#Iron Kettle tea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollowdeath · 10 months ago

Note

Thank god, another Harry Potter lover! 👓⚡️He really deserves more love! ❤️ That’s why I imagine him and the reader settling in a cottage by the sea or lake (you decide) to heal from the Wizarding War. They find comfort and solace in each other, and yes that includes countless lovemaking. 🥰 It’s just the two of them, so they’re free to express their love whenever and wherever they want. They especially enjoy making love on the shore under the stars after a swim, by the fireplace on a soft blanket, and in the bathtub surrounded by candles. They just need to feel and hold each other to remind themselves that everything’s okay now. You can do whatever you want with this, I just wanted to put it out there. Take care!

thank you so much for this request, i fell in love with it as soon as you sent it! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you & harry have moved away from everything & everyone to a remote cottage where the forest meets the sea. all harry wants after everything he's been through is to find peace, & he finds it in you.

c/w: smut!!! oral sex, penetration, rough sex

word count: 7.3k

harry was up early. he was watching the kettle boil on the gas stove in front of him, enjoying the warmth coming off of it, letting himself relax for just a moment. the steam from the water enveloped his face and felt nice. it was so chilly this morning. the windows were fogged over from the fire raving inside the stove, the wind whistling through the walls of the cottage.

the cottage was beautiful, harry couldn't deny it, though he could do with a bit more insulation. the raw, exposed stone walls were charming, and the moss and vines growing on the outside were something out of a fairy tale, but the fire needed to be fed every hour or so most of the day for at least half of the year or else it dropped below freezing inside. however, luckily, harry came to find wood chopping and trimming to be extremely therapeutic. just him, a sharp ax, and acres of woodlands to explore.

that was another thing harry could never deny about this property: the land was worth every penny. it's not often you find such a stunning cottage sitting on the border between a local forest and, what was essentially, a private beach on the north sea. the beach stretched at least a mile, but was obscured by the trees just behind the cottage. the land wasn't cheap, but harry was ready and extremely eager to spend whatever it took to finally get away from everything, live a simple life, and be alone.

alone with you, that is.

you and harry had gone to school together until the war, but eventually ended up reconnecting and began casually dating just over 2 years ago. since then you and harry had found complete solace in each other, both suffering from the negative side effects of witnessing and experiencing the war firsthand and supporting each other through difficult times. you were mostly struggling with paranoia and anxiety, and were actually the first to suggest getting a place together away from everyone else. you thought it would help if you were out of reach, isolated from the world, practically invisible from all danger.

harry, of course, was utterly haunted by the events of the war, and everything leading up to it. he gets angry at the world, has bouts of depression, deals with monumental grief and guilt, and has chronic, clinical sleep issues caused by nightmares. which is, ironically, the exact reason he's awake so early right now.

as he's pouring the boiling water out of the kettle and over a tea bag, harry can feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. he's barely slept this week, and he's starting to feel the effects of it. he's lightheaded, detached, and just wants to rest.

as he's walking to the front porch, mug in hand, harry takes a moment to pause in the doorway of your master bedroom and admire you. sleeping, surrounded by white cotton comforters, drowning in pillows, your hair wildly framing your peaceful face. he just stays there for a while, leaning against the doorframe, watching. he often watches you sleep when he can't himself. it brings him relief knowing you can get the rest you need.

before he heads outside harry slips on his favorite quarter zip. as he's sitting on the stairs outside, he admires the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred or so yards away from him. he finishes his hot cup of tea, closes his eyes and lets himself sit in the cold waves of the wind. it's nice. like sleeping without the nightmares.

the moment is short lived as he hears the door creak open behind him. he looks back, and is in disbelief at how beautiful you look just waking up. a nightdress that barely covers anything at all draping around your shoulders, messy bed hair, sleepy eyes and a smile as you stand with the door cracked open, admiring harry in return.

"morning," you say simply, your voice still soft and hoarse from sleeping. harry smiles at you with soft and loving eyes. you walk towards him and let the door close behind you as you cuddle up next to harry on the stairs.

you don't seem to mind the chill in the air. your exposed skin is still hot from the fire burning inside. you lean your head on harry's shoulder, reaching for his mug, seeing there's nothing left, and leaving the mug in his hands. harry's chest hums as he chuckles. "would you like some? kettle's still warm," he asks.

you shake your head. you want to stay right here with harry in this moment.

the sea is so beautiful at this time of the morning. the sun was up, but only just barely above the horizon. no clouds, no birds, just the waves and the wind carrying their breeze.

speaking of breeze, you begin to shiver the longer you're out there in only a sleep dress. you still want to stay with harry, enjoying the view with him, but he notices you shaking.

"darling, let's get you inside,"

harry sits you in front of the stove and opens the small latch, letting the door stay open as you attempt to warm your hands. harry feeds the fire and rearranges the coals to make it burn hotter for you. after a minute or so, he also slips off his quarter zip and pulls it over your torso, smiling to himself at just how big it looks on you.

you find yourself finally starting to warm up, your toes burying themselves into the fur rug you're sitting on. after harry pours you a cup of tea, he joins you next to the fire. "thank you," you tell him with a smile, eagerly taking a sip of the warm drink.

harry's arm wraps around you and he watches the fire as you continue to sip your tea, enjoying the feeling of it warming you up from the inside.

you relish this moment with harry. since moving here barely a month ago, you've grown so fond of these smaller moments throughout the day with him. watching the scenery, watching the fire, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a kettle of tea in the morning and afternoon, simply enjoying each other's company and the peace you've created for yourselves. it was one of your favorite parts about settling into this little slice of life.

and, of course, there was all the alone time.

while living with harry at grimmauld place was lovely, there was never truly a moment alone with him there. you had your own room with locked doors, but could hear someone walking, talking, cooking, always something in the background.

here, you were completely alone. a lot of people might find this situation to be even more terrifying, being so far away from everything, but you both agreed the isolation made you feel safer. safe from death eaters, safe from drama, safe from other people.

the safety from being so alone out here also meant that you and harry could be vulnerable with each other 24/7. you never had to put on a face or pretend things were okay if they weren't. if harry had nightmares, he could make some tea and enjoy a moment outside alone without anyone trying to psychoanalyze him. if you wanted to lay in bed until it was dark out again, harry wasn't going to judge you for it.

that vulnerability spread into other parts of your life as well.

you set your mug down next to the fire and turned towards harry who's already watching you as you admire his blue eyes, bloodshot from barely sleeping last night, or the night before. you take his face in your hands and just hold him for a moment, feeling him lean into your touch as his eyes flutter close. "i love you, harry," you say just above a whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

harry looks up at you, but his eyes are now full of lust. you barely have a moment to process what's going on before harry leans in for a gentle, wanting kiss.

harry's always so soft with you despite his clearly strong desire. you've never been with someone who wanted you so bad no matter how many times you've been with them. everything with harry was like the first time all over again; the same desperation and desire to please that just never left.

the kiss quickly gets heated as harry pulls his quarter zip off of you, making you both giggle at the fact that he just put it on you only a few minutes prior. your lips reconnect in a haste, not wanting even a single second away from each other.

harry lays you down on the rug beneath you as his hands make their way to your exposed legs, feeling the heat from the fire on your thighs. his shirt quickly comes off as well from you tugging at it. a moan escapes your lips just watching his body as he pulls the shirt over his head.

harry's suffered from many injuries in these last few years that have left him littered in scars. and while you obviously hate to think about harry in pain, something about his scars drove you crazy with lust. a brave boy who faced death and came back, now healing far away from the cruel world with you as his lover. it was just another reminder that you were safe, that he was finally safe.

harry smiles as he goes in to kiss you again, his hands going right back to your thighs as he pushes your nightdress above your panties. you're holding his face lovingly but harry pulls away from the kiss to look at you. he watches your expression intently as he starts sliding his fingers over your panties, earning a sigh of relief from you. harry's eyes grow darker the longer he teases you. he sits up to use his other hand to hold down your bucking hips, causing you to whine in frustration.

"patience," harry commands from you in a stern voice. you look up at him, jaw lax, breathing uneven, and simply give him a nod.

you love this side of harry. of course you fell in love with the soft, gentle, careful parts of him first, but over time you saw more and more of his angry, controlling, dominant side during sex that you were completely weak for.

living at hogwarts and then grimmauld place right after, most of your intimate moments with harry were kept quiet to avoid being heard. soft whispering, quiet moans, slow movements, and breathless orgasms under a heavy blanket with the lights dimmed. once you moved here, away from everything and everyone, things were different.

of course, you were both still a bit quiet and shy at first, not used to having a place all to your own where no one can hear you for miles. but, slowly, you and harry learned to break old habits and started experimenting together. a lot.

it seemed like neither of you could ever get enough of each other since coming here. you'd always been really attracted to each other, maybe more than the average couple, but something about being alone together in this corner of the world where the forest meets the ocean made you feel so connected, so in tune, and completely and utterly obsessed with each other.

it started with long, drawn-out, foreplay-heavy love making in your new bed to "break it in", sometimes spending hours each day just entangled together on top of the sheets, admiring the other's body and exploring every part. then it would slowly move over to the bath, naturally, after spending so much time sweating together in bed. after a while the sessions would get shorter as you would both be completely exhausted afterwards. instead, they increased in frequency.

either you or harry would find little opportunities to sneak in a quick fuck throughout the day between chores, or would give the other person head as they made dinner in the kitchen. it was thrilling. neither of you had ever been sexual outside of the bedroom/bathroom before, but you found it completely erotic.

you had yet to have sex in front of the fire, oddly enough, but you had thought about it quite a few times before. the warmth of the stove, the soft rug beneath you, the light on harry's skin, the sweat dripping off of him…

"[y/n]," harry said, snapping you out of your daze. "are you even listening to me?" he asks with a smirk.

you blush immediately, so lost in your thoughts about the sex you were just about to have that you couldn't even focus on what was currently happening…

"s-sorry…" you mumble. "you just drive me crazy," you admit shyly.

harry's hand pushes further into your hips, a groan crawling out of his throat as he glares at you. "don't make me cum already, darling," he growls, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.

you whimper under his pressure, your back arching as your body attempts to find some kind of release from the growing tension inside of you.

"so fucking desperate already," harry says, clearly enjoying watching you struggle under his control. "if i could resist you even a little bit i would sit here and watch you struggle all day," he tells you as he leans into your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. you wince and squeal, your heart racing from the pain.

harry smirks at your reaction. he sits up and releases the pressure on your hips, causing them to buck upwards instinctively. a pathetic "please," is all you're able to muster as you attempt to catch your breath.

normally harry wants to hear you do a lot more begging than that, but he's just as desperate as you are at this point and he can't resist you much longer.

harry props your legs up for him after helping you take off your panties, throwing them to the side as he lays between your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at harry who's hungrily looking between your eyes and your pussy. your breathing is rapid and shallow as your heart continues to thump in your chest. even after all these years and all the times you've seen harry between your legs you just never get used to the sight. he still gives you butterflies like a nervous girl with a crush.

your head rolls in pleasure as harry starts kissing your thighs; even in both of your desperate states, even when he's at his most dominant, he's still the gentle, loving harry you're so in love with.

harry's hands find your own and intertwine your fingers together as his tongue begins exploring your pussy. you can feel yourself getting even more wet as harry's mouth attaches itself to you, enjoying how you taste. moaning, whining, hips bucking onto harry's tongue, you start to feel yourself sweat from both the fire and harry's intense gaze up at you.

"f-fuck," you cry, your thighs instinctively squeezing around harry's head. he can't help but moan as he sucks on your clit, practically letting you ride his face.

you reach for your silky nightdress and lift it above your chest, exposing your nipples to the warmth of the fire as you continue watching harry make your legs tremble.

harry's eyes droop in pleasure. one of his hands grabs for your tits and the other applies the same pressure to your hips as before. you let out your first real moan above a whimper, your hips still trying to grind against harry's mouth as he continues pushing you further into the rug.

his tongue's now inside of you, teasing you as you clench around him, your thighs still quivering.

"harry, harry, please," you say breathlessly, begging for more. harry ignores you, instead only going slower to drive you mad. you groan in frustration. he looks back up at you for only a second, but you can see the smirk in his eyes.

his hand lets go of your tits before making its way to your thighs, pushing them away from his head as harry takes a moment to breathe. you're blushing, completely flustered, eyes half-open. "sorry," you apologize.

"don't be. give me more." harry demands.

his hand pushes further into your pelvis, his elbow holding down your thigh as you wince at the pressure.

harry's mouth returns to your clit as his fingers feel how wet you are for him. your body jolts at the sensation, but harry just holds you down tighter. starting with one finger, harry pushes inside you slowly as you writhe under his grasp. your hands get tangled in his hair again, desperately pulling his face further into your pussy.

harry just chuckles, looking up at you as he slowly pushes another finger inside you. you gasp, your grip in his hair tightening as your other hand plays with your tits. just the look in harry's eyes watching you chase your high is enough to bring you close to the edge.

harry's fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy, his lips and tongue still teasing your clit. your thighs threatened to close again, but harry kept them spread open for himself. "enough," he states, planting his elbows into your thighs and his hand against your pelvis. he glares up at you as he repositions himself. "stay."

you can feel your body react to the aggression in his voice. this is the hungriest, and hottest, side of harry you've ever seen. you're already brought back to the brink of orgasm as soon as you can see harry's fingers pumping inside you again, his wrist and forearm veins pronounced against the light of the fire as he picks up his speed.

the moans coming out of your mouth are filthy and involuntary, your mind going blank at the sudden rush of pleasure through your body. once harry's tongue begins circling your clit again, you don't have a chance at lasting much longer.

"i-i, harry, stop, i'm–" is all you're able to get out before your legs begin shaking, your head thrown back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. it feels so good not having to hold back your moans anymore.

harry's lips detach from you, swollen, covered in your wetness. his fingers continue thrusting into you, gently now as you ride out your high. he slowly removes them after a moment, his hand and elbows relieving the pressure that kept you pinned to the ground.

you're still whining, your legs aching from struggling against harry's weight. they feel impossibly heavy as you try to bend your knees up. harry just watches you, enjoying the aftermath of his work.

you're still seeing stars by the time harry's pants have come off, his cock barely peeking through the front of his boxers. he starts rubbing himself through the fabric, his breathing becoming labored as you watched him in a daze.

you look up at him innocently through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly ajar as you lean your weight to one elbow, using the other hand to take his place. he lets you take over, slowly stroking his erection through his boxers, enjoying his gaze down at you from above. his hand goes to your cheek, softly tracing the curve of your smile.

his fingers delicately open your lips before roughly shoving them into your mouth. you make a surprised noise, but quickly begin sucking and licking his fingers. he pulls his boxers down with the other hand, and uses your spit to lube himself up. you lick your own fingers and do the same, helping guide his cock into you with a groan of both pleasure and discomfort.

harry gradually thrusts into you, letting you adjust to him, taking his time with you. he watches your aching pussy welcome his cock eagerly, your legs already starting to tremble from the pressure building inside you again. "oh, fuck," harry's voice cracks, his hands gripping your thighs as they continue to involuntarily shake.

a hand flies to your mouth, barely able to contain yourself already. seeing harry's face of relief as his cock slides all the way inside you only makes you clench around him tighter. he lets out a struggled breath, his grip on your thighs only tightening as he spread them open for himself again.

harry's eyes are closed in bliss, his thrusts slow but deep, forcing a whine from your throat each time he's completely inside you. he's starting to sweat, his hair hanging loosely around his forehead, arms flexed to keep his grip on you, his body leaning down into yours as he starts picking up his pace.

harry looks down at you. one of his hands grabs the hand covering your mouth. "let me hear you, angel," he speaks gently but his voice is hungry, immediately earning a soft moan from your lips. he smiles, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

harry takes this time to really pick up his speed, adjusting his position to roughly thrust himself into your throbbing pussy. his hands grab for the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend back as he only pushes himself into you more.

"oh my god," you gasp into harry's kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself. harry's forehead rests against yours, looking down, glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing and heat from the fire. he's watching himself from your angle, slowing down his thrusting to a torturous pace. you both groan at the feeling and sight of harry pushing his cock completely inside you and slowly pulling back out before thrusting into you again.

"fuck, baby, you take my cock so well, feel so fucking good," harry says breathlessly into your ear. your nails dig into his shoulders as you try not to cum again already just from harry's voice. you're both sweating, faces pressed together, the fire slightly dying beside you but still creating a warm glow.

"y-you're, mmph, i'm so close, again," you cry, letting yourself rest back on the soft rug. you feel so at peace despite the growing tension in your stomach – watching harry prop himself up with one hand on the ground beside you and the other still holding your leg back, his chest heaving as he continues thrusting inside you with a growing pace.

harry looks at your twisted expression, eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing as he roughly uses your body for his pleasure.

"yeah?" harry looks at you, his grip on your leg tightening as he fucks you roughy into the rug. "fucking cum for me," he commands from you.

you barely need his permission before you're already over the edge, legs uncontrollably shaking, eyes rolling back, incoherent words getting lost in your broken moans and cries of pain.

it's all harry needs before he feels himself release inside you, still thrusting into you slowly as his cum spills out of your pussy.

your body is shaking from the sensation, your legs still vibrating as you clench around harry's cock. he struggled to finally pull out of you.

still trying to catch his breath, harry lovingly rubs your thighs as he watches your swollen pussy ache for the feeling of his cock again.

"so fucking beautiful, my love," harry sighs, relaxing his body on top of yours, his head in your neck. "my beautiful, beautiful girl," he repeats, covering you in kisses as he showers you with compliments.

you just giggle at him, exhausted, trying to come back down to earth.

"i can't…move," you mumble between breaths, your eyes drooping closed as your feet touch back down on the rug. you feel even more weak than before.

harry hums, kissing your forehead. "it's okay, i've got you, darling," he says with a warm smile.

he stands up, slowly, but isn't in as much pain as he expected. his knees are sore for sure, but otherwise, he couldn't feel better.

he leans down to help you sit up, guiding your body into his arms as he picks you up bridal style, your head resting in his chest. you giggle again but you're too weak to reject the gesture. he carefully carries you to the bathroom just down the hall from the living room.

harry runs you both a warm bath as you watch from the counter. he's still naked, as are you, but it's not awkward or sexual – it's just natural.

he shuts the water off and reaches for you once again. "i'm okay now," you insist, standing from the counter and steadying yourself with his hands. he still helps you walk to the tub before helping you climb inside. the water's extremely hot, but it feels so nice on your sweaty, aching skin.

"i'll be right back, gotta feed the fire, just wait for me, yeah?" harry says before he dips out of the bathroom.

looking around you as you warm the rest of your body with the water, you notice the candles sitting around the tub from the last time you both took a bath together. just the flash of the memory through your brain is enough to make your stomach twist into knots again. harry had you bent over the side of the tub as water splashed everywhere, the feeling of freedom and carelessness intoxicating you both as you cared about nothing but each other's highs.

with a flick of your wet hand, you light all the candles again, and the room is lit with a warm glow. it's not often you use magic anymore, harry prefers to do things manually now that you're both caring for a piece of land, but the convenience of certain spells are too useful to forget completely.

walking back in, harry smirks at all the candles being lit. he admires you for a moment, naked, sweaty, half submerged in the huge clawfoot bathtub surrounded by the glow of the candles. "trying to insinuate something, love?" harry asks, closing the bathroom door behind him.

you blush, curling your knees into your chest. "just thought it'd be nice to have some light," you say softly.

harry grabs you both towels and sets them next to the tub before climbing in himself. he positions himself behind you, holding your body as he guides you to relax into his chest. once you laid your head back, you and harry sat in comfortable, warm silence for a long while.

it takes a few minutes before harry's hands begin rubbing at your stomach, slowly, making ripples throughout the water as you lower your knees, letting harry comfort you. he's humming softly, your head rumbling in his chest. he rests his head next to your own and watches his hands from your perspective.

his rubbing gets further and further down your stomach, running his hands along your waist and hips before finally grabbing at your inner thighs roughly. you let out a pathetic whimper, watching his hands from above the water.

"is it bad that i already need you again?" harry chuckles, half joking but half already turned on. you shake your head quickly, your hips thrusting up for relief, moaning at his words. "no, need you, please," you respond desperately, looking over at him.

harry's eyes are darker once more, watching as his hands gradually move to your sensitive pussy. you groan in response, but harry quickly kisses you to cover it. "i know, baby, just let me take care of it," he says into your lips.

slowly circling your clit with soft fingers, harry watches as your eyes droop more and more from the building pleasure. eventually his fingers are back inside of you, gently pumping in and out. his head turns back to your body as he watches you react to him. his other hand goes for your tits, grabbing one roughly from just above the surface of the water.

while it feels good being teased you're insanely desperate for harry once again. your hand reaches behind you, feeling harry's growing erection against your back. harry's grip on you tightens as your hand starts stroking his cock slowly under the water.

"fucking dirty girl," he groans under his breath, taking his fingers out of your pussy to continue rubbing your clit. you cry out at the loss of feeling, your hand squeezing around harry as he just enjoys the feeling.

soon, harry's moved your hips to align with his, your arms holding your body up on either side of the tub as you slowly insert harry back inside your pussy once again. the familiar feeling is only enhanced by being underwater, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease as you adjust to the feeling.

"oh my god," you sigh, your stomach already tightening, thighs still a bit shaky. harry's guiding your hips expertly, groaning in pleasure watching your ass dip in and out of the water onto his lap. his head is resting against the edge of the tub, mind blank, solely focused on your pleasure and his.

"fuck, harry," you whimper again, rolling your hips around on his cock before thrusting it inside you again. harry wishes you could see just how sexy you look from this angle, your hair flowing down your back, your skin glistening in the candlelight, the water droplets running down your hips, it's enough to make him resist the urge to finish already.

"you're so perfect," harry groans. he smacks your ass, slapping the water with it, causing you to squeal and quicken your pace. the same filthy moans are still spilling from your mouth, hardly able to contain yourself in this situation. something about using the time meant to help each other clean up to only continue fucking makes you feel so dirty, so used, and it's driving you crazy.

harry suddenly stops you, much to your disappointment, and tells you to trust him. "just get out and stand up," he says.

you do as he says, and eventually harry has you bent over the bathroom counter, barely lit by the candles behind you. he slowly returns his cock inside of you, your bodies dripping water everywhere.

as harry's thrusts become more consistent, one hand grabs for your shoulder and the other for your damp hair. he forces your face to look in the mirror, your eyes barely open from the pleasure. "watch," he commands. your eyes shot open at his voice, tracing the shape of your shadows in the mirror in front of your face.

harry loses himself in you, his head rolling back in pleasure hearing you struggle to take his cock for a second time. you're trying to moan, say anything at all, but your voice is incomprehensible as harry only becomes rougher with you.

"god damn it, [y/n]," harry spits out, his voice clearly exhausted. his hands travel back to your tits, pulling you back up into him as he continues pounding into you from behind. you're a mess in his hands as they roughly grope your tits.

"look at you," harry growls into your neck, looking into the mirror just in front of you as his gaze meets yours. "so fucking sexy,"

your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter for balance, your legs getting more and more weak by the second. harry pushes you further over the counter, his moans becoming urgent.

"i'm gonna fill you up because you're fucking mine, yeah? look at this perfect body of yours," harry's voice strains, his sweaty chest against your back as he forces you to continue watching yourself get pounded in the mirror, one arm over your chest and the other holding your hips. the light of the candles is just enough to let you see harry's dark expression. "fucking perfect, just for me,"

you haven't been able to get a single word out, your mind spinning as harry only gets more and more desperate, his pace getting sloppy.

"fuck, baby, just be good for me and let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hm? let me show you what's mine,"

you're already starting to cum just from harry's words. the overwhelming pleasure racks your body harshly as harry continues to use you for himself. shaking, barely able to stand without his help, your voice is breaking as you cry out in ecstasy for the third time just this morning.

harry's barely able to last much longer. his thrusts have slowed to uneven, jerky motion as he feels his cum spilling deep inside you. breathy moans and aching bodies, harry rests against you with your body limp against the counter. he lifts his head from your neck to kiss your skin softly, everywhere, slowly helping guide you back to the tub for a second time. your legs are weaker than before and you're barely able to contribute as harry leans you into the water, still kissing your damp skin.

"i love you, i love you," he's mumbling between kisses.

you're too weak and dizzy to respond in any way, still trying to catch your breath as harry begins cleaning your skin. he rubs a soft rag along your chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms. the whole time he's complimenting you lovingly, a gentle touch and warm gaze upon your tired face.

after washing himself, harry also dries you off, carrying you back to bed before getting you both dressed in comfortable, warm pajamas. "just rest for today, my love," he told you as he laid you down. you reach for his hands. "stay?"

harry smiles. you didn't have to ask, it was literally his bed too, but he admires how soft and innocent you are in this moment. though he loves to be rough with you like he just was, there's nothing more special in the world to him than the gentleness between you two. his whole life has been nothing but challenges, setbacks, problems, and you're everything but. he just wants to be soft and gentle with you.

harry climbs under the sheets, his body also succumbing to the ache and exhaustion. he wraps himself around you, already falling asleep against his chest. harry joins not long after, finally getting his much needed sleep without the threat of his nightmares.

a few weeks later it's just a bit warmer out than it has been, so you and harry immediately started the day doing outdoor chores while you could. harry was chopping wood as you cleaned up around the cottage garden. it was too cold most of the year to grow much of anything out of it, but you still liked to keep it manageable for the smaller animals that stopped by to look around.

you also took the time to admire harry, shirtless, sweaty, groaning each time he drops the ax into another cut of firewood. his body had become well built from all the manual labor he's been doing lately, carrying entire trunks or stumps of trees out of the forest, lifting heavy bags of mulch and dirt for you, digging out the flower bed around the cottage, he was more muscular and toned than you'd ever seen him. it never mattered what harry's body looked like to you, you always found him attractive no matter what, but you couldn't deny that his toned back and broad shoulders got you more worked up than usual lately.

it was nice getting to work on the home with each other, a comfortable silence filling the day broken by the occasional question, favor, kiss, or compliment. it was peaceful, this routine you both had, and it felt so natural to work with each other. you hardly had to communicate your ideas because you were often thinking the same things.

tea in the morning, chores once the sun is out, taking a dip in the ocean at sunset, and having a warm home cooked dinner in the dark, the cottage lit from within from candles and the fireplace. it was perfect. for both of you.

and, of course, the sex had never slowed down as well.

you had both joked at the beginning of your move that you didn't think you could ever stop yourselves now that you were isolated from the world, but that's exactly what ended up happening. neither of your desires could be relieved no matter how many times you tried. not that you wanted them to go away by any means, it was just overwhelming, the feral need to spend hours each day pleasuring each other in every way possible. it was always passionate and desperate for more, never becoming repetitive or any less exciting. it was exactly what you both needed and wanted all the time.

as the sun was setting for the day, you and harry sat together and shared an orange you had gotten at the market just a few miles away earlier that week. you were lucky to be close enough to something that offered fresh produce, even in the colder parts of the year. harry watched the waves crashing against the sand, his knees to his chest as you both steady yourself on a large rock between the cottage and the water.

"thank you," harry says softly. you look over at him, his hands now empty as he's swallowing the last of his orange slices. you finish yours as well. "of course," you respond.

harry shakes his head. "no. really. thank you, [y/n], for everything." he says, still watching the sea. you blush, giving him a soft smile before turning to watch it as well. "i'm finally, really, truly happy. for the first time in my life, i feel at peace." harry explains, still speaking softly just over the crashing waves.

you could cry just from harry's words. all you've ever wanted was for him to feel safe. he's had such a difficult start in life and didn't deserve what happened to him, or what he was forced to do. he deserved simplicity. a normal life in a normal home doing normal chores. he deserved to be happy.

overcome with love, you stand from the rock and grab harry's hand, pulling him with you. he silently follows you down the beach. once you're a few yards away from the shore, you pull down the straps of the dress you had been working in off your shoulders, letting the material slide right off your body and onto the sand as you continue heading towards the water.

you turn to look at harry, and he's stunned at how beautiful you are. the shape of your body against the warm sunset over the water, nothing but a pair of panties covering your sweaty skin. your hair was flowing in the salty breeze of the ocean, hands reaching for his as your feet began to touch the water.

harry's ripped and dirty blue jeans come off as well as his glasses, leaving them behind on the sand as he grabs for your hand. you walk into the water together, slightly shivering from the lingering chill beneath the warm surface, but quickly adjusting to the temperature. harry's only admiring you, like he always does, as you dip your head under the water and come up, pushing the hair out of your face.

harry does the same, wiping his face of the sweat and dirt that's collected over the work day with the salty water. this has become one of his favorite parts of your routine together, cooling off in the ocean after a long day. not just to wash off the sweat and stress of the day, but also to admire you in all your glory under the shining sun.

harry wastes no time reaching for you, pulling you into him as you float in his grasp. he holds you for a moment, mesmerized by the light in your eyes, a smile permanently fixed on his face. "my beautiful girl," he reminds you, his forehead leaning against yours. you hum, reaching your hands to his neck as you pull him in for a heated kiss.

you've had sex in the ocean a few times now, and it's quickly become one of your favorites. it's the ultimate form of freedom being naked together making love in the gentle waves, harry holding you around his waist as he hugs your body into his.

most nights you're both too tired from working to go further than sloppy making out and feeling each other up; but other nights, like tonight, you're both too desperate to care if it hurts.

as harry continues kissing you he carries you back to the shore, your legs still around his waist as he lays you down onto the sand. the water just barely washes over harry's legs as it meets the shoreline. you relax into the warm sand beneath you, harry already pulling your panties off. you giggle at his eagerness. he smirks, his hands gripping your waist hungrily.

you can see harry's erection through his soaking wet boxers barely hanging off his hips. just as eagerly, you pull them down for him as he kicks them to the side.

harry easily slides his cock inside of you, letting out a struggled sigh of relief at the feeling. no matter what's going on around him, harry will always feel perfectly in place when he's inside of you.

your hands are tangled in his wet hair, gripping tighter as he bottoms out. he moans desperately, leaning in for another kiss. his pace evens out to a familiar rhythm, your body wrapping around him as he fucks you into the wet sand. the warm sunset is perfectly met with the chilly breeze of the water that's still waving over both of you gently. each time it gives you shivers, your body arching into harry's from the shocking feeling.

harry's not sure if he's ever wanted to finish this quickly before. it was so perfect, this moment, the sun, the waves, you. he just couldn't believe this was his life. making love to the most beautiful girl in the world where the land meets the sea. he never thought life could be this simple and beautiful, but with you it was effortless.

he pulled away from the kiss to simply look at you, eyes drooping, cheeks blushing, eyebrows pinched together in desperation. he smiled. "i love you," he says so simply, his thrusts beginning to stutter against you. you smile back, eyes still half open. "love you, harry, so much," you manage to say between heavy breaths.

you pull him back in for a kiss, and feel his body weaken on top of you, leaning on his elbows for support in the uneven sand. "baby, baby," he tries to warn you, but you just continue kissing him and wrap your legs back around his waist, pulling him deeper into your pussy.

he completely unravels, pumping his cum inside you as he cries against your lips. "fuck," he keeps groaning in a broken voice. you can feel yourself letting go as well, your thighs squeezing around harry's waist as the water crashes into your body again, making you shake even more.

you both enjoy the moments after your climaxes together, letting the water continue to run over you as the sun's light falls below the horizon. harry, still inside you, his body resting on top of yours, tells you he loves you in the softest, sleepiest voice he can manage.

you kiss his head, reminding him how much you love him.

you both eventually sit up, covered in sand, and chuckle to each other about it. harry invites you back into the water where he washes you off, giving you a loving kiss under the dim sky.

he continues holding you there in the gentle waves, the emerging stars lighting the sky above you. he's a bit cold now, but he couldn't be more warm inside. harry just loves you and the little life you've built with him here on the sea. he feels happy, loved, and completely at peace in the ocean with you in his arms.

1K notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 7 months ago

Text

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

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bbsmuts · 7 months ago

Text

Summer Getaway ft. EVERGLOW Yiren

A/N: This is a pitch I got from a friend outside of Tumblr, and it took me a long time to write since I’ve been working and planning the wedding, sorry about that. I have no doubt that this will become second-to if not more popular than Field Trip. I don’t have a lot to say about it so as not to spoil anything, so here we go.

-상훈

Length: 7.33k

Possible TW: Spanking, dom/sub kink

Tags: Spanking, choking, domination, dom/sub kink, drunk sex, sir kink

It had been a long senior year at Hanyang University. Very, very long.

With a major in psychology, a minor in health studies, and a hopeless career path, classes had been hard. I hadn’t even had my best friend, Yiren, in classes with me.

Yiren and I were more than friends. We had been dating for a little more than nine months, but she was still my best friend. She was not only exactly the type of girl I was interested in, but the exact type of friend I wanted to keep close. It had been with great disappointment that I had found out that my girlfriend would not be in classes with me at the beginning of the year. She would have been the only way psychology would be in any way interesting.

But now the year was over. A buddy of mine had offered me and Yiren his mountain cabin for the summer. He wasn’t going to be using it, he and his family were on vacation, so he would be touring Europe with his parents and sister.

The cabin, we found out when we arrived there, was a palatial, stone brick château with three stories and a balcony on the second. The balcony overhung the door, two large stone pillars supporting the structure. It had an very antiquated feel to it, though the sound structure still held up. My friend had told me it was over 200 years old, which I believed from the look of it. Whether it was 2 years old or 2000 though, I was happy to be here.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it oppa?” Yiren asked, arms wrapped around my arm, as we stood there and surveyed the cabin.

“Yeah, it does. Old, but very nice.”

“Three stories…wow.” She marveled at the sheer height of the place. “That's more than my house has. Come on, let's go inside.”

I slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to reveal the interior.

It gave a very cozy, log-cabin-ish vibe. The blinds were shut, allowing very little daylight in. The lamps had turned on the moment we entered, dimming slightly once we shut the door. Plush rugs covered just about every square inch of the vast living room, where soft chintz armchairs and smooth leather couches sat, pillows arranged invitingly. The fireplace could have allowed three grown men ample sitting space, and the overhanging limestone mantle was decorated with ornate wood carvings. Mounted on the wall just above the mantle was the biggest TV I had ever seen, at least 85 inches across.

To the left of the fireplace was a bathroom, through the open door of which I caught a glimpse of a gold-rimmed mirror.

The rather titanic kitchen was a chef’s dream; the walls were bedecked with cabinets, drawers, and shelves full of cooking equipment. Two large ovens with stovetops sat alongside a dishwasher, and on top of its counter were a couple of microwave ovens. A kettle, coffee maker, waffle iron, iron griddle, and a shelf of teas, coffees, hot chocolates and various other drink mixes sat along another. Four more long shelves along the opposite wall held just about every kind of alcohol I could have asked for; bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, various liqueurs (fruit flavors like coconut and orange), tequila, port, Hennessy, and margarita sat assorted on them. Another, smaller shelf held cooking sherry, brandy, and bourbon. A wine rack nearby held several bottles and, I was surprised to see, one bottle each of Petrus 2012 (costs about $30k in real life), Armand Rousseau Chambertin Grand Cru ($19k), Versos Amontillado ($13k) and Vieux Chateau Certan Pomerol ($6k).

“Wow,” I said, taking out the Petrus and examining it. “I guess his family is richer than we thought.”

“What makes you say that?” Yiren asked while looking at the coconut liqueur.

“The fact that they have a bottle of wine in here that costs about thirty thousand dollars, and a few other expensive ones.”

“Huh, make sense.”

After looking into the pantry, which was the size of a walk-in closet and had enough food to feed a small town, we made our way to the staircase to upstairs. Six bedrooms took up this floor. We went straight to the master, which was as large as a neighborhood cul-de-sac.

The bed’s size could be compared to that of a midieval portcullis, with a deluxe king size mattress and nightstands on either side. A few dozen pillows were laid delicately across it, each with its own gold-laced pillowcase. An intricately carved wooden frame with a canopy structure and drapes held up the mattress. A pair of French doors were built in on the opposite wall from the door, which led out to the balcony, which spanned about twenty feet. Gorgeous scenery was what I laid my eyes on when I looked through the doors, a great view of the surrounding mountains and forest. The bathroom was off to the left from the entrance and Yiren made a beeline for it the moment we entered the room.

I followed her inside and was stunned. The same gold-framed mirror stretched across the wall, with three sinks and a vanity under it. White LEDs rimmed it, lighting up the bathroom when Yiren walked in.

“Oooh!” She squealed, looking around excitedly. I knew well by this point that the bathroom was her favorite and most valued part of a house, so it was always what she looked at with the most judgement. But she found nothing to criticize about this one, and looked very pleased to have access to it for the next two months.

“Like it?” I inquired, amused at her expression. “I’d say it’s pretty impressive.”

“Tell your friend I love it!” She said, positively radiating joy and excitement. “This is amazing!”

She ran to me and hugged me, then went to look around again.

I took a look into one of the drawers below the mirror and saw a vast array of hair and skin care products, no wonder my friend had good skin and hair.

Beyond the mirror space, there was the tub, which she was already scrutinizing. It held the same old feel with the weathered stone slabs making up the rim, but the pristinely white jacuzzi tub looked like it had been crafted yesterday. Bordering the bathtub was a large glass shower, with a rainfall showerhead on the ceiling and a nozzle clipped to the wall just below it, with multiple different kinds of shampoo, body wash, shower gel, and conditioner. A closet was off to the left of the door into the room, and after appraising the tub and shower we made our way to it. It was as big as the kitchen downstairs, and that was saying something. Multiple racks full of clothes were set into their pole grooves, and several racks of shoes rested on the floor. They weren’t ours, so we didn’t mess with them.

The floor above that was just one enormous game room. Pool, air hockey, foosball, mini golf, and several others were strewn around. A walled-off area seemed to be designated to archery and airsoft target practice, something I approved of. Another bathroom was at the far end, something I didn’t need to explore again. After looking around for a bit, we went back to my car to unload our baggage.

The cabin was about ten miles from any kind of civilization, which made for a nice and secluded area for a summer getaway, but it would be a bit of a pain in the ass driving back and forth through the unpaved roadway to the nearest town. But we had brought food, and there was food in the house, so we were fine for the time being.

“Oppa?”

I heard Yiren’s voice call from upstairs a while later.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Are you up for a hike? I hear they have great trails up here.”

“Sure, I’m down.”

I got up off the couch and went up there to see her.

“You did bring the hiking boots, didn’t you?” She asked, seeing me upstairs.

“Yes, of course. We can’t go to a mountain lodge without hiking boots.”

“True. Hold on for a minute, I have to change.”

She disappeared into the master bedroom and the sounds of rustling clothes could be heard from inside. I leaned my head over a bit to see past the doorway and found her raised eyebrows staring back at me while she slipped off her jeans, taking her panties with them.

“Peeping, oppa?” Her playful voice sounded as she turned away to her bag, and I would have challenged a Buckingham Palace guard not to look as she bent over slightly to retrieve her leggings.

I walked slowly into the room where she was rummaging in her suitcase and stopped behind her as she straightened up, leggings in hand, and placed my hands on her waist. She leaned backwards into my touch and sighed as I stroked her hips.

“Oppa, don’t tease me…”

I paid this no attention and moved my hands lower, sliding my palms over her naked thighs.

“Stop it, we’re going to hike, wait until later.”

Reluctantly, I paid her some heed and went to the dresser to get my bag and keys while she got dressed. And thus, a few short minutes of driving later, we arrived at the entrance to the trail.

…

The trail was nice and peaceful, with flat paths and beautiful scenery. It was rather tranquil, with the occasional squirrel or chipmunk darting across the rocky path in front of us. But of course, Yiren couldn’t let me enjoy the little things like that, she had to wear something skintight on both halves, and had to walk in front of me, which distracted me from any of the scenery.

So it was with slightly exerted legs and a straining bulge that I completed the trail, a fact Yiren was perfectly aware of.

Mind almost numb with lust by the time we got back into the care due to her deliberately dropping her phone and bending over to pick it up, I started the engine of my car and drove away toward the cabin.

I was again surprised by its immense size even though I had seen it an hour previously. We walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, and that was as much time as Yiren needed to latch onto me the moment I closed the door.

I turned around from the door and she was instantly there, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me into a deep kiss. A moan sounded from her as my tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and I pulled her by the hips closer, so she could feel the bulge in my jeans. She started grinding herself against it, still kissing me with intense passion.

I half-carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and set her down on the mattress, where she laid on her back with her legs spread enticingly, eyes glittering with lust.

After shutting the drapes around the bed, I removed my shirt and saw her bite her lip at the sight of me shirtless, a fact I took heed of and tossed my shirt elsewhere, settling my hips between her thighs. I made sure she could acutely feel the tent in my pants against her, and she definitely did feel it.

Her breaths became shorter and more frequent, a sure sign of growing neediness. Her hips started moving of their own accord, grinding up against me. I felt this and got off her.

I hooked my thumbs under the waistbands of my jeans and boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing my cock from its denim prison, while she quickly removed her own clothes in my peripheral vision. She looked at me once I straightened up, bit her lip again, and her hand sneaked along her waist towards her pussy.

I was amazed for the millionth time by the fact that she had a body like a Greek goddess. To verbally describe the intensity of the lust her body induced would have been impossible.

I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, tearing it away from her leaking pussy, replacing the fingers with my tongue.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot to my head and pulled, and she gave a short cry every time my tongue penetrated her. I targeted the spots I knew would pleasure her the most.

“Yes, fuck!” Her mouth was wide open and she was taking shallow breaths, giving short moans and gasps on the exhale. “Yes, don’t stop oppa it feels so good!”

I pressed by thumb to her clit while I continued the circular swiping motion with my tongue, which was quite effective to say the least. Her cries became sharper, her breaths more shallow, all building up to her climax.

“I’m gonna cum oppa, keep going, I’m cumming! AHH!”

How turned on I was could not have been described in words as her juices gushed out, into my mouth, and over my face. Her hands trembled as they clutched at my hair, and she had a small out-of-body experience as the pleasure of a second orgasm briefly took her to another realm of consciousness. I was in heaven right along with her, nothing was more satisfying that pleasuring her to an orgasm.

When she came back to earth I had gotten up, dried my face, and laid down on the bed beside her. The section of sheet under her lower half was soaked, as were her thighs and pussy. Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, her chest heaved while her extremities still trembled.

“Oppa…”

She had turned her head towards me and I could almost see the hearts in her eyes as she looked at me.

“That was…so good…”

She spoke each phrase between breaths. If she thought what I had just done effortlessly was good, she had yet to feel what would happen when I was pounding her and completely abandoning any restraint.

I turned myself towards her and put my arms around her, though the effect was kind of ruined by my stiff cock poking her in the thigh, which made her giggle. She turned over and maneuvered down between my legs, placing her hands on my thighs as she stared fixedly at my length like a lion looks at its dinner, and I could tell she was about to go to town.

“I’m really hungry oppa,” she purred deviously, each word laced with teasing, while her hands performed slow strokes over my length, “I think I need to be fed, hmm?”

I took the cue and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips down over my cock, and then everything else disappeared. Her lips parted and then slid smoothly over my shaft, a fresh coat of saliva washing over me.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, unable to contain the immediate pleasure that filled me. “Fuck Yiren, that feels amazing!”

Each bob of her head made its way closer to my base, and she got a little more than three quarters before she started gagging. She moaned, gasped, gagged, and choked, but she didn’t give herself a break, even for a moment. She was hungry, and I was the only thing that could sate her appetite. Hearing my moans, she upped her speed. Her tongue slid over the underside of my cock, stretching out to flick my balls, while she forced her own head further down on me. My entire length was lodged inside her mouth and throat, and I felt myself very quickly nearing a climax.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I panted, getting even more turned on by her moans and small ‘mmm’s of satisfaction. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat, keep doing that!”

She took heed of this and slid her head all the way down my cock once more and held there, and with an almighty groan and a bed-rattling thrust of my hips I buried myself in her throat and spurted my load down it, a fact she was very pleased with. She bobbed her head rapidly, throating my cock a final few times and swallowing every single drop. And she couldn’t resist holding her head down on my now hypersensitive rod for another few seconds, simply loving the feeling of having her throat penetrated.

I lost count of the seconds she held herself there, I wasn’t really paying attention. Twenty, thirty, forty, somewhere around forty-five I lost count, and then she pulled up, dislodging me from her mouth and gasping for some much-needed oxygen, though her face showed pure enjoyment.

She dragged herself up the bed and settled next to me, sighing contentedly.

“I love you oppa.”

I drew her closer under the thoroughly stained blanket with one arm, using the other to run my fingers through her hair.

“I love you too, Yiren. Always.”

I could practically hear her purring as the warmth from my body emanated off me, and she snuggled in close, planting a small kiss on my jaw. I turned my head to receive and respond to her second kiss, and put my hand around her head.

Before I knew it, she was on top of me and we were kissing passionately, soft moans leaving her mouth as our tongues met. I found my cock returning to full life, and she most assuredly did, since her already-wet pussy was handily positioned right above it.

I flipped her over and pressed myself down on her. My tip rubbed against her sensitive folds, causing her to give tiny sighs of pleasure.

And then I pushed into her tight warmth. The insane tightness of her walls squeezing every part of my shaft was making me see stars, and there was quite a lot of resistance as I determinedly pushed inside her.

She moaned as I bottomed out inside her, my tip brushing spots inside her that I didn’t even know existed at that depth.

“Fuck me oppa.”

That was my cue to begin my thrusts, quickly increasing the speed and intensity of them. I landed a slap on her jiggling ass and immediately her pussy clenched around me and she cried out. I timed my spanks with each thrust of my hips, and her various obscenities also fell in rhythm.

“Oh - god - fuck - yes!” She said, each word coming out in time with the spanks. “Feels - so - good - fuck!”

I took her ponytail in my hand and pulled back, forcing her face up, her moans becoming higher in pitch at my pulling. Her back bent up so she was almost kneeling as I fucked her, and with my other hand I paused the spanks and reached around to squeeze her breasts, only heightening her arousal. Her hands gripped the hand caressing her chest.

“Please oppa, fuck me harder,” Yiren half-whispered, which I knew to be a sign that she was nearing an orgasm. “Your cock is so deep in me, it feels so good!”

I did as she asked and fucked her harder, abandoning all restraint as I slammed my hips into hers, the sounds of skin on skin getting louder as my hips met her ass. It was becoming difficult to resist the hypnotic jiggle of her ass and the way her pussy was exquisitely gripping my cock, massaging as I pistoned in and out. I was about to cum, as I realized it, and there was nothing I could do about that now.

And then, before I knew it:

“So fucking good, yes! Fuck oppa I’m cumming, FUCK!”

“Shit, I’m cumming as well, fucking take it all!”

We met our orgasms at the same time, sharing that moment of bliss together. Her juices splattered my legs as they sprayed out, accompanied by her scream of pleasure, always reserved for just such a moment of satisfaction. The feeling was pervading up my entire body, immense pleasure before my actual release. Yiren gasped twice and moaned quietly at the deluge of hot cum that flooded her tight pussy. I kept fucking her at a slower pace, now the only things audible were the wet slaps of our skin and her occasional murmured expressions, as she rested somewhere between this bed and heaven itself.

“So good…feels so…feels so good…ohh yes just like that…”

I got the impression from what she was saying that she was very near unconsciousness. It wouldn’t surprise me, since she had just had a very intense orgasm. I pulled out of her with a lewd squelch and a large quantity of cum rushed out of her.

“Ahhh…ohh yes…I love you oppa…”

I settled in front of her as she flopped over onto her side, breathing very heavily. I rubbed her back as she moved close, nimbly stroking all the spots I knew she loved, and she purred into my neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

…

I got up a while later, put on my clothes, and after giving the half-asleep Yiren a kiss, I went up to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was a quality that especially attracted her to me, the fact that I could cook, and well. She always said that a man who could cook was a man who wouldn’t have trouble finding women.

Jjajangmyeon was a personal favorite of both of ours, and so it was what I started making. I was nearly finished when the sound of the bedroom door opening sounded behind me and she entered the room wrapped in a blanket, yawning.

“Did you sleep?” I asked, industriously stirring the noodles.

“Yes.” She yawned again. “For a little bit.”

“Good,” I replied, “because you’re not going to be doing much of it tonight.”

She giggled and peered into the pot.

“Jjajangmyeon?”

“Indeed.” I put the spatula down and turned to her. “Just how we both like it.”

She hugged me, the top of her head barely brushing my chin.

“Aww oppa you didn’t have to, I could have done it.”

I put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Yiren hugged me tighter and buried her face in my shirt, and I could feel her smile against my chest.

“I love it when you do this.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I smiled as well.

“I do it all the time, you’d think some of the novelty would be lost.

She snorted. “Well, it hasn’t.”

I turned back to the wok and stirred my stir fry, my arm still around her shoulders.

“What do you say we pop open some of that Hennessy after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. That stuff hits hard, though.”

“Precisely.” I said. “We might not even have to use a lot.”

“That looks like it’s done.” She said, nodding at the pot of noodles.

“I’m aware.” I replied. “Would you get out the bowls?”

She got out the bowls and two pairs of chopsticks as I turned off the fire on the stovetop. I dragged the noodles out of the pot and into the bowls and spooned the sauce onto them. She took them to the table and set up two chairs across from each other while I got out a bottle of choice Pinot Noir from the rack along with two glasses.

“Wow, you really are trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Not really, but I’m not trying not to, if you catch my drift.”

She just smirked, absolutely catching my drift and knowing the outcome. I sat down after pouring the wine and setting the glasses down in our places.

Dinner passed quickly. The bowls had been cleared fairly quickly. I had sipped my wine away already, but Yiren always left hers to sit out for a while, the reason for which I never knew.

By the time she picked her glass back up I had poured myself some water as a beforehand countermeasure to the many measures of Hennessy we would be sharing.

While I was thinking about it I got up and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy, setting it down on the table.

“Cheers,” she said happily, raising her glass. I raised mine and then drank from it as she followed suit.

“Good choice.” She said, after a moment of consideration. “Very nice hints of different flavors.”

“I know,” I said, taking another mouthful of water. “Pinot Noir is always good. But my friend imports his wine from places France and Spain and Italy, places which do wine the right way.”

“Speaking of your friend, where is he on vacation?”

“In Switzerland right now, but in a few days he’ll be somewhere else in Europe, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

She took another small sip of wine before speaking again.

“Well, I can truthfully say that there’s no place I’d rather be then right here with you.”

She leaned across the small table and poked me in the chest, a playful smile gracing her lips. I caught her hand before she could draw it away and pulled her into a kiss. Her body seemed to relax into it, and a slightly muffled sigh was audible. When we broke the kiss off and sat back down, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with desire.

“Damn, we haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already losing it.”

Yiren blushed harder at my sentence. She said nothing, but something changed in her expression. She got up from her seat, abandoning her wine, and strode around the table to me. The next thing I knew, she was sitting in my lap, hands pulling my face towards hers. She moaned as her lips locked with mine, tongue entering my mouth, meeting with my own.

She pulled away, looking at me with the dim-ish light dancing in her eyes, a deep blush spread across her cheeks.

“How about that Hennessy now, huh?” She said.

I reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, as she turned to the side. I took a healthy swig of it myself before reaching for the shotglasses. The alcohol burned in my throat as it went down and I took a deep breath in.

We both downed a shot together. She coughed and winced as she swallowed, but nodded when I looked concernedly at her.

"I'm alright."

She reached for her second shot and swallowed it with me.

"How quick does this stuff kick in?" She asked as the glasses were once again refilled.

"Quickly."

After successfully downing three shots and of the liquor, we sat back and waited on the couch. I had made the mistake of impatience while drinking once before, and it was not going to happen again.

And then it hit.

And when it hit, it hit hard.

"Whoa," I slurred as the room started spinning before my eyes, "Yiren, you feeling it?"

She gave a tipsy giggle and fell forward, still laughing.

"I dunno, I've never been drunk bfore..."

Through the haze of drunken stupor I was seeing, I looked down and saw her ass, so sexy and perfectly positioned...she was even bent over my lap, too...I had no chance of resisting the urge.

"Ah!" She yelped as I slapped her ass, then giggled again. "Oppa..."

"More..."

I gladly complied, landing more punishing smacks on her ass. With each spank she tensed and gave a small, cute cry.

Normally my dominant side stayed at a minimum, but I had to admit to myself that in my drunk state it was starting to take over my brain. I found myself increasing the intensity of my smacks and taking pleasure in it, causing her cries to rise in volume quickly.

"Nngh yes, keep spanking me oppa!" She whimpered, swiftly approaching her peak. "Ah! Fuck yes, keep doing that!"

I kept spanking her and reached around to caress her breast with my other hand. Her moans kept building until finally she orgasmed with a squeal, the crotch of her shorts becoming very wet.

Yiren took quick, shallow breaths to calm down after cumming, and when she had sufficiently recovered she rolled over on my legs to face me.

"That was fun oppa, we should go to the bedroom."

I blinked hard. "Shit, I dunno if I can walk."

She scoffed. "Come on, let's go."

I clumsily got up off the couch and weaved my way up the stairs and to the bedroom, stumbling three times on the way there. I dimmed the lights as I entered, then fell forward onto the bed, rolling over and scooting up to let my head rest on the pillow. My shirt was going to be an unnecessary accessory once she got up here, so I removed it and tossed it aside.

She entered the bed and slid the drapes shut behind her, wearing only her soaked shorts, panties, and a bra. I was already hard from the light spanking I had given her, but the mere sight of her sexy, half-naked body was enough to double my stiffness.

She clambered across the bed and straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it only for a second, then gripped her hips and rolled over, so I was on top.

I kissed her more aggressively now, pressing my tongue against her lips to gain entry. She eventually gave in, but we both knew she was tantalizing herself by holding out, she wanted me. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure.

I broke off the kiss and left her blushing and panting, eyes sparkling.

"God, you're so sexy when you're drunk." She murmured to me, holding my face with both hands.

"Really?" I said, locking eyes with her. "Then maybe I should do it more often."

Normally and drunkenly, Yiren's submissive side stayed at a minimum. It balanced with her enjoyment of being in control for a pretty neutral attitude. But I could see in her deep brown eyes a need. Whether she could feel it or not, I could tell that she needed to be dominated, badly.

"Hello?" Her voice said from a long way off, the sound trying desperately to be heard over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. "You gonna do something? Or will I have to do it myself?"

She was baiting me, and I knew it. Trying to spur me into fucking her. But it wasn't going to happen yet.

"Yeah, I'm gonna do something." I growled. "And you're gonna take it, like it or not."

A shudder ran through her at my words, but she maintained her cocky, playful attitude.

"Ooh, he's getting feisty. Someone's a little drunk."

I could feel annoyance rising at her words, which was exactly what she wanted, of course. She observed me with satisfaction.

"Okay, that's it." I got off her, opened the drapes, and stood up, removing my jeans and boxers. She automatically got off the bed and knelt in front of me as I sat on the edge of it, knowing my intention. I wasted no time in grabbing her hair and forming it into a ponytail in my hand, grasping none too lightly. She gasped at my sudden roughness, and I used the opportunity of her mouth already being open to shove my cock into it.

She choked as my tip poked the back of her throat, but didn't resist as I slowly pushed further in, bringing her face to the base. She gagged, and I pulled her head back by the ponytail before slamming my hips into it again, driving my length down her throat. Over and over I brought her face back before plunging it back down, spearing her throat with my cock.

Tears gathered in her eyes when she choked, gagging obscenely on my dick. After a bit she started moving by herself, her neck on autopilot, ramming her face into my crotch. Saliva spilled down her face and dripped off her messy chin to her bra-clad breasts below. Light mascara streaks tracked down her face, joining the mess at her lips.

Yiren brought her head down one more time and held it there for a second, a choking sound resounding, before pulling off, gasping and breathing heavily. She looked at me, panting, and I felt the promise of an orgasm drifting away.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I want you to cum inside me."

I reached forward and lifted her onto the bed, setting her down none too gently on her back. I held my hand on her throat, choking her, not enough to cause damage.

She caught her breath at the rough treatment, clearly turned on. But I wasn't going to hold off on that domination.

"You want?" I breathed into her face, her pupils dilating in arousal. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge."

She said nothing, but I could see a subtle change in her expression. I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties and pulled them over her slender legs and off her feet. Her pussy was already soaked and shining with arousal.

Yiren, still keeping up her cocky demeanor, gave a huge fake yawn and smirked cheekily. I narrowed my eyes and then reached up and tore the bra off her, making her yelp. However overweening she was acting, I could see in her face a desire to be dominated. And that was a desire I was more than willing to satisfy.

I crawled forward, lifted her legs up, and sheathed myself to the root inside her tight, wet pussy. "Fuck!" She cried out as I pushed into her. She moaned and gasped when I bottomed out inside her, firmly prodding her cervix. Her quick, high-pitched breaths heightened my arousal.

My brain was far too cloudy to control my desire, so my thrusts were fast and rough. I relentlessly pounded her, not holding back a bit and not sorry at all. I gave her ass quick smacks randomly every few thrusts, making her yelp every single time.

Her brows contracted and turned up, and her mouth stayed slightly open, her face falling into that angelic expression of bliss that never failed to make me shiver in pleasure myself.

"Oh - fuck - yes - harder - please!" She whimpered in time with my strokes. I lowered my face to her ear.

"Now remind me," I growled, her moans filling my own ears, "who's in charge?"

She barely managed to get the words out inbetween her cries. "You oppa! You're in charge! I belong to you!"

I gave her ass a hard slap, somewhat dissatisfied with her answer. "Then say it right, slut."

"I'm yours, sir!" She cried again, "I belong to you only!"

"Good girl." I said in a low voice, and I felt her shiver under me. I slowed my thrusts to a calmer pace, more to tantalize her than anything else. She was near an orgasm, I could tell, so I kept the strokes at a steady pace with a lot of force.

"Sir, please," She begged, her juices leaking out around me, clearly turned on by my dominance, "Fuck me harder, make me cum for you." Cleverly worded so as to make it like this was for me, not for her. I was not, even in my drunk-as-fuck state, going to fall for that.

"Why would I do that?" I said to her dismay, evilly grinning. "You were such a bad girl earlier, why should I reward you?"

"I'm sorry, sir!" She said breathlessly, her eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry I was bad! Please, sir, fuck me and make me cum!"

I couldn't really help but give in, since my libido was screaming at me. So I picked up the pace and resumed my uncontrolled plowing of her tight cunt, the resistance smoothed somewhat by the enormous amounts of slick she was producing.

With every subsequent thrust, her moans became louder snd her words dirtier as I brought her nearer to her peak.

"Mmhh yes sir, fuck me harder! It's so good, fuck! I'm gonna cum for you sir!"

I pushed myself up from my elbows and held a hand to her neck, pushing down just enough to make her enjoy it. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, pupils dilated.

"Shut the fuck up and take it, slut," I said, groaning despite myself.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, moaning, as I pushed deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

She wasn't lying. Her voice died momentarily as her eyes rolled into her head and she bucked her hips up into me, a gush of cum spraying my abdomen. She found her voice after a second, and let out a short, loud "ah", mouth open. Her hips continued their motion seemingly independent of her pleasure-addled brain.

Her moans subsided, and an idea came to me. I reluctantly pulled out of her, a lewd squelch sounding. She lay there, unmoving, eyes open and practically heart-pupiled. I walked to the french doors leading to thr balcony and opened them, a rush of cool night air sweeping over me.

Yiren lifted her head slightly at the sudden cool draft and pushed herself up with slightly trembling arms. I went back to the bed and lifted her off it easily, then set her down on her front on the soft white couch oustide. She gave a tiny gasp as a breeze of cool air moved over her naked pussy.

"Sir...

"Fuck me again..."

I was still rock hard despite the cool air, so I climbed onto the couch with her. Her head was laying sideways towards the dark scenery, her arms were stretched out in front of her, and her ass was sticking up in the air, perfectly positioned for me to fuck.

I slid my cock back into her wet heat, drawing a languid whimper from her mouth and clenching my jaw with a groan. I started off slow, with gentle, even thrusts, Yiren moaning softly beneath me.

"Mmm fuck yes you're so deep in me oppa..."

I kicked the pace up a little and started thrusting faster and harder, quickly turning her moans to cries as I pounded her tight pussy.

"Mmhh fuck! Pound me harder please sir! Pound my little pussy! So good, fuck, yes yes please harder! So fucking big inside me, yes! Nghh oh god yes, use me, fuck!"

Her words flicking every arousal switch in my brain to 'on', I went even faster, giving it everything I had to keep pushing into her. Beads of sweat formed at my hairline at the effort. Yiren was reduced to a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess, unable to form coherent words in her pleasure. I slapped her ass hard and she cried out.

"Please - sir - harder! Oh - yes - slap me - sir!"

I spanked her harder and she arched her back, a small yelp escaping her with every thrust I gave. Pleasure was building in my lower abdomen like resistance from a compressed spring, my abs and obliques tensing in preparation.

"Yes sir, give it to me! Fuck me harder please! Nghh yes, I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck, I'm cumming sir!"

"Fuck!" I groaned, as she gave a particularly sexy cry that sent shivers down my spine, "Yiren baby I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Yes - please - sir!" She managed through her high-pitched whines of bliss. This, combined with her usage of "sir", was all the initiative I needed to cum inside her.

"Oh my god yes, FUCK!" I almost roared, slamming my hips into hers one last time, burying my cock so deep inside her that it touched her cervix again and blasting her insides with hot cum. My release triggered hers, and she orgasmed again with a scream, spraying her cum out onto me.

I rolled over and off her, sliding out to let a large amount of cum come spilling out of her. She gave another soft moan and then rolled over to face me. I pulled her closer and her face and body were very hot despite the 6°C temperature outside.

"So good... oppa I love you..."

"I love you too, baby."

...

I must have fallen asleep, since when I awoke it was about 8 o'clock in the morning, judging by the sun's position. Yiren was snoozing peacefully beside me. As I slowly returned to a waking state I realized that I was stiffer than a wood plank again. Yiren's sleeping body was looking incredibly sexy, and I was entirely unable to control my sudden desire. I pulled her closer to me and pushed into her again, quietly groaning. She gave a soft moan in her sleep. I started very slowly, but even this was enough to stir her from her slumber. She breathed in deeply and shifted slightly, and I continued my thrusts, making her whine faintly. She steadily returned to conciousness, moaning more and tightening around me.

"Oppa?"

"Yes, baby," I groaned through gritted teeth, listening to her soft mewls of satisfaction. "Oh, fuck..."

Her eyes opened partially, looking lazily out at the trees, and then they closed and her eyebrows contracted upwards as I reached around and started rubbing her clit, making her gasp and whimper.

"A-ah...oh yes, k-keep doing that..."

Her head leaned back into my collarbone and I could smell vanilla in her soft hair. I grabbed her hips and slammed mine into them, driving my cock deep inside her and making her cry a loud "ah".

"Ohh yes yes yes, please keep going, I'm gonna fucking cum again, don't stop oppa!"

I reached and put my hand around her slim neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to give her the sensation I knew she liked. Her intonations of pleasure became unintelligible.

"Yes - fuck - harder - oppa - mmm yes - so good!"

"Fuck, you like that baby?" I squeezed her neck harder.

"Ah! Yes, sir! I love it! Fuck my little pussy harder! Use me! Your cock is so big, so deep inside me sir!"

"Yiren, I'm gonna cum baby," I gasped, moaning in her ear, and I felt her shiver in arousal under me.

"Cum inside me, sir," Yiren panted, arching her back into me. Her hands went to her own breasts, squeezing and massaging, pleasuring her to greater heights. Her eyes closed once more and she let out a shriek of pleasure and a long moan as sbe squirted on me again, arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as her mind whited out.

I briefly lost touch with reality as my own mind was flooded with sensation and I released inside her again. My body shuddered in pleasure and I let out a few swears through gritted teeth, thrusting my way through my orgasm. Yiren gasped and moaned throughout it, loving the feeling of warmth pouring into her.

My muscles relaxed, and I slipped out of her as we both settled down again, panting and satisfied. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Oppa?"

"Yiren, baby?"

She sighed contentedly. "I love you."

"I love you too." I replied, planting a row of kisses on her neck.

"You know what I think oppa?"

"What's that, babe?"

She turned over and faced me, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.

"I think it's gonna be a really fun summer."

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ironkettleteas · 1 year ago

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ironkettel · 2 years ago

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gladiatorcunt · 1 month ago

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- A BLACK RAM AND A BLACK EWE | XI.

unable are the loved to die for love is immortality

nay, it is deity. unable they that love - to die

for love reforms vitality into divinity.

cw: kinktober prompt (blood), vampire!aemond, reader has a vagina, reincarnated reader from my first kinktober w/ aemond, body horror & body horror fantasies involving his eye, “bride” mentioned but it’s relating to dracula, not quite modern times as in the immediate present 2024 but at least a millennium after house of the dragon (at least after dracula came out) , reader is intentionally silent, blood loss & hazy vibes you are just going through the motions,

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“What am I to you, sir?”

A fish to be gutted, you’ll be too empty to be whole without me. “The tide that turns in my favor.”

You wear your own freshly spilled blood like a new dress. A gift for being a wandering traveler and a curious historian, Westeros is a country with so much backstory and you’ve spent all your life only scratching the surface. It’s different from the Kings and Queens of the olden days obviously, though those titles remain in use loosely today. You have recurring dreams where you’re one of them, hanging off a prince's arm, tenderly pecking the corner of his dead jeweled eye, and waving to all the people below you.

Roars of an old gargantuan dragon haunt you, when your car engine won’t start, when your tea kettle freaks out, when the world is silent enough to be left alone with your thoughts. You’ve become obsessed because the only connection you feel is to a world that existed almost a thousand years ago.

Dracula, you’ve wandered into this crumbling red castle as a curious academic only to end up as a bride. Perhaps the locks are clicking into place, history repeated, you passed portraits of a royal who bears a more than striking resemblance to you before the decrepit creature looming in the shadows noticed it too.

“Your clothing is still in your chambers, I have each piece cleaned every moon.”

Aemond, your mind whispers you that name, trails bloody kisses from your weeping neck down to your weeping cunt, inhaling the iron musk simmering under your folds.

“Transcendent. It takes me back in time, my rose. So slack and willing too, of course my darling would not require being compelled to spread their legs for their husband.”

He stands upright, swiftly turning your around so your back is flush against the cold stone of the castle wall.

You take initiative, raising your leg to hang your heel on his shoulder, resting the limb against his torso. Aemond curls a hand around the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open in this position even past the point of pain.

He nudges his hard cock between the lips of your cunny, gliding it through your wetness but never plunging inside. The aphrodisiac from his bite would have you eager enough to not need any preparation, but he fingered you with your blood dripping off his fingers anyway. Partly for the sake of keeping your nectar where it belongs and partly because he wants to paint your statuesque form with your crimson, a painter of a single subject. You’re his muse even now, fueling the melancholic isolation instead of the ravenous war.

You whine weakly, irritated because there’s little room to writhe and roll your hips into him. “Please, sir, husband, I-i’m lightheaded, just fuck me already.”

Aemond chuckles and gently parts your folds with the red tip of his cock, giving your pearl a thousand little kisses. He eats with his eye, the scarlet liquid lubing his length and surrounding it as he warms himself in the chubby cradle of your mound. He’s not normally such a messy eater, but reuniting with your beloved after centuries will drive a man of the night to places he would not go with a sword atop his dragon.

“Shh, my love. The creaking doors in your mind will be right as rain in just a moment, this cunt must be starving, just as I am. We understand each other, this delicious little cunny and I.” He rasps into your ear, encouraging you to slide your hands in his long flowing hair by tilting his head back.

You flutter like a moth into a bonfire and create a path of bloodied handprints up his muscular back and into his silver hair. You’re getting it all dirty now, but Aemond closes his eye and moans hoarsely, as if you have given him a great and uncomparable gift.

He’ll ask you to braid it after, the red intertwining with the near white, your husband now the last weirwood tree in a Godswood.

You project the thought of squirting in his empty eye socket, sitting on his face and positioning your pussy right over the gaping wound. To feel the scarred flesh squelch and twitch, only seeing your cunt in its shadow. Charred black, the bits of wriggling skin remind you of burnt bacon. You both are silent then too, preferring to wade in the waters of comfortable silence because what words are needing for this consummation other than screams?

Aemond is not easy to provoke, in truth, it takes years after years of relentless and snide jabs and barbs for him to go off the deep end into the God’s Eye. However, you have been sunken and ghostly longer than he had been poked at by his brother or the strong bastard dyad. The moment he caught the scent of the ripe fruit in the middle of your thighs was his last brush with sanity.

You wail when he plunges to the depths of you without any warning, only a guttural cross between a hiss and a snarl. Aemond squishes you into the wall of what was once the throne room, where he had dreamed of taking you completely naked and unrestrained until all the new citizens of the kingdom were your children.

You only had the one before the dance, before you were slain like a sheep devoured by an uncaring beast.

“No matter.” He declares aloud. “What better conception tale could we spin for our offspring than this, my rose? With a cunt as tight as yours, strangling me in the same godsdamned fashion, I fear it will be quite short.”

Your blood sticks his skin to yours, the wet smacks of your chests pushing and pulling apart like magnets compete with the squelches his cock makes in your bloody cunt. You thread your fingers through his hair, increasingly strengthening your grip to entice him into a violent kiss.

New blood gushes from your bitten lips and oh if you knew the humiliation Prince Aemond would have felt back then to be lapping at them, hungrier than a mangy dog and grotesquely beautiful. Your head spins, wobbling back and forth on the precipice of a dark cliff. He laughs, genuine in his happiness as he places your head in the crook of his neck.

“Do not fret, I shan't feel a thing, beloved. I crave your teeth in my neck like nothing else.” He coos, an order and not a suggestion.

Your husband's blood runs down his body onto yours when you bluntly bite down after a few clumsy tries, aged wine mixing with the freshly harvested. You feel the burn in your stretched leg as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck you back into the wall, so you teasingly apply kitten licks to the minor bite wound.

You’re making a gruesome mess, bone deep groans and swathed in life’s essence. Aemond’s cock spears you like he’s truly out to kill you, stabbing into your cervix with a passionate rhythm. The gory sight of your combined blood trickling down to the floor from his pendulous balls is driving him to madness. Through the shallow connection he can sense that the earlier blood loss and newly regained high from his devotion have you at your peak.

“There you are, my treasure back where they belong. In my home, on my cock, your magnificent body is bleeding dry for me.”

The hand not holding your leg grasps onto your bouncing breast, his talons scrape your pebbled nipple, pinching the bud as a means of fastening the learned brutality of his affection with a shiny bow.

“This is the wedding in the traditions of my valyrian ancestors that my grandsire never let us have, is that not greatly amusing?” Aemond jokes as you lick into his mouth to harass his fangs.

Your mind is lost in the sanguinary love making that follows, snatched by the claws of a greedy dragon.

A soul born in winter, never to flower in the spring.

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saturnville · 8 months ago

Text

and I drove you crazy, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae

content: John is prepared to show Amelia that he is committed to her and only her. part two to sad girl. 18+ steam.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Bucky, you haven’t shown her that you’re committed to her. She’s not obligated to wait around while you figure it out. You either want her or you don’t. But a woman like her doesn’t come around often, so I suggest you choose wisely. Other men are waiting to take your place.”

The words replayed in his mind like a song he couldn’t help but hum the words to. The logic of his best friend imprinted itself on the forefront of his mind. You either want her or you don’t. You either want her or you don’t. Choose wisely. Wise choices. Other men. Waiting. To take his place. His stomach churned in discomfort.

The sun dipped below the horizon, hues of orange and pink across the sky. John found himself alone with his thoughts, as he had been for majority of the day. The weight of his burdened his strong shoulders, and the fear of Amelia slipping through his fingers gnawed at his heart. His fingertips drummed against the iron headboard as his mind raced faster than a Jeep on a gravel road.

The silence in the room was deafening. He rose to his feet and paced around the room, his sock-clad feet slipping against the floor with every movement. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed against the bed again, carding through his hair in frustration. He knew he had to make things right, but where to begin, he wondered. That was the question that tormented him as he stared out the window, watching as the sun and moon traded places.

John felt stuck. He felt emotions he’d never felt before. They were big, they were intense, and they were overwhelming. He was rattled by Buck’s words, uncomfortable with the thought of another man looking in her direction, calling her beautiful, or asking her to dance. What would he do if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him? If she left him high and dry as she moved onto another man? His lip twitched in disgust.

He couldn’t believe it; a woman who he hadn’t known for even a year had turned his world upside down and it drove him insane. Caring for someone on such a deep level wasn’t what he was used to and it was an odd feeling. Having his chest cave, his throat constrict, and his shoulders burdened with guilt. Major Egan wasn’t sensitive to such things. But, John was.

His resolve solidified, John retrieved his boots and hastily packed a few belongings into his backpack. As he prepared to leave, a sleeping Buck stirred, casting a curious glance his way. "Where are you going?" Buck's voice was laced with concern, but John's determination was unwavering. "Amelia?" he guessed correctly.

John nodded, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. "I need to talk to her," he muttered, his jaw set in determination. With a final nod to his friend, he slipped out into the night, the weight of his goal heavy on his shoulders.

It was late. He was surprised when she let him enter her home. By the look she gave him, she seemed disturbed by his presence. He felt as though he had to walk on eggshells; the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to push him out and slam a door in his face. He had to be calculated. Meticulous.

John slid his bag off his shoulder and it hit the floor with an echoing thud. Amelia did not wait for him to gather his bearings before she walked away. He followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a ceramic mug from her cabinet and turned on the kettle. Its high-pitched whistle disrupted the disgustingly tense atmosphere his presence created. She swiped a tea bag from beside her stack of letters, placed it in the mug, and poured the piping hot water on top.

“Sugar?” she asked without facing him. He requested two teaspoons. She placed the mug in his hand. Always so considerate. However, the hope he had diminished at her question, “What brings you here, Major?” John forced himself not to roll his eyes in annoyance Had he upset her that badly? He sighed heavily and circled the rim of the mug with his fingertip.

“I wanted to talk to you, Rose.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. Her eyebrow rose and her tongue circle the roof of her mouth. It had been seven days since they’d spoken for more than five minutes and he came to talk to her late at night? She found herself growing more frustrated by his antics, but more disappointed by her inability to stand her ground. She refused to show any signs of weakness, so sternly she replied, “So talk.”

John pressed his back against the island, wincing once the draw handle punctured a weak spot. He placed the mug behind him. Carefully, he said, “You’ve been avoiding me. What’s that about?” Calculated. Meticulous. Walking on eggshells.

Her jaw clenched evidently. The muscles in her neck strained, her nostrils flared, and one again, her tongue circled the roof of her mouth. He recognized those mannerisms easily; she was thinking and trying to come up with an answer.

"I just figured I needed some space," she said after some time, her voice tentative yet resolute. “That’s all.”

John's expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and concern flickering across his features. So, we're doing this, he thought to himself. His chuckle was hollow, devoid of any amusement. Meeting her gaze, his voice was low as he probed, "Is that right?"

Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, a shield against the vulnerability of their conversation. She met his gaze with a hint of defiance, but her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling within her. With a hesitant nod, she affirmed, "That is correct."

His jaw tightened at her response, a surge of emotions rising within him. "You want to tell me why?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

Silence. Her jaw shook and her eyes welled with tears. She was strong enough to keep her rigid stature, but not enough to keep the lone tear from streaming down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I don’t think we are on the same page here, John. I can’t tell if you’re wanting to be with me for entertainment or if you’re serious.”

“Amelia--”

She cut him off. “You take me out, you buy me a dozen roses a week, you send me letters, yet, for an entire weekend, I see women in your face…and what don’t you do? Reject their advances.”

He didn’t bother to speak as he knew she wasn’t finished.

“If you want a plaything, fine. A casual girlfriend, fine. You need to be honest and say it as it is. But I’ll let you know, I won’t be either one of those. I’m a good woman.”

John used his hands to press off the counter. He took a step toward her. “I know you are, Amelia, and its obvious I have made you feel that I don’t see that. I’m not going to say you’re right, but I can agree that I never made it clear with you what I wanted.”

Amelia’s chin rose as she soaked in his words.

“I do want to be committed to you. It hasn’t appeared that way, and I’m sorry. But, I haven’t cheated on you and I never will. I want this to work…I want to be yours in every way; tell me what I need to do, Amelia…”

He sounded so hopeless. His walls were torn like Jericho and left at her feet. Everything was new to him—love, commitment, and how to do it. John knew it left no room for excuse, but that was his honest truth. Everyday, he was learning how to love someone more than himself.

“Just put yourself in my shoes, Egan. I just wanted to be yours, in all ways, and I want to feel wanted by you. So, knowing that, how would you feel if you witnessed what I did, regardless of how loyal I claimed to be…”

The thought alone would drive him insane. He resisted the urge to show the look of despair that fought to show on his face. John urgently repeated, “Tell me what I need to do, Amelia.”

There was a moment of silence. Just a moment. It seemed like an eternity for John, who resumed drumming his fingertips, this time against the side of his thigh.

In an even tone and cadence, Amelia simply said, “Prove it.”

“Oh…” She was breathless. Her words were interrupted by soft whispers against the shell of her ear. She sighed softly against his face and wrapped her arm around his broad shoulders. “Johnny.”

Through hooded eyes, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her hair, which was usually pressed, was a curly array against her floral pillows. Her forehead glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat, which only made her glow under the rays of the moonlight. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were just hardly parted. Softly, he said, “My pretty girl.”

He brought his lips to hers, swallowing her soft cries and gentle moans. “I love you, darlin’. Do you love me?” She whimpered weakly, tracing the ridges of his muscles with her fingers. He winced when her fingertips dug into his skin.

“Yes!” she cried out. “I love you, I love you…”

As their bodies melted into each other, tangled in a fervent embrace, they whispered declarations of love into the quiet night. The four letter word sealed the bond between them. Love. And it was so.

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 17 days ago

Text

Angel of Small Death

Part 1 of my Halloween mini series!

Dark! Frank Castle, Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest! Matt Murdock

Warnings: Horror, Blasphemy, Blood play.

A/N: Special shout out to @ittybxttykxttytxtty who heard my idea and just... made it soooo much worse 😂😂😂

When your lamp flickers halfway between the dormitory and the groundskeeper’s cottage, you freeze in fright.

The night is cold, damp, and uncharacteristically dark. The moon, in her waning gibbous glory, is hidden behind the clouds of a departing thunderstorm.

All you have, to see the rocky pathway, is the oil lamp in your hand, that you’d been forced to top up with a touch of holy oil so that you’d make it to your destination and back.

If Mother Superior could see you now, she’d no doubt be rolling in her grave.

When you’re sure the lamp won’t go out, and the wick’s adjusted just right, you continue on, your eyes locked onto the little stone cottage, the low light of a fire flickering through the small window.

He could still be awake, you really hope so, you didn’t want to handle the mortification of having to wake him, and then have to ask him for help in the dead of night.

You shiver, trying not to look around, your mind threatening to spin tall tales of creatures lurking in the dark, watching you, waiting to strike. You count the stones you pass, ignoring the feeling of being observed that washes down your spine.

At his door, you climb the few steps, fingers wrapping around the icy knocker, and tapping it three times.

You wait, and you wait, and you turn around, contemplating giving up, and trying to fix the problem yourself. You can’t see far in front of you, the moonlight was usually your source of light in these dark hours.

You face the door again, trying another three knocks, before softly calling out.

“Hello?” You call, “It’s me, I-I’m the new Reverend Mother- I need your help.”

There’s a loud clicking as the latch is undone, and then you swallow, stomach twisting as the door cracks open.

By the mercy of God, you think, blinking up at him as you meet his eyes.

He’s- more attractive than the sisters had described.

“Mister Castle?” You ask softly.

“I am,” He answers. You feel your toes curl at the sound of his voice.

You shiver, and he blinks, widening the door and stepping to the side.

“Please, come in, it’s freezing outside.”

You let out an exhale of gratitude.

“Thank you.” You say softly, stepping in, sighing in relief as the heat of his cabin envelops you.

He strikes a match, lights a few candles at his kitchen table. You study him as the room gets a little brighter.

Such a defined jawline, a gorgeous mouth, his eyes, deep and dark and with an aura of sinister wrapped around him.

“Did I wake you?” You ask, voice light as you inch toward the fire, aching to settle into the cozy chair he had right near the fireplace.

“Only a little. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please.” You say, turning to watch him pick up an iron kettle, and pour some steaming liquid into a ceramic mug.

“What is it?” You ask when he extends it out for you. You accept it gratefully, bringing it up to your face to let the steam warm the tip of your nose.

“Ginseng.” He answers, and as you take a tentative sip, you try your best not to frown at the strong herbal taste.

You drink it gratefully because the tea is warm and makes your insides a little less cold. It brings comfort, soothing your nerves to being alone with this strange man.

You study his place, the little cot in the corner of the room, the kitchen to your right as you step through the door. A single seat near the fireplace where you think would be the best sleep of your life in this frigid cold.

“I’m sorry for waking you, and I’m sorry I have to ask, but during the storm there was a creaking noise and water started dripping from several places. I would have waited till morning to get you, but I’m worried the water reaches the library.” You finish, thinking about the delicate scripture stored there by monks long ago.

He listens, nods, sips from the cup of tea he’s poured for himself.

“Something might have shifted out of place on the roof, I'll go up into the attic to see what I can do from below.” His gruff voice sounds, and you try not to feel affected by it.

This was simply a biological response, one you could do your best to ignore.

“I'll accompany you.” You say, feeling determined.

In the low light, you can't read the expression on his face well.

“Are you sure? The attic can be off putting in the dark.”

You give him a small smile.

“What kind of Reverend Mother would I be to make you go alone?” You say smoothly.

He grins, his teeth glint in the flickering light. He reaches, grabbing a jacket before opening the door and allowing you to step out before him.

You place the unfinished cup of tea on his kitchen table before you go.

Even inside the church is cold, the stillness of it is a big contrast to way it usually is on mornings, with the sunlight streaming in, catching on the occasional stained window.

Now, there's no light, no hearth, the pews are empty and the altar is dark.

You follow behind Mister Castle, trying not to shiver, his large shoulders and strong hands tell of a forbidden type of heat.

He turns his head on the stairway, looking at you in his peripherals, holding his own lamp in front of him.

“Where were you when you heard this creaking sound?”

You angle your head.

“I was in the pews, praying.”

“All by yourself?” Mister Castle asks.

“Yes? It helps calms me before bed. And… also… it's hard to sleep during the storms anyway, so I best make myself useful.”

He hums in contemplation of your words.

“Your knees must ache from kneeling for so long.”

“I'm used to it.” You say lightly.

His shoulders shake and you tilt your head in confusion, wondering what about that was amusing.

The church was the largest building in the monastery, and though the ceiling was parabolic in shape, and looked to be a part of the roof, it really wasn't.

There was a space between the ceiling of the church and the true roof, where the support beams resided and could be maintained easily without causing interference to the church below.

You watch Mister Castle use a wooden stick with a metal hook at the end to tug on a piece of rope. He makes a low grunt as he pulls, and the wooden stairway descends.

You'd never been up here, and you were a little curious to see how it looked.

“Be careful,” he says, turning back to look at you, his eyes holding a mirthful light, “There's a few nails sticking out of the steps, watch where you put your feet.”

You nod, and watch as he climbs the wooden steps remembering what he does so that you can follow.

You have to tug your skirt up, from its normal length around your calves, all the way up to your knees so that it's easier. You leave your lamp behind, placing it on a table nearby and dimming it in favour of holding your skirt up for the climb.

If you thought the church was cold, the attic is worse, he extends his hand for you to take when you're near the top and you accept gratefully, having the answer to a question you didn't know you'd been asking.

His hand is warm, rough, you take a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of unwanted thoughts, you try to simply experience his touch, rather than feel it.

You give him a nod of thanks, before looking around the room.

There are objects shrouded in cloths all around, you can't tell much more than that, and you follow behind Mister Castle as he searches for any evidence of water leaks.

You wrap your arms around yourself, thankful at least that you weren't alone, that there was some comfort of having another person with you in such a quiet, dark place. You hope you brought him some comfort as well.

“Here.” He says, placing the lamp down on a nearby surface, and tugging his jacket off.

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already extending it to you and you really are cold.

“Thank you.” You say simply, accepting the heavy garment.

It's warm from his residual heat, you press your thighs together to ignore whatever was going on within you.

When he turns away, you bring the collar up, pressing it to your nose.

It had been years since you last breathed in the scent of a man like this, and Mister Castle certainly had a scent worth memorizing. A hint of smoke and sage, a touch of his unique musk, you feel your head swim at his smell.

Your body tingles as you watch him, examining the area, his arms are large, you suspect you would have difficulty in touching your fingers together if you tried to hold his arm with both hands.

You don't take your thoughts further than that, reciting a small prayer in your head, one that would give you strength to resist temptation.

“Here,” he murmurs, glancing back at you. You step up, looking around him to see that he's pointing up at a beam, that appears to have shifted, a stream of water coming down, even though the rains had stopped for at least an hour now.

He presses both hands against it and pushes, and when that only shifts it a fraction, he draws back and delivers a harsh kick to the beam.

Your eyes widen at the sound it makes, moving back into place, the noise reverberating through the room.

“That should do it for now, in case it rains again. I'll have to come back in the morning to secure it, but this should be okay.”

You blink, nodding, reaching for one of the shrouds covering a random object and you tug, using the dusty cloth to soak up as much water as possible.

When you tug on another shroud, you pause in surprise to find a bed, where the last object had been a pile of boxes.

“I didn't know there were beds up here.” You murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the groundskeeper, watching as he studies the bed, his eyes then sliding over to you.

You gulp, tensing up for a moment, trying to avoid thinking about the dull ache inside of you.

“I suppose,” He says, taking a step toward you, “Maybe this was a makeshift living quarters for when there were more people than the dormitories could hold.”

You swallow, nodding, fighting with every atom of you not to think about the implications of you, Mister Castle, and a bed.

You smile politely, moving in the dark to retrace your steps. Since the beam is fixed, you want to leave, no longer willing to be in his presence.

You weave through the dark, until you find the steps, watching him struggle to keep up with you, ignoring his words to be careful.

You've had enough temptation for tonight, angry at yourself for feeling the way you do, your uncontrollable desires had been the very reason you'd joined the community, seeking salvation from your earthly desires, and here was one rugged man, stirring trouble.

You were better than this, you were holy and you were pure and no one would take that from you.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don't realise you've missed one of the steps until you slip, your shin of your right leg banging on the last two rungs of the ladder while your skirt catches on a nail, the fabric tearing and the nail digging into the skin of your inner left thigh.

You gasp in pain, your legs stinging as you grip the edge of the ladder to stay upright.

He glides down in seconds, placing his lit lamp besides your extinguished one before dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Let me see,” he says softly, pushing your skirt up, hissing in empathy when he sees the scratch. You can feel blood beading on the edges of the wound, starting at your knee and coming up to mid thigh.

“It's not too bad,” he says, examining it in the low light, “It feels worse than it is, there's only a little blood.”

You can only whine in pain.

He glances up at you from between your thighs and you feel something stir inside of you.

“I have a good remedy- May I?”

You nod, desperate to try anything to stop the stinging pain.

You definitely should have clarified what the remedy was before you agreed.

When his hot tongue meets your thigh, you choke on your breath.

He drags his tongue up, up over the length of the scratch, a weak sound leaves your lips.

“Frank.” You breathe his name shakily.

He makes a low noise, before retracing the path, his saliva cooling on your skin.

When he draws back, looking up at you once more, his lips are wet.

“Is that better?”

You can't speak, but by some miracle the pain does ease, when he turns his head, you catch sight of your own blood smeared onto his lips.

His eyes are- too sinister to describe, you watch his tongue dart out to- you glance away before you can see him lick your blood away.

He drops his head again, and once more, his tongue makes a path over your now tingling wound.

You jerk, pushing him back, watching him rise to a stand, towering over you.

You pant, eyes locked onto his, trying to look for an explanation for the way he makes you feel beyond the obvious.

“You're okay.” He soothes, bringing a hand up, tracing his thumb gently over your bottom lip for just a second, your lips tingling at the contact.

You suck in a deep breath, sliding out from between his large body and the step, you keep your eyes on him as you back away, the lamp flickering in his eyes as he studies you.

At the door, you turn, scrambling down the nearby stairs in the dark and heading back to your dormitory as fast as your shaky legs and limited vision can take you, the shadows chasing you all the way there.

You make it into your room quietly, panting, you pull off his jacket, dropping it onto your bed. You shed your outer layer of clothing, dropping to your knees beside your bed in your panties and chemise to begin praying.

You fall asleep like that, on your knees beside your bed, your rosary wrapped around your fingers. When you wake, it's with damp thighs, aching knees, and dangerous dreams of being bent over and filled in an unfamiliar way, by a man that smells distinctly of sage.

The scratch on your thigh is nothing more than a fading red line. You study it, amazed at the advanced state of healing, wondering how such an unconventional remedy actually worked.