing than if you asked him to spend the night with you outright.

“I would say,” His words were followed by his hand turning over so his palm was just under yours, the roughness of his fingertips brushing against your wrist as he held your gaze. “It’d be rude of me to disregard your hospitality, leave you here all alone late at night worried about me. So I’d stay to ease your worries.”

“Good.” A small knowing smile lined your lips before you removed your hand from under his, making sure to grab your empty wine glass and standing.

As you made it to the sink and began washing out the glass, you felt like you were too far out of your depth. Maybe you overestimated whatever false confidence being around Richie gave you, but didn’t you deserve to go after something you wanted? Richie was an adult and you were sure if he had no interest he would’ve left whenever he was ready, hell he wouldn’t have even shown up in the first place. You rinsed out the glass before setting it on the drying mat.

You turned to find Richie sitting on your couch with the book from the side table in his hands. Smiling as you walked towards him stopping to stand in front of him as he looked up at you, the desire to touch him had your hands pushing his legs apart giving you enough space to stand in between them as he leaned back further into the couch manspreading gently placing your book down next to him.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed up and down the fabric over his thighs as you stood as close to him as the couch would allow, your right hand slowly traced up his thigh following the anatomy of his body up his torso before your hand landed on his slightly loosened tie.

“You know for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night…thinking about you,” you paused as your fingers nimbly began to undo his tie. “And then you drove me home last week and for a moment I thought I’d finally be able to have you in the way I wanted.”

The warmth of his hand reaching out to cup the back of your thigh raised your confidence even higher, carefully climbing atop his lap as he tugged you closer caging him in between your legs. Your hands landed on his shoulder before caressing down his chest and landing on the top button of his dress shirt. Richie’s hands landed upon your own, your lust-filled eyes taking in the apprehensive look on his face. You paused, unsure of yourself before you moved to get up only to stop when his hand fell to your waist keeping you in place.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you couldn’t help how small and insecure your voice sounded.

You moved your hands back to his shoulders trying to create a bit of space between you two looking at a spot over his head instead of at him.

“No, hey look at me,” one of Richie’s hands moved up to cup your chin, gently turning you to face him.“All of this shit…it’s just new to me you know I don’t know how to do this casual shit.” His thumb lightly rubbed across your chin, the vulnerability in his eyes and words keeping you locked in.

“I haven’t done shit like this in years, never thought I’d be divorced trying this shit again. Believe me, I want tonight with you, but what happens after that? Am I supposed to just fuck off and act like I don’t want more with you?”

Slowly your hand moved across his shoulder before softly cupping the side of his neck. It wasn’t the time to mention it but you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted to the man in front of you as he shared the insecurities he was feeling about the growing attraction between the two of you.

“You enjoy tonight,” your thumb traced a path up the side of his neck eliciting a shiver. “We indulge in each other, in our desires and then we go from there. Maybe breakfast in the morning.” You smiled at him watching the tense line of his silhouette relax. “I don’t know what’s going to come from this…but I know I don’t want this to just be one night.”

Your words lingered in the air as the two of you stared at each other, Richie’s smile growing to match yours as the two of you kept your hands on each other's skin. The way Richie stared at you brought back that familiar warmth he always seemed to elicit within you, his pupils slowly dilated as they roved over your face.

The previous tension between the two of you before the turn of conversation ignited once more, your eyes locked on the others as though in a trance. The feeling of his fingertips tracing the skin of your bottom lip made you feel dizzy at the thought of how easy it would be for him to touch you however he wanted, sent a surge of desire coursing through you. You could see the realization flash across his face his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers that once pressed into your hip began a featherlight trail under your shirt and up the skin of your back, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip at the delicate touches your eyes fluttered as he traced his way along your spine your shirt rising the higher his hand moved his fingers ghosted across the space between your shoulder blades pushing you further into his chest.

Richie’s hand gently grazed down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake as it found your hip once more pulling you down against him your quiet moan being drowned out by his unabashed groan as you settled atop him relishing in the way the hardness in his pants pressed up against you. His mouth fell open as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hip before his hand skirted down the side of your hip traveling further and further before it met the skin of your leg below the hem of your sleep shorts, his calloused hand running just under the cut of your ass before cupping the back of your thigh, the heat from the palm of his hand warmed your thigh before he gripped your skin his thumb located near your groin slipping under the fabric of your shorts to caress the junction of your hip so close to where you wanted to feel him most a wanton moan escaping you as you unconsciously trapped his hand between your bodies and began rubbing yourself against him needing any bit of reprieve you could get.

His labored breathing hit your face as you allowed yourself to grind against him without consequence, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at not only the feeling but the way he was allowing you to use him to make yourself feel every bit of pleasure you deserved to feel. A high pitched keen left your lips as his free hand tugged the collar of your shirt before attaching his lips to your neck sucking and biting any piece of skin he could get his mouth on.

“R-Richie.” Your moan of his name was followed by his hips rutting up into you, his mouth falling open against your collarbone as he spewed out soft curses against your skin. It was all too much and not enough at once a part of you having no problem dry-humping your way to an orgasm but selfishly you wanted him in every way he was willing to give himself to you. You wanted to know how his body would feel against yours, what he looked like under all the layers of clothing separating the two of you, what he felt like. You needed to know what he would look like atop you and what expressions would he make as he fucked himself into you, in and out in and out. Or maybe missionary wasn’t his thing, what would it feel like if he took you from behind his body crowding you in would he be gentle or would he fuck you in the way he thought you deserved harsh thrusts and bruising slaps to your ass as he punished you for all the attitude you gave him.

The thoughts racing through your mind had you grinding down faster and harder than you previously were. The tension building inside of you on the cusps of shattering through you, just a little more, and you’d be convulsing against the man below you who brought out so many emotions in you. The rough feeling of his lips finding yours startled you not realizing that your equilibrium was off until your back pressed into the carpet below a muffled whine ringing through you at the loss of contact you were once grinding against.

“Quit your fuckin’ whining and let me take care of you,” you felt like you were going insane as his hands slowly slipped under the waistband of your shorts dragging them down your hips and legs at a painstakingly slow pace. “Been wanting you like this ever since that night in the fucking parking lot.” His words were so quiet you weren’t sure you would’ve heard them otherwise, your body clenching against nothing as the cool air of the living room met the slickness spread between your legs.

You sat up on your elbows watching from your position on the floor in a daze as Richie stood above you eyes glued to your cunt as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt shrugging out of it before pulling the white tank top beneath it over his head. You let out an appreciative moan at the sight of the softness of his body wanting to run your hands over the planes of his torso, lavish him with the attention he deserved. You pushed off your elbows on instinct fingers wrapping into the belt loops of his dress pants catching him off guard as your lips met the softness of his tummy leaving eager kisses to whatever spots you could reach as he towered over your sitting form. Your hands moved eagerly from their position, one fiddling with his belt buckle wanting him to feel half of the pleasure he brought you in such little time as the other palmed his bulge through the material.

A surprised gasp ripped through your lips as his hand found the back of his neck pulling you off of him, the desire swimming in his eyes heating you even more. His hand moved from the back of your neck before cupping your jaw and tilting your head further up, you were surprised by the softness of his kiss your eyes closing on instinct as you relaxed into him, his hand on your jaw squeezing as he snuck his tongue into your mouth the appendage running across your own several times over as you followed his lead the passion in which he kissed something you never experienced before. You began maneuvering around trying to raise yourself wanting to feel more of him against you, until he pulled away your shared saliva connecting the two of you as he looked down on you. There was only a moment’s reprieve before his mouth was on yours again his lips moving so slow and sensually, this kiss was different from the very few you shared with him both of his hands now cupping your jaw as he lavished you with everything he had his lips wrapping around your much smaller tongue his head bobbing back and forth as he slowly sucked on your tongue before reluctantly pulling himself away, your eyes finally opening at the feel of his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared down at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Lay back f’me.” Richie’s words were whispered against your lips as you mindlessly obeyed lifting your shirt from under your bottom before leaning back on your elbows and then flat on your back.

You could hear his breath hitching as you found the confidence to spread your legs open so every bit of you was on full display. You waited in anticipation listening as he undid his belt before his pants landed somewhere away from the two of you, he gripped your ankle first, fingers skating up the skin of your leg in a slow almost teasing way as he traced a path up to your hip hand gliding across the skin of your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt and gently pushing it over the curve of your breast.

There wasn’t any time for nervousness to grip you as he settled between your legs, his head bending as he placed a soft kiss into the center of your chest. You could feel your heartbeat speed up as one of the hands he was using to hold himself up cupped the weight of your breast, the heat of his calloused palm drew a moan from you. A quiet gasp filled the living room as Richie kissed his way down your chest stopping to lavish your pebbled nipples in kisses before sucking one into his mouth.

The urge to cry out at finally being laid bare for him as he worked you up sat heavily in you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rose from your breast with a pop. The cool air making it even harder as he moved to show your other nipple the same appreciation. The feel of his teeth grazing across the nerve jolted you a quiet whine followed the movement as you gave in to just how good he was making you feel. You enjoyed the last few moments of pleasure his mouth gave your chest before he began to leave wet kisses down your torso as your legs squeezed around him in search of friction.

Richie’s quiet laughter vibrated against the bottom of your stomach before he moved to scoot back dropping kisses to your hip as he settled himself at eye level between your thighs. His groan reached your ears as he stared at all of your bare to him a whispered “fuck” followed before his lips were attached to the inside of your thigh earning him a guttural moan.

A gasp rang through the air as you felt Richie’s finger slowly trace the circle of your anatomy, you strained to look down your body just as the tip of his finger ever so slightly stretched you out, your hooded gaze finding his blue eyes already staring at you a flush blooming across his face. He held your gaze as he followed the same circular motion this time pushing his finger into the second knuckle as you bit your lip knowing it was way too late in the night for the noises you wanted to make.

Richie’s finger slowly moved inside you experimentally before finding the pattern that made you clench around him and crooked his finger inside your expertly eyes never leaving yours. “You gonna let me hear those pretty noises while I eat you out?”

The rough timber of Richie’s voice had you clenching around his finger, his tongue poked out to lick his lips as he patiently awaited your response maneuvering his finger slower with each second that passed. Your head moved up and down rapidly, sure you’d begin crying if he teased you anymore. “Y-yes Richie, please.”

You were thankful for the care he took when removing his long finger, the feel of every inch of it reverberated through you. He gave you one last small smile before his head disappeared, arms moving to snake around your thighs as his hands landed atop of them wearing your legs over his shoulders as though they were roller coaster restraints.

The first lick of his tongue from your hole to your clit had your head thudding back against the floor ignoring the pain of it as you moaned. Richie’s teeth sinking into your inner thigh caused a delicious hiss of pain to race through you, “Be careful.” You hummed in acquiescence, anything to keep him pleasuring you.

Richie’s tongue pressed flatly against you licking several languid stripes through your folds, each stroke of his thick warm wet appendage mingled erotically with your slickness as the mixture of fluids slowly dripped down you. At the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of you your stomach constricted in pleasure before your hands found purchase on the back of his head trying to anchor yourself to this moment with him. Vibrations from his moans traveled through you adding to the building pleasure along with the way his nose caught your clit just right as he dined on you like a man starved.

You couldn’t help the way you began grinding against his face chasing your release. You’d never been catered to like this before and as his arms moved to hold you down, mouth traveling through your folds before suctioning to your clit you were sure you were seeing stars. The muscles in your stomach tightened the longer and harder he sucked on you, your head grew fuzzy as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, incoherent babbling falling from your lips with each moment.

A loud whine rang through the quiet of your apartment as you finally gave in to your orgasm, you convulsed against Richie’s mouth as the waves of pleasure flowed through you. The aftershocks of it all caused you to jolt against him as you rode through your orgasm, overstimulation brought you back down to earth as you struggled to sit up finding Richie still attached to you.

“R-Richie,” a moan cut off your plea as you found yourself struggling not to succumb to the wickedness of his tongue. “Too much, i-its too much.”

Slowly Richie released himself from your placing a gentle kiss against your clit that jolted you before he leaned back on his haunches eyeing how debauched you looked. Your eyes traced the wetness that decorated his chin following the trail of your slickness into his now shiny beard before landing on the wet spot on his chest as it rose and fell.

Seeing him like this had you clenching around nothing as your hooded eyes fell to his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to return the pleasure. A silent conversation passed between the two of you before Richie stood up causing you to eagerly rise to your knees as you shuffled over to him before hungrily pulling down his boxers.

You stared up at him in appreciation, allowing your eyes to take in every line of him. The softness of his body was a welcomed surprise, he was strong you could see it in his arms and legs, there was no denying that. But you could tell he enjoyed life, indulged in what he liked, no rigid routine of diet or exercise. As you drank him in you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to the tuft of light brown hair between his legs home to the part of him you’d been waiting to experience.

Unconsciously you licked your lips before shuffling closer on your knees, one hand moving to grip his hip as you steadied yourself before holding the weight of him in your hand, marveling at his impressive erection. The feel of your hand softly caressing up and down his length drew a throaty groan from him as you watched pre-cum drip from his tip in pleasure.

You leaned forward tongue darting out instantly to swirl around the head of his cock needing to hear the noises he would elicit. You were rewarded with a softer moan looking up to see his head thrown back. Opening wide you took the weight of him in your mouth taking in what you could without gagging, moaning around him as the tuft of hairs gently touched your face. Richie’s moans of approval egged you on small back-and-forth movements were your starting point bobbing slowly against him with your eyes closed as sucking him off increased your pleasure.

As you bobbed faster against him your nails dug into the flesh of his hip, your tongue swirling around him as you listened to his mumbled curses. Richie’s hand moved to settle against your neck anticipation growing in you as you waited for him to fuck your face only to be disappointed when he gently pulled you off of him spittle on your lip the only thing connecting you to his cock.

You looked up in confusion, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to steady your breathing. Before you could question him he was leaning down to meet you the softness of his kiss not matching your previously voracious ministrations. You leaned into the kiss not at all minding how slowly his lips moved against you passion radiating through both ends of the kiss both of you getting a taste of the other.

Richie’s lips chased yours as you pulled away his eyes slowly opened to find you already staring at him, he cupped your jaw pressing a kiss into your forehead before helping you to stand. Once you were steady on your feet you placed your hand on his chest guiding him back into the loveseat in the corner of your living room watching as his body unceremoniously plopped down, his legs spread wide as his erection bounced off the surface of his stomach.

You moved to kneel in front of him once more, stopping as a hand gripped the front of your sleep shirt pulling on it to get you to climb atop him, resuming your earlier position. You sat above him on your knees, hands resting against his shoulders to hold yourself up doing your best to ignore just how close he was to being inside you.

“What’re you poutin’ for?” Richie’s voice was quiet as his fingers tapped against your lips.

You hadn’t meant to showcase your discontent but now that he brought it up you felt comfortable in voicing what bothered you. “Why’d you stop me?” You realized how immature your ire was as you spoke the words, annoyance growing towards yourself as you were sure you ruined the night.

“It’s nothin’ against you I promise,” his free hand moved to your side skating under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your hip. “Just not sure I’d be able to give you more if I let you do that.”

It was like every little thing about this man kept turning you on, understanding washed over your face as you pulled your lip between your teeth having to stop yourself from sinking onto him. The wheels turn in your head at just how starved of intimacy he must be.

“Has it been that long?” You weren’t sure why you asked, you had zero desire to hear about the intimacy he shared with anyone else but his explanation made you curious.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed into his shoulders helping him to release any tension this intermission might have brought forth.

“Too long,” you bit back a moan as both of his hands skated along the naked skin of your hips, dipping so close to where you wanted him. “I take care of myself though.”

His answer intrigued you, just thinking about him alone in his home late at night using his hand to pleasure himself. You hummed in interest as you looked down on him, your right hand on his shoulder traced a path down his chest appreciating the fact you were finally able to touch the softness of him. Your hand continued traveling down running through his happy trail before finally gripping him in your hand finding him still semi-heard as he moaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You languidly stroked him a few times watching the motion as you did so before looking back up at him to find his head tossed back against the loveseat, your free hand moving to grip his chin and force him to focus on you.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself,” you lowered yourself just enough to run the tip of his cock through your wetness choking down a moan. “Because I think about you.”

Richie let out a quiet curse before speaking. “Yeah?” His voice was breathy as he forced himself to hold your stare, his hands pressed into your hips with a vice-like grip as he helped to rock you back and forth against him.

“Mhmm,” you nodded your head trying to pretend you were unfazed by how delicious it felt every time his head caught your clit. “After you left my apartment the other night…I spread out right where you're sitting and played with myself wishing it was you.”

Richie let out a guttural groan as he thrusted up into your hand surging forward to attach his lips to your neck surprising you with the vigor alternating between open mouth kisses and sucking just hard enough for you to know where his lips decorated your neck through feeling alone, but not harsh enough to leave any evidence.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep talking like this and don’t let me fuck you.” Richie’s hands raced over any inch of skin he could find just needing to touch you in any way possible.

You lined yourself up with him, drunk on the obvious need he was exhibiting and it was all because of you. Slowly you lowered yourself, relishing in the tip of his cock as it burrowed inside of you, the movement earned the older man's full attention.

“Who said you were fucking me?”

Richie looked at you, mouth slightly agape at the feel of you slowly sliding down onto him, twin moans filling the apartment. He groaned, hands sliding around your hips to grip the curve of your ass to help you start moving.

It started slow, far too slow for two people who weren’t even sure they meant anything to each other but neither of you mentioned that, eyes locked on each other as you placed your hands on his shoulders using them to help steady yourself. Up, down…up, down.

“Arms up pretty girl,” Richie’s command was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it stopping as he held you down against him, moaning at the way he brushed that spot inside you just so. His hands moved from their place on your backside before gently tugging the hem of your shirt over your head whispering his approval at having you naked atop him.

Your hands found his shoulders once more as you began to ride him again. Speeding up as his lips found the curve of your breast and kissed across them. Richie filled you so well the length of him hitting just where you needed every time.

“That’s it, keep ridin’ me just like that. Fuck!” You threw your head back moaning at Richie’s words clenching around him at the idea of being coached through an orgasm he gave you.

A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your backside once more, anchoring himself so he could thrust up into you helping add to your pleasure. You hadn’t been riding him for long but everything about this man drove you crazy, your up-and-down motions growing more restless the harder he thrust into you.

You arched against him, hands finding the back of his thighs as you rode him like your life depended on it chasing the high your last orgasm brought you.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that right? Look so pretty ridin’ me f-fuckin’ usin’ me to get off.” Richie’s hoarse voice was going straight to your clit encouraging you to keep going even though your quads burned. “Say it.”

A quiet hum of agreement left your lips as you continued your ministrations the pleasure you searched for not far away. Richie’s hand roughly gripped your jaw pulling you from the world you were in, forcing you to look into his eyes the pupils having swallowed the blue of his irises. “Let me hear you say it?”

“W-what?”

The grinding of your hips slowed down once more as Richie held you there, his hips undulating at a slower pace as well. “Tell me h-how pretty you look r-ridin’ me.” He choked on his words as the two of you moved in sync taking in equal what you were giving back to each other.

You clenched around him, mouth falling open at his command unsure if you could get the words out before cumming. You moved atop him as he gave you a lazy nod encouraging you, you nodded along with him trying to work up the courage as your hand moved from his thigh to rest above his heart the thumping rhythm of it imprinted on your palm.

“I…” your words cut off as his hips languidly rolled into you, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck to pull your face closer, your forehead pressing into his. “I look s-so pretty riding you…l-like this.”

It was a struggle to get the words out but the way you clenched around him told the both of you just how aroused you were by the simple words. Richie let go of your neck allowing you to move back if you chose to but enjoying the way you stayed close to him, lips brushing against his with each move of your hips. One of his hands slipped between your bodies pressing into your clit as he simultaneously bucked into you with a fierce pace fucking you just how you wanted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck messily following his thrust chasing the pressure that built up in your stomach. Your nails raked down his shoulders as you babbled incoherent pleas into his ear essentially begging him to let you come.

No sooner were the words out of your lips did you cry out in ecstasy, tears escaped the corner of your eyes at how forceful your orgasm was your teeth sunk into Richie’s shoulder as you tried to silence your sobs of bliss body convulsing against him for the second time that night as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You collapsed against him in bliss boneless feeling your equilibrium shift once more, Richie gently laid you on the love seat, one leg kneeling atop the cushion while his other leg held him up never once disconnecting the two of you.

Richie’s hips pistoned into you at a punishing pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he held your body in place from his harsh thrust. You struggled to keep your eyes open wanting to watch him come. Richie’s loud grunts drowned out your quieter moans, both noises combining as you watched in awe as Richie chased his orgasm, desire rising within you once more just watching Richie use you in the way you used him only moments ago.

You watched in anticipation as Richie’s face scrunched up in concentration, his thrust becoming sloppier by the minute. You wanted to reach out to touch him but felt too blissed out to get your motor skills working instead enjoying the show being put on for you. Richie gave you two more harsh thrusts before quickly pulling out of you causing you to hiss at the suddenness and watch hungrily as his hand pumped himself one final time before he spilled all over your stomach and cunt, the sight of Richie riding out his orgasm burned into your brain.

Richie collapsed atop you uncaring that his cum was getting all over him. His forehead rested against your upper chest, his panting breaths cooling your heated skin. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your hand coming up to run through his hair as exhaustion settled into you. The feeling of lips pressing into your sternum forced your eyes to flutter open.

A lazy smile lined your lips as you tilted your head to find Richie’s forehead pressed into your chest as he pressed gentle kisses across your sternum. A soft giggle escaped you at the ticklish feeling his facial hair left behind watching as he looked up at you his exhaustion matched yours.

“We gotta get you cleaned up.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you with his cheek pressed into your skin.

You gave a noncommittal hum in agreement moving to sit up as Richie stood hands out to help you up. You pulled him behind you as you headed to the shower ignoring the way Richie perked up as the two of you entered your bedroom before reaching the bathroom, moving to turn the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up.

Richie helped you step into the shower before willfully following after you. You stood under the water with your head resting on Richie’s chest letting the warmth relax your muscles as Richie wrapped his arms around you pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.

The end of your night was spent pressed against the shower wall as Richie sensually fucked into you from behind, both of you indulging in everything the other had to offer. Before you both finally showered and got into bed, the softness of Richie’s fingers tracing patterns into your skin lulled you into a peaceful sleep engulfed in his warmth.

a/n: ayee yo they fuckin’ over here!!! i swear i’m so funny anyway here’s part 2 finally its long but worth it i promise. i hope anyone that dedicated their time to this tome of a fic enjoyed it and your days are forever filled with joy. also talk to me about it i love shootin the shit about the unhinged fics i write. anyway love y’all besties!!! 🫶🏽💕

#richie jerimovich x fem!reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich angst #the bear x you #the bear x reader #the bear fic

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cheolslz · 10 months ago

Text

maybe getting mad at your boyfriends over something petty wasn't the best idea.

pairing; 95line x fem!reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

w/c; 2.1k

a/n - based on this request. this is not proofread at all so ignore if any grammatical errors 😔 it's my first full fic so I'll appreciate any and every feedback!

smut warnings under the cut!

warnings; mentions of a creep at a club, poly, established relationship, dom!95line x sub! reader, degradation, petnames (babe, love, princess, cockslut), unprotected sex (don't do this), oral (m. receiving), double penetration, anal, creampie, slight chocking, fluff at the end. lmk if I missed anything!

It's 8pm. You haven't checked your phone all day. you were supposed to be off work 2 hours ago but your boss decided today would be the perfect day to ask you to do their monthly statistics compilation.

As you make your way upstairs the tiredness of the long workday finally kicks in. you sigh when you reach the door, wanting nothing more than to be in the comfort of your own home and your three boyfriends.

Hard days like this were guaranteed with a high profile job but you knew no matter what happens you’d always come home to the loves of your life.

As you open the door, the smell of your apartment fills your heart with a fuzzy warmth. You walk in and close the door behind you and it slowly hits you.

It's quiet.

Now living with 3 other people, there was always some form of noise in the house. Whether it be Jeonghan's tv show marathons, Joshua's guitar or Seungcheol listening to music, there was always some sound to fill the empty feeling in your ear.

A look around you can see that no one was at home. At first you assume Seungcheol was finally able to convince Jeonghan and Joshua to join the gym with him. You open your phone to see if any of them texted you their whereabouts.

[5:27]

Seungcheol : babe when are you off work?

Seungcheol : we were thinking of going to a movie

Seungcheol : i know you said you weren't interested in this genre but we really want to watch it

Seungcheol : text us when ur done?

[6:07]

Jeonghan : babeee the movie is at 6:30 you’re supposed to be off work by now where are youuuu

[6:24]

Joshua : hey we’re at the movie okay?

Joshua : we came without you because you said you last week that you weren’t that interested in this

Joshua : we’ll see you in 3 hours <3

Oh. They went to see a movie. Without you.

They’re not wrong, you did say war centric and movies more than 2 hours weren’t your thing but, they could’ve waited right? It's not like it's only going to play at the theatre once. They could’ve easily waited for you and asked?

You're not the type of person to get mad about things like this. Usually you'd brush it off and move on but maybe it's the mixed frustration of work and your boss that you decide to make a phone call

“Hey are you free clubbing tonight?”

So, this was a really bad idea. It's 9pm, you're at a shady club and your friend ditched you to go hook up with someone. When you initially called chan he was constantly reassuring you that he’ll be with you all night because you need it.

His bad jokes and humour for a second did make you feel better but the minute you guys entered the club and he laid his eyes on this girl, it was game over.

You can't blame him, she was pretty as hell. If he wasn't rushing to get alone with her you would’ve asked her where her eyeshadow was from. Now you're alone at the bar, staring at the drink in your hand. Your phone keeps lighting up with notifications but you don't respond.

[8:50]

Seungcheol : babe where are you?

Seungcheol : we left early because the movie was boring you were right

Seungcheol : please respond to us

Seungcheol : i know you're mad at us im sorry

[2 missed calls from Seungcheol]

[1 missed call from Jeonghan]

[3 missed calls from Joshua]

[1 missed call from Seungcheol]

You feel bad. You should respond, you should let them know you’re safe but for this once you feel like proving something to them. What exactly are you proving? Well, you haven't really figured that out yet.

You're staring at your phone when a voice interrupts your thoughts

“Hey, what's someone like you doing here alone?”

You look at your side to see a tall man in all black. He has short bleached hair and a pretty face. You laugh off his comment, not wanting to interact with anyone right now.

“Im mark, i couldn't help but notice how pretty you are” he smiles and extends his hand which you accept with a smile.

A few minutes of talking later, you start getting uncomfortable. Mark keeps trying to get you to leave with him even though you stated you had a boyfriend. He shrugs it off, his hand sliding to your waist and talking to you about how that doesn't matter.

You laugh nervously and excuse yourself to the bathroom, clutching your phone in your hands. You call the first person who shows up and he picks up in half a ring

“y/n? love where are you we’re worried sick”

“Seungcheol…im at levels bar please come pick me up there's someone making me uncomfortable”

You hear some shuffling in the background and Seungcheol reassures you that they're on their way.

About 20 minutes later you get a text from Joshua saying they're outside. You have to convince them not to come into the club, not wanting the situation to escalate or get worse. You successfully sneak out of the club, thanking your luck that Mark was now occupied with some other girl.

As you spot your boyfriends, you see relief wash over them. They bombard you with questions and when you confirm you’re okay, they help you in the car and drive back.

The air in the car is a little tense, no one clearly wants to bring up the topic of why you were at a club alone. Seungcheol had a rule you all followed - if there was something to talk about, you’d do it at home.

Once the car is parked, the four of you silently walk to your door. Jeonghan opens the door and lets all of you in. you take off your shoes and go sit on the couch, preparing yourself for whatever they’d ask you.

“Well? You want us to start?”

“I'm sorry” you say immediately, looking at the floor beneath you. You hear someone walking towards you.

A soft hand trails your face and lifts your chin to look up. Seungcheol has a small smile playing on his lips when he asks “what are you sorry for?”

“For getting mad at you guys and going to the club. I should've just told you i was mad at you” Seungcheol gives you a satisfied grin, his hand still forcing you to look at them standing over you

“We were worried sick, you know? You really almost gave us a heart attack” Joshua sighs looking at you. You give him a sad smile

“I'll make it up to you” you say and Jeonghan laughs loud, his voice echoing through the room

“Trust me you will” he says and walks over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashes his lips onto yours. He makes you lean back on the couch as he hovers over you, his lips moving in sync with yours as his tongue explores your mouth.

you feel the couch sink beside you and before you can see who it is, Joshua pulls you onto his lap, His firm body pressed on your back. You whimper as you feel his cock straining against his pants on your lower back.

It doesn't take long before they’ve helped you out of your clothes and all four of you are naked. Jeonghan goes to the bedroom to grab a bottle of lube.

You turn your face to kiss Joshua, slowly grinding your ass on his cock as Seungcheol sucks on your neck. His hands fondle your breasts, squeezing the pinching your nipple to hear those oh so sweet sounds you make. your moans muffled by Joshua's mouth.

You moan into Joshua's mouth as you feel Seungcheol trail his kisses down to your breasts and suck on them.

Jeonghan walks back in and tosses the bottle to Joshua. Joshua pours some on his fingers and circles your rim

“Gonna take me properly love?” Joshua whispers in your ear and you nod, unable to form coherent sentences. Joshua slowly aligns his cock with your rim and pushes in. The stretch hurts at first but the pain fuzes into a cloud of pleasure for you.

As Joshua slowly lowers you on him, Seungcheol aligns himself with your cunt. Unlike Joshua, Seungcheol isn't soft in the bedroom.

He knows exactly how to push you far enough for it to feel best, so he waits until you're fully lowered on Joshua's lap and he slams his entire length inside you.

His tip his your cervix perfectly, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“F-fuck.. So..fu-full” you moan out.

You take a moment to regain your breath, back arched on Joshua as groans in your ear.

Jeonghan, clearly feeling a bit left out, tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face off of Joshua's neck. He slaps his cock against your cheek and lips as he smiles down at you

“Open up” he commands.

As you open your mouth and suck Jeonghan's tip, Seungcheol takes the initiative to move. He slowly drags his cock out and thrusts his full length into you again making you moan on Jeonghan. The movement makes Joshua hit deeper in you.

Both of them start moving inside you. Seungcheol and him have a mismatched pace making you see stars as you suck Jeonghan harder.

Jeonghan holds the back of your neck and thrusts into your mouth, making you take him deeper as tears well in your eyes. He throws his head back and fucks your mouth.

The room is filled with groaning and skin slapping as Jeonghan hits the back of your throat with each move.

“Such a pretty fucking cockslut. You like us filling you up like this huh?” Seungcheol grunts and moves his hips faster. You try to respond but the cloud of lust fills your mind as you feel yourself reaching your edge.

Joshua, the ever observant slides his hand down to your clit and slowly rubs his thumb against it. The sensation makes you moan against Jeonghans cock, the vibrations making him moan your name.

After a few more thrusts you feel his movements stutter as he fucks your face.

“Want me to cum in your mouth princess?” he groans as you slip him out of your mouth to answer

“P-please Jeonghan..ne-need it”

Your pretty face begging for him is all he needs before he cums in your throat with a final thrust, painting it white. He pulls out and watches you swallow with a satisfied grin before collapsing on the couch next to Joshua.

The other 2 are not too far behind to follow, their movements becoming more erratic as they reach their highs. Joshua cums with a loud groan and throws his head back on the couch.

His hands keep moving on your clit as he comes down his high, his breathing heavy and inconsistent.

“Gonna fill you up so well you wont even fucking think about pullling this shit again” Seungcheol curses and his hand wraps around your neck. The slight cut in air with the stimulation on your clit makes you fall off the edge as you cum on Seungcheol’s cock, his orgasm following yours.

Your releases mix together inside you as he rides out his high. You lay back on Joshua as he and Seungcheol slowly pull out. The emptiness and the feeling of their cum spilling out of you makes you whimper. Your thighs sticky with your mixed releases.

You slowly feel yourself coming down from that cloud as Joshua pats your shoulder

“You okay? Did we go too hard on you love?” he asks with slight concern in his voice but you shake your head no. They could never hurt you.

The three of them help you get up and take a shower, laying out clean warm clothes for you and helping you lay on the bed. Jeonghan lays down next to you and pulls you into a warm hug.

“Don't do that again okay? You really had us worried” he whispers in your hair.

“Im sorry, i shouldn't have disappeared over something so small”

you say quietly but the 3 of them hear it, they always do.

Seungcheol presses a kiss to your forehead as Joshua rubs your back.

“We love you, don't forget that okay?”

866 notes · View notes

angelremnants · 5 days ago

Text

A TALES OF.. l Jasmins and Prayers

OR.. Still seething with frustration from what had transpired in the cave, Loki storms into his room while cursing your damned dress that lingered in his mind. The tension inside him grows as he struggles to maintain control, and the white jasmin petals floating in his bath only heighten the ache. Caught in a whirlwind of temptation and self-loathing, he finds himself confronted by the dangerous path his thoughts have taken—and, more urgently, by the overwhelming need to act on them.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), Loki-centric, emotional turmoil, graphic sexual content, gratification (male masturbation), twisted fantasies running wild, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), themes of norse lore and worship, edging, degradation & praise kink, power play, dom!Loki/sub!reader, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 15.1k

author's notes : Trust me when I say that I was biting my nail the whole time I was writing this—then again, I was also listening to Kiss Land on loop. The man is too hot for my well-being, Your Honor.

This is a continuation of A Tales Of Tides and Mishaps—you can also read this separately, but I'd recommend reading the first part to understand the context. This is the first time I've ever written something NSFW, so please do let me know how I did.

(ao3 version)

The torches lining the grand corridors of the palace flickered and hissed against the weight of the evening air, their golden glow casting restless shadows on the towering marble walls. The echo of footsteps—a sharp, deliberate rhythm—carried through the vast halls, announcing his approach. Loki moved swiftly, his cape billowing behind him like the rippling edge of a storm cloud, the emerald and black of his attire catching the light with each stride.

The palace was quieter at this hour, subdued under the veil of twilight, yet it was far from peaceful. Whispers of court intrigue hung in the air like smoke, weaving through every corner of Asgard’s opulent halls. It was a place that thrived on appearances, on masks as intricate as the golden carvings that adorned the throne room doors. Loki was no stranger to this game. He played it better than most—deftly, effortlessly, and always with an edge that dared others to challenge him.

Tonight, however, something gnawed at the edges of his mind, unsettling his usual composure. The weight of unspoken words lingered on his tongue, and the echo of a gaze—not his own—followed him like a shadow. He had faced gods and monsters, chaos and ruin, yet there was something about the quiet tension of that earlier encounter that refused to let him go.

The grand corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, the silence amplifying every subtle sound—the faint rustle of his cape, the barely perceptible sigh of the wind brushing against the windows, and the distant murmur of voices from somewhere deeper within the palace. Loki barely registered any of it. His focus remained inward, on the fire still simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.

It had been a fleeting moment, no more than a handful of exchanged words, but it had been enough to unearth something he had long buried—a vulnerability he could not afford, not now, not ever. And yet, there it was, clawing at him with an unrelenting persistence.

The throne room loomed ahead, its doors partially ajar, spilling warm light into the corridor. A faint hum of voices drifted out, the low cadence of his parents and their guest among them. Loki slowed his pace, his expression hardening as his gaze lingered on the doors.

He could walk in. His presence would be noticed, his words sharp enough to cut through whatever discussion [Y/N] was undoubtedly steering with her usual reckless charm. He could force himself into the center of it all, just as he always did—commanding attention, manipulating the narrative, and ensuring that no one, not even his mother, could look past him.

And yet, Loki hesitated.

The previous fire burned hotter now, threatening to consume him if he did not retreat. He turned on his heel, his movements swift and precise, and strode away from the throne room. Whatever tension awaited him within those gilded walls would have to wait. Right now, he needed to be anywhere else.

The corridors seemed darker now, the torchlight dimmer as he navigated the familiar path to his chambers. Each step brought him closer to the solace of solitude, to the space where he could strip away the mask he wore so effortlessly and face the tempest within.

His mind raced, the unease gnawing at him with increasing intensity. He had tried to ease the tension—an impromptu training session in the palace's sparring chambers had seemed like the perfect solution. The clash of blades and the heavy exertion of physical combat usually grounded him, soothed the simmering anger that had no outlet. But tonight, even the sharp sting of combat had failed to settle the fire within him. His movements had been fluid and practiced, and yet, the burning frustration lingered—nothing had worked.

As he reached his room, Loki paused for a fraction of a second, his hand resting on the cold metal of the door handle. The thoughts he had tried to suppress surged again, sharper this time, cutting through his defenses like a blade. With a sharp exhale, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the heavy wood creaking as it swung shut behind him.

The silence of his chambers was a stark contrast to the noise in his head. The air was still, undisturbed, save for the faint scent of cedar and leather that always lingered here. Yet, even in this sanctuary, he could not escape the weight of her presence, the echo of her voice, and the pull she had over him.

Tonight, Loki realized, no amount of distance would be enough to silence the chaos she had left in her wake.

⠀

The door shut behind him with a finality that seemed to press against his chest. Loki’s chambers were dimly lit, the golden light of a single lantern on his desk flickering faintly against the polished surfaces of dark wood and stone. The quiet hum of Asgard beyond his walls was muted here, but the storm inside his mind was deafening.

He took a step forward, shrugging off his cape and letting it fall onto the back of a chair. The fabric slid noiselessly to the floor, but he didn’t bother retrieving it. His boots echoed softly on the smooth stone floor as he crossed the room, every movement deliberate yet restless.

He paused near the tall windows, the view of the city below sprawling in shimmering lights. For a moment, he allowed himself to stare out at it, his sharp features etched in the pale glow of the moon. The beauty of Asgard, timeless and magnificent, failed to reach him tonight.

Instead, his mind lingered on the moment he had fled from. Her gaze, steady and unrelenting, had burned through the walls he had spent centuries perfecting. The way she had spoken to him, her tone laced with something he couldn’t quite place, had stirred something dangerous within him—something he had tried to bury beneath layers of wit and cruelty.

Loki’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He could still hear her voice, the faintest trace of challenge, or perhaps curiosity, woven through it. She had looked at him in a way that made his thoughts crumble, and for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he hadn’t hated it. No, what he hated was how much he had wanted more of it.

It made no sense. He didn’t crave closeness, didn’t long for understanding—those were weaknesses he had abandoned long ago. But this? This was different. This was something he couldn’t name, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

The tension that coiled in his chest now was almost suffocating. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his abdomen as he fought to chase the thought away. He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as if the act could dispel the intrusive images crowding his mind. He could still see her in his mind’s eye, the way her lips had curved, the way her hands had moved as she spoke. Would her hands feel as soft as they appeared? Would her lips taste as sweet as they seemed?

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, but the images only became more vivid, more intrusive. Her laughter, light and warm, played on repeat in his memory, tugging at him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages. And her touch—he could almost imagine it now, her fingers grazing his skin, her breath mingling with his. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, one he couldn’t suppress.

“Foolish,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. “Utterly foolish.”

But even as he berated himself, his body betrayed him. His pulse quickened, his breathing shallow as the ache beneath his skin grew harder to ignore. He felt her everywhere—in the warm air that wrapped around him, in the faint flicker of the lantern’s light, in the silence that hung heavy in his chambers. She wasn’t here, but it felt as though she had seeped into the very fabric of his being, her presence undeniable and inescapable.

Loki began to pace, his steps measured but restless, like a predator stalking the confines of a cage. His movements were sharp, the tension in his frame radiating with every step he took. His hands itched with the need to do something, anything, to dispel the storm inside him. They brushed against the buttons of his tunic, and with a frustrated sigh, he began unfastening them. His movements were quick and almost angry, as though shedding the layers of fabric could rid him of the thoughts that clung to his mind.

The cool air of his chambers kissed his skin as he pulled the tunic from his body, but it did little to extinguish the fire raging within. He tossed the garment aside carelessly, his breath coming faster now. His eyes darted back to the window, to the city below, but the view offered no solace. All he could see was her, all he could feel was the pull of her, and it was maddening.

Loki leaned heavily against the windowsill, his palms pressed against the cool stone as he stared out into the night. The lights of Asgard below shimmered in a haunting dance, indifferent to the turmoil within him.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though seeking some answer from the vast, indifferent universe.

The question hung in the air, unanswered, like a bitter curse, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the surge of emotions threatening to drown him. The need to control was a constant in his life, but now, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn't make sense of any of this. Why her? Why was his mind consumed by someone so... insignificant? Someone who could never understand the weight of the worlds he carried or the gods he had to contend with.

His frustration surged again, building like a pressure that had nowhere to go. He slammed his fist into the nearest table, but it wasn’t enough. The magic thrummed beneath his skin, begging for release, demanding action. And in a moment of unbridled rage, his hands flared with green energy, bright and violent, slicing through the room like a storm tearing through the air. A flash of blinding light erupted, and before he could even register what was happening, his magic shattered the nearby mirror, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor in a chaotic spray.

The sharp sound of cracking glass filled the room, and for a long moment, Loki stood frozen, chest heaving as he stared at the destruction. He had lost control. Again. The realization hit him like a wave of cold water. You’ve let it consume you. A mortal. And this is what it leads to.

A deep sigh escaped him as the weight of the situation began to sink in. He was not a man to let his emotions dictate his actions. But there it was, the undeniable truth—her effect on him was far more than it should have been. The intensity of his feelings, his desire, his frustration—they were more than he could stand. And here he was, a god, destroying things that held no real importance in the grand scheme of things.

His hands trembled, not with weakness but with the uncontrollable surge of magic. He closed his eyes, his breath shaky as he reached out with his magic again, this time not in destruction but in self-repair. With a wave of his hand, the pieces of shattered glass began to float back together, the cracks mending themselves, the mirror reassembling as if it had never been broken at all.

Once the room was quiet again, Loki stood still for a long moment, his fingers flexing as he allowed the tension to drain out of him, though it was impossible to completely erase it. The ache still gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving. His breath came out in a slow exhale as he straightened his posture, fixing the collar of his tunic and wiping the last traces of anger from his expression.

He couldn’t stay here, surrounded by the evidence of his volatile nature. I need to cool off. He needed to distance himself from the fire that raged inside him. And perhaps a bath would do that—remove the tension from his body, quell the heat that seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

With a final exasperated sigh, Loki turned toward the door, his movements purposeful, though his mind still felt like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and desires. This will pass, he thought, trying to convince himself. It’s only a fleeting distraction.

But deep down, Loki knew that she was no fleeting distraction. He had already allowed her to slip too far into his thoughts. And he hated himself for it. Yet, the ache remained, and all he could do was seek solace in the solitude of a hot bath, hoping that somehow, the water would cleanse him—if only for a moment��from the chaos she had stirred within him.

As he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the bathing room, a cool breeze greeted him, the scent of lavender and cedarwood drifting through the air, mingling with the faint scent of stone and ancient marble.

The room before him was a sanctuary, a perfect reflection of Asgardian elegance—spacious, luxurious, and imbued with a sense of tranquility that seemed to pulse from the very walls. The floor was polished white marble, veins of gold tracing through the stone like lightning trapped within, glowing faintly in the low light. Tall, arched windows lined one side, offering a view of the vast garden outside, though the curtains were drawn, leaving only the soft glow of magical lanterns to illuminate the space.

At the center of the room sat a large, circular bathing tub, crafted from gleaming obsidian stone. It was deep, large enough to engulf him entirely, a perfect retreat for someone of his status. The water within was an inviting shade of blue, shimmering with an ethereal glow that suggested it had been heated by some unseen magic, its surface smooth and still, reflecting the light above.

Loki paused for a moment in the doorway, letting the serenity of the room wash over him. The tension that had gripped him so tightly seemed to ease just slightly, though the ache in his chest remained. His thoughts swirled back to her—her eyes, her voice, the way she had looked at him. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t shake it, and it gnawed at him with every breath.

With a sharp exhale, Loki closed the door behind him and turned to face the room fully. He flicked his fingers, a subtle wave of magic rippling through the air, and the lanterns brightened, their light now casting soft pools of warmth across the marble floor. A gentle mist filled the room, adding an element of tranquility, as though the very atmosphere was designed to soothe his frazzled nerves.

His gaze moved to the mirror above a stone counter, where his reflection stared back at him, eyes intense, troubled. A god, reduced to this. His hands moved to the fastening of his tunic, slow and methodical, as though the very act of undressing held some measure of control.

Loki's movements radiated a sensual confidence, each action steeped in an intoxicating blend of precision and allure. He took his time, weaving an intimate dance with the fabric of his clothing, each piece falling to the floor like a whispered secret—soft, intentional, and laden with significance. He navigated the dimly lit room, the soft glow of flickering candles casting playful shadows that danced along the walls. He wasn’t in a rush; there was an artistry to his undressing, each piece of clothing becoming a symbol of the facade he wore, now being shed in this private sanctum.

As the fabric of his shirt slipped off his shoulders, it fell to the floor with a whisper, a soft thud against the wooden planks, almost reverent in its descent. The air was thick with a tension that mirrored the slow cadence of his movements, as though he was peeling away layers not just of cloth, but of burden. The shirt landed, joining a delicate mosaic of who he could be—each article holding memories, masks, realities.

Next came his trousers, the fabric snaking down his legs, revealing the sculpted lines of his body illuminated in the dancing candlelight. Muscles taut beneath pale skin, he moved in a way that was both sensuous and fierce, the shadows playing across his form, creating images of both beauty and danger. As the heat of the moment surged through him, he became acutely aware of his body’s response, the way his muscles tensed with anticipation, each sinew straining beneath the surface. A flicker of arousal sparked within him, causing his hardness to awaken, a subtle yet undeniable shift that added to the intoxicating energy swirling around him. He paused for a fleeting moment, taking in the reflection of his body, the duality of godhood and vulnerability coiling within him, a tension rippling just beneath the surface, a potent mix of the primal and the divine swirling together in the glow of the flickering light.

Yet, amid this heady mix of sensations, a sliver of disappointment crept in, gnawing at him like an unwelcome specter. He felt almost ashamed of his reaction, wondering how he could be so easily swayed when he prided himself on his control. It was merely the stress and the biting cold that wrapped around him, he assured himself, drawing deep and steadying breaths to dispel the tumult within.

In a final, almost reluctant motion, he let the last vestiges of his clothing fall away, relinquishing that last act of defiance. Standing there in the barely-there illumination, he felt the cool air wrap around him like a lover’s embrace, tender yet precise—inviting yet cautious. His skin prickled at the contrast, the air a stark reminder of both exposure and freedom.

With his gaze drawn to the tub—water rippling softly, steam curling sensuously into the air—he felt an anticipation unfurl within him. The promise of warmth beckoned, a siren’s call for solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Yet, there lingered in his heart a feral tug, an instinctive hesitation, a wildness that resisted the notion of surrendering to something so simple as water. It was a battle within, between the aching need for release and the primal urge to remain untamed, unsurrendered. There was a beauty in this struggle, the rawness of his being laid bare in the stillness, poised on the precipice of either yielding to warmth or holding fast to the tempest that raged just beneath his skin.

But he was a god of control, and this was necessary. Just a moment of peace.

His magic swirled around him again, a green glow radiating from his hands as he guided the water to shift, the surface rippling softly before calming once more. He wove intricate spells, adjusting the temperature, ensuring that the water was just the right warmth—neither too hot nor too cold, but perfectly comfortable, a balm for his strained muscles and his mind.

⠀

Loki’s fingers hovered just above the water, watching the gentle ripples his magic created, feeling the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. With a final, sharp flick of his wrist, the water settled into perfect stillness, the surface smooth as glass once again.

A slow, almost imperceptible sigh left his lips, and he stepped forward. His body, tense from the moment before, finally released its last vestiges of resistance as he lowered himself into the tub, the cool water meeting his skin with a comforting embrace. The water rose around him, enveloping him with its warmth, soothing the ache that had burned within him for far too long.

Loki leaned back, his head resting against the edge of the tub, eyes closed for a moment as he let the water cradle him. The tension in his shoulders, his chest, and his legs seemed to dissolve as the heat seeped into his muscles, coaxing them to relax. The water, now lapping gently at the sides of the tub, seemed to hum with its own energy, resonating with his magic.

But still, the thought of her lingered, persistent as the heat in his body. He couldn’t escape it—not even in the quiet solitude of the bath. His fingers, tracing the surface of the water, clenched for a brief moment, his nails scraping softly against the ceramic of the tub. The conflicting feelings of anger, frustration, and desire—they all bubbled within him, mixing in a stew he could neither ignore nor understand.

For now, he would let the water soothe him. But deep down, Loki knew that the tension, the ache—it was only temporarily quelled. Like the magic that swirled through his veins, the thoughts of her would return, relentless as ever.

He tried to focus on the soothing embrace of the bath, the gentle ripples caressing his skin. His breath slowed as he let the water hold him, but even then, in this sanctuary of water and solitude, the thought of her crept back into his mind.

Her face, so close to his in the cave, flashed before his eyes. The way her breath had quickened, the flicker of something more than just a shared moment of tension between them. The warmth of her body, the steady pulse beneath her skin, the way her gaze had lingered on him. The hunger, the unspoken invitation. It haunted him.

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and his hands clenched around the edge of the tub, his pulse quickening as an image of her lingered—her lips so close to his, the soft touch of her hand against his chest. The thought of her in such proximity, her scent mingling with his own, sent a shiver down his spine.

No.

The word was a bitter hiss in his mind, the sharpest of rebukes. She’s mortal, he reminded himself, though it did little to quell the heat that surged within him.

His breath grew shallow, his pulse drumming in his ears as the desire swelled, thick and unyielding. It filled his chest, squeezing, suffocating. He couldn't control it—not when all he could see, all he could feel, was her.

Loki's eyes clenched shut as the thought of her intensified. His stomach twisted with frustration, his body aching with need he had no desire to acknowledge. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let this consume him—not now, not in this moment of fragile peace.

With a sharp, exasperated breath, Loki plunged himself beneath the water, his magic swirling in the depths as he submerged his entire form, letting the cool embrace of the liquid swallow him whole. The world above disappeared, and for a moment, he was weightless, suspended in the depths of the tub.

The coldness of the water stung against his skin, sharp and refreshing, but it did nothing to wash away the images of her. They clung to him, persistent and relentless, like shadows in the depths of his mind.

Foolish.

The word echoed in his mind as he held himself underwater, his breath held tight as the world remained muffled, distorted by the pressure around him. The steady rhythm of his heart was the only sound, the only constant as he lingered in the dark stillness. Time stretched on, but he could not escape it. The ache in his chest burned, the tension in his body still there despite the cold water.

He remained submerged for what felt like an eternity, the minutes slipping away in the quiet abyss. The longer he stayed, the more he realized that the thoughts would not leave—not just like this, not with any amount of magic or water.

Reluctantly, with a slow, frustrated exhale, Loki pushed himself back to the surface, breaking through the water with a gasp, his hair plastered to his face, droplets clinging to his skin like a reminder of his defeat. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, his breath ragged as he lay there, floating in the stillness of the room.

The lingering warmth of the water against his skin did nothing to soothe the fire that still simmered inside him. As much as he tried to push it away, he could still feel the imprint of her—the way she had looked at him, the way her voice had tangled with his thoughts. And for the first time in centuries, Loki found himself unable to control the ache that pulsed through him, unable to banish the thoughts of her from his mind.

His mind began to drift again—against his will, like a tide pulling him back to the same, dangerous shore. The silence of the room felt too heavy now, too quiet, and the very stillness of the water seemed to echo with her presence. He could still feel the weight of her gaze, as though she were standing there beside him, watching him in this private moment, her eyes lingering on him in ways he couldn’t dismiss.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, but the thought of her wouldn’t fade. It surged forward, unstoppable. The way she had leaned in close to him in the cave, how her breath had ghosted over his skin. How close she had been.

Loki clenched his jaw, his muscles tightening involuntarily. He had wanted to pull her closer, to feel her body against his, to lose himself in the heat of it. The thought of it was maddening, and yet it brought an odd thrill that he couldn’t explain.

The way she had been perched so close to him—the soft heat of her breath against his neck—had made his entire body hum with something unfamiliar, something raw. And her touch... the way her fingertips had traced the contours of his skin, leaving behind a trail of fire that burned long after she had pulled away. The memory of that touch tormented him now, echoing through his mind with unbearable clarity.

His pulse quickened as a flash of that moment surged through him once more. Why couldn’t he let it go?

Without thinking, his hand reached out to the small table beside the bath, fingers brushing against a bottle of scented oil—cinnamon and citrus, a soothing blend he usually used after a long day of training. He didn’t even register what he was doing, lost in the spiral of his thoughts.

He uncapped the bottle, the faint scent of the oil filling the air, and without hesitation, he poured a small amount onto the length of his torso. The droplets were cool and soft against his skin, but as his hand moved lower, his thoughts drifted again—back to her.

Her skin... soft, delicate. How would it feel to touch her like that? To press his fingertips into her, to feel her body respond to him in ways he had only dreamed of?

The oil dripped onto his abdomen, the cool droplets traveling from the perch of his pectorals down to the navel of his hips. Loki’s eyes squeezed shut, but the memory of her touch was impossible to push away. Her touch could be like that. Her fingers, warm and slow against my skin.

A shiver ran down his spine as the cool oil continued to trickle down his abdomen. His breath hitched when the thought came unbidden, If she had done that...

He imagined her, perched on the edge of the tub just as she had been in the cave—her body so close to his, her breath mingling with his. Her fingers, trailing over his skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The thought was so vivid, so intoxicating, that he didn’t realize he was still rubbing the oil into his skin, his movements becoming more deliberate, more sensual, as if he were trying to mimic the sensation he had felt in that moment with her.

His fingers, almost without thinking, moved—mirroring the sensation in his mind, tracing a path down his own body just as he had imagined her doing. The movement was slow, deliberate as if he were trying to imitate her touch, to feel it against his own skin. His fingertips brushed lightly down the length of his torso, where the oil had left a trail that seemed to burn even in its coolness.

The more he thought about it, the more the tension inside him grew. His chest tightened, and his body, betraying him, responded to the fantasies that plagued his mind. Loki’s hand faltered for a moment, his thumb hovering near his navel as the reality of what he was doing settled over him.

What am I doing?

But the thought of her—the memory of how she had looked at him, how close she had been, how she had made him feel—was too powerful to resist. His chest heaved slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of his abdomen, the droplets of oil now warm against his skin as they mixed with the heat of his body. He was unaware that his movements had become more purposeful, as if trying to recreate the sensations of that moment, that touch, over and over again. His breath became shallow as the oil slid across his skin, and the fantasy, once small, bloomed into something more dangerous, more tangible.

His fingers pressed against the base of his navel, his thoughts spiraling further into the fantasy. He imagined her again, her hands on him, her body close—too close. It was like a fever, impossible to escape, a longing that twisted deep inside of him. The oil, cool at first, was now nothing but a reminder of that same burn, that same ache in his chest, the ache that he hadn’t asked for, that he couldn’t ignore.

Loki’s heart raced, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against the taut skin of his lower abdomen. His eyes shot open then, as if a switch had been flipped. The realization that he was doing this—falling deeper into a dream, into a desire that should not be his—hit him like a thunderclap.

“No,” he hissed, clenching his jaw tightly, the word coming out sharp and furious.

He abruptly pulled his hand away from his skin, the sudden action leaving him breathless. He quickly closed the bottle of oil, the small sound of the cap snapping into place echoing in the stillness of the room. But even as he tried to stop, to force his thoughts to turn elsewhere, his body refused to listen. The desire was still there, simmering just below the surface, igniting something deep inside him that he wasn’t prepared to face.

Loki sank back into the water, burying his face in his hands, as if trying to rid himself of the images, of the fantasies that had invaded his mind so effortlessly. But no matter how much he willed it away, no matter how much he tried to drown the thoughts with water, with cold, with magic—it was there, clawing at him, persistent and unrelenting.

The ache in his chest had not dulled, and despite his efforts to push it aside, the restless tension lingered, coiling in his gut. His body was on the edge of something he didn't want to acknowledge, and it only grew more intense the more he tried to deny it.

His eyes flickered over to the small decorative jar at the edge of the bath. Inside, delicate jasmine petals rested in an elegant arrangement, their white blossoms giving off the scent of calming sweetness. He reached for it, his fingers brushing over the petals with a gentleness that contrasted with the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed to relax. He needed something to distract him, to ground him. He closed his eyes as he sprinkled the jasmine petals into the water, watching them float gently, their fragrance filling the room.

The scent was intoxicating, subtle yet powerful, and it seemed to settle the storm in his chest, if only for a moment. He inhaled deeply, the calming effect of the jasmine wrapping around him like a soft, invisible embrace.

But even in this moment of tranquility, his mind refused to be still. The petals floated serenely on the surface of the water, their white silk-like texture reminding him of something else—someone else.

Her.

He couldn’t help it. His thoughts wandered back to her, back to the way she had looked in that cave, bathed in the dim, flickering light. The way her robe had clung to her skin, almost like a second layer, leaving little to the imagination. The soft, translucent fabric—white, like the petals—had clung to her curves in a way that made his pulse quicken. He could remember how the fabric had shimmered, catching the light as it molded to the shape of her body.

Loki's breath hitched, his gaze unfocused as the image of her lingered in his mind, vivid and undeniable. The robe, almost too delicate, seemed to shimmer like gossamer threads in the soft light, so sheer that it practically beckoned to him, enticing and inviting. He found himself frozen for a brief moment, utterly mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of her. Her silhouette was barely concealed, each curve and contour tantalizingly revealed, igniting a fire of desire deep within him that was both exhilarating and maddening.

He could still see how the fabric draped over her body, caressing her every curve, accentuating her femininity with an intimate familiarity that sent his heart racing. The translucent material clung lovingly to her skin, almost teasing him, whispering promises of warmth and intimacy beneath its sheer veil. He had almost been envious of the way it clung to her, as if the robe shared an intimate secret with her, a bond that left him yearning to touch, to discover the warmth of her flesh nestled against that delicate barrier.

The jasmine petals scattered about like whispers against the deep water only amplified the sensuality of the memory, their pure white softness echoing the ethereal glow of her robe. It seemed as though the petals mirrored those intimate moments, each delicate blossom a reflection of the way the fabric clung to her body, effortlessly sculpting her form in a dance of elegance and allure. He imagined her gliding toward him, her skin bathed in the silvery embrace of moonlight, each step orchestrating a balletic shift of the fabric that clung seductively to her, igniting every sense within him.

Loki’s fingers tightened against the edge of the tub, the cool stone under his grip grounding him in the heat of the moment. The pull of his desire was intoxicating, an unquenchable thirst he could feel consuming him. He could almost feel the weight of her presence beside him, the heady warmth of her, the intoxicating scent of her essence wrapping around him like a fragrant embrace. He could hear the soft rustle of her robe brushing against her skin, each sound a silky promise, hear the delicate rhythm of her breathing—soft, steady, a symphony of desire that drew him in deeper.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of her to disappear. But instead, it grew stronger, more vivid. He imagined reaching out, brushing the fabric of her robe with his fingers, feeling its softness, feeling the warmth of her skin just beneath it. He imagined reaching out, the tips of his fingers grazing the fabric of her robe, feeling its divine softness beneath his touch, the warmth of her skin simmering just beneath it. He envisioned how it would feel to press himself closer, to let his lips trail along the graceful curve of her neck, to slip beneath that fragile seam, where fabric and flesh met, to taste the sweetness that awaited him—his body aching with the promise of connection, longing to bridge the distance that separated them. To raise her out of that damned pool and let the thin fabric slide off on the stone, to—

Loki’s breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly felt a sharp, urgent pressure building within him. With a frustrated growl, he plunged his hand into the water, scattering the jasmine petals as his fingers clawed at the surface in an attempt to break the chain of thoughts that had consumed him. But it was no use. The image of her lingered, relentless.

“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes burning with frustration as he tried to steady his breathing. The jasmine scent, now stronger than before, filled his senses, but it only seemed to heighten the memory of her. He could almost feel her there with him, her soft skin, the way the fabric of her robe had clung to her body most invitingly.

Loki forced himself to close his eyes again, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the image of her, the memory of that translucent robe, haunted him. The petals, the scent, the softness—it all became intertwined with his hunger. He could still feel her fingers trailing over his skin, the heat of her body against his.

His body trembled with desire as he succumbed to the memories and fantasies that had been consuming him. He could no longer deny himself the pleasure that he so desperately craved.

With a low groan, he allowed his hand to wander back down his abdomen, feeling the defined muscles ripple beneath his fingers. His other hand was still clenched in the water, sending jasmine petals drifting to the surface. He trailed his fingers lower and lower, feeling the heat emanating from his body.

He closed his eyes, imagining her hands on him instead, her digits tracing patterns over his skin. With a sharp intake of breath, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, feeling the soft trimmed hairs on his lower abdomen.

Loki's breathing grew ragged as he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, his mind filled with newfound scenes of him, of her, of them together.

⠀

He saw him entering a temple with quiet confidence, his footsteps reverberating against the cold stone walls as he moved toward the inner sanctum. His attire was nothing short of magnificent: garments woven with iridescent threads, shifting in color with every step, embodying the very essence of his trickster nature. His cloak, a masterpiece of fine silk, cascaded gracefully around him, embroidered with intricate patterns and symbols that spoke to his divine status.

As he crossed the threshold, his gaze was drawn to her—[Y/N]. She sat within a large stone basin, the water steaming gently around her, its surface dotted with fragrant petals that seemed to float in harmony with the light that filtered through the stained-glass windows. The sight of her struck him like a physical blow; she was even more captivating than he had envisioned.

Her infamous robe still clung to her like a second skin, damp from the water, accentuating the delicate curves of her body. The radiant Wyrmscale artifact resting against her neck like would a collar glowed with soft golden light, its power pulsing through the room, almost as if in tune with her very being. Her long, damp hair was swept back, revealing the delicate lines of her face, and her eyes—those eyes—met his with a mixture of trepidation and something far more potent: desire.

He circled the tub slowly, his gaze never leaving her. Each step was measured, deliberate, his mind consumed by the sight of her—her beauty, her vulnerability, her submission. His pulse quickened, a quiet flutter deep within his chest that echoed through his veins. The heat of the room wrapped around them both, intensifying the weight of the moment, but still, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her. She was a vision—an offering he couldn’t resist.

“I've seen you in many visions,” Loki’s voice was low, almost a purr as he spoke, his words laced with something darker, more thrilling. “I’ve spent nights wondering what it would feel like to have you here. To see you like this—vulnerable, willing to give everything, your body and your soul laid bare. And now... here you are, offering yourself so freely, so openly. Tell me, priestess, are you sure you understand what this means?”

His fingers brushed her collarbone, the lightest touch, but it felt as though it was searing her skin. The warmth of her skin under the damp fabric sent a jolt through him, stirring something primal deep inside. His breath caught as he trailed a finger down the curve of her neck, feeling the soft pulse beneath her skin, steady and inviting. She was trembling just slightly—whether from fear or desire, he couldn’t be sure. But it only made the air between them more charged, more delicious.

She met his gaze, the challenge in her eyes unmistakable, even as her fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the tub. “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice steady but with an underlying edge, “But I’m sure you’ll be eager to show me.”

Loki’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with both amusement and something far more dangerous. “Such confidence. But you know as well as I do, the gods take no mercy when they’re pleased,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he leaned in closer. “When I fuck you, it will be more than a mere battle of wills. It will be your surrender, your desire, your need that I feed. And when it’s all over, you’ll know exactly who owns you.”

Her breath hitched as his words sank in. The weight of them, the intensity of his gaze—it felt like she was standing on the edge of something profound, something that could consume her entirely. But somehow, a part of her wanted it. A part of her wanted to give in to him, to the promise of pleasure and power he dangled before her like an impossible temptation.

Loki pulled back slightly, his finger resting on her chin, lifting her gaze back to his. He gazed deeply into her enchanting orbs and lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “I’m certain you’ve imagined it, priestess. But the difference is that I make your fantasies real. What I offer you is beyond anything you could possibly have dreamt. Tell me, are you ready to be taken, to be claimed—body and soul?”

Her body tensed, but her gaze never wavered from his. “We’ll see, won’t we? Then I’ll simply make sure it’s not you who has the final say.” The defiance lingered in her voice, soft yet insistent, despite the way her breath betrayed her.

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile widening as he stepped back, eyes alight with an undeniable hunger. “You think you have control in this game? You’ve already surrendered more than you realize.”

He ran his finger along her chin, tilting her head back slightly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “It’s time for you to do your due diligence.”

A shiver of excitement ran down [Y/N]’s spine as Loki rose from his crouched position, striding with almost sensual slowness to his dedicated altar on which he took place. The sight of him, poised and confident, filled her with an intoxicating mix of desire and fear, emotions that tangled together in a heady rush. His dark eyes never left her, and she could feel the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing, burning into her skin. Her breath hitched as he ascended, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room, the shadows falling just right to highlight the chiseled perfection of his form.

The air between them thickened with vibrating tension, as if the very space they occupied pulsed with the energy of their closeness. Her pulse quickened in her neck, her heartbeat erratic, and the anticipation settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. She could feel his power—dark and alluring—drawing her toward him, a magnetic pull she couldn’t escape. She was trembling, her skin sensitive under the damp fabric of her robe, which clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating the curves of her breasts and hips. Every inch of her seemed to be on fire as her body responded to his presence, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through her veins.

Loki’s voice sliced through the air, a low, beckoning command. “Come along, priestess. Join me.”

His words were soft yet laced with an unmistakable power, a challenge, an invitation, and something darker—a promise. The tension between them grew almost unbearable, and [Y/N], despite the trepidation swirling in her gut, found herself obeying, rising from the water as though compelled by some unseen force. Her body was stiff with both reluctance and yearning, her knees weak as she took her first step toward him. Her skin, slick with water, glistened under the light, and the weight of the robe clinging to her only heightened the sensitivity of every nerve in her body. Each movement felt slower, more deliberate, as she crossed the distance between them, her every step trembling.

Loki watched her intently, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flash of something dark crossing his features, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around her. “Come closer. Show me that you can follow through, priestess.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought to steady herself as she made her way toward the altar. Her legs felt like they might give way under the weight of his gaze, but she continued forward, each step echoing her growing need, her pulse racing as she neared him. Her hands, trembling slightly, reached out instinctively, grasping the cold stone of the altar’s edge for support.

Standing before him now, she felt small, fragile even, in contrast to his towering presence. Loki’s eyes roamed over her, their gaze calculating yet filled with an unmistakable hunger. The intensity of his stare made her feel exposed, as if he were unraveling her very soul with nothing but a look.

"You’re trembling," he said, his voice a whisper, yet every word felt like a brand against her skin. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her trembling hand where it rested on the altar. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat racing through her body, an electrifying sensation that made her want to both pull away and draw him closer.

"I can feel it," he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "You’re not as composed as you’d like to pretend. But do not worry, I’ll teach you how to surrender."

Loki’s smile deepened, an expression of quiet satisfaction that made her heart race. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, as his hands moved to undo the golden tie of her robe, fingers brushing the fabric slowly, deliberately. “Come worship your god.”

The anticipation was unbearable now, every motion seeming to stretch time, prolonging the moment between them as he loosened the knot. The robe, heavy with water, fell slightly from her body, revealing more of her curves, the soft, enticing shape of her figure exposed to his hungry gaze.

[Y/N]’s breath quickened, her body trembling with anticipation, but she did not pull away. Instead, she stood still, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, waiting for him to make the next move. There was a strange mix of defiance and longing in her eyes, the embers of resistance still glowing, but she couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to him—compelled by something darker, something she couldn’t name, and that terrified her more than anything else.

She felt his presence wash over her like a tidal wave, filling her senses and drowning out any other thoughts. She was trembling, not just from fear, but from something deeper—something she couldn’t control. And with every passing second, she realized that she had already given herself to him, even if she hadn’t fully admitted it yet.

Loki's fingers traced the curves of [Y/N]'s hips, the delicate touch sending a shiver of anticipation through her. She couldn't help but react to his every movement, her body trembling under his touch, as though every inch of her skin was attuned to him. His presence enveloped her, warm and overwhelming, stirring emotions she was both eager and afraid to face.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck, tasting the remnants of the water that clung to her. The sensation of his lips, warm and demanding, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. [Y/N]’s breath hitched, the tension in her body rising as his hands roamed upward, gently parting the collar of her wet robe, exposing the smoothness of her shoulder. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her shoulder blades, making her shiver as a thrill of sensation coursed through her.

His lips followed the path of his hands, soft at first, exploring the skin of her shoulders with slow, languorous kisses. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the sensation of his hands on her skin, made her lightheaded with want. She tilted her head back instinctively, surrendering to the sensation, offering him more of her neck, and Loki took full advantage of the invitation. His tongue traced a path up to her ear, the action sending a tremor through her as a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Loki’s breath was hot against her skin, his voice a low murmur in her ear. “You can feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, his hands moving down her arms in teasing strokes, the light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His fingertips skimmed over her skin as though savoring every inch of her, his touch light yet laden with intent.

[Y/N]’s pulse raced, her body betraying her, drawn to him in ways she couldn’t fully understand. She swallowed, trying to steady herself, but the tension between them was palpable, thickening the air with every passing moment.“Please,” she murmured, her voice shaking, the defiance still lingering within her even as her body reacted to him. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the strength in his frame pressing against hers, but it was the hunger in his kiss, the way he seized her lips as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, that set her completely aflame.

His mouth was urgent, claiming, and yet his hands remained gentle, pulling her closer, as if he were testing the boundaries between them. His lips moved against hers with a growing intensity, a hunger she couldn’t ignore. [Y/N]’s hands now timidly fisted the front of his tunic, pressing her body more firmly against his. Her heart beat erratically, a rhythm of need and desire she was now powerless to deny.

Loki’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and for a moment, everything around them faded away. There was only the feel of him—his warmth, his presence, the taste of his kiss—and the undeniable pull between them that neither could escape. [Y/N]’s breath came in quick gasps, her lips parting as she tried to steady herself, but there was no stopping it now. Not when Loki’s touch was like fire on her skin, lighting every nerve ablaze.

Loki’s fingers traced every curve of [Y/N]’s body with a gentle yet possessive touch, as if memorizing the feel of her beneath his hands. His fingers skimmed across her waist, sending waves of sensation through her, before slowly traveling down to her hips. His touch was deliberate, his skin leaving a trail of fire where it met hers. The sensation was intoxicating, and [Y/N]’s breath caught in her throat as she fought to keep control, but each brush of his hand made it more difficult to resist. Her body seemed to respond of its own accord, her pulse quickening, her skin flush with anticipation.

She couldn’t help but tremble under his touch as his hands ventured lower, tracing the outline of her thighs, fingers grazing over the soft skin, sparking a flood of warmth that radiated out from her core. With each slow movement, each teasing caress, she felt as if she were being pulled deeper into him, her body writhing, arching under the pressure of his touch, desperate for more.

Loki’s voice was low and husky as he broke their kiss, his hand wrapped around her throat and his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Now, I want you to undress me. Slowly, deliberately, as if every touch is a prayer made to my body.”

[Y/N]'s heart skipped a beat at his words, her breath hitching in her throat as she nodded, her hands trembling with anticipation. She reached up, her fingers finding the hem of his tunic, and slowly began to lift it, exposing his toned abs and muscular chest. Her eyes traced every inch of his skin, taking in the defined lines of his muscles, and the smattering of dark hair that peaked out of his Apollo’s belt.

Loki’s voice was smooth and laced with arrogance as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You should consider yourself fortunate, priestess,” he whispered, his tone dripping with confidence. “Not many are allowed to touch a god like me. So take your time. Let every movement be a tribute to what stands before you.”

[Y/N] felt a surge of boldness and desire as Loki's words of encouragement caressed her ears. Emboldened, her delicate hands slowly slid up the length of his tunic, inching it upwards to reveal more and more of his godly physique inch by tantalizing inch. His skin was unveiled to her hungry gaze—she could feel the heat that radiated from his very being, his muscles rippling and tensing beneath her fingertips like coiled steel as they glided across the expanse of his abdominal muscles.

Her tongue explored his heated throat as she pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, taking her time to thoroughly savor the taste of his skin. Her lips moved lower, trailing over his defined collarbone until she reached the hollow at the base of his throat. There, she let her teeth graze the sensitive flesh before soothing the sting with a slow, firm lick.

Loki's breath caught in his throat, a ragged hitch that spoke of barely contained longing. His emerald eyes blazed with smoldering desire as they roamed hungrily over [Y/N]'s form, drinking in every dip and curve of her body. Reaching up with a hand that trembled with need, his fingers tangled in her silken tresses, the cool strands slipping through his grasp. Tilting his head back in wanton surrender, he exposed the smooth column of his throat to her questing mouth.

"Yes," he rumbled, his voice a deep, throbbing growl that sent delicious shivers cascading down her spine. The velvet timbre of his words caressed her heated skin like a physical touch, stoking the flames of her desire higher. "Just like that."

His tone dripped with sin and dark promise, full of tempting subtext that left little room for misinterpretation. Loki's voice painted sinful pictures in her mind, hinting at secrets and pleasures only he could provide. Each low, raw word fell from his lips like a forbidden confession, igniting her blood until it burned through her veins.

[Y/N]'s heart pounded wildly, her breath coming fast and shallow as she leaned into the delicious friction of his fingers in her hair. The light pressure at the back of her skull sent sparks skittering across her scalp and down her nape. Loki's grip held her in place, keeping her mouth pressed to the supple skin of his throat where his pulse fluttered like the wings of a caged bird. The heat of him seeped into her, his quickening heartbeat a counterpoint to her racing rhythm.

He imagined her lips brushing against the corded muscles of his neck, feeling the coiled tension thrumming through his body like a tightly wound spring. As her phantom touch grazed his skin, he found himself arching instinctively into the sensation, craving more of that teasing contact. His thick throat flexed and undulated beneath her mouth as he swallowed hard around the lump that had formed there, fighting to control the intense reaction coursing through him.

Loki's gasps would encourage her to continue her sensual exploration. He felt her apply light suction, pulling at his skin until she felt his pulse jumping beneath her lips. Reluctant to release him, she transferred her ministrations to the opposite side of his throat. This time, she used her teeth more insistently, worrying the flesh and nipping at his hammering pulse until she could taste the coppery tang of blood on her tongue as it beaded on his skin.

He could practically feel the heat of her breath as she traced the strong column of his neck with her lips and tongue, igniting sparks of sensation with every pass. His skin prickled with goosebumps, drawn taut and hypersensitive, as if her imagined touch had burned away every layer between them until only nerve endings remained. He strained towards the pressure of her mouth, blatant in his need for stimulation, his body an instrument thrumming with tension.

Again and again, she returned to the spot, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and teasing licks and nips until his neck was mapped with darkening love bites. Each mark was a brand, a symbol of her possession, the evidence of her claim on him. She loved seeing the proof of her wanton lust decorating his fair skin.

Releasing her mouth from his throat with a wet pop, she admired her handiwork, trailing her fingers over the tender, reddened flesh. Loki's hands had found her hair, tangling in the silken strands as he held her close. His breaths were shallow, chest heaving with the force of his exhalations. The visible strain of his erection pressed against her belly but she ignored it for now, lost in her need to taste every inch of him.

In a frenzy of lustful desperation, [Y/N] wrenched Loki's tunic up and over his head with an almost violent urgency. The flimsy garment was hastily cast aside, fluttered forgotten to the floor as her hungry gaze raked over the newly bared expanse of Loki's sleek, pale skin. She drank in the sight of him with fevered eyes that glittered with unslaked craving, her pupils blown wide with desire.

The air between them felt charged and taut, thick with the promise of what was to come. It crackled with an electric tension that made the very skin prickle, so dense with want that it seemed to pulse and undulate like a living thing. The space seemed to swell, heavy and swollen with the weight of their unspeakable needs.

[Y/N] began a worshipful descent down the sculpted planes of Loki's torso. She laved her tongue over his cool skin, tracing the elegant sweep of his collarbones and the dip of his sternum. Her lips brushed feather-light over the flat discs of his nipples, drawing a shuddering hiss from between clenched teeth as she suckled and nibbled, determined to wring as much pleasure and praise from him as she could. Her teeth scraped carelessly, leaving crimson blooms on his skin like stigmata.

Loki shivered and flared, his powerful frame surging beneath her ministrations. His fingers clenched in her hair, dragging her inexorably up and molding her curves meltingly flush against the hard, unforgiving lines of his body. Loki's gaze burned into her own, twin flames of liquid emerald fire that seared straight to her soul. "The pants," he commanded, his voice a rough, guttural sound edged with feral hunger. The raw command in his tone sent primal heat licking through her core, urging her onward even as it threatened to undo her utterly.

[Y/N]'s trembling fingers fumbled at the waistband of his breeches, clumsy with desperation. She wanted to tear them from his body, to lay him bare before her, but some distant scrap of coherence kept her movements measured. The air felt too thick to draw a proper breath, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter in her blood until it was almost painful.

Finally, blessedly, his breeches joined his tunic on the floor. [Y/N] hummed in satisfaction, drinking in the sight of him laid out before her in all his naked glory. She reached out to trail reverent fingers down the dips and ridges of his abdomen, savoring the way he shuddered and tensed beneath her touch. But she was only allowed a brief moment to admire him before Loki was surging up to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss.

As he broke their deep, passionate kiss, his piercing gaze locked onto hers, smoldering with an intense, almost feral hunger. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his lips as he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice dropping to a low, dark purr.

"Go on, priestess," he rasped, the words dripping with a sinful promise that sent shivers down her spine. "Take what is yours to worship and claim as your own."

She gulped for air, her lungs burning, fervently nodding as much as she could with the firm grip he still maintained in her hair. A needy whimper escaped her parted lips, her body yearning for more of his electric touch.

She redoubled her descent down his chiseled body, pressing small, reverent kisses along the way. Her lips mapped a winding path over the planes of his chest, down his taut stomach, savoring the taste of his skin, the heat of him. Reaching his navel, she dipped her tongue inside, circling the sensitive dip teasingly, drawing a groan from the god and his grip tightened, spurring her on.

Finally, she arrived at the apex of his thighs, where his long, hard and imposing member jutted proudly towards her. Its thick length seemed to throb, begging for her worshipful attention. The woman knelt before him, gazing up at him with hooded eyes clouded by lust and a hint of trepidation.

As he sat there, watching her crafted image intently with anticipation, she hesitated for a moment. She could feel his gaze on her, and she knew what he wanted. Gathering her courage, she slowly reached out a trembling hand towards him. Her fingers inched closer to the hard, rigid length of his cock, and as she made contact, she felt a shiver run through her entire body. The feel of him was intoxicating - hard yet silky smooth, just like the rest of his toned body.

He couldn't help but let out a low groan as she touched him—as he imitated her touch. His hand moved unconsciously to wrap around his member, mirroring her movements. She would watch in fascination as he began to stroke himself, and she wouldn't help but feel a sense of power and arousal at the divine sight that he displayed.

She’d marvel at the feel of him, so different from anything she had ever experienced before. Her fingers looked so meager he doubted they would quite close around his girth. He imagined her feeling even more turned on by the contrast between her delicate hand and his thick, hard cock like he was to the idea.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky with desire.

She nodded, unable to find her voice at that moment. She couldn't believe she was doing this, touching him like this, but she couldn't deny how much she was enjoying it.

"Good," he murmured, his eyes darkening with lust. "Because I relish the way your touch sets me alight," he murmured, his voice velvet-soft yet edged with longing, as if the confession itself was both a gift and a weapon.

Fingertips danced along his length, tracing the prominent vein that ran along the underside—he didn’t know if it was her phantom touch, or his very real one, he didn’t care for it. He’d pretend that it was hers for now, that he could trade the feeling of the rough palms of his hand for her soft ones.

She watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in quick gasps as she touched him. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his muscles tensed under her touch. She circled the base, marveling at the size and the heat it emanated from his member. A bead of clear liquid welled from the slit, making his erection jump. Softly, reverently, she swiped her thumb over the tip, smearing the precum and eliciting a strangled groan from above.

Then, another flash: slowly, almost shyly, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his inner thigh, right at the root of his shaft. Her lips trailed up the sensitive skin, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses in their wake. A faint whimper escaped her as she tasted him, the salt, musk, and pure masculine essence of his arousal thick and heady.

He hissed in pleasure, his fingers tightening in her hair as he pulled her closer. She flicked her tongue over the weeping slit, lapping up the salty essence. Another kiss was placed right at the crown before she started to slowly circle the flared head with the flat of her tongue. She took her time, mapping every ridge and vein, savoring the taste of him on her tongue.

But he wouldn’t let the exploration go on any longer, else he’d go mad beyond reason with want. The massive hand gripping her silky damp tresses gave a sharp tug, wrenching [Y/N]'s head back and forcing her face upwards. She let out a yelp at the sudden motion, eyes widening in fear and surprise darting up to meet the smoldering gaze pinning her in place. A deep growl emanated from above, the sound resonating in her very bones and sending sparks of trepidation skittering down her spine.

Above her, his imposing form loomed, all chiseled planes and rippling muscle. Sweat gleamed on his alabaster skin which heaved with each labored breath. Heavy thighs bracketed her smaller frame as he towered over her kneeling form, his commanding presence seeming to fill the very air around them.

Drawing in a shuddering gasp, [Y/N] tried to give a jerky nod of acquiescence, her delicate throat working nervously under his stern glare. His calloused palm dragged from the silken coil of her hair to seize her chin, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate curve of her jaw as he forced her gaze upward.

"Enough games," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp steeped in authority and promise. A flicker of fear danced along her spine, sharp and electric, under the weight of his piercing glare. "Open," he commanded, the single word carrying the weight of inevitability.

She could only whimper in response, breaths coming in short, precipitated puffs as his other hand guided the thick root of his cock to nudge demandingly at her parted lips. With a final, shallow inhale, [Y/N] let her jaw fall slack, allowing the heavy weight to rest against her waiting mouth. He slowly thrust forward, pushing into the velvet heat past her lips and over her tongue. She could feel every rigid vein, every throb of his width stretching her open as inch by delicious inch sank into the clutching confines of her mouth and throat.

Tears sprang anew to her eyes at the sudden intrusion, but she held his gaze, giving a tentative suck as he hilted fully. The wet glide of her tongue traced over the bulbing head, dipping into the weeping slit to lap at the salty-sweet essence gathered there. Above her, she could hear the hitch in his breathing, feel the air between them crackle with building anticipation.

Slowly, he began to rock his hips, sawing in and out with deep but shallow thrusts as he mentally fucked into her face as he did to his enclosed fist. Her lips worked over his length, hollowing her cheeks to suck harder as she brought one small hand up to gently fondle the heavy orbs below. [Y/N] breathed harshly through her nose, tongue fluttering along the underside as he thrust between her lips.

"Norns' mercy," Loki gasped, his head falling back on a low, wanton moan that echoed through the chambers. "Your mouth is exquisite, a divine temple of pleasure."

Emboldened by his praise, she began to bob her head along his impressive length, hollowing her cheeks to suck hard as she took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of her throat. One hand gently lightly scrapped her nails at the navel, teasing the sensitive skin.

Losing herself in the act of pleasuring him, she consumed herself in carnal desires that threatened to overwhelm her. She loved tasting him, feeling the hot, hard weight of him sliding between her lips, stretching her mouth. His musky, masculine scent filled her nostrils, making her head spin with lust.

Loki's grip on her hair tightened, fingers tangling and tugging as he began to speed up his thrust into the heat of her mouth, not enough to gag her, but just enough to show he was rapidly losing control. "Just like that, priestess, don't you dare stop," he growled, his voice strained with need. "You look so lovely with your lips wrapped around my cock, worshipping me like the god I am. Such a good girl, so eager to please."

His filthy words inflamed her lust to new, dizzying heights. She redoubled her efforts, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him, throat working to milk his length. He let out a string of filthy curses in the Old Tongue, hips snapping as he chased his impending release, fucking her face with shallow thrusts.

But just as she felt him start to pulse and swell, he forcefully pulled himself from the slick heat of her mouth with a lewd pop. He pictured strings of saliva connected from her swollen lips to the engorged head of his cock as he squeezed the base hard enough to prevent him from cumming so soon. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Too soon.

He could almost hear [Y/N] whine at the loss as she gazed up at Loki through heavy-lidded eyes, her plump lips glistening and swollen from his earlier bruising kisses. He imagined her enticing face flushed with pride and deep feminine satisfaction knowing she had thoroughly pleased her god, his divine favor a heady rush of power and approval. Loki's eyes gleamed molten green, his expression one of ravenous, possessive hunger as his heated gaze roved over her naked form kneeling wantonly at his feet.

"Well done, priestess," he’d purr to her, voice a dark, sinful promise. "You've more than earned your reward. I'm going to taste every exquisite inch of you until you're writhing and begging for completion."

Loki prowled forward like a wolf, his powerful body looming over her in dark promise. Calloused fingers trailed scorching paths along her quivering sides and thighs, leaving shimmering trails of magic in their wake. She shivered and arched into his expert touch, dizzy with need.

"Please, my god," she breathed. "I'm aching for you. Make me yours."Loki's fingers trailed down her forearm, gripping [Y/N]'s hand and pulling her up. He pushed her down onto the marble of his altar in a smooth show of strength, admiring the way her breasts bounced from the force. Settling between her splayed thighs, the god inhaled her heady, musky scent. "So desperate for your god's favor," he growled, pressing hungry kisses up the column of her throat. "I'm going to make you scream my name."

With a wicked grin, he turns to her, his eyes gleaming with desire. "May I?" he asks, indicating the delicate fabric of her robe. At her nod, he rips the flimsy material to shreds, exposing her naked body to his feasting gaze. Loki's gaze lands on a part of untainted skin, and he wastes no time, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. She can't help but gasp at the sensation, her body reacting instinctively.

He continued his path of destruction down her body, licking and nipping every inch of bare skin. Reaching pert breasts, he caught a nipple between his teeth and tugged just shy of pain, to which she answered by unconsciously spreading her legs in wanton invitation, practically begging for his touch.

"Oh, my sweet [Y/N], so desperate and needy for me," he hummed, trailing his fingers down her arm. His touch was cold fire, leaving goosebumps trailing in its wake. Loki's lips curled into a wicked smirk, his voice a silky taunt as he leaned closer. "How utterly delightful. Let us see if you can endure as well as you deliver, shall we?"

He descended upon her like a starving man, licking and sucking at every inch of her damp skin. His lips and teeth marked her with dark bruise shaped like crescent moons and love bites as he made his way down her body. She writhed and moaned helplessly beneath him, her back arching as he teased her sensitive flesh.

"Mmh, perfect. Sing for me," he growls against her hipbone before dipping his head between her thighs.

He could almost feel her taste on his tongue as he imagined himself licking a broad stripe up her dripping slit, making use his skillful appendage by circling her aching clit without directly touching it. He brought two fingers to his lips as he pictured them parting her folds to delve deep, pumping in and out of her fluttering walls while he laps at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His head rung at the idea of her thighs trembling and clenching around his head as he devoured her mercilessly, his silvertongue more than living up to its title.

"Such exquisite nectar you have, my priestess," he’d mumble into her sex, the vibrations making her see stars. He suckled her clit and thrust two fingers knuckle deep, curling them to rub that special spot inside. "I could feast on you on my altar for ages and never have my fill."

[Y/N] tossed her head back with a loud moan as Loki's skilled mouth worked her over. "Yes, god, just like that!"

He sealed his lips around her throbbing clit, suckling the sensitive bud while his wicked tongue flicked rapidly. Two fingers delved deep, curling just right to stroke that velvety patch along her front wall. "That's it, let me hear all those pretty moans while you fall apart on my face," he urged huskily, hot breath gusting over her drenched folds.

Leaning on her elbows, she gazed down at him with glassy eyes, desperate little pants falling from her lips. Her thighs trembled violently, muscles pulled taut. "Please, please," she babbled incoherently, fisting his inky locks and yanking him impossibly closer. "I need—oh!"

"Need what, pet?" His lips and tongue never ceased their sweet torment, fingers plunging and stroking without mercy. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

"I need—ah! I need to come!" Tremors wracked her frame as she ground herself wantonly on his face. "Make me come, please Loki!"

"What pretty begging." He doubled down, sucking her clit greedily as she bucked and thrashed. Lips and fingers worked her into a frenzy, wringing out her pleasure with devastating intent. Pressure climbed, tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

[Y/N] threw back her head with a choked scream, core clamping down rhythmically. "I'm coming, mmh—fuck!" Her back arched sharply, juices gushing to coat his cheeks and chin as ecstasy overtook her.

His hips moved upwards as he imagined the expression she would make when reaching climax, writhing in the water as he desperately tried to hold back, not ready for the end just yet. The ripples of the water surrounding him served as a reminder of the feeling of being blessed with her sweet release, droplets splashing onto his face.

With a final thrust, he slowed down, gasping uncontrollably. He gentled his touch, mimicking how he would with her, licking broad and slow to keep her suspended in bliss. "That's it, that’s it. Ride it out on my tongue. You taste divine when you let go."

He knew all too well the effect he had on her; even their casual, teasing banter left her unraveling. His words and actions now, deliberate and charged, were designed to push her to the brink—to drive her wild in ways only he could. He made a low, hungry noise, never stopping until the last aftershock shivered through her.

"Good girl, you took it so well. Such a pretty picture you make in your pleasure," he praises, giving your sensitive clit a final kiss before rising to cover your body with his own. "You please me greatly, my priestess. I knew you'd be the perfect consort."

He couldn’t endure the torment he was inflicting upon himself any longer; it was unbearable, a relentless ache that clawed at his sanity. He had to put an end to it—one way or another. Loki's lips curved in a wicked smirk as he visualized him pulling back to admire his artwork, hands gripping [Y/N]'s hips possessively.

"Turn over," he’d command, voice rough with need. [Y/N] scrambled to obey, rolling onto her stomach and lifting her hips in the air. The position left her completely vulnerable, her dripping core exposed and ready. Loki groaned at the sight, his cock throbbing. "Hands behind your back," he growled, giving her rear a sharp smack.

[Y/N] gasped and complied, crossing her forearms at the base of her spine. Loki manhandled her, using his strength to pull her arms higher until they were pinned tight against her back. He nestled her chest down against the altar, leaving her arched and spread open. "Such a good little offering," he purred, running a hand over her naked form. His fingers dug into her hips as he notched the flared head of his cock against her entrance.

"I will ravish you to the point of forgetting everything but my name." Loki declared with a salacious smirk. His eyes gleamed with determination as he charged forward, impaling [Y/N] with a single, ruthless thrust. The force of his entry elicited a startled cry from [Y/N], her back arching as Loki filled her to the hilt. The exquisite stretch of his length was unprecedented, breaching depths no other had ever reached.

"There we go," he praised, starting to move. His strokes were deep and powerful, pulling nearly out before slamming back in. "Take it. Take every ounce of pleasure your god deigns to bestow upon you." [Y/N] sobbed brokenly, overwhelmed by the sensations. The altar bit into her breasts as Loki used her, pounding into her pliant body. Lewd squelches filled the air, mixing with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Just when [Y/N] thought she couldn't take anymore, Loki hauled her up by her restrained arms. He dropped his free hand to her throat, squeezing lightly. "Look at you," he crooned, fingers toying with her nipples. "A perfect little slut, born to be bred and used. You relish this, don't you? The sensation of being utterly filled and ravished by your god?" [Y/N] had no choice but to nod, his words igniting something primal in her. Loki's hand tightened around her neck, restricting her airflow. Simultaneously, his thrusts grew fiercer, pummeling her with relentless intensity.

"You were made for this, pet. Made to serve. I will ruin you for all others. You will adore only me, and my name will be your mantra." He accentuated each word with punishing thrusts.

[Y/N] convulsed, his degrading words and ruthless pace pushing her to the brink. Her cunt clenched desperately around him, trying to hold him deep. She was so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. All it would take was a slight pressure in the right place and she would shatter completely.

Sensing her readiness, Loki slid a hand down, zeroing in on her swollen clit. He circled the sensitive nub with a knowing touch, keeping her on the cusp of release. "Come for me, priestess" he ordered with a gasp, voice a sinful purr. "Come apart on my cock, my little whore. Let me feel your pleasure."

[Y/N] had no choice but to obey, her body seizing up as her climax crashed through her. She came with a guttering scream, cunt clenching down on Loki's pistoning cock.

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As he allowed his mind to wander, lost in the picture of her falling in the throes of ecstasy, his eyes flew open with a start. He hadn’t realized how deeply he had slipped into it until he felt a sudden jolt back to reality. His hips were moving rhythmically, thrusting as if he were actually buried deep inside of her.

His breath came in gasps, the air stolen from his throat as he imagined the feeling of her tight walls clenching around him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His hips were gyrating wildly, thrusting up and down in his grasp, like a ship caught in a stormy sea. How deep had he been lost in his fantasy for his state to go unnoticed, even to himself?

The pleasure was all-consuming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to drown him in its depths. His blood rushed through his veins like a raging river, surging downward to pool in his aching cock and upwards to flood his face with a burning heat. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unbidden and fierce, as he gasped and writhed for oxygen, his thrusts growing wilder and more desperate with each passing moment.

With a final, desperate cry, he came violently in his hands, shouting his muse’s name in a frenzied manner. Spurt after spurt of his release shot forth, hitting the water with a soft plink and splattering the few jasmine petals that had survived the violent waves. It seemed as if the pleasure would never end, each wave of release only serving to build the tension higher and higher until it threatened to consume him entirely.

But eventually, the storm subsided, leaving him spent and shivering in its wake. He lay there, his breath slowing as he came back down to reason. The fantasy had been so vivid, so real, that it took him a moment to remember where he truly was. The sensation was intense, a violent explosion that seemed to rock his entire body.

Loki collapsed against the smooth, cold marble steps of the grand tub, his body spent, a haze of exhaustion clouding his senses. His breath was ragged, still trying to catch up with the frantic, overwhelming rush that had just passed through him. For a moment, he was weightless, floating on the remnants of the high he had just experienced, the delicate hum of release thrumming under his skin. The contrast of the warm water around him and the cold air against his exposed skin sent shivers racing up his spine, but it was not the chill that made him tremble.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head tipping back to rest against the edge of the tub. The silence in the chamber felt deafening after the storm that had ravaged through him. The heat of the moment still lingered, but now, it felt oppressive. He was left with a deep, gnawing emptiness, as though a part of him had been drained away with the surge of release. But that empty feeling was nothing compared to what came next.

As the haze in his mind began to clear, the aftermath of his actions came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. For a brief second, he felt like the room was spinning, his body still reeling from the aftershocks of the desire he had just indulged. His chest tightened, a knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t just given in to the pleasure of the moment. No, that would’ve been easier to accept. What had really shaken him was who—or rather, what—he had let himself desire.

He dragged a trembling hand through his damp hair, his lips pressed into a hard line as the remnants of his thoughts taunted him. A mortal, really? The thought of her—so mortal, so beneath him—made him feel physically sick. His heart pounded in his chest, but not from desire this time. The heat in his veins was no longer a heady rush; it had morphed into something darker, something that made him feel dirty. He had let himself be ruled by a fleeting impulse, a mortal who—by all rights—shouldn’t have mattered to him. She wasn’t worthy of his attention, let alone the attention of his body. And yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way her presence had consumed him.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though it lacked any humor. How could you? he asked himself, gripping the edge of the tub as if it could ground him. A sharp pang of disgust sliced through him, his jaw clenching tightly. How could I stoop so low? he thought bitterly, his disdain for his weakness growing with each passing second. The heat of his actions still lingered, clinging to him like a second skin, and he hated it. He hated himself.

As Loki's breath slowed and the weight of his actions pressed down on him, his gaze drifted to the scattered jasmine petals that floated lazily in the water. Their delicate fragrance filled the air, and for a brief moment, it was almost suffocating. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the pale petals, their soft white against the dark water mocking him with their innocence. They reminded him of that damned robe, the mortal woman who had worn it—her.

He scowled, a wave of irritation rising in him as he cursed them for being the catalyst, the one thing that had led to this moment of weakness. It wasn’t their fault, of course; it never was. But in his mind, they were the symbol of everything that had gone wrong. If only she hadn’t worn it, he thought bitterly. If only I hadn’t noticed her at all...

With a sharp wave of his hand, he dispelled the jasmine petals and the evidence of his indulgence, watching as they disappeared into nothingness, as if they had never been there to begin with. But the disquiet that followed lingered, refusing to vanish as easily as the evidence of his lapse.

Another gesture and the steaming bath turned icy cold, the sudden shock making him shudder. The chill was a reprieve—a way to snap himself back to reality, to wash away the lingering tremors still shaking his resolve.

“This means nothing,” he muttered under his breath, the words more of a command than a truth. He busied himself scrubbing away the remnants of his lapse in control, desperate to rid himself of the memory. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as if staying in the tub any longer would trap him in the thoughts he wanted to escape.

Nothing. He forced himself to believe that. He had allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his body’s basic urges, by the frustration of months of mounting stress—the endless manipulations of his “parents,” the suffocating chains of his conditional freedom, the constant reminder that his every action was watched and judged. And then, her—this mortal who had somehow wormed her way into his thoughts. She was simply an enticing distraction, an irritation that had lodged itself under his skin, and nothing more. He had no time for such trivial mortal attachments.

He exhaled sharply, dispelling the shame that clung to him like an uncomfortable cloak. It was just stress. A temporary lapse. The heat of the moment. It didn’t mean anything.

He turned his attention to the water, an escape of sorts, as he manipulated the temperature. His magic flowed effortlessly, and the warm bath transformed into an icy, biting chill. He let the cold seep into him, willing it to numb the stirring emotions that had begun to surge. But the cold only made him feel sharper, more exposed, the shock of it heightening his awareness of every thought, every tremor within him.

He couldn’t stay in the water any longer. The longer he lingered, the more the memory of what had just transpired would settle into his mind. And he couldn’t bear that. He didn’t want to acknowledge how badly the moment had shaken him.

His movements were quick, almost frantic, as he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. His fingers were stiff as he dried off, each movement seeming mechanical, as though he was trying to force himself back into control, back into the careful, calculated Loki that he prided himself on being.

But even as he dressed, the thoughts didn’t fade. He told himself it was nothing. He told himself that it meant nothing. But even as he stepped away from the tub, a small, nagging voice echoed in his mind. Unless?

He stopped, mid-step, his chest tightening again. Could it be that simple? Could he dismiss it so easily? His gaze flicked to the empty tub, and a deep, unsettling feeling curled in his gut. The space seemed too quiet now, too still, and he could almost hear her voice again in the silence.

Loki quickly turned away, his mind racing. No. He refused to entertain it. It was stress. Nothing more. She was nothing more. Still, as he left the bathing chamber, his steps quick and unsteady, that seed of doubt lingered. He could feel it in the way his heart beat a little faster, the way his breath caught for a fraction of a second longer than it should have. And no matter how much he tried to push it away, there it was: Unless...

ending notes :

The way I was acting like that for the entire writing is SHAMEFUL. Lord have mercy on me.

Also, I'm not sorry for the length. I hope you enjoyed it thoroughly nonetheless. And get your mind out of the gutter, I'm talking about the fic, not Loki. :p

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Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

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dividers ©️ @angelremnants + @arminsumi .

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another-lost-mc · 2 months ago

Text

Mammon reaps the rewards of a certain arrangement he has with Lucifer.

THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS | Mammon x gn!Reader x Lucifer

Content Warnings: NSFW. Established Lucifer x Reader. Prompt: Lucifer gets cucked by Mammon (by invitation/with consent). Mammon-centric POV (unreliable narrator). Mentions of gambling. Some jealousy/possessiveness and self-deprecation/angst. Oral sex (Mammon and Reader receiving); nipple play, fingering/prep and penetrative sex (Reader receiving); implied masturbation; biting and marking; lowkey scent kink. 3.3k words no we're not going to talk about it

A/N: This is my contribution to the @ficsforgaza Kinktober event! Please check out the other fics and show the authors some love for their amazing work this month.

Sometimes it starts with a glance. A brief look across the dining room table or across the student council chambers at RAD. The weight of Lucifer’s gaze is its own unspoken question, an invitation and a challenge issued wordlessly in one fell swoop. Mammon can sense the anticipation that radiates off you as a promise of what’s to come once night falls, the decadent sins that ripple through your soul and overwhelm his senses like waves against the shore. Where denying Lucifer something is like a bad habit, denying you something you want goes against everything he believes in as your first. His brother’s arrogance and condescension makes his teeth ache with the urge to draw blood; the love and lust in your eyes when you look at him makes his heart race and his cock throb instead.

This little arrangement they have has no schedule. It's uncharacteristically impulsive, at least where Lucifer is concerned, and there's probably a complex set of circumstances when Lucifer offers Mammon an invitation to join. To partake. And to date, Mammon has never refused.

Tonight's offer catches the second-born completely by surprise. Mammon is at the casino when he feels the familiar bzzzt of his D.D.D. vibrating in his back pocket. The mountain of chips in front of him is a glorious sight; he’s been on a ruthless winning streak since he walked into the casino nearly three hours ago and he’s ecstatic with the fortune he’s earned so far.

Among the Devildom elite, it's a well-established fact that the only thing more entertaining than watching Mammon in the throes of a losing streak, making reckless bets and getting more riled up by each loss, is his unrivaled excitement and infectious luck when he wins. He's in his element in a place like this, and the Avatar of Greed lives up to his name when there's plenty of coin in his pocket. Gathered around the table where he has made himself comfortable this evening, there’s a large crowd surrounding the table, eager to witness the sight for themselves. demons hoping to challenge the Great Mammon with bets of their own for the smallest chance to take him down a peg or two. Some demons get close to him in hopes that his good luck will rub off on them too. Others are simply curious to see what else this promising night will bring if they stick around to find out.

There’s not much that would drag Mammon away from the promise of an exorbitant amount of Grimm that awaits him by the time the casino closes for the night. The money he’s won so far is already spoken for: the new seasonal launch at Majolish he wants to buy for himself (and for you), new detailing and mechanical upgrades for his precious car. Hell, he might even pay off some of his debts with what's left over just to get Lucifer off his ass about it for a change.

He doesn't think twice as he pulls out his D.D.D. and swipes his thumb across the screen, breath catching as he reads the brief message that awaits him. Mammon can’t tell whether Lucifer's words are meant to be a friendly invitation or an arrogant summons. Both possibilities irk him in ways he can’t explain, but Mammon blames it on poor timing as Lucifer's tempting yet sudden proposal threatens to derail what would otherwise be a very profitable evening.

Since the very beginning, you and Lucifer both assured him that he could participate at his leisure. He had no obligations to indulge their whims, no repercussions or hurt feelings if he refused.

(He has no doubt Lucifer might find a way to punish him for his refusal later, but that threat pales to your own disappointment that Mammon knows you have difficulty hiding from him at the best of times, and isn't something he ever wants to do - not if he can avoid it.)

Mammon shuffles the dice in his hand and glances at the waiting challengers seated at the table nearby and mulls over his options quickly. He can ignore the message - try to pretend he didn’t see it - and see where his rare lucky streak takes him. Or, he can return home earlier than planned and indulge in a little bit of sin of a different variety.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly his mind's made up because he’s already getting up from his seat, waving over an attendant to cash out his winnings while placating the disappointed crowd with bland, half-hearted apologies. What he realizes later, once he stops sulking about his wasted good luck by the time he drives home, is that you are, undeniably and without a doubt, the best prize he could've hoped for tonight.

Mammon has a vague idea of what to expect when he raps his knuckles roughly on the dark wood grain of Lucifer’s bedroom door. When he got home, he spared a few minutes to shower so the stench of the casino and countless faceless demons didn't cling to his skin like sweat. His white hair darkens in damp curls at the back of his neck, and a pair of loose sleep pants hang low on his hips. He didn’t bother putting on a shirt or underwear - he won’t be dressed long enough for it to matter. After the discomfort of pulling his tight denim jeans over his erection earlier, hard and cramped inside the thick and unyielding material as he swore and fumbled with his zipper, he’s glad for the loose fabric that brushes teasingly against his bare skin now.

There's a soft patter of footsteps before the door swings open. Inside the room is dark except for a few flickering candles and the light from the hallway that spills across your face, illuminating your dark, lust-blown eyes and mischievous smile when you see him.

His vision is still spotty as he adjusts to the drastic shift from light to dark when you pull him inside the room and push him against the door, effectively slamming it shut, and his sputtered greeting trails off into a sharp curse when you waste no time tugging his pants down his thighs as you fall gracefully to your knees. Your delighted hum as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock leaves him gasping; his fingers curl around the back of your head encouragingly as you flick over the slit and lap up the beads of pre-come before you bob your head, shallowly at first and then faster as your mouth stretches around him, while his hands guide your rhythm without pushing too forcefully.

His cock grazes the back of your throat, muffling your moans when you pull back teasingly to lave over the slit and lick the underside of his shaft just to swallow him down again. Your fingers curl around the base of his erection where your mouth can’t reach, pumping him with the same rhythm as your mouth sliding up and down his length, and it sends him spiraling towards his release. It’s fast and desperate and perfect. His own desire echoes in the wet, worshipful look in your eyes when you glance at him from beneath your lashes, the way your free hand strokes his hip and caresses his thigh and cups the warm, heavy weight of his balls as you urge him closer to the edge.

He can smell your own arousal permeating the air and knows it's probably staining the flimsy fabric of your underwear. He fantasizes about pushing aside the sticky fabric with his fingers - or perhaps ripping through it with his fangs - and then he finally comes with a hoarse shout, with the phantom taste of your cum on the tip of his tongue as he pants your name between deep, shuddering breaths. When he blinks the haze of his orgasm from his eyes, the sight of you kneeling at his feet and palming yourself through your clothes, lips dark and shiny with spit and eyes begging him for more, is nearly enough to completely unravel his self-control.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you effortlessly across the room before dropping you onto Lucifer’s oversized bed with a heated grin. You crawl up the mattress and lay back against the soft, dark sheets as he kneels on the edge of the bed and crawls over you, kicking off his pants and baring his fangs in a smirk. He's already half-hard eager for more; his cock hangs heavily between his legs, bobbing between his belly and your thighs as he positions himself over you, and smearing the first drops of his renewed arousal across your skin.

Subtle movement across the room catches Mammon’s eye, and he wonders how he nearly forgot Lucifer’s presence. It’s not unusual for Lucifer to observe quietly while Mammon takes you apart for his viewing pleasure. Mammon’s actually grateful for his brother’s silence most of the time because he can pretend it’s just the two of you, the way he would prefer, but this is the next best thing.

(He tells himself it’s not pathetic to crave these moments with you that he’s allowed to have, when the only other alternative is not having you at all.)

Mammon ignores the tall shadow in the periphery of his vision, with its sharp smirk and blood-red eyes, as he peels off your clothes, tugging off your shirt first followed by your sleep pants and underwear.

(Wet, just like he knew they would be).

He leans down and one slow, soft kiss turns into many, filthy and deep and all-consuming. The room is quiet except for the slick sounds of lips and tongues grazing each other, punctuated lightly by thready moans and contented sighs. He can taste a hint of blood when he sucks on your bottom lip with too much enthusiasm and kicks you with one of his fangs. He licks across the cut in apology before slowly sliding down your body, eager to make it up to you in other ways.

He drags his mouth along your jaw, nipping down the column of your throat and littering your neck and collarbone with red marks shaped like his mouth, indents of his teeth that are likely to bruise by tomorrow, and presses you into the sheets as he slowly eases down your body.

(He hopes the fresh spritz of citrusy cologne he applied before coming here overpowers the barely-there traces of spice and smoke from the cologne that Lucifer wears instead.)

Gooseflesh follows the trail of his greedy hands and mouth as he continues his ministrations. He flicks his tongue across your nipples and rubs your chest with his palms, smoothing his hands over the curve of your belly before easing them gently between your legs and prying them open so he can settle comfortably between them. One lube-slicked finger works you open, dipping inside with shallow thrusts, scissoring gently to stretch you wide enough to take his cock, and he exhales hotly between lazy kisses along the tops of your thighs. His eyes glance upward and drink in the delightful arch of your back as your legs gently lock him in place as he alternates pumping three thick fingers inside you with the devilish curl of his tongue so he can taste you too.

He could stay buried between your legs all night, knuckle-deep and mouthing at your arousal, but each moan and broken gasp of his name shoots through him from the tinted tips of his hair all the way to his toes, and it’s all he can do to control his own lust and resist the urge to rut against the bed. He might only come once more tonight, and he’ll be damned if he spills himself over Lucifer's thousand-count-sheets instead of inside you (where he belongs).

Usually when Mammon fucks you, he likes to see your face. The way your desire for him shines in your eyes, how your skin warms with sweat and flushes from his attention. He hoards all those reactions to think about later when he misses you and jerks off to the memory of your body pressed against his, opening up and falling apart like he’s the only one in the world that gets to see you like this.

As he holds himself above you, balancing his weight on his hands while he kneels between your legs, he glimpses your arm thrown across the mattress, fingers stretched out towards the corner of the room where Lucifer watches from the darkness. You haven't said his brother's name, but the silent plea is just as visceral, and Mammon tugs your hands above your head and pins both your wrists down firmly, but not enough to hurt. He growls deep in his chest, eyes narrowing slightly in warning, but you squirm beneath him helplessly, urging him to keep going. It turns you on when he gets a little jealous and no matter what he says or does, you know that he won’t hurt you.

For the first time tonight, Lucifer makes a noticeable sound at that little display - an amused huff of laughter that adds a hint of embarrassment and shame to the desire coiling deep inside of Mammon. He knows Lucifer can probably feel the indignant flicker of pride along with the waves of greed and lust that overwhelm him. It’s natural that their sins feed off each other - that’s part of what makes this so damn good for both of them. But when Mammon risks glancing at his brother for a moment and expects Lucifer is watching his display of jealous insecurity with an arrogant sneer, something like approval flickers in his crimson gaze instead.

The moment of pettiness and mutual understanding passes, and Mammon shakes his head and refocuses on the task at hand. He shushes you even as you wriggle your hips and rub yourself against him, trying to coax his cock, slick with lube and dribbles of pre-come, into your stretched and eager and very empty hole. The angle’s not quite right but the faintest bit of pressure of his tip catching the rim before slipping past, over and over as you whine and tremble in frustration, is enough to disperse all his self-deprecating thoughts so all he sees and hears and wants is you.

Your voice cracks pathetically when you beg him to please, please, please fuck you already, and he’s nearly undone by the sudden heat that envelops him when he digs his fingers into your hips and finally pushes inside, firm and deep in one smooth thrust. He holds himself steady even though every spark of white-hot pleasure ricocheting through his body is practically screaming for more, to take what you offer him so willingly and consume you until there's nothing left.

He waits patiently for you to adjust. His meticulous prep beforehand still doesn’t compare to the way he stretches you open with his cock. It’s a sight that leaves him breathless every time and he can't help but stare greedily, transfixed as he moves deeper inside you, inch by tantalizing inch, until he's fully seated and has claimed you for himself. Only when your trembling legs tighten around his waist and your nails dig deep into his shoulders and scratch down his back, giving him a dreamy smile and a nod, does he finally start to move.

He starts with a few tentative pumps of his hips but he has no patience for slow, drawn-out lovemaking tonight. It feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a knife with a lit fuse deep in his gut that’s already close to bursting. Usually he teases you with slow, languid strokes, alternating deep and shallow thrusts, drawing back and holding himself still before burying himself to the hilt over and over again.

Tonight there’s no no finesse, no tenderness, no teasing games to see which of you breaks first. His body moves with purpose, fueled by raw power and the lust that clouds his mind. He fucks you hard and deep, and he can’t hear the creaking springs of the mattress over the sharp thud of the headboard that bangs against the wall from the force of his movements. He leans forward and braces himself on his forearm so he can sneak the other hand between your bodies and stroke you clumsily with his fingers to help you finish when he does. He knows he’s not going to last long, not with the quick, rough snap of his hips as he fucks you.

(Lucifer's presence, still cloaked in shadow in the corner of the room, makes him feel more sensitive and exposed - but he senses his brother's own desperation as Lucifer's greed swells too, reverberating in the sin he knows so well, and part of him is grateful that they're both hurtling towards the edge of lust-fueled madness, together.)

When you come, it's with a shaky moan beneath him. The pulsing heat tightening around his cock sends Mammon hurtling towards his own release. He rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm with lazy, stuttered thrusts.

(A deep groan and a soft curse resonates briefly in Mammon's awareness, the only indication that Lucifer must've brought himself to orgasm watching you both fall apart in his bed.)

After fucking his cum back inside you, as deep as he can until he’s too sensitive and has to pull out, Mammon enjoys a brief sense of primal satisfaction that he’s left a trace of himself behind, one that’ll hopefully linger long after he’s gone for the night.

He kisses you again, gentle and sweet, and helps you settle on your side before getting up on wobbly legs to find something nearby he can wipe you clean with. He’s not completely surprised that Lucifer’s already approaching the bed with a warm cloth for each of you. Mammon who wipes his hands and the wet patch of hair around the base of his cock gingerly before using the other clean towel to wash carefully between your legs. Afterwards, he tosses both of them towards the laundry hamper nearby. It's a good effort, but a miss - the messily rolled-up cloths land on the carpeted floor with a wet little plop.

(He's worn out and his hands are still trembling slightly from the exertion, but he's not about to tell his brother that.)

Next, Mammon busies himself looking for his sleep pants among the rumpled pile of discarded clothes on the floor and wonders how Lucifer can still look so prim and proper in comparison. As he tugs his pants up over his legs, he looks closer at his older brother and feels vindicated that he's not nearly as unaffected as he pretends to be. There's a faint sheen of sweat beading along his brother’s hairline and greying temples, and a healthy pink flush colours his cheeks. The only hint that Lucifer lost control of himself at some point during the proceedings are his slacks that sit low on his slim waist, unbuttoned and unzipped, with a glimpse of silky black boxer briefs peeking out through the opening.

They don't exchange useless pleasantries at the door except for a murmured good night and Mammon's lazy wave over his shoulder as he spins around and waltzes back to his bedroom. He flops down in his own bed and breathes deeply, enjoying the tingly afterglow and scent of your arousal still wafting off his skin. He looks thoroughly fucked with sweat-slicked and messy hair from your fingers running through it. The bite mark in his left shoulder, your effort to muffle your cry when you came, and the scratches in his back sting and ache deliciously when he rolls around in his sheets and drifts off to sleep, weary and so utterly content.

(If he wears a sleeveless shirt tomorrow that shows off the crescent ring of teeth bruising his shoulder, it's no one's business but his own.)

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #fics for gaza #ffg kinktober

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strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Watch out, don't look. She's your nightmare of a dream. Go home, run fast… Blood's her favorite shade of red. Say your prayers and go to bed.

warnings; no use of y/n, fem!reader, reader referred to as a girl twice i think?, blood, blood is a big plot point here, reader isn't exactly human, a little vampiric?, eddie & dustin kind of come to the rescue, steve centric though, oral sex, penetrative sex, just to be clear reader doesn't hurt steve or make him bleed, she just craves blood, don't let the insp. fool you this is actually very soft

(loosely inspired by jennifer's body)

word count; ~10k

a/n; i had a couple of drinks and watched jennifer's body and suddenly i couldn't think about anything but this. did this turn out a lot longer and little softer than i initially intended?? yes! yes it did. idk what to tell you.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! x

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

Everything's a bit foggy when you first wake.

Your memories, or lack thereof, refuse to come when you dig through the recesses of your mind, no clues or wisps of recollection trickling in no matter how strongly you will them to come. An ache forms in your temples as you attempt to recall where you are, where you've been, how you got here.

Where even was here?

A gust of wind rushes over your bare skin and prompts the distantly familiar rustle of leaves and branches that always accompanies a breeze in the woods. Every inch of your exposed flesh pebbles up uncomfortably from the cold, hairs on your arm standing on end, nipples tightening into hard peaks, stomach tensing as you fight off a full-body shiver.

Then comes the slow twitch of your fingers. The ability to move your extremities slowly creeps back in, allowing your hand to curl loosely around the cool earth underneath you, dirt and rocks and long-dead leaves wedging themselves beneath your fingernails.

Gravel and twigs crunch beneath your head when you roll it ever so slightly to the side and crack your eyes open. Through cloudy vision, you fight to focus on the spring-blooming trees above. It's overly difficult, that simple task of keeping your eyes open through the slow fluttering blinks, your eyelids heavy and leaden as you struggle to adjust to the dark twilight around you.

A groan rumbles up your throat when you drag yourself up, legs shaking, ankles weak, vision wavering. Bleary eyes take in the way that the trees seem to sway around you, take in the sun just cresting the horizon, and finally, when you stumble and your gaze drops, they take in the blood covering your naked body. Streaks of it down your chest so thick that the color of your nipples underneath is indistinguishable from your bare skin. It covers your stomach with a shade of red so dark it nearly looks black in the dim light of early morning, dripping down your pelvis and smearing wetly into the crease of your thighs. The warmth of it has already begun to dwindle and cool against your skin from the chill of the air and your palm meets the blood-soaked skin of your lower belly on instinct, hazy vision zeroing in on the way the color looks against your fingertips as thick droplets fall from your hand to the earth below.

Someone else's blood? Or your own?

The lack of recollection has fear slithering its way up the length of your spine and you do shiver this time. Cold and lost, you're overwhelmed with a niggling feeling of hunger swirling in your gut, the strength of it unlike anything you've ever felt before. A cold pit of hollow emptiness paired cruelly with a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The ache only seems to amplify the dryness in your throat, the tremble in your dirt and blood-crusted fingers.

Everything feels heavier than it should — Clumsier. One of your hands shoots out when you stumble over your own feet. You brace yourself against a tree as you try to refamiliarize yourself with the way that each your muscles and limbs work, every movement requiring too much effort. Each small step in your body feeling alien and forced, unnervingly foreign.

It's while your head continues to throb painfully against your skull that your fingertips find a smooth patch of wood. You rub at that place where the bark has been deliberately stripped away from the tree's trunk, the surface providing a blank canvas for the initials that have been clumsily etched into the living wood. While you dig your fingernail into the curve of that first letter, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

As your lungs fill, a dark fog further clouds your already muddled brain. It's no longer the smell of the earth and the trees of the forest around you that rush to your senses. Instead, your nose is suddenly filled with the scent of teakwood, nicotine, and spice — mingling sweetly with something warm that you can't quite place, but makes your belly flip with interest all the same.

Mind clouded and knees shaky, you push away from the tree, some vague sense of rightness pulling you a step to the right, and then another, until you're wandering slowly to the edge of the forest and toward the road that lays just beyond the treeline.

Your throat itches painfully as you recall the scent that lingered behind and clung to that carving in the tree trunk. It burns in your throat. It pushes your feet to move faster. The smell as well as the shape of the letters that are now etched behind your eyelids.

S. H.

Wind of his own creation whips against Steve's face as he pushes through the exhaustion and wills his body to keep going. Sweat trickles down from his hairline, cresting his brow bone and streaking a path over his temple before the tickle of it forces Steve to hook his fingers into the damp fabric of his shirt, his shoulder lifting to wipe the droplet away.

His heavy breaths cloud in barely visible puffs of foggy condensation in the cool morning air, the heat building beneath his skin from exertion causing a pink flush to creep up the tanned skin of his neck and face.

The deserted street holds only the soft sound of his tattered running shoes slapping against the pavement with each stride, the sharp huffs of air that push through his nose with every breath in and out, the muffled beat of the music that trickles out from the foam pads he has hooked over his ears, a wire winding down to the walkman clipped at the waistband of his shorts.

The sun creeps up higher with each minute that passes, each mile toward downtown and then each mile back toward his tiny two bedroom fixer-upper on the outskirts of Hawkins. The dark blue of the morning sky is giving way to a lighter shade tinged with orange, the trees that hug the pavement blocking out most of the morning light that begins to creep back into the world.

Dim streaks of gold filter through the dusty window panes in his kitchen when he finally makes it home. Headphones still slotted over his ears, the music streaming through them blocks out the sound of his own labored breathing as he fills a glass of water from the sink.

The pipes groan with the effort and the front door creaks ominously on its hinges as it swings open again just outside the kitchen. Meanwhile, Steve gulps down the cool water, grateful for the way it soothes the dryness in his raw throat. The slow drag of bare feet across the battered floorboards go unheard as Steve quickly finishes his glass and fills it once more, sipping more slowly the second time around.

As you shuffle farther into the house, the first thing that you notice is how potent his scent is in the space. Every inch of the small house seems to be soaked in it; the heap of fabric hanging from the coat rack against the wall, the cushions on the battered sofa in the living room and the fleece blanket folded over the back, even the porous wood of the table and chairs is absolutely drenched in the smell of him.

The strength of it is overwhelming and it only proves to hypnotize you further as you step into the room behind him. The boy's overheated skin is giving off a delicious mix of sweetness with just a tinge of the sour stench of his sweat. You can practically feel the warmth of his blood and flesh on your tongue and it makes your mouth water, makes your chest tight with anticipation and excitement that you don't quite understand.

You can focus on little else, barely able to register the haphazardly cut off sleeves of the stranger's tshirt or the way that those gaping holes exposes the sides of his pecs and the hair beneath his arms. You hardly notice the way that his tiny cotton shorts hug his muscular thighs so wonderfully, nor the way that long hazelnut locks curls wetly around the sweatband that holds the hair back from his face.

The scent of him so close is intoxicating, the hunger in your gut too all-encompassing to truly relish in the way his shoulders strain beneath sweat-soaked cotton when he lifts a cup of water to his mouth.

Your feet carry you forward with a primal sort of instinct, until you're mere inches from the man's unsuspecting back, until you can see the drop of sweat that weaves out from beneath his hair and drips beneath the collar of his shirt.

Something prickles at the back of Steve's neck then, as you crowd closer, tiny hairs at the top of his spine standing on end while discomfort scrapes at the corner of his brain. It prompts him to turn, and the glass in his hand slips from his grasp and cracks loudly against the floor when he flinches in surprise. His headphones fall from his ears and settle to hang around his neck just in time for him to hear the sound of glass and water shattering against the kitchen tile.

Steve clutches at his own chest, “Jesus fucking-”

Though you're not sure why, you don't immediately attack. Something has you holding back, the ache in your throat burning like fire when you breathe him in again. His scent clings to the oxygen in a way that has your breath catching in your chest.

Steve's heart is pounding in his ears over the distant sound of the music that continues to blare through the headphones around his neck, but when he finally focusses on the sight of you in front of him, any fear for his own well-being is gone, flipping entirely until the sole focus of his worry is on you.

The stranger standing in his kitchen is looking at him with the hollow gaze of someone haunted, someone with demons. You look like you've been through hell, or perhaps like you've just stepped off the set of a slasher movie. Your hair is a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. The warm orange light filtering in through the windows displays curves of your naked body, blood covering the vastness of your exposed skin. He can't immediately make out an injury beneath all of the red, but it doesn't stop him from ripping his walkman from his body and tossing it in the counter behind him to finally silence the music and give you his full attention.

“Holy shit, what-”

You find the rasp of his voice delicious. Your head tips just slightly to one side as you finally allow yourself to take him in. He's beautiful, this scrumptious smelling stranger. You find yourself wanting to sink your teeth into the curve of his shoulder to hear the cry that would rip from his throat in response, want to feel his blood — warm and heavy and thick on your tongue.

“Are you okay? Fucking- Fuck, of course you're not okay,” He stammers in a panic, struggling with the effort of keeping his gaze from trailing over your exposed body. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out for you but is unsure how you might react to his touch — the thought forces the corner of your lip to tick up in a nearly imperceptible hint of a grin as he continues, “Shit, who- Who hurt you?” His eyes go soft, big and brown, wide and worried for your well-being, “Can you tell me what happened t'you, honey? C’you tell me who did this?”

The term of endearment that slips into his words has your stomach fluttering despite the bone-deep ache of hunger eating away at you. You give a small, wordless shake of your head, lips parting to take in another breath. As the air rushes in through your mouth, you find that you can taste him on your tongue, and the sweetness makes saliva pool behind your teeth to the point that you're forced to swallow it down.

“No? You don't know or.. Or you don't remember?” He questions carefully, his gaze trailing over a streak of blood at your hairline, “Did you hit your head?”

Another breath in through your mouth has your eyes fluttering, your exhale a trembling sounding thing as it pushes back out of your chest.

He seems to take your tremor as a sign of trauma-induced fear rather than what it truly is, and he stumbles a small step back, his attention moving to the basket of unfolded laundry sitting atop the washing machine at the other side of the room.

“Shit, lemme, uh, I'll just grab you a shirt or something and we can call-”

He's taking another step away as he speaks and- No, you think. That won't do.

Steve's rambling cuts off when he's shoved bodily into the wall. The clock hanging a few feet away rattles and his back aches with the impact of his spine against the drywall. He huffs out a sharp breath of surprise from your startling display of strength. You've got one hand against the steadily cooling dampness of his sweat-soaked chest, your other locked around both of his wrists, holding them securely against the seam of his own thighs.

“I, uh-” Steve stammers before swallowing with an audible gulp. He struggles against your grip and is stunned to find that he can't break free, his muscles straining with the effort despite the fact that your hands aren't large enough to even encircle entire circumference of his wrists.

You're leaning in then, your nose pushing into the curve of his throat to take in another deep breath. He can feel it when your mouth drops open as you pull in his scent, feels the way your parted lips drag against his sweaty skin. He fights back a shiver at the sensation, fights to remain still when you press yourself against him, blood from your chest soaking into his shirt, his trapped hands coming into contact with the warmth of the blood-soaked smattering of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“What, uh.. What's happening right now?” Steve questions, his voice pitched high with confusion and anxiety.

“I'm hungry,” Your voice comes finally, the sound of it wrecked and beautiful as it meets Steve's ears. Your teeth scrape the vein pulsing violently beneath his skin of his throat as your burrow deeper into him, your tongue coming out for just a quick taste of the salt and fear on his skin. “I'm so hungry.” You murmur against him, words muffled.

“Okay,” Steve squeaks, pulling against your grip on his wrists again but freezing when the meat of his palm brushes the bloody patch of hair over your mound. His knees feel weak, his fingers are trembling, breaths coming quick and sharp. He's never feared for his life quite so strongly while simultaneously feeling so aroused. It's all very confusing. “Okay, yeah. I, uh- I can- I can make some breakfast if- Ho-Shit. I.. If you're hungry-”

A low growl rumbles up your throat the mention of your hunger and you savor once again in the thought of how sweet his blood will taste on your tongue. He's very handsome — he seems sweet, kind. You don't want to kill him, but then again..

Your head swims dizzily.

“What's your name?” You ask in a low whisper that pushes your warm breath out against his skin and has his cock twitching traitorously in his pants.

“Steve-” He says in rush, “My name's Steve! And I- I can help you! Me and my friends have seen some crazy shit, I- I swear we can-”

You're taking in one last breath with your mouth against that pulsing vein where his scent is the strongest, pulling it in slow and deep and relishing in the way that the burn makes your throat ache, makes your stomach twist. But then you're leaning back to get a good look at his face. His pointed nose brushes the tip of your own as he tells you his name, his pleas thereafter falling breathlessly against your own lips in such close proximity.

“Are you scared, Steve?” You interrupt his rambling to ask sweetly, the hand on his shoulder coming up until you can swipe a bead of sweat away from his temple with the pad of your thumb. Your touch leaves a streak of red shining starkly against his tanned skin.

The boy, Steve, nods slowly.

“I know,” You whisper, your eyes studying the way the golden sunlight catches the hues of brown swirling in his irises, “Do you know how I know that, Steve?”

“Uh..” He swallows audibly again, fidgeting on his feet as much as he can in his current position between you and the wall behind him, “'s'it because.. 'Cause my hands are shaking?”

You move your head slowly side-to-side and the movement has your noses brushing again. Steve watches as the empty darkness in your eyes wavers with something that looks almost like it might be excitement.

“I can smell it,” You murmur, your mouth so, so close to his, “I can taste it on my tongue.”

“That's pretty cool,” Steve manages, “That, like, a superpower of yours? I, uh, I bet that comes in handy-”

“I don't know what's happening,” You interrupt his silly ramblings to admit quietly, your gaze holding his as you struggle to swallow down the instinct to sink your teeth into the muscled flesh where his shoulder meets his neck, “This feeling.. This hunger. Want your blood on my tongue. I.. I want to kill you, Steve.” You finish in a whisper, pupils blown wide.

“I- Please don't. Don't kill me.” He begs, feeling truly pathetic as he does so but also feeling far too frightened not to at least try.

The pretty swirls of brown and gold in his eyes shine with fear, and the sight has something sour twisting in your chest beneath your ribs. It has your grip on his wrists tightening for a second before you're releasing them entirely. A deep exhale pushes all of the air from your lungs and you hold it as long as you can, eyes pinching shut as you try to rein in the primal urge to maim, kill, and feed.

The absence of his wrists in your grip has the tremble in your own hands starting up again as they travel up the length of his torso, blood smearing against the beauty marks on his cheeks when you take his warm face in your hands.

“I don't want to want to kill you.” You tell him in a weak rasp.

Steve lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, hesitating for only a moment before he's wrapping his larger hands around the backs of your own.

“Okay.. Okay, that's good,” He nods wildly in relief, though his heart continues to beat irregularly with unsettled nerves, “That's a good start, huh? Let's run with it-”

His cheeks and his palms are so warm in comparison to your own skin. You push your dirty fingers against his cheeks until they almost squish under the pressure, his lips forced to purse cutely while you relish in the heat that seeps into your hands.

“I'm not used to it,” You tell him quietly, “The way it.. It hurts. It burns.”

When Steve hooks his thumbs beneath your palms to ease your hands away from his face, he's surprised to find that you don't put up a fight, merely allowing him to lower your arms to your sides and hold them there.

“Are you.. So you're.. a newly turned vampire or something?” He questions slowly.

A quick snort of laughter escapes you in your surprise and the sound combined with the sight of your lips tugging up at the corners into an amused smile has Steve smiling as well, albeit in confusion.

“What?” You're giggling around the word and Steve thinks that his heart might skip a beat at the sound. What was wrong with him?

“..What?” Steve repeats.

“I'm not.. I'm not a vampire.” You laugh softly again.

“You're not?” He questions slowly, brows drawing together when you shake your head at him, “Then.. What are you?”

The question stumps you. The ache in your temples makes itself known again when you push against that impenetrable wall of emptiness in your mind in search of something.

Steve watches your brows furrow in concentration, watches the way your nose scrunches up cutely. You're beautiful and terrifying and his heart has felt on the verge of possibly beating out of his chest since the first second that he laid eyes on you — ethereal and stunning like some sort of nightmare swathed daydream.

All at once, he remembers your current state of undress, the soft squish of your breasts against his chest over the blood and sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt is suddenly impossible to ignore. He feels a rush of heat flush the skin under his collar all the way up to his ears and- Dear God, he needs to get a hold of himself.

“I don't..” A disgruntled sigh blows past your lips, unaware of Steve's mental unraveling, “I don't know. I can't remember.. anything.”

Steve only nods, shouldering past you slowly and moving toward the aged refrigerator on the other side of the room to peer inside.

“So you don't know for sure that you're not a vampire,” Steve teeters his head side to side as he takes in the stark emptiness within the fridge, his neglect to do any form of grocery shopping in the last week suddenly feeling like a grave error, “There's gotta be a few other possibilities, for sure, but uh-” He swings the refrigerator door closed with a sigh, “My friend Dustin will probably know more. The kid's, like, super smart. It's borderline annoying. Just- Why don't you get rinsed off or whatever and I'll give him a call for reinforcements.”

You frown as you peer down at yourself as if only just now remembering the state of yourself, one arm comes up to cover your breasts while the other does its best to hide what's between your legs. A trickle of nerves creeps up your spine that had been nonexistent before, the initial fog that accompanied your hunger and that first whiff of Steve's scent having overpowered everything else.

You had almost grown accustomed to the wetness of the blood beneath your arms, but now it irked you, uncomfortable with the fact that you still couldn't recall where it had come from, whose blood it was. The wondering has you feeling a bit nauseous suddenly.

“Rinse off,” You repeat slowly, avoiding locking eyes with the pretty brown gazing at your from across the room, “Yes. I should rinse.. this.”

He leads you to the bathroom with a wide palm warm against your spine that has your stomach flipping with entirely too eager butterflies.

It felt a bit dangerous, how much you crave to please this beautiful man already, how much you wish to bury yourself inside of his skin and never, ever leave.

Hair and skin scrubbed clean, donning borrowed socks, a pair of cotton gym shorts that were achingly similar to the tiny pair Steve had been wearing earlier that morning, and a soft crewneck with sleeves that hung past your fingertips, you eventually wandered into the open space between the entryway and living room.

Steve's head snaps up at the soft shuffle of your socked feet against the floorboards that signals your arrival. In your absence he's changed his own clothes, a clean tshirt and light wash denim replacing his sweaty and now blood-stained clothes from before. The puffy sweatband that had held his hair back had been removed as well, his mousy-brown hair hanging a bit limply as it dried around his face.

He makes his way toward you in a rush, stopping just a few inches short of actually making physical contact. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly now that you're no longer indecently exposed, memorizing the lines of your face and the softness of your damp hair and the smooth plushness of your bare thighs beneath his shorts.

“How're you.. You feeling okay?” Steve asks cautiously after an embarrassingly long moment of ogling. He prays that you haven't noticed his wandering gaze while your own has been preoccupied with taking in the furniture, the framed photographs, and the mess of magazines and comic books strewn throughout the living room.

Your eyes find his as you push a wet lock of hair behind your ear, closing your eyes in concentration as you take in your first breath since entering the room, letting the oxygen flood in through your mouth and focussing on the ache that his scent prompts in the base of your throat. It hurts, it does, but it's not nearly as overwhelming as it had felt upon that first whiff of it in the woods, nor is it as painful as when you'd breathed it straight from his skin in the kitchen.

“It's.. Bearable,” You promise slowly, “For now.”

“Good, good. That's good.” Steve lets a relived grin wash over his face.

“Your friend.. Daniel? When is-”

“Dustin,” Steve corrects immediately, “His name's Dustin.”

“Right.. Dustin,” You acknowledge, shaky fingers toying idly with the hem of your borrowed shorts, “When should we expect-”

It seems that your question is destined to remain unfinished, as the rumbling of a battered car engine grows louder in its approach, the rattling accompanied by the heavy thump of music blasting through a stereo. The familiar sounds have Steve letting loose a groan in discontent as he moves to pull open the front door, and as you peer around his shoulder, you spot a rusted van pulling into the driveway. The brakes creak, the deafening music cutting off as the doors on either side fly open and two young men tumble from the vehicle.

“Dusty buns, grab the goods from the back, would you?” The driver orders the boy currently climbing out of the passenger side of the van.

“What?” The boy scoffs in disbelief, adjusting the cap that squishes the tight ringlets of curls around his face and neck, “Gross. Why do I have to carry it?”

“Why do you have to carry it? Hm.. Why do you have to carry it..? Uh, let’s see..” The driver's face scrunches up in thought, a wild mane of dark curls and waves hanging past his shoulders as he leans his weight against the frame of the door, allowing it to remain open as he drapes an elbow over the metal. He drums his fingers against his lips in a slow rhythm as he pretends to ponder the question, dark nail polish harsh against his pale skin, “Because you woke me up at seven in the morning on my day off to run a weird errand for Harrington.. Because I snuck in to the butcher to get it.. And, ah shit.. What was the last reason..? Oh! Because I said so.” He finishes loudly, finally moving to slam the car door shut.

The next few seconds pass in a bit of a blur — everything happens so quickly. Steve watches the door collide with the longer-haired boy's face with a painful sounding thud. The resulting blood that begins to pour from his nose comes all too quickly, and Steve only processes what's happened enough to offer a wince in sympathy. It takes longer than it should for him to realize that he should perhaps be concerned about you.

With a slight delay, Steve turns to face you with wide eyes and finds your pretty lips are parted in desperation, an unfocused glassy look in your eyes as your own gaze flickers between Steve and the scene in the driveway behind him.

“Eddie, shit. You okay?” The boy at the other side of the vehicle is saying as Steve begins to usher you back into the house with his hands at your biceps, “Wha- Steve where the hell're you going!”

The boy's call remains unanswered as Steve instead leads you backwards down the hallway and into a room past the kitchen.

“Steve.” You whisper hoarsely, throat burning so severely it feels like it's been set aflame.

“I know, honey. Shit. I know, I know.”

The front door slams shut in the distance, disgruntled murmuring voices edging into the house and making Steve curse under his breath. He brings a wide palm up to cover the expanse of your mouth and nose, his other hand still dragging soft along your upper arm.

“Not a vampire, huh?” Steve jokes weakly, “Y'sure about that?”

Your brows pinch as you narrow your eyes at him and frown beneath his hand.

“Steve, c'mon man where do you keep the tissues!” A voice calls in annoyance.

“Hold the fuck on, Henderson!” Steve yells back over his shoulder, before refocussing on you, “You're okay, it's gonna be okay. Just stay here and I'll get them to leave and it'll all be fine. Deep breaths- No, shit, fuck, no deep breaths. Forget I said that. Just..”

You make a small sound against his palm and he gives you a weak, apologetic wince of a smile.

“Don't kill my friends, alright? Please. Just stay here, okay? I'll be back.”

He's gone in a flash, battered wooden door latching shut behind him and leaving you holding your breath to keep the foggy haze of your hunger at bay. Your stomach twists sharply as the voices on the other side of the door pick up and you reach up to cover your mouth and nose with your own smaller hands as you fight the urge to breathe in the sweet coppery scent of fresh blood that you know must be wafting through the house already.

You manage to resist for perhaps twenty-five agonizing seconds before your shaking hands slacken a bit over your face and a deep breath fills your lungs. The potency of the blood in your chest wracks your body, a hazy darkness creeping into the edges of your vision as your hand blindly reaches for the doorknob. You move down the hallway unthinkingly and friendly, bickering conversation comes to an abrupt stop as three sets of eyes focus on you.

The lingering glances to your borrowed clothes are anything but subtle. One of the boys, Eddie, raises his eyebrows in approval even as he keeps a hand cupped over his nose in a weak attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The other boy, shorter and softer at the edges, gapes incredulously as he drops a thick tupperware bowl onto the coffee table, his narrowed gaze drifting to where Steve was looking at you in wide-eyed panic.

“You have a girl over?” The shortest of the boys asks in disbelief, “Are you shitting me? Dude, come on. You're not seriously trying to rush us out after making a delivery like this, no questions asked, so you can get laid for what evidently wouldn't even be the first time-”

Steve ignores him as you move toward Eddie with single-minded determination and that worryingly glassy look in your eyes. Steve's hand just misses your shoulder as you pass, catching only air while your own hand grasps Eddie's wrist to ogle at the blood staining his palm.

“Honey, honey, maybe-”

“Aw, you jealous Stevie boy?” Eddie laughs, his voice congested around the blood clogging up his nasal passages, “That's cute. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll punch you before me and Dustin leave and then you two crazy kids can play doctor- oof-”

The teasing cuts off when you give him an unnaturally strong shove toward the couch. Eddie flails a bit as he falls onto the lumpy cushions, and you're perching yourself atop of him in the blink of an eye, your thighs pinning his arms against his own lap beneath you. He stares a up at you in stunned confusion, the black of your pupils blown wide and a sort of terrifying beauty in your features that seems to render him paralyzed both mentally and physically for a moment.

Your mind swims with how nice the blood smells from this close, how warm it feels in the air against your skin, prickling and sparking along your spine and prompting goosebumps of elation to creep up the back of your neck.

“Harrington,” Eddie acknowledges with a hint of amusement as his regains a bit of composure, he nods his head vaguely to the person who has sequestered his lap and trapped his hands in the process, “Is, uh.. This your girl?”

Steve ignores him in favor of placing a slow, gentle hand on your shoulder from behind. He watches you run your thumb over the small scrape across Eddie's chin, watches your eyes flutter closed as you lean closer and swipe a finger through the fresh blood that's dripping from his nose down to his upper lip.

“Hey, honey..” Steve begins cautiously, swallowing past a nervous lump in his throat when you shake off his hand on your shoulder and bring your bloodstained fingers up toward your mouth, “Remember what we talked about.. Maybe we should-”

“Oh, she's fuckin' weird, man,” Eddie is chuckling in confusion all the while, though his smile never fades, “I think I like her-”

Dustin watches on in disgust as you slip those bloody fingers past your own lips and suck, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you, awaiting your reaction with varying emotions — confusion, disgust, horror.

Your brows furrow as you take in the taste of it, the immediate warmth and sweetness on your tongue is quickly overpowered by something sour, a sharp tang that makes you gag. You push Eddie back against the couch as you scramble from his lap, tripping in your haste and falling into Steve's waiting arms.

“Dude,” Eddie is saying, “She's actually a freak, and I mean that in the best way-”

“What the hell?” Dustin cries as he swallows down a gag of his own.

The sour stench of Eddie's blood lingers at the back of your throat and you retch again, gazing up at Steve with an expression he's yet to see on your face. Your eyes are wide and pleading, lips parted as you try to breathe in his scent to counteract the blood coating the back of your tongue.

Steve rubs at your upper arms in a soothing motion, relieved that for whatever reason, you didn't kill his friend.

“Steve,” You whisper hoarsely, “He tastes terrible.”

You sound horrified by the fact and Steve tuts softly, though the quiet noise is drowned out by Eddie's scoff of disbelief.

“Oh, well excuse me.” The sarcasm that drips from his voice doesn't go unnoticed as he tugs at the collar of his shirt to wipe the rest of the blood from under his nose.

“Steve.” You plead again as you tug on his shirtsleeve, you're not sure what you want him to do about the horrible taste in your mouth, but you find that you're willing to beg if he can make it go away.

“What the hell is going on? Steve?” Dustin demands sharply, “Are you planning on explaining any time soon?”

Eddie raises two fingers in the air, dark nail polish contrasting against his pale skin, “I'd like to know that too.”

Steve's eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you're tucking back into his neck and he's heaving a sigh.

“Right.. So, uh-”

Steve explains the events of your morning together and his theories, urging you to speak up every now and then to give your own take on things. Eddie and Dustin's arguments grow increasingly eager throughout the whole thing as they debate whether you might be a vampire or a demon, whether you hailed from the underworld and were cast out or simply had memory loss, what foods you might be able to sustain yourself on that wouldn't involve human flesh-

Some of their ponderings eventually fill your head with brief flashes, memories dragged to the surface that you attempt to explain despite what little you know. You tell them about the hazy recollections of a boy stripping you down until you were bare before him, how he'd ignored your slurred pleas for him to stop. The fuzzy image of him standing above you. His demands for the devil to bestow upon him each of his painfully shallow desires; popularity, sex, money. He'd demanded those things in exchange for the life of a virgin, your life, and you'd been given no opportunity to dispel his assumptions before he'd plunged the knife into your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

Perhaps you died, perhaps your didn't, but you remember the earth-shattering roar that had filled the forest just before a power unlike anything you'd ever felt began to thrum in your veins. You fondly recall the euphoria of that cruel, selfish boy's flesh beneath your teeth and the warmth of his blood trickling down your throat.

Rage burns in Steve's chest as you recount what you can remember of what happened to you. His hands ball into fists, knuckles aching with the fury he feels at the thought of you naked and vulnerable and begging for your life.

At some point in the chaos, around the time that the ache in your head begins to pulse, Steve ushers everyone into the kitchen and the unsuspecting tupperware that the two boys had delivered is pried open.

You stare down at the dark liquid inside with a slight crinkle in your nose, leaning a bit closer to try to get a read on the dull scent coming from the cold contents.

“Sweetheart you tackled me onto the sofa to get some of my blood only to announce that it tasted like shit ten seconds later,” Eddie chuckles with incredulity at your skepticism, “Now you got a whole bowl of blood in front of you and.. What? Nothing..?”

Your gaze goes to Steve rather than the boy who had spoken to you, your own eyes meeting golden brown. His warm palm rests over your hand where it's splayed on the countertop in front of the plastic bowl, his fingers giving a reassuring squeeze to pair with the quick upward tick at the corners of his lips.

“It just.. It doesn't really smell like much of anything,” You offer up hesitantly with a shake of your head, “No. No, it- That's not true. I mean, it smells like blood, it just.. The nuances aren't there?”

“What sort of nuances?” Dustin urges curiously, Eddie nodding wildly as they both eagerly await your elaboration.

“I-I don't..” You're drawn to Steve once again, like a magnet is pulling you in and guiding your gaze toward him at every turn.

“Take a second to think about it,” Steve urges softly.

You do with your brows drawn together and your head tipping to the side as you try to piece together the words to explain, “Well, Eddie's blood, for instance- It.. It smelled.. Warm. I could feel it on my tongue before I even tasted it. Just smelling it gave me.. chills — the good kind. Like, shiver down your spine-”

“Orgasmic,” Eddie pipes in with an amused little grin that prickles at Steve's nerves, “I believe the word you're looking for to describe how I smell is ‘orgasmic’, if those shivers I sent down your spine are to be taken into accou- Ow!”

Steve reaches over to smack Eddie into silence, the blow delivered to the other boy's shoulder with a bit more strength behind it than perhaps he intended.

“Stop talkin' shit,” Steve reprimands before grumbling under his breath, “Not givin' her fuckin' orgasms, fuckin' asshole.”

“How about both of you idiots fucking focus,” Dustin scolds in annoyance. His eyes roll hard beneath the shadow of the brim of his cap and then he's focussing back on you, “So Eddie's blood smelled good but tasted bad. This smells bad so.. maybe that means it'll taste good!”

“It didn't taste bad initially,” You shrug, still eyeing the undisclosed animal blood warily, “It was more the aftertaste.. It was, I don't know, sour or, like-”

“The pothead tasted bad, imagine that..” Steve mutters to himself.

“Holy shit. Steve you might actually be right about something!” Dustin exclaims with a wide grin.

“I might?” Steve repeats in confusion, eyebrows pinching together before he shakes himself off with a crooked grin that doesn't come off nearly as nonchalant as he is aiming for, “I mean, yeah, sure, totally. But, uh, what exactly am I right about?”

“Weed!” Dustin says like it should be obvious, turning toward the longer haired boy, “Eddie, when was the last time you smoked?”

Eddie looks between the three of you with wide eyes shining with innocence, “I, uh… Before bed. So, I guess, like, three-ish?”

“So.. The aftertaste was.. marijuana?” Steve says in slow disbelief.

“Smoking a bowl before bed seriously saved my life?” Eddie whispers suddenly.

“How does this information help.. This,” You poke at the plastic container with your index finger, the dark liquid sloshing slowly with movement, “Whatever this is- Taste better? It smells like a cup of water filled with pennies.”

“We could warm it up.” Dustin shrugs.

The four of you exchange shrugs of indifference as if to say, ‘why not?’ and then Steve has the contents of the container in a pot on the stove. He stirs it slowly as it warms and you hover at his back, chin hooked over his shoulder as the smell coming off of the dark liquid slowly grows more and more appealing.

Your fingers dig a little harshly into the softness at his hips when the burn in your throat grows too painful and he acknowledges your warning with a soft bump of his temple against your own as he flicks off the burner. A small bit of space is driven between you but Steve is turning and pushing a warm mug into your hands before you can make more than a small noise of protest.

The ceramic is warm against your palms, the heat coming off of the animal blood meeting your face when you bring the lip of the mug up to your mouth. You take a cautious sip, wary beneath the heavy weight of the gazes focussed so intently on your reaction.

Your eyes slip shut unconsciously, a low moan sounding in your throat at that first taste. The warmth of the blood dances along your tastebuds pleasantly, sweet and thick and delicious as it soothes the ache in your throat nearly instantly. Your gut twists in euphoric delight as you tip the mug further, swallowing down it's contents in desperate gulps.

Steve takes the mug from your hands and refills it without prompt once you reach the bottom, placing it back in your hands gently. His eyes follow your movements, watching intently as you hurriedly bring the cup back to your lips, sipping the dark liquid a bit slower, savoring it this time around.

“How is it?” Steve asks gently.

“She's drinking the stuff like her life depends on it, Steve, what the hell d’you think?” Dustin scoffs.

“Vampire girl likes cow's blood,” Eddie pumps one fist in the air in triumph, draping an arm heavily over Dustin's shoulders and ruffling the hat atop the boys head of curls, “I think we did good, Henderson.”

Steve ignores his friends in favor of placing a large hand against the steadily warming skin of your cheek, “Honey?” He urges.

“‘S good,” You promise with red-stained lips, shuffling forward into Steve's chest and nuzzling your head beneath his jaw for a moment to take in his already familiar scent. It's still mildly uncomfortable, the way it fights to itch at your throat despite the way the blood has soothed the burn, but there's also something comforting about his scent as it settles in your chest now.

Conversation picks up again between the two boys behind you. Steve's arm curls tight around your back, his weight resting against the countertop as he allows you to lean into his chest. Your body grows warmer with each sip of blood that passes your lips, a slow-growing, white flame building in your gut as the hunger ebbs and the soothing scent of Steve fills your lungs.

When you finish off your second helping, you set the mug down with a quiet clink, your eyes drawn to where Steve had set the pot of warmed blood aside on the counter. Steve's thick fingers are drumming idly against the surface, and the sight has you feeling a little overwhelmed. The hunger swirling in your gut now is vastly different from what had been fueling your actions earlier, a desperate tug of arousal making your stomach flip.

Dustin and Eddie no longer exist in your mind. You're far too busy grabbing a hold of Steve's hand, your smaller fist wrapping around his own and manipulating his movements until you can dip his index and ring fingers into the pot that's been slowly cooling against the countertop. Thick drops of deep crimson drip down the side of his wrist as it re-emerges. A zig-zagging line curves around the small bump of bone connecting to his forearm and your eyes can focus on nothing else. The world around you fades nothing more than a dull echo as you automatically crowd closer to Steve to collect the dripping blood with your lips and tongue.

All three boys watch the turn of events with bated breath. When your eyes flick up to meet Steve's again, a distant fog seems to have glazed over your eyes again.

“Gross..” Dustin assesses quietly.

“Hot.” Eddie disagrees immediately and vehemently.

Steve doesn't manage more than a weak croak at the back of his throat while he watches the your tongue poke out in an attempt to clean some of the dark liquid from your own lips.

“Steve.” You say softly, parted lips glistening and red.

“Yeah?” He asks in a high rasp.

You mean to respond, you do, but you're distracted by another drop of blood falling down the side of his hand and your words never come, silenced by the way you dart forward to capture it before it can reach his wrist.

“What, uh. What'd'you need, honey?” He asks as steadily as he can. His cock is already beginning to press against the zip on the inside of his jeans and he desperately wills himself to calm down.

“Need you.” You murmur with your lips against the blood-soaked tips of his fingers. You guide his hand until you can take the digits into your mouth.

Steve nearly chokes as his fingers are engulfed in the heat of your mouth, a choked sound crackling up his throat when the soft pad of your tongue flicks against them as you suck them clean.

“Leave.” Steve commands his friends without ever looking away from your mouth.

“Dude, are you serious?” Dustin exclaims, smacking Eddie's shoulder in disbelief, “He can't be serious!”

Your tongue pushes between his fingers, the warmth of the muscle nearly causing Steve's knees to buckle. His own tongue feels suddenly dry as it lays heavy in his mouth, his cock achingly thick and hard in his pants already.

“You boys should leave,” You say softly, tongue poking out to lick away the blood at the edges of your lips while your fingers remain wrapped tight around Steve's wrist, “Unless, of course, you'd like to watch?” You tease with a frightening grin.

Eddie meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look, “Well, sweetheart, as a matter of fact-”

“Nope, we're leaving!” Dustin interrupts, already dragging Eddie from the kitchen by the collar of his shirt, “Steve, be smart, alright? Don't make me regret this. Please don't die-”

Eddie shouts something vulgar that you don't quite catch over his shoulder just as the front door slams shut. The resulting silence is thick with sexual tension, Steve's pretty, doe-eyed gaze glued to where your lips are still pressed softly against the pads of his fingers.

When you collide it's in a frantic rush, wandering hands slipping beneath clothes and backsides slamming against walls. Distracted steps lead the both of you down the hallway, Steve's shirt discarded carelessly along the way the moment that the opportunity to do so is presented to you.

Your fingertips scrape through the soft brown curls littering his chest while Steve's mouth finds your jaw and neck, a tiny trail of damp kisses left in his wake. A light suck at your pulse point has a moan slipping past your lips, your feet tripping over the tops of his own as you corral him back into the bedroom where he'd hidden you away earlier.

The backs of Steve's knees meet the mattress and it only takes a weak shove from your unnaturally strong hands to have him toppling back onto the bed. Breath wooshes from his lungs and he watches intently while you crawl on top of him, your hands tracing the lines of his chest in a slow, deliberate touch before finding the sharp line of his jaw.

When Steve's gaze finally meets the intensity of your own he finds your pupils blown unnaturally wide, the color of your irises nothing but a thin sliver at the very edges of a sea of endless black.

His tongue meets the roof of his mouth as he makes to say something, anything, but the words are lost when your lips smash into his with an impatient tinge of hunger. A surprised moan gets caught in his throat for a moment before your hand falls to the bulging zip in his jeans, delicate fingers palming at his cock. He does moan then, embarrassingly loud and needy, though the sound is swallowed up by your own mouth as you use his parted lips as an opportunity lick inside of his mouth.

Your tongue is warm and wet — still dripping with the thick, coppery tang of blood mixed with something sickly sweet that he thinks might just be the intoxicating taste of your own spit.

It should be disgusting. The taste of the blood on your tongue should have his stomach twisting and his gag reflex triggering, but it does neither of those things. There's no real way to be sure whether it's some sort of otherworldly allure that you're emitting, or if he's simply so attracted to you that it's turned him into a fucking freak, but his cock is growing painfully hard beneath his jeans faster than it ever has in his goddamn life and the taste as your tongue strokes his own only seems to speed things along further.

Steve has one hand braced behind him to keep his chest pressed solidly against yours as you writhe and roll your hips down against the back of the hand you have teasing at the front of his jeans. The noises you're letting out have him a little dizzy, his blood rushing south in response to each pretty sound that you let fall into his pliant mouth.

Your hands scramble to undo the button and work tight denim down Steve's thighs, but you're eventually forced to extricate yourself from his lap to fully remove them, a tangled heap of denim and the cotton of his boxer briefs thrown to the other side of the room in another brief display of your slightly unnatural strength.

“Fuck.” Steve breathes when instead of climbing back into his lap after hastily removing your own clothes, you crawl toward him and settle between his knees. You blink up at him with dark eyes, crimson now smeared messily over your perfect lips, and Steve's cock all but jumps when his muscles tighten at the sight.

“I'm gonna suck your cock-” You tell him as the backs of your fingers just graze the length of his aching erection. Your gaze is locked on the thickness of him, hungrily eyeing the pulsing vein on the underside, the weeping slit where a string of precome is already shining over the head from just the light brush of your hand and the look in your eyes. “Because I need to taste you. But then I'm going to need you to fuck me.”

Your eyes finally flick up to meet his, and Steve is nodding wildly, “Yes, yeah! Okay, that's.. That sounds g-holyfuckingshit!” He groans through a gasp.

You don't savor in a tentative lick, don't even suck lightly at the tip like he's had girls do in the past to ease into it. You wrap your lips around his cock and immediately move to swallow down several inches of him, your throat tightening around the sensitive head as you gag yourself on his thick length.

You can smell the arousal seeping from each and every pore on his body, growing stronger and more intoxicating with every bob of your head and flick of your tongue. You hadn't thought it was possible, but it's a thousand times more delicious than his fear had been. It burns along your senses and prickles down the length of your spine until your head is a strange mix of hyper-focussed yet fuzzy at the edges.

Steve has to fight to keep his eyes from pinching shut in pleasure, to keep his head from falling back to bring his gaze to the ceiling. Missing even a single second of the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock feels like a crime of biblical proportions, so instead he brings shaking hands to your hollowed cheeks, collecting your hair until he can fist it in one hand. He whines pitifully at the unobstructed view of the drool and blood that your efforts have pooling at the base of his cock.

“Oh, holy shit,” Steve groans, his thumb stroking lightly over the edges of your lips as you pull off.

The second your mouth is occupied with only sucking at the tip, his thumb is pushing through the mess of blood and spit to hook past your lips alongside his cock. You don't stop working your mouth at the intrusion, rather, you expand your efforts to include the finger now rubbing at the inside of your cheek. Your tongue slides over the tip of his thumb before swirling around his leaking head, your jaw open as wide as it can go while you suck at every part of him that's stretching your mouth.

“Ah, fuck, you gotta-” Steve is whining, and he'd be embarrassed about it if he had the brain capacity to do anything aside from trying desperately not to come. His balls are drawn so tight, his cock is throbbing in the heat of your mouth with the need for release, "Honey, honey, I need you to stop or I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth and that-" He heaves a great sigh of pained relief when you pull off with a wet pop, "That would be a fucking travesty, because I really really wanna be inside you.”

You're wiping your mouth and chin off on the back of your hand, the lust-hazy weight of his gaze sparking a glimmer in your own.

“What are you waiting for then?” A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth even as your teeth dig sharply into your lower lip.

You're dragged up onto his lap in a rush, flipped onto your back until he's hovering over your naked body, his warm hands smoothing over every bit of your skin that he can. His eyes are clouded with arousal as wide palms trace the curve of your waist, the softness of your belly, the plush of your breasts.

Your legs part on instinct and his eyes drop at the movement, lips parting with his slack jaw as the wet seam of your cunt is exposed to him.

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Steve manages in a breathless murmur, “Jesus, look at you. Oh, holy shit, you're so wet.”

Thick fingers come within an inch of dragging through your folds before you're snatching his wrist with a firm grip and tugging him forward. He lands atop of you with a huff, one arm forced to brace behind your head and the other falling to rest on the side of your waist. You're settling him with a scathing look and he chokes on a shaky breath that fans out over your face.

His cock is hot and heavy against your lower belly, thick and long and curving up toward your navel. It still shines lightly with spit and blood and precome and your mouth nearly waters at the sight, your cunt clenching around nothing at just the thought of finally getting it inside of you.

“What?” He asks in confusion, “Was just gonna get you ready with my fingers. Should do that first, right? We don't want you hurting-”

“Now,” You demand, voice coming out leagues weaker and more desperate than intended, “I want you now. Need you. Now.”

“Fuck, I- Shit, okay, okay.” Steve gives in with wide eyes.

When he reaches down to line himself up with your sopping entrance, his hand is shaking so hard that he has half a mind to be embarrassed. But then his gaze flicks up to meet your own just as he begins to push his hips forward, and the flutter of your lashes in response to the stretch of his cock makes it a little hard for him to focus on anything other than how he might be able to make your eyes roll back again, or what euphoric expressions he's yet to see take over your beautiful face.

Once he's fully sheathed, he draws back and drives back in sharply, watching in awe as your jaw falls slack and you cry out.

“Just like that,” You gasp in approval, spine arching as you try to better the angle his hard thrusts to hit at just the right spot, “Shit, yes. Steve, fuck!”

The room is filled with the slick sounds of his cock as it works in and out of your cunt, the dull slap of his hips and hairy thighs meeting the insides of you own, the protesting creak of his bed frame as its joints struggle beneath all of the movement. Steve's breathing picks up just a little more with each thrust, a gasp turned groan working its way up his throat when you tangle a hand in the hairs that curl at the nape of his neck to drag him down for a kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else.

The barely there remnants of blood in your mouth meets Steve's tastebuds once again when he freely licks inside to capture the soft sounds falling from your lips and his cock twitches within your walls, brain spinning with just how perfect you feel and taste and sound.

“Fuck,” He pants into your waiting mouth, “You feel so fucking good, honey. S-Squeezing me so tight. Feels so fuckin' good, better'n anything I've ever felt.”

Each word of praise is dripping with his arousal when it meets the inside of your mouth, thick and delicious and a sort of cloying sweetness that reminds you of honey as it coats the back of your throat like a salve. The sounds falling from his mouth in combination with the sharp tang of his arousal that clings to the air with every breath you take — it has your head spinning. The low rasp of his moans sparks pleasure along your spine while the wet drag of his cock ignites the white-burning flame in the pit of your gut.

Despite his hooded eyelids, you can see how his own pupils have blown wide, those pretty pools of swirling brown overtaken with a darkness that leaves them looking so similar to your own.

“You're perfect,” Steve groans against your tongue, “So, so pretty right now, baby. Look so goddamn pretty taking my cock.”

His voice is ragged, desperate as his arms slip beneath your spine to press as close as he can. You're craving his touch just as much though, and it has you rolling your hips desperately to meet his. Your lips come together again in a frenzied collision, heightened arousal only causing that simmering need that pushes you cling to one another to boil over. Chest to chest, tongue on tongue, skin on skin.

The coarse hairs on his chest catch against your peaked nipples with every sharp jerk of his hips, his belly dragging against your own as your eyes roll back on a particularly well-angled thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan against his lips, fingers carding through the unreasonably soft strands of his hair.

Every inch where you're connected feels alight with flames. It feels as if nothing exists beyond this. Your mind is nothing more than a steady repetition of Steve, Steve, Steve — and you don't think that it's merely the sex. You think this might simply be the way that things will be from now on. Just you and Steve. His touch and taste and his fucking smell create a truly intoxicating combination, you want him like this always. Cheeks and neck pink and flushed with blood, glistening with sweat, panting and grunting and whining in response to your body.

Your orgasm is so, so close. You're already bearing down on him, muscles taught and brain a little fuzzy. The fingers in his hair tighten, the nails of your free hand scraping down his spine and leaving behind a trail of red streaks along the freckled expanse of his back. The sting drags another guttural moan from Steve's lips and your cunt flutters around him when your belly flips in response.

“God, honey,” Steve whispers in nearly a plea, hips jerking as he tries to keep a good rhythm going for you, “You close? ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can- Fuck.”

His scent at this very moment is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's heady and a little overwhelming, but so fucking delicious — if you could, you'd bottle it up just so that you could get a quick whiff of it whenever you wanted. The syrupy sweet arousal in the air only continues to thicken, filling up the air with each shaky thrust of his hips.

“God. Fill me up, Steve. Please?” You murmur with a groan as he punches deep into that spot that has your toes curling, your cunt sending a rush of slick arousal down the length of his cock and balls. “Want you to come, sweet boy. Need it. ‘n I need you to give it to me.”

“Fucking, s-shit-” Steve moans in response, hips stuttering and warmth filling you from the inside out as his cock jerks and he loses control, “Gonna.. Fucking..” A beautifully wrecked sounding moan interrupts him, “Gonna f-fuck my come so, so deep, honey.”

His slurred words have you keening, the thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock rubbing in a rough drag against the swollen bud of your clit when his thrusts melt into nothing more than deep grinds of his cock against your fluttering walls. The tight coil in your gut twists and stretches and then snaps suddenly, the tight vice that accompanies your own orgasm milking him for every drop he has to give.

He collapses against you once you've both drawn out your climaxes for as long as you possibly can, his temple pressed to your cheek. Your combined labored breathing fills the silence.

The warmth of Steve's sweaty skin is heaven, his weight pressing you into the mattress feeling so comforting and right that it leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed. His scent settles into something a little less obtrusive as he comes down, something that rushes into your lungs and curls sweetly in your chest.

Your hand cards soft through the damp locks of his hair, your lips finding his dewy skin to press a soft kiss to that space on his temple where you can feel his pulse throbbing softly with each beat of his heart. When Steve presses a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw in response to your own, you can't help the swarm of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

This sweet, handsome, recklessly kind young man that you're lucky enough to have in your arms.. You reckon that you might have to stick close to him — you think, perhaps a bit foolishly and entirely too hopefully, that you'd quite like to keep him.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #kinktober #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #*

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stupidlittlespirit · 12 days ago

Note

Please give us some Ford and medfetish head canons please 😭😭

I'm trying to keep my mind off of other stuff so I'm gonna get a little detailed under the hood to give myself a decent distraction..... If you know me irl and you see this then..... No you do not! Don't judge me, I am very normal and can be trusted at the doctor's office!

tw: medical fetish/experimentation fetish/anaesthesiology & drug administration/physical exams/dissection (potential gore?)/small and very vague mention of mild cnc under the influence of drugs

(this is all going to be post portal!Ford centric)

I think at a basic level, Ford would enjoy a good old fashioned doctor-patient roleplay.

He'd enjoy having his subject lie down on his examination table and go through the ins and outs of a standard health exam. He'd be kitted out, obviously: lab coat, mini torch, stethoscope, latex gloves, the whole shebang. I expect he might have a lot of biology-related equipment in the lab already from supernatural subject testing, but if he needed more specialist equipment he'd just order it ahead of schedule.

His subject would be nervous, of course; it's intimidating to be intimately exposed in a room where the only other person present is someone senior to you and is still fully dressed, but Ford would be quick to pick up on their little trembles and he'd reassure them that they'll be well taken care of.

I imagine he'd either film it or record the audio. Not sure why, just seems like it would be important to have for his 'records'.

Ford would start off with generalised stuff, including reflexes, before moving onto something more.... Erotic? Gag reflex, for example. He might use a notched, glass tongue depressor (these are pretty old school, they use wooden ones now I believe) to see how much the subject could take back into their throat, to test how deep they can swallow around the depressor. He'd use his torch to shine in to watch the subject's throat convulsions, too. I think he'd just appreciate watching the human body react.

Then, I think a breast exam would be fun for him. He'd measure and then go on to check the subject's nipple reflex etc, still monitoring and noting down the reaction to stimuli, both from his fingers and his mouth.

And of course, a gyno/penile inspection ("feet in the stirrups for me please, my dear...")

(This is going to focus on vaginal because anal is not for me, it is personally triggering for various reasons that I don't want to explain, but I understand that a Reader may prefer it or may not have a vagina, so try to just apply what I'm saying to anal instead of requesting I write it, just in case anyone planned to, thank you! :) )

Again, reflex and stimulation response, making sure everything is in working order. I imagine he'd expect to need to use lubricant of some kind but be pleasantly surprised that nothing is needed, so he'd move along onto penetrative response.

Fresh gloves applied and then we're onto digital penetration! Now, Ford Dr Pines would have some standards already set; One, two, three, four fingers? Easy peasy. He'd know that his subject could take that, that's amateur hour as far as he's concerned. What he'd be interested in is how much further could his subject stretch? Dr Pines has big hands, after all, with thick fingers, and with six of them he's going to be expecting to go big or go home. Pushing boundaries is his whole thing!

He'd ratchet the stirrups a little further apart and ease a fifth finger into his subject, moving them slowly and carefully until his subject is acclimatised to the width and taking them with ease. The entire time he'd be singing their body's praises, too. Not in a dominant way, but just in a genuine, loving 'I'm really into you, and biology in general' type of way.

He'd be sure to question his subject throughout the process, too. Just like a regular sexual health appointment he'd be requesting information on his subject's sex life and general health, most of them bordering on inappropriate in terms of details, but he'd assure them the inquiries were perfectly normal and to be expected.

Now, I'm not into fisting and so I'm not going to write that, but I think he'd be very pleased if he managed to get his entire hand inside his subject, just for a moment. There'd be something endlessly wonderful to him to see the one part of himself that is so personal to him meet with the most intimate part of his beloved subject.

I think he'd play with a little oral stimulation, too. I doubt I have to go into this too much, so I'll leave you with the concept of him applying varying pressures of mouth/suction stimulation and taking breaks to yap his observations to the camera/recorder, playing totally dumb to the way it's absolutely torturous for his subject to be wound up and denied release.

He'd pause if his subject was too wriggly, though, and probably put them in restraints. For their own safety and for his; this is delicate! He wouldn't want his subject to hurt themselves.

For penile inspection, it would be very similar. Sensation testing and sperm production would be test-worthy to him.

And then he'd go about doing a general check up, the normal sort of stuff that you'd expect etc etc, until he'd lead it into sex.

I actually think he'd prefer to jerk himself off while he performed each test, as opposed to going into full penetrative sex with his subject. Not to say he wouldn't like that, but I just find watching masturbation to be much hotter sjsdhdhsjsjd

Now. To the more intense stuff:

Gags are used sometimes in medfet. They tend to be close to/or are professional dental equipment, such as a Jennings gag or similar. Personally, however, I think Dr Pines would quite enjoy engineering some of his own creations....

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with equine dental spectrums (not many, I'm sure) but they're weird devices that I've been kind of obsessed with since I got to use one on a horse years and years ago (a visiting equine dentist let me, a student at the time, help out with my own horse's check-up and it was very cool and interesting!). Now, these things are big, obviously, and clunky. Google McPherson speculum (sfw). The part that forces the mouth open can be cranked to a preferred width, and there are metal troughs that cup the horse's front teeth and prevent cutting the vet's arm.

So, let's say our lovely Dr Pines decided to engineer a smaller, customised McPherson speculum for his subject. He'd create one that wrapped around his subject's head and parted their mouth nice and wide for him. Maybe

He'd lower his exam bed until his subject was laying prostrate and inspect their throat and molar teeth. This would probably be a variation on the basic oral exam I talked about at the start, just with harsher equipment. Cue gag tests, possibly with a proper, more phallic shaped, glass instrument. Maybe even his own cock. Depends on his fancy.

Another area is needle play/play piercing. He might be interested in sensation play with them or just simply enjoy the aesthetic of them. We could get weird with it and include some suspension flesh hook stuff, but I think that kind of stuff would be more suited to research era!Ford, for obvious reasons..... It's quite extreme.

Anaesthesia play, for me, is also interesting. Now, in real life, you don't use actual drugs. You'd use hypnotic suggestion, poppers, OTC sleepy pills or breathplay etc. But with Dr Pines? Well, you'd be in safe enough hands to risk dabbling with some groovy substances.... He wouldn't want his subject out cold, however. Just on the cusp.

Ever had gas and air? Well, I have (in a medical context), and it's kind of very fun. It made me feel lightheaded and woozy, and really giggly. It's basically a whippit (no idea if this is much of a thing outside of the UK??) and although you really shouldn't use them in a recreational context, they're not going to kill you if you use them once or twice under the right supervision. (do not condone, do not do this! *wags finger*)

I think Dr Pines would enjoy plying his subject with some delicious nitrous oxide until they were well and truly under the influence, and then either engaging in sex/orgasm extraction whilst they were restrained on the examination table or.....

He'd move from there into cutting: So, cutting is what it sounds like. Typically, a person would make small, shallow incisions with a scalpel and do some blood play etc, then bandage or sew them up. But because this is la la land, Dr Pines is going to go further than that.

Dr Pines would prefer to administer gas to relax his subject, then numb an entire area (let's say his subject's forearm) and dissect it. He'd want to see the inner machinations of his subject's body, to see how they really ticked and also, there's something very romantic about knowing your lover literally inside out, imo.

Now I know irl a person would probably pass out if they saw their insides for real, but this is fiction and Dr Pines' subject is tough. They're going to be into it. Like, I N T O it.

And then he'd lovingly stich his subject back up and nurse them back to health through aftercare.

I know, I know, this is surgery-level shit. This is not practical. I do not care. I want him to open me up and rummage around in there. I think it'd be cool.

Scenarios to apply medfet to:

Doctor-patient

Dentist-patient

And my personal favourite is always going to be: mad scientist-test subject and unethical experiments, hence the use of 'subject' instead of patient throughout this whole answer lol. It suits him too well to ignore. I'm sure you agree.

I could also apply this with Ford as the test subject too. As I mentioned previously, I think a little fic where he's the one who is picked up by a curious alien scientist and tested on would be fun, too. It would give me room to play with him being submissive..... Food for thought.

We'll have a little doctor-patient play in the Spores sequel, though it won't be a proper kink set up, but I am probably going to write a full play scene inspired by this post. This was fun to think about and it's got me imagining more about this kind of stuff now.

I have no idea if this was what you meant when you sent this ask, so I'm sorry if this wasn't quite what you were looking for but I hope it's at least a bit fun! :) I had fun and I really needed this distraction. So thank you, anon.

#i've never engaged in medfet myself but i have friends who are pro-dommes and they do it regularly #it looks very fun tbh #do NOT perceive me if you know me irl this is all an elaborate dream and nothing you read here is real #asks #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #reader insert #ford asks #i spent like 2 hours on this lmao

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wangxianficfinder · 11 months ago

Text

Curses, Potions, and Spells (Oh my)

~*~

Curses

shape me something new by perilously (E, 24k, WangXian, Sharing a Body, set in CQL canon but inspired by the novel, Non-Penetrative Sex, Masturbation, (kind of), Slight Canon Divergence, some horror-adjacent imagery)

come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, lesbian wq rights, Music, Orchestra, platonic and romantic pining)

pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)

Stainless by Fahye (E, 6k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat)

as amber of ember glows by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, First Time, Miscommunication, Aphrodisiacs, pining for the person you're fucking, Getting Together, mostly)

miss me once the thrill expires by idrilka (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern With Cultivation, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Curses, Sex Pollen, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms, first time barebacking, Face-Fucking)

Say So by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 15k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Fucking Your Best Friend, Light Dom/sub, extreme orgasm denial wanxgian edition, Dirty Talk, Love Confessions)

🔒Embers by xantissa (E, 38k, WangXian, XiXian, WangXianXi, Jadecest, Angst, drama, Fluff, Falling In Love, sex pollen trope (curse), dub con, Comfort, Grief, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Sibling Incest, Switching, Flirting, Learning to live again, Magic, Curses, Everyone is Badass, lwj has a sense of humor, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)

So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend (E, 13k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Confessions, Drunkenness)

❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

🔒How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)

with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

Of Curses and Cottontails by Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, burial mounds settlement days, curses, animal transformation, rabbit LWJ, angry bunji, fluff & humor, fix-it, golden core reveal)

🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 13k, wangxian, curses, curse breaking, mermaids, fix-it of sorts, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, secrets, confessions, hurt/comfort, golden core transfer fix-it, genius WWX)

Lover's Curse by littlesystems (E, 15k, WangXian, Fuck Or Die, Dubcon implicit in fuck or die, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Cultivation Sect Politics, Brotherly Meddling, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Bruising, Overstimulation)

The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst)

🧡 moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)

🔒 the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, Ensemble Cast, Animal Transformation, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of a glucose guardian vibe actually, Fairy Tale Elements, Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, they're soft, Secret Identity, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining)

The Sun Will Rise series by vespertineflora (E, 129k, wangxian, Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Human/Monster Romance, Tentacle Monsters, Plant Monsters, Tentacle Sex, vine sex, Vines, Monster LWJ, Human WWX, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Happy Ending, Groping, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Prostate Massage, First Time, Multiple Orgasms, The Cloud Recesses Rabbits, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Homesickness, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Overstimulation, BAMF WWX, Stabbing, Near Death, Poisoning, Protective LWJ, Seduction, Aphrodisiacs, Snow and Ice, ,Snowball Fight, Lost Love, Falling In Love, Drunken Kissing, Sex Pollen, Submission, Subspace, Multiple Penetration, Love Confessions, full body restraint, Emotional Sex, Reincarnation, Sounding, Urethral Play, Prostate Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Shameless Smut)

🧡 Kitty-cat by canis_lupus (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, dom LWJ, Sub WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jiang Family Dynamics, Abusive Jiang Family, POV Multiple, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Masturbation)

Breaking the Silence by Leffy (E, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Rimming, Come as Lube, temporary mute wwx is still a gremlin)

~*~

Potions (includes poisons)

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people's lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc)

🔒Truths Laid Bare For All by Preludian_Staves (T, 42k, wangxian, arranged marriage, not Jiang friendly, truth serum, love confessions, golden core reveal, implied referenced abuse, getting to know each other, genius WWX, falling in love, courting, WIP)

pomegranates for the softest parts of you by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, LWJ Has a Crush, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Courting Rituals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Dorks in Love, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mind Manipulation, Manipulation, JC and LWJ Dislike Each Other, Good Sibling JC, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt, Supportive LXC, Supportive Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Metaphorically Qì-Deviates, Mentioned Madam Lán, Blood, Fainting, Soft WangXian, Cute WangXian, Dubious Consent, Feelings Realization)

Truth to Tell by SequoiaSempervirens (M, 3k, WangXian, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, silliness, Truth Serum, Kidnapping, Worried LWJ, Protective LWJ)

🔒After Truth Lies the Honest Path by Vrishchika (M, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Truth Serum, Angry WWX, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Mild Angst, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Getting Together)

Potion by UglyBeautiful (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, College/University, Witchcraft, Love Potion/Spell, Idiots in Love, LWJ Has a Big Dick, LWJ has a very dirty mind, Anal Sex, Rimming, Compulsory Heterosexuality, licking vegan marshmallow paste off a naked body, Happy Ending, Scheming NHS, Ghost familiar with many guises NHS)

Love potion and a remedy for the heart. by satans_dolly_boy666 (G, 2k, XiXian, WangXian, Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Brotherly Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Friendship/Love, Declarations Of Love, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealous LWJ, Protective LXC, Oblivious WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Supportive Sibling LXC, Soft LXC, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eventual WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Crack, Attempt at Humor)

scope and limitations by mercurials (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, chemistry major wwx, Love Potion/Spell, Fluff, Mutual Pining)

At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine by KatAnni (T, 11k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, Fainting, Angst, Poisoning, JZN is an asshole, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, a little poisoning will solve all your problems!, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Attempted Murder, Everyone Lives AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence)

~*~

Spells (includes talismans/arrays)

The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

hope dangling by a string by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

🔒I am sorry for taking your voice by misterfish (G, 8k, WIP, WWX/OMC, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Remorse LWJ, Mute WWX, Jiāng Family Bashing, Past Child Abuse)

Couldn't Scream Couldn't Shout by mermorgie (T, 42k, WIP, WangXian, Not for jc stans, Muteness, Sign Language, references to selective mutism, Homophobic JC, canon jc characteristics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Pining, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Supportive Sibling LXC, JZX Tries, LQR Tries, Protective JZX, Scheming NHS, Bisexual JZX, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Jiāng Family Bashing)

Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)

on his best bee-haviour (pun very much intended) by HeavenlySkyfarer (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern With Cultivation, Humor, Fluff, Good Uncle LQR, Gremlin WWX, Bees, Established WangXian)

all the broken things that I made by ilip13 (E, 43k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, (then back to lovers I'm not a monster), Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, But mostly not in the way you might expect - see notes for details, Explicit Sexual Content, Bondage, Flirting, Competence Kink)

~*~

#wangxian #wangxianficfinder #curses poisons and spells (oh my) compilation #mdzs #the untamed #long post

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anamazingangie · 1 year ago

Text

Ménage | Rhaenyra x Aegon x Aemond

🕯️ Rated E 🕯️4.2k words 🕯️ Complete 🕯️ by AmazingAngie🕯️

Tags: Historical AU, Sibling Incest, Manipulation, Underage Kissing, First Kiss, First Times, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Dom!Rhaenyra, Coming of Age, Consent Issues, Rhaenyra-Centric, Threesome - F/M/M

Warning: sex between minors [fifteen and seventeen when it begins]. Summary:

Rhaenyra despised her siblings, a pair of twin boys two year her junior - at least until she realized they would do things for her. Anything for her. The realm of such things changed as they matured, and in time Rhaenyra's hormones left her feeling rather fond of the pair she had previously merely tolerated. His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” or: rhaenyra is either a very good, or very bad sister, depending on who you ask.

One

At first, Rhaenyra had hated her brothers.

She lacked any and all maternal instincts towards infants, and so she lacked any and all patience for their screams and stench and all other annoyances that came with their mere existence. It was only made worse by the fact there were two of them. Two boys.

Truly, if looks could kill, they would have been found dead in their cradles just hours after she met them. Nevermind that she herself was only two at the time, she was old enough to hold enough to know her dislikes, old enough to hold a grudge and certainly old enough to hate them on first impression alone.

And first impressions mattered a great deal.

And so, her feelings towards them did not change, not for years.

By the age of seven, Rhaenyra had earned the title of Realm’s Delight. She was known on the small island of Dragonstone and among their people for her beauty, boisterous spirit, and impeccable��slightly frightening—skills on horseback.

And it wasn’t just the people who were awed by the princess—but rather her brother’s, too. The pair had been five then, old enough to care what other people thought of them.

Old enough to know their sister did not care for them.

Old enough that they wanted her too.

And Rhaenyra…she was old enough to see this.

Smart enough to use this for her benefit.

And really really, it was a kindness when she gave them such opportunities to improve her opinion of them.

And so, she would have them fetch her lemonade or tea or servants.

She would have them steal cakes and pastries from the kitchens on her behalf.

Sometimes she would tell the groom she wanted to brush down Syrax and that they were excused.

It wasn’t a lie, and she would brush down Syrax. But the other tasks that were expected to go along with this—such as beating dust from the saddle blanket, conditioning the leather of her reins, and polishing bits—were ones she’d give to her brothers.

And they would fight for the tasks. Competitive over the mere opportunity to impress her.

She liked that.

She took advantage of it.

But who could blame her, when they liked it too?

Fondness for them grew very slowly. She still treated them more like her servants than her siblings, truly, but by the time she was ten she could acknowledge she would be sad if something happened to them.

When they were ten, they were mourning the fact they would have to leave Dragonstone to attend the Crownlands College that all Targaryen men claimed as their alumni, at least since its founding in the 300s. After all, their family—then ‘the crown’ for all of Westeros—had founded the institution.

She was jealous that they were getting a proper schooling, simply because they were boys. Why shouldn’t she have such an opportunity? She was much smarter. Er, at least smarter than Aegon. Aemond was rather annoying bookish, she knew that from their shared lessons. He could beat her at sums despite her being years older.

It was true her lessons from a septa and maester’s who taught her just as much as the private college would, if not more, it didn’t seem fair.

And on top of that, though she didn’t admit to them—or to herself, really—that she might miss them too.

They had only been gone for three moons when word came—Aemond had been injured rather horribly in a fight. He and his brother were being returned to Dragonstone by the fastest ship their father’s coin could buy, to be attended by the maester’s their own keep had in residence.

Even then, it wasn’t enough to save the eye.

They worried infection would spread and he might lose all his sight. If not his life from fever that could poison his blood.

Rhaenyra didn’t cry. She didn’t. But her voice might have wavered when she spoke to Aemond after hearing this—unwilling to let the horrors of what had happened to him change her treatment of him.

On the matter of his potential blindness, all she had to say was, “Just think—you have been blessed to see a face as pretty as mine for a decade—that is more beauty than most men get to see in their lifetime.”

His face was bandaged, and the sliver of eye she could see was cloudy from the high dose of the milk of poppy he was being given for the pain. But he still managed a tiny smile. Tiny for him, even, which was impressive given how he tended to hide them. So different from Aegon, whose face was often dressed in a wide grin.

“Isn’t it all the more tragic, if i’ve seen such beauty and now have to go without?” He said, his voice sounding small and dry and not like him at all. She wanted to cover his lips with her palm, tell him not to talk until he sounded as he should again. Until he sounded strong.

“I suppose, then, you must fight—insist to your body and self that you require sight. Perhaps it will permit you to keep it.” She told him.

“I’m not as stubborn as you, sister, I’m not sure I can.” He admitted.

She huffed, “Consider it a command then—and I know you wish not to disappoint me.”

He swallowed, and his eyelid fluttered shut. She wondered if she even heard her, but then he nodded slightly and said, “Okay.”

His recovery was surprisingly swift, and infection never came.

Aegon said it was because Rhaenyra visited so often she scared it away. That earned him a glare.

“I’m the scary one? Your delusions do you no justice, brother, clearly you forget your twin is a bloodied cyclops!” She screeched.

“See!” He had claimed, nearly victorious, “Now you shriek like a banshee!”

“Banshees herald the dead, brother, if I sound like one, perhaps you should be concerned for yourself.” She said, primly.

He paled and scurried from the room.

Rhaenyra thought if Aegon was the one who had been injured, she would not have been so attentive.

He was certainly the most objectionable of her siblings, at least, in all but looks. He had a sweet boyish face that promised to turn into something handsome. Aemond’s features, however, were longer and his expression rather solemn. They were very different—and no matter what she told herself, she would be unable to choose between them if forced to.

When her courses came, they came to her.

They had questions. They had badgered a poor serving girl into admitting Rhaenyra was bed bound for her monthlies.

Of course, they had come running to ask Rhaenyra what monthlies were. The end result was their expressions—a mixture of horror and intrigue.

“You’re bleeding?” Aemond said, rather stunned. “Does it hurt?” He wondered.

She shifted her hips and nodded, “Mhm, but not…not like a wound, rather a great deal of pressure in my abdomen.

“Does it bleed from there?” Aegon wondered, with a vague gesture to her stomach and a far off expression on his face.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “My navel is not a facet you imbecile, no, it’s—” she flushed, looking down at her lap but carrying on, “It’s between my legs.” She admitted.

Their eyes widened. “Can we see?” Aegon asked.

Rhaenyra sputtered, finding herself at a loss for words.

She settled on a classic response to Aegon’s questions: throwing a book at him.

She had always been rather tactile with her brother’s, in a way she wasn’t—and wasn’t permitted to be—with others. She hadn’t thought much of it, they were siblings, and in a way they were her…well, it would be bad form to call them her serfs for she did not own them, but as their older sister she felt rather entitled to them in every way, and they had little protest to this.

So they touched.

She did not ask before grabbing their arm, or sitting next to them, close enough that they knew the feeling of the other’s thigh against their own. She’d crawled into bed with them on stormy nights, tackled them to the ground during games of tag, and shoved them off the cliffs on warm summer days when they were too fearful to dive from them without help.

It had never meant anything at all. It was just the way of things, the way she treated them.

It didn’t change as they grew older.

Maybe it should have.

Aegon was, in her opinion, being an insufferable little jit. He refused to mount his mare, Sunfyre, even though they had agreed over breakfast to ride at this hour.

“I can’t.” He moaned, shifting awkwardly with his hands awkwardly at his crotch.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why can’t you?” She asked.

He flushed, before admitting he was hard and when that was hard it was like his whole body was stiff.

“I don’t believe you.” She said, and then, “You’ll have to show me it.”

His cheeks were flaming but he obeyed, unlacing his breeches and freeing the tunic that was cut long enough to cover his loins. Sure enough, the dangly bit she’d seen between her brother’s legs in childhood—when they were young enough it was not inappropriate, mind you—had managed to grow and harden into something rather…well…she was blushing now.

“Ugh. Put it away.” She said, turning to Syrax and hiding her rosy cheeks. “I shall take her to the meadow while that…you…whatever.” She said, mounting her saddle and leaving before he could respond.

She thought about it. More than she probably should. She was a curious girl, she wanted to know how it worked.

It was night time, a few days after that incident, and she slipped into her brothers’ rooms, pulled the covers from Aegon’s nearly nude form, and demanded to see it.

His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic.

He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed.

She wanted to touch.

She wanted to taste.

She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.”

Aemond’s was different from his brother’s—longer, leaner, not unlike the rest of their forms. Disappointedly, he was too shy to touch himself in front of her, saying he was too embarrassed to stay hard.

Well. Then she would have to make him get hard.

He flinched when she stroked the soft skin, wrinkled and deflated as it lay against his thigh instead of in the stiff erection it had formed a moment ago.

She wanted her brothers to reach their full potential, always. And wasn’t their full length part of that?

He told her no.

She reminded him that he never told her that. She was his older sister.

He had to obey her. He liked obeying her.

“Please?” She finally said, and he nodded.

He grew harder in her hand, and she kept stroking, fascinated by the difference in feel and weight in her palm, it seemed to throb where it had once been so very soft. It was as if the appendage pounded with its need for release, the sound nonexistent but almost like a tune in her head, the beat of which drowned out Aemond’s pleas, his sounds of pleasure, and even the sound of his release.

She did taste it this time, a curious lick on the white goo that had spilled across his penis and her palm.

She’d always had a sweet tooth, but no matter how this resembled the drizzle on iced buns, it had no such flavor.

It was salty.

Gross.

A week later, Aegon kissed a maid. Their father’s hand, Ser Otto Hightower, who was also Aegon’s grandfather, caught them in the halls. This led them to all getting lectures on the matters of intimacy outside of marriage. On the matter of it being a dire sin.

Rhaenyra hardly heard the septas' words on this matter. She was vibrating with…rage? Jealousy? She wasn’t sure. She just knew the reason for this lecture on the horrors that were intimate interludes out of wedlock were prompted by Aegon’s actions. His intimate interlude. One that did not involve her.

She was Aegon’s older sister and yet she did not know what it was to kiss. But still, surely it should be her duty to teach him such a thing.

Surely she should be his first kiss.

Surely he should suffer for depriving her of this.

She ignored him for the rest of the day. He hated being ignored.

Then, after changing for bed, she slipped into their shared chambers. Both boys were awake, and on this occasion she slunk past Aegon in pursuit of Aemond.

She would have his first kiss.

He would never know it was her first kiss, too.

And Aegon would simply have to watch.

Eventually he begged and whined to the point where his eyes were red and his nose was snotty. So spoiled. Even though he deserved this for his crime—of seeking a girl other than his sister—she thought he’d been punished enough.

When she kissed him that night, his lips were just as soft as Aemond’s, but they were different, too. He was more forward, more confident—that didn’t come from practice, she didn’t think, but rather his enthusiasm and recklessness that his brother lacked.

And, of course, his lips tasted of his tears. Salty, though in a way far more pleasant than the taste of seed.

Or perhaps the taste was not so different.

Perhaps she just enjoyed the flavor more when it came from sorrow.

And Aegon was so pretty when he cried.

Both of them grew to expect her kisses—not only when they were in close proximity, but as a reward for bringing her something or completing a favor.

She thought they were like hounds, expecting a bit of jerky as a treat for being good.

She played with them as if they were hounds, finding great amusement in promising her lips to whichever sat with the best posture or heeled with the greatest obedience.

Sometimes she insisted on their nudity in this, for how else could she examine the straightness of their spine and set of their shoulders?

It had nothing to do with her curiosity of the male form. Of course not.

Though, she would admit to being curious over how their forms changed, their height and structure seeming to grow as they slept if not right before her eyes.

It seemed just as she had come to terms with having siblings—having brothers—she would have to come to terms with her brothers becoming men.

Aegon found the book. Of course he did.

While Aemond was studious in his lessons, Aegon searched the library for hidden treasure, an indiscretion he’d practiced for years. Despite this, there were still shelves that had not suffered his scrutiny, for the room and its contents were rather vast.

Of course, some of the cases he had looked over with careful eyes long ago needed to be examined once more, now that he was older. For as a boy he was rather blind—or rather, had a different definition—to what treasure truly was.

It was a small book, but not shamefully so. It was bound in bright red leather, stamped in gold, and though it lacked an author's name on the title page, the title itself was too distracting for any of them to care;

A Collection of Erotic Postures

They were all varying shades of pink as each page was turned, the black and white engravings lacking color but bringing to light so many things. It was fascinating how the forms fit together.

Man and woman.

Nymph and satyr.

Woman and woman.

Man and man.

At first they spoke over their examination of the engravings—sharing their shock with each page that passed. But soon their shock was implied by mere gasps, and no words were shared until the end was reached and the book was closed.

It was inevitable that they would eventually grow curious enough to try one.

With the light now so very bright, how could they not wish to bring some of the acts to life?

Rhaenyra pointed to the sketch on page eight, captioned with;

Cunnilingue.

[stimulation to the cunnus via leikhein]

Aegon obliged.

She was slightly surprised, but not displeased by any means, to find that she felt little embarrassment or feelings of self consciousness in front of her brother’s—even with her skirts bundled in her lap, her legs spread, and Aegon’s face buried in the seam that led to her core.

She felt other things though. Good things. Things that had her fingers digging into Aegon’s curled locks and desperately trying to stifle gasps because gods be good this was—

When it was over, Aegon trailed his fingers through the mess, “You’re leaking, still, sister.”

She said nothing. If she was capable of speech at all, it didn’t matter, for she did not have the ability to find words to respond with, not in that moment.

She should have tried, though, for Aegon was rather smug and took charge while her wits were absent—“You should clean her up, Aemond.” He suggested.

She wasn’t worried, he was much too shy to follow his brother's suggestion.

Or so she thought.

He wasn’t as enthusiastic as Aegon, not as messy, either. He nuzzled her with his nose first—seeming to inhale her scent before he set about cleaning all that had spilled from her. It was rather ineffective, though, with how she peaked again in the process.

After that, speech was not the only thing that left her. She also found it rather difficult to walk.

…that did not stop her from demanding this act again the next day.

One day, the boys fought over who could have the pleasure of tasting her.

She rolled her eyes, they were closer to men now yet still acting like children and she was tired of it. She had just come to tolerate them as brother’s but she had no desire to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m now longer in the mood.” She said, dropping her skirts and crossing her arms.

Aegon sputtered, whereas Aemond just looked sad.

“I mean it, too. If you want to taste lips of any sort today your only option is each other’s.”

She hadn’t really expected them to take this as a command—or perhaps they didn’t, they were just waiting for any mention of such a thing so they could have this opportunity.

Regardless, the outcome was the same, and they wasted little time in joining their lips.

They didn’t part their lips until after they had rut together and spilled in their breeches.

Rhaenyra was…not jealous, exactly, but rather awed by the site of them together. For as annoying as her brothers could be, she had always known they were good looking. But this was somehow intensified several times over when they were together like this.

No, if anything, her frustration stemmed from the fact they had so much clothing on, rather than jealousy.

Perhaps, though, she was a little aroused.

That night, she told Aegon to feast on her folds until she came—then to share her flavor with his brother, using the vessel of his tongue.

They became hard during—of course they did, everything made them hard.

Boys.

Men.

Brothers.

She told them to take care of the unsightly stiffened lengths, and despite the flush that spread across Aemond’s cheeks she knew from the show that morning that he was not opposed.

But first, she demanded they remove their sleep clothes. She wanted to see it. See the pulse of their cocks when they came. The ropes of white seed across their pale skin, shining in the moonlight.

She wanted to see them lick it up with their greedy tongues, pink muscle lapping at light skin until the essence was gone and only saliva remained.

They did.

After—well, her arousal had bloomed to the point where she demanded Aemond’s mouth, too.

They fucked each other long before her. Fears of pregnancy making her weary of having their lengths in her cunt.

But it was not as if that was the only entry she had…in fact, this was detailed in the red book that they studied with more faithfulness than they ever had to the Seven.

The engravings showed the act, which involved what they called the,

‘Quim of every human—man and woman, tucked between the cheeks of one's arse.

This hole does not weep the way of a woman’s sheath, it must be greased or oiled — when adequately done,

the receptacle will still squeak, but they will not suffer.’

It spoke the truth. Aegon did squeak as his brother tentatively worked his long fingers into his parted cheeks.

He had to stifle screams when fingers were replaced by Aemond’s cock.

And so, this became a new game they played.

She watched them for weeks before deciding to partake. Aegon was enthusiastic in getting her ready, where Aemond was tentative about pressing into her. But in the end they were all breathless—well, except for Aegon, who wasted no time in taking his brother’s place inside her, his path lubricated by his siblings' seed.

It was good, the feeling of being stretched. Of being filled.

She wanted such a sensation somewhere else.

She had them—one after the other—in her cunt on her seventeenth name day. It was dangerous, she knew, but she had found notes in a midwifery book that spoke to safe times of the month, calculated by the days following a woman’s courses. And so she had tracked them dutifully for months until there was enough consistency she felt confident.

Even still, she told them they had to pull out. Her cunt would not taste their seed until she was married.

They obeyed, just as they always did.

Aegon went first, licking her until she came before pressing inside of her—the intrusion one that made them both groan with pleasure. His thrusts were uneven and it was over fast but she could see how one could find pleasure in this act, given enough practice.

He spilled across her stomach, before Aemond took his place.

He was longer.

The differences in their cocks was obvious when you looked at them, or felt them with your palm. She’d forced their lengths together as they stood, stroking and admiring the width of Aegon’s next to the length of Aemond’s. As if they had the same mass but were formed into different shapes, the same while not being even remotely similar. Quite like the men the appendages belonged to.

What she knew of their lengths before this was that Aegon’s was more of a challenge to get in, given the width of it. But once deep enough to slide with ease, she thought any intrusion in her rear felt rather the same.

But this.

She understood now, why women were meant to be penetrated here. Every drag of his cock lit up pathways of nerves inside her that made her clench and shiver. She felt the precise shape of him inside of her, the length, the curve, and it all culminated in her peaking—a moment before he pulled from her and spilled across her folds.

Both of them were prompt in how they licked up their seed, lilac eyes looking at her heaving bosom as she attempted to catch her breath, all while they continued to dine upon the masculine syrup coating her creamy flesh.

For their sixteenth birthday, she had them both.

Gods.

She did not believe in any faith, really, but this almost made her think some higher power existed. Why else would they bestow men and women with such parts that fit together like this? That felt so good?

She had never felt more powerful in that moment, when she was pressed between them, speared on both of them….and yet she had never felt more vulnerable, either, for she realized how small she now was compared to their forms. They had grown to a point where they could defy her commands, but they didn’t, and she trusted them, even with her body and something like this.

And for that reason, at that moment, she had never felt closer to them—and not just because she was full of their cocks, with lips pressing kisses to either side of her neck. Though she rather liked that part of this, too.

It was difficult enough to orchestrate that they were only able to have each other this way a handful of times in the following few months. But they hardly went unsatisfied, not with the engravings to guide them and their mouths and fingers eager to thrust when time or locale did not allow for a cock.

It was shaping up to be a rather blissful year, she thought.

And then, their father died.

story notes:

the "book" was inspired by later takes on the I Modi, a very erm, inspired, renaissance work with detailed engravings of numerous positions.

this was supposed to have a chapter two in which daemon returned to dragonstone and claimed the title for himself...along with his. brother's children. but due to lack of interest i've scrapped it for now.

#hotd #fanfic #ao3 #house of the dragon #Rhaenyra Targaryen #fic #a03 #HOTD #Angie writes #rhaegon #rhaemond #rhaenyra x aegon #rhaenyra x aemond #rhaenyra x aemond x aegon #greencest #twins #siblings #f/m/m #aegon/aemond

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