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winterarmyy · 7 months ago

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Against All Odds | Part I

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 8.1k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)

P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.

He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.

Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.

They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.

She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.

And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.

Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.

"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.

Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"

Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."

Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"

Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."

Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.

Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.

"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."

Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.

Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.

Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.

The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.

As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.

When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.

There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.

When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.

Could the rumors about him be wrong?

"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.

As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.

The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.

Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?

The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.

The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.

The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.

Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.

As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.

The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.

Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”

Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.

“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”

His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.

As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.

Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.

With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.

Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.

Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.

Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.

Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.

His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.

Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.

Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.

It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.

Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.

Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.

She admired his body as much as he did of hers.

But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.

Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.

But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.

“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.

Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.

So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.

Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.

It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.

When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.

“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”

She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.

Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.

Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please��.

Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.

“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.

The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.

The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.

His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.

“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.

Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.

Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.

And that is exactly what happened next.

The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.

He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”

Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.

Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.

Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.

Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.

“You’re doing so good, my dear.”

“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”

“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”

“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.

Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.

“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.

With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”

Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.

“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.

Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.

“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.

Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.

"My Dearest Y/N,

I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.

Yours always,

Bucky"

The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.

Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.

However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.

The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.

Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.

The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.

She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.

A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."

The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.

She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?

She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.

As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.

Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.

"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."

"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."

Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.

Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.

As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.

Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.

The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.

Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.

And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.

Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.

As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.

"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.

Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.

“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”

Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”

Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.

Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.

“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.

Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.

Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.

Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky smut #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier!bucky #medieval!bucky #duke!bucky #grumpy!bucky #soft!bucky

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confused-pyramid · 10 months ago

Text

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

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minhosimthings · 13 days ago

Text

After-party || 18+

Synopsis: The best part of attending all those champagne-filled events was always the after-party sex. And who better to have it with than your two oldest members?

Pairings: Heeseung × eighthmember!fem!reader × Jay, includes Hanbin of Zb1

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, female eighth member of Enhypen au, unprotected p in v (not for you), cock riding, choking (f recieving), oral sex (f recieving), degradation, praise, threesome, anal sex, rough sex, implied masturbation (male), DADDY KINK, all of them are toxic af, reader is younger and shorter than both of them

A/N: I have woken up from my 8292937 year hibernation period again and immediately decided to finish this fic. Fun fact this wip is being erased from my list after two years of its inception lol. Anywho probably gonna disappear for a long time again don't miss me too much y'all. As always enjoy!

Being the only female member of Enhypen meant you were the object of many staring eyes.

But not the eyes of your fans. You could handle those readily. After all, engenes were as infatuated with you as they were with the rest of the boys.

The eyes you couldn't handle (not easily) were those of the four oldest members.

Lee Heeseung, Park Jay, Sim Jake and Park Sunghoon.

Being a part of the 2003 line meant that they saw you as their ‘beloved princess’, especially in the bed-works. Their words of course, not yours. Sunoo, your fellow 03 liner, also joined in the fun sometimes. Having his bedroom situated directly next to yours was certainly a marvelous thing for him and Jake—who lived in the same dorm.

Going to events with them wasn't any different either with either Sunghoon or Heeseung constantly throwing flirtatious glances all the time, and Jay not taking his fingers off from your skin at any moment.

But you didn't really mind for some odd reason. Maybe the odd reason was you were only a woman constantly surrounded by handsome men. Or maybe it was the fact that their skills in seduction were as smooth as their voices and you had easily fallen into their trap.

Regardless, you loved them and they certainly loved you back.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“Why were we not invited again?” Jake tilted his head. He was lying on the couch, with his body sprawled like a sea slug, whilst Sunghoon looked on at the white wall, completely zoned out.

“You’re not worthy.” Heeseung joked from a corner of the room, admiring himself in the full body mirror. He sported a rather sleek look of a collared white coat over a velvety black shirt and black trousers. A dainty ringed necklace dangled from his neck, along with two bracelets on his wrist, rings decorating his index and ring fingers, and multiple small earrings hanging from his ears.

“Ha ha.” Sunghoon laughed sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “We still have our Tiffany events, right Jake?”

“Yep!” Jake said with a pop of his lips, toying with the aglets of his hoodie strings, “Speaking of Tiffany–” He rolled over to lay on his stomach, speaking to Heeseung this time, “—I heard our Y/Nnie is gonna sneak in with a Tiffany ring instead of a Pommelato one.”

“And wherever did you hear that from, Jaeyun?” A husky voice sounded as Jay stepped in. He looked exceptionally handsome, dressed in a similar look to Heeseung, albeit with a longer suit jacket and a v-neck under-shirt. He sported less jewelry though, with a plain golden band adorning his ring finger, a chunky bracelet on his wrist, and a necklace that dropped down to his chest. He wore a pair of simple earrings as well.

“Hey, don't shoot the messenger.” Jake held up his hands in defeat, collapsing onto the sofa once more with a loud yawn, “I’m excited to see what she’ll be wearing.”

“I hope it's not something similar to last time.” Heeseung groaned, remembering the last event he, you and Jay had been invited to. You had worn black, a halter neck dress of satin, which cinched around your waist and flowed off in a skirt that went to your knees. Heeseung had to keep his head buried in his champagne in order to resist dragging you off to the bathroom to satisfy his throbbing boner.

“Why not?”

The sound of your heels was heard first, before you could step into the room, alerting the boys’ ears and causing them to snap their heads in the direction of the entrance. You wouldn't have described their reaction to your dress as ‘jaw dropping’ but for the sake of your ego, you decided to.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung visibly gulp and Jay’s eyes trail down to your chest. Perverts, you thought, though you thought it with a wide smile.

“Don’t you like the outfit?” You asked them, taking a spin for them to see the back of it, giggling to yourself as you did. You knew all those shoulder workouts at the gym would pay off when you wore something like this.

“Backless…” Sunghoon said, his eyes wide, “I mean….….it's classy for sure.” Jake nodded in furious agreement, whilst the older two watched on silently, smirks dangling on their lips.

In all fairness to them, it was something you had never tried before. It was white, to match the boys’ outfits, with a sweetheart neckline that showed off your cleavage. Your back was accentuated perfectly by the sleek dip of the dress. It was bolder and far more dangerous. But what is life without a little danger?

“And you expect us to remain civil throughout the night.” Jay chuckled, swiping a stray stray of hair from his face, “While looking like that.”

“It's not my fault I’m way too pretty.” You shrugged your shoulders, adjusting your own hair with your ringed fingers. A sleek gold band decorated your index finger while another one which was inset with an emerald sat on your ring finger. You had a bracelet as well; the thick, curling wires of gold rested rather coldly against your skin. Since you didn't really have a preference for earrings, you decided to wear tiny hoops of plain gold. A perfect way to subtly complement the outfit.

“Woah honey, tone down the ego.” Jake wolf whistled, making you giggle as you plopped down on an armchair next to Sunghoon.

“Are the divas ready?” You said loudly, calling out to Jay and Heeseung, the latter was fixing his hair meticulously, “Or are we gonna stay here for the night?”

“Well if you give us that invitation…..” Jay said, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. His hair was styled in a way that made your insides curl up and scream. Handsome bastard, you thought.

Just as you were opening your mouth for a retort, there was a knock at the door, followed by it opening without anyone giving an answer. A blonde, curly haired man stepped in, his fox-like eyes widened and his dimple prominent on his upper cheek.

“Hey the car’s read—Woahh.” Sunoo stopped in between his sentence, his eyes trailing up and down the length of your body, “Well hello gorgeous.”

“My eyes are up here, asshole.” You grumbled, getting up and speedily moving over to the door without sparing so much as a glance to Sunoo. He furrowed his brows.

“What did I do now?” He sighed, collapsing onto the armchair you were sitting on, “Don’t tell me this is about last night.”

“Of course it's about last night!” You glared at Sunoo, crossing your arms. Jake’s eyes clearly followed your cleavage again.

“Well don’t wear my hoodie again, you look too sexy to resist.” Sunoo chuckled. Sunghoon laughed as well, nodding his head in agreement.

“My legs are actual jelly Kim Sunoo.” You said smirking as an idea came to your mind. You flashed your right leg forward, exposing the thigh high slit that the dress had. Your ego significantly heightened as you saw how the boys physically stopped in between what they were doing, widening their eyes. Heeseung’s hand was frozen in mid-air, his efforts to brush his hair back proved to be un-futile. Jay chuckled.

“Thanks for taking my advice with the dress, baby.” Jay said, walking towards you, with his hands still in his pockets. Your eyes flickered to his lips and his to yours and soon they were pressed firmly against each other as his hand wrapped around your waist, whilst yours lay flat on his chest. His rings dug into your waist. He faintly tasted like cardamom; his movements were soft and his lips were perfect around yours. You often commented that Jay’s kisses felt the most romantic from all the others and you were, yet again, proven right.

“Gross.” You heard Sunoo say. You glanced at him just at the right moment when he rolled his eyes as you pulled away from the kiss.

“Jealous, Sun?” You smirked, locking eyes with Heeseung at the corner. His eyes were dark and his smirk was mischievous.

“You better go before the driver gets tired of waiting.” Sunghoon smiled warmly at you. Heeseung responded with a soft ‘yep’ while Jay was already ushering you out of the room, his gaze wavering towards your chest every now and then. He walked over quickly and shut the door after you had exited the room, bidding goodbye to the boys.

“You really like the neckline huh?” You giggled, catching Heeseng’s attention, as he snapped his eyes to hold yours in a dark gaze.

“You’re begging to be touched tonight aren't you?” He whispered, bending down to your level, to place a sudden kiss on the curve of your neck. His lips felt cold and slightly moist, probably because of the layers of lip balm he always applied.

“Don’t steal her all to yourself, hyung.” Jay cocked his head to your side, pressing a kiss at your neck as well. His lips felt warm over your neck, in total contrast to Heeseung.

“Are you guys done?” You chuckled, playfully glaring in Jay’s directions, “Horndogs.”

“I mean—” Jay looked at Heeseung, who was smirking, “She is right.” You heard Heeseung chuckle, “We are not staying civil tonight with that dress on you.”

“Didn't think so.” You mumbled.

And it wasn't like you even wanted them to.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

The car ride to the event played out in the usual shenanigans.

Both of your thighs were squeezed by two veiny hands, your right by Heeseung’s and your left by Jay’s. Heeseung was fighting his demons hard not to reach up the dress slit and dive into you with his fingers. You didn't really want him to though; your eyes kept wavering over the rings that both the men wore, imagining what they’d feel like pressed harshly to your throbbing cunt. You were also fighting your demons to not unbutton their silk shirts with your teeth right now.

The car came to a stumbling halt, right as you were feeling sleep hug your eyes. Jolting awake, you glanced to your left to see the faint flashes of cameras appear from the dark window.

The press, media, stardom, fame. In short, all you’d worked your ass off for. You often get reminded of that everytime you attend an event like this one.

“Alright, doll?” Heeseung leaned in and whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin softly. You were suddenly reminded of the fact that your shoulders were to be on naked display all evening, when Heeseung suddenly pressed his lips against the skin on the top of your right shoulder.

“You want me to get in trouble, don’t you?” Your voice wavered only for a moment, when Heeseung stopped his sensual attack on your body. He looked up at you, his doe-like eyes darkened to form half moons.

But before you or he could say anything, you felt another similar sensation against your left shoulder.

“I am a victim of sabotage.” You said blankly, making Heeseung laugh as you turned your head to your left to see Jay’s widened eyes looking up at you, whilst pressing feather-light kisses onto your shoulder. He raised a brow, and rose up straight again.

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” He said, his hair falling ethereally onto his face was distracting you, “You’ll have plenty of sabotage when we get home.”

“Oh yeah.” Heeseung’s whispering voice sent ripples throughout your body, “Loads better.”

You were thankful for the partition in the car in between the driver seat and the back seats. And for the darkened windows as well. All of them contributed in hiding your extremely red face and an expression that said ‘I will kill you both’ but also ‘fuck me hard till you break the bed’.

You were greeted with the intense white light from the cameras as you stepped out of the car, aided ever so graciously by Jay’s gentlemanly outstretched hand, which you grudgingly took as a gesture of goodwill.

The media wouldn't know just how hard Heeseung had smacked your ass as you were climbing out from the car.

The spotlight moment on the red carpet was perhaps even worse.

Were you exaggerating? Maybe. But were you also trying hard not to crumble into pieces right there and then when Heeseung and Jay took turns in pulling you by the waist in the most attractive way possible? Definitely.

“I actually hate you both.” You mumbled as soon as you got inside the main lobby, finally free from the cauldron stares and the reporters commenting on what they’ll write about your ‘provocative’ dress. You didnt really give a fuck anyway, but it was nice to see Heeseung send murderous glares towards them.

“Not our fault you’re way too pretty.” Jay snickered, mimicking your words from earlier and fiddling with his rings. Heeseung silently agreed, his hand softly squeezing your ass serving as testimony. You rolled your eyes, resorting to putting on your game face—a.k.a the sweetest smile you could muster—to impress whoever the hell you were meeting.

You had heard earlier that day that your friend and MC partner Hanbin, of Zerobaseone, was also going to be present at the event. You hadn't told the guys, keeping it your little secret, so as to have an impromptu encounter with him at the venue.

Plus, Hanbin and you talking would certainly add fuel to the flame of your dating rumours, which had already been cleared a long time ago.

However, it was still fresh in Jay and Heeseung’s minds, and you had been taught from early childhood that revenge was a dish best served cold.

Entering the main venue, you were blinded by the flash of all the diamonds and jewels on display. Rows of rings and bracelets studded with jewels flanked every corner, and a multitude of opulent necklaces stood right in the centre. Your eyes were practically gleaming as you saw the earrings.

Soon enough, you, Jay, and Heeseung walked off in different directions, agreeing to meet up at a spot when it was time to go home.

You raced your eyes through the room, trying to spot Hanbin, walking blindly towards the bracelets in your attempt. You were momentarily distracted by the jewelry; it was seducing you into its gold and ruby grasps, and it was safe to say you were sold.

Giving a quick smile to the man behind the counter, you dropped your head down to the lines of bracelets—all sitting atop small black pillows. A lustrous silver one caught your attention first. It was engraved with the brand’s name on the inside and was decorated with carefully carved emeralds all over it. It would have looked amazing on the green dress you owned. Especially with your silver heel—

“Y/N?”

Hanbin.

Jackpot!

“Hey!” You exclaimed surprisedly, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to come, “Fancy seeing you here, oppa.”

“Yeah.” Hanbin shrugged, he was still getting used to you calling him ‘oppa’, “Wow, I didn't know you were here. You look beautiful.” You had to admit that Hanbin did make you blush often, and to be honest you wouldn't mind if any dating rumours crop out of this.

But unfortunately, there were some people who would mind direly.

“I’m here with my members actually.” You chuckled, “Jay and Heeseung. I’m sure they’re drowning in the free champagne though.” You giggled, trying to catch Hanbin off guard, “Were you browsing the bracelets, as well?”

“Matthew will murder me if I don’t get him a bracelet back.” Hanbin chuckled, “Do you have any recommendations?” You smiled sweetly at him and diverted your gaze back to the silver bracelet.

“I do like that one.” You nodded towards the bracelet, “I haven't tried it on yet though.” You chuckled, “Anyway I have way too many bracelets back home, I don't think I’ll buy this one.” Hanbin frowned slightly and asked the man standing behind the counter to show you the piece of silver, completely ignoring your protests.

“Now what kind of an MC partner would I be if I don’t get you a gift hm?” Hanbin smiled softly, putting the jewelry gently around your wrist, “Consider it an advance birthday present.” You giggled at this proposition, knowing well enough that your birthday was months away.

The bracelet looked expensive on you, the cold metal pressing against your skin and illuminating it with its numerous emeralds. Whoever designed this deserved to get a promotion in your high opinion. It shined in all its majesty on your wrist; you felt like it had the ability to make its wearer’s aura—an arcane one. You certainly felt mysterious.

"It's so beautiful…" You mumbled under your breath, “I love it.” You beamed up at Hanbin, who grinned back, “Now, should we choose Matthew’s present?"

"Well, I guess I'll be taking this one as well." Hanbin winked at you, "Along with Matthew's present, of course." He turned his eyes back to the glimmering collection, "How do you think he'll feel about that gold one over there?"

The conversation drifted on for about fifteen minutes, though you kept no track of time. It went from bracelets, to packed schedules, to comebacks and eventually, the well-being of each other's members.

While you chatted away merrily with your friend, two pairs of shimmering eyes stared from the distance, seeing nothing but red painted in the scene in front of them.

While jealousy or pettiness could never easily be seen on Jay’s face, it could be seen as bright as day on Heeseung’s. And boy did he look like an angry bull staring at the matador in the fighting ring.

“You should probably fix your face, hyung.” Jay sipped his champagne, it tasted disgusting, but it was still free alcohol.

“She’s touching his arm.” Heeseung grumbled into his own glass. Though he knew you were a grown woman who could handle yourself and make your own decisions and choices, deep down, he felt that pang of childish jealousy pierce his heart, as he saw you laugh with Hanbin in the distance. The lingering looks and slight touches made his ears turn furiously red.

Jay wasn't any better either. He was unbelievingly horny, and the way your dress draped around your hips so fucking perfectly made his dick ache. His image would probably be in shambles right now; the fabric of his pants wasn't really made for a hard cock.

“Should we go over then?” He suggested, to which the older man simply nodded, downing the rest of his champagne. Jay held onto his own glass though—something to put pressure against.

You, on the other hand, kept chattering away with Hanbin, not so subtly glancing over at ‘your’ men on the other side of the room. Hanbin thankfully didn’t notice—maybe his peripheral vision wasn’t as great as yours was—because he didn't internally smirk evilly when the oldest members of Enhypen started to approach him.

“Oh hey guys.” you exclaimed in an unusually high pitched voice, along with widened eyes, “Look who I found!” You tilted your head towards Hanbin, who smiled sweetly at Heeseung and extended his hand forward. You prayed to whichever God was listening that Heeseung didn't crush his hand—because from the look on his face, he looked like he really, really wanted to. You wondered if Hanbin was choosing to ignore it, or if he really was that sweet of a soul.

“What were you guys looking at?” Jay asked, turning Hanbin’s attention to him, “We were just over there by the rings and we got so distracted we didn't even notice you guys!”

Liar, you thought, they definitely noticed you, and boy did they definitely see you touching his arm.

“I was just buying this pretty thing.” Hanbin pointed to the bracelet on your wrist, “For a pretty girl, of course.” A blush crept to your cheeks and all Heeseung saw was red.

“Oh yeah, we were also looking at stuff for Y/N.” Heeseung forced a laugh, “Speaking of which—” He directed his surprisingly softened eyes towards you, “—do you wanna check out the things we got?”

Oh how well your plan was working.

“Actually, I was helping Hanbin oppa pick out a bracelet for Matthew.” The mere word ‘oppa’ was the final knife to the boys’ hearts, “I’ll be back after a minute, if that's alright?” Your eyes sparkled mischievously as you looked at Jay with the most innocent look you could muster.

“Of course it’ll be alright.” Jay smiled gently, and soon enough, dragged a very unwilling Heeseung off towards the fountains of champagne.

You pressed a freshly-plucked-from-the-waiter glass of champagne to your bosom and picked up the conversation with Hanbin again. You couldn't feel the influence of the alcohol work on you any time soon, though you were fervently hoping for it to. Orgasms always feel better when one is drunk, in your opinion.

From the corner of your eye, Heeseung and Jay seemed to shine in all their majestic glory, with their sleek clothes and their very seductive jewelry. And also their furrowed brows, which switched to polite, saccharine smiles within seconds.

It was a good thing your dress was so easily accessible.

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The pressure on your back felt painfully arousing as Heeseung pressed you to his bedroom wall. The rough feeling of his lips made you whine in between the sloppy kiss. His hand travelled up your leg, to your chest, cupping your breast in his warm fingers. Just that would have been enough to make you cream—what with how stimulated you were at the moment.

You heard Heeseung’s shaky breaths so close to your ear; your face instantly felt like it's on fire, considering how good his hand squeezing the shit out of your tit made you feel. The soft and warm combination of skin and fabric under his hand feels so right and he immediately notices your hard nipple, visible through the fabric.

"Fuck, you really want this, huh?" Now his lips are brushing over your shoulder and the slight growl in his voice makes something deep inside you tighten, "Dirty little baby." If he only knew for how long you'd been craving this, ever since you saw him in that stupid white coat and that stupid jewelry.

Heeseung's lips feel so soft on your shoulder and you move your head a bit to the side, just to give him more room to play with, which he immediately takes advantage of. His lips trail over your shoulder to your neck and he gently starts to suck on that sweet spot, drawing more of those sweet sounds out of you. The sight of Jay in the corner, slowly removing his jacket disappears, drowned out by Heeseung's erratic breathing, and his moans against your neck.

“Heeseung….” You sighed, “...want—want your cock—please..” Your sentence was spoken in a daze, an almost incorrigible accent that only the man in front of you could comprehend.

“Baby wants my cock?” Heeseung almost cooed, one of his hands trailed down your body again to find your exposed thigh, giving it a good squeeze before speaking again, “You’re so demanding aren't you sweetheart?” His hands venture deeper, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch, “Promise you'll be a good girl for daddy then?” You only nod, but even that’s enough for Heeseung to roughly cup your pussy in his hand, “Words baby, use your words.”

“I–ahhh” Your words couldn't even begin to come out, Heeseung’s body put so much pressure against yours “—be your good girl—all yours daddy,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “please—need it inside.”

Heeseung suddenly nibbled on your neck, making you flinch momentarily. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race. He trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“What do you think Jay?” Heeseung called out to the younger man, “Does she deserve my cock?”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jay sitting all relaxed on Heeseung’s gaming chair. His coat was nowhere to be seen and his bracelet and earrings were removed. He titled his head to the side and—in the barely lit atmosphere—you could spot that smug smile dancing on his lips.

“Hmm, I don't know…” He slowly got up and stuffed his hands into his pant pockets, “I don't think she needs it.” You internally swore at Jay, all words that could get out from your mouth, if Heeseung wasn't cupping your pussy so well at the moment.

“All yours then.” Heeseung’s hands abruptly left your skin, “You may want to keep it quiet though, the others might wake up.” He winked and strode away towards his lounge chair in the corner of the room.

You didn't even get time to take a breath before Jay’s soft lips were on yours. Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues were fighting with each other for dominance; it was a sure thing that Jay won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what you knew it could do to you.

"You taste so good…" Jay mumbled in between the passionate moment, "pretty baby" Heat spread all throughout your body at his compliment, he was always marvelous at pet-names. Jay couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your hips and briskly lifted you up, his biceps flexing through his shirt as he did. He looked absolutely succulent.

Laying you down gently on the bed, he was quick to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt, before he leaned over you and connected your lips together again. You broke the kiss just to see his chest peek out from the slightly unbuttoned shirt. You were an expert at removing buttons by now and—naturally—you reached under his shirt and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught his breath.

"You like that huh?” he asked hurriedly, with a cocky smile hanging on his lips, “Needy little slut.” You looked up at him with hooded eyes, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination always made a total waterfall flow between your legs.

He was holding you by your waist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. Jay’s hand traveled up the slit of your dress and his fingers hook themselves onto the waistband of your drenched panties. Ever the expert, he pulls them off faster than you can comprehend.

Your hands meanwhile fly to his pants, pulling down the zipper to leave him in his boxers, which he wrenches them too, impatiently. The atmosphere of the room becomes quite heated as you look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

In one rough tug, he yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in Jay’s hands as he lurched forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet. You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “You gonna stick that tongue inside of me or do I have to wait?”

Jay looks up and squeezes your thigh, making you look him in the eyes. He lets himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. You look at him and grin, eager to get him as riled up as possible before you feel a sudden movement as he pulls your legs completely apart.

“Pretty girl sure knows how to run that mouth huh?” He says, and your hips jerk up slightly on their own volition, desperate for any friction, Jay runs his tongue over his lips, “She wants me to shut it up for her, doesn't she?”

It was evident he didn't need an answer when you felt his tongue glide through your folds; he had found his new home between your legs. You shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. You tear your eyes away from the erotic way Jay’s eyes closed as if he was enjoying his most favourite meal. Your head falls back as a deep moan rips into the air.

An amazing taste blooms on his tongue, crisp and bright with hints of whatever cranberry potion you were drinking and that faint yeasty richness at the back of Jay’s throat. They dance across his palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through his veins that doesn’t soothe his nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into his bloodstream.

Your mouth dropped open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twisted his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasped for air. The dim light of the room highlighted the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

His nose nudged your clit, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy. Jay groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit. Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His tongue flicking between your folds, you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” He circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin. No matter how many times Jay found his head between your thighs, he could never get used to how intoxicating you were, all of his senses and primal instincts honing in on fucking you stupid.

Your hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he could coax from you. It’s pure sin, each sound you made, each shiver that ran through you as he took his time, drinking you down like a man starved. You cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing.

“F-Feels so good…oh fuck—daddy!” His chest filled with pride as you writhed above him. Despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock.His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Oh daddy…..” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him, “Harder—go harder please…” Jay moaned against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He thrusts his tongue greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. It’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling. The stretch is something you could never get used to; it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. All you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his shoulders with your nails, digging into the flesh.

“need you inside, daddy,” you looked down at him, “fuck me.” Jay’s cock strains, pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

“Fuck it—can’t wait.” He mumbles. His lips parted from your pussy in mere seconds and before you knew it, you were pressed flat against the bed. You could taste the cranberry tones of your own cum on his lips, he looked absolutely beautiful with his face all red and his mouth smeared with your spillage.

"Tch tch." You heard the clicking of a tongue in the background, “So I don’t get to have her then, do I?”

Jay slowed down at Heeseung’s brooding voice and closed his eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Have fun with him, princess.” He smirked and climbed down the bed.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the tall figure of Heeseung slowly approaching, his hands in his pockets and his chest peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. He places his knee at the foot of the bed and he climbs up to you. Sitting on his knees, in between your legs, he smirks.

“You didn't cum properly with Jay, did you baby?” He tilts his head at you. Jay scoffs from somewhere in the corner, “Oh be a good sport, Jongseong.” Heeseung’s smile remains as calm as ever.

“You’re basically saying you can fuck her better than i can.” Jay chuckles, “And I'm supposed to be a good sport.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant at all.” Heeseung leans down and presses his lips to your neck, sucking on the spot for a second or so—though it felt like eternity to you, “I’m only saying she prefers cock more than tongue.” His deer-like eyes had a carnivorous lust behind them, “Isn't that right, baby?” Heeseung leaned in and blew cold air onto your neck, making you shiver. He smirked and kissed your neck softly, licking the slick skin.

You looked up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his button up and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms.

Heeseung took this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. You spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. You whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often.

“Fuck—needy baby wants my cock huh?” He kisses at your collarbone, lips catching on the exposed skin of your chest, then breasts as he slowly pulls you up to place you on your ass. He strips off his pants and boxers and grabs your waist once more as he sinks into the pile of pillows, purposefully—and rather masterfully—avoiding where you need him most. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, while you settle down on his hips, smooth fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals.

You didn't know if it was the pure fact that you were one horny bitch or if you were just really craving cock, but the sight of Heeseung’s beautiful dick made you stare. It was so thick and heavy, the mushroom tip was already glistening with pre-cum. You always did say that his dick was the prettiest out of all of them—which earned you quite a lot of rough sex last year. Heeseung’s body was hot, his skin flushed as he relaxed into the mattress even more.

“Go on sweetheart.” He said, in that cocky, condescending tone that always made your pussy gush like a fountain, “Ride it like a good little slut.”

Your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him. You sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you perfectly—at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. You love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

Heeseung’s hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his bare chest rising and falling.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath, his hands were really digging into your naked flesh “Such a fucking slut—treatin’ me so gooodd…..” Heeseung slurred his words as if he was heavy under the influence—of your scent, your pretty pussy wrapped ‘round him, and just the sight of you.

Heeseung was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. He easily found your g-spot; it wasn't a surprise considering how he knew each corner of your body like the back of his hand. “Fuck—oh fucking hell—oh daddy!” your eyes rolled back and at the same time you whined, “F-feel so good—ahh goddd”

Your walls stretched deliciously around the welcomed intrusion that was his length, your pussy clenching around him for all that he had. The sounds falling from your lips were nothing short of pornographic, the moans and choked sobs only pushing Heeseung closer to the edge.

"fuck. . ." He huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. He hates how tired he was already getting but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

You whine and try to take more. Another inch disappears inside you and your thighs tremble as you focus on breathing.

"You're so big," you whine when you take another inch. A shaky breath slips past his lips and his hand tightens on your skin.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark, “Looked so damn good in that tiny little dress.” His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place.

The rough hands on your hips drifted upwards, finding their home around your neck, gently still. But even the soft grip had you reeling, gripping his wrists. The room was heated, and you felt as if you were going to explode. This would definitely leave a few marks on your neck—nothing some makeup couldn't fix.

Every clench of your walls around his length shoots a thrill straight to his stomach, making him ache with the urge to crawl into your skin.The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

You indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. He's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that you need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Heeseung wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

“Fuck. Me.” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out.

“Shit—cumming!” You all but scream. Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Exhausted, you lean forward, such that your face is close to his. His cock still rested inside of you, and he brought a hand up to caress your cheek.Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm.

“We should let Jay have a turn too, shouldn't we baby?” He asked through ragged breaths, “Or you’re too tired?”

“Fuck no.” You huffed, looking at him with widened eyes. Lifting your hips up gently, you whined as you felt his length leave the warmth of your pussy.

You landed on your stomach as you rolled over to the edge of the bed. Curling your back, you sat up on your arms, and looked at Jay, who was sitting calmly on an armchair. Or so you thought, until you noticed—through your euphoria-filled eyes—that his chest was rising and falling rapidly. The place where he sat looked wet to you—and truth be told—so did his dick. You smirked and tilted your head at him.

“You could have at least told me you were touching yourself..” You said, in a sultry tone, “You know I would have loved to watch.” You dramatically sighed and looked at him with the best sparkling doe eyes you could muster, “But you don't love me enough to tell me, do you daddy?”

If there was one word to describe what Jay was experiencing at the moment on seeing your plump lips shaped in a pout, it would be the word ‘melting’. Your body looked stunning, draped in the covers of the night like some sort of expensive silk. Jay’s heart beat fast, though he didn't show it on his face. He only cocked his head to the side and smiled.

“Maybe next time, princess.” He said coolly as if his dick was rock hard by this point at the sight of your tits. You heard Heeseung mutter ‘if there is a next time’ and you rolled your eyes; he never really liked sharing you. You smiled at Jay and extended your hand forward, “Join us?”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he felt his cock getting soaked with precum all pulled him deeper into the recesses of his brain. The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reached a fever pitch.

And before he knew it, Jay was lying next to you. He could see Heeseung over on your other side; he looked as if he had died from the mind-blowing orgasm you had given him.

Your arms circled his shoulders, clawing at the smooth skin. “Need your cock so bad, Jay.” Jay was about to implode from the inside at your sparkling doe-eyes. Who was he to refuse such a pretty girl like you?

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he's teasing your labia, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine.

“J-Jay..” You whimpered, feeling his hard tip nudge your aching cunt, “daddy, don't tease”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being so good for daddy aren't you?”

"Fuck...oh God.." you cry out slightly as he pressed your chest to his, his hand wrapped snug around your body. "Damn it.." he huffed slightly when you squeezed around him, his eyebrows knitting down.

He groaned deeply, gritting his teeth as he pressed in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shuddered as he filled you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sank further in until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.

“pussy’s so fucking tight,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin, “squeezing me so good, baby.”

"Ah—ah!" you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you to the brink of insanity "Harder—daddy, want it harder…."

"Look at you," he breathed, "takin' me so well. Perfect little cunt, fuck-"

Your eyelids fluttered and your mouth dropped open, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to your peak. You felt the heat pooling low at the base of your spine and your breathing was reduced to sharp gasps.

His hands pushed and pulled your body up and down—fast—and it had your fingers digging into his chest for balance.

"Shit...feels so good," he moaned, jaw slack and eyes glassy as he watched you whine and writhe. Sweat dotted your forehead and you felt that familiar crest swelling deep inside.

"Jay—" you pant, voice cracked and hoarse.

"I got you, sweetheart," he murmured before harshly snapping his hips. You moaned his name and squeezed your eyes shut, the angle stealing your breath and making your thighs shake. A hand pressed on the base of your spine, pushing you down and holding you still while he fucked up into you. Each bruising thrust had you whimpering into his neck but you're so fucking close, you just sit there and take it until the dam breaks and you practically screamed out his name, your voice echoing off the walls in the dark.

“You’re really enjoying yourselves without me aren’t you?” Heeseung’s voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter, “What amazing friends I have.” Though your ears were ringing too loudly and your blood was pumping too fast, you still felt his hot breath waver down your neck and back.

“We are.” Jay roughly responded; his thrusts had slowed down considerably and he was now looking at Heeseung, “And if you wanna join us hyung, quit whining already.”

“That impatient for some pussy huh?” Heeseung smirks and presses the head of his cock agasint your ass You savor the delicious stretch of him as he pushes his hips forward, nails scratching the skin of Jay’s back with the motion, your walls squeezing around Jay’s shaft, “Fuck—pretty ass always remembers me doesnt she?”

You gasp with a nod, arching your back as Heeseung suddenly fills you completely. Your nails dig even deeper, maybe even drawing blood on Jay’s back. You turn to look at Heeseung and instantly see the hunger in his eyes. Jay’s hands grip your hips and he starts to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each thrust sends finite sparks of pleasure through your body, helpless to the small moans that escape your lips.

“Heeseung!” You’d squeal. “Fucking hell….”

“Using your big girl words, baby?” Heeseung chuckles breathily as he eases inside of you, but his length is astounding, nudging deep against your back before he’s even fully sheathed. His thrusts are fumbling at first, hearing the deep breaths he takes as he adjusts to the intense feeling around his cock.

Jay leans in slightly, mesmerized by your twisted expression of obvious pleasure but also at how fucking amazing your pussy felt as it hugged his hug so warmly.He felt a jolt of electricity through him with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails left on the skin of his back.

Eventually the two men find a steady rhythm that had you gasping with every thrust, fingers crawling up Jay’s bare back until you reach his face, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you moan like a girl in a porno drooling over the sheets.

A broken, shaky noise falls from Heeseung’s lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.

You whine, Jay’s back was probably all scarred by now, as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. Heeseung always liked it rough, plus—you'd known him long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. And he was fucking good at it. You'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. Because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

The ache between your legs forms into a burn from how hard they fuck you, chasing their own high now. Your lips press weak kisses against Jay's throat. You feel the vibrations from his grunts and the salty taste of his skin.

“You like that baby?” Heeseung chuckles, “You like the way our cocks fill you up?” Jay chuckles as well.

“Yeah she does.” He accentuates every word with a harsh, toe curling thrust, “Our pretty little slut.”

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around them in rhythmic pulses that make your vision blur. Jay stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

You feel yourself on the brink of coming undone, every stroke of Jay’s cock pushing you closer to tumbling over the edge. The fluttering tell of your cunt steals a moan deep from Jay’s chest. He picks up the pace of his thrusts with a steeled jaw, the bed frame squeaking noisily against the tiled floor as he rocks you back and forth unrelentingly.

Heeseung clenched his teeth as his balls slapped against your ass. He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it.

He bottomed out and went all the way to the hilt, his tip kissing your cervix. You cry out as his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the sound mixed in with the already lewd noises of your moans and wet slapping.

“Dirty fucking baby.” he panted, his hot breath sending additional shivers down your spine, “Getting what you wanted, sweetheart?” His words rasped between short breaths.

You merely whimper to his question, too fucked out to say anything at all. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song.

“Need to cum—ahh ah!” you beg breathlessly, and you can feel the movement of their cocks speeding up as they get desperate. Jay sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing.

“Please,” you whispered, and it’s the first word that you’ve been able to make out in the last several moments, “Please, please, please—” You’re so desperate that it borders on pathetic, you’re practically whining with need, “Fuck, I need—I need-”

It was so cliche. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it, feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused; your hips wriggled uncontrollably as your orgasm came ripping through your body.

You cum with a broken sob, an intense wave of ecstasy washing over as Jay works you masterfully through your orgasm. Heeseung’s approving moan mingles with your cries of pleasure, working silently at your ass as you work through your frantic breathing, palming Jay’s back gently at his squeezes comfortingly at your thighs.

The ache in your cunt is devastating but both of them watch with admiration as the opaque liquid pushes out of your hole as your cunt spasms. Flashes of release spraying your insides play behind Heeseung’s closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull.

Jay’s cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowed, becoming sloppier, rushed, his hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him till he was dry, it made him let out a deep sigh.

You slumped back in Heeseung’s arms just as both of them slowly pulled out, making you whimper. Your pussy was probably dead by now and a wave of relief passed through you as you realised you had a rest day tomorrow. There was no way in hell your legs could function properly for another three weeks.

"You alright, baby?" Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You chuckled.

"I'm at least more alive than he is." You poked at the lifeless, snoring body of Jay, who looked as if he had attained eternal peace.

"Better follow in his footsteps then." Heeseung laughed, and pressed another kiss as you relaxed into his body, "Night, baby."

"Goodnight, Heeseung." You yawned and let him hold you close to his body, providing you with intimate comfort. You smiled to yourself before you drifted off to sleep.

What a productive day it had been.

504 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 10 months ago

Text

mexico

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, soft!rafe, established relationship, overbearing/annoying parents, proposal, marriage talk

“and why would i not want to come?” rafe questions, a soft smile on his face as he looks over to you.

“my family can be… a lot sometimes. i wouldn't blame you if you couldn't be around them for a whole two weeks.” you explain softly.

“but then i would have to be away from you for two whole weeks.” rafe hums. “i can put up with them if it means being with you.”

“stop it.” you whine out. “you're gonna make me all blushy.”

“i love how easily i get you all flustered.” rafe laughs, pulling you onto his lap.

you've purposely only let rafe around your parents in small doses. they can be overwhelming, intense, and if they get on your nerves, they'll certainly get on rafes.

rafe holds you closer to his chest, his mouth finding yours. you allow him to kiss you for a minute before you pull away, much to rafes dismay as he frowns.

“okay, so to prepare you for them-”

“kiss first.” rafe interrupts. “prepare later.”

you can't argue with that logic.

“rafe, did you remember your socks and underwear?”

“mom!” you gasp. “he's a grown man, oh my god. you don't need to announce that in a crowded airport.” you hiss out the last part, a warning against any of her antics, not that it does anything to dull her.

“oh, relax sweetie.” she laughs. “i just don't want your boyfriend to have to get to mexico only to have to buy a pack of undies.”

“oh my god.” you grab rafe, pulling him a bit farther away from your parents, hopefully meaning they won't talk to either of you as much. “im so sorry about them.”

“hey, it's fine.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “just think about mexico. we're going to get there and lay out on the beach just the two of us. ill take you shopping and we'll spend all our money on tourist traps.”

“yeah, when my dad isn't forcing us to go to museums or cultural sites and my mom isn't snapping 1,000 pictures of us.” you look over at your parents only to realize your mom is taking a picture of you at this very moment.

your groan is drowned out by rafes laughter.

“mama, we are going out to the beach!” you call.

“oh, goodness!” she quickly rushes into the living room, the back patio opening up right onto the sand.

“be back in time for dinner, dears!” she says, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen and adding it to your bag.

“we'll be just outside, mom.” you say, allowing her to kiss both your cheeks. despite finding your parents overwhelming at times, you love them and know they love you too.

“rafe, she burns easily. make sure you reapply for her.” your mom says, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well.

“yes ma'am.” rafe nods.

you make your way outside before she can say anything else, walking until you're closer to shore.

“let me know when you need more sunscreen.” rafe smirks at you as you both lay out towels. “im always down to get my hands on your body.”

“perv.” you laugh, making rafe growl and reach over to tickle your sides, ending up lying on the same towel in a heap.

your hand in rafes is the biggest solace as your dad continues on about the history of the town, deigning himself an honorary tour guide.

“sorry about this.” you squeeze rafes hand. it was interesting at first, but now that you're on the third hour of explanation about the architecture of one building or how the streets were made, it's becoming boring and manatonis.

“no problem.” rafe hums. “seriously you gotta stop apologizing, baby. your parents aren't that bad, plus, they made you, so i kinda have to thank them for that.”

“oh you're so sweet.” you whine, leaning in to turn your voice into a whisper. “you are absolutely getting laid tonight.”

“and you are absolutely getting treated to a beautiful and private dinner. i already talked to your mom about it. she called me a little romantic.” rafe smirks.

“you are a little romantic.” you giggle, reaching across the table to hold rafes hand, the flame of the candle flickering in between the two of you, appetizers and entrees finished, waiting for a dessert to split to be brought out to you.

“have to tell your mom she was right.”

“hopefully they're asleep when we get back.” you can't help the smirk that stretches over your cheeks.

“oh, you are desperate for it, huh?” rafe laughs, sitting back as the waiter brings you out a chocolate cake dripping in fudge.

“it's been like four whole days, of course im desperate.”

“oh fuck.” you whisper, head tilted back against the sheets, rafe between your legs, thrusting mercilessly inside of you.

“god, you're so warm.” rafe hums out, burying his cock inside of you repeatedly.

“to-touch me.” you whine out, rafe instantly knowing what you're really asking for. “i need it.”

rafe drops his hand to your clit, rubbing it as he feels you pulsing around him as your high builds.

“nice and tight for me baby. and so wet.” rafe hums out, struggling to keep his voice low since your parents are asleep not far away.

“gonna cum- rafe!” you let out a gasp. “gonna cum, please.”

rafe moves as fast as his tired legs will allow, wishing he wasn't so worn out from the very long walk around the city with your father.

he makes up for his lack of pace with his thumb on your clit, rubbing and flicking over your bud until your high breaks.

your back arches off the bed with a moan as you cum probably a little too loud, rafe releasing inside of you only a moment later with a moan of his own.

“some mama and me time would be nice.” you smile, looking at the spa package your mom laid out in front of you.

“mhm. and your dad has something planned for him and rafe.” she says, looking over to your boyfriend.

“are you okay with that?” you ask, looking over at him as he eats his bacon.

“sure.” he nods. “would be nice to get to know him. one on one, ya know.”

“where are we going?” rafe questions, looking out the taxi window as it takes him further into the city.

“a shop.” your father just hums out, leaving it at that.

“okay.” rafe allows the silence to settle until they reach the store. he understands exactly why he's been brought here as he sees the storefront, advertising glittering bracelets and diamond rings.

“sir, i should let you know-” rafe clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the velvet box. “i already have what i think you brought me here to influence me to buy.”

your father's eyebrows raise in surprise as rafe continues.

“i haven't asked your permission yet, but i know i want to marry your daughter. i love her very much.”

“we would be honored to have you become part of our family, son.” your dad says, clearing his throat as tears well in his eyes.

“last night.” you hum, looking out onto the the water, the moonlight glittering over the waves.

“actually-” rafe smiles, tucking you further into his side. “we are extending our trip by a week. your parents are going home, though.”

“really?” your eyes widen.

“they insisted, actually.” he chuckles. “on one condition.”

“what's the condition?” you question as rafe sinks to his knees pulling out a box.

“that you say yes.”

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simpingforheros · 4 months ago

Note

I need more of the Jason Todd wife’s story cause you ATEEEE

Jason Broke What??

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Dick played stupid games and won stupid prizes, but at least he got to see his sister in law’s ass.

Warning: 18+, NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Not Proofread . Female Pronouns and Anatomy, Dirty talk, Degeragtion/Praise, Violence Against Richard Grayson, Smut, Fluff, Comedy, P in V, Illusions to Anal (fem receiving), Voyeurism, Oral (p and a) (fem receiving), Fingering (fem receiving), Implied Heavy Petting, Nonconsensual Peeping Tom, Masturbation, and plot twist.

A/N: Part 3 to Jason’s Girl?? And Jason’s Wife?! . And again, I'm sorry to keep harassing you Pookie, @jjenthusee, but I feel its only right that you be tagged in the conclusion of this trilogy because you started all of this.

A/N: IM BACK, BABES! You miss me? I miss you all. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers during my break to take care of my family. Also if this fic seems rough, I was writing this in my car during break. Also, I know one of my big no-nos is accepting requests for full fanfics but I had an idea and if the masses want to see more of Dick's misery then I wanna feed yall.

*******************************************************

The holidays were everyone’s favorite time of the year. Especially Bruce and Alfred’s. Surprisingly, Bruce developed a love for them later in his adult life due to his years of constantly having to play Santa to his growing hoard of sidekicks. Now with a manor full of teens and children from multiple different backgrounds and cultures, Alfred proposes a family trip to their private ski resort.

Everything was going smoothly. Tim, Bernard, and Stephane were enjoying ice skating along the frozen lake while Duke, Cass, and Damian were skiing down large hills and mountains trying to out do the other. Bruce and Selina were of course mostly confined to their bedroom, only venturing out for a dinner date or to spend time with the family, while Alfred enjoyed taking a break from everyone doing whatever he delighted himself in doing.

Everyone was happy..

Except for Dick. This year was one of the worst for him. Kori started officially dating Roy Harper after some mission she was involved in with the Outlaws and Barbra didn’t want to see him anymore. And to make matters worse, Jason and his wife of a year were all over each other.

Dick couldn’t even do anything without his brother being there, unintentionally rubbing his healthy love life in his face.

Wanted to go skiing? Jason was already there. His large hands were sturdy on (Y/N)'s back as he was showing her as she was balancing on a snowboard. Her curves were highlighted in the snow by her red snowsuit that just so happened to match Jason's black and red suit. Her eyes light up through her snow goggles as she successfully maneuvers around the terrain with Jason's loud praises.

Wanted to go ice skating? The Todds were already there stumbling over each other as Jason's normally composed stance wavers in his ice skates as his blushing wife giggles and helps him slowly adjust to the new feeling of unease. For a viglieante, he certainly didn't skate like one. Dick wasn't exactly fond of witnessing his younger brother purposefully comp a feel of (Y/N)'s perky ass as he 'stumbles' into her.

Even relaxing in the main room of the huge million dollar cabin was impossible as the moment the moon shines bright in the sky or the sun barely kisses their existence, Jason and (Y/N) were so domestically in tune with the room. It was almost like witnessing a Hallmark movie.

The couple would be in the kitchen with Jason preparing a simple soup with her propped up on the counter, ready to taste the soup when he offered her the wooden spoon. A mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up into his own as she hums at the taste. Dick nearly cringes when he witnesses Jason's sideways smirk as he flexes his hand on her hip.

Sometimes the couple would be sitting on the sofa near the fire. A thick wool blanket wrapped around them as they relaxed into each other. Dick tries not to acknowledge them. Not to recognize the softness of Jason's features as he lazily enjoys his wife's nails lightly scratching his scalp. Not to recognize her plump lips curving deeper as the blanket shifts slightly and Jason's hand caresses her thigh higher than he should. It was especially bad when they would whisper into each other's ears before the pair would hurrily go to their room in a whisper of an excuse of faux exhaustion before giggling as they lock themselves away.

Thankfully, they did those sinful acts of love away from Dick at least. .. Or so he thought.... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was a skiing accident that started the whole ordeal.

The Bat family had been skiing down the steepest hill they could find out of Stephanie and Damian's petty competition that everyone decided to get involved in. The only members that weren't there were Alfred, who demanded that none of the family ever mention putting him in skiis anywhere near his presence, and the Todds.

Much to Dick's relief, (Y/N) was feeling a bit nauseous and decided to stay behind along with the concerned Red Hood.

Unfortunately, the friendly competition took a turn when Dick accidentally sleds over a rock which caused him to fly off his skis and tumble down the hill. The fiery ache in his arm gave the acrobat a headache as he desperately hoped he didn't break his arm in a lame skiing accident.

"Son of a bitch!" He curses as Bruce skies down to check on him.

"Are you alright?" His adoptive father asks as he carefully helps him up. Dick's eye watering as he jerks his injured arm away from Bruce as he accidentally brushes against it.

Bruce notices the jerk and immediately takes the arm in a gentle grasp as he clinically flexes and prodes at the appendage. Dick nearly cursing as Selina and Damian come down to check on him.

"I don't think its anything too serious," Bruce says as he pulls away. "At worst, you probably have a hairline fracture in it. Alfred would have to check it out just to make sure."

Selina, acting as the pseudo- stepmother figure she was, gently places a hand on Dick's shoulder as she ask, "Do you need me to drop you off at the cabin?"

The eldest son shakes his head before grumbling, "I can make it back on my own. I could use some alone time anyway."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Unfortunately, Dick doesn't find Alfred when he comes back to the cabin after walking back in the cold snow. Only a note reading,

'I've gone to an event at the main resort tonight. Please contact me through the main resort hotline and I promise to get back to you- Alfred'

"Fucking great..." Dick groans as he decides to just head to bed. His body aches from the trauma of the fall as he drags his feet up the large staircase and up to the main hallway towards the suites bedrooms. It wasn't until a faint but familiar sound that caused the fatigue in him to melt.

The familiar sound of breathlessness that he had only heard one angel sing before. (Y/N)...

As he discreetly walked down the hallway, the melody of whines and moans filled his ears along with the familiar sounds of slurping and squelching.

The cracked door to Pandora's Box calling to him as he hears the whimpers of, "Fuck, baby...."

"Ah not there! Its so embarrassing...."

"Jason, more..."

Dick peers into the door to see something that he wished he could snap a picture of and keep forever just like he did those videos.

Sprawled out on the bed was her in all of her glory. Her skin glowing in perspiration and pleasure as she lays with her cheek pressed against the mattress with her round globes of flesh in the air. Her eyes clouded with tears and desperation as she looks over her shoulder to her lover as her glossy lips whimper.

Jason was only in his tight black boxers as his hand squished the soft flesh of her cheek to the side. His eyes staring back into hers with the same pathetic lust and dominance that he always had as he eats her out from behind. His nose appearing and disappearing in the crack as his tongue plays a cruel game of tag.

His slow, lugritive strokes down to her puffy clit interchange with the rough darting over her pulsing hole before sofly licking up to her puckered hole. His fingers never leaving her neglected as he would hold her pussy open before lazily playing with her clit in between licks.

"Jason, quit being a tease..." She whines before yelping as he roughly pinches her clit. His mouth pulling away from her as she whines.

He begins to slowly tease her folds as he scolds her softly, "I didn't ask for you to be ungrateful."

Her hips jittering to regain some friction before he smacks her ass as he continues. Her whimpers of pain causing Dick's own cock to jump in his pants as he tries to ignore his brother as he kept his eyes on (Y/N). His hand slowly releasing his cock from his ski pants as he continues to watch the scene before him.

"Here I am trying to take care of you after you've been sick all day and all I get in return is some sass." Jason scolds cruelly before he inserts two fingers roughly into her cunt. Her cheeks burning hot under her tear stained skin as her body welcomes him with a sicking squelch as she mumbles.

"I-i'm sorry baby..."

Jason's gaze softens before a mocking look of sympathy appears on his face as he begins to thrust his fingers into her. The slight curve of his hand memorizing her body as he instantly found her G-Spot as she cries in pleasure.

"It's okay, Ma." He coos as he presses open kisses to her shoulders and back as he begins to brutally pound her cunt with his fingers. Her eyes jumping back into her skull as he continues to assault her senses as he says.

"You can't help it that you are sick as a dog in the mornings and then a raging whore at night...Afterall," Jay whispers as his mouth slowly decends back down her body. "Little bit isn't making this easy for you, is she?"

She desperately nods as she tries to roll her hips back to meet his hand as he chuckles at her. "It's alright. I'll take care of you, Baby, but I want you to take care of me too. We are family..."

His mouth instantly attacks her puckered asshole just as she seizes up and orgasms as her eyes roll back into her skull. Her desperate sobs turn into overstimulated whimpers as Jason doesn't let up on her abused holes.

It wasn't until she was still that he raised up and pulled his boxers down. His smirk grew to a shit-eating grin as despite her tired face, she wiggled her hips, ready for him to take her.

"Ass or Cunt?"Jason asks as he jerks his bright angry cock.

Her lips curl in a lazy grin as she says, "Both."

"That's my girl." He says as he lines his tip up with her pussy as he slowly pushes in.

Her whimper along with his groan of relief as his hips slowly meet hers. His upper body bends down to meet her lips in a deep kiss as his hips meet her ass. His hand slides around the plushness of her hip to rest on her lower stomach as he whispers to her mouth.

"Maybe it's not too late to give Little Bit a sibling."

She giggles before she presses another peck to his lips before he rises back up to place his foot adjacent to her knee. Not giving her any more time to adjust, his hips begin to slowly thrust into her quivering body as his hand keeps a tight grip on her asscheek, spreading her open. His cerulean eyes trained on the creamy ring that was slowly developing on the base of his thick cock as he disappears deep inside her.

"Jason..." (Y/N) whimpers as his pace begins to increase.

"God, how is she still so tight?" He groans as his hips begin to snap into hers, his eyes wide as he watches her ass ripple at the growing intensity of his thrusts.

Dick's own hand tries to match the pace as he tries to imagine he was the one fucking her instead of Jason. That he wasn't the one pathetically fucking his fist outside of his brother's room with his other arm possibly fractured.

Her face contorting in pure ecstasy as her manicured nails tear into the comforter. Her wedding rings shining in the low light of the room as Jason's own wedding band disappears in her hair. His grip looks unforgiving as he forces her head deeper into the mattress. His free hand stretching as his thumb circles her ass with light pressure as she cries into the plush bedding.

"Fuck you look so pretty." Jason moans as he slowly fucks his thumb centimeter by centimeter into her ass as gently as he could as his hips abuse her cunt. "I wonder how much prettier you would look with my cum dripping out of his cute little ass and pussy. You think everyone will notice you limping?"

He chuckles as he manages to fill her to the first knuckle as he stops his pace to grind into her, letting the feeling of him invading both of her hole and filling her sink in.

Her hips trembling as she tries to create more friction as her sobful begging wasn't even intelligible as he kept her head down. From the impossibly growing slick on his thighs, it was obvious that her orgasm was coming again and soon as Jason's free hand releases her hair and instead pulls her up flushed against his chest.

Her wanton cries filling the room as she was now exposed for the first time to the room. Her bare breast were littered in dark hickies as Jason's hand comes to paw at her tits. Her arms reaching back as one tangles at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his ass, encouraging him to continue.

"Please..." She begs as trembles in his hold. "Please fuck me...fuck all my holes please. I'm yours to do as you please..."

Jason smiles softly before kissing her cheek. "Good girl...that's my good, sweet little wife..."

His praises never end as his hips begin to snap into her at a brutal pace. Both of their voices became higher in pitch as they began to get lost in each other.

"That's it. Take it. Take it all. It's all for you and you only."

"You're doing so good. No one has such a soft, loving heart and cunt like yours..."

"I love you so much."

"I love you too" She manages to reply back before it hits her.

It was then that she screamed out Jason's name as her coil snapped inside her. Her eyes roll back again as her walls squeeze his cock as he follows her with a rough cry.

Dick quickly covers his mouth as his own orgasm hits him after he managed to not make a mess and not be discovered so far.

The base of Jason's cock is a mess as their releases flow down and drip before the pair calms down with a soft kiss on each other's lips. His cock pulls out of her as he massages her lower stomach gently as he pulls away. His eyes shone in pure admiration and concern.

"You okay?" Jason asks softly as he cups her face.

Her tired eyes staring at his lovingly as she whispers. "Yea...Can I have some water before we go again?"

They both smirk at eachother before Jason pecks her lips as he mumbles. "You're insatiable."

He stands up from the bed as she collapses into the pillow. He pulls on his boxers and heads to the door before Dick even recognizes out of his lust full daze. He didn't have time to react as Jason swings open the door to the pathetic sight before him.

Dick 'Motherfucking' Grayson was peeping into his brother's room. Watching his brother making love to his wife. And jerking off to it.

Before Dick could explain, Jason's face twists in anger as his cold glare indicating that this maybe Nightwing's last day on Earth.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

And like that Dick tries to run away back down the large stair case as Jason chases him to beat his ass. Karma is an ugly bitch because just as the front door was opening, Dick violently twists away from Jason's grasps so hard that he tumbles down the stairs with a large crack and several gasps indicating the end of the vacation.

And that was the story of how Jason broke Dick's arm and little Richard after he caught him being a weirdo.

+++++++++++++

A/N: I swear I'm not a Dick Grayson hater, but I think its kind of tradition now to always rip on him in this miniseries. I hope y'all enjoyed it and please comment what you liked and didn't like about this. I swear I'll actually start cleaning out my drafts soon.

+++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE OR CONSENT TO MY POSTS OR WORKS BEING PUBLISHED, PLAGERIZED, STOLEN, REBLOGGED, OR COPIED ONTO ANY OTHER WEBSITE OR BLOG.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight jason todd #jason todd x y/n #simpingforheros #arkham knight x you #batman arkham series #redhood fanfic writer #red hood x reader #redhood smut #dc red hood #redhood x reader

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enha-stars · 1 year ago

Text

✧ the love game

pairing: gamer!heeseung x reader (fluff, smut)

summary: heeseung loves his video games, but he loves you a whole lot more

warnings: fluff, kissing, sex, p in v, riding, oral (f rec.), cockwarming, minor exhibitionism, unprotected sex (don’t), overstimulation, mdni

you stumbled through your front door, feet aching as you dropped your bag on the floor. you glanced around the dark room as you breathed in the familiar scent of your apartment, giddiness filling your chest.

it had been a tough day–no, a tough week. everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. you were tired and a bit hungry, and all you wanted was to shower and lay down with heeseung. it was finally friday, which meant you could sleep in and not worry about the next day.

you kicked off your shoes and tossed your jacket to the side. your lips quirked upwards when you heard the sound of heeseung’s laughter from your bedroom and you quietly walked to him, hoping he was finishing a game.

you pushed open the door and leaned against the door frame, your eyes falling on a familiar figure. heeseung sat in the dimly lit room, fully immersed in the world of gaming. his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard and his eyes were fixed on the screen as he mumbled into the mic attached to his large headphones. your eyes softened at the sight, warmth flickering in your chest.

you quietly chuckled and shook your head, walking further into the bedroom. when heeseung played, sometimes, he was completely disconnected from the real world. like now, for example, he hadn’t heard you come in so when you rested your hand on his shoulder, he flinched and screamed.

“fuck!” he turned his head to you, eyes wide as his fingers stilled. “you scared me.” at your grin, his surprise settled and his eyes softened, a gleam of happiness shining in them. he smiled at you and your heart squeezed at the sight of his soft smile; the way his lips stretched and his cheeks filled.

you smiled down at him and he paused his game, muting his mic as he slipped off the headset. he turned his chair slightly and brought his hands up to your waist.

“baby, you’re home.” he looked up at you and you leaned down and pressed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips and the heaviness of the week slowly began to melt away. “welcome home. how was your day?”

you shook your head and stood straighter. “it was certainly a day.” heeseung frowned at the exhaustion in your eyes and he squeezed your hips once. “i’m gonna go shower. i’ll be back.”

heeseung nodded and pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach. you ran your hand through his hair once before stepping away. he watched you strip as you walked to the bathroom through the reflection of his computer scream, shaking his head to rid the racing thoughts.

he picked up the headset and unmuted his mic, rolling his eyes when jay chastised him for just leaving mid-way. instead of answering, he started a new game and immersed himself in the bright colours and characters.

you slipped into the shower and sighed in relief as the warm water washed all the day’s dirt away. you scrubbed your body and washed your hair, eyes softly shut. you could hear heeseung’s laughter and yelling and it brought you a sense of immense comfort.

you turn off the shower and grab your towel, wrapping it around yourself. a part of you wonders what would happen if you toss the towel and just walk into your bedroom naked. there’s a need bubbling in your chest and as you slip on one of heeseung’s old shirts, you wonder how long you’d have to wait for heeseung.

you step out of the bathroom and shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. your eyes land on heeseung’s back and the way his fingers dance across the keys, fast and precise. you bite your bottom lip as you stare at his fingers; long and veiny and skilled.

you toss the towel to the side and make your way to him, hoping he’d understand the need in your eyes. because your week had been so busy, you hadn’t really seen a lot of your boyfriend. you missed him, and you needed him to hold you. you wanted to fall asleep in his arms and not worry about your alarm.

heeseung doesn’t notice as you approach him, too busy staring at the screen as he tries and saves riki’s character. “for fucks sake, we’re going to lose,” he mumbles into the mic, eyes fixated on the screen.

“hee,” you quietly say. you put your hand on his shoulder and the corners of his lips turn upwards at your voice. he side-eyes you and you squeeze his shoulder. “are you almost done?”

he turns and looks at you for a brief second, smiling widely at your freshly showered face and his gaze drops as he takes you in; standing before him in nothing but his shirt. “almost, baby. you wanna lay down and i’ll join you in a bit?”

you bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head. “can i just be near you?”

instantly, heeseung’s eyes soften and his heart breaks a little, wanting nothing more than to scoop you up and lay with you on the bed. he lifts his fingers from the keys and rolls his chair back. he looks up at you with wide, shiny eyes and you smile at him as you straddle him.

heeseung sighs softly when you put all your body weight on him, your chest pressed against his as your arms circle his neck. he wraps one arm around your lower back and pushes you flush against him, breathing you in. “i missed you today, y/n.” he tries not to pay attention to the way your shirt–his shirt– lifts up and your bare legs and pussy rest on top of his sweatpants.

you tucked your head in the crook of his neck and shoulder and closed your eyes, contentment filling your chest. you pressed a soft kiss to his neck and smiled when his skin erupted with goosebumps.

“i missed you too, hee.”

heeseung kissed your forehead before he began playing again, mumbling soft curses to jake and sunghoon who teased him at his softness. you breathed his scent in, love filling your heart as heeseung kept quiet, only mumbling and whispering in the mic, afraid he’ll hurt your ears if he screams.

as heeseung continued to play, you ran your hands through his hair, playing the hair on the nape of his neck. you kept your eyes shut and pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck and jaw every time his body tensed in frustration. whenever he didn’t need both of his hands on the keyboard, he kept on on your lower back, drumming his fingers against your skin.

you open one eye and peak at the time, sighing softly as you shift a bit of your weight. as you moved, your bare pussy rubbed against heeseung’s bulge and you both quietly sighed, your breath hitching.

heeseung’s quiet ranting came to an end and he squeezed your hip once before he went back to playing his game. you, on the other hand, couldn’t focus on anything but the heat that spread through your body.

you began kissing heeseung’s neck feverishly, sucking on his skin as he shifted below you, rubbing his hardening dick against your cunt. you pressed your hips down and began grinding down on him, unable to control yourself.

“baby,” heeseung murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as you rubbed yourself against him, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants. he muted his mic as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder, lost in the bliss. you were tired and needy and you wanted him so badly. “i’m almost done, i promise.” he tried not to jerk his hips upwards.

you removed one of his headphones from his ear and pressed your lips against the shell of his ear, your breath tickling his skin as he stilled. you pussy was wet and you had gotten all your juices on his sweatpants, not a single care in the world.

“i want you, hee. i need you.” you kissed the skin below his ear and his dick twitched. his fingers slowed and the characters all blurred together at your words. “please.”

heeseung moved his head back and almost threw his keyboard off the table at the look on your face; your plump, bitten lips and wide eyes. he knew that you had been having a bad week and he wanted to make it all go away, but you just needed to be a little patient.

you both stared at each other for a few seconds before he moved his head towards you and kissed your lips softly. you tightened your arms around his neck and pressed your hips down on him, trying to keep his lips on you.

he pulled away and brushed a piece of hair out of your face, kissing your nose softly. “just a little bit more, angel. i can’t leave the game without getting banned so just wait a little, kay?”

you nodded and he smiled at you. “then, i’ll give you everything you want.” his words were low, raspy as his lips hovered yours.

“hyung, where are you? we’re literally dying.” you heard sunghoon’s agitated voice through the headphones.

before he could unmute his mic, you moved your head back and one of your hands trailed from the back of his neck to his throat. you lightly pressed down on his throat as he looked up at you, need burning in your eyes.

“what is it, baby?”

you swallowed and looked away from him, suddenly a bit shy. heeseung spread his legs further and smirked when your eyes widened at the feeling of his dick pressed flush against your pussy. he had a feeling that he knew what you wanted, but he still wanted you to ask.

“take your time,” you said. “but can i… can i sit on it?”

heeseung tilted his head, his mind going numb at the softness of your voice and the dirtiness of your words. he squeezed your hips and moved your hips up and down his legs once before he nodded. this was the least he could give you.

“go ahead, baby. take it out.” he slightly lifted your legs as you eagerly pushed the waistband of his sweatpants down and pulled his semi-hard dick out of his boxers. he hissed when you wrapped your fingers around him and watched as you guided the tip to your soaking pussy.

he watched with heated eyes as you lifted yourself off him, letting your slick coat his dick before you lowered yourself on him. you moaned in his ear as he slid in, stretching you out and filling you up.

“fuck, baby,” heeseung whispered, eyes sewn shut. “you’re sucking me in.”

you fell into his body as the base of his cock hit your core, taking him completely. the feeling of being stretched felt so good and all you could do was tuck your face into the crook of his neck, biting back a sob.

he softly kisses your forehead. “try not to make too much noise, okay?” he unmuted his mic when you nodded, smiling when your pussy clenched around his cock. he was often the one to ask you to cockwarm him as he played but this time, it was you who asked.

“hey guys,” he greeted, quietly. still mindful of his volume. he grinned when all of the other boys started yelling at him, reprimanding him for leaving when he did.

as heeseung continued to play, you kissed and bit his neck, sucking to soothe his skin. you tried to ignore how wet you were, trying to ignore the mess you were making on him and his chair as you slowly rotated your hips. at the friction, your pussy gushed and heeseung rubbed your back, knuckles turning white as he tried to control himself.

your entire body was on fire and you needed more. his cock stretched you out well but you needed to feel him everywhere; needed him to fill you up and make you cry.

slowly, you started moving. lifting your legs a bit, you began fucking yourself on his cock. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to silence your whines as his long, girthy cock slid in and out of you.

your head fell back onto his chest and you bit his shoulder, holding onto his neck tightly as you used all your strength to ride him. his cock twitches against your sensitive walls and you almost cry out. one of his hands grips your waist protectively, offering help in any way he can.

you moved hastily on his lap, and his hold on your waist helps lift you up and down, guiding you closer to your orgasm. his hand goes to your ass and he grips it, moving his hips with you. once he begins fucking into you, you bite his shoulder harder and dig your nails into his skin, trying not to make a sound.

your thighs begin to shake and your cunt clenches around heeseung’s rock hard cock. he isn’t really paying attention to the game as he fucks his cock into you, loving the sounds your juices as they spilled all over him.

your breathing in his ear becomes erratic and broken and he knows you’re close. he mutes his mic once again and brushes his lips against your ear. “go ahead and cum, pretty baby. you’re doing so well.”

his words were enough to push you over and your eyes flutter shut as he thrusts into you, his hips meeting yours forcefully as his tip hits just the right spot. your vision blurs as you moan out his name. your body stills as your pussy starts to uncontrollably flutter around his dick and your cries consist of his name and his soft grunts of praise.

your release washes over you and you fall against his body, whines leaving your mouth as he continues to slowly thrust into you, making your ride out your orgasm as he cums inside you, filling you up. his cum is warm as it mixes with yours and he throws his head back as you begin to suck on his adam’s apple, eyes teary at the overstimulation.

“fuck, baby,” he whispers. he continues slowly thrusting into you, ignoring the slight pain in his cock. the need to pump his cum back into you is stronger than anything, and that’s why he unmutes his mic. “sorry guys, i’m leaving.” he doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves the game, ignoring the warning that flashes on screen.

he throws his headphones across the room and grips your waist tightly, panting into your shoulder as you both catch your breath. after a moment, heeseung lifts his head and grips your chin, making you look at him.

your eyes are watery and your bottom lip is swollen; but you’re so incredibly beautiful to him. he cups your cheek and smashes his lips against yours, dick twitching in your pussy as you grip onto his shirt tightly, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

tongues and teeth smash together as the sounds of your lips smacking and juices echo through the room. when heeseung pulls away, a string of spit connects your lips and he instantly presses his lips against yours, licking your bottom lip.

“your game?” you ask quietly, eyes on his lips. heeseung smiles dumbly at you, the right corner of his lips curving upwards as his round eyes shine with love.

“how could i focus on my game with your tight pussy clenching around me, baby?” your neck heats at his words and he brushes his nose against yours. “you’re more important than all my games, y/n.” he licks your neck and bites your ear lobe. “all my attention is yours now, baby.”

before you could say anything, heeseung swiftly places his hands under your thighs and lifts you up. you squeal and wrap your arms tightly around his neck and your legs around his waist. his dick is still in your pussy and as he walks to your bed and plops you down on your sapphire sheets.

his body follows yours until your back is on the bed and his knees are in between yours. you stare up at him with such wide, loving eyes that he can’t help but kiss you. the kiss is sloppy and hungry as he slips his tongue into your mouth and caresses every crevice. you pull him flush against you and moan into his mouth when his cock slides out of your pussy, cum dripping out of your cunt.

heeseung pulls away and pulls off his shirt, grinning at the way you stare at his toned chest and broad shoulders. he stares at you as he pulls off his sweatpants, licking his lips when he tosses his boxers somewhere across the room.

you stare at him with intense lust and love in your eyes, arms stretched out as he crawls into them, kissing your forehead. he looks down at you and grabs the edge of your shirt before raising an eyebrow. you nod once and he takes the shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him.

he stares at your naked body below him and his cock twitches. he says nothing when your delicate hands wraps around his shaft, squeezing once. “speaking of games,” heeseung leans down, hand on either side of your head. “should we play one? the love game.” your eyes widen in confusion and he grins.

“i’ll start.” he brings his lips to your eyes and kisses your eyelids. “i love your eyes.”

you open your eyes and smile brightly at him. “really, hee?” he grins at you, teeth on display as he shrugs.

“let me play my favourite game.”

you roll your eyes and bite your tongue, secretly loving this stupid game he had come up with a while ago. you lay there as he kisses your entire face, his soft lips lingering on your cheeks and neck.

“i love your face.”

“thanks,” you tease, pinching his nose. “i’m glad.” he smiles against your skin before he lowers his hips and grinds his hips against yours, his dick pressing against your cunt. you whimper at the feeling and he nips your jaw.

his lips trail down until he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. your back arches and you grab his hair, pulling as he sucks and probes your nipple. one of his hands grabs your other nipple and he pinches it, rubbing the bud when you cry out.

he kisses your breast before he sucks the other nipple, spending the same amount of time just sucking and nibbling. your hands are in his hair and he loves it when you pull the strands a bit harder than usual.

he releases your nipple with a pop and presses an open mouth kiss to your cleavage before looking up at your hazy expression. “i love your tits.”

your hands are still in his hair as his lips trail down your body and he kisses and licks your stomach. as he gets closer to your core, your body heats up. you try to squeeze your thighs together but he’s holding on to them tightly.

“i love your body.”

his nose brushes down your abdomen as he spreads your legs further apart and buries his face in your cunt. you cry out his name and pull at his hair when he licks a harsh stripe of your core, pressing his face closer to your cunt as he licks and sucks new and old juices.

“hee, hee,” you pant. “please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but heeseung seems to know. of course he does, he knows your body and you better than you do.

the sounds of slurping and his lips smacking around your clit made your legs shake as his nose pressed so deliciously against you. “i love how you taste.”

you pull at his hair as he lifts his head, your slick coating the lower half of his face. you stare at him with half-lidded eyes as he licks his lips and coats his ring finger in your juices before licking his fingers clean, staring intently at you.

you moan at the sight and he simply stares at you as he sensually sucks your slick off his fingers.

“i love how wet you are, how wet i can make you.”

“heeseung,” you whisper. it’s too much. he’s too much. your legs feel weak and your sweaty but you need him in you again.

he smiles at you and he looks like the devil; with his hair all unruly and his eyes wide with lust but a soft precious smile on his sinful lips. he kisses your inner thighs before kissing up your body. when he reaches your collar bones, he bites your neck softly.

“i said i’d give you everything you wanted.” his lips hover yours and you tilted your head up, trying to capture his lips, but he lifts his head. “so, tell me. what do you want?”

you sigh and throw your head back on the bed, heaving. your entire body was on fire and your orgasm was on the brink of release. all you needed was him.

at your wide eyes and pout, heeseung kissed you and gently cupped your cheek. he rubbed your cheek gently before brushing his nose against yours. “tell me, baby. what do you need right now?”

“you,” you whispered. “need you to fuck me again, hee. please.” you sounded so pretty, so polite as you asked him to fuck you.

heeseung had no choice but to comply. instead of teasing you, knowing you couldn’t handle it, he simply kissed your cheek. “good girl, asking so well.”

you shut your eyes as he lined himself against your entrance, using your slick to wet his cock. he spread your thighs further apart and watched intently as he pushed his head in, smiling at the way your cunt sucked him in. “i love how well you take me, baby.”

slowly, he pushed the rest of his dick inside you and whimpered at the feeling of your warm gummy walls clenching around him. “i love how tight you are,” he whispered.

“fuck,” you breathe quietly as his cock slides so easily into you, filling you up once again. your breathing staggers and you try your best to keep your eyes open.

heeseung grits his teeth together as his eyebrows furrow. he wants to slam into you, make you cry out, but he wants this to be about you. he tries to steady himself and slowly rocks his hips against yours, loving how soft and warm you feel wrapped around him.

your whines and moans get louder as heeseung’s pace quickens, unable to help himself. your perked nipples rub against his chest and your eyes water at the sensitivity of it all.

“you’re filling me up so well, hee.” you ramble, nails digging into his back. “i love it so much.”

heeseung leans his head down and presses his lips harshly against yours, swallowing your moans and breathy words. “i love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips. when he pulls away, both of your lips are wet and swollen.

he rests his forehead against yours as he slams into you. “listen to how wet you are, baby. you feel so good.”

“feels good,” you agree, mind hazy with pleasure. the bed shakes from under you as your sticky bodies press against each other.

“yeah?” he licks the skin beneath your ear. “feels good? like how i fuck you, baby? how my cock stretches you out?”

you can only nod eagerly, knowing he understands exactly how you’re feeling. and he does, he knows exactly how you’re feeling because he can feel it. the way your pussy is sucking him in, making it harder to slide out, the way your nails are digging into this back.

he presses his hand on your lower stomach, grinning wickedly as he feels his cock deep within you. at the pressure, you cry out and grip his wrist. you look up at him with watery eyes and he fucks you harder, tearing through your body.

“so–so close,” you whisper, tasting your climax on your tongue. “hee.”

heeseung cooes at you and kisses your nose as he pounds into you and your whines turn into sobs as your orgasm washes over you, making your head fuzzy as your legs shake. he continues to fuck you, the squelching sounds only enticing him.

“that’s it, baby,” he praises you. “cum for me like a good girl.” his voice is in your ear, low and inviting. .

heeseung prolongs your climax as he fucks you, making you ride it out completely. you can’t handle anymore and you grip onto his shoulders, eyes wide. “cum inside me, hee. please. i need it.”

at your words, he grunts and smashes your lips together, pounding into you as he reaches his climax. his hips stutter as he releases his cum inside of you. his body is practically covering yours as his warm cum fills you up, once again mixing with yours. “i love you,” he whispers. “i love you, i love you. i love you.”

he continues to rock his hips against yours as he cums, making sure every last drop is in your pussy. you wrap your arms tightly around his neck as you kiss him, tongues and teeth against the others.

“i love you,” you mutter against his lips. your foreheads are pressed together and he pants into your mouth, his dick slowly softening inside you.

“i love you more than all my games.”

at his words, your eyes shoot open and he grins softly at you, bashful and full of adoration. you stare at him before kissing his cheek.

“i know.”

a/n: okay this is my gift to you as i actually disappear for a while because i really do need to study :/

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 7 months ago

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Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

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skipblebee · 24 days ago

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It's another sunny day at Cang Qiong mountain sect. Shang Qinghua has just delivered a bunch of writing materials to Qing Jing as requested by Peak Lord Shen. On his way back one of the disciples stops him and he recognises her to be Ning Yingying, one of the peak lord's favoured disciples. "Shishu," she smiles at him "Shizun is playing songs for us on his guqin! Would you like to stay and listen?"

Shang Qinghua weighs his options and figures he might as well rest his legs, he's got a lot to do once he's back at An Ding Peak and hey!! He might as well get a treat for his delivery!! It was literally a last minute thing that wasn't even FILED for properly but whatever, he thinks, it's not everyday someone would get an invitation to listen to Shen Qingqiu playing his guqin! And from one of his favourite disciples? Oh he's in luck, this is like getting front row tickets to your favourite band!!

So Shang Qinghua makes his way towards a garden close to the disciples' music room, where a bunch of eager students listen to their shizun's wonderful playing. He really is as talented as they say,, nimble fingers gently plucking at each string. You can feel the love and emotion he has for each song pour into how he plays it.

Shang Qinghua leans against a tree as Ning Yingying makes her way to sit next to Luo Binghe, right in front of the crowd, and he can't help but smile at the sight of them. Shen Qingqiu plays a melody that the other peak lord had heard once or twice. Some song about falling in love in spring.

His head sways to the relaxing tune, and he closes his eyes. The cool breeze causes the tree branches to sway, the sound only adding to the charm of the evening.

The song eventually reaches a crescendo. Shang Qinghua, Peak Lord of An Ding, for a moment forgets about his harsh sect sibling and internally praises his skills! For someone as mean and snarky as him, he can play as gentle as the spring breeze itself!

It is when the crescendo of the song is reached that Shang Qinghua's life changes forever. It was just a small detail, and none of the students noticed of course, because none of them were from the 21st century.

But just as the song reached an emotional height, there it was, absolutely unmistakable, a riff he would recognise anywhere, even if years into his new life.

The unmistakable riff of Buddy Holly by Weezer.

His eyes fly open and he nearly stumbles off the tree he was leaning against and onto the ground below.

WEEZER???? Buddy HOLLY???? He was almost certain he made it up, his mind was certainly playing tricks on him!! An auditory hallucinations of sorts maybe!

He looked up at the other peak lord's face, as tranquil as a gentle stream itself! He had blended it into the song so well that it almost sounded like it was a part of the original!!

"P-Pardon me!" He whispers to no one in particular "I should be getting back to my peak now! It's getting pretty late! Thanking the esteemed peak lord for helping me listen to his lovely playing! If he even is a peak lord,,,"

"Shizun!" He hears the disciples pour out their praise once he's done with the song "Shizun's embellishments to the song made it even better than it usually sounds!" The echoes of flattery follow his ears until he's finally out of sight.

He scurries out of there, no one really noticing his absence, and damn near trips and rolls down the entire length of the mountain with all the adrenaline coursing through him. 'Oh my gosh another transmigrator??' his inner monolgue screams 'are we sure I didn't make that up??? System oh my lord ARE YOU THERE??? SYSTEM ??? AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO TELL ME IF THERE'S ANOTHER TRANSMIGRATOR HERE?? I THOUGHT I HAD AUTHOR'S PRIVILEGE????? Oh my, maybe that's why people say he's been acting different lately,,, I really have to see for myself sometime. I haven't really interacted with him since the qi deviation..."

Needless to say, the other disciples at Qing Jing weren't phased by the An Ding peak lord mumbling to himself as he scurried down the path, it was a usual occurence anyway. Shang Qinghua on the other hand had a lot to think of once he returned to his peak,,,, this would certainly be,, very interesting,,,,

#the REAL transmigrator reveal #Wrote this at 12am #sleep deprived listening to weezee #I haven't written in actual years I'm sorry if it's not the greatest #Kinda just wrote whatever #i 💖 crackfics #cumplane #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shang qinghua #svsss fic #gonna be honest y'all I have no idea how to tag this #beethoughts #crack fic #scum villian self saving system #the scum villain's self saving system

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eggtargaryenii · 3 months ago

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EAST OF THE SUN | PART IV

“Aemond has always been very jealous over you," Jace said doubtfully. "And protective.” “Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him.” “Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look.

7k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

XII. FIVE OF SWORDS

You did not really know what to think of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

On a political level, you did not think highly of her. Once you were old enough to understand your role in court—that is, a womb to be eventually traded in return for gold or swords or support—you became confused with Rhaenyra’s behaviour. She married Ser Laenor Velaryon and then immediately began to fornicate with another man, which was fine. But it was strange that she chose a man with fair skin and dark hair for her paramour, rather than someone who looked more like Ser Laenor, and it jeopardised her standing in court. It felt silly to you, and was one of the reasons why, at the tender age of ten, you vowed to marry a handsome lord who was inclined to desire women: if you were too busy being happily bedded by your husband, then you would not have the time or wherewithal to lay with another man and give birth to any bastards. (Certainly, you would not be interested in having any affairs if Cregan Stark was your lawful husband.)

On a personal level, you misliked Rhaenyra. You had never forgiven her for Aemond’s eye. As a child you had been furious at turns with Jace, Luke, and Aemond for the debacle, but as an adult you could not fault three children for an accident. What you did fault was Rhaenyra’s actions following it: treating Aemond’s eye like it was an afterthought to the bastardy talk, as if her son had not just irreversibly rendered him half-blind. As if Aemond did not lay feverish in bed for weeks after, as if he did not need to spend months retraining his body to his altered vision, as if he were not twice as vulnerable to attacks from bullies and swords and morningstars. As if he did not need to live with the knowledge that his very body was a disposable thing to his father, something that could be overlooked so long as Rhaenyra’s claim could be protected.

No—you did not like Rhaenyra.

You were certain that Rhaenyra did not feel so poorly about you, however. She never concerned herself with you when you were a child, and you did not fault her for it: you were not close in age, and she was heir apparent to the throne. She mostly knew you as someone whom Jace had befriended, and she liked you for it. Occasionally she would invite you to dinner with them in the Small Hall, or let you break your fast with her family. Sometimes she would talk with you then, and humour your questions about the Small Council (Do they know where my father is? Will they banish me from the Red Keep? Is the Hand really going to betrothe me to an old man?), and sometimes she would look at you with something close to pity.

Rhaenyra probably did think well of you. Still, it felt like an obvious lie when she called you into her chambers the day after your father’s funeral and said, “You know I have always been very fond of you.”

“Thank you, Princess,” you said graciously, immediately. “I have always been so grateful for your kindness, and especially for allowing me to spend time with Jacaerys.”

She smiled at you. You returned it, careful not to let the wariness show in your eyes.

“It was the least I could do. I owed it to your father—he was very kind to me. He would sail back from Lys and bring me trinkets, and I loved them so. I do not think Prince Daemon liked the attention he gave me, however.”

You shuddered to think of the suggestion of romantic jealousy between Daemon, your father, and Rhaenyra. You truly would walk into the sea if she disclosed a sordid relationship between herself and your father right now.

Outwardly, however, you only gave her a sentimental look. “I had never known that. Were the two of you close?”

“He was often away from King’s Landing, so I knew him not well—but I knew him well enough. And my husband, of course, was fond of him.” She smiled. “Now that your father is gone, Daemon and I feel that it is only right that we care for you.”

You did not comment on the fact that your father had been gone for nearly ten years already. “Oh,” you said, your eyes growing hot as you remembered to cry. The tears were easy to summon and mostly from frustration at knowing that your father’s death was being used in these petty games of court, but Rhaenyra need not know that. “That's—that’s very kind of you.”

“I know Jacaerys is very fond of you too,” she continued. “If you need to continue leaning on him, know that I will be happy to see it.”

“Of course.” You wiped your eyes. “I am ever so thankful for his help during my petition. And your husband’s too. It is a kindness I cannot repay.”

“As I said, it is only right.” Rhaenyra gave you a long look, then seemed to make a decision. She reached for something on the table beside her, then placed a velvet box in front of you. “Please—take this.”

Your look of surprise was genuine when you opened it. Inside was a pair of earrings—from the rippling sheen of the reflected light, Valyrian steel, so dark that it was nearly black. Rubies glimmered among the delicate metalwork, a bold red. You knew only of one person who had ever worn jewellery like this: “My mother’s?”

“Not quite, but close. Your father brought it back from one of his trips to Lys and gifted these to me, but I have not had much chance to wear them as of late—they are a young person’s jewels.” She gave you a look that was distinctly motherly, which made you feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I feel that it is only right that these go to you, rather than being wasted on my vanity.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Thank you, Princess.”

You had a feeling where she would be going with this.

“It would be a great honour to me,” she said, “if you were to wear these at the upcoming feast.”

It was with great effort that you did not sigh.

“Of course, Princess.”

XIII. TWO OF SWORDS

There was nothing less you wanted to do than to attend the banquet meant to precede the next day’s tourney. This reluctance had less to do with the loss of your parents (though that was undeniably a factor; you were still looking forward to the day you could crawl into the dragon pit and wail in solitude) and more to do with the dread of navigating the court. Within the Red Keep, wearing the wrong colour dress to sup alone could earn you the ire of half the castle; choosing the wrong one for this banquet could quite literally kill you.

Alicent expected you to wear green, as would the Tyrells. Rhaenyra expected you to wear her earrings, which were obviously meant to be paired with black and red. It would insult one faction or the other if you did not respect their wishes, but at this point, you also had no desire to align yourself with either. Rhaenyra had not convinced you of her cause, and if you played too nicely with the Hightowers now then they would take that as a sign that they could further abuse you as they pleased in the future.

On the other hand, you did not want to offend anyone too much. Cultivating a relationship with the blacks might be useful in the future, though your greatest concern was the Hightowers—neither your coin in Braavos nor the power of your dragon could save you if the Hand decided to poison you. That could be a very real risk as you currently had no heir. Should you be killed, the money in the Iron Bank would fall to your next of kin: King Viserys on paper; Alicent Hightower in practice.

No, you could not openly antagonise the Hightowers. However, appalling them? Probably fine. Alicent already found you appalling on a daily basis, and the Hand made it no secret that he was happy to write you off as the daughter of a foreign bed slave whenever it was convenient. You were sick of it. If they were going to accuse you of being a whore, then let them suffer the shame of having raised one.

When you walked through the heavy oak doors into the Great Hall, a hush fell over all the lords and ladies present. A few noblewomen covered their open mouths with their hands, emphasising their shock and disapproval. It was already difficult not to laugh at them, but you almost barked when you saw Jace’s reaction to what you were wearing: he very clearly choked on his wine and nearly spat it out. The sudden flush on cheeks probably was not from the Arbor gold, either. You winked at him, hoping Alicent would notice.

Rhaenyra, sitting next to him, seemed amused at the Queen’s own scandalised expression. Of all the King’s party present, you greeted her first, curtsying as best as you could in your delicate, green silks. Lysene clothing was really not made for Westerosi customs, you thought; there was not a lot of material around your waist to lift, as most of it was cut to reveal your thighs, and the view it gave of your décolletage as you bowed the was… well, it did not leave much to the imagination. Nor did any other part of the dress. The silk was so sheer that it revealed far too much when the light struck it a certain way.

“What an interesting choice of dress,” Rhaenyra remarked, the corner of her mouth lifting. Her gaze caught on the rubies dangling from your ears; you smiled.

“I chose to wear Lysene silks today to match the earrings you gifted me, Princess,” you said. “The dress was from my mother’s old wardrobe. The colour clashes a bit with the red, but it was all I had on hand, I'm afraid.”

“I’m sure.” She seemed neither convinced or upset. “Well, both the earrings and the dress look beautiful on you, my dear. Wouldn't you say so, Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys composed himself quickly enough, but you noticed that he was careful to look only at your face as he spoke. Still, he composure had returned when he replied, “You look very lovely tonight, my lady. I shall need to ask you for a dance later.”

“I look forward to it. Come find me when it pleases you, my prince.” You curtsied again, turned away, and tried not to cackle at the expression that Jace made when he realised just how much leg your dress showed. You were fairly certain that Rhaenyra was herself trying not to laugh at her son's expense, smiling into her goblet as she watched his reaction.

Alicent, on the other hand, did not seem nearly so amused.

“You… Lyseni,” she said, managing to make a very neutral word sound incredibly pejorative, “have very unusual styles of dress.”

“I would not know. Having been born in King’s Landing, I am unfamiliar with Lysene styles as a whole, my Queen,” you replied calmly. “This dress is from my mother’s old wardrobe. It was the only green dress I owned—you know I do not wear the colour much.”

“I would have been happy to have had a dress made for you,” she said, voice tight. “You are our kin, after all. We are happy to ensure that members of the royal family dress as royals should.”

“I did not want to burden the Crown’s coffers, as I know they are limited,” you parried, and Alicent’s expression nearly put you in stitches. “Is my betrothed here tonight, my Queen? I should like to finally meet him, if he is.”

Part of you had hoped that this outfit would disgrace you too much for an introduction to the great house of the Reach. You were even hopeful for it when Alicent advised her father that you were not dressed suitably for a formal introduction, but the Hand insisted on it. In the end, Alicent had you meet Lady Tyrell at the behest of her father.

Lady Tyrell seemed an interesting woman. She served as the regent of Hightower given her son Lord Lyonel’s young age. Apparently significantly less pious than the Queen, Lady Tyrell took your appearance in stride.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she said after a curtsy. “I saw your petition in the throne room a sennight ago, and I could not help but ask for an introduction after that… you are a very eloquent speaker. I am sorry to hear about your father, by the way. I recall it was said he was a diplomat in Lys and that your mother was a woman of the Lysene court—is this dress something of hers?”

Woman of the Lysene court. You liked the way Lady Tyrell talked, as well as her values: apparently irreligious. You wondered what she and her house wanted from you. If she saw you during the petition, it was most likely all the gold you were arguing over. Highgarden was not short of wealth, but they always wanted more for it.

“It was indeed left behind by my mother before she returned to Lys,” you replied. “And I thank you for your kind words. Everything I know, I have learned from the Queen—she took my education into her own hands after my father passed, you see…”

The two of you exchanged pleasantries with one another. You painted an image of Alicent that had her in the golden light of the Seven and wearing a halo; the Queen’s posture relaxed visibly as she listened from nearby. When it came time for you to meet Arthur Tyrell, though, you noticed her stiffen again.

Ser Criston next to her also bristled. His eyes were heavy on Ser Arthur. He was startlingly handsome with his Tyrell features (though not as handsome as any Stark men, you noted), with a full head of mahogany curls and honey brown eyes that nearly shone gold at times in the chandelier light. He had a charming, playful smile that you did not see very much in your circles. Jace was too serious to make that sort of expression, Aemond too frightening, and Aegon too slovenly.

Most importantly, though, Arthur seemed not to mind your dress, taking you without hesitation to the dance floor.

“I was not told my betrothed would be so beautiful,” he said.

“And I was not told mine would be so handsome,” you replied swiftly, deciding to humour him. Then you added, wanting to know why Ser Criston seemed so disdainful of him, “Though I have heard tales of his bravery in the Marches.”

“Exaggerations, I'm sure,” he replied.

“Then I would like to hear the truth of it from the man himself.”

Arthur was humble, yet glib of tongue. He replied to all your questions respectfully, but not without a little flirtation or humour, and always with charisma. You found yourself frustrated: you could not tell how such a charming and well-accomplished man had earned the ire of Ser Criston. His only damning trait seemed to be that he was a bastard, which you could not care less about.

It seemed that you could only get the truth from the white cloak himself. When you were nearly about to signal for Ser Criston to ask you for a dance—the two of you had such a protocol, for times when you were made to dance with some lecher and Aemond was not around to extract you—when the one-eyed prince himself instead came to your aid.

“Pardon the interruption, Ser Arthur,” a familiar voice said behind you, “but I would like to trouble my cousin for a dance.”

“Of course, my Prince,” the knight replied, and he handed you off to Aemond gracefully. Once you were in Aemond’s arms, he nodded at Ser Arthur, his mouth curling into a kind of smile. You could not decide if his expression was handsome or unsettling. Certainly, it was not friendly.

“You do not like him,” you said in Valyrian, as Aemond led your feet across the marble floor.

He brought you close to him before he replied, in the same language, “I do not like him being around you. I spoke with Ser Criston and found his background… troubling.” Aemond had you twirling, the sheer silks around your waist swaying with your movements. “The knowledge makes me worry about the way he was looking at you.”

Your brow arched. “He looks at me the way that most men have looked at me my entire life.”

“I do not like it when most men look at you.”

A laugh. “So many japes from you lately!” The two of you circled one another as a lute sung delicately. “Well, why do you dislike the gaze of this man? Tell me about the crimes of my betrothed—I shall soon die from suspense if you do not.”

Aemond brought you close. Your hand on his chest, his lips against your ear, he said, “The man raped and pillaged towns in the Dornish Marches. Some of the worst crimes Ser Criston has ever seen in battle—an offence to the Seven, he said.”

Your expression fell. Aemond led you along in the dance, not allowing you to stop—likely remembering the watching crowd. He kept his face so near to yours; it took a moment to realise he was hiding the shock in your eyes from the gazes of others.

After a long moment, you remembered yourself, and you began to think of all the implications. It now made sense that Lady Tyrell did not care about your choice of dress: it was fine that you were a harlot, as she meant to marry you to a raper. What confused you, though, was that Queen Alicent had so readily agreed to the match as well: she may have disapproved of whores, but she openly despised rapers and felt they should all be gelded, just as the Seven-Pointed Star commanded.

“Does your grandsire know?” you asked, moving deftly around your partner. “Your mother?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Aemond said, “but I suspect they do.”

You nodded, tried not to look too grave as you said, “I will find a way out of this marriage.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Tyrells watching the two of you. You pressed yourself against Aemond, likely more intimately than any dance would warrant, so that you could whisper into his ear. “Were you serious about finding a means to avoid my betrothal?”

“Not only serious—I have already planned it.” Aemond smiled in his unsettling, handsome way once more. “Play along in the morrow. Remember: Any consequences will not befall you.”

What consequences? you meant to ask—but then you were interrupted.

“Pardon me,” a new voice said in the Common Tongue, and the both of you broke apart to see Jacaerys. “I wanted to make good on my promise to dance with my cousin.”

It was a command, not a request. Aemond studied him for a moment, and you wondered for a moment if they would begin to posture with each other, but he then acquiesced.

“Of course, nephew,” Aemond replied. He then switched to Valyrian: “Take care not to pass her off to any untoward characters. I'd rather her stay even in your hands than certain others. Bring her to me once you are done.”

Your cousin gave you a long look, his single eye glinting strangely. He brought your fingers up, and you did not realise what he was doing until his lips were pressed chastely against your knuckle. You stared blankly at the foreign sensation, at the soft touch of his mouth against your skin, unable to comprehend what was happening. But the realisation came only a moment later, suddenly and violently:

Aemond Targaryen was kissing your hand.

You nearly jerked back. What are you doing? you wanted to ask, but Aemond did not give you much time before turning to leave, smiling as he retreated to the high table.

You gave him a bewildered look as he disappeared into the crowd. Jacaerys, himself, seemed equally surprised. As he took your hand into his, he began questioning you: “Did I misunderstand,” he asked quietly in the Common Tongue, “or did my uncle just entrust you to me?”

Your speech remained in Valyrian: “You understood correctly, though you may have missed the backhanded insult. I believe he doesn't want me back in the arms of my betrothed. Aemond and Ser Criston mislike the man.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Or, well—it is more like they abhor him.” You were uncertain if Jace knew the words for ‘rape’ or ‘pillage’ in Valyrian, so you adopted the Common Tongue once more, smiling brightly: “Nevermind all of that. We can talk later, when we are somewhere more… private.”

Multiple eyes glanced away, eavesdroppers averting you now that they'd been caught. You figured that those around you thought you were speaking of the kiss, and not of the reputation of Ser Arthur. Certainly, Queen Alicent must have, for her jaw was so tight and angry that she could have only been thinking of her son’s open favour toward you, or perhaps the betrothal that he just put into jeopardy. You supposed it was also a particularly sordid sight for her given the new whispers surrounding you: Jacaerys was said to have carried you back to your room in the early hours of the morning a few days ago. To anyone who believed the rumour, it must have looked to some like you were seducing both princes, their hearts in your cruel thrall even though you were now betrothed to a Tyrell. Luckily for you, however, the whisper had come from a kitchen maid who was a reputed liar: even though it was true, most were sceptical of the tale.

Alicent likely believed them, though, for she had given you a long lecture about preserving your innocence for your betrothed during your last meeting, followed up by an implication that there were ways in which one could feign virginity on a marriage bed should they have fallen into sin before their wedding night. She alluded to the old trick of staining one’s sheets with chicken’s blood while their groom was distracted. Though you were not offended at her belief that you had ruined yourself, you were offended at her belief that you would be stupid enough to jeopardise a marriage in this way. Using chicken’s blood was good enough for commoners, but it hardly worked for noblewomen. Septas and maesters would not be fooled by such a lazy deception, and you were both well-aware of it.

Thinking of the conversation made your head pound, so you turned to your only solace at a time like this: “Would you like to sit and have some wine, Jace? I have not yet tried the Arbor gold.”

“Of course.” Jace took your hand in his, led you to the high table at the front of the hall. A maid promptly approached with goblets and wine, which you were glad to drink, hoping for the sweet oblivion of complete inebriation. Jace’s brow lifted as he watched you.

“I did not know that you had grown into such a drinker.”

“Only during banquets,” you said dryly. “I find that I cannot otherwise endure them.”

“How ironic,” Jace remarked. “This is my first in the Red Keep, and I find myself envying you for having attended so many.”

You were startled as you realised that the Crown Prince, of all people, had neither attended a tourney nor a banquet in King’s Landing solely because of the petty infighting in his family. “Sorry,” you said immediately. “I’d forgotten this was your first feast here. I’ll try to be better company.”

“You are always good company,” Jace reassured you, “though I would enjoy a proper dance with you later. We’ve never danced together before, you know—I meant it when I said I would want one.” He smiled, and you felt your stomach flutter in a dangerous way.

Crown prince, crown prince, crown prince, you repeated silently, trying to remind yourself that you could absolutely not become besotted with the heir to the throne. If Jacaerys were to be the object of your longing (a futile one, for it was an impossibility that you could ever marry him), then you would never find a lord for yourself whom you could be happily bedded by. There was not a single noble man in the Realm who had a face that could compete with his—not even Cregan Stark!

“I'm not a very good dancer,” you remembered to reply. “I may step on your feet.”

“You seemed fine with my uncle.”

“Only because he's strong at leading. It isn’t unlike swordplay, which he excels at.” You sighed. “It is a wonder that I did not embarrass myself in front of Ser Arthur.”

Jace gave the Tyrell a sidelong glance, contemplative. “I have heard from the Queen that he is now your betrothed,” your cousin said, “which I imagine must make my uncle unhappy, as he clearly wants to bed you.”

You gave Jace a tired look. “Many people believe that I am Aemond’s lover, but I can assure you that the assertion is false.”

“That kiss did lead me to believe that he would prefer it to be true.”

“I would not pay it any mind. A kiss on the hand is a simple enough courtesy, not necessarily a sign of courtship. And even if it was unusual for him, he is likely only plotting something.” Something that the Queen will hate as much as the Tyrells, you supposed.

“Plotting something, or acting on a lifelong desire?” He studied you carefully. “Aemond has always been very jealous over you. And protective.”

“Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him; it was the role I played to him when we were children.”

“Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look. “What? Sibling marriage is the custom of our family.”

“I meant that he thinks of me as a sister in the Andal way.”

“Yet none of us are Andals—including yourself, dear cousin. You are a Targaryen.”

Your mood soured as he reminded you of the fact. You could not help but think of how eager you were to run away from that Small Council room a fortnight ago, so aggrieved were you by your kin.

“Can you ask your lady mother to disown me from the family?” you begged, and Jace snorted.

“Only you would reject the life of a trueborn Targaryen,” he said, shaking his head. He likely meant it as a jape, but the words had a bitter timbre to them, and you felt torn between guilt and resentment. Trueborn or not, Jacaerys had a number of people protecting his place in this family—yourself included. The same could not be said of you.

“My trueborn family rejected my mother. I may as well be a bastard.”

“Every bastard still wants for a family.”

“A family, sure, but I imagine not always their family by blood. Most of them do well enough. I feel I would.”

“You wouldn't really want to leave it all behind,” he accused.

“No,” you admitted. “I thought briefly of running away, after I was told of my father's death. But now there are people here I care for too much. Like Aemond, or Wildfyre.”

“And?” Jace prompted.

“I suppose I like Luke well enough.”

“How cold.”

You smiled at the prickly look he feigned. “I would miss you terribly, Jace. But I tire easily of all the politicking in these walls.” You sighed heavily. “If she cannot disown me, could you ask Princess Rhaenyra to marry me off to someplace far from King’s Landing? And not to any Targaryen men, please.”

“I have little say in such matters, but if you'll take a Velaryon, I could get you as far as Dragonstone.”

Aemond was nearby, clearly listening, and you realised now that Jace must have noticed. You smiled at your dark-haired cousin, amused.

“A tempting offer,” you replied playfully, “but you’d become a Targaryen once you ascend the throne, and I'd also be back here once more when that happens. I'm afraid I'll need to decline.”

Jacaerys played at disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.” He picked up his own goblet from the table, took a draught. “There’s always the King Beyond the Wall. Is that far enough for you?”

“I would rather face the Others than Otto Hightower,” you said dryly. “Certainly, I would fear them less.”

You expected Jace to laugh, but he only studied you, as if curious. After a moment of consideration, he leaned in and asked, “Would you care to step outside with me, my lady? For some fresh air.”

Fresh air was clearly not what he wanted. Nevertheless, you agreed and allowed Jace to help you out of your seat. As you rose, you glanced at Aemond, worried for his reaction, but his attention was not on you. He was speaking with Ser Arthur, you realised, who did not seem pleased by whatever Aemond was saying. Your brow furrowed, and you wondered if you should intervene, but Aemond glanced at you then, the corner of his mouth hooked slyly, his gaze as unsettling as it was reassuring.

Play along in the morrow, Aemond had told you, so you decided whatever he was planning was not your business tonight. You turned on your heel and took Jace by the arm, hurrying away.

IX. SEVEN OF CUPS

The night was cool and quiet, but you knew that it was not empty. You were certain that there would be many curious about why the Crown Prince would want to step outside and close the doors to the Great Hall behind him, obviously seeking privacy. Guards were posted in the courtyard below despite being within the inner castle walls; the balcony above you was silent when there should have been chatter and music from the banquet drifting from its threshold. Someone had stepped outside and closed the doors to escape the noise—meaning they could now listen to you rather than the noise of the feast.

You had long ago noticed that some of the sordid rumours about you involved your moments when you believed you were utterly alone with another person, or when you moved through supposedly empty halls and corners of the castle. From this, you suspected that there were eyes and ears placed all throughout the Red Keep. When you brought this up to Aemond (talking quietly in the dragon pit, where Wildfyre and the many other dragons ensured that you were both alone), he outright confirmed it. Larys Strong is quite adept at collecting whispers, he had commented. The Queen often consults him on them. King Viserys, though, has never paid him any mind—he does not see the value in knowing the whispers of King’s Landing.

When you asked Aemond how he had collected such whispers, he merely smiled.

After this conversation, you quickly surmised that all adept players at court had eyes and ears to aid them. You had not realised how much you had taken this knowledge for granted until Jacaerys disclosed that he had wanted to step onto the balcony to get some privacy.

“Privacy?” You made a face. Dragonstone had evidently spoiled the man. “This is not a private place. I do hope you aren't planning on saying or doing anything that may be seen as untoward. The Queen already believes that you have taken me abed and thoroughly ruined my innocence.”

Jacaerys cleared his throat. Moonlight tended to wash out the colour from anything illuminated by it, but you suspected he had gone red. “I will say nothing that will fuel those rumours. I only wanted privacy from my uncle, lest he be offended by my suggestion.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Is someone truly listening?”

“You’re within the walls of the Red Keep. Someone is always listening, except for in a scarce few places. I can show you some other time where I like to go for real privacy.” You tilted your head. “But let's hear your suggestion. I am curious to know what would offend Aemond so.”

“The Hightowers,” Jace started, “have mistreated you these past few days. You japed about it just now, but the Hand and the Queen have sche—”

You placed a finger to his lips, and his eyes widened, startled. He swallowed thickly, only relaxing when you moved your hand away. You then smiled and finished for him: “Yes, the Hand and the Queen upset me during my petition. But it is well-known that they always have the best interests of the Realm at heart—it is clear they were only acting for the benefit of the Seven Kingdoms when they contested my inheritance.” Giving Jace a meaningful look, you asked, “What of it?”

Jacaerys caught on quickly, thank the Seven. “It is understandable that they have the best interests of the Realm at heart, but I keep the best interests of yours in mine. I was not entirely jesting in the Great Hall: I would take you away from the Red Keep, if you so wished.”

You stared. “Take me away?”

“To Dragonstone,” he offered plainly. “Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon would happily host you for as long as you desired. I would be there to keep you company during your stay, as would Luke.”

“Ah. Do they want to take me as their ward?” It was unsurprising, you thought. They likely wanted your inheritance. But you played the fool: “Or do they need a dragonrider? I know Lord Velaryon has trouble with pirates every now and then. It would be sensible for Prince Daemon to solicit my help as they are allies, I suppose.”

“They aren't inviting you. I am.” You blinked at him, obviously uncomprehending, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “You could see the castle,” he began slowly. “Visit the beaches. Fly to Braavos to oversee your wealth, and I would accompany you if you liked. Vermax would be happy for it—I do believe he misses you.”

It was hard to believe in the generosity of the offer, though you knew generosity was in Jace’s nature when it came to you. Still, you needed to confirm it: “You want me to come to Dragonstone… for leisure?”

“If leisure is what you want, then yes. If for some reason you wish to labour, though, I am sure there is plenty to be done.” He smiled. “You could teach me Valyrian, to start.”

There was really nothing in the world that sounded more appealing than living in a darkly beautiful castle by the sea and tutoring a gorgeous prince who wished to take you to Braavos. Certainly, it would be the fantasy of any other maiden.

Still, you hesitated. “I am unsure if this is wise…”

Jacaerys leaned in then. “You've always wanted to get away from the Hightowers,” he said quietly, “even when we were children. Now is your chance.”

You raised a brow, wondering how you let that slip to anyone other than Aemond. “Did I tell you that?”

“You quite literally told me to rescue you from them.”

“Did I?” you asked, perplexed. But you recalled it a moment after: when Princess Rhaenyra was sent to Dragonstone and Jacaerys was downtrodden about parting from you. He had just lost Ser Harwin, so you’d felt poorly for him—had Aemond not been so feverishly ill from the loss of his eye, you might have actually asked Rhaenyra to host you so that you could stay with Jace a while. It made your heart ache that you couldn't be with him, especially since you knew what it felt like to see your father leave your home and then never return. So of course, you promised Jace that you would someday be reunited, and that you would stay by his side then.

You hadn't thought about those words in years.

“Oh,” you murmured, oddly touched, “yes, I suppose I did say that, didn��t I? I thought you would have forgotten about it by now.”

He gave you an expression that you couldn't quite decipher. “Of course I remembered,” he said earnestly. “You asked me to take you away—so let me.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment as you considered the offer. You heard the scrape of soles against brick on the balcony above you, the clink of knights’ armour below. All the eyes and ears of the Red Keep pressed upon you, and it made your heart pound.

“I can't,” you spoke carefully. You leaned forward—close enough to murmur into his ear. “The Queen has already arranged for the Tyrells to take me as a ward. If your mother were to take me on instead, then it would put both her and the Queen in an uncomfortable position. The Tyrells would be offended by them both. I do not think Princess Rhaenyra would want to malign a great house.” And I do not wish to know what Otto Hightower would do to me if I put Queen Alicent in such a sensitive position, you left unsaid.

You could see, in Jace’s eyes, his understanding, acceptance, and eventual disappointment in the reality of your situation.

“It would be wiser for you to stay,” he finally agreed, “but do know that if either Highgarden or the Red Keep become unbearable, there will always be a place on Dragonstone for you.”

You peered beyond the balcony, into the dark night where you imagined many eyes watching you. From the way Lady Tyrell had talked to you, you could tell that Highgarden would likely not be too different from the Red Keep—full of silver-tongued flatterers, keen whisperers, and elaborate schemes. It was exactly the kind of politicking that made you so eager to get away from King’s Landing—the kind of politicking that you would find anywhere there were those who thirsted for power.

And few people in the Realm desired power more than Rhaenyra.

“It is generous of the blacks to offer this,” you said finally. “If I could follow you to Dragonstone, then I would.”

“It is not the blacks who offer it,” Jacaerys replied. “I meant it when I said that I was inviting you. I only wish to offer you a place in which you are safe. If you ever find yourself wanting a home without flattery and falsehoods, then come join me on Dragonstone. I shall never turn you away.”

You gave him a wistful smile.

“You are very kind, Jace,” you replied gently, “and I love you dearly for it. But no such home could ever exist for a Targaryen.”

END PART IV

bonus: I posted a super horny excerpt of a fic where Jace is thinking about ******* you in that dress. enjoy! (yes he was losing his mind fr during that scene. aemond too but he was better at hiding it)

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys x reader #aemond x reader #let's pretend this hasn't been up on ao3 for a week already #jace is so lovesick over u i feel so bad for him needing to compete with his hot and freaky uncle

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targaryen-dynasty · 1 year ago

Text

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE.

Antichrist!Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; dub con, p in v, fingering (with gloves 😮‍💨), dacryphilia, choking, degrading, unprotected sex, power imbalance, female reader

WORDS: 4.7 K

NOTES: Yes, this is based on American Horror Story Apocalypse. Michael Langdon is just so *phew* that I had to adapt it to Aemond. This is so self indulgent, I'm not even sorry. @kaelabear you're getting the special taglist. @arcielee thank you for beta reading this! <3

You have lost track of how many days, months, or even years have passed since your arrival in Outpost 3, and gods, you’d give it all right away to be back in one of the holding cells the government had put you in around the time the bombs rained down over King’s Landing.

Even though you received the status as a purple upon your arrival, therefore placing you to the upper-class elites specifically selected for survival, you couldn’t be worse off. At least there you’ve been allowed to do your own thing – as far as the confines allowed you to.

The nutritional cubes they serve you are rationed, with Ms. Misery announcing they’ll have to ration them even further in the next days, and on top of being hungry and bored, you haven’t had a good fuck in quite the while.

Sexual contact, or any kind of copulation, is strictly forbidden, and you’ve witnessed firsthand what it means to break Miserys’ rules – not that you’d make any moves on the other residents occupying the former exclusive boys school anyways.

It’s only been you and your hand, sometimes even your pillow, from the very beginning on until now, and truth be told? You’re sick of it.

At some point you’ve stopped getting yourself off, only because your body longed for physical contact, for someone else’s body on your own.

And what certainly doesn’t help with your misery is the mysterious man that arrived just a few days ago.

When he introduced himself as Targaryen, you knew his arrival was something that came partnered with power. As much as you would have liked to focus on his speech to campaign himself, you found it was far too difficult to care about humanity being on the brink of failure when the man telling you about it was so, so damn easy on the eyes.

Just the sight of his sharp features, regardless of a part of them being concealed by a black eyepatch, has been enough to make your mouth water. And when your eyes traveled lower, taking in the way his black slacks all but hugged his toned thighs, all was lost for you.

You’ve been grateful that Laenor pounced on him to be interviewed first, wanting to see if he'd be worthy enough to be relocated to the so-called sanctuary, because you certainly would have jumped Targaryens’ bones right then and there.

His alluring aura, the dominance radiating off of him – it all are factors that drive your aching body to insanity. and the nights that followed you found your relief more than once with the image of him flashing right before your eyes.

Some time has passed in which you’ve barely seen him around, only hearing of him through the stories of the other residents that have been interviewed by him; now it’s your turn to warm the large chair standing in front of the imposing Mahogany desk.

It’s the door behind you sliding open that lets your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, and you fidget with your fingers to stop yourself from turning around. You don’t want to be caught staring in the first few seconds already.

You hear your name fall past his lips so smoothly it sends a shiver down your spine. You give in to the temptation and watch him step inside with an air of mellow gratification, prowling around the desk until he eventually sits down in the empty seat across from you.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he purrs, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye.

There comes no reply from you, instead you continue to fumble with your fingers, looking at what you assume to be your file splayed out on the desk in front of him.

It’s the dismissive hum that rumbles in his chest that finally piques your interest, and when your gaze settles on him again, you spot him touch his chin thoughtfully as his eye skimps over the pages, seeming as if he’s reading it for the first time.

The red gloves he wears stand in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless rest of his outfit, your gaze drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He has worn them upon his arrival already; the smooth leather shining in the dim light of the candles makes your mind wander to more indecent things.

He tilts his head up again to meet your gaze, his smooth and calming voice ringing out. “Your genetic profile would appear to be favorable, so you can say that this interview is solely conducted as a… precaution.” Though it’s meant to be reassuring, the deliberate pause he makes doesn’t seem convincing.

His words make you frown. “What for?” you ask, and you curse yourself for how blunt and bold your voice sounds. “Aren’t you in need of relocating the last few people that pass on good genes, now that this is the last outpost standing?”

The genuine laugh he offers you prompts you to lean back in your seat, juxtaposing the way he leans forwards in his. Something in the arrogance that radiates off of him, and the smug smirk he has on his lips, feeds your irritation.

“Doesn’t seem like you can afford to be picky,” you snap back at him.

He licks his lips, and although it’s not longer than a second, your mind immediately drifts off to think about how it would feel between your legs, how he would feel between them. You try to be subtle as you shift in your seat, barely moving enough to soothe the aching that blooms at the apex of them.

“We’re making the selections as carefully as possible,” he counters. The paper of your file is pinched between his index and thumb, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers. “We need to ensure the survival of humanity, and I’m sure you understand that we have to look for a certain level of ambition in the people we choose.”

Even though his explanation is vague, and doesn’t make much sense to you, it is strangely appealing. The word ambition is such a broad term that could mean anything from career-minded to cutthroat, yet you still have to figure out exactly what he means.

The tension grows thicker and thicker with each passing second of silence, and you feel a warm sensation spreading inside of you from his intense gaze – which is perhaps also due to the hint of desire that gleams in his eye as he regards you.

You try your best to ignore the way your heart races, wanting to diminish the warmth inside of you. But to no avail.

When he rises from his seat, your heart drops into your stomach again, and your eyes grow wide with curiosity and intrigue.

It’s a brief flicker of your eyes down his body that has you squeezing your thighs together, far too distracted by how tall he is than to notice the smug smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Would you say that you’ve… settled here?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of something you find difficult to decipher.

He slowly stalks around the desk, the tips of his leather-clad fingers smoothly gliding over the dark wood. His eye lingers on your face, taking you in and assessing your reaction. His expression holds the same edge of darkness his voice does, though he isn’t hiding it as effectively as he thinks he is this time.

Your eyes never leave his frame when he comes to stand next to you, leaning back against the desk. He’s gripping the edge of it, and even in the dim light of the candles, you notice that it’s rather tightly, almost as if he’s suppressing the urge to touch you.

“Well, I suppose I’ve managed to adjust,” you reply.

For a brief moment, neither of you says anything. He just stares at you with this cold precision – until you catch his eye flitting lower, trailing over your form.

The purple gown you wear isn’t revealing at all, not that Ms. Misery would allow you to wear anything of that sort anyways. The neckline is squared with raised yet off-the-shoulder structured shoulders that leave little to the imagination – but only if you’ve been touch deprived for long enough.

And, judging by the way his jaw clenches as his eye meets yours again, you can tell it’s also been a while for him.

The thought of it makes your blood run hot, the warmth now spreading to your cheeks. Your gaze falls to your lap, watching your fingers fumble with each other while you feel his bore into your frame.

There’s a hum rumbling in his chest once again, but this time it sounds more like a purr, as if he finds satisfaction in your nervousness. “Are you normally this flustered in front of men… or is it just me?”

A sudden rush of excitement and embarrassment floods your veins as your mind processes his words; your head snaps back up to look at him, and you’re greeted by a teasing grin.

“I’m not flustered,” you reply, your voice only wavering slightly, yet you know that it’s clear to him that you’re not being very honest. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you.

He tsks, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I mean, I can see you,” he says, gesturing to you with his hand. “You’re licking your lips, you can’t meet my eyes for more than a few seconds, your cheeks are flushed – it’s clear your body yearns to be touched…” he trails off, smirking to himself as he briefly glances to the ground. “... by me.”

His statement catches you off-guard. A quick exhale from your nose leaves you feeling winded with the sensations of butterflies wreaking havoc within your body.

The silence between you lingers, heavy and thick as you ponder over his words, and you decide to go all in. You glance at him sideways, before speaking. “Is that so?”

His eye darkens at your coy demeanor, and with the corners of his quirking up into a sly smirk, he reveals just a glimpse of the devil that lurks beneath the angelic exterior. “Oh, it is,” he replies with a mocking tone. “I know you’re getting off to the thoughts of me at night, sweet thing. And even right now, you’re dripping for me. It’s almost pathetic.”

He almost seems relieved as he finally reaches to trace a gentle line over your exposed shoulder, starting at the crook of your neck. His light touch and the coldness of his gloves cause you to shiver involuntarily, and makes your breathing heavy.

As if he’s searching for something within yours, his eye narrows, and your mind races with the possibility of what such a look might signify.

“Look at you,” he purrs, licking his pouty lips. “You’re sitting here, just waiting for me to take things a step further – all the while I could smell that sweet pussy of yours ever since I’ve stepped into the room.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words, making it difficult to swallow, and you feel yourself clench around nothing; the urge to squirm in your seat is nearly overwhelming.

“That sweet scent of yours…” he trails off. Mesmerized by his words and confidence, you almost flinch when he pushes himself off the desk, slowly kneeling down to be on a level with you, hovering close to you like a predator pretending to pounce.

Your breath is heavy, and with your body still facing the desk, you’re forced to turn your head to the side to meet his gaze. There are mere inches between your faces now, and you feel his minty breath fan over your lips, swollen from how often you've licked them at this point.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, and heat follows where the cold leather of his gloves ghosted over your skin. “So desperate to be touched… to be filled,” he hums. While embarrassment blossoms inside of you, there’s no amusement laced within his silky voice. It’s as if he’s just stating facts. “Or am I mistaken?” Your name topples past his lips with so much ease, it makes you imagine how it would sound moaned by him.

Your head begins to swim. His scent, his domineering aura, the warmth emanating off of him – it’s all too much and not enough.

Meekly shaking your head, the ‘no’ you reply comes out not louder than a whisper.

He takes in a quick breath of air, relishing in his victory. The way you submit to him, to his power and dominance, feeds something within him; a hunger that’s been growing more and more demanding from the moment he stepped into the room with you.

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowly rising to his full height, stretching his fingers as he keeps his eye locked on you. A flush spreads over your cheeks at his praise, the subconscious urge to make him proud sending a shiver of excitement through your veins, feeding right into your desire to please him.

He’s standing again, letting his eye drift over your sitting frame for a moment too long, trailing down your neck, over the curves of your breasts, and settling in your lap. A gloved hand comes forward to pinch the skirts of your gown between his fingers, an almost disgusted look on his features.

“Take it off.”

“W-What?”

“W-w-what?” he mocks, the scoff he releases filling you with shame. “Take it off,” he repeats. “Or else I will take it off of you, and that won’t be any more pleasant.”

The thought of him undressing you seems tempting. A small part of you wants to protest, to say something along the lines of ‘you can’t just demand something like this’ but the other part craves this. It feels as if it’s quintessential for your body to survive, not able to go one day longer without being touched at all.

Rising to your feet, you smooth out the skirts of your dress before craning your neck to look up at him. He’s towering over you, hardly stepping back far enough to create any space for you to undress.

Having always been a bit of a pain to put on, getting out of the dress was even worse. The tight fit and squared neckline leaves you with very limited mobility, meaning you’re always relying on a servant to help you get out of it. And facing these difficulties, the thought of removing it all by yourself, especially in front of him, seems almost sacrilegious.

A thought pops into your mind, and your body is quick enough to get through with it before you can even think about it properly.

“Care to help me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. Before he can refuse, you brush your hair over one shoulder and turn around, presenting him with your back and the tightly laced corset.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t refuse, and you say nothing as his fingers find the lacing of your corset, gloves brushing your skin as he slowly undos the laces.

It’s a slow process, one that builds anticipation within you, and has you squeezing your thighs together yet again.

His caresses are light and careful at first, but they grow increasingly firm and forceful. Each tug and pull draws you closer to him, and only when you hear the same dismissive hum rumbling in his chest do you dare to glimpse at him from over your shoulder, seeing him staring at your back with his jaw set with a new purpose.

The fabric is still pinched between his fingers when they suddenly change course, gripping the purple fabric around the lace with a bit more force than necessary. He rips open the corset in a single, harsh motion in a clear display of his impatience, the torn fabric hitting the ground with a thud, and your gown quickly follows suit.

For a moment, you feel relief at being freed from its confines. But it’s fleeting, your skin immediately prickling as you become aware of how much of your body is exposed to him now.

It’s weird to think that this thin layer of modesty has been enough to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, and now it’s peeled away with you knowing he’s gazing at you as if he’s been served his first meal in months.

Easing your trembling legs, you hold onto the desk for support. It feels like an eternity as you crouch forward slightly to steady your uneven breathing, the moment only breaking as he advances towards you, his body leaning against yours and pressing you up against the desk. It’s the only thing keeping you upright, and the moment you feel his hot breath caress your neck, your legs feel like they are about to give in.

His thigh slips between yours, but you can’t feel his hands on your body, assuming he’s clasped them behind his back or kept them at his sides. You can tell that his chest isn’t the only firm thing that presses against your body, his cock rock hard and all but straining against your lower back, clearly finding as much pleasure in the situation as you do.

His proximity is all you’ve thought of for the past days, yet it’s not enough. You need his hands, him, to feel thoroughly satisfied. The urge to whine scratches in your throat, but you manage to swallow it at the last moment.

“Beg for me to touch you,” he drawls, voice laced with a mixture of excitement and hunger.

Exhaling a strained breath, you close your eyes. “P-Please,” you whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Please… touch me. It’s been so long.”

“Hm.” You hear it loud and clear, the amusement, the satisfaction, causing your skin to heat up. “That’s all you’ve got?”

You tip your head back in frustration, meeting with his shoulder, a loud huff slipping past your lips. But you’re so close to getting what you want, there’s no way you’re giving up already.

“Please, please touch me… Mr. Targaryen.” His name is spoken with a bit of hesitation. “I-I- please, fuck, need it so, so bad. Please.” That you’re not stomping your feet on the ground like an insolent child is everything, knowing it would push your chance for relief further away.

But it seems to do the trick, because one gloved hand settles on your hip without him saying anything, while the other clasps around the outside of your thigh, his thumb brushing smooth patterns over your hot skin.

He drags his nose along the side of your face, his breath tickling your skin, and you slightly turn your head to lean into it. “Where else do you want me to touch, mh?”

Feeling him on every inch of your body has you far too aroused to be frustrated by his on-going teasing and stalling. “Right…” you pant, peeling his hand from your hip to bring it down between your legs, “... here.”

A quiet whine slips past your lips as his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, the cold leather of his gloves against your hot skin striking you as a welcome surprise and sending a shiver down your spine. It feels foreign, but nice nevertheless.

You’ve fully anticipated him to pull back again, to leave you high and dry, but he surprises you again, when he drags his fingers through your swollen folds.

“Right here, mh?” he purrs into your ear with a husky voice.

It’s a grazing touch that alone is enough to make your mind hazy, merely humming in return.

He’s not doing more than rubbing your clit and brushing his digits through your folds, but you’re wet enough already for it to be audible. The squelching sounds coming from between your legs are embarrassing, clearly highlighting your desperation for him, and it only gets worse when he slips a finger inside of you.

Taking in a sharp breath, you hold onto the desk again. “God, fuck,” you whine.

His finger is thick enough to be accompanied with a slight burning stretch, intensifying the moment he adds another. You can’t resist the urge to grind against his hand, the base of it applying just enough pressure to your clit to numb any discomfort.

“You like that, mh?” he rasps. “So fucking wet and desperate for my fingers, dripping all over my glove.”

A string of whiny yesses leaves your lips as the pace of his fingers increases, making it incredibly difficult for your hips to maintain the rhythm.

Heavy breaths and pants fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on and bringing you closer to the sweet relief you’ve craved for so long. He seems to sense your impending orgasm, and works you just a moment longer, before he withdraws his fingers from you, making sure the loss would make it even worse.

But there’s no time to whine.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he teases, acting as if he’s completely oblivious to the torture he puts you through, and brings his gloved hand up to your face.

The red leather is covered in your arousal, sticky and glistening even in the dim light. As he spreads the two fingers, a few strings of it connect the leather, and you bite your bottom lip, knowing all too well what might follow.

“Open your mouth, pet,” he commands in a stern voice. “Clean up your mess.”

And you comply, parting your lips and eagerly embracing him pushing them inside. Your tongue swirls around the digits, the leather tasting and feeling completely different on your tongue.

You hardly notice that his other hand has left your thigh, and even less that he’s undoing the zipper of his slacks, pulling out his hard cock. Only when you feel the pressure against your entrance do your eyes widen, and you whine around his fingers as he pushes inside.

Even though you are stretched from his digits, it can not compare to his cock.

He’s filling you to the brim in one, swift thrust, and with you being gagged by his gloved fingers, you can’t do more than mewl and moan. “Fuck, tight cunt taking my cock, hm? That’s it, such a good, little pet.”

Not giving you the chance to adjust to his size, he sets up a reckless pace from the very start, his impatience running thin with the way your tightness embraces him. He fucks you as if it’s a one time thing, as if you won’t make the cut, but something inside of you tells you this is merely the beginning.

Saliva trickles down your chin as his cock drives deeper and deeper, forcing moan after moan past your lips and his gloved fingers. It’s the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your muffled whines filling the room, and if Ms. Misery were to find out, you would be tortured or killed even before the next day arrived.

Maybe it’s the risk of being caught that drives him to his next step, but he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, gloved hand coming down to rest around your throat instead. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking.

You scramble for hold, sweaty palms planted flatly on the wooden surface in front of you, supporting yourself as the man behind you all but fucked every coherent thought out of your brain.

“Look at you,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself. “All you’ve been thinking about was my cock. So desperate to be fucked by me, huh?”

You are so full with him, his scent, his warmth, everything, that breathy whines and yesses are the only things slipping past your lips.

He drags his nose along the side of your face, clearly relishing in the way he’s fucked you dumb with so little effort already, and you almost feel yourself come on spot the moment he presses his lips to your earlobe.

Pushing his hips all the way into yours, he stills them for a moment, bringing up a gloved hand to spit on his fingers and before dragging them harshly over your sensitive clit, and putting you straight into a frenzy.

The tears that were brimming in your eyes now spill and run down your flushed cheeks, hitting the desk he has you hunched over.

“No need to cry, pet,” the man behind you drawls, a satisfaction weaved in his husky voice. “You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted my cock to fuck you stupid? Or do you want me to stop?”

Your blank mind barely processes his words, but just hearing the word stop has you finding your voice again. “N-no,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your ass back against him. “Don’t-don’t stop, Sir. ‘M so, so close.”

“Close, mh? Then fucking come for me.”

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his fingers strumming your clit in a reckless pattern, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release hits you suddenly.

His strained groans are hushed against your neck as you spasm around him, sucking him in hungrily. He works you through it, fucking you as you quiver and shake. Grinding against him, you ride your high out in rhythm with his thrusts, gasping each time his cock pistones inside of you.

His hips falter slightly for a moment, caught off guard by how tightly your walls are squeezing him, but he regains his composure and sets up a brutal pace again. You’re swollen and raw by now, but he doesn't stop.

“That’s it, fuck, I’m gonna get this pathetic cunt stuffed with my cum,” he grunts, pulling his hand from your clit to plant it on your hip.

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling, the tears on your cheeks now dry. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the desk, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding.

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He fucks it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

A strained groan is audible as he pulls out, tucking himself back in his slacks, and assumes the cold demeanor he’s had before. The only courtesy he grants you is picking up your dress and underwear he’s torn off you before, holding it out for you to take.

You get the cue, and dress yourself on trembling legs. The blonde watches curiously, leaning back against the desk again. The red gloves now lay on the desk, and you catch a glimpse of his long, ring-clad fingers.

With flushed cheeks, you briefly look at the ground before presenting him your back again. “Do you mind?”

He nods and steps towards you, silently lacing up your corset, and whenever his skin brushes yours, a shiver runs down your spine. His skin is soft, smooth even, and the warmth emanating from them is far more pleasant than the cold leather.

But the moment is fleeting as he quickly moves to sit down behind his desk again, a new file already pinched between his fingers. You smoothen out the skirt of your dress, merely bowing your head once, and make a beeline for the door.

It’s his voice ringing out that stops you in your tracks, though you don’t dare to turn around.

“I expect you to come back for your second interview tomorrow. See it as an opportunity for me to gauge whether or not you truly have the right… ambition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen,” you mumble in return, a strange sense of satisfaction and anticipation already coursing through your veins.

Hearing your name once again, you turn your head to look at him. “There’s no need to be formal when it’s just us. You can call me Aemond.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

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winniefrezcomics · 1 month ago

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Anonymous asked: When did Perry realize he was trans? Also are his parents also trans or non-binary or anyother gender identity? ♡

All three of them are trans, actually! Carlo strikes me as a person who went thru the lesbian-to-nonbinary-to-transgender pipeline, but I think Wendy knew she wanted to be treated like her twin sister was from a fairly early age, so transitioned much sooner than her husband. (Mama cosma’s disapproval also forced Carlo to socially transition in secret, and he wasn’t able to begin PHYSICALLY transitioning until turning 18 and moving out)

Here’s a comic that hurt tf outta my feelings to sketch lmao- (in a good way)

“orgin story” and more doodles below the cut!

(MILD cw for misgendering and a mama cosma appearance 😷)

As for HOW Perry discovered he was NOT in fact, a little girl, and rather a little boy?

Timmy noticed first, actually!! Though his adopted parents didn’t go out of their way to mention to their son that they were both transgender, a young Timmy eventually noticed them doing thier hormone shots, and Carlo and Wendy had to assure him that they were both okay, they just needed to take thier “mommy and daddy medication” sometimes. As Timmy got older, he noticed other things that made his parents unique, and they would explain anything he asked them, so by the time Poof was born, Ten-year-old Timmy had a pretty solid understanding of what it MEANT to be “transgender”. This understanding is part of the reason he wished on a star for a baby brother- he knew it MIGHT be possible for his parents to have a bio child as well, but also knew thier unique biology might make it difficult

(Sidenote: if ur parents still let u think babies were delivered by the stork or something by TEN, my condolences brother ☠️)

ANYWAY- from the MOMENT his baby sibling was born, Timmy and Poof were INSEPARABLE, with Timmy wanting to help with the baby in any way he could, as often as possible. His parents certainly appreciated the help, and baby Poof was never hurting for love or attention 💕

As Poof grew, his parents encouraged him to play with whatever toys he liked best, and do whatever he wanted, but USUALLY what Poof wanted to do was “whatever his big brother was doing”. From video games to comic books, poof was always incredibly interested in whatever Timmy was interested in, and his brother was more than happy to read the pages out loud, or give him a controller to smack around (usually unplugged lmao, regular older brother shi)

Even when Poof was a toddler, Timmy would occasionally notice things that didn’t quite sit right with him- stuff like poof getting upset when Wendy would tell Timmy his was playing too rough with his sister (despite how much poof LOVED being chucked into soft objects or wrestled), or how much poof seemed to enjoy being called things like “little dude”- but I think it was a visit to Grandmas house when Perry was 7 that finally made him ask the big question- (Drabble below this comic that legit makes me a lil nauseous to look at and I considered not including 🙃)

DRABBLE START

Timmy goes outside to thier front porch, to find poof already sitting on the steps, having clearly retreated from the Christmas party inside. Timmy sits with him and they chat for a while, before Timmy finally goes out on a limb and asks-

“Hey P- random question but- do you ever like, wonder what it would be like if you were a boy?”

Poof shrugs, simply responding “well yeah, everybody thinks about that….”

Timmys nose scrunches, as his hunch starts seeming more plausible

“Bud… I’ve like, never thought about that. even once.”

“Of course not, you already ARE a boy!” Poof pouts

Timmy sighs, clarifying- “no no, like- I’ve never really wondered what it would be like to be a GIRL- eveb when I once dressed like one to hang out with my crush!” He added with a laugh, but Poofs frown only deepened-

“Hmf! Why WOULD you? Being a girl STINKS.”

And with that, Timmy had his answer-

“Ah. Yeeeahhh, thought ya might feel that way… c’mon lil dude- I think we should ah- talk to mom and dad.”

Timmy scooped his younger sibling into his arms, but poof looked up at him with confusion

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Nah, Poofy- I just, uh- think they’ll be able to explain better…”

By Eight years old Perry had fully socially transitioned, coming out at his eighth birthday party, with his parents even getting his name legally changed as a ninth birthday present 💜 ;w;

Making yall look at this doodle again bc it’s relevant lmao- Perry’s aunts and uncles all adore thier little nephew, and couldn’t be happier to see him living as his truest self 💕

#fairly normal parents au #fop au #fairly oddparents #drabbles #timmy turner #fop poof #human AU

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elliyoyo · 7 months ago

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The Time You Thought Too Loud (Gale Dekarios/Reader)

This is Part 1 of 5 times Gale got teased + 1 time he got his payback. If you're starting, this is right place :) I'll be posting the descriptions and prompts on My Masterlist so you know what to expect, but this will be posted one chapter at a time.

Desc: You catch Gale conjuring his goddess, and he gives you a quick legend in the arcane. You can't help but fantasize about him after he gives you the most wanton look known to man.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, afab reader, vague f!masturbation, and fantasizing (including p in v, f!receiving oral, and creampies).

Words: 1.5k

After a long day's running around, all you wanted was some rest. You had used what seemed like tons of extra supplies because of your own mistakes, you didn't know if your left pinky finger would ever feel the same, and you were completely over today. Hell, you were over this week already, and it only just started!

Despite all of that, however, you couldn't help but focus on (and grow curious about) a low shimmering noise from across your group's makeshift camp. It could only be described as weave incarnate, and the most magic you could do was a measly fire bolt… How were you supposed to fake not being interested?

When you look in that direction, you see a faint blue light coming from Gale's area, which confirms your sixth sense for the weave and draws you in even more. You push yourself up from your bedroll and take a sip from a nearby bottle of water before heading over to check out the small commotion. A small projection floats above Gale's hand, a portrait of a beautiful, straight-haired woman whose look alone commanded attention and grace.

You stare for a moment more, taking silent steps up behind him to get a closer look, a finer examination of all the details on her delicate face… The earring she had in common with Gale.

"Oh my, you startled me!" Gale finally notices your presence, jumping in place as the projection vanishes. "I, uh… I was miles away," he mumbles, hands coming together behind his back. Even though you had seemingly interrupted him, there was no hint of irritation or anger, only embarrassment.

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course! I was just… practicing an incantation!" He flashes you an effortless, but emotionless grin, clearly trying to get you to go about your evening. That wouldn't work on you, though.

"Hmmm… Gale, I think there's more to it than that. The figure I saw; she means something to you, I'm sure of it. You can be honest; I'd like to say I had a pretty tame reaction to Astarion's vampirism and Shadowheart's Sharran worship." You can't help but physically respond to him as well with a raised eyebrow and a hand flying to your hip.

"She does. She… is Mystra. I cannot quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her--- to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." His eyes have glazed over, staring off in the distance towards nothing as if he was now conjuring her up, detail by detail, in his mind. Of course, Mystra was important to him, but no ordinary devotee would feel so desperately drawn to see their idol. "No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies; The weave. Mystra is all magic, and as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation."

"I didn't realize the depth of your devotion." There is a twinge of jealousy, even though there is no reason for it to be there. You have no relationship with this man besides both being survivors, just as there is no reason for you to feel anything towards this goddess.

"Magic is my life. I've been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it. It's like music, poetry, and physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses…" He shows off for a moment, flashing lights and shapes between his hands and in front of your face. Impressive, but he's certainly holding back, not revealing too much of his hand yet.

"Would you like to experience it firsthand?"

"Yes, of course I would!" Personal magic lessons from the magic prodigy? Maybe you were wrong to think there was nothing here. He could have thunderwaved you across camp by now if he had been bothered by your intrusion.

"Then follow my lead." He poises his hands up, doing a quick (easily copied) movement that has you feeling ready and at ease.

"Excellent! Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

"Okay, uh… Ah-Thran Mystra… Ryl, Kantrach-Ao!"

"Very good, and I know it's exciting, but no need to shout," he laughs out, doing his best to hold his arms and hands steady. "Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can."

You let your thoughts and consciousness fade from being at camp, next to Gale, with a mindflayer worm in your gods damned head, to your childhood. Early. Before it had the chance to get bad. Picking dandelions with your friends from the spots of land surrounding your family's. Birds chirping, the smell of fresh baked bread wafting out your kitchen window. Not a drop of blood or a tear in sight. And suddenly, as if you'd been doing it your entire life, the state of calm you'd achieved pushed out a burst of Weave. Gale's eyes widened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal before too long.

"You did it! you're channeling the Weave--- how does it feel?"

"It feels effortless… You're a wonderful teacher, Gale."

"I know." His nose crinkles when he laughs this time. It makes you feel something strange and new in your stomach, makes your throat seize and your guard immediately fall. The moment connects you two, it feels intimate in and of itself. The confidence of having just successfully performed magic, magic for gods' sake… and in front of the most awkwardly attractive wizard you could have been stuck with in this whole situation.

You can't help but think of kissing Gale. With passion, cradling his cheek and neck with a hand each. It's a knee jerk, uncontrollable want that invades your mind before you can hide it from Gale. And see it he does, he nearly chokes on his own breath while his cheeks gain a dusting of light pink and sheen.

"I… didn't think… Sorry, I wasn't expecting… that… But it is a pleasant image to be sure!" His eyes are wide open up until he chokes on his own hitched breath, the unexpectedness of such a romantic gesture tugging at his heartstrings. Making him want. He would have jumped at the chance, sure, but not now. Not with the burden it would put upon you. "…And there it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were to obtain." He meets your eyes one last time before he turns around, retreating into his tent. "Good night, I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you."

And with that, you were left alone, to wander off to your own bedroll and ignore the snores and sleep talking of your other companions. You would do anything to be in that tent after the tension you just accidentally caused, but a daydream or fantasy or two wouldn't kill you, eh?

You could only sit still for a few moments once you had gotten beneath your cover again. Your hand felt like it was physically itching, needing to slip under the loose waistband of your resting pants. Plenty of mental groaning later, you had your fingers gently, slowing moving over yourself. You think of the fact that you left each other breathless— you left Gale breathless— and that he hadn't exactly been upset by you thinking of kissing him… He seemed flattered. He looked at you with bashfulness, after being so cautious and slow to reveal himself for the first while.

It turned you on to no end.

Countless images flashed through your brain, all of them uncontrollable and barely coherent, but enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Gale mischievously looking up at you from between your legs, your legs well above your head as he splayed your thighs open and fucked you slowly, meaningfully… He dipped a finger down and toyed with your clit, swollen and sensitive from however many rounds he had already egged you on to do. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, his teeth digging into his lip as he tried to hide a miserable, high-pitched whimper of, "Feels so good, you feel so good, 'm gonna cum!"

And then, you came along with him, in your head. A soft moan slipped past your lips that you prayed nobody heard and sweat clung to your body and bedroll. You slipped a few fingers inside yourself while riding the orgasm out and relished in the slickness. You allowed yourself to sickly dreaming that you were full of Gale. The clarity quickly came in tow, causing you to shake your head and grimace at yourself. At the fact that the situation had made it so that basic human kindness and attention would be enough for you to finish to the thought of somebody.

You wipe your fingers off, let your mind wander around the feeling of his skin and hairs of his chest, as if it were under your cheek that night. You slipped off thinking about the kiss he'd leave on your forehead and soft murmurs you'd have in your ear.

Little did you know that a very flustered, erect Gale was now the one with a difficult night mere meters away.

#x reader #gale x reader #gale imagine #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios imagine #gale x you #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #bg3

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slaymitchabernathy · 25 days ago

Text

His Darling Dancer

Tears burn in Soarynn's eyes as she closes the front doors to her apartment. She knows that in order to successfully sneak into the bathroom without being spotted, it will require stealth and not running into the one person she really doesn't want to see right now.

She sniffles, quietly padding down the hallway toward her room. If luck is on her side, he's in his study right now, working hard to bring home the bacon. She can hear their hurtful words echoing around in her head, piercing her heart like bullets.

"She's got two left feet."

"She's so uncoordinated."

"I pity her husband, if she can't learn the steps, imagine what else she can't learn."

Soarynn chokes back a sob, stopping it at the top of her throat so it doesn't escape and alert anyone who might be listening. She's already decided that she'll have a proper cry, then take a shower and pretend to be sick.

She hurries into her bedroom, shutting the doors behind her and lets out a small sigh of relief. The hardest part, making it down the hall without being seen, is over with. She goes to walk into the bathroom, head lowered in shame and embarrassment over what happened today when she collides with a large wall that smells like roses.

Coriolanus.

His hands immediately fall to her waist, steadying her so she doesn't trip. She's always been a bit clumsy.

"Darling, you're home from class early," he notes.

Soarynn stares down at his shiny black shoes. Since the day she met Coriolanus, he's always known exactly who he is. A businessman, a successful businessman who's never stepped out of his lane. Perhaps she should heed his actions and stop trying to be something she's not. At least she'd stop wasting his hard-earned money with her silly little hobbies like ballet.

It's almost funny how different their attire is today. Him, dressed in an expensive suit with his shiny shoes and gelled-back curls. And her, dressed in her black leotard and light pink skirt, with pink tights and ballet slippers.

It looks like she's playing pretend.

She doesn't say anything and she doesn't dare look up at him for she knows that if she stares into those bright blue eyes, she'll finally burst into tears.

All she does is nod.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" He presses, worry seeping into his tone. Coriolanus has always been protective over Soarynn and her sensitive heart. She sometimes worries that he must be tired of her overreactions to every little thing that goes wrong in her life. Perhaps he wishes he married someone else. He certainly had his pick of the litter.

But he chose her and that has to mean something.

Right?

Soarynn shakes her head with trembling lips and shaking hands, more shameful memories flood into her head. She remembers how she showed up to her ballet class today, with her little bag and her hair tied into a bun. She got to class a little earlier than usual today, wanting to have some more time to warm up and stretch.

Soarynn has been taking ballet classes for a few months now, she thought it would be fun and Coriolanus was more than encouraging for her to try something new. He thought it would be good for her to put herself out there, "make friends," he had said.

She hasn't particularly been doing too well on that front.

She tries, she tries to make friends with the other girls in her class but they all know each other which makes it hard to connect. But she didn't let that stop her from learning ballet. She enjoyed it immensely, even if she was always singled out, always without a partner.

She never mentioned that to Coriolanus when he asked her about class.

She enjoyed the classes, why would she mention that one little tidbit of information, useless information in her opinion?

Until today when most of the girls were also there early, stretching by the mirrors that covered the entire left wall. She saw them looking at her, whispering about her.

"Look at her tights."

"Look at her skirt, it's so ugly."

Soarynn had just pretended not to hear them, deciding to stretch out in the hallway instead. Then came the actual lessons. Soarynn wasn't doing as well as she had last class, messing up counts, stumbling, and tripping a few times. It was when she fell down that it all went downhill.

In a theatrical cliche, the music stopped and everyone looked down at her on the ground. While her teacher asked if she was alright, her classmates whispered about her, sharing rude comments and gossip.

"She's got two left feet."

"Maybe she needs to practice with the little girls instead."

Soarynn was willing to look past all those comments along with the ones made previously at the beginning of class. She'd tell herself that they were all having a bad day even though she was having the worst one.

But then came the lowest blow, right as she was pushing herself off the ground she caught the quietest whisper.

"It's like we're all graceful swans and Soarynn is the ugly duckling."

Soarynn couldn't bear it any longer, she grabbed her things and fled the class, telling her teacher that she wasn't feeling well after that fall.

"Soarynn? Soarynn what happened? Who did this to you?"

He gently grabs her elbow, lifting it up so he can properly see the bruise forming on it. Turns out the fall was both emotionally and physically painful for her.

Finally, the dam breaks, and her tears fall freely down her face. "I...I fell," she cries, burying her face in his crisp white shirt. Coriolanus pays no mind to the cleanliness of his shirt, all too focused and worried about his crying wife. He lets go of her elbow to cradle the back of her head, his large hand easily covers it.

"Darling," he says in his softest, gentlest tone, only reserved for her, "darling tell me what actually happened."

Soarynn squeezes her eyes shut, the memory is too painful to bear right now. She just wants to go to sleep and possibly never wake up again but she knows that Coriolanus won't allow it. He wants answers.

She hears him sigh, feels it too when his broad chest expands and then contracts under his shirt. Even fully dressed he feels so strong, like he's capable of fixing anything for her.

"Let's come into the bathroom and get you cleaned up hmm?"

Soarynn doesn't say anything to protest his suggestion which leads to her sitting on her vanity stool while he crouches down in front of her, tissues and first aid kit in hand.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?"

She can't bring herself to talk right now so a simple headshake will have to do. "Ah, well, let's fix these tears then," he says, gently wiping her face with a soft tissue. Soarynn closes her eyes again, so embarrassed that he has to see her like this. She wishes she weren't so fragile and sensitive. Coriolanus never lets anything get to him.

Soarynn sits there quietly in her stupid ballet clothes that she's never going to wear again. Maybe she can sell them to someone. She'd been so excited to go buy clothes for her class, even gave Coriolanus a bit of a fashion show which he loved, complimenting every leotard and skirt.

Once her tears are gone and her sniffling has stopped, Coriolanus asks her one more time.

"What happened darling?"

She wishes she could forget that today ever happened.

"I um, I went to class," she starts, her voice so soft that he has to lean in to hear her better, "and I um, I got there early, so I could stretch." Coriolanus nods, he helped her do her bun today after breakfast, slicked it back with some of the gel he uses for his curls.

Soarynn usually opted for a braid or ponytail but after seeing how the other girls did their hair, she wanted to fit in. So she asked him to help her and he did, he took the time out of his busy morning to help her do her hair.

And now it's all ruined.

More tears threaten to spill but he's quick to wipe them away with the brush of his thumb, "It's alright," he says, "it's alright darling."

Soarynn whimpers, it’s not alright. Nothing is alright. She’s ashamed of how easily she lets others get to her, how a handful of words can ruin her entire day, especially when she knows that Coriolanus actually has real problems to deal with.

From what she’s heard and what he’s told her, his job as a businessman can be very stressful with people talking at him from every direction. He’s constantly in the spotlight, criticized for every move he makes. Soarynn had vowed to herself that she’d never give anyone a reason to criticize him because of her.

She would always be good, sweet, and quiet. Which she mostly is, to begin with but now her acts of kindness hold more weight to them. She cannot afford to act out if she values her husband’s reputation.

She dares to look into his eyes, like a calm sea after a storm. Her eyes are a more stormy blue mixed with gray, always filled with tears whereas his are calm and stable, steadying her with a single glance.

Coriolanus has been nothing but good to her since they first met. Soarynn had been attending a gala as one does in the Capitol. She had gotten overwhelmed by the noise and the people, the judgmental glances and whispers she’d grown used to.

Being beautiful is a gift but also a curse, if people can’t give you flack for your physical appearance, they’ll dig hard and deep to find something else to hate. In Soarynn’s case, it was her timid nature and her sensitive heart.

She had escaped to one of the many grand hallways in the mansion where the gala was being thrown, desperate for some fresh air. She walked down the long hall, breathing in and out, glad to be away from the prying eyes when one of the many doors opened, about ten men flooding out of the room they were just in.

It must have been a quick meeting or something from what she’s gathered, unplanned but at the same time, perfectly planned for her to meet Coriolanus for the first time.

She had stood by the window as they all walked out, her eyes drawn to the tallest man in the group. He looked so handsome in his dark blue suit, with his curls perfectly styled. He had merely glanced over at her for a second before he broke away from the group to inquire if she was alright.

From the very start, he’s been so sweet, so gentle, and caring towards her. He’s never yelled, not even raised his voice. He’s taken things extremely slow with Soarynn who hadn’t courted anyone before him. Even on their wedding night, he was so patient, guiding her through the scary steps of losing her virginity.

He had kissed all over her face to make her laugh, tickled her sides, and held her so delicately. Having sex was something Soarynn knew nothing about but she liked it, liked how close she was able to be with him when they did it.

She often wonders if he'd prefer some girl with more experience, someone willing to take the initiative when it comes to doing things in the bedroom. Soarynn rarely has the courage to kiss him let alone undress him.

But that's not important right now, clearly not to him since he looks so very worried for her well-being. "I fell," she whispers, "I fell and they said terrible things about me. They said...they said I was an ugly duckling."

It sounds so silly now that she's said it out loud but she can see in her husband's eyes how angry he is, how those words have now affected him and their small family. Coriolanus might be the calm in the middle of the storm but he doesn't mind going out into the terrible weather, she's seen it before, how he's not scared of putting his neck on the line for the people he cares about.

More tears fall down her face, Soarynn wishes he'd just leave her be since she already has a full day of crying planned out but he stays right in front of her, a more hardened look in his eyes now that she's told him the length of what happened.

"How long has this been happening, darling?"

Soarynn bites her lip. Coriolanus doesn't like it when people lie to him, and she doesn't want to lie to him but she hasn't exactly been telling the truth either. She's really just been leaving out small parts of the story if she's being honest, only parts that have to do with her being an outcast and left out of everything they do in class.

Nothing important.

Coriolanus gently cups her face with his large hand and Soarynn leans into his touch, feeling as though all the problems in the world can be fixed by her husband.

"It's been happening for quite some time," she quietly admits, looking back down at her lap, "I try to make friends but they don't like me."

She hears him sigh, it's not an angry sigh which is good, she doesn't want him to be angry with her. "Why didn't you tell me about this darling? We could've fixed this problem months ago, I hate that you've had to go through all of this by yourself."

Coriolanus, unfortunately, has a point. If she just had a little courage, a bit of a backbone then this could've been resolved a long time ago. But she doesn't want him to worry about her, and about these little things.

Soarynn shrugs, "Maybe they're just having a bad day."

Coriolanus leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, "Oh my darling girl, you're too good for this world you know that?"

Soarynn blushes at the petname, he's always called her darling since he insists that it's exactly what she is. "You're just such a darling little thing," he had told her when she asked him about it.

"I don't want anyone to get in trouble," she adds, looking into his eyes when he pulls away, grabbing her skirt and nervously tugging on the fabric, "and I...I also don't want to go back to class anymore, if that's okay with you."

Coriolanus could easily say that she still has to go. He already paid for all the classes up front and there's to be a small recital in about a month. And he paid for the clothes, the shoes, Soarynn is starting to realize how much of a burden she is for Coriolanus.

His brows furrow, confliction evident in his face, Coriolanus Snow is not a quitter, but his wife might be. "But you've worked so hard darling," he reminds her, "and there are other ways to fix this problem besides running from it."

Ouch.

He means well, she knows that, but Soarynn is all for giving up and not looking back. It's that damned determination that makes him so charming and noble in her eyes, never backing down from a fight.

Soarynn sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand now that the tears seem to be coming to an end, "Like what?"

He gives her a small smile, "Don't you worry about a thing darling."

꧁ ꧂

꧁ One Month Later ꧂

Soarynn navigates her way to the front of the theater, adrenaline rushes through her veins after the performance she just put on with the other girls in her class. She still can't believe how well it went and most importantly, how she didn't fall.

Soarynn finally reaches the lobby of the theater where tons of people are milling around, all offering their congratulations to the ballerinas they came to support. Soarynn gets a few looks from some of the girls, but they don't say anything mean to her and that's all she can really ask for.

Soarynn carefully weaves through the crowd, looking for the one person who promised he'd be here. It would be one thing to fall during their performance, but another thing entirely to be without anyone supporting her in the audience.

Soarynn is beginning to worry that he wasn't able to make it, that a meeting ran late, or that something came up when someone taps her on the shoulder. Soarynn turns around and breaks into a grin when she sees her husband, her handsome, lovely, supportive husband with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"You came," she gasps, throwing her arms around him. Coriolanus chuckles, wrapping his free hand around her frame, "Of course I did darling, I had to come see my darling little dancer." Soarynn beams at his words, nothing else matters when she's with him, not the mean words or the nasty looks.

They're already getting a few looks from some of the other ballerinas and their husbands but Coriolanus glares right back, standing firm in his support for his wife. Soarynn doesn't know what he did exactly after he found her crying and found out what was happening to her.

She just remembers him helping her change into her pajamas and carrying her to bed. He brought her tea and smoothed down her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before promising to take care of everything and not to worry her pretty little head about it.

He never told her what happened, what he did, what he said, but class became much more bearable and Soarynn even managed to make a friend in the process.

"You were terrific by the way," he adds, "practice truly does make perfect because you were the best one on stage." Soarynn blushes at the compliment, she certainly wasn't the best but she wasn't the worst one on stage and she's okay with that.

"Well thank you for coming," she says softly so he leans in to hear her over the voices filling the room, "you really didn't have to." Coriolanus firmly shakes his head, almost looking offended by her words, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Well, that's sweet.

The roses smell sweet as well, an intoxicating scent that overwhelms her entirely and reminds her of Coriolanus. Despite the expensive colognes he uses, he always smells of roses.

"I say we got out and celebrate tonight," he suggests, guiding them through the thick crowd, "we can even stop by the petshop afterward." Soarynn perks up at the mention of the petshop, one of her favorite places to drag Coriolanus to whenever he has the time.

Soarynn often visits the cute white kitten in the shop but she only goes inside when she's with Coriolanus since he has no issues asking if she can hold the small feline. Soarynn is far too shy to ask so she settles for looking through the window, dragging her finger along the glass for the kitten to follow and try to catch.

"Can we get that little white kitten? She's just so sweet and it would be the perfect end to the day," Soarynn tries, feeling a bit of courage after conquering the stage and the gossiping ballerinas. If she can handle this, she can handle anything.

Coriolanus chuckles, rubbing her side and she knows he'll say yes, it's moments like this where she has him in the palm of her hand. Coriolanus might be stern and cold to the rest of the world, but Soarynn knows that he'd also burn it if she asked him to.

As they're stepping out onto the street he answers her question, once again solidifying that so long as she stays by his side, he'll stay by hers.

"Anything for my darling dancer."

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countessvalentines · 7 months ago

Text

Why Dont You Do Right (pt. 1?)

pairing: the ghoul/f!reader

word count: 2.2K

warnings: 18+ Only, Minors Do Not Read!! sex work, smut, oral sex, P in V sex,

summary: a mysterious ghoul requests your services in Gomorrah during his visit to New Vegas.

notes: this is my first time writing the ghoul and not cooper, I hope this was what y'all were hoping for!

dividers by @saradika

gif by @hereticstations

Gomorrah hotel and casino but of course its so much more than that. You'd been employed there for a couple of months but have already made quite the reputation for yourself. Not many "smoothskins" here take ghoul clients, but you were an equal opportunity dancer and sex worker and caps were caps. Besides, sometimes ghouls could produce an experience only they can give and you were all about gaining new life experiences since you arrived in New Vegas...

It's a far cry from where you came from.

It's a typical day for you at work, dancing in Brimstones lower lounge as you had been stationed. Not every dancer also takes clients either, but you wanted to take every opportunity that came your way and being in the lower lounge with easier access to the courtyard outside made that a much easier task for you.

It's the start of your shift and not many customers have come in yet, the place is empty save for a few regulars that always come as soon as it opens. That's when you see a particular cowboy come striding in. His duster is old and worn, colors on his jacket faded. His tanned hat is pulled down over his face, but something is striking about him and his presence.

Everyone in the place seems to have some sort of reaction to him, most seem to cower in fear, some customers just leave. To you, he's another customer so you keep up your seductive dance. Besides, your favorite song just came on.

You had plenty money 1922. You let other women make a fool of you...

The slow jazz tune plays as you snake your arms above your head and sway your hips to the low bass. It seems to get the attention of the cowboy who walks over to your station and sits down on the booth. His hat still covers his face as he spreads his thighs and removes the bag slung over his shoulder.

You continue to dance to the music, turning around slowly as you remove your lacy robe, spinning it around your head before walking up to him and wrapping the lace around his neck playfully.

Why don't you do right? like some other men do...

As you get a look at him, you notice he's a ghoul, which explains some of the reactions he got when he walked in, but certainly not all. That's not all you notice about him, his eyes are piercing, perceptive, watching you closely in a way you can't quite put your finger on. Part of his look makes you think he wants to kill you and eat you, while at other times he looks like he's trying to see through your soul. It's not the usual vulnerability you're used to feeling with hungry eyes on you, but you try to shake it off and focus on the art of the tease.

If you had prepared twenty years ago You wouldn't be wanderin' now from door to door.

You turn away from him, putting your backside in the air and crawling to the ground. You claw your way on the ground away from him, emphasizing your hip movements with each crawl. You get up on your knees and spin to face him, whipping your hair around. You roll your hips in waves over and over to the beat of the low notes, making eye contact with him.

Something about him draws you in where it seemed to repel so many others, and it makes you so curious about him. You get to your feet and dance your way over to his seat, making his lap your chair and wrapping an arm around his neck.

"What brings you to Gomorrah cowboy?" You know better than to ask for names in a place like this.

"Same as everyone else, darlin." He says in a growl as he hovers a gloved hand over your waist and eyes your body as you sit on him.

In encouragement, you put your hand on his and invite him to touch you, guiding his hand to your waist while you straddle him.

"And what's that?" You ask curiously as you lean forward and press your chest to his while rolling your shoulders back in time with the rhythm of the song.

"I know it when I see it." He says as he looks at you, his hazel eyes gazing into yours. His eyes are heavy with an exhaustion only the wasteland brings.

In your time here you've gotten to read people well enough and there's a determination in his eyes that of which can't be compared. Besides, the way he looks at you makes it clear he hasn't been touched intimately in quite some time. You begin rolling your against him as the music swells to its finish. You can feel his arousal building beneath you and you smirk knowingly.

Get out of here and get me some money, too Why don't you do right? Like some other men do Like some other men do

"Are you seeing it now?" You ask coquettishly while you wrap your arms around his neck and smirk at him.

Wordlessly, he smirks at you and takes off his hat, placing it on your head before lifting you up.

You yelp in excited surprise as he lifts you, but you can't help but giggle as he carries you to the private tents in the courtyard outside. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way inside one of the tents.

The heavy canvas blocks out most of the light and sets a particular mood inside. The ghoul carries you and sets you down on the mattress inside, pining you underneath him.

"Does that answer your question, sweetheart?" He growls as he lowers his body over you, the weight of his body and his heavy clothing keeping you from moving much beneath him.

"Only partly," You tease as you watch him move back and shrug off his heavy duster, falling to the floor with a thud.

He quirks his head as you answer his unspoken question.

"I don't know how much of my services you require."

You say while sitting up on your hands and bringing your knees up slightly to emphasize the shape of your legs.

"Lets just say I want whatevers on offer." He says in a low voice while taking his vest off and sliding it onto the floor. He starts unfastening his belt, and you take that as a signal. You get on your hands and knees and crawl over to him, taking his gloved hands in yours and stopping him.

You unfasten his belt for him, unzip his pants and spring his hardening length free. He growls as he grabs your jaw, looking down at you with hunger. You go to wrap your lips around him, but he stops you.

"Not just yet, doll." He coos before he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a tin of Rad X. He shakes the tin before popping it open and pulling out a pill.

"Open wide." He instructs by mimicking the gesture. You comply and open your mouth for him and he pops the small pill in your mouth. With a gulp you swallow and he growls erotically as he gives you a crooked smile.

"Good girl." He says stroking your hair before grabbing your chin again and encouraging you to pick up where you left off.

Without hesitation, you wrap your lips around his erection. He groans as you continue to take him in more and more. The length is a bit intimidating but you manage to take him down your throat. Your tongue expertly licks up and around his shaft while you wrap your hand around the base and squeeze softly.

The ghoul moans and his eyes flutter closed while his hand wraps around the hair on the back of your head. He wraps your hair around his hand and tugs, pulling you away from him roughly. "You're doing that a little too well, darlin." He says gruffly while gazing down at your mouth dripping with saliva.

You take the compliment with a delicious grin and take only his tip inside your mouth. You flick your tongue over the sensitive slit and pump your hand up and down. The ghouls body reacts and his hips buck into you, needing more of your touch. You take more and more of him in your mouth slowly again and his grip on your hair tightens. He can't help but push you further onto him as much as he can. You take his entirety in your mouth and down your throat as he continues to thrust into you. His cock choking you slightly, but you're able to relax your throat enough for it to be comfortable for a few moments. That's all it takes for the ghoul, as he expels his release down your throat as his hand grips your hair and his whole body trembles. He groans harshly as he continues to spill down your throat, breaths getting more and more even as his hips calm down.

Slowly, you pull your mouth away from his body and release his cock from your lips. You look up at him for his reaction and he's looking down back at you with glazed and half-lidded eyes, clearly satisfied with your work. You smile as he grabs your chin, wiping away remaining cum and saliva left behind. You get to your feet, straightening your clothes and hair, and preparing to exit the tent.

Before you do, the ghoul quickly and roughly grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him.

"Where do y'think You're goin?" He says with a smirk as he pulls you in towards his chest.

He tilts your head up towards him before taking your lips between his, tongue parting your lips open and tantalizing yours. His hands wrap around your waist and tugs what's remaining of your clothing and you help him take it off.

His rough leather gloves run over your soft skin, the contrast sending a shiver through your body. His eyes wander over you as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, nipping and biting with a low growl.

You definitely weren't expecting him to want to continue, usually your clients are a one-and-done situation, but this all felt so different.

With his arms tightly around you, he lifts you in the air and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. He holds you up with one arm, clearly incredibly strong, and he moves a gloved hand to his mouth removing it with his teeth. Quickly, he moves his hand between you and finds your heated core. He slips two fingers over your sensitive bud stroking it slowly and intentionally. You can feel your clit throbbing, your arousal building and your need growing. He smirks as you react, watching as your body clenches and writhes and your eyes close.

"That's it, sweetheart." He coos as he continues to expertly work your clit. You whimper and your breathing hitches, letting yourself relax and enjoy the sensations.

It doesn't take long for you to feel slick with desire, and he takes the opportunity. He pulls your hips downward in an aggressive motion and you feel him slip inside of you. Your internal walls clench around him and pulsate in time with his thrusts. Your breasts bounce as you ride him, pressing against his textured skin and adding additional pleasure. His moans get more and more frequent, his movements getting more and more sporadic as both of your pleasure continues to build. The way his ribbed cock feels inside of you is incredible and the way he knows how to pleasure your clit is like he's pleasured you 100 times before.

You feel your own rapture building in your center and your whimpers get more and more desperate. The ghoul growls in your ear before biting your earlobe and kissing down your neck.

"Come for me." He commands as you feel yourself shudder around him. Your clit throbs faster and faster and your walls clench around his dick as your orgasm reaches its peak. It causes you to cry out in ecstacy and as you do, you feel the ghoul's own release spill inside of you. It fills you with warmth as he holds you and his hips get slower and slower.

Finally, you both come down and he slips out of you, holding your sweating bodies close together for a moment before helping you to your feet.

As you stand, you feel a bit woozy and your balance starts to waiver. The ghoul holds you upright as he exhales a laugh.

"The Rad-X will help with that." He says while cleaning himself up and gathering his belongings.

As you gather your things, you're so satisfied you nearly forget this is a business. You've enjoyed yourself so much it seems almost wrong to charge him. Before you can say anything, he walks by you, brushing his shoulder against yours as he starts to leave.

"Start me a tab, doll. I'll be back."

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