#A PEAL MAKES ME THE MOST ........

[jin0]

Of Love, Lust and Wasted Time - Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Pairing : Prince!Nicholas Alexander Chavez X Princess!Reader

Summary : It had been a month since your wedding to Prince Nicholas. He hadn’t performed his marital duties yet. Was there a problem ? Yes. Would you communicate ? No. Would you sneak into his chambers at night in your sleeping gown ? Yes.

Warning : 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, fingering, lots of making out, titty sucking, clit sucking, pussydrunk nicholas, virgin reader, experienced nicholas, arranged marriage, cussing, slight pussy eating, slight size kink (I review the story and funnily enough, their was nothing slight about that one), slight cervix abuse, marking, talk of bedding ceremony, talk of traditional medieval marriage I guess, meant to be vanilla, don’t know if I got there.

A/N : that man’s a slut, love that. also, I promise she’s not a pick me, just really sheltered.

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The customs would have it that on the very night of a maiden’s wedding she would perform the act of consummation first in front of the highest members of the court to prove her purity and then proceed with the act for her lord husband’s eyes only.

But this wasn’t a fucking barn, and people would learn to do things with manners.

Or at least, that had been the way Prince Nicholas had put it when the councilmen had insisted upon it during the wedding preparation. Their insistence upon watching the soon to be queen being defiled could’ve been equated to regular old traditions and care for traditions. The princess herself believed it to be what it was, old men hungry to devour with their eyes and feast on the most embarrassing moment of her life.

She would curse her mother and maids for the rest of her life for not having taught her the basics on what was expected of a wife or what would go into these “nightly performance” she would have to endure. Part of her knew better though, not only because her mother would pull her by the ears until they pealed off and not only because it was unbecoming of a young girl to complain but also because she had done everything in order to not follow the regular education that highborn ladies had to follow.

Because the princess had chosen to be none other than a prince.

As overly simplified as it was, it was the clearest way to express the life she lived or life as she lived it. Less than a choice, it was simply what made sense. From the moment she could stand on her two feet she was made to run after her brothers rather than walk slowly and with poise like a lady would. She was meant to chase and scream and throw herself at the nearest danger because what was danger for the crown but the daily life of any of the people they ruled over ?

While she learned to wield the sword, mount the horse and shoot arrows, she also learned what it would entail to be a princess, one day to be married. And seeing some of the men offering themselves to become her husband, she did regularly wish a battle would kill her first. A battle, or the trouble her mouth would get her into. Of course, she had learned and knew all there was to know. All except that. Sex.

With a father like hers, with a mother like hers, she was almost certain she would never marry so why waste her time learning about sex, right ? Luckily appearing like a good omen, Nicholas did not simply see himself as worthy. The initial discussion had not even concerned a marriage proposal.

When he had arrived in the neighboring kingdom, his proposal concerned trades and the opening of a route through his seas in exchange for three troupes of their best soldiers to be sent into his realm and help the thieving crisis raging through his lands. It was true that the knights of your home were known to be the greatest there ever was, loyal and strong, one of them could equate to a fleet of ten. Of course anyone would want them.

And he had wanted her too. As soon as she had walked in, dragging his lord commander by the cloak for blocking the way to the council room.

She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, she just wanted to make sure her father was fine and so were her brothers. The man at the door was unfamiliar and truth be told, rather rude. It was a misunderstanding and her response was unwarranted. She had apologized, the prince had laughed. Surprising response.

For the rest of the meeting, she had been allowed to stay and she would’ve focused on the information being shared and the heated debate between both councils had she not been busy staring at the man she knew to be staring holes into her. His heated gaze felt like the sun shining directly unto her, melting away her mind and the mere thought of reason. She felt herself crumbling in on herself the longer she sat there to be undressed in public.

He hadn’t intended to stare with such insistence. He had even tried to look away, attempting to return to the discussion. He had. Had it ever been so difficult to look away from a woman ? Never, not when thousands of them had vied for his attention since he had come of age. Yet here he was, victim to his passions, digging into her flesh with his eyes, trying to move on from the gust of wind which had blew his way when she had walked into the room, carrying the sweet scent of honey. He had wanted nothing more but to leap to her feet and run his nose along her soft neck to engorge himself in her sweetness.

She hadn’t known whether to curse her father or thank him for offering them to stay longer than intended, stay until they reached an agreement on the details of their agreement. He had spent the night and from afar she was almost certain she could feel the heat of his body next to hers, warmth radiating through the dinner they had shared and through the halls of the castle, from his chambers to hers.

He hadn’t spent a better night, sitting in his bed, kept awake by the thought of the divine princess sleeping only meters away, peaceful yet clawing at his mind as if a parasitic fungus taking power over his body. She awoke every molecule forming his being, all aware of one another, uncomfortably held together by nothing but a thread of desire and melting resolve. Poor prince who wished to be back home in that moment, in the privacy of his quarters, far from prying eyes and then need to keep up appearances. Poor Nicholas who wished he could stroke his hardened cock all night, relieved of the ache burning in his loins, and ruining him from the inside.

With very little sleep in his system and his mind and body banding together against his better judgement, he had not moved from the position he had been occupying for hours now, but his head had snapped towards the door when he had heard the noise outside his door, footsteps as light and almost inaudible, had he not been wired towards her from the moment he had seen her. He knew it was her, and the sound of clinking metal and rushing maids confirmed his suspicion.

That morning, he had listened as she was being prepared to go on a morning ride. Interesting she was, the girl of his dreams. She kept quiet while her maid tried to dissuade her from going, she would need to be there to greet the guests. She assured she would be there to break fast with them. He would admit it, he had rushed to his balcony to watch her leave.

It was still dark, but he knew she had seen him, and he had seen her, both locking eyes for a moment before she had left. She had promised to be at breakfast, he wanted her for breakfast, but he would content himself with what she had offered. In the meantime, he had slept lulled to sleep by her eyes staring at up at him. It was enough, all he needed.

She had needed to clear her head, but her head hadn’t been any clearer when she had returned as soon as the first rays started shining. She knew she had gone mad when while hurrying to meet with the rest of her family, she suddenly found herself very conscious of her body, her mind and her appearance, so conscious she thought they would all leap out of her body to be stared at by anyone looking in her discussion. The meal was difficult, but madness was kept at bay, hidden from the public. The prince invited her to join the council that would follow, her presence being of great importance to him.

Again, the councils were boring, and this one was not moving anywhere. While the proposal was good, requesting for such a number of men in exchange for a route into a neighboring sea could’ve been good but it simply was not enough, not to the lords of the councils and slowly, not the King. Madness, she had equated her strange behavior to earlier. And as a great scientist, she had confirmed it when in a burst of genius, she had made a proposal.

She remembered how her mother would speak of her father coming to offer himself as a marriage prospect. The princess had been young but the look in the queen’s eyes, she recognized it as the same she had that morning, the look they had shared together before she rode off into the night. As her mother would often say, she had seen that man and had to have him.

“Why not offer a union instead. Your kingdom united to ours in exchange for all the men you desire for as long as you desire.” Had she said, like a princess who had seen the man she had to have.

Less than an offer, it sounded like a statement, one he had accepted before it was even uttered, a statement he would obey like a soldier would obey their ruler. All noise quieted, the Lords, princes of the realm and the King stunned into silence by her words. It had been the first time she had even looked at him purposefully, looked at him like he was already dancing in her palm, a puppet to her every whim.

Before being a good king, he was a good father and as he liked to say, anything she would dream of, he would provide. She had looked at him, his little girl and he could see her assurance, almost like an impenetrable wall. He had watched in silence as Prince Nicholas smiled, accepting the proposal while dreaming of a life of love which had never interested him.

This had been the most ridiculous decision she had made but it had been made, a glorious proposal in the minds of all the councilmen, all rejoicing at the thought of killing two birds with one stone, one of these birds being her and the other being the bird of decency she was meant to keep on her shoulder.

That girl was insane, but she was getting married.

For the next months, she walked almost aimlessly, only ever coming alive when he was in her orbit. She had tried to reassure her mother the day of her departure by claiming that she would learn to love her future husband. How was she made to tell her loving mother that she had fallen as soon as she had seen the man and that this whole marriage was nothing, but a tantrum hidden under negotiations ? As awkward as she was, poor girl left her home, three of her brothers with her off course to assist her and all her maids following. The prince was strange, he had agreed to everything she had requested before leaving, even accepting to take her horse on the journey to her new home. Everything about this had been strange, all of it but she was not one to go back on her words, not when this opened such a great opportunity for both kingdoms.

She swallowed her confusion and walked in the shoes of the princess she would need to be, a role which was less arduous to play when her soon-to-be husband seemed to agree to anything and everything she could want, everything except being around her.

For the seven months which had preceded their wedding, she had grown to crave his company and attention, flowers of love blooming brightly in her chest and crying out to him, crying out for his eyes on her, like he had done that morning. She wanted him in more ways than the ones she kept to herself, and he seemed more interested in everything there could ever be. She had hoped that on the night of the wedding, they would cross the bridge together and finally, she could learn about him from his mouth and not from those of the people of the castle and the court.

Nothing had changed and here she was, the moon high in the sky, her feet cold and bare as she fidgeted with the fabric of her nightgown. The cold air was nothing compared to the warmth radiating out of her skin and seeping through the thin cloth covering her nakedness.

“What are you doing here ?”

She jumped in terror, so busy rationalizing and overthinking that she hadn’t heard the door opening or closing. Turning to face him, she wished she could die instantly, wished to be swallowed by the floor below.

There he was, just out of a bath which had taken more time than necessary but still needed to clear his head. He enjoyed to privacy of his chambers, a robe covering his manhood from her gaze. His eyes were fixated on her as soon as he had walked in, dark and tempted, he remained at a safe distance, observing as she tried to speak, gathering her thoughts and looking away before speaking.

“My apologies, husband… I… I wanted to see you…” Seen she had. “It was… It was urgent.”

“Are you okay ?” If worry spread through his mind, he made sure to hide it. He watched her nod before letting out a discreet sigh of relief and taking a seat on the chair that faced his bed, next to the chimney. “What could be so urgent that you would need to come see me so late and in such clothes ?”

She remained quiet and so did he, barely focused on his own state but entirely aware of how little she was dressed and how much he could see. Adjusting himself in the seat, he swallowed a groan, one meant to calm his nerves and snapping him out of whatever he was doing.

“I… We… We have been married for a month now, my prince.” Her voice was low and soft like the summer breeze and burning away at his decorum. He stared at her as she straightened her back and raised her head, reverting to the girl she’d been when he first met her. “We’ve been married for a month, and you have not touched me still… I do not want you to think that it is something I think of often as it would be a stain on my character that I could not withstand but… Have I done something to displease you ? Perhaps if you tell me I could fix whatever it is, and we could move on as newlyweds.”

He heard the way her breathing picked up, almost able to see her heart beating out of her chest as she spoke, trying to explain herself while he stared in silence, pathetic victim to his weakened spirit and the images it spread through his mind while she spoke.

Of course he wanted to touch her, ravish her, devour her whole. There was nothing more on his mind, no other thought consummated Prince Nicholas’ mind like the thought of her crumbling in his sheets did. He could almost feel it in her scent wherever she went, the sweet taste of her nectar on his tongue. If he allowed himself to dream more, he could feel her tightness around his length, holding him nicely while she squirmed under his body. He wanted nothing more than to have her whenever he saw her, her stature in front of his, so breakable and frail. The thought of his arms enveloping around her and engulfing her whole, like a wave.

How delicate and marvelous she was, his darling wife. How could he even think of touching her when he knew what he would do to her was beyond salacious ? How could he do that to her and ever go back to being cordial with her after ? He knew that she was poison to his mind and to his tongue, one single bite and he would never ever be able to go without. How was he meant to live a life when he dreamed of living in her skin, grinding himself down into fine powder to be breathed into her lungs. How could that ever happen ?

He had almost sworn himself to a life of sleepless nights, attempting to quench his thirst for her in the dead of the night with his hand on his cock, before she had walked into his room covered by almost nothing, asking why he had not bedded her yet.

Nicholas stood quietly, walking up to her with a dark expression on his features. He was so handsome, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, his hair still wet and his body glistening in the night.

“Are you asking me to bed you, dear wife ? Is that what you want ?”

He stood millimeters away from her, her air wrapping around his body and seeping into him. That damned scent, honey so thick and sweet he prayed to drown in it. She looked up at him, frozen by his tone and proximity. She could feel the warmth of him in her and wanted more, but a highborn lady could not want such things. Could they ?

She looked down, her eyes twinkling with disappointment and shame. This had all been wrong, a mess she had made and would have to deal with.

“I… I apologize, your grace… I did not mean to offend… I will go… Please, forget this ever happened.”

She held her hands tightly together to ground herself, taking long strides towards the door to prevent her tears from humiliating her further. She had barely reached the door that a large hand blocked the way by slamming the door shut. She jumped, surprised that all her years of training were not enough to help her notice whenever he moved around her.

She suddenly felt so small in front of him, her husband towering over her, large hands boxing her in his space. She could hear him breath softly, almost out of breath and sounding strained.

“Where do you intend to go exactly ?” His voice was deep as he spoke, shaking from the vibration it sent through her. “What… What do you think you are doing exactly ?”

He sounded pained by the very words, but she kept still, too scared to see where this would go if she turned.

“I wanted to return to my chambers, your grace…” In this whole conversation, this had been the clearest she’d been. All to say she was leaving, how annoying.

He chuckled and she was almost offended, because what exactly was so funny in this discussion ?

“You intend to return to your chambers… dressed like that ?”

Now she was offended. Was this truly what worried him ? One month married and he hadn’t touched her, but he worried about how she was dressed ? Of course, she knew why he worried, but she would still be angry at him for it, because why not ?

“The answer I gave earlier remains unchanged, your grace. Or would you prefer if I stripped completely ? Maybe then you would move out of my way then ?” There she was, the princess he had met that day, unbent by his titles. He could’ve almost laughed had the image she had planted in his mind, of her roaming bare in the halls, not angered him enough to go deaf.

He kept quiet and she almost thought he had died behind her before hearing the sound of fabric moving. Looking down at her feet, she saw the rope holding the robe closed on the floor and before she could process what was going on, she felt him move behind her pushing her into the door, his bare front against her, cock pressing into her backside as deep as she could feel it.

“You think… You think I would let anyone see you ? You think anyone ever deserved to see you ? Huh, dear wife ? Do you think anyone could ever dream of seeing you ?”

She couldn’t speak but he could hear her reaction in her breathing as it picked up, more erratic and less rhythmic. Her who had managed to remain somewhat composed until now was suddenly as quiet as a mouse, squeaking below him while he pressed himself into her.

If she asked, he would admit the jealousy and possessiveness he’d been feeling for her. Everyone could see it, but she remained clueless, too busy hiding from him. The bedding ceremony had been his last straw. Prince Nicholas was never known for losing his temper, so imagine the surprise of the lords of the court when he had raised his voice at them and his own father for attempting to keep the tradition of the bedding ceremony ? He had refused it, categorically, the idea of hungry old decrepit men staring at his darling in a moment that was form them only. Never. He would kill all of them for even thinking of it.

“I burn at the mere thought of you, your scent being the only thing I need to lose every bit of education I have ever received and… You think I would ever let you out of this room ?” His left arm wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her still. He tried not to lose it, feeling her push into him, her soft hands still holding onto her gown. He raised his other hand to move her hair out of the way before bending down to leave open mouth kisses on her neck. Deliberate and controlled, he wanted to go as slow as he could, savoring the moment. His tongue grazed her veins eagerly wherever his lips would go while he tried to keep his hips still, failing miserably and rutting into her. He could already see how nice and warm she would be around him, his sweet wife. His tongue on her skin wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger for her. “You want me to bed you, sweetness ? Fine. »

Every word he has uttered up until now had ignited something within her which a proper lady could never dream of letting out in their lives, but her instinct called for change in that very moment, the kind that was meant to undo all she had built herself to be in front of him. Because as condescending and arrogant as he might’ve sounded, she indeed, wanted nothing more than to be fucked. Partly for the sole purpose of experiencing the act as a woman, but also because the feelings she had started to feel for the man she had slightly tricked into a union were growing out of her control and called for some form of relief. Presently, the most adequate for would be the pleasure of the flesh, which she craved to indulge in.

« Tell me no, my dear… » He pleaded in a soothing voice she had only heard on their wedding night. « Deny me the pleasure of you and I will escort you to your chambers myself. »

She had expected more roughness from him, somehow. Almost ready to be unceremoniously dragged to the bed and stripped bare, she found herself melting more from the softness of his touch on her neck. His nose ran along her veins while his hips rutted slowly into the crevice of her backside. The wetness pooling between her legs dripped like poison, influencing the madness in her. As she took hold of the hand on her shoulder, she moved it to lay flat on her lower stomach. His fingers dug into her flesh, almost to pull her closer than she already was and yet, in truth, to scare her, maybe, into refusing him like he hoped.

The complexity of his mind in the moment made him almost just as deezy as she made him. He could almost feel delirium clawing at him, new senses appearing in him. Yes, he could feel her. The tightness of her pussy and the taste of her juices. He could all feel it. The prince was indifferent to the possibility that this was all in his head. The things which had been brewing in that same head for weeks now made it all the more necessary for him to listen for once. If he denied himself the pleasure of his wife, he would go mad. For weeks now, the prince had tried to act as friendly and neutral to her, even indifferent in the days when the pull towards her was too much to handle. He had tried as hard as any man could to deny himself pleasure both out of loyalty to her but also because no other woman could ever compare to her in his mind. Not when his nights were spent relieving a hard day’s work of ignoring and avoiding his wife. But in truth, how could he ever face such a beautiful being and taint her with the gunk flowing through him ? He couldn’t control the lewd images of her in his mind and until now, he’d almost managed to keep himself in check. Until she appeared in his bedchamber, demanding he touch her like she deserved and like he dreamt.

That did not change the fact that the woman he had tried to ignore for so long had grown a place for herself in his heart, a place that made it impossible to not give her the possibility to refuse what would ensue.

« Tell me no, my love… » He muttered, lips glued to her shoulder, as one last attempt to keep things how they were, to do things the right way, someday, maybe, when he wouldn’t be as weak to his passions as now.

And as she turned to look into his eyes, Prince Nicholas knew. In that moment, he knew he was destined for a life of allegiance to his wife and her every whim. With these beautiful eyes of hers, his princess had reiterated her earlier statement. Her answer, silent but acted remained unchanged.

« I don’t want to say no… » She whispered to him, their lips ghosting over the others.

No human word could ever fully grasp whatever followed next. Her whole body was suddenly caught by a force never seen before and spun around, her husband almost overjoyed but too taken by her lips to express it with full focus. She’s never tasted anything as sweet as his lips and he could say the same. The warmth of one another’s tongue, dancing in the others mouth, hoping, Prato to burn the other’s taste into their psyche, this was what this battle for control could be described as. Beyond control, they sought to catch up on lost time and feverishly discover as much as they could about the other.

Their lips encased perfectly into the others, Nicholas’ of course more taken and familiar with the act. He had tried to show decency and control, but the feel of her hot lips on his, shyly moaning into his had uprooted all forms of control.

His hands roamed, seeking for something to hold onto, anything to either ground him or feed his hunger for her. He found her wrists, her smaller hands back to holding onto the fabric of her nightgown. In that moment, he almost felt jealous of her and the opportunity she had to live in her own skin. He who could only dream of momentarily touching her could never be satisfied with the short amount of time he would get to spend with her. Years by her side would never be enough, not when he dreamt of their skins being merged together.

While his lips busied themselves on hers with fervor, his hands explored, touching, gripping, moulding and burning the feel of her in his mind. From her soft cheeks in his palm to the burn of her breasts on his bare chest, the prince did not know where to focus. His hand seemed to struggle leaving her cheek, keeping himself as chaste as the moment allowed to reassure her before moving to her neck. His fingers grazed the soft of her throat and she remained still, a willing victim to his increased thirsts.

When the princess moaned for the ninth time in his mouth, her lips parted and swollen, he pulled away from her to admire the mess below him.

« I haven’t even begun to explore you, my dear that you’re already so weak to me. » He chuckled, kissing the top of her nose and her forehead. Oh how fun this would be for the evil him looming on his shoulder.

He pulled away, allowing air and rationality to settle between them and for a second they remained still and quiet, drinking in the sight of one another. His exposed body had to be the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, a Greek statue in the flesh and dancing in the crevice of her palm. She stared at him like never before, a whole new sight granted to her and exposing him in his truth to her, the prettiest man she’d ever seen. So handsome and so willing to bend to her every desire.

Her eyes roamed around like the painting of a landscape meant solely for her sight. She reached his hips and bit her lips, her imagination running away from her control and painting the picture of his cock entering her repeatedly. She’s heard from her brothers about the steps of the act, and while the fear of confusion had been palpable initially, it had been a complete other feeling spreading through her at the moment. The princess was hornier than ever and the her insistent eyes on her husband’s hardened cock prodding out of the robe he wore did not make it any less evident.

A grin spread across the princes’ lips, just as into being watched by her as he was to admire in return. Him who had tried to not let his eyes wander could see freely now, the way her gown barely hid her peaking nipples or the way she’d kept her thighs tightly glued together as soon as he had stepped back.

The princess he had sworn fidelity and loyalty to now stood in front of him, sleeping gown falling off her shoulder and exposing more than just her cleavage.

When she reached towards him, her hand commending him to move and do what duty demanded, he wanted to laugh. There she was, his spoiled girl, leading him astray.

« The ache between my legs, husband… You are the source of it. I believe it to be your duty to soothe it. » A newfound confidence had crept its way in her veins and it intrigued him even more. To see her finally come out of her shell and demand of him, the prince, her lord husband. Nicholas took careful steps towards her before kneeling. His left hand found her right and took hold of her, their fingers intertwining tenderly.

With his free hand, he lifted the hem of her gown to expose her legs, rushing the fabric in his fist as he kept going higher, until reaching her hip. With some of the fabric still held up by his thumb, the rest of his hand slid along her flesh, and a sigh of relief escaped him. Deep and desperate, his head dropped as he pulled her closer. He let his forehead rest on her belly, nuzzling against her and kissing wherever he could reach.

His right hand which had still been holding the fabric of her gown slid under her thigh to part her legs. The prince let go of her hand and the fabric before laying a tender kiss over her bellybutton. He pulled back and signaled for her to open her mouth before gathering the gown and placing it between her lips and telling her to bite down. Like a good wife, she went along with his commands, holding onto his shoulders when he guided her palms towards them.

One of his hands came up to her backside, grabbing a handful while his right hand slid in between her legs to reach her mound. When his fingers plunged inside her, she almost felt her legs give out under her. Never had she felt such a sensation. His two fingers seemed to stretch her apart, too much already yet enough for her to quickly want more of whatever it was they provided.

« Shh, breathe. » He muttered, his hand unmoving.

She looked down to meet his eyes, her own glistening with tears from a foreign presence inside her. She blinked back tears while nodding softly and attempting to take a breath. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, her breaths ragged and trembling in concert with her trembling body. He nails were digging in his skin, crescent shaped marks littering his shoulders but his gaze never wavered, always on her. When she was certain that the pain had passed, she nodded slowly, gaining a smile from the man.

His fingers started going in and out of her while his lips kept kissing over her stomach. He could not take his eyes away from her, not at a moment like this when she was slowly starting to feel the pleasure of his touch. He could’ve, evidently, began with an other way of easing her into the act and the look of pain on her face truly made him want to peal his skin off. Now, as things would have it, she needed to be prepared before taking anything else and from the tightness of her pussy around his fingers, he would enjoy spreading her out to take him.

The more he thrust his digits in, the more she failed to stand on her two feet. Slowly, her body seemed to fold over his, melting down and loosing strength in her limbs the more space he took in her. When he inserted a third finger, the moans of pleasure she had tried to keep in grew louder. Her lips could no longer hold the gown in, to busy pushing out sounds each more obscene than the last. Her knees slowly gave out, her legs spreading wider and her juices dripping out more and more with each thrust. And when she was certain to have finally gotten used to whatever he was doing, he started spreading his fingers in rhythm with her moans.

« Oh, Lord, please… Please, oh, oh God… » She moaned, slowly loosing control over her actions.

Nicholas never looked away, too enticed by the sight of her. The more she folded on top of him, the tighter his grip on her became and soon, his moans met hers. Loud breathing muffled only by skin, she could only fall a little more while he kissed her side. His three fingers were drenched and the prince would be lying if he said that he wasn’t jealous of them in that moment. To get bathed in her nectar would be a paradise for him.

Her arms slowly wrapped around his shoulders, using his back as support while her legs shook from his treatment of her. She had completely disregarded her gown which covered her intimacy. It was an interesting position to be in, covered yet bare for his eyes to see and hands to hold.

And while he busied his fingers with her cunt, his tongue focused on roaming her sides from under the gown which now covered his head. His kissed, licked and hit into her ribs, leaving open mouthy kissed and marks of his teeth behind him. It still wasn’t enough, not until Nicholas found her nipples, ready for him to do whatever he pleased. When his tongue grazed over the soft bud of flesh, a yelp left her mouth, and when he started sucking on it, her voice grew louder.

Everything he did, he marked it down in his head, memorizing everything she liked and disliked in the moment. Her pleasure was his only goal at the moment and in life.

Her grip changed and soon her nails were digging into the skin of his back, her walls tightening around him and her sounds louder and louder. His fingers continued at the same speed while his teeth and tongue battled each other for a taste of her tits in his mouth. One was graced with his teeth, bite marks around the areola while the other enjoy his tongue and lips sucking little marks all over. Either way, they both were getting pleasure out of it. Even he, couldn’t deny that his end would come rather quick. As soon as she would cum, he would probably follow, beyond satisfied by the sound of her alone. But the prince did not want to let his cum of hers go to waste, already daydreaming of watching it drip out of her.

No, this would all be for her, his cock and his cum would all be for her.

« Hum, my sweet girl… You demanded I take care of the ache between your legs, did you not, princess ? » He expected an answer, enjoying the torment he was causing her. « I’m speaking to you, pretty girl. »

« P-Please… » She pleased instead of speaking up, too aware of how impossible it was for her to repeat such a thing without feeling shame.

Slipping his head out from under her gown, his eyes found hers again, piercing and dark with lust, he was unrelenting with her pussy as much as with his demand.

It was only after he had slowed down, silently threatening to stop if he did not get an answer.

« No, no, no ! Please husband, p-please ! » She cried out, parting her legs and reaching her hand down to push him back in. Despite his grin, she knew he would not let it go and folded. « Yes… Yes, I asked you to make me feel good… »

His face remained neutral until a smile spread again, this time with his teeth, on his face. Without a word, he dove back in, face under her gown. She squirmed in his grip, feeling her end near as it had been described by her maids and feeling the warmth of his breath over her cunt. He kept her stable and stunned before diving in to get a taste and suck in her clit like he had done her tits earlier.

This time with more fervor, his tongue danced over the bud of flesh as she wailed louder and louder from pleasure. He pulled her impossibly close, his forehead buried into her belly while his lips kissed all over her pussy. He kissed it like he kissed her, with desire unrivaled by even the loneliest of beasts. Nicholas showed her clit just as much love as he has shown her when he kissed her. He kept fucking into her with his fingers, more and more enthusiast as her fingers moved from his back to his hair, running through his blondish locks and pulling at the root. She moved in synch with him, bouncing on his fingers like a woman starved of her release until she came loud and hard all over his fingers.

« Yes, yes, yes ! Oh, God, more, please more ! » She screamed as she crumbled over him.

He kept pushing into her, deeper and deeper while she tried to process her first orgasm. Her hips kept moving up and down, following his rhythm and slowing down slowly. She was left panting and sweating, her cum dripping along his forearm. Never had she felt like this before, all thoughts and words escaping her but his name remaining. And she looked so magnificent above him, he could’ve died a happy man in that moment. If he wasn’t a selfish one before anything he would’ve been content with this, but Nicholas was selfish and he needed to feel her cunt squeeze around him like it had squeezed his fingers.

Hiking her leg up and draping it over his shoulder, he pulled his digits out before diving in mouth first to suck in her swollen folds and droplets of cum. More than being selfish, he was also greedy and that greed burnt the delicious taste of her in his mind. Never had he been so desperate for a woman. He wanted her spread in his sheets for life, taking over his space like she did his heart.

He kept devouring her pussy while she trembled, too sensitive to handle more of his treatment of her. The prince looked up with desire, admiring the state he had left her in. He needed to see more.

Detaching his lips from her with great dissatisfaction, he rose to his full height, taking her with him and lifting her up before taking a could of steps and dropping her onto the bed. Not even a second had gone before he kneeled onto the bed and grabbed her gown by the top before ripping it apart.

« Nicholas ! » she screamed. It amused him and he apologized with a kiss to her forehead.

« I’ll have a hundred more made of the finest silks for you. Not that you will need them much in the future. »

He pulled whatever was left of the gown and his own robe, tossing them out into a corner of the room. His eyes scanned her body from top to bottom, painting down the picture of her in that state. Oh how he wished to have his mouth back on her cunt at the moment, drinking in her taste and enjoying the sounds of pleasure she produced. Instead, he satisfied himself with his fingers, sucking on all three as he took his cock in hand and stroke along the shaft. His balls were tight and full, he could feel them ready to burst from the sight of her alone. Even now, drops of cum leaked out of his slit to coat the veins running all along his member. His movements were slow and sensual, his tongue lapping up all over his fingers before licking down his arm to swallow all that had poured on him. How good did she taste, his princess, his wife. So sweet and sensitive, he couldn’t keep fucking into his hand when knew that the only thing that could provide him with the pleasure he needed at the moment was her.

She’d been watching this whole time, panting and aching even more for his cock to push inside her and make her his in the eyes of traditions. She could see it glistening with pleasure, pulsating and she wanted nothing more than to taste it the way he had tasted her. Everything about his anatomy was so new and yet, she wanted to dive in and discover him intimately. She would demand they stay in that very room and be allowed to discover his wants soon enough, but for now, the night called for more classical things. The pleasure of the flesh and hunger for one another demanded they follow customs.

Nicholas pulled out his fingers from his mouth, coated in his saliva and slipped them into her mouth while his other arm wrapped around her waist to pull her up and have her sit on the sheets. Bare in between the red and golden fabrics, she looked ready to be devoured and just like she would demand, he would get to that later. For now, he pulled her to his chest and grinned wider when she kissed his stomach, pulling out the fingers she’d been sucking to mirror his earlier actions.

For a moment, a veil of tenderness enveloped them both, softness settling between the married couple to awake a need to hold and kiss the other. Her arms wrapped around his torso and her face nuzzled into his chest, kissing whatever she could reach. A small laugh was his response, as well as soft caressed on her shoulders and cheek.

« You’ll get all the time you want to kiss me, my love. Let me do what I need to do, hum ? » He kissed her forehead after she had nodded, again more than satisfied by her obedience. Thought he enjoyed it, he would not lie, following her around and obeying to her every command was more what he liked.

Laying her down flat on the bed, his hands parted her legs to give him more space to move. From that position, he kissed her collarbones while guiding his tip in the direction of her entrance.

« I promise to go as slow and gentle as you want me. Just tap my shoulder if it gets too much, okay ? Speak for me. »

« Okay, the shoulders. Understood. » She repeated, nodding animatedly.

Her eagerness was palpable and truth be told, the apprehension of him nestled within her did made her fidget a little. But the hunger for him to stretch her out to his girth was even more taking. It but at her core and made the earlier ache return with more bite than before.

« Hum… Your grace ? » At the sound of her voice, the prince immediately stopped, looking up at her. « I… I’ve never done anything of this sort before…”

Something in the way she had spoken breathed joy within him. Not only because he was the one she had chosen to be her first but also because she had felt comfortable enough to tell him. The wall they had built around one another had been crashing down in a pile of cement leaving them exposed to the other. And through that both seemed to breath for the first time around the other, finally able to express the truth of their desire.

The lips etched onto her collarbones moved to kiss up her neck before reaching her cheeks and lips again. As soon as his lips met hers, she eagerly reciprocated the act, following after him in search for the taste of his tongue on hers. The tip of his cock had been rubbing along her slit and clit and she couldn’t help but want to see what would follow. Always the dutiful husband, Nicholas was, of course, a greedy man first. His left hand came up to her face to hold her neck tightly and her jaw in place. He pinched at the bone and forced her small mouth open with a smile before sliding his tongue in in concert with his cock sliding into her.

« Oh, God ! » She cried out, suddenly aware of how much bigger he was while inside than in front of her.

Her legs shook slightly, struggling to keep still while her insides were torn apart once again. Despite him stretching her earlier, this would’ve never been enough to prepare her for the girth and length of his cock digging into her canal and stretching her to his side. Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled in pain, it was all too much, too new. She couldn’t breath and should’ve been scared, yet the soft caress of his fingers on her throat grounded her just right.

« Just like earlier, sweetness. Breathe slowly. » He commanded and despite struggling to do so on her own he obeyed.

Slowly, her ragged breaths were replaced by even more ragged breathing but this time out of pleasure and eagerness. The space he took inside her demanded to be expanded and she needed to have a taste of the darkness dancing in his eyes. His eyes, hadn’t moved away from her at any point. Focused on her eyes while he kissed away her thoughts, his tongue and hers danced together, teeth clattering occasionally while drool dropped out of the corner of her mouth.

Neither of them would get over kissing the other anytime soon and it was for the best.

The prince wasn’t sure how long he’d been still within her tight walls, kissing her but he knew that the tight hold she had on him would soon drive him insane. With each hiccup her walls squeezed around him tightly. With each breath, she had him throbbing harder inside her and through all he managed to stay still. Not for much longer though, not when she wrapped her legs tightly against his waist and her arms around his shoulders before pushing her face into his.

« Move, please, Nicholas… » She muttered against his lips and like a soldier ready to attack, his hips started moving. Slowly his pace shifted to go faster and deeper, his cock fucking into her cunt with more and more grit.

Soon the room echoed of the sounds of pleasure she created as well as his grunts of pleasure. Now on her ribcage, his hand rose to her breast to squeeze one in his palm while his other hand laid flat on her back. It slowly lowered to soon reach her ass that he squeezed too, using it as support to keep her close while he bottomed out inside of her.

The princess’ senses were like heightened by pleasure, her ears picking up on the sounds of the bed creaking and banging on the wall harder with each thrust. She could also hear the sounds of his groans and moans, all different and each more obscene. Of course she could hear the way his cock fucked into her warm cunt, his heavy sack slapping against her with more strength.

She could barely form a coherent thought to explain the way she felt and the sensations running around her body. All she knew was that she wanted more and so did he. He couldn’t begin to tell how good it felt to finally be inside her and feel that sweet tightness he had daydreamed for weeks before tonight. She held onto him tighter with each thrust and he knew she felt good, so good even that she pulled at his hair again, this time screaming her pleasure from up close into his willing ear. Like a symphony of pleasure and lust, the prince had never heard any sound as beautiful as her voice crying out to him in pleasure while he dug his cock into her guts.

He was quick to find the spot that would have her falling apart, a bundle of nerves which had her begging for his cock deeper and harder than before. And Prince Nicholas was a good and obedient man, whatever his wife wanted she’d get.

Leaving her lips, his mouth moved with his face to suck on her breast again, licking her nipple before his arms moved to cross behind her. Both his hands took handfuls of her ass before lifting her up and down on his cock. The prince started moving her body in tandem with his thrusts. He couldn’t hold himself together for long, he knew it as soon as he saw her in his room tonight, and his voice was the first tell. Growing louder and louder, the prince lost himself inside his princess.

« F-Fuck… My love… Oh, yes… F-Yes, yes, take it, sweetness… Take me good, my love…Yes ! »

This time it was his turn to leave crescent shaped marks on her flesh, his nails digging into the thick of her ass. She couldn’t compare to anything she’d even seen before but the prince fucked like a man possessed, his pants of pleasure louder than the next each one after the other. Moans and cries could be heard all though the room and even beyond, both knew it.

« M-My… Oh, oh, oh, hum ! » She had tried to speak but his pace accelerated again, his cock going deeper and slamming into a wall of flesh as well as the spot he had reached earlier. “Fuck ! Ah, ah, ah, m-my… My love… S-s-slow down ! »

Her voice trembled of pleasure, the kind that neared on insanity. Now, both her hands were in his hair, finding something to ground herself on amongst the thick curls on his head. Feeling the tip of his cock get even deeper, she looked down to see it through her stomach, a bulge forming on her lower belly. Repeatedly, the large mushroom tip of his dick pushed into her cervix, showing itself to the lovers.

Nicholas’ forehead rested against hers, following her gaze while he bit hi slips to contain himself but failed. There he was, all the way inside her smaller body. He was suddenly way more aware of how small she was in comparison to him, his cock wide enough to make such a visible image inside her. She watched his furrow his eyebrows, almost looking and sounding in pain. He couldn’t handle the events. From the taunting him in her little question to calling him her love. This would kill him. But he would die a happy man.

« Oh… Oh sweet… I-You kill me, sweet love… » He could only say while trying not to look down again. He buried his face in between her breasts to hide from the obscene vision. He would come quickly and so would she, he knew it.

Her breasts bouncing against his skin was pure agony, just like it was our agony to feel her squeeze him as tightly as she was. To reciprocate the « suffering » his hand came down to push her stomach at the place he had been pushing into. She bit her lip to keep in another cry of pleasure that would quickly be replaced by more incoherent screaming while his thumb came down to rub on her clit.

He needed her to cum around him and quickly or he’d go insane. He toyed with her bud of flesh while looking at the way his cock went in and out of her, stretching her out to fit him while he fucked her within an inch of her life. A ring of cum had formed around him, white and thick. That vision alone fed into his need to cum. He needed to see more of this.

« Come for me, sweetness… » He groaned with as much control as he could muster. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while his own crossed, his mouth falling open to let out a string of animalistic grunts and moans. Both synchronized for a moment, her meeting his thrust with her own eager movements while he pushed into her harder and harder until both came in a string of cusses.

She almost felt like she had gone blind for a moment, white light clouding her vision as well as the groundbreaking sensation of her second orgasm raging through her. And if she thought this was it, she was quickly thrown back into that coital state by his cum spurting out of his cock into her warm cunt. The princess felt her husband spread through her and fill up every crevice of her pussy. Warm and thick, she felt his cum dance inside her for the next minutes as they both came down from their end, sweaty and panting.

Both were still moaning, the prince too out of his mind to keep himself from thrusting inside her some more. He didn’t want to pull out, not when she felt so good.

Instead, he chose to rut inside her tight pussy while kissing her jaw and throat. Her own hand caressed the back of his neck while she blinked away the sleep. His kisses were so soft and tender, she couldn’t help but to reciprocate, kissing his ear and into his hair.

« Have I satisfied you, my love ? » He muttered, falling on her. His body was covering the whole of hers as she laughed.

« More than that, my prince… » Her voice was small in that moment, just as sweet as her and filled with unspoken warmth.

He was still panting on top of her, holding her close and basking in the scent of her body enveloping him as she bathed him in tenderness. Both fell asleep slowly, his lips whispering sweet nothings into her ear and kissing her into a well deserved sleep. Through the night they remained connected, holding onto the other and keeping his cum and hers deep inside her.

The next morning, when the maids came up to the Prince’s chamber to notify him of the princess’s disappearance, they were quickly thrown out, all squealing in shame from witnessing her on top of him, bouncing and taking her early pleasure from him without a care in the world. Luckily she hadn’t seen them or even heard, too busy treating herself to a morning ride, but he had and he would not have anyone disturb his wife while she enjoyed herself on him.

As mentioned earlier, she would have him disregard his duties for the day so that she could have a taste of his cock herself and he would gladly oblige in exchange of a taste of her sweet cunt on his tongue.

It became tradition to find her in his chambers or the other way around. She enjoyed being chased by him at the hours of the night in her gown to be carried back to her rightful place in his bedsheets. The knights and the maids knew better than to look. The princess on the prince’s shoulder was for his eyes only. And when both found themselves in her chambers it was due to his need to smell her on him at every turn. More than once he’d sneak in her bath with her and before he could even speak, the maids would scurry out of the room.

When both became king and queen, nothing much changed except now, no room was left untouched, the throne room first to be christened.

Their future would be constructed on foundations of love and intimacy to catch up on the lost time at the beginning of their marriage and that same marriage would be one their descendants would remember as the best to ever be. All it would take was a princess who demanded and a prince who obeyed.

[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x teammate!reader

nsfw // oral, public sex, more fwb trope because i love it

gc had me thinking things during tonight’s game so here’s a blurb drabble oneshot thing? @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @lupinqs @bueckersfive

“Good games from you four.” Geno says to Ashlynn, Sarah, Paige, and yourself. “How’s that ankle?” He asks, directing his attention solely to you.

“Good. All good.” You nod.

You no longer cared about the slight sting of your ankle, all you were able to think about was the feeling of Paige’s hand on your back, fisting your jersey between her fingers.

You didn’t play much tonight, still nursing that injury and on a minutes restriction. But you didn’t even need to, when Ash and Paige started the game 8/8 from three, you, your team, and the huskies fans knew what time it was.

“Take a shower, you all stink.” Coach jokes, leaving the room along side CD with an emphatic clap.

You untuck your jersey, rucking it over your head and tossing it in your duffle. The white nike sports bra on your body clings to you from sweat, 11 points and 3 steals compiling your stats for the night.

“Giving me a show, huh?” You hear her from behind you. Paige is a little too cocky tonight, something about the air in Mohegan Sun just give her that extra.. something. Confidence booster maybe?

“Is that what you call how you played tonight?”

“Shit, you think so?” She teases, sitting down by your locker tugging her own jersey off.

“You can quit with the humble shit. I know you.” Your comment makes her smirk. And it’s something about that, coupled with her rosy cheeks and flaked mascara that makes your legs tremble just a bit.

It seems like that’s always how it is around Paige. When you first transferred, she was the most welcoming, slightly annoying with a potty mouth that you’d never expected, but still charming. Then as the days passed and the relationship between you both became stronger, she had you wrapped around her finger. Literally.

“I played good?” She asks, praise kink evident in the way she’s speaking to you.

You nod, knowing that speaking anymore would give you both away to your teammates. “So good.” You cheese, reaching for the white towel in your locker. “Imma go shower, you’re welcome to join me.” You whisper the last part with a bite of your lip.

—

“Paige shut up.” You mumble against her lips. Hand tugging at her ponytail holder and releasing her hair down her shoulders in any attempt to keep her grounded to you.

Her hands were everywhere, gripping your ass and kneading it eagerly. She’s loud, and it’s been a while since she’s had you like this. Two days maybe three, and when your apartments are across the hall from another that’s too damn long.

“Fuck me then.” She retaliates, biting your bottom lip as you pull away. “Talkin’ all this shit. Do something, ma.”

And you are, eagerly kissing at her neck, sucking at that spot near her jaw that makes her writhe. The moan she lets out is pretty, high pitched and thankfully hushed behind the sound of the water hitting the ground.

“27 points? Who you feelin’ like?” You tease, trailing your lips down the column of her neck. Your hands grip her hips tight, keeping her still as you slowing move down her body. “Would fuck you crazy if you dropped 30.”

“Imma strap you so good tonight, y’ont even know.” She groans against you. “11 in 10 minutes? You’re like that, baby?”

You stop at her chest, nipples pink and perky and so fucking mouth watering. Your mouth encloses around one, softly rubbing circles over the other with your thumb.

“Maybe.” You giggle, kissing her chest again. “Been so wet for you tonight, P.” You comment. By the time you sink to your knees in front of her you’re pealing her legs apart to find she’s just as wet as you are. Maybe even more.

“Yeah, ma?”

“Mhm. Seein’ you all sweaty and shit.” You mumble, licking your lips at the sight of her. “I can’t play with you anymore, get me too distracted.”

Paige groans, sinking her hand deep into your hair and pulling it hard. A moan flys past your lips as you look up at her. Her chest is heaving, abs clenching, crystalline blue eyes looking down at you eagerly.

“Put your mouth on me. Stop talkin.” She says.

You oblige, knowing that waiting any longer would piss off not only your team, but your future self too.

Your tongue lolls out to make contact with her cunt, laying flat as you lick a stripe through her folds. Paige’s body shudders, her head tossing back against the shower wall. Seeing her face nearly made you leak down your legs.

You hum against her, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking it into your mouth, tongue running over the underside of her clit.

“Good, mama. So good, like that.” Paige moans, nodding her head as her eyes close. The dark black of her lashes meet her cheeks, jaw dropping slack.

You’re both so lucky that the curtain covers you both fully because the sight of you on your knees in the shower would probably send the other to girls in the locker room into cardiac arrest.

Your jaw falls slack as you lap at her cunt eagerly. Paige’s hand holds you close, nearly suffocating you between her but in that moment, with your tongue deep inside, you decide you don’t care.

“Seniors hurry it up!” You hear Sarah call.

You pull back with an electric pop, catching your breath and looking up at Paige as if to tell her to speak up.

“Gotchu!” She says. And they can’t hear it, but you can. The obvious shake in her voice.

Paige looks back down at you, her eyes wide as she mouths, “make me cum.”

You’d be a monster to deny such a request.

As soon as the locker room door closes you’re right back on her like white on rice. Your tongue dives back in, fucking into her in that way you know she likes. Your thumb circles her clit, and Paige is slamming her hand against the shower wall.

“Baby.” She grunts, her hips bucking against your face. “Fuck, mmph fuck! Like that, jus’ like that.”

“Wanna cum on my face?” You tease. The question is rhetorical, because you and her both know the answer.

The blonde nods emphatically, toes curling underneath her and just slightly knocking her off her already fleeting balance. She doesn’t even try to hold back her moans anymore, grinding and bucking into your face that you nearly pass out at how good she tastes.

Her eyes roll back to her head, a loud moan passing past her lips before she’s cumming on your face. Juices dripping and you don’t even know if it’s her cum coming down your chin or water from the shower head.

You pull back with a breath, her arousal still lingering on your tongue. Paige’s hand finally leaves your hair, pushing you further away and attempting to regain what’s left of her composure against the wall.

You stand up, gripping her cheeks and meshing your tongue with hers. “Tastes so good, P. Right?”

“Mhm.” She hums into your mouth, slapping your ass and pulling her closer. “You might taste better.”

Paige reaches behind you to turn off the shower, the sudden silence in the room dawning on you both. “Lemme get you real fast.”

“We gotta go!” You push at her chest, shaking the water out of your hair.

“Yeahhhh, but I need that shit. I’ll be quick.”

“You and quick don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Ight then, I’ll take you on the bus.”

And knowing her, she would make sure of it.

[afewproblems]

Having depressing Steve Harrington Whump thoughts this sunny Sunday morning.

I usually headcanon Steve's parents as being neglectful and absent given their lack of screen presence in the show and thought about Steve grappling with this throughout his childhood.

Being left alone for days and eventually weeks at a time, starting much younger than was appropriate, but it was the era of latchkey kids and Richard and Darleen Harrington assumed Steve was capable enough to not really need watching. The house never burned down.

Their son was fine.

And Steve would be the first person to agree, to smile wanely while the migraines pounded in his head, a parting gift from Billy Hargrove and the and Russians. He was fine.

It was fine.

Until the spring of 1986 when all Hell literally broke loose.

During the last events of the Upside Down and the earthquakes that almost decimated Hawkins, the Harringtons finally come back to town, horrified to be called in from Indianapolis by the charge nurse at Hawkins General Hospital.

Their relationship does get a little better after nearly losing their only son. They don't talk about it, the lost years of quality time, but Steve has made begrudging peace with it and is happy to have them around now for family dinners and the holidays.

They are even fairly good about his relationship with Eddie once he finally comes out. Richard takes a little longer to warm up to the idea, but Darleen seems determined not to lose Steve again.

And things are fine for awhile, the four of them have found an equilibrium amongst each other. Richard busies himself with offering to help with repairs around their house as needed, the leaky sink in their guest bath or the backdoor that was never hung correctly. While Darleen is always quick to bring over a new recipe for them all to try at the next family dinner.

They don't talk about the fact that this is the most home cooking Steve has ever experienced in his 30 years of life or that he didn't know his dad even owned a screwdriver.

But it's fine.

They manage.

It's only after the adoption of their daughter that Steve begins to notice the changes in his parents in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

"I just, I don't get it," Steve says quietly to Eddie one summer day. Richard and Darleen are out in the yard with Abigail, playing in the sun. Abigail shakes a flower from the garden in Richard's face while he pretends to sneeze exaggeratedly, making Abigail break into peals of laughter.

Eddie frowns at Steve, watching as he crosses his arms tightly around himself.

"There has to be something going on, it doesn't make any sense how they're being with her," Steve bites out eventually. He lifts a trembling hand to his hair and tugs harshly at the roots.

"Okay woah woah," Eddie says slowly as he stops forward and gently coaxes Steve's hands away from his hair, "Stevie, sweetheart, I don't understand".

Eddie watches as Steve's gaze travels out the window once more to see Darleen lift their giggling baby girl above her head before lowering Abigail to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. Eddie smiles at the sight but it quickly vanishes as he looks back at Steve who is looking longingly at his mother.

"Because," Steve says, his voice catches on the growing lump in his throat, "if they were always capable of this, of being there, then why couldn't they do that for me?"

[xiaq]

No, but lets talk about this. I dug out my grad school notes and everything.

So my grandmother is acting a fool on FB (what else is new).

And I can't respond to her because I might actually give her a heart attack if I shared some of the images included below. But I wanted to rant to someone so here we are. First, yes, the drag bit at the Olympics was inspired by The Feast of the Gods, by Dutch artist Jan van Bijlert in the 1630's, not The Last Supper mural by Italian artist Leonardo da Vinci, in the 1490's. And yes, pearl-clutching Christians need to touch grass and tone down the victimization because it's getting embarrassing. I think we've established this now from multiple reputable sources.

But like. Even if the Olympics DID make a drag parody of the The Last Supper, it's SO funny that Christians are holding up that painting as some sort of ideal heterosexual conservative icon when plenty of historians (including my Renaissance art prof in grad school) are certain da Vinci was gay. The man had no documented female lovers but was arrested for sodomy with a male prostitute (though charges were later dropped). He had extremely close relationships with his secretary Salaì and pupil/friend Francesco Melzi who both traveled the world and lived with him for most of their lives and through the end of his. When he died, Melzi wrote in a letter that there was "a burning and passionate love" between them. And Salaì modeled for da Vinci all the time--let me tell you, there are some hella erotic drawings of him. Exibit A:

But maybe heterosexuals draw their bros erect all the time and label the drawings "Angel Incarnate." Maybe.

Also if Christians really want to clutch their peals, this drawing might look familiar because da Vinci created his well known John the Baptist painting based on this and other sketches of Salaì.

Well, hello. Also worth noting: there are lots of fun doodles in da Vinci's sketch books, including things like the below--two dicks with legs poking at a butthole labeled Salaì.

Do you REALLY think that this (likely queer) man would care if someone based a drag show off one of his paintings?

[imhappierthanever]

Billie comes to visit you at work & she’s hungry for a little lunch:

Another boring morning. A Monday at that. You struggled getting out of bed before making your way to your office. Late as always since you and your girlfriend decided you would live together.

Every time you made any progress, she would send you back about two steps. Undressing you, pealing off your most intimate items, wrapping her arms around you, kissing you hard enough to make you get caught up in the moment. Just what she wanted.

When your makeup was just right, she would capture your lips with her own, leaving you to have to touch it up yet again.

When you made breakfast for you both, she ended up sitting you on the counter, standing between your legs as her hands caressed your body gently. She was never hungry for the food. Literally just you.

“Billie- I h..I have to get to work. I’m sorry my love…” you let your hands travel all over her body as hers explored some of her favourite parts of you.

“You can be a little late.Can’t you? Stay here and show me that you’re my good girl.” She said biting your neck gently. She was absolutely NOT making this easy for you.

Finally the sound of the kettle sounded, and you kissed her cheek before hoping down and fixing your outfit back. You made a cup of tea for Billie and yourself. A little peace offering before you knew you had to hurry out the door. You handed it to her, gently stroking her cheek. “I’ll be home from work before you know it. Then I’m all yours. You can have me however you want me, baby. Okay?” At this she softened, pecking your lips as a thank you for her tea. She used her free arm to wrap around your body, trapping you against her body as she tried to get her full of you before you rushed out the door.

“Promise?” She said hopeful. Her big blue eyes lighting up. You laughed before promising once more, kissing her lips softly before you both separated.

You reached for your suit jacket placing it on before smoothing your hands over your hair, making sure every strand was still in place. Once you were somewhat satisfied, you blew your girlfriend a kiss, grabbed your bag and lunch and made your way to work.

About twenty minutes later you were sat at your desk. Wondering why you rushed to a place you despised so much when all you wanted was to be back home with her.

You sighed as you looked at a picture of you both, running your fingers over the heart shaped frame before letting yourself work on something other than thoughts of Billie. You suffered through meeting after boring meeting and all before lunch. Once 1:00 hit you made your way back to your office, happy to have a break away from it all. You grabbed your lunch box that Billie always packed for you the night before and got ready to settle in, ready for one of her cute notes.

No wonder why it felt so empty you thought to yourself, folding the note quickly and slipping it into your pocket so no one else would see. Before you could even gather your thoughts, you heard a knock on your window. Not your door, but your window. You knew it had to be her.

You turned your head to see your girlfriend standing there with a half bitten lip and actual lunch. For you. The look in her eyes told you that you would be the only thing she was having this afternoon.

You smiled rolling your eyes before rushing over, letting her in. “You know, there’s this great thing called a door babe. You should try it sometime.” You giggled before wrapping your arms around her, welcoming her into your space in more ways than one.

“This is more fun.” She said crashing her lips onto yours before setting your lunch aside.

“I’m fucking starving.” She said biting your lip, pulling it into her mouth before letting her hands caress you, peeling off your jacket, unbuttoning your blouse and hiking up your skirt to reveal your barely there underwear. “I’ve wanted you all morning. And you made me wait. Such a bad girl. Not listening.” She said as she tore your underwear away from your core, sliding them down your legs before putting them in her pocket.

“Billie I-“ “you can’t what baby?” Billie said before taking a seat in your chair, pulling you down on top of her. “The blinds. Everyone will see.” You whispered, already overwhelmed with everything she was doing to you.

“Let them see.” She said freeing you from your bra, still not completely undressing you. Just needing to get you opened to her as much as she could.

You whimpered as her tongue circled your nipple, biting down making you moan loudly. Forgetting where you were. Forgetting that your boss share a wall with you and could probably hear exactly what you two were up to.

Billie thrived on that sort of thing. She loved living on the edge and feeling like at any given moment you could be caught. It enhanced her experience.

You held onto Billie as you grinded against her, the friction of her jeans adding to the moment. Your wetness adding to her jeans. She didn’t mind.

“That’s right baby. Make a mess on me.” She whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine. “I love it when you’re this wet for me. Can’t wait to taste it.” She said letting her fingers slide down to your core, spreading your wetness, loving that you were already a throbbing, shaking mess just from her touch.

Once she decided you were wet enough, she used one arm to hold on to you, and the other to swipe everything off of your desk. You silently thanked yourself for putting the picture of you both inside your drawer.

She laid your body down on top of your desk. Your body was aching, back arching, waiting for her to take what was hers. And when she finally did you found your fingers woven in her dark brown wavy hair, moans bouncing off the wall as she consumed you. She ate you like a starved woman, pulling you closer to her mouth, her tongue lapping at your pussy, diving into your waters. Neither of you could get enough.

Gone were the thoughts of what you coworkers would say if they had been listening through the wall. Gone were the thoughts of people seeing you, or the work you had to actually do. All you could focus on as Billie.

Her eyes never leaving yours, her fingers digging into your thighs as you gave her everything you had to offer. Feeding her. Giving her exactly what she wanted. You had always been her favourite for lunch.

[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

[onlyangel4]

Hiii! Could you maybe do a lando smau based on Tate mcrae’s new music video? And the music video is either her hard launching with Lando or her shooting her shot with him?

vroom vroom boy. ln4. smau.

lando norris x singer!reader

what better way to hard launch your relationship than in your brand new music video

faceclaim: tate mcrae

y/ninsta

liked by sabrinacarpenter, taylorswift, landonorris and 1,683,283 others

y/ninsta: end of tour dump, love y'all

view all 23,193 comments

sabrinacarpenter: the best performer to ever live

y/ninsta; no u bby

user1: bestie thought she could just slip a man into the third slide and we would not notice

user2: fr she thinks she is sneaky

user3: do we have a new dad

user4: omg a man

user5: i need to know who he is so i can make sure he is good enough for her

landonorris posted a story

written: just filmed something very exciting can't wait for you to see it

y/ninsta posted a story

written: something's coming

y/ninsta posted a story

y/ninsta posted a story

written: two hands. song and mv out at midnight

landonorris posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: catch me driving y/n y/ln about in her new music video

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 1,847,484 others

tagged: landonorris

y/ninsta: 2 hands is out now, i hope you love it as much as i do

p.s thank you to my love for driving me about all day, love you vroom vroom boy

view all 127,384 comments

user6: "my love" omg guys we have lost her

user7: the hottest couple fr

landonorris: i can't believe our baby is finally out in the world

y/ninsta: had the best time filming with you

user8: filming a whole music video to hard launch your relationship is the most y/n thing ever

mclaren: can't wait to see you in the paddock

y/ninsta: can't wait to meet you admin

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[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[daimus]

honor bound

There is nothing you and Reo do that Nagi is not a part of.

wc — 3k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fem reader, threesome, prince! Reo x princess! Reader x knight! Nagi

“You’re playing too rough,” Reo complains. “You’ll hurt her.” 

Nagi rolls off you guiltily. 

There’s dirt in your hair and an ugly, wet stain along the side of your favorite silk shoes. Something in your mouth tastes funnily like grass. When you spit it out, sure enough, little green blades fall from your lips, probably torn from the field when Nagi was roughhousing with you on the lawn. Still, mangled as your clothes are, when your mouth falls open, it’s not to cry as Reo is afraid you will. 

Instead, bright laughter spills from you, climbing higher and higher until you’re breathless from it. Your chest aches and there are tears in your eyes. The two boys stare at you in fearful silence. 

“I think you broke her,” Reo whispers. “Hurry, apologize.” 

“Sorry,” Nagi says, still looking guilty. “Please forgive me.” 

Reo pinches his side. 

“Ow,” Nagi whines, batting his hand away. “My most gracious lady?” 

He speaks with the clumsiness of someone reciting lines from a book. He’s only a squire, after all. Honor is as distant a concept to him as warfare. These are things to be studied, not put into practice. 

This only sends you into further peals of laughter as Reo tries desperately to shush you. You’re breaking the rules after all. You’re not supposed to be out here, not supposed to be dirtying your clothes, and as a foreign princess destined to marry Prince Reo, definitely not supposed to be touching other men. 

It’s a struggle to get you back into your quarters without anyone seeing - or, as the real problem turns out to be, hearing you. It’s like something has truly broken inside of you, a dam that kept you well mannered and poised in society. Now all you can do is giggle, thinking about the great fun you had rolling around in the grass, learning the sweaty, tiring joy all other children learned so young. 

“Get her shoes off,” Reo hisses as he carefully wraps his clean handkerchief around your mouth. You don’t struggle, simply smiling up at him with trusting, joyous eyes. 

He heard from some tutor or the other (he has many) that laughter is like a drug. He can see the way it acts on you now, careless and lackadaisical, allowing him to do as he pleases. His heart melts. He pats your cheek fondly. For the first time since you participated in the engagement ceremony, two solemn children pledging vows they didn’t understand, the realization that you will someday be his wife comes upon him. 

“What are you doing?” Nagi hisses. 

“We have to be quiet,” Reo says. He rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t be like that. Do you know how bad it would be if we were caught like this?”

“Yes, so why are you asking me to- Her ankles are bare, Reo.” 

“I told you to get her shoes off,” Reo says. “Not be a pervert. If you have to do that without looking, then fine. Turn away. Just do it!” 

Nagi grumbles to himself, but he never refuses Reo. You’ve learned that much in your short time with them. 

“Spoiled thing,” Reo murmurs as he caresses your cheek, his other hand dipping behind your neck to undo the first of many buttons down your back. The voice in which he says it is strange, even to himself. He doesn’t recognize it. Dimly, he registers that the phrase comes from what he hears people say about him when he’s being particularly adorable. 

He knows he’s being adorable. He wants them to say it. He suspects that you, also, know that you’re being adorable and wants him to say it. 

But knowing the trick doesn’t take the delight out of it - still Reo feels drawn to you, down to the coquettish way you’re blinking your eyes at him, your lashes shaded in such a way as to make you appear sweet and demure. 

Nagi stands, your shoes in one hand. 

“Here,” Reo says, placing your hands on him. He raises you from your seat, leaning your weight against Nagi, who bears it as uncomplaining as if he were a coat rack or a wall. He’s through arguing with Reo. 

Behind you, Reo pops open a row of buttons one by one down your spine. You shudder at each slackened clasp, feeling your dress slip looser and looser until it cascades down your body entirely. Reo drops to his knees to help you step out of the mass of your skirts, leaving you in nothing but a thin slip. 

The sound of voices coming up the stairs startles Nagi, who grips you more securely. 

“Time to go,” Reo says. “Tuck her into bed, Nagi.” 

They’re an efficient team. Reo hides all the evidence as Nagi pulls the blankets around you. 

There’s such a large army of ladies in waiting around you that it’s easy for miscommunication to inevitably force one of them to take credit for putting you to bed. They’ll lead themselves towards that conclusion without any help. 

Reo leaves a soft kiss on your brow before he strides to the window and slips out of it. “Nagi, come,” he demands, dipping out of sight. The sounds of his climbing fade away quickly. 

Ever obedient, Nagi follows suit. He slings his leg over the sash and drops off the side. Just his eyes and pale hair are visible above the windowsill now. A strand whips across his cheek in a sudden breeze. He stops for a moment, hesitating. 

“You’re going to be okay?” 

You don’t really understand him, but the tone is clear enough. His expression, searching, helps too. You can’t speak, so you smile and nod at him. He returns the look, soft eyed and gentle. 

Then he’s gone. 

Your room is too far up to hear, but you imagine the sound of feet pattering across grass, Reo’s hushed laughter and admonishment for Nagi to keep up. 

You’ve always been Reo’s. As the second daughter of a third consort, you were promised to a foreign power to secure an alliance since before you were born. This is what you were made for. 

After tonight, however, you belong to both of them. 

Reo calls Nagi his guard, but he’s more of a lap dog, in your opinion. He’s terribly lazy, more content to lay his head in your lap under sunshine than fight in tourneys. He’s spoiled. It’s Reo’s fault. 

He’s too indulgent of you both, his princess and his knight. His betrothed and his sworn brother in arms. 

You’re grateful they’re so close. It made things easier for you.

When you first came to this country, no one spoke your language except Reo. He couldn’t be with you all the time, of course, being a king’s son with all of the accompanying responsibilities. It drove you to tears, being treated as this strange foreign princess in a land where no one seemed to even want to try to understand you. 

Except Nagi, who seems to have accepted you as an extension of Reo. 

“I’m surprised,” Reo remarks. “He doesn’t like most people.” 

“You make him sound like a pet,” you laugh, testing the syllables of Reo’s language on your tongue. You’ve grew fluent quickly, thanks to constant practice, but it still requires some effort. 

“Yeah, well,” Reo shrugs helplessly. 

“Woof,” Nagi says, his voice flat. His head is hanging over Reo’s shoulder, half asleep. Reo turns to press a quick kiss to his white hair. 

A steward, far off in the distance, is calling him. An expression of distaste crosses his face, no worse than the one that appears on Nagi’s own when he shrugs the other boy off. 

“Nagi, stay,” Reo orders, as casually as breathing, when his guard tries to follow him. “I need you to watch over my betrothed.” 

Nagi opens his eyes lazily. “Yes, Prince.” 

He sits up, blinking and yawning. His hair is tousled. It lends him charm, making him look somewhat roguish. 

“Since you’re up, why don’t we go to the kitchens? I want to see what they’re making for dinner.” 

You have no such desires. Really, you want to provoke a reaction out of Nagi, and you get what you want. 

“Hm,” he says, thoughtfully, like he’s really considering your proposal. “Nope.” 

Then he drags you back down next to him, rolling you over in the grass like he did when you first met. It startles the same laugh out of you, childish though no longer a child, cheerful and warm. He rests his head on your stomach, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, looking up at you with eyes hidden behind his bangs. You brush his hair away from his face to see him more clearly. 

You know, to an extent, that this is unnatural, worse than wrong. No princess should be this familiar with a knight, even one sworn to her betrothed. Nagi is supposed to be safe and comfortable for this reason - decoration on the walls of the palace, unobtrusive and unassuming, a reminder of your protected status. 

But you fall for it too hard, too easily. Unlike other men, Nagi registers absolutely zero threat in your eyes. It’s not a choice. You’re defenseless by default. 

It doesn’t help that Reo finds it amusing to treat Nagi like your shared pet.  

“What’s the harm,” he says, feeding Nagi off the same spoon he uses to feed you. 

“He’s my knight, don’t mind it,” he says, when he has Nagi wait outside your door while you change to go for a stroll with him. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says, dragging him along on all your dates. “You worry too much, my princess.” 

You know in your gut that Reo’s wrong, that this isn’t normal, that other princesses don’t do this with their knights, but you give in. You also want him there, after all. 

It’s driving you insane. Outside of the bubble of your little trio, the occasional odd glance and comment from a duchess or count will make you remember that it’s not you, everyone else also finds it weird. But when it’s just Nagi and Reo, it’s awkward that you’re the only one who feels strange about it. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Reo shrugs. “Nagi’s my knight. He should always be with me. Unless you’re planning on assassinating me and running away with my crown?” He throws himself over you. “Oh, no, terrible princess from a far off land. Please don’t seduce me and steal my inheritance!” 

“Tease,” you roll your eyes playfully. “If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done it ages ago.” 

He brings your knuckles to his lips. “I know, my dear. I trust you. As much as I trust Nagi.” 

Nagi’s sprawled out at the foot of your bed again. You would think he was asleep but for the lazy patterns he’s tracing on your ankle. He got over his scandalized behavior fast. Reo had it trained out of him. 

He lifts his head at his name. Reo makes a beckoning gesture and Nagi cuddles up to him, drapes himself over his lap even though he’s too big for it.

“See,” Reo coos. “Isn’t he sweet?” 

“I do like Nagi, you know,” you feel strangely defensive. 

Reo smiles at you. “I know.” 

So Nagi continues shadowing the two of you everywhere. 

And you do mean everywhere. 

“Reo,” you whisper. “We’re- um. We’re in bed.” Your voice is strangled by embarrassment. 

“You don’t want him here?” 

Nagi makes a sound of complaint from where he’s sprawled at your feet. 

“It’s not that, it’s just- Well, what will people say?” 

“How will they know?” Reo brings your knuckles to his mouth. His lips follow up your arm to the inside of your elbow. Your shoulder. When he reaches your neck, you moan without meaning to. 

His lips are warm, his tongue wet and firm. It shocks a noise out of you. 

He laughs softly, pushing you down onto the sheets. “Princess,” he coos. “You make such delightful sounds.” 

His weight on top of you is strangely comforting, pinning your legs against the soft fabric. He mouths against your neck again, leaving little bites and kisses. You whimper against your will, unable to control yourself. Heat pools in your stomach. 

“Mm,” Reo hums. His nose brushes against your neck. “You smell so good.” 

“I’m not wearing any perfume,” you confess. 

“I like it better like this,” Reo says. 

He steals the next words out of your mouth. He kisses you open mouthed, the sound of your lips working together loud in the echoing silence of your chambers. 

You open your eyes to see Nagi watching you in the dark. His eyes are luminously bright, shining with interest as he watches Reo’s mouth press insistently against yours. 

The more you let Reo get away with, the more he pushes. He’s not the type to be appeased, only spoiled with the knowledge that you won’t stop him. 

You really shouldn’t be surprised when letting Reo clean you up after getting caught in the rain during one of your walks necessitates Nagi’s presence as well. 

Reo undoes the laces of his pants first, letting them drop to the floor. His boots have been discarded already in some corner. Now he stands in his undershorts and a simple white shirt which he shrugs off with ease. 

“You’re staring,” he says, without turning around. There’s suppressed laughter in his voice. 

Embarrassed, you jolt into action, undoing the laces of your own clothes. It’s so much more complicated than Reo’s. You can’t reach your back to unbutton your dress, but you have bigger problems. 6’3” problems, to be exact. 

Nagi’s slouching against the wall. The steam curls his already tousled hair, making it messier than it was. He’s dressed in a thin, now damp shirt. His sword is buckled haphazardly to his side. The heat must be oppressive, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“He’s guarding us,” Reo says dismissively. “Come here, my sweet, let me help you.” 

You should say no. You should ask Reo to send Nagi away. But somehow, you can’t bring yourself to. 

You try to rationalize it. Reo is the future king. Surely, he knows what’s best. 

But deep down, you know that you have no objections because of your own desires. You simply don’t want to send him away. 

“So many buttons,” Reo murmurs. His breath ghosts over the back of your neck and you shiver. “Do you like making me work for my treats, my lady?” 

You giggle and slap at him lightly. 

“Come here, Nagi,” Reo commands. “Help me.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you stiffen. 

Standing this close to him, is a reminder of how tall he is. Not just in stature, but presence. It’s easy to forget, considering how Reo indulges his laziness, but when he’s silently undoing your clothes, you remember all over again how strong he is. He could rip your dress right off of you and save you both the trouble. Your throat goes dry. 

“Much easier,” Reo says cheerfully. His fingers dip under the collar of your dress and start tugging it off. “You don’t mind, do you, my dear? It’s just Nagi.” 

Just Nagi, you remind yourself, as his eyes sweep your naked form. It’s alright. It’s just Nagi. 

So why does he look so hungry? 

Reo crowds against you from behind you, similarly undressed. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “Don’t you think, Nagi?” 

His guard nods silently. Then, he turns and walks out of the baths. 

“Must’ve gotten too hot for him,” Reo says, unconcerned. “Here, the bath must be warm enough by now. Come in.” 

There is nothing you and Reo do that Nagi is not a part of. He’s already slept in your bed, drawn your baths while you stood by naked. There seem to be no more boundaries left between you, or so you assume. 

Reo can think of one.

“Kiss her,” Reo tells Nagi softly. It’s late at night, and the three of you are deep in glasses of wine and even headier conversation. Your fiancé looks irresistible across from you. His fine, aristocratic features make him look like a painting in candlelight. 

Nagi leans over obediently. It’s a joke at first, kissing over Reo’s shoulder. It’s Nagi’s mouth but it’s Reo’s scent, woodsy and clean. You’re doing it because Reo asked you to. It’s just a silly little game. 

Reo strokes your back soothingly as you whimper into Nagi’s mouth. He kisses like he’s claiming you. That’s the best way to describe it, the forceful nature of Nagi’s desire. 

“He’s an animal, isn’t he?” He chuckles. “Be gentle with her. I always have to tell you to be less rough, Nagi.” 

“Sorry.” His voice is scratchy. 

“Here,” Reo suggests. “Let’s move onto the bed.” 

He directs you like the master of a play, moving you as he sees most fit. 

“Stick your tongue out,” Reo croons at you. “Let Nagi suck on it. He wants to.” 

The way Nagi kisses you is sloppy. There’s spit everywhere, but the wet friction just makes it better. You squeeze your thighs together as he pants into your mouth, licking into it, sucking on your tongue. He’s no better, pumping his hips down into the mattress desperately with need.

“Go on,” Reo murmurs, stroking Nagi’s back. “There’s a good boy. Angle your head.” 

“Princess, you’re drooling,” he laughs. “Or is that Nagi’s?” 

“Nagi,” he says, his voice dripping with adoration. “You’re so excited.” 

“Oh,” he notices your expression. You’re barely holding on. “Should I stop talking?” 

You shake your head, unable to speak, and reach out to tangle your fingers in his. His expression melts into something soft and hungry, raw tenderness and want on his face. He leans over Nagi to press a chaste kiss against your lips. 

“You’re all messy,” he chides without heat in it. A gentle hand swipes a trail of spit off your chin. 

Nagi moans under him. “Reo, Reo,” his name a constant in his mouth. “Don’t stop.” 

You look down to see Reo’s hand stroking Nagi over his pants, working him to a hardness - for you? 

Reo nudges your head back up, his cheek pressed against yours. “What’s wrong?” He says. “You’re distracted.” 

It’s so hard to focus when Nagi’s so vocal under the two of you. Your core throbs with heated desire. 

“I know, I know,” Reo coos. “I’m being mean.” 

His hands trail down your sides, barely brushing your skin. It’s almost ticklish, makes you shiver with anticipation for where he’ll touch you next. Nagi whimpers with the loss of his hand, but Reo doesn’t make him suffer for long. 

“I shouldn’t keep you waiting.” He says to you, pushing your sticky thighs apart. “Nagi, come kiss your princess again.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured VI

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Jenni returns to you

Mapi and Ingrid come over a lot now that you don't see Mami. They visit you and Tia Alba all the time and bring you things like new trains and toys and Ingrid even buys you new ballet pumps when you tearfully tell her that you left your ones at Mami's home.

It's different living with Tia Alba. She works from home a lot and she has plenty of time for you. That's a little weird, you think. The attention is nice but it's a little scary.

All of this is a little scary.

Last week, when Abuela came to see you and you asked the bad question, she cried. Abuela cried and cried and you cried too. She said that she would fix this, she promised you that she would fix this but one look at Tia Alba's face told you that no one was sure that this could be fixed.

You wish things were back to normal. You don't want to live with Mami right now but you miss her. You miss the Mami from before, who would take you to the train store after her games and read you fun bedtime stories with all the special voices.

You miss the Mami who would give you little kisses all over your face and call you her most favourite little girl in the whole entire world. You miss the Mami who would let you crawl into bed with her and sit on her knee before a game.

But now, Mami loves Miss Olga and baby Jaume and the train store near Mami's house is shutting down.

There is no Before anymore and you don't think you can get the Before back ever again.

You don't see Mami and you don't want to, even if you really miss her sometimes. Tia Alba looks like Mami and sometimes you can pretend that she is Mami, if you close your eyes and try really hard.

Tia Alba gives you cuddles and kisses and plays trains with you and takes you to your ballet lessons on time. If you try really hard and squeeze your eyes shut nice and tight, you can pretend that it's Mami doing those things and you're in the Before again, when it was just you and her.

"We have a surprise for you," Mapi says as she gets ready to leave," Me and Ingrid. Would you like to see it?"

A surprise makes you scared. Mami told you about baby Jaume as a surprise too.

You look up at Tia Alba and she nods in encouragement so you nod as well.

Ingrid covers your eyes and that makes you nervous too, straining your ears.

You don't want the surprise to be Mami. You really, really don't want it to be Mami.

"How's my favourite little girl in the entire world?"

Ingrid's hands peal away from your eyes and you're already moving.

The arms around you feel nice and safe. You're tucked securely into the neck of a very familiar body. Familiar hands card through your hair and squeeze you with just the right amount of pressure that makes you go all limp and boneless.

You sniffle.

"Jenni?"

"Hi, Bambi," She coos at you. Kisses land on the top of your head.

You don't even notice Mapi and Ingrid leaving, so nice and secure in Jenni's arms.

"I missed you," You whisper.

"I missed you too. I always miss my favourite little girl."

You sniffle again, pulling away. You don't believe her. Mami used to say the same thing. You want to believe Jenni but you don't because you believed Mami once and all she did was lie to you.

"I missed you so, so much. See?" Jenni says. One hand lets go of you to pull out her phone. She turns on her lock screen.

It's a picture of you and her from the last time you saw each other.

You're smiling and Jenni's smiling too and more tears run unchecked down your cheeks.

"I missed you, Jenni," You whimper.

"I missed you too, Bambi. Do you want another cuddle?"

You nod.

You're absolutely tiny compared to her, so tiny and weak and completely broken. Jenni could scarcely believe it when Mapi called out of the blue.

She was in the middle of training but something told her to pick up and she did. The words came out of Mapi's mouth like an avalanche and Jenni didn't believe them.

"Alexia wouldn't neglect Bambi," She'd replied," Don't be stupid, Mapi. Bambi is the greatest thing in her life."

It was only later that Jenni realised that maybe she was projecting. You were the greatest thing in her life and had been since you were born.

You were even smaller than you were now, swaddled in a pale pink blanket Jenni had seen at a store one day and bought randomly. You had fit so beautifully in her arms with your tiny little limbs. You were everything and more and Jenni had felt jealousy stir within her that you were Alexia's.

You were the greatest thing in Jenni's life and she couldn't understand that there was a world where you weren't the greatest thing in Alexia's too.

You still fit so perfectly against her, like when you were younger, even though you're so different to then. You're so different yet completely the same.

Your trains are scattered around Alba's living room floor. You swing your legs when Jenni picks you up and you rest your head against her shoulder until all she can feel are the soft, sleepy puffs of your breath against her neck.

"You didn't have to come," Alba says softly," I don't want you to miss your matches."

"I took time off," Jenni says dismissively as she moves you until you're tucked more securely against her, completely asleep after crying yourself out," Bambi comes first."

"Jenni-"

"I almost adopted her, you know," Jenni cuts her off, blinking her own tears away," When Alexia and I were still together. Everything was nearly finished. I still have the papers. I'd signed everything. I just needed Alexia's signature giving her permission."

It's new information to Alba, clearly, but Jenni had assumed that. It was meant to be a quiet thing, a surprise for you and the rest of the family.

"And then you broke up," Alba replies.

"And then we broke up." Jenni looks down at you. Even in your sleep, you look troubled, your hand tightly making a fist around her shirt like you're afraid that she's going to disappear. "I was still happy to go through with it but I was going to Mexico and Alexia thought it would cause too much stress on Bambi. She was right, of course, but...I can't believe she's done this."

Jenni's still in shock from it all. She'd left for Mexico thinking that you would be loved, that you would be so loved by Alexia and whoever she ended up with, whoever else would adopt you in Jenni's stead. She didn't think anything like this was even possible.

"Have you got a place to stay?"

"There's a hotel-"

"Stay here," Alba says," I've only got one spare room but I don't think Bambi minds sharing. She's been sleeping with me most nights anyway."

If Jenni didn't care as much, she'd try to resist but you feel so soft and small against her that she doesn't care. She doesn't want to get a hotel room across the city. She wants to be right here, with you.

"Thank you, Alba."

"She's got ballet at three. You can take her if you want. Parents can stay in the reception area and watch."

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, it's to the shocking realisation that Jenni is real. She's real and she's holding you, lounging back on the sofa and watching tv. She's holding you and she lays soft kisses on top of your head every so often. She's laying soft kisses on your head and her nails are gently scratching at your back.

"We've got ballet soon," She whispers to you when she notices your staring," Do you feel better?"

You nod, dropping your head back down onto her chest as more kisses rain down on top of you.

"Do you enjoy ballet?" Jenni asks. Her voice is still soft and low and it wraps you up in a nice bubble that feels like the Before.

"Yes." Your voice is as equally quiet and soft.

"More than football?"

The thought of football makes your stomach go wavy. It churns and swirls and your throat closes up. "Mami was upset," You whisper," Because I was not very good when she took me."

A few months before Jaume was born, Mami took you to a team of kids your age. She had watched you with eagle eyes the whole time as the other kids left you in the dust. She hadn't yelled. She hadn't screamed but she had gone quiet.

You'd asked her what was wrong when she was driving home, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white.

"Nothing is wrong," She'd said to you," I'm just disappointed."

She'd taken you back a few more times but every time it was the same. Every day ended with 'I'm just disappointed'.

It was Abuela that told Mami to put you into ballet, spending weeks convincing her that you not playing football wasn't the end of the world.

You're scared Jenni is going to be the same so you scrunch your eyes up tight and wait for this familiar words.

"Do you really like ballet?" Jenni asks instead.

You wonder if this is a trick. You don't know what you're supposed to say so you settle on the truth. Tia Alba always tells you that you can't get in trouble for saying the truth.

"I think I like it more than I like my trains," You murmur and Jenni lands a kiss on your head.

"Well, you've got ballet in a bit," Jenni says," Is it okay if I come to watch?"

"Please, Jenni."

The ballet studio wasn't too far from Alba's house, a walkable distance between it and Alexia's.

You seemed to get more and more excited the closer you got until you were practically vibrating as Jenni swapped your trainers for your ballet pumps, twisting your hair back into a bun for you.

There's a space of parents to sit and wait, able to peer in on the session through the glass doors.

"I haven't seen you here before," One of the mothers say," Usually, Alexia drops her off and leaves. It's nice that someone is staying."

"I'm Jenni."

"y/n's other mother then? It's nice to meet you."

Jenni knows that she should correct this woman. You're not hers. You're Alexia's. But...she doesn't. She doesn't correct her because, just this once, she wants to live this fantasy where you're hers and you're happy.

"You too," Jenni says, neither confirming or denying this woman's assumption.

Her eyes don't stray from you, not even for a second. You're more animated than Jenni thinks you've been in a while. You're smiling and you're moving and that lingering air of sadness is almost completely gone.

Jenni could pretend that you were happy if it weren't for the fact that you keep glancing out the door, looking genuinely surprised that she's there every time you make eye contact.

"It's so nice that she has someone to support her," The mum from earlier continues," It's such a shame that Alexia never stays to watch. She's so talented."

Jenni's eyes stray to the door, a bolt of lightning shooting down her spine when she notices a very familiar women trying to peer through the reception doors.

"Excuse me." Jenni dismisses herself. She grabs the woman's arm as soon as she's out the door. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here. I heard Eli banned you from seeing her."

There's a fire in Alexia's eyes that tells Jenni all she needs to know. This wasn't a coincidence.

"How can I make amends if none of you let me see her? What are you even doing here, huh? Last I checked, you live in Mexico."

"And last I checked you were a good mother!"

Jenni balls her hands up into fists to stop herself from lashing out. She pushes away from Alexia, taking a few deep breaths away.

"Just...go away, Alexia."

"No!" Alexia looks half to tears. "No, I won't! That's my baby in there! I just want to see if she's okay!"

"She's going to be okay! But you need to leave her alone!"

"I'm her mother! I shouldn't have to leave her alone! She's mine!"

Jenni sighs, turning her back to her ex. "Go, Ale."

"Jenni...Jenni, please. That's my baby."

Jenni ignores her, shoving the door open and letting it swing shut right in Alexia's face.

"Coparenting issues?" The mother from earlier asks. She tuts. "I remember those days. It'll get better."

Jenni makes a noise of acknowledgement and focuses back on you.

When you come out nearly an hour later, you're so excited, grabbing Jenni's hand and pulling her all the way over to your dance teacher.

"You're not Alexia," The woman says.

"Jenni. Jenni Hermoso. I'm y/n's-"

She has to stop herself. She's not sure what to say. She's not your mother. She's not your step-mother. She's the woman that could have adopted you, once upon a time.

"I'm Jenni," She settles on.

"Well, Jenni, if you could pass this along to Alexia? I run another class on Thursdays for the more..." She glances around, lowering her voice. "Advanced students. I really think your y/n would fit right in."

She hands Jenni a permission slip and information pack and Jenni just nods dumbly, one hand holding yours and the other this stack of papers.

"Er...yeah," She says," I'll get it to her."

The teacher smiles and bids you goodbye as the older children flood into her studio.

"Advanced, huh?" Jenni says, beaming at you as she hoists you up onto her hip.

You don't make eye contact. "Is that okay? Mami says sometimes that dance is hard to fit in with her schedule."

"I'm not Mami," Jenni says, her eyes flicking to where Alexia is standing in the car park, just watching," It fits perfectly into my schedule."

Alexia looks pathetic, Jenni thinks. She looks small and curled in on herself, nothing like the strong Barcelona captain she knows Alexia is. She looks exhausted too, more exhausted than someone with just a simple newborn.

It's eating her up inside, Jenni knows this but she can find no sympathy in her for the woman she once dreamed of parenting you with.

She dug her grave. Now she must lie in it.

But Jenni's certain that she's not going to let Alexia bury you too.

"That's Mami." Your smile drops from your face and your shoulders slump when you notice Alexia.

"It is," Jenni confirms, standing in the middle of the pavement.

She doesn't want Alexia to see you but she doesn't want you to stop seeing Alexia if you want to see her.

"Is she here to take me away?" Your voice wobbles and you look over at your Mami from under your lashes.

"I think she's just here to see how your lesson went."

"She got me a train and another present," You whisper," I haven't opened them. Will she be angry at me?"

"No, Bambi," Jenni says and her next words taste like ash in her mouth," Your Mami loves you too much to be angry at you."

"And she won't take me from you?"

"No one is going to take you from me."

You bite at your lip and Jenni hates the uncertainty in your eyes. "Can...Can we see Mami?"

"If you want."

"Please, Jenni."

Her steps are careful and measured and Alexia stands up straight when she notices you both coming. She wipes her hands on her shirt and straightens out her clothes.

Jenni places you on the ground and Alexia kneels, her arms open for you.

You shy away, ducking behind Jenni's legs and peaking out.

Alexia feels like crying as she drops her arms. "Hola, Bambi," She says, trying to control the wobble in her voice," How was dance?"

"Good," You say," I...My teacher says I can move up. She gave Jenni papers."

Alexia frowns, her eyes flicking up to Jenni. "That's nice."

Jenni holds the papers out to her. "It's a permission slip and information pack," She says," For the advanced class. Bambi is very good at ballet."

Alexia flashes you a smile. "That's good, isn't it, Bambi? You're very good at ballet, huh?"

Your head bobs up and down. "My teacher thinks so."

"I'm very proud of you."

The look of shock on your face is heartbreaking, like you can't quite believe she's saying those words to you.

"Really?" Tears glisten in your eyes and Alexia hates herself for what she's done. You never used to be so uncertain around her.

Her throat closes up and she has to push past the lump to speak again. "So, so proud of you, Bambi. I'm glad you're doing so well at ballet. Maybe I can come and watch soon."

It's clear in that moment that Alexia has maybe pushed too far. The wounds of your neglect are still too raw for you, still open and weeping blood.

You recoil again and squeeze Jenni's hand.

"I have Jenni," You say," She watches me dance."

The look on Alexia's face is heartbroken and finally, Jenni feels the smallest bit of pity.

"Maybe not soon," She says, a hand stroking down the flyaways from your bun," Maybe one day."

"Maybe one day," You repeat softly and Alexia gives you a watery kind of smile in response.

"Maybe one day," She confirms. She stands properly again, looking at the papers in her hand. "I'll...I'll get these back to you signed off soon."

Jenni nods. "I'll talk to your mother. Supervised visits might not be out of the question."

"Thank you."

Jenni picks you up again as Alexia gets into her car. You don't leave her arms all the way back to Alba's place.

Jenni wasn't your mother. There was a chance, a long time ago, that she could have been but Alexia never signed on the dotted line, a line drawn in the sand that's now a gaping chasm.

Jenni isn't your mother but that doesn't mean she doesn't wish she was.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Charm Me | Jeon Jungkook | Two Shot | Part One

Summary: Your best friend's boyfriend's best friend is not someone you had planned on falling for, and honestly you hardly admit it to yourself most days but maybe, just maybe there's something you can do to test those waters... Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (semi friends to lovers lol) Word Count: 7k~ Warnings: Some curses here and there but nothing major. a/n: Kay so this was supposed to be a one shot but I didn't finish it in time and I wanted to get something out for Valentine's Day so I hope you guys enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited per usual so please excuse any mistakes. I legit decided last minute to make this a two shot lol.

"Come on y/n let's go!" Sadie pleads practically dragging me through the parking lot. "Someone's excited" I laugh, dragging my feet a little to make her task even harder, eventually yanking me through a heart littered archway. 

"You finally agreed to come with me to the Valentine's Festival after I had been begging you for years! How could I not be excited?" she says as though her degree of excitement is warranted but with her, excitement is always easy to conjure.

"I've never had a reason to come since I've been single for years" I roll my eyes, the whole thing seemingly pointless if you ask me. "Yet here you are, still single and gracing me with your presence" she says accompanied by a dramatic curtsy, very fitting this time since she happens to be wearing a dress. 

Her cute coquette style mismatched with my dark and moody nature is a laughable dichotomy. 

Her pink ballet flats walk next to my all black combat boots, the ribbons swaying in her hair stand in stark contrast to the way the light catches on my silver chains, leaving us quite the odd pairing.

"You know, if you keep on hanging on my arm like that people are gonna think we're lesbians" I sigh, not making an effort to pull away. "Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine" she teases and I roll my eyes. 

"Pretty sure Jayson would have a problem with that" I say, pealing her off of me leaving her pouting before grabbing my hand instead and pulling me over to the first of many stalls that line this festival. 

"Just because Jayson is my boyfriend doesn't mean he has to be my Valentine...plus he hasn't asked me yet" she sighs dramatically for the fifth time today, a common theme for the past couple of days whenever this topic is brought up. 

"You know you could always, I don't know... ask him" I say and her brows furrow leaving me poking the wrinkle on her forehead to make her stop. 

"What a ridiculous thing to say" she scoffs and walks off to the next stand leaving me shaking my head and following after her. 

Sadie is someone I've been friends with for as long as I can remember. Long enough to have known each other before we made the dramatic split in our senses of style. I'd love to burn the pictures of me in Abercrombie skinny jeans and brightly colored Hollister polos but alas they will forever haunt my memories. 

At least I had Sadie though. I wouldn't leave her in the past no matter how many embarrassing stories she's in possession of.

"No way!" she squeals and pulls me over to another stall that's caught her eye. "If you keep on yanking on my arm like that you'll eventually pull it off" I say while rolling my shoulder, making it a point to prevent her from doing so again. 

"Sorry" she laughs awkwardly and tries to check on me but I assure her I'm fine, choosing to direct her attention to the table she decided to pull me towards this time.

"Love potions? Really? Jayson is already head over heels for you Sadie, I doubt you'll need help keeping him around" I roll my eyes and try to move onto to the next stall but she pulls me back, gently this time thankfully, clearly enthralled with the concept.

"Not for me silly, for you!" she justifies and takes a closer look, making the mysterious and lowkey sketchy woman behind the table hopeful that she'll get another sucker to fall for her tricks. 

"Why would I need a love potion? Last time I checked there's not a man in my life that I'd want to fall in love with me" I say and she cocks a brow at me. "Bullshit" she says, using language that I've hardly every heard from her. 

"Someone's feisty today" I chuckle making her expression sour. "What? There's literally no guy I could think of that I'd want to use that on" I reiterate but we both know I'm lying. 

But I'm not gonna give that information up though even if she tries to beat it out of me.

"Whatever you say" she huffs and moves onto the next stall.

The rest of our time here is spent doing the same thing over and over again with Sadie trying to find something for Jayson and me just following along getting hungrier by the second as we inch closer and closer to the food stalls that are annoyingly full of food items that look like hearts and roses but I couldn't care less when they smell that good. 

"Alright come on dude I'm starving" I say when she's finished paying, still engaged in a conversation with the shop keeper that has been convincing her to buy too many useless things but it's no skin off my nose if she wants to use her daddy's money to buy that nonsense. 

"Hey! I was still talking to her" she whines but follows since after my not so subtle mention of needing sustenance she's starting to realize she's just as starving if not more than me when she see's that they're selling heart shaped waffles. 

"Okay but afterwards I want to check out a few more stalls!" she compromises and switches to pulling me along again to get in the ever growing line of hungry customers.

~~~~

After we've each successfully gained a food baby each Sadie pops around and looks at a few more stalls with me very much ready for a nap. 

But let's be honest, I'm always ready for a nap.

"Hey why don't you pull the car around and I'll check out the last few stalls on my own" she suggests but I know she's up to something. 

"Why?" I question watching her eyes shift over to a certain stall in particular. "That way it'll safe us a little bit of time and we can get out of here sooner" she explains but I sigh and agree, knowing the faster we get out of here, the better from my perspective at least. 

"I'll call you when I get closer to the entrance" I say and she smiles and waves me off while I make the trek back to her car on my own, having brought her car so I would have no means of escape.

When I finally pull up she hops in with at least two or three more bags than she had when I left. "What did you buy?" I ask but all I'm granted is a little giggle accompanied by a no where near suspicious 'Nothing' leaving me rolling my eyes for the last time tonight, knowing that her childlike excitement when it comes to these things truly is endearing to me, but she'll never know that. 

~~~~

Once Sadie unlocks the door to her apartment we both head over to the table to set down her countless purchases. 

"Did you really need another perfume?" I ask, holding up the pink ish stained glass bottle to the light leaving her taking it out of my hands and putting it back on the table. "It's not perfume it's room mist. It's supposed to make the space feel more romantic" she says, giving a shortened version of the sales pitch she no doubt got. 

"Right...romantic" I chuckle knowing that it'll probably just be a cheaply made lightly scented mist that's supposed to be all natural with health benefits too but I won't burst her bubble on this one since I know there's enough romance to spare when it comes to her and Jayson. 

I swear I can barely stand being alone with them but luckily that's gotten a little better lately. 

"I should probably get going soon" I say looking at the clock after I've helped her put everything away for safe keeping, code word for away from Jayson's prying eyes. "Wait why?" she pouts, "I thought you were gonna stay for movie night" she says as if I just told her that she can't wear pink on Wednesdays. 

"I don't wanna watch a movie with you and your boyfriend" I cringe at the idea of being left in a room with those two. "Yeah but he's bringing J-" she starts to argue but is cut off by a rhythmic knock on her front door making her expression go from sulking to smug.

"Can you get the door?" she asks and goes back to the kitchen to get the movies snacks ready. "I'm not your butler S" I call back out but my only response is her happily humming and completely ignoring me. 

I walk over to the door and open it with Jayson's hand raised up about to knock again which he luckily doesn't because he wouldn't knocked on my forehead instead. 

"Impatient are we?" I ask and lean against the doorway, making his efforts of seeing Sadie last a little while longer. "Hi y/n, is Sadie around?" he chuckles, glad he didn't accidentally make an enemy of me tonight. "I mean this is her apartment" I say and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Yeah I guess you're right" he says making me smirk, knowing I'm playing to scary best friend role perfectly. Looks like he took the threat of me castrating him if he ever hurt Sadie pretty seriously still. "In the kitchen" I say and widen the door, letting him slip past me but when I go to close it I'm met with another person trying to come in right behind him.

"Hey y/n" his deep voice says, no doubt trying to play it cool since he's probably heard that story before as well. "Didn't know you were coming" I say, my tone neutral as I widen the door for him. 

"Yeah Jayson said something about a movie night? I heard you were gonna be here so I thought I'd tag along...if that's alright with you of course" Jungkook say, backtracking and clearly embarrassed for admitting that he wanted to see me.

"I mean it's a free country" I shrug my shoulders and close the door, with him waiting for me to lead the way even though he's been here quite a few times already since Sadie and Jayson got together. "Right" he chuckles, not adding much more than that, letting the conversation die.

"Hi baby" Jayson says making Sadie giggle and I avert my eyes before I have to witness another kiss of theirs leaving me bumping into Jungkook's chest, not having expected him to be that close. With him as a result wrapping his arm around me to make sure I don't stumble from the impact. 

"Sorry I-" he says but I just unwrap his arm around my waist. "It's fine. I was just a little too dramatic in trying to save myself from witnessing their love" I roll my eyes leaving Sadie pouting but I can tell she's clearly satisfied with seeing Jungkook and I so close. 

"Makes sense" he said and rubs the back of his neck and watches as I make my way over to the couch with him soon following my lead. 

He's been like this almost since the beginning once he realized that my moody exterior wasn't aimed at him just because he was a stranger but was just a part of my character. Although I'm pretty sure I still make him nervous, he doesn't seem to mind it anymore.

Just like clockwork he sits on one side of the couch while I sit on the other, never crossing spacial boundaries unless necessary or out of convenience like that one time I got roped into sitting in the middle in the backseat next to him on our trip to the beach since we needed more space for the stuff we brought with us. 

Curse you Sadie and your tiny car. 

I don't even know why we ended up taking her car since it's the smallest out of the four of ours but alas. The result of which was Jungkook's arm draped across the back seat to offer me some more space with me eventually falling asleep on him. Resulting in me lowkey avoiding him after the fact until I realized how ridiculous I was being.

Sadie had also been guilt tripping me at that time about how sad he had been and how lonely he looked hanging out with just her and Jayson and so I finally gave in, knowing I couldn't do this forever. Plus it wasn't like it was his fault or anything. Swimming always makes me sleepy and I should've warned him about that. 

He didn't make it a big deal about it when I came back thankfully since I already had to deal with enough teasing from my often merciless best friend so we were luckily able to act as though it never happened. Although ever since then it's happened quite a few times...

"Hey Jungkook do you think you could let me use the arm rest tonight?" Jayson calls out sounding not in the slightest bit suspicious but all of us know what he's doing and Sadie clearly has clearly put him up to it.

"Oh um" Jungkook starts but when he not so subtly glances over in my direction I decide to just put the boy out of his misery. "You can use mine. Sadie and I can sit in the middle" I say resulting in me having to sit next to Jungkook for the next two or so hours.

When I glance at him I can see how the new seating arrangement has made him nervous and so I decide to torture the boy a little. "As long as that's okay with you Jungkook?" I ask, tilting my head at him which has him nervously glancing back over at me before clearing his throat and practically squirming him his seat before nodding 'yes'. 

"Perfect!" Sadie says and with the help of Jayson brings over all the snacks and presses play on the pre approved movie from our group chat debate.  

~~~~

As the movie drags on I watch my vision go in and out of focus, leaving me shaking my head in an effort to try and wake myself up. "You okay?" Jungkook whispers and I hum. "Just a little sleepy" I respond assuring him I'm alright. He hums back and adjusts his posture, draping his arm around the couch, as a not so subtle invitation for me to lean on him.

The corner of my mouth turns up at that and I can tell that he noticed it, making him not as nervous about his offer anymore.

The dynamic between Jungkook and I has been...peculiar to say the least. 

I wouldn't consider him a close friend or even a friend really. Maybe more like a friend by proxy since we do end up spending a lot of time together. With both of our best friends insisting that the two of us tag along with neither of us having the real desire to tell them no. 

We've had a good conversation here and there when Sadie and Jayson are wrapped up in their own little world but I won't lie to you when I say that there have been some days or nights where we just sit in silence, watching the love birds do what they do.

If you ask me though it's never felt awkward. Has he been awkward and nervous? Yes. But it doesn't really bother me either. 

I wouldn't say that I seek out his company but I can't say that I don't feel a little disappointed when he's not around. More like there's something missing because obviously someone is missing, plus I'm forced to pay more attention to the two of them if it's just me.

It's times like that when he works up the courage to text me. Explaining why he wasn't able to make it as though he felt obligated to do so but he makes sure to offer me an ear when I want to complain about the nonsense those two get up to or what they managed to rope me into.

He sends funny memes to cheer me up, somehow knowing my sense of humor perfectly or complains to me in return about how boring and monotonous his job can be making me smile when he tells me he has to go because his boss is watching. As though he was a nervous teenager that couldn't spend a second away from his crush.

He couldn't have a crush on me could he? No, no that's not right. 

I let my thoughts of Jungkook drift off, the low hum of the TV soon lulling me to sleep resulting in me leaning against him, with him adjusting his posture to make it more comfortable for me, his arm soon migrating from resting on the back of the couch to loosely around my waist.

Something I've always noticed when I wake up though is that he's so comfortable. As though being this close to him feels natural. I will admit that when I've partially stirred awake and realized what I'd done I don't make an effort to wake up or pull away, indulging in the comfort for just a little while longer.

I feel bad though for the times that I wake up and he has to leave right away or when Sadie pulls me over and let's me lay on her lap to continue sleeping, making it a little easier for him to head out. It's as though he waits until the very last minute just to let me sleep a little while longer, not wanting to disturb me for as long as he can.

Tonight isn't one of those nights though, the ones where he has somewhere to go or some place to be. 

He just stays there, being as still as he can, letting me cuddle up to him as little or as much as I want to, eventually helping me lay my head down on his lap once Jayson and Sadie turn in for the night. The position being the slightest bit more comfortable this time with me eventually waking up three hours after the movie had finished.

My head is resting on his upper thigh, with my face basically buried into his torso but he doesn't seem to mind when I turn onto my back and see him absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. 

"What time is it?" I mumble, slightly startling him but he smiles at my groggy state soon after. "One thirty" he mumbles back, keeping his voice down so he doesn't force me awake too quickly. 

"You could've woken me up" I say, slowly sitting up and stretching before straightening out my appearance just the slightest bit. "I didn't have anywhere to be so I thought I'd just let you sleep" he shrugs and I hum. "Plus you seemed pretty exhausted so I thought you could use the rest" he adds and I can't help but give him a soft, hardly conscious smile. 

"Thanks" and he just smiles back at me. We sit there for a little while, and he eventually hands me a bottle of water that's on the coffee table to hopefully help me wake up but after a while I sigh and rest back back against the couch again. 

"What?" he chuckles, sensing my struggle. "Sadie was supposed to give me a ride home" I huff, realizing the predicament I've been put in, just because I wanted to get some shut eye. 

"I can give you a ride" he chuckles, seeing the clear solution but I shake my head. 

"I can't just keep you here and use you as my human pillow then have you give me a ride home as well" I counter but he just smiles. "It's really not a big deal" he counters and I sigh again, knowing he's probably not gonna take no for an answer. 

I can't help but get this...this indescribable feeling in my stomach that I so desperately want to ignore when I think about being alone with him. We are alone right now but that somehow seems...different.

"I have to go somewhere on your side of town anyways so your place is on my way" he says making me smile at his blatant lie. "At two in the morning?" I chuckle, checking my phone and quickly turning down the brightness so it won't blind me anymore.

"Yeah it's uh...open for twenty four hours" he say, making excuses to fit his claims. "You're lying to me aren't you?" I say, calling him out making him look down at his lap, slightly defeated seeing his excuse didn't work this time. 

"Yeah" he mumbles making me smile. "You could always just say that you want to give me a ride" I chuckle and from the way he clears his throat and looks away I can tell that that sentence has a completely different meaning to him than I had intended. 

"I um...I want to give you a ride...home. A ride home" he stammers, the whole interaction quite amusing to me. "Sure, I'd like that" I say and stand up with him getting up immediately, patting his pockets and making sure he has his keys. 

I grab my purse and make sure I have everything I need as well and when he sees that I didn't bring a warm jacket he gives me the other one he brought that he had put aside when he came in. "What's this for?" I ask, taking it suspiciously and draping it over my arm. 

"We're just walking to your car right? Pretty sure I don't need this for that short of a walk" I say and try to hand it back to him. He takes it back but instead wraps it around me and helps me put it on regardless, even going through the effort of zipping it up for me. 

"Trust me, you'll need it" he smiles softly after seeing how it fits me, clearly satisfied seeing me wearing something of his. 

"I look silly don't I?" I say, turning towards the full length mirror Sadie has in her entry way but he chuckles and shakes his head, standing behind me and looking at me through the reflection. 

"It looks perfect on you" he says just as soft as his smile and opens the door, urging for me to go in true gentlemanly like fashion leaving me rolling my eyes but going along with his efforts nonetheless. 

I lock up the apartment with my spare key and follow him as he leads me to what I had expected to be his usual black BMW but what I'm met with is an equally as black Harley Davidson with him unlocking the compartment in the back and handing me his spare helmet. 

This item although I don't take so willingly.

"You're joking right?" I scoff and cross my arms, the longer sleeves from his jacket by design giving me sweater paws making my stance a whole less defiant than I wanted. A pouty aura now stands in it's place.

"What? Never ridden a motorcycle before?" he smirks and walks over to me, choosing to put it on for me since he's pretty sure I wouldn't do it from my argument against this whole idea to begin with. 

"No I haven't and I don't plan to" I huff and try to take it off but he chuckles and holds it down against my head making me accept defeat with this part at least. Just because I put on the helmet doesn't mean I actually have to ride it. 

"You scared?" he chuckles, adjusting the strap under my chin and making sure it fits just right, smiling, satisfied with his work, amused with my soured expression. "I am not scared!" I argue and he smirks. 

"Then what's the problem sweetheart?" he says, his first time even daring to use a pet name with me catching me off guard. 

"The problem is, sweetheart, is that I don't wan't to. Those things are dangerous!" I argue and he smiles before putting his helmet on as well and taking my bag to place it in the back seat compartment and closes it. 

"Hey!" I argue when I realize what he's done, trying to get it back but it seems it locks automatically leaving my efforts sans key useless.

"Do you trust me?" he asks and my brows furrow, honestly not knowing the answer yet making me look away. "Y/n" he says, placing both of his hands on my shoulders and urging me to look at him leaving me ultimately relenting.

"Do you trust me?" he repeats, all the times I've let him in even in the slightest rushing through my psyche. Hell even just moments ago when I had been asleep and in a vulnerable state I trusted him to watch over me and so I nod my head. 

Admitting to him and myself that I've let him in, that I've let him break down these walls that I've built up even in the slightest making the sides of his eyes crinkle, the mask like helmet making it impossible to see his complete expression. 

"Good, now get on"

~~~~

I hold onto him as tight as I possibly can while he safely swerves between lanes and warns me when he's about to go around a bend and I can tell that everything about this predicament amuses him. 

"You know you can relax a little when we hit red lights" he calls out to me over the roar of the engine but my only answer is a quick 'Nope' while I grasp onto him tighter, his reactions always a dark chuckle that I can feel through his back that's pressed impossibly close to my chest the tighter I cling to him. 

At those red lights though he tends to remind me to keep my legs spread just a little wider, making sure I don't burn my calves on the hot metal of the bike. Placing both of his hands on my knees and spreading them a little wider. The act alone in this case is innocent but in others that I curse my mind for wandering to is anything but that.

"Hey" he calls out, the roar of his Harley no longer audible making his voice seem that much louder. "Yeah?" I ask, still completely clueless as to what he's trying to alert me to. "You can let go now" he chuckles, the sound no longer just felt but heard makes me pull back, so thankful his back is turned to me still.

"Sorry, I didn't realize we had gotten here already" I say and he shakes his head and pulls off his helmet before getting off and leaving me sliding down a little on the seat, loosing my balance and grabbing onto the handlebars. 

"I thought you said you didn't like motorcycles" he taunts and I huff. "I don't" I roll my eyes making him even more amused. "Really? Because you look like you're about to steal it from me" he points out, nodding towards my hands that are very much still on the handle bars. 

I let go of it as though I had burned myself and quickly getting off the bike, losing my balance and making Jungkook on instinct grabs my hips to keep me on my feet. 

After regaining my composure and realizing the predicament we're in leave me the one to call in back to reality. My hands although are still very much holding onto his biceps with his hands still gripping my hips with an almost bruising strength. 

I look up at him, seeing as he's looking down at me, an unreadable expression written on his face as though he was struggling with something leaving me really having to break him out of his train of thought. 

"Jungkook?" I say, loosening my grip on his arms. "Hmm?" he hums, still clearly lost in whatever thoughts had been holding him hostage, still looking at me but almost as if he couldn't focus on one feature. 

"Jungkook?" I say again, this time smiling and that breaks him out of it a bit more. "You can let go now" I laugh, leaving him blinking and letting go, taking a step back making both of our arms fall at our sides now. 

"Sorry um...are you okay?" he asks, remembering the fact that I almost fell on my ass. "I'm fine, are you?" I tilt my head at him leaving him looking away, a rosy tint deepening on his cheeks even in this twilight surrounding us. 

"Can you help me with this?" I ask after trying to struggle and get the helmet off leaving his mouth utter a inaudible 'oh' before stepping closer again and unbuckling the intricate strap under my chin. 

"See, home safe and sound" he chuckles after putting the helmets away and giving me my bag back. "Slightly traumatized but safe nonetheless" I say making the corner of his mouth turn up. 

"It wasn't that bad was it?" he asks with him now tilting his head at me, now understanding his reaction to when I do it. "Never make me do that again" I huff and turn to walk away and when I hear the sound of two sets of foot steps instead of one I turn around and watch as his steps stutter and come to a halt. 

"What?" he asks when he's met with a confused look. "What are you doing?" I ask and he's now the one rolling his eyes at me. "Walking you to the door?" he nods towards my front door making me cross my arms over my chest. 

"Why?" I cock my brow, "I'm perfectly capable of walking there myself" I argue but he looks down and chuckles. "I know, but I want to" he says when he looks back up at me, something about it making my heart flutter and therefore making me more susceptible to the whole idea. 

"Fine" I say and it's at that point I notice the fact that he had in fact planned this. Him having parked in a visitor parking space and going through the effort of taking his helmet off as well. Clearly showing me he had no intention of leaving right away making me turn around to hide the no doubt embarrassed expression on my face.

His footsteps trail behind me as I walk over to the stairs, choosing to not take the elevator because the thought alone of being in that small of a space with him seems intimidating enough. 

It's not like I'm on the fifth floor or something...just the third, making both of us slightly winded by the time we get to my door. 

He waits as I unlock my door and when I turn around he still doesn't look like he's in much of a rush to leave. "You gonna head home?" I ask, tossing my keys on the hooks next to my door and he smile. "You're not gonna invite me in?" he asks, nodding inside and I look back assessing the state of it and decide it's in an okay state to have visitors. 

"Do you wanna come inside?" I ask and he again clears his throat and looks away. Damn this boy has an even dirtier mind than I do. "Yeah um sure" he says, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears pink as if he wasn't the one that suggested this making me smile and walk in, leaving an open invitation. 

He follows soon after and closes the door behind him, quietly since it's about to be three in the morning so he doesn't feel like contributing to me getting an eviction notice. 

"It's been a while since you've been here huh?" I ask, grabbing both of us waters from the fridge with him nodding and taking it from me, making it a point to brush his fingers against mine before I pull back. 

"Yeah. It looks a little different" he says while taking in some things he hadn't noticed before, one of which being my little black cat that does a big stretch before walking over to him, smelling him and circling around his legs as if he was sizing him up. 

"I didn't know you had a cat" he says, leaning down and offering his hand down for him to get a little bit more familiar with his scent. "What's his name?" he asks, looking back up at me after having crouched down to pet him, seeing that he's taken a liking to him which surprises me to say the least. 

"Shadow" I say and I can't help but smile at the sight. "Hi Shadow" he coos again leaving me caught off guard when Shadow starts purring. "He really never takes a real liking to strangers, or at least not this quickly" I say and he smiles before standing back up, leaving me looking back up at him again. 

"I guess I'm just a likable guy" he jokes making me roll my eyes and sit down on the couch with him following after me. "You've got some pretty heavy duty curtains there" he points out, seeing my very dark, very black curtains to match my whole aesthetic.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes so it's easier for me to keep as much light out that I can if I end up having to sleep during the day" I shrug and place my water down on the coffee table with him soon following after. 

"Is that why you're so sleepy all the time?" he asks making me hum, "Yeah, sorry about that" I apologize but he smiles and shakes his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I'm just glad I'm able to help you get some sleep sometimes" he says, his smile soon turning shy making him look away. 

His act of going in and out of shy to confident makes him that much more entertaining to me. With him although practically squirming under my gaze one second to practically giving me butterflies in the next. It's an interesting dynamic but one I don't put much thought into.

"Are you gonna have trouble sleeping tonight? You know with that long nap that you had" he says sheepishly as if he wasn't the one I had fallen asleep on. 

"Maybe, but I'm used to it" I shrug my shoulders and he nods, clearly trying to think through what he wants to say next but before he's able to a loud thunder clap resounds through my apartment, making me almost jump into his lap, the sudden sound catching me off guard.

"You alright?" he asks and I clear my throat awkwardly, and sit back, going back to my respective side of the couch. "Yup totally fine, completely fine actually. How are you doing?" I babble, clearly giving myself away which now is amusing him. 

"You're afraid of thunderstorms aren't you?" he asks, tilting his head at me and I nod, giving in right away because there's no use hiding this obvious answer. 

"Are you gonna be able to sleep through it?" he asks and although I know what he's gonna offer next I don't want to take advantage of his kindness especially since I don't want him to end up thinking I led him on because I can't make up my mind in the future.

"Probably not" I admit and he hums, thinking about it for a second before saying what I knew he was going to. "I could stay...if you want?" he asks, not wanting to overstep but sensing from my body language alone that I might need someone. 

"I-" "How about this. I don't really like the idea of riding my motorcycle in the middle of a thunderstorm so do you think you could offer me a place to stay for the night?" he asks, making me see that although I know he's doing this for me he does end up benefitting from it at least a little bit...or a lot a bit.

I think about it for a second and although I know I'm gonna say yes I can't help but hesitate. The thought of letting him stay making this whole thing I know we're starting to feel for each other that much more real.

"I guess it would be pretty shitty of me to kick you out in the rain huh?" I smile, wanting to add a little humor to the tension I clearly feel growing between us. "I mean it's your choice but I would really appreciate it if you didn't" he jokes making me smile. 

"You can stay on one condition" I say and he hums at that but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have it any other way. "You have to sleep in my bed. My couch is too short and I'd feel horrible if you woke up with a kink in your neck or something because of it" I say and he gives me a cheeky smile. 

"It would defeat the purpose if I slept anywhere else but with you. You know, so I can keep you calm through the storm?" he chuckles and I nod, glad that we're on the same page although for different reasons.

"Did you wanna borrow some clothes? I have some baggy sweats and your waist is pretty small from what I remember so they'd probably fit you" I ramble and I know at that point that I've said way too much when he gives me a wicked smile. 

"Have you been checking me out y/n?" he asks and scoots just a bit closer. "No, no I just remember from the few times we've gone to the beach together. You know, with Sadie and Jayson?" I make excuses but he's not buying it. 

"So you haven't been checking me out now but you did then?" his smile never leaving his face. 

"Did you want the clothes or not?" I scowl making him even more enticed to keep teasing but he hums in agreement and watches as I jump up from the couch. 

"Wait here" I say and he nods his head, resting his arm across the back of the couch and spreading his legs just a little wider than necessary with him shamelessly checking me out as much as I am with him. 

I scurry off to my room though, the thought of crossing anymore lines with him than I'm about to already is something I'm not ready for yet...yet? No! I'm not ready for period! I'm not ready for anything like that and I don't want to put a strain on our relationship if something ends up happening. 

I change and take some very much needed deep breaths before going back to the living room with the baggy set of clothes I had offered to him and see that he's started to explore. He takes a closer look at the pictures that I have hung up and zeroes in on one on my desk of Sadie and I in those aforementioned pictures I had mentioned. 

"You looked really different here" he chuckles and I walk over and put the picture frame face down, not wanting him to have to see that image for any longer. 

"I didn't have much of a choice back then. Plus you know that was the style back then" I explain and hand him the clothes before resting against the desk, making sure he doesn't try to look at it again.

He hums and takes the clothes making my eyes furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask but he smiles and shakes his head. "Nothing" he says and places the clothes on the desk next to me. 

"What do you mean it's nothing? It has to be something if you're acting like that" I huff and glare at him as he looks away, clearly more amused at this situation than I can comprehend. "I just had an image in my head of you always dressing like you usually do" he says and looks down at me, making me realize just how little space is left between us.

"How do I usually dress?" I ask, knowing the answer but wanting him to elaborate, wanting to know exactly what he thinks about the way that I dress. "You know, all dark and scary" he smirks and places both of his hands on either side of my hips on the desk, leaning down to my height making me back away from him. 

"You think I'm scary?" I scoff and look away, trying to hide how much his close proximity has caught me off guard. "I used to" he hums making me look at him, his honesty although obvious is peculiar to admit at this point. 

"And now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper making the corner of his mouth upturn but before he's able to respond another roar of thunder smashes us out of our "Moment" if you could even call it that. Embarrassingly forcing me to cling onto him as if my life depended on it, with him on instinct wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me steady, now realizing just how scared I truly am.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay" he says in a hushed tone, pulling me even closer, him feeling the rapid beating of my heart through my chest. 

He rests his head on top of mine with me practically trying to crawl into his chest with how close I'm trying to be and he finds it endearing to say the least. "You're safe, I got you" he says, after another one roars, making me cling onto him, practically shaking at this point. 

"How do you know?" I mumble against his chest and he pushes me away and leans down so he could be at my level. I look away again, this time trying to hide how completely embarrassed I am for being so scared of something that I know is silly but I can't help it. 

He tilts his head trying to catch my glance and when that doesn't work he cups my cheek and brings me back over to him but even then in my stubbornness when I still won't look at him he tilts my chin up and I finally relinquish to his efforts. 

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you" he says softly and I nod before going back in, knowing that at the end of the day he's the one who's gonna keep me safe. 

No matter what he's always gonna be there for me...and that's what scares me.

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[pr1ncessjo]

Jo. You asked I deliver 🤍🤍🤍

What about first kiss with wade that turns into first EVERYTHING. basically everything sexual lmaooooo. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

MDNI 18+ content ; shy/innocent fem!reader, corruption kink, fingering, lots of pet names, i'm ovulating can you tell?

tysm for the request angel !!! this is part one bc i got kinda stuck lol :P part two soon <333

losing your innocence to wade pt. 1

as much as wade teases and makes lewd jokes, he practiced an astonishing amount of patience when it came to your lack of sexual experience. he respected your boundaries (to some extent). of course, there was the occasional peek at your ass or 'accidental' boner while you cuddled on the couch. he couldn't help it. you were the most enticing thing to him and it drove him fucking mad. he was so used to immediate sex after (or during) the first date, but you really have thrown him for a loop. just as he's about to get close to you, you stop him.

"not yet..." you'll whisper with a little sheepish giggle. if it was any other girl, this would piss him the fuck off. the blue balls alone had him fighting internal demons. but that's the thing. you weren't just 'some girl'. there was something about this whole dynamic that kept wade insatiably hooked. he got to look at everything he couldn't touch and for some fucked up reason he was obsessed with how painful it was.

lucky for him, tonight he gets to look and touch.

you and him were currently snuggled up on the couch watching a random movie neither of you were really into. he had just got back from a mission, suit a little tattered and adrenaline through the roof.

"um, wade?" you ask shakily, pausing the movie and sitting up to face him.

he mirrors your posture so that you know you have his full attention. "somethin' wrong, sweets?" a gloved hand goes to your thigh, soothingly rubbing the skin your sleep shorts didn't cover.

you were trying to find the right words, opening your mouth to speak and closing it several times before huffing, clearly frustrated with yourself. little did he know, you were just has horny has he constantly was. you were simply better at hiding it. but not tonight. you physically couldn't wait any longer. albeit dramatic, you throw yourself at wade, straddling his lap and kissing him above the mask.

he doesn't deny you, but he's definitely shocked. "woah, woah, hey..." his hands find the sides of your face, leaning back as he catches his breath.

for a moment, you take his surprised state personally, feeling stupid and embarrassed. "sorry, that was stupid. i-" stumbling, you start to get off of him, but he firmly plants your hips back down on top of him.

"ah, ah, ah," he tuts, "where d'you think you're going, baby?" he peals his mask up just above the tip of his nose so you can see his mouth. "just thought your first kiss should be with an actual mouth."

you giggle, getting comfortable on his lap again. "oh yeah, right."

"alright, baby, take two. lights...camera..." he whispers, cupping your face and pulling you into a heated kiss, not caring to finish his sentence.

you're not sure what takes over, but your hips start to rock against him. the rough material of his suit against your skin feels so good. judging by the erection you start to feel beneath you, he's feeling good too.

"ohhhh, i see," wade muses, noticing how you desperately chase the friction between you two, "you wanna try me on for size, pumpkin?" he asks, but it's clearly rhetorical because he doesn't wait for a response, gripping your hips and rocking you back and forth against his bulge.

"shit, wade..." you mumble, as the bunched up fabric of his suit hits your clit just right. the sensation was new, but you were hooked, wanting-craving more.

"just wait, baby. haven't even gotten to the main course." he teases, pealing his mask back down before picking you up and walking to your bedroom. his brash action elicits a squeal from you as he quickly kicks the door open and places you gently on the bed. this is new for him, the whole 'slow and gentle thing', but there is something so undeniably hot about how you watch his every move wide-eyed and innocent. he can see your chest rise and fall as he crawls on the bed, resting on his knees between your legs. "mind if i pop the hood, see what i'm workin' with, doll-face?"

eagerly, you nod, chewing your lip with anticipation. with your approval, he doesn't waste a goddamn second, tugging down your shorts to reveal a lacy pair of black panties. if that wasn't enough to get him going, the burgundy little bow in the center definitely is.

"black and red...like your suit." you whisper out shyly, praying he doesn't think it's too much.

"jesus h. christ, baby, i'm hard as a fuckin' rock." he says bluntly, toying with the fabric, "look at you-fuck, look at you...." he starts to thumb your clit over the fabric, your arousal dampening the area more and more by the second. "ah, dry cleaning bill is gonna be a nightmare, but fuck it." he says, more to himself than you, as his pulls your panties down and circles your weeping entrance with his gloved finger.

"oh-" your hips jerk at the new feeling, back lifting off the bed as his digit sinks inside you.

"so tight, sweet thing." he clicks his tongue, trying to stretch you out with another finger, "can't believe i'm the lucky bastard that gets to do this to you for the first time..." wade shakes his head to himself with a chuckle, curling two fingers inside of you.

his skillful prodding has you soaked, biting your lip as you gazed at him flushed. you needed more and quickly.

wade notes your impatience, pulling his fingers out and examining how your arousal dripped down his glove onto the sheets, "huh, well would'ya look at that, pumpkin....someone's excited."

taglist 𓉸ྀི @maneskinwh0re (lmk if you'd like to be added !!)

[pineconepie]

sera with a reader who is afraid of thunderstorms? :333

Sorry this ask is so late! I've been trying to balance commissions along with fulfilling old asks! ^^; its a little short, but I hope this is good!

"Seradiel, please," you grumble out. "Give me my phone back."

"But it's already past bedtime," Seradiel insists. "I wouldn't want you staying up on that silly little thing; the blue light is so harmful for your eyes." His tone indicates no room for argument. With that said, he shuffles closer to you. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did," you tell him dismissively. "And for the record, it's not even two hours from midnight. I'm not that tired yet." Despite your complaints, he's tucking the blanket around you anyways like a makeshift cocoon. All it does is make you feel even more smothered. "Okay, I'll go to sleep. Sooo... you can leave the room, and kindly give my phone back."

He gives you a deadpan look. "I've known you your whole life, sweetie. I know when you're trying to be sneaky."

You groan loudly. You think he means well, but sometimes it's infuriating. "I need to set my alarm."

"I'm your alarm," he chuckles.

As much as you hate it, you can't argue with that. You're not even sure if Seradiel needs sleep, but chooses to since he has nothing better to do. But in your eyes, you view him more as a mother figure than an angel. An annoyingly strict mother figure, to say the least.

Like almost every night, he sits on the edge of the bed and strokes your hair. Even though you hate to admit it, it makes you drowsy enough to begin falling asleep.

Right as your eyes flutter shut, he gets up and slips out of your room, to give you the privacy of sleep. But you know he'll be back to check if you're breathing properly at some point, even though it isn't necessary. His soul is quite literally linked to yours.

Or that's what he says. You're not entirely sure what that even means.

In the middle of the night, a loud crackle wakes you.

You open your eyes in a panic, scanning your bedroom. Lightning flashes outside, followed by the steady sound of heavy rain hitting the window. That's when you remember how bad the weather is predicted to be tonight. The thunder booms again, rattling the house.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

The sky illuminates again with lightning. It takes only seconds before another crackle erupts. At this point, you're shaking violently, pulling the covers around you to stop yourself from freaking out.

Even though Seradiel is annoying, you wouldn't mind his presence now.

Any moment now, you expect him to either pull you to his chest, or sit by your bedside until you fell back asleep.

But nothing happens.

The sky continues to scream, and Seradiel hasn't come back yet.

Hesitantly, you crawl out of bed, trembling down the hallway and towards his door.

Well, sort of. He insisted he didn't need a room, but you still gave him a space of his own, just so he'd quit being everywhere at once. It didn't really work, but it made you feel happy when he used it to nap or sleep, just for the sake of finding it peaceful.

"Seradiel," you whisper, pushing open the door.

He's asleep. Actually asleep, for once, on his back, arms tucked to his sides. His wings are unfolded, taking up most of the surface area of the large bed, the ends dragging on the floor. His expression is peaceful, and it sends a pang of guilt through your chest, knowing that you'll have to wake him.

But another peal of thunder makes the decision for you. You jump into the bed with him, crawling across the sheets until you can curl against him. His wings automatically shift closer to him as he subconsciously registers your warmth, draping around you gently like they were covering him. Immediately you feel safer, surrounded in white feathers.

The thunder crashes again and you wince, closing your eyes tightly. It takes a few moments, but soon he shifts beneath you.

"Precious one, what are you doing?" Seradiel's voice asks gently, low from sleep. "Are you feeling sick? Did you get a nightmare?"

Before you can answer, another crackle of lightning startles you, making you sob.

"Oh, the storm!" He wraps his arms around you, pressing you into his chest. "You poor thing. You can stay with me, I've got you." He pulls the blankets tighter around the two of you, shifting one arm to rest under your neck, cuddled close to him. "So scared that you sought out Papa..." His hand combs through your hair.

"Can't you make it go away?" you plead.

"My darling," Seradiel murmurs. "Even I am unable to control natural forces. And as much as I would like to remove all things that scare you from existence, the Earth still needs its storms to be healthy." His words make you whine, gripping onto his sleeping robes and hiding your face into the crook of his neck as the thunder echoes around you once again. You can feel him hum sympathetically beneath your touch. "Don't fret, child," he soothes.

"It's so loud," you whimper out.

He seems to think for a moment. Then he starts humming a quiet lullaby. It's slow, soothing, calming. Almost immediately, you feel exhaustion fall over you, but it's not from any supernatural forces. On the contrary, it feels safe and gentle.

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is a kiss being pressed against the crown of your head. The sound of the storm fades away.

"Sleep tight, my little one," Seradiel whispers, bringing a palm to stroke your cheek. "Papa loves you."

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Hellooo. Could I have scenarios of soft Adam? Anything is fine, just possible moments where he’s being soft for reader? Maybe it’s late at night or something? Or maybe it’s early in the morning and he doesn’t wanna get up? Just some prompts just so I’m not being too vague

Thank you!

I DID NOT FORGET MY ADAM PEOPLE- getting other fandom works in there teehee these are so cute tysm for ur request!! apologies if its short 💞💞 also tan/brown adam ftw!!!!! 💯💯💯

Fade into you | Adam x GN! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: None!

It was a common thing to have lazy mornings with your husband. Especially if he had to do something later in the day, he would spend most of his morning cuddling up next to you while you attempt to push him off. Not that it ever worked, and he always showed up late to his events anyway. 

“What’s five more minutes? Not like they will miss me.”

“Baby, they are hosting your party.”

“Ahh who needs that when I have you?” Was what he always said before sinking further into your chest. 

It seemed that today was no different. You awoke to a weight on your chest and hands under your shirt. Already knowing who it is, you place a hand on your husband's hair and comb through it with your fingers. He hums, giving your sides a squeeze for a moment. You tug on it slightly, making him groan and you laugh a little. 

“Is there anything on the agenda today?” You ask him, just as you do every morning. He says nothing, just humming as his hands move under you to your back. You giggle at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your soft spots, hoping Adam doesn’t take advantage of his weight on you. To your relief, he doesn’t, just fully holding you. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable between your legs before once again resting fully on you. You tug at his hair once again, a way of asking him to answer.

“No.” He gruffs, putting his face further into your neck.

“No? Are you sure? If I call Lute, she would tell me the same thing?” He smacks his teeth and bites back.

“There is no need to call danger tits. There is nothing happening today.” You pull your hands up in mock defeat.

“Sorry. You normally lie about these things.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Honey, you literally missed a meeting with Sera and Emily once because you would rather be in bed than do anything else.” You coo, combing his hair again. You feel him take a deep breath as he removes his head from your neck, now looking at you. 

“Try being dead for all of humanity.” You roll your eyes and boop at his nose. 

“While I may not have been dead for as long as you and Eve have old man, I am still pretty old compared to the newer saints.”

“Winners.” 

“No. That is a dumb name. I will never be called or call the others winners.” You argue. 

“No? Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You affirm, before feeling Adam attack your sides, tickling you. You shriek in shock before devolving into laughter. You try to escape, however it proves futile as Adam is on top of you. 

“What are we called?” He asked, still tickling you. Through your peals of laughter, you shout out,

“SAINTS!” Adam mimics an incorrect buzzer sound as he starts to now get at your tickle spots faster. With the feeling of tears gathering in your eyes, your cheeks and tummy hurting, you can’t help but give in to his stupid demands. “F-Fine! We are c-called winners- STOP AH-”

He stops at your hasty white flag, a smug smirk on his face. Catching your breath, you look at your husband. His brown hair was a mess, just as it always was. His tan skin looked wonderful in the heaven light that peaked through your window. It seemed that he was also admiring you, as his smirk began to soften into a small smile, a look of utter fondness and love in his eyes. You wonder if you had a similar look on your face. Rather than ponder it any longer, you pull Adam down by his shirt for a kiss. He lets out a gasp at the suddenness of your grab before sinking into the kiss. Your hands fly to his face as his hands go down to your sides, lightly passing the tickle spots he has abused previously. You giggle a little into the kiss, before pushing his face away.

“I seriously hope you had nothing important today. You don’t have a choice now but to stay with me.”

“Babe, I would stay with you for eternity.” He says, his voice soft, the voice he reserved for you and you alone. You smile and pull him into another kiss.

loll i was going to joke that this was the one year Adam forgot the extermination.

[1800titz]

HI BESTIES. Trivia!Harry x Shy!Reader part 1 ((based on THIS post))

The one where Harry hosts trivia at a small town bar every Thursday and you just can’t seem to shut up.

WC: 3.7K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series — the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

You take a long drink. It tastes like kismet and carbonated nothingness.

(Retrospect will tell you that it's meant to be— tiny town, diminutive ambitions, hulking potential. But now, the twinge of an uncomfortable fever crawls up from your collar and makes you want to squirm in your seat.)

“Alright, alright, alright.”

And the smooth baritone against the head of a microphone makes your insides squeeze. Close. Real close— his mouth is pink, hovering millimeters, and that brass is the kind that seeps over your nape, under your skin. Molasses-heavy, slinking the gaps in the meshed grill caging. You blink up at the portable four-by-eight platform.

It's the kind of squeeze along your guts, the heat simmering in your face the longer you stare, that'll taunt you in the ridges of the night. Boxed into this— tonight, under a parapet— comfort zone hovering beyond your periphery, in the nook of the living room you left behind to wrack your head and stare at sin-in-bulk on a mobile stage.

The lively chatter dulls as heads turn, and then swells in eager increments. 

“Alright,” he says, a set of green eyes flickering from the monitor he’s settled over a rejigged high top, bounding sharply to whoever’s just given an overly enthusiastic cry of yes from the horde.

A peal of sparse, scattered laughter blooms in the throng. His mouth quirks.

“Very enthusiastic. How are you?” 

His cresting gaze climbs from the glowy screen, casting light and carving shadow over the sultry features of his visage; an evenly straight slope of a nose, cheekbones feathered by long lashes, a bit of curl that traipses over his forehead. 

His chin swivels to his left, somewhere closer to the platform where a woman leans over the table— her designated team. The corners of his lips curl in response to whatever she’s said. He smiles. Nods. He tips his chin. Makes a creased face like something playful. Says something else, laughs softly, and turns back, shaking his head. 

You tuck the straw into your mouth and take another, long slow sip.  

In the heft of his hand, the stem of the mic nearly resembles a toy. A maquette between the thick of his fingers.

“Hope everyone’s having a lovely Thursday. M’Harry, I’ll be leading the trivia— as I do— so if you’re sitting there going, who is this obnoxious cock, talking into the mic the whole night? Hi, Hello. That’s me— I do trivia.”

You get it now. The infamous cynosure is fit. 

At first, you had been dubious to desert your romcom reruns and your cross-stitch project mid-way (despite the fact that your thumb now resembles a pin cushion) when your friends had swept you off into their regularly scheduled, mysteriously niche Thursday night schemes. Now, you get it. 

The destination— The Black Horse— is a fuggy little space that smells like spilt Michelob and fusty, weathered oak. There’s a no smoking sign pasted in a spare crevice of the backbar, but someone in the far right corner exhales a plume of vapor like they’ve hit their elfbar in the most nonchalantly covert manner imaginable. Shamelessly. It’s a small town— an islet in the heart of an archipelago— and you think you can make out your seventh grade swim team rival perched somewhere off in the front row. 

The Black Horse is nothing special. It sells cheap draughts by the pitcher and parallels a barbershop in the crux of the town, two blocks off the boardwalk, which is arguably the chiseled, shiny musgravite of Treah’s core— a roaring green sea that eats away at the borders of the isle, shrouding vibrantly hued cays, glimmering under the beam of the sun. The majority of the holm’s economy is dependent on tourism (a simultaneous bane— said tourists enjoy uprooting foliage, building infrastructures, and partaking in chunks of housing buyouts), but you can tell that The Black Horse has been …preserved to say the least. It’s four stone walls sewn into a plaza with three other natively owned businesses and looks like something straight out of a cinematic piece set in a rural village, planted into Treah long before you had her first wiggly tooth. 

The Black Horse isn’t what makes attendance worth it. It’s him—

“We’ve got a crowd tonight. If you haven’t played trivia with me here at The Black Horse before, welcome. S’a little different than your typical trivia, though, because it’s…”

The crowd hollers back, as if scripted, “Dirty trivia!” 

“Dirty Trivia,” Harry echoes, and when the edges of his lips crook, dimples burrow beside the corners, “Right, Dirty Trivia. This one’s rated R, so if you’re not old enough to be here, I dunno how you got here, but this is going to be your cue to head out. Any— any children in here tonight? …No? Wonderful.” 

He huffs into the mic, shaking his head and jostling his halo of curls. A jaundiced, warm beam catches on them. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but m’not even joking— a couple of weeks ago someone was sitting in here with, like, a little kid.” 

It’s Harry, with the divots burrowing into his cheeks, the croon into the mic, lighting the crowd alive on an introduction. Incandescent (speckled in stars, spelled out— you don't get that bit, yet.)

You cross your legs. Your friend raises her eyebrows from across the teak table top and says it with her eyes. Told you so; Trivia Man is a cream dream. 

“Yeah,” Harry confirms over the dispersed, appalled eruption of laughter, nodding down at someone seated at a table closer to the stage, “I was, like, …shit,” he blinks back up and motions out, a slow sweep with his free hand, “Friendly reminder, this is not a form of sex ed.” 

Pausing, (lips twitchy over the sown mirth), he brings the microphone back with a newfound seriousness and tacks on, nodding slowly, “…That kid won it for the whole team.” 

He smiles. It's a lopsided spall of a ruddy seam that shows teeth, and that's when you recognize the heinous, gurgling froth of a new addiction. Incipient, blooming along your shimmery, star-struck eyes.

“No, m’joking,�� he clears his throat. “M’gonna pass out a sheet and some little note pads for your answers. You’re gonna use one of those little notes to jot down a clever team name, do the same in that team name spot of the sheet, and then pass the note up to me.”

Pussy Posse. A pre-established moniker you have had no jurisdiction over, merely perched as an addition to a settled cadre. Still, you gnaw into your cheek when you watch a friend beside you scribble in the title with a ballpoint. 

“I’ll be coming around between questions to pick those answers up, have a chat, whatever. We’re all here to have fun, yes?” 

You swear he sweeps you with his eyes, like a passing tide gliding the sea. Probably just the way the green in his sockets meets everyone else in the throng, but the moment it happens your molars chew in harder.

“On the topic of fun, let’s keep it nice and fair, yeah? Phones put away— no cheating— you’ll have plenty of time to check those when we have our break midway.”

It feels ignoble to eye-fuck him from behind the sheathes of your empty irises as he paces the stage— after all, this is just a wholesomely clad, virtuously upstanding guy leading trivia, but. The gears behind your skull are mottled with the amalgam of a fawning affliction— cerebrospinal fluid and sticky tar. It leaves you in a goop of thoughtless ogling that renders your head empty. Even when he makes his way to the bar-height table your team curls around, when his eyes linger on you— “A new face.”— you just...

Mindlessly stare. 

Dirty trivia, you learn, is dirty.

It hits you when Harry quips (dare you note, mischievously), “Hoo-hoo-hoo. Starting off strong with the first one.” 

He states, talc flickering from the LED display ahead to the bevy of trivia-players, “What country,” and pauses for emphasis, “has—“ pits grub at the smooth of his cheeks, beside the grin that splinters to show ivory teeth, “the highest average, in the world, for penis size?” 

There’s no source of entertainment like that of trivia held, on a Thursday, on a remote islet, in a poky bar that smells like stale beer and dust-coated, chipping leather. Evidently. 

“I actually don’t know this one,” Harry chimes, raising a wry shoulder, “So it’s trivia for me, as well.” 

“England,” Marina stamps a blow that the teak hasn’t warranted, whisper-shouting over the staggering peals of guffaw and chatter, “He’s hung, I bet you.”

“He’s not going to fuck you for writing in England,” Beth’s chortles clash with your scorned, “Marina.”

“That’s not even an answer,” Bee waves towards the flatscreen framed over the man’s head.

Senegal, Haiti, Ecuador, and Gambia. 

“Where the fuck is Gambia—”

You settle on Gambia. 

You watch Beth scribble it in and dot the i with an open sphere. The edges don’t meet. When Harry winds the rows of tables, plucking answer cards and making small-talk, you cast your inkpools into your glass, pyrexia across the bridge of your nose, brain-rotted with the insinuation of him being …hung.

“Lots of Haiti, lots of Senegal,” Harry states, once he’s smoothed the cards out with his colossal, ringed paws, and looked them over. 

You stare at the bob of his throat as he swallows, directing the mic back to his lips.

“Big reveal?” He pauses, as if for cataclysmic emphasis, riling the crowd enough for you to note restive shoulders and juddering feet. 

“Patience,” Harry says softly into the microphone, raising his eyebrows. It's a muted word that clicks in the speaker with a thump. Throbs between your ribs, under your cold hands.

With paltry warning, he reveals, “Ecuador! At,” squinting at the blue-toned LED, “—a whopping 6-point-nine-three. Solid for the average. Do we have any Ecuadorian men in the audience tonight? Anybody who’s added to that average? Congratulations. You beat us. You beat everyone.” 

There’s a dissonant slurry of responses, some ripostes flung along tables, some bouts of clapping, hollering over the rows, sloshing mugs raised in triumph. 

Harry’s deltoids climb in a shrug, and his head wags from side to side, “Some valiant contenders, those Ecuadorians.” 

“I told you it wasn’t Gambia—“

You ogles the way Harry tilts over the platform towards a table, brows kinked as if trying to pick up something audible he’d missed. In your periphery, Marina prods into Beth’s direction with a palmful of something claret in a pellucid martini glass. 

“What was that?” Harry coaxes into the microphone. 

The corners of his mouth have caved up, and by the time the majority of the trivia-players sink into a piqued lull, he’s slanted over toward the table. A brunette with long, shiny hair arches up out of her seat into her directions, braced to the teak high-top with planted, elbow-locked arms. 

“Where do you fall?” is undeniable the second time. 

Harry blinks. His mouth paints over with a smile. 

“Where do I fall?”

He blatantly bridles a sputter when he winds toward the laptop he’s set up, culls his glass of a golden, pale straw beer that’s lost its layer of foam, and takes a long drink. Clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Very forward. Take me out to dinner first.” 

You discover that, despite the ubiquitously crude sexualizing, Harry is sort of like a bird. An Indian Peafowl, preening with its neatly arranged plume— he likes it. The flattery. His tongue peeks out and swipes along as he stares down at the screen. Little dimples pit when it tucks back in— ones he blatantly can’t contain. 

He chuckles and states into the microphone, “…Below. Don’t worry about it.” 

Somehow, you doubt it.  -

-

-

-

You plait yourself into the Thursday Fawn Sessions as a regular attendee, curling up at the same high top to ogle the same man pace a platform with a microphone. Watch him make jesting comments and ask things like, “Axillism is the act of using what strange body part during sex?” 

You find yourself learning a thing or two from each session, and you find that the emeralds seated in his sockets linger on you, sometimes— this absolute clam shell taking up a spot in the bar and chugging fizzy water (ogling his frame in lull every time he approaches your table), too. Pussy Posse is no good at the trivia, more often than not wheedling in second-to-last, but you find yourself much too entertained to mind. 

Franks is a self-explanatory hot dog cart. It stands midway on the boardwalk and operates through sunny mizzles and borderline hurricane cloudbursts, when the green salt chuck is choppy. High tiding. Those are the days you stand out in your jaundiced poncho, salty rain spittle beating at your cheeks, and watch the waves eat at the ipe in a nasty, wet hunger, no customers in sight. 

Midsummer afternoons, though, are good. Busy. When Treah morphs industrious and bustling — tourists like Franks on the boardwalk. 

It’s a slow coda for June. The sea is planate, swaying over steel supports mantled by barnacles. Gulls chortle, gliding low in the ether— it oozes yellow, something balmy like the goo of an egg yolk. You've sold two hot dogs, tallied three joggers (one eager speedwalker), and noted one couple pushing a baby in a stroller, who offered tight-lipped smiles and veganism. You don't entirely mind a slow day, because setting shop on the boardwalk means spending the day on the boardwalk. Breathing the sea until your lungs are full of salt and your eardrums reverberate the crash of the water behind your skull. You taste it at the back of your throat— something like home as home could get.  

There’s another jogger loping— a moving blip of skin color in chiaroscuro against wood paneling. In the distance. Drawing closer. You imagine him passing the cart, the soles of his trainers padding over the row of planks until he’s just another form of lines and shading, faced away. You check your phone. 

The jogger is still a good bit away. You swipe open Wordle. You're on your third attempt of elucidating something that goes blank, I, blank, E, blank (with a P that doesn’t quite fit where you've slotted it)—

“Hi.”

Your eyes crest. 

Treah is a really small town. Not in a prudishly, bible-bashing form of a pastoral village, sheathed in a bosky, wooded moat of thicket and then plains of nothingness for hundreds of miles. But it is an island enveloped by the sea from all sides, sequestered without a boat or a little plane, whose wheels bumpily kiss the asphalt of anearly comically small airport. Even the tourists lodging up in their summer homes, all the same months like annual clockwork, make reappearances. The faces are, nearly always, the same, and you see the same faces often. It was only a (limited) matter of time before you'd coalesced beyond the borders skirting The Black Horse.

In hindsight, you didn’t envisage that you'd be wearing a baseball cap emblematized with a weenie when it happened. Or that his tits would be out and about. 

“Have you got water?”

He’s panting. Casually slippery; coated in sweat that glimmers in the sun and carves the well-toned sinews of his torso, with sunglasses tucked up over his curls like a makeshift headband. He ogles expectantly with a set of jade that puts the hues of the lapping, green sea behind him to shame. A parted mouth, sculpted and cushiony, sucks in breaths from the liminal space divvying their atoms while your own become clogged, somewhere midway an esophageal prison, in limbo toward your lungs. A shaded lepidoptera scored over his tummy flutters, batting its wings in the swell and sink of his diaphragm expanding. 

His shorts are teeny. Tiny, little things. Cobalt. Mirroring laurels carving alongside his V-line peek from the waistband, and a happy trail climbs to kiss his navel. 

You blink. “Yes. Yeah. We do. Yes. …Is bottled okay?” 

“Bottled is perfect.”

He sticks a hand into his pocket, eyes flickering to your face, away, back. Slow-like. You trace the wisps in the sky with your eyes, heat searing up your neck and pooling in the flesh of your face. It’s a sudden, unforeseen stuffiness sweltering for such a beautiful day. You recognize your horrid blunder in his next words. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” 

You should have ducked your chin, tucked the visor lower, and hoped for the best. Instead, now, you blink, dazed and wide-eyed like a Red brocket saturated by blinding headlights.  

“Oh. I’m not sure. Um. Small …town— maybe?” 

“You come to, uh—“ a nudge with his chin in your direction as you arduously regulate the stuttery pace of your respiration. The jitter in your fingers, like a lovesick school girl. You cache them behind the cart and let them judder. “—trivia nights. At The Black Horse, yeah? I couldn’t forget a face like yours.” 

Harry grins, the way he does. Lopsided, so the left corner turns up a little higher— dimpled with a long flash of teeth. Except now, he’s slippery and half-naked. 

Folie. Miscalculated gaffe in a weenie cap. Your smile is tight.

“Oh—“ again, “…Yeah.” 

“Right,” Harry nods. Smiley. Lingering, looking you over. He buries an enormous hand back into his pocket then, brows creasing like he’s remembered something, and pulls out a little rectangle in cardboard paper. “Hey, actually. I’ve got this coupon here. S’what I do all the other days of the week, ah—“

He extends it out. 

Harve-y a free drink, on us! 

“M’a bartender over at Harvey’s. S’close to The Black Horse, if you’re in that area. Monday and Saturday mornings. Wednesday and Friday nights. If you come by, I’ll fix you up with a drink.” 

It feels impolite to leave him hanging, so you swipe out at the offering, cradling it with slow fingertips. 

“We can do some one on one trivia. Train you up,” Harry tacks on.

You swallow. Harry is an attractive man. His allure is apodictic— a sort of conventional, objective quality that leaves your throat parched when it becomes paired with his unfaltering eye contact. You're not a virgin, and you're an adept swimmer, but his presence feels like viridian saltwater that’s waiting to swallow her whole. The nerves that bubble, a fizz of chagrin, remind you why exactly you enjoy fawning from a distance. Because he makes you feel nervous, and when you're nervous, the dialogue spumes like miasmic word vomit. 

He’s got a thin sheathe of sweat that glimmers in the seat of his cupid’s bow, but it’s not in a gross way. In fact, it reminds you that the rest of him, his denuded skin, is slick, because he’s been jogging along the boardwalk. It reminds you how hard it is not to openly ogle the tattoos he’s got on show. You should have called out from your weenie gig, and you should have refilled her alprazolam prescription weeks ago. 

“Oh,” you tell him, slowly, face creasing, “I don’t— I don’t drink.”

Harry blinks. It’s a weird confession, considering you're a Thursday night regular at a bar that’s really only good for anything that has enough alcohol to shroud the stale taste perfuming the air. Still, nothing beyond open expectancy erupts along his features, and that’s worse. You feel them crawling up your throat, clambering up the back of your tongue like the words have knobby joints. They meet the backs of your teeth, waiting to spew. 

“—Not because I’m a recovering alcoholic or anything, I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or drinking. I actually think it’s so admirable. You know? Like, to be brave… and… and a lot of times those people will attend support groups—“

Harry blinks again. 

“—And they talk about it. I can’t imagine sharing something like that— not that there’s anything wrong with it! But. Um. I always get virgin cocktails at The Black Horse. Or club soda. Or juice.”

Her lips seal over. You entrap the rest behind your traitorous teeth — a drawbridge that never should’ve sunk open. Despite your overly candid, overstated explanation, you don't stick the coupon back out in his direction. You harbor it in your hand, blinking slowly and gnawing into your cheek. 

“…S’okay. We do orange juice, too,” Harry tells her, entirely casual despite your discomfited speech, raising his brows. 

There’s the curbed efforts of a bemusedly mirthy grin at the corners of his mouth, and his nonchalant bearing only makes your face hotter. You feels like you're broiling under the shade of the awning. 

“And club soda.” 

“…Cool,” You settle on, tightly. 

“Sick.”

“…It’s, uh… two dollars,” you tell him when the reticence starts to suffocate you. 

You're going to go home and ram your head through a window. 

“Oh,” Harry casts his gaze to the water (it has the average, entirely typical proportions of a water bottle, but in his hand, it’s nearly miniature), as if he’s forgotten the chilly source of condensation coating his palm. That he’s in arrears. He sticks his free hand into the same pocket where the coupon was stuffed, “Right. I think I’ve got two dollars in here, somewhere.” 

Instead, when he stretches a bill out towards you, it’s worth ten. You avoid eye contact. You reach for the cash box tucked below, and you pry the lid up to delegate his change. 

“Oh,” Harry echoes, raising his enormous hand in effort of halting you, “S’alright. S’yours.”  

“Oh. I… can’t take tips. It’s, like. Against the code of conduct.” 

“Code of conduct at a …hot dog stand?” 

As if you needed to be reminded that you're donning a silly cap with an animated frank, standing on a boardwalk that’s practically empty of prospective patrons. The chagrin churns in your stomach and surfaces in the set line of your mouth. 

“…Yes.” 

Harry pauses, brows kinked like he’s ruminating, and then he inhales and decides, “Well. It’s not a tip, yeah? It’s just… you break it up, put two in the box, and then put the rest in your pocket.” 

“Oh. No. You— you’ve already given me the coupon—“ you argue, frenziedly waving out a mismatched wad of cash.

He raises his hands and ambles in one suavely, lengthy step back. “I’m going now.” 

“No!” 

He’s three away that would fit five or six of your own gait when he declares, “Yes! I hope to see you for that orange juice. On the house. Have a good one.” 

This is a patreon exclusive series. If you'd like to read more, part 2 is already up on my patreon! <3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Here’s a sleep token thought for you.

Lazy morning sex. With whoever you want, or what it would be like with each of them.

Run wild with it. Feel free to spiral.

(Please and thank you. I love your writing)

Favorite flavor

a/n I’m supposed to leave for a conference in 20 min. What am I doing… when am I not horny for this man.

warning: iii smut duhhhhhhhhhh

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Morning light filtered through the room. The Saturday morning you two had been dying to spend together in peace was finally here. iii had been busy with the preparation of the tour. You had been swallowed by your nine-to-five job. Both came home drained and exhausted. Both with no desire to do anything other than sit in fluffy sweats and watch silly movies. But today was supposed to be different. You two had planned out the whole day together. Just you two and all the little things you loved doing before the chaos of life took that away.

You stirred slowly. A smile instantly spread over your face as you felt the warmth of your boyfriend next to you. Light snores still leaving his lips. You nuzzled closer, kissing his left shoulder as you inched towards his neck, cuddling deeper into his chest. iii’s arms almost immediately wrapped around your torso as he pulled you slightly higher onto his body.

“Morning..”, he muttered groggily, eyes still closed. “Morning, darling”, you mused, brushing your fingers through his hair. iii hummed at the feeling, turning his head closer to your touch. “How did you sleep?”, you muttered, knowing that he needed his rest before all the insanity of the upcoming shows. “With you next to me - it was perfect”, he nodded lazily, pealing one eye open to look at you. Making you giggle as you leaned in to kiss his lips. The movement left you hooking one leg over his torso as you pushed up against his chest. His palm met the back of your neck as iii pulled you into him.

You grunted into the kiss, rocking your hips slightly, “you’re alright hard?”, pulling apart you couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m not the only one excited to wake up to my girlfriend, okay”, iii shrugged, pushing your hips back and forth as you moved against his boxer shorts. Feeling the material getting damper immediately. A slight blush crept onto your cheeks.

“iii”, you whispered, brushing your nails across his lower stomach. “Looks like you’re excited too, huh,” pressing a palm to your back, bracing your fall, iii pushed you off him. Instantly crawling over your body instead. You kept your legs wrapped around him, feeling his hard on brushing between your folds, making you bite your lip. “Very annoying this shirt don’t you think?”, hooking a finger over the shirt you had on, iii pulled it up. Licking his lips at the sight of your hardened nipples.

“You’re so fucking pretty”, he hummed, kissing the valley of your breast before letting his tongue swirl around one of the peaks, sucking onto it softly. “iii”, you whispered, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled at the blond strands, before pushing him down even further. “If I spread your legs open, would I find you all nice and wet, baby?”, he muttered against your skin, sending a shiver down your back as you nodded eagerly. “Show me then”, he breathed and you instantly grabbed for his wrist, pulling his hand between your thighs, messily coating them in your arousal. iii grunted against your neck, “All this creamy goodness just for me?”, rubbing your slick folds up and down before pushing a finger into your already soaked vagina. “Jesus, fuck yes”, you clung to his bicep. Arching your back as you tried to take more of him.

“So responsive this morning”, iii chuckled. “You having touched me in two weeks, asshole”, you grunted, slowly fucking yourself over his finger, as iii watched. You two had been to rung out for sex most nights. You didn’t blame him. It was just that both of you were fully drained by life. “I could cum from your voice alone”, you whimpered as iii pulled his hand away. “Should we test that theory?”, he asked, but you yanked at his boxers instead, “If you don’t give me that dick, I swear iii”, you grunted, letting your hand swirl over the precum-coated tip, spreading it all over his girth. iii threw his head back, buckling his hips into your palm. “Still want to just talk?”, you teased him, keeping the steady rhythm as you worked him up.

Throwing the covers off you both, iii quickly followed the plush sheets with his boxes. Replacing your hand with his own as he watched you spread out against the white sheets, slowly cupping your breast. “I could bust just watching you”, he mused, pulling your leg up, and kissing down your calf. “Next time maybe”, you reached out pulling him closer, “This time bust instead me”, iii grunted at your words, making you chuckle.

“I fucking love you”, he mused, pressing the very tip against your entrance, pushing ever so slightly into you, before withdrawing. “I love you but please…”, your voice raised an octave as iii thrusted almost all the way, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck you’re so tight”, he nibbled at your shoulder, littering your naked chest with kisses. The sound of your juices gushing around his cock, filled the quiet room.

“Closer”, you pleaded, holding onto his shoulder as you pulled his chest over yours, iii instinctively pulling your legs to wrap around his torso. You could feel him deep inside you, nudging all the right places as he bottomed out every time, making you clench around him. That’s until he pushed your legs back apart, hooking his hands from beneath your hips. “I’m suddenly thirsty”, he mewled, “iii”, you whimpered, knowing full well what was about to go down. “Give me your champagne shower, love”, he smirked, before pulling you down onto his cock full force leaving you grasping for sheets around you.

You cried out, feeling the knot inside you unraveling. “Come on baby”, he urged, thrusting into you, “you’re close, I can tell”, he mused. “iii”, you whimpered, feeling the overwhelming pleasure blinding you, pushing at his hands, even though you don’t have the slightest desire for him to stop. “Be a good fucking girl and cum for me”, he cooed at you, bringing one of his palms between your legs, drawing circles.

“Baby… fuck”, you cried out his name, arching from the mattress as your orgasm hit you, making black spots dance all over your vision. “There you go”, iii mused, “Fucking…shit”, his thrusts faltered as he too spilled deep inside you, warming your body from within. But his thrusts picked up once more, igniting the smoldering fire once more.

“No”, you pleaded but iii only nods, “Yes baby”, your sensitive walls clenching around him as he bottoms out once more, rapidly circling your clit as he pushes your legs to bend at your knees, eyes already fixed on the spectacle. “Ahhh.. iii”, you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks as the tide breaks once more. Gushes of your arousal wetting the sheets. iii pulled out, bending to lap at your puffy folds. Licking your thighs as he went along, your hands pressing into his prickly undercut, fully sending you into a sensory overload.

“Such a good girl”, he praised, kissing your stomach as he hovered over you once more. Your eyes meet for a brief moment before he leaned in to kiss you. Hungrily sharing the flavor of you two. “You did so well”, he pulled back, brushing the strand of hair away from your face. “You know they say slow morning sex…”, you breathed out, making iii chuckle, “You and I both know that we don’t do slow”, “I think I’m aware…”, you let out a huff, heart still beating fast. You two laid there for a moment before iii broke the silence, “I wanna go for a second helping”, “Don’t you dare”, you batted his arm away but he was already smirking. “iii”, you warned him before breaking into a giggle as he wiggled his eyebrows, “Not my fault that you are my favorite flavor, love”.