#Lace and Favour

[gyuuberryy]

prince charming's mismatch

pairing: prince!heeseung x princess!reader

synopsis: you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband.

now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful?

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au

warnings: highly suggestive content!!! kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee

note: i've been meaning to write this plot for an year now, im happy with how it turned out! e2l with hee is always soo fun to write. enjoyy

word count: 11.5k

royally yours masterlist | next: jay

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the first time you met prince heeseung, it was at a grand summer garden party hosted by your parents in the palace’s sprawling grounds. you were barely six years old, and he wasn’t much older, yet even then, the air between you crackled with something akin to competition. your governess had dressed you in your finest lace frock, with your hair tied in perfect ribbons, but none of that mattered. you were too busy building a grand sandcastle near the fountain, your little fingers carefully patting the turrets into shape.

that was when heeseung appeared, his shadow falling over your castle like a storm cloud. he crouched beside you without so much as a polite greeting, his royal title apparently excusing his lack of manners. his eyes, sharp for a child, surveyed your handiwork critically.

“that’s not right,” he declared, reaching out to touch one of your towers. “the walls need to be thicker, or it’ll fall.”

you frowned, already bristling at the unsolicited advice. “it’s my castle. i know what i’m doing.”

he smirked, a small, superior thing that made your blood simmer even at that tender age. without asking, he began "fixing" it, his hands too rough as he demolished what you had so carefully crafted.

“stop!” you cried, shoving him back with all the strength your little body could muster. heeseung stumbled, landing awkwardly on the grass, but instead of being chastened, he merely laughed.

“see?” he said, gesturing at the collapsed sandcastle. “i told you it would fall.”

tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you glared at him. “you ruined it! i didn’t ask for your help!”

heeseung stood, dusting off his fine clothes, a boyish smirk still plastered on his face. “you should thank me. i was doing you a favour.”

from that day forward, any time your families met, it was as if an unspoken rule had been established—whenever you were in the same room, you and heeseung would find something to argue about. it didn’t matter if it was who deserved the biggest slice of cake or who could recite their latin conjugations faster; the two of you were constantly at odds.

as the years passed, your mutual disdain only deepened. by the time you were ten, heeseung had already earned a reputation as the golden boy of his kingdom, a future king who excelled in everything he touched. your own accomplishments were always impressive—your parents had ensured you were well-versed in languages, history, and the fine arts—but whenever heeseung was around, it felt as though all your achievements paled in comparison.

“did you hear?” one of your tutors asked one morning as you sat in the drawing room, diligently practising your embroidery. “prince heeseung has been awarded top marks in his studies again. he’s to receive a commendation from the royal academy.”

you didn’t look up, but your needle paused for the briefest of moments. “how wonderful for him,” you muttered, the words heavy with sarcasm.

that evening, at another royal banquet, you couldn’t help but bring up your own accomplishments, eager for even a crumb of recognition.

“i’ve been practising my archery,” you said proudly to the gathered guests, though your eyes couldn’t help but flick toward heeseung, who lounged nearby, looking as regal and aloof as ever. “i managed to hit the bullseye several times this week.”

heeseung glanced up lazily, catching your eye with that familiar, insufferable smirk. “impressive,” he said in a bored tone, “though archery isn’t quite the same as, say, fencing. that requires real skill.”

your fists clenched under the table, your pride wounded by his casual dismissal. but this was the way it always went. no matter what you did, heeseung always found a way to make it seem insignificant, as though he were the sun and you were merely a star dimmed by his brilliance.

by the time you were both teenagers, the animosity between you had grown more complicated, though no less intense. you found yourselves at the same royal gatherings, balls, and court functions, and each time, it was as if the entire room held its breath, waiting to see what you and heeseung would clash over next.

at one particularly grand ball, you had been feeling proud of your debut. you wore a gown of the finest silk, and you’d received more than a few admiring glances from the eligible noblemen in attendance. you were certain this was your night to shine—until heeseung approached.

“you look well enough,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that set your teeth on edge. “though i hope you don’t trip during the quadrille like last time.”

your cheeks flushed, remembering all too well the minor misstep you’d taken at a previous ball. “i won’t,” you snapped, glaring at him. “and even if i did, it’s better than fencing yourself into a corner like you did at the tournament last month.”

his smile faltered for just a second, but that was enough to make you feel victorious.

yet, despite the constant barbs, there was something else simmering beneath the surface now—a tension you refused to name. you hated the way your heart raced whenever heeseung was near, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of a room. and, though you’d never admit it, you hated even more that part of you missed the old days when your squabbles were simple, childish things.

it all changed the day your sister’s engagement to heeseung was announced. the prince who had been your lifelong nemesis was now to become your sister’s husband, the future king of your kingdom. it was a match made for political alliance, but it felt like a betrayal. you had expected more from him—well, not more kindness, but certainly more rebellion. yet, heeseung accepted the engagement with the same cool composure he did everything else.

for the first time in years, he stopped seeking you out, stopped picking those fights you had come to expect. he no longer bothered with sharp remarks or smug smiles. instead, he kept his distance, as though you were beneath his notice.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, what did you care if heeseung ignored you now? he was going to be your brother-in-law, and that was enough reason to keep things civil. and yet, a strange, hollow feeling settled in your chest whenever you saw him and your sister together. he was colder now, more mature, but somehow more distant than ever.

little did you know, your rivalry with prince heeseung was far from over. if anything, it was only just beginning.

the night your world fell apart, it started with a simple knock on your chamber door. the palace had been abuzz with preparations—florists arranging garlands, tailors hemming gowns, and courtiers whispering about the grand union that would strengthen two kingdoms. you had spent the evening rehearsing your duties as maid of honour, biting back any remnants of bitterness that still clung to your feelings about the match. it didn’t matter that you had spent your entire life despising heeseung; your sister loved him, or at least, she was supposed to.

you were preparing to retire, brushing your hair by the dim glow of candlelight, when your sister slipped into the room, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. you’d never seen her look so frantic. your heart sank before she even said a word.

“i’m not going to marry him,” she whispered, wringing her hands in the folds of her silk nightgown. her voice trembled, but it was steady enough for you to know she wasn’t joking.

your heart lurched. “what are you talking about? the wedding is tomorrow!”

her wide eyes darted to the door as if she feared someone might overhear. she leaned in closer, gripping your wrist with trembling fingers. “i can’t marry heeseung,” she said urgently. “i don’t love him. i’m leaving tonight.”

the words hit you like a physical blow. “you’re what?”

“i’m eloping,” she said, her voice firmer now, as if saying it out loud gave her courage. “with lucien.”

lucien. you barely knew the man, a minor noble from another court, but he had charmed your sister quickly. he was handsome and witty, but far beneath her station. you stared at her, disbelief mixing with fury.

“lucien? are you mad? you can’t just abandon your duty for—”

“for love?” she interrupted, her voice rising in defiance. “yes, i can. i won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who cares nothing for me.”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. heeseung, distant and cold as he had been with you, had shown no signs of affection for your sister either, but this was bigger than personal feelings. the marriage was political, a union meant to secure alliances, peace, and power. your sister fleeing would bring nothing but chaos.

“you’ll ruin everything,” you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of the consequences. “our families, the kingdoms—this is bigger than you.”

her eyes softened with a mix of guilt and determination. “i know. but i can’t live my life for duty, not like this.” she stood, gathering a small satchel you hadn’t noticed before, already packed and ready for her escape.

“you won’t stop me, will you?” she asked, her gaze pleading.

you wanted to scream, to shake her out of this madness, but your throat tightened. she was your sister. you loved her. and you knew, deep down, that nothing you said would change her mind.

“i should,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle. “but no. i won’t.”

your sister smiled, a fragile, relieved thing, before pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug felt final, like the end of something neither of you could come back from. when she finally let go, you stood frozen in the middle of her room as she slipped out the window and into the night, her footsteps fading into the shadows.

the palace remained blissfully unaware of the catastrophe until morning, when your mother’s scream shattered the early dawn peace.

the palace was in chaos the next morning. servants rushed through the halls, panic etched on their faces as whispers spread like wildfire—the bride had run away. you stayed in your chambers as long as possible, trying to gather your thoughts, your emotions, trying to prepare for the inevitable fallout.

when the summons came from your father, it felt like a death knell. the walk to the throne room felt endless, each step heavier than the last. the moment you stepped through the grand doors, you saw heeseung standing beside your parents. his face was a mask of icy calm, but his eyes…his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, cold and unforgiving.

he didn’t even glance at you as your father spoke.

“your sister has disgraced this family,” your father’s voice boomed, his tone laced with anger and disappointment. “but the marriage cannot be abandoned. the alliance with heeseung’s kingdom is too important.”

you stood still, your stomach churning as you braced for what was coming.

“therefore,” your father continued, his gaze hard as stone, “you will take her place.”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. you? marry heeseung? no, it wasn’t possible. you had spent your entire life in a silent war with him. the idea of marrying the man who had been your nemesis since childhood was unthinkable.

your mother’s voice, soft but firm, broke the silence. “the arrangements have already been made. the wedding will proceed as planned. you will become heeseung’s bride.”

“no.” the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your heart racing. “i can’t.”

your father’s eyes narrowed, and your mother’s expression hardened with disappointment. “you will do your duty,” your father said coldly. “this is not up for discussion.”

duty. it always came down to that. your entire life, you had been prepared for moments like this, but not this moment. not like this.

finally, you turned to heeseung, desperate for any sign of protest, for him to say something—anything—that would stop this madness. but he was silent. his face remained expressionless, as though none of this affected him. he looked at you as if you were just a piece of the puzzle, another part of the kingdom’s grand design.

“is that all i am to you?” you asked, your voice shaking. “just a replacement? a stand-in for the bride who ran away?”

for the first time, heeseung’s gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, buried deep beneath the coldness. but his words cut through you like ice.

“you’re a princess,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “your role is to serve your kingdom. that’s all that matters.”

a bitter laugh escaped your throat. “you’ve hated me for years, heeseung. and now you expect me to just—what? pretend none of that matters?”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. instead, he turned away, his indifference stinging more than any of the insults you had traded over the years.

your father spoke again, his tone final. “the marriage will happen. prepare yourself.”

the grand hall was suffused with the glow of flickering candles and soft sunlight filtering through stained glass windows. the scent of fresh roses—your sister’s favourite, not yours—hung heavily in the air, mocking the gravity of the moment. you stood at the entrance of the hall, your hands clenched so tightly around the bouquet that your knuckles were white. the murmurs of the courtiers echoed around you, a constant hum of speculation and judgement. no matter how well you carried yourself today, the whispers wouldn’t stop.

the switch of the bride was the scandal of the century, and you were at the centre of it.

ahead of you, heeseung stood tall, his face as unreadable as stone. the same detachment was in his eyes, his expression cool and composed as if this marriage was merely another political manoeuvre for him, another step toward the throne. he didn’t look at you with warmth, or even a hint of care. to him, you weren’t his wife—you were the replacement for the woman who had run away.

you walked down the aisle, every step heavier than the last, the reality of your situation crushing you. heeseung’s gaze was steady as you approached, but it wasn’t the gaze of a man looking at his bride. it was a look of cold calculation, a man who had resigned himself to duty.

when you finally reached him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest, you barely registered the priest's words. the vows—sacred, binding—felt hollow, like a cruel twist of fate. how could you stand here, repeating the words meant for your sister? they weren't meant for you. you were never supposed to be the bride.

heeseung took your hand, and the warmth of his skin was a sharp contrast to the chill that ran down your spine. his grip was firm, not gentle, but not cruel either—just dutiful. he spoke his vows with a steady voice, each word sounding rehearsed, as though they meant nothing to him beyond their formality.

and then it was your turn. you hesitated, the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, your pulse quickening. your voice trembled slightly as you repeated the vows, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on you—expecting you to fulfil your role, to be the perfect princess. you could barely choke out the words, but somehow, you managed. and with every word, you felt the invisible chains of your new life tightening around you.

when the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, heeseung’s lips brushed yours in the briefest of kisses—so cold and devoid of feeling that it felt more like a business transaction than the union of two people. the cheers of the court erupted around you, but in that moment, the applause sounded like the closing of a cage. you were trapped, bound to him, to this life.

as you turned to leave the altar, heeseung offered his arm, the tension between you palpable. his eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, but there was no warmth there. just that cold, resigned look you had grown accustomed to. you were both playing your roles, just as you had been trained to do your whole lives.

but this wasn’t a game. this was your future, and it felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

the wedding feast had been a blur—a cacophony of forced smiles, hollow congratulations, and polite toasts that masked the underlying tension. you had barely spoken a word to heeseung throughout the entire affair. he hadn’t made any attempt to speak to you either, remaining as distant and composed as ever.

now, as you stood alone in the chambers that were to be yours and heeseung’s, the reality of your new life settled heavily on your chest. the palace chambers were far too quiet, the air thick with the tension that had been building between you and heeseung for years. as you stood in the centre of the room, staring at the enormous bed draped in rich fabrics, it felt like the walls were closing in. the room was elegantly decorated—ornate tapestries hung on the walls, and the grand four-poster bed was fit for a queen. but none of it mattered. the splendour felt like a mockery of the situation you found yourself in. tonight, this room was not a sanctuary but a gilded cage.

your breath caught in your throat as the door creaked open. heeseung entered, his presence commanding even in the subdued candlelight. the tension between you was palpable, stretching like a thin, fragile thread that could snap at any moment. his gaze flicked toward you briefly, but he didn’t speak, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

heeseung moved with practised grace, his movements calm and deliberate. he began undoing the buttons on his ceremonial jacket, the fine fabric sliding off his shoulders and landing in a careless heap on the chair by the vanity. you stood frozen, unsure of what to say, what to do. this wasn’t how you had imagined a wedding night would feel—though you had never dreamed this night would be with heeseung, of all people.

his back was to you now, his broad shoulders tense, though he did nothing to betray any emotion. you could feel the distance between you both, even though he was just across the room. heeseung had always been composed, guarded, but tonight, his coldness cut even deeper than usual.

he finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “it’s late. you should rest.” there was no affection in his tone, just the same sense of duty that had hung over the entire day. you weren’t his bride by choice, and he wasn’t your husband by desire.

you bit back a bitter laugh. rest? as if you could simply close your eyes and pretend this was normal. pretend that this marriage was something other than a trap. “is that it, then?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. “we go to bed and pretend everything is fine?”

heeseung turned to face you, his expression as unreadable as ever. he didn’t answer right away, as if weighing his response carefully. “what do you want me to say?” his tone was measured, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration that matched your own.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to marry you.”

something flickered in heeseung’s eyes, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. he regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he spoke again. “do you think i wanted this?” his words were quiet but laced with a bitterness that surprised you. “i didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

you swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. you hadn’t expected this admission from him, hadn’t expected him to show any vulnerability. “then what are we supposed to do?” your voice was softer now, the anger ebbing away, replaced by uncertainty. “how are we supposed to live like this?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare moment of frustration breaking through his calm facade. “we do what’s expected of us,” he said, though there was a heaviness to his words, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “we fulfill our duties. that’s all we can do.”

“duties.” the word tasted bitter on your tongue. it had always come down to that, hadn’t it? duty to the crown, to the kingdom, to your family. and now, duty to heeseung.

the silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. heeseung turned away, moving toward the window where the heavy drapes framed the view of the darkened palace gardens. his silhouette was stark against the faint glow of moonlight, his posture stiff, almost defensive.

after a long moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “i’ll sleep over there.” he gestured to the chaise near the window, a fine piece of furniture that now seemed woefully out of place in this awkward, tension-filled room. “you can have the bed.”

you blinked, surprised by his offer. it was the last thing you expected from him, but it was a relief nonetheless. “you don’t have to—”

“i’m not doing this for you,” he interrupted, his voice firm, but not unkind. “i just don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.”

with that, he moved toward the chaise, gathering a pillow and blanket from the wardrobe. his actions were efficient, almost mechanical, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate. he didn’t look at you as he arranged the blanket over the chaise.

you stood there, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, awkwardness, and something else, something heavier that you couldn’t quite place. this was your wedding night, but it was nothing like you had ever imagined. there was no closeness, no warmth—just two people bound together by obligation and circumstance.

finally, you moved toward the bed, the thick carpets muffling your steps. the soft fabric of your gown felt heavy as you climbed beneath the covers, though they provided no comfort. you lay there, staring up at the intricate canopy above, your mind racing. this bed, this room—none of it felt like yours.

heeseung settled on the chaise, his back to you, the distance between you both feeling vast despite the small room. the silence was oppressive, each second dragging on longer than the last. you wondered if he was as uneasy as you were, or if he had already steeled himself to this new reality.

for a long while, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint rustling of fabric as you shifted beneath the covers. the weight of the day, of the vows, of your new title, pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

finally, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “heeseung,” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted him to respond.

he didn’t turn, but his voice was low and steady when he answered. “what?”

you hesitated, searching for the right words. “do you think... do you think this will ever get easier?”

there was a long pause before he responded, his voice quiet, almost resigned. “i don’t know.”

and with that, the conversation ended. heeseung remained silent, his back still turned to you, and you knew there was nothing more to say. you turned onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, though they offered little warmth. the room felt too big, too empty, despite his presence.

eventually, exhaustion crept in, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts. but even as sleep began to claim you, a cold, sinking feeling settled in your chest. this was your life now—bound to a man you barely knew, a man who had been your enemy for years, and yet, somehow, your husband.

and as you drifted off into uneasy sleep, the last thought that crossed your mind was how strange it felt to be lying just feet away from heeseung, yet feeling as though he was a world away.

the morning after the wedding dawned cold and gray, mirroring the lingering tension between you and heeseung. you woke up in the large, empty bed, the space next to you untouched, a stark reminder of the distance that had been established on your wedding night. the air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls were pressing in on you, reminding you of your new reality.

as you sat up, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only worsened the tightness in your chest. this was your new life. not just this bed, but this room, this palace—heeseung’s palace—and you would share it with a man who barely spoke to you, who looked at you with that same cold distance he had always shown.

you dressed quickly, your movements mechanical, trying not to think too much. the maids moved around you silently, well-trained and efficient, but you could feel their eyes on you. it was impossible to escape the fact that everyone knew. the entire kingdom knew the story—the princess who had run away, and her sister forced to take her place. the whispers would never stop.

when you finally made your way downstairs to the grand dining room, heeseung was already seated at the long table, a plate of food in front of him. he didn’t look up when you entered, simply continued cutting into his meal with precise, practised movements. you hesitated for a moment, then took your seat across from him.

the silence was unbearable.

you picked at your food, barely tasting it, glancing at heeseung from time to time. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his attention focused on the papers beside his plate—likely matters of the kingdom that required his attention. he was already immersed in his duties, the weight of his impending kingship pressing down on him just as heavily as your new role as his wife weighed on you.

finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “do you plan to ignore me for the rest of our lives?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

heeseung didn’t look up immediately, taking his time to finish his bite and set down his utensils with deliberate care. when he finally met your gaze, his expression was cool, detached. “i’m not ignoring you.”

you scoffed, unable to hide your frustration. “you’ve barely spoken to me since the wedding.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone as calm as ever. “what would you like me to say?”

the question took you off guard. you hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. you opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. what did you want him to say? that he regretted everything as much as you did? that he hated this arrangement, too? or perhaps you wanted him to acknowledge the years of bitterness between you, to admit that this marriage was a farce.

instead, you said, “we’re married now, heeseung. we have to live together. we can’t keep pretending the other doesn’t exist.”

his jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. “i’m aware of that.”

you waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. the silence stretched on once again, thicker than before, suffocating in its awkwardness. you pushed your plate away, no longer interested in eating. “fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly. “i suppose i’ll just get used to it, then.”

you turned to leave, but his voice stopped you. “you don’t have to like this any more than i do, but we have responsibilities now.”

you paused, your back to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “responsibilities,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. it seemed like that was all your life had ever been reduced to—duty, obligation, and responsibilities.

without another word, you left the dining room, the heavy doors closing behind you with a soft thud. you could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on you even more as you walked through the halls of the palace, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. you weren’t just trapped in this marriage—you were trapped in this life.

days passed, and though you and heeseung were forced to share the same space, your interactions remained minimal, stilted. in the mornings, you would find him already at the breakfast table, poring over documents and barely acknowledging your presence. he would spend his days attending council meetings and handling matters of state, leaving you to navigate the palace on your own, feeling more like a guest in your own home than its mistress.

at night, he would retire to the chambers late, often when you were already lying in bed, pretending to sleep. he would quietly take his place on the chaise near the window, far enough away to avoid any awkwardness, but close enough that his presence was a constant reminder of the divide between you.

it was during these nights that the loneliness settled in most heavily. the silence of the room, broken only by the occasional rustling of fabric or the soft crackle of the fireplace, was suffocating. you had grown accustomed to sleeping alone, but now, knowing heeseung was just a few feet away, the distance between you felt almost unbearable. there was an unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to bridge the gap.

one evening, after yet another day of awkward meals and tense silences, you found yourself in the library, one of the few places in the palace where you felt at peace. the vast room was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines worn and familiar. you had always loved to read, finding solace in the stories and histories of others when your own life felt too overwhelming.

you were seated by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the pages of your book, when the door creaked open. you looked up, surprised to see heeseung standing in the doorway. he paused for a moment, as if uncertain whether to enter or leave, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you.

“may i join you?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

you blinked, caught off guard by his request. this was the first time he had sought you out since the wedding, and the suddenness of it left you momentarily speechless. you nodded, unsure of what else to do. “of course.”

heeseung crossed the room, moving with his usual grace, and took a seat in the armchair opposite you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the library enveloping you both. he seemed content to sit in silence, his gaze wandering to the bookshelves that lined the walls.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “this is... one of the quieter rooms.”

you raised an eyebrow, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “it’s a library, heeseung. of course it’s quiet.”

to your surprise, he chuckled softly, though it was a dry, humourless sound. “fair enough.”

silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t as suffocating. there was something almost... peaceful about it, the weight of your shared presence not as unbearable as it had been before. you watched him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how tired he looked. the weight of his responsibilities was evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

after a while, you set your book down on your lap, deciding to break the silence. “it must be difficult,” you said quietly. “taking on so much.”

heeseung didn’t answer right away, his gaze still focused on the shelves, but eventually, he nodded. “it is.”

you hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time. “you don’t have to carry it all alone, you know.”

he turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something softer than the cold indifference you had grown accustomed to.

“and what would you suggest?” he asked, his voice quiet but not unkind.

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “but we’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. it wasn’t much, but it was the first step—however small—toward something more than just forced cohabitation.

the shift in your relationship came faster than you expected. it started with a challenge—a reckless, unspoken dare that neither of you could resist.

it had been a clear, crisp day, the first after several weeks of rain. you were restless, tired of the palace walls and the constant burden of your new role. you had gone to the stables, hoping to take one of the horses out for a ride, needing to feel the wind in your hair and the ground beneath you. but when you arrived, heeseung was already there, adjusting the reins of his own horse.

you paused in the doorway, surprised to see him. “you ride?”

he glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “you sound surprised.”

“i am,” you admitted. “i’ve never seen you ride before.”

he chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

the challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and you couldn’t resist rising to it. “care to prove it?” you asked, moving toward your own horse.

heeseung’s smirk widened. “what do you have in mind?”

you mounted your horse swiftly, the thrill of the challenge already coursing through your veins. “a race.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “you think you can beat me?”

“i know i can,” you shot back, turning your horse toward the open field beyond the stables.

without another word, you spurred your horse into motion, not waiting for his response. behind you, you heard heeseung’s laughter, low and rich, before the sound of hooves thundering against the ground told you he had accepted the challenge.

you raced through the fields, the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the chase making your heart race. heeseung was right behind you, and you could feel the tension building, the competitive edge between you sparking like fire. it was like being children again, challenging each other at every turn, pushing each other to the limit.

but this time, it was different. the stakes were higher, the tension thicker, and the way heeseung looked at you when he finally caught up to you sent a shiver down your spine.

when he finally pulled his horse beside yours, you were both breathless, your faces flushed with adrenaline. you glanced over at him, and the look in his eyes—intense, dark, heated—made your pulse quicken.

“not bad,” he said, his voice low, rough around the edges.

you smirked, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “you almost kept up.”

heeseung leaned in just slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “almost?” he murmured, his voice sending a jolt through you.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. the space between you was too close, the air charged with something you weren’t quite ready to name. his eyes lingered on your lips for just a moment too long, and you could feel the heat of his presence, the tension that had always existed between you now manifesting in a way that was far more dangerous.

before either of you could say anything, heeseung pulled back, his smirk returning as if nothing had happened. “we’ll call it a draw,” he said, though there was a teasing edge to his voice.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, shaking your head with a laugh. “you wish.”

but as you rode back to the palace, the tension between you remained, simmering beneath the surface. it was no longer the resentment of old enemies, but something far more complex, far more dangerous. and for the first time, you found yourself wondering what would happen if that tension ever boiled over.

later that night, the air was thick with the remnants of the day’s energy. you couldn’t sleep, your mind still racing from the ride and the way heeseung had looked at you—how close he had come, how your heart had nearly betrayed you in that moment of suspended anticipation.

you wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, your footsteps soft against the marble floors. the palace at night was a different place, quiet and still, the shadows long and heavy. it felt like a place where secrets lingered in every corner, where the walls whispered of things that could never be said aloud.

as you passed by the study, you noticed the faint glow of light beneath the door. curiosity piqued, you pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. heeseung was there, seated at the desk, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. he was reading, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he focused on the page in front of him.

you hesitated, but before you could turn away, he looked up, catching sight of you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. then, without breaking eye contact, heeseung set the book aside.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, intimate in the quiet of the room.

you shook your head, stepping into the room. “no. you?”

heeseung’s gaze flicked over you, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin heat under his scrutiny. “i’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone soft but laced with that same dangerous tension that had been building all day.

“about what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved closer, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “about you,” he said quietly. “about us.”

the weight of his words settled in the space between you, thick and intoxicating. about you. about us. it echoed in your mind, stirring something deep within you that you had tried to ignore for far too long. you weren’t sure if it was the late hour, the dim candlelight, or the fact that you had been dancing around each other for weeks now, but something inside you snapped.

your breath hitched as you looked at him, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. but it was there—undeniable, pulsing in the space between you. and now that it had been spoken into existence, you couldn’t unsee it.

“what about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. it was a challenge.

heeseung’s gaze flicked to your lips, and the tension in the room intensified, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like the air itself might shatter from the pressure. he stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and took a step toward you, closing the already-small distance between you.

“there’s always been something between us,” he said, his voice low, rough. his eyes never left yours, burning with intensity. “even when we hated each other.”

your heart was pounding now, so loud you were sure he could hear it. you wanted to deny it, to tell him that he was wrong, that it had always been pure hatred. but that would’ve been a lie. you knew it as well as he did—whatever had always been there between you, it had never been simple.

“and what is it now?” you asked, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even though every instinct told you to look away. to run.

heeseung took another step closer, his hand reaching up slowly, as though giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. his fingers brushed against your cheek, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“maybe we’ve been fighting the wrong battle,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. the warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, and you felt your pulse quicken.

your throat tightened. every word he said felt like a dangerous line, one that you were teetering on the edge of crossing. the tension between you had always been a fire—burning too hot, too fast. and now, it felt like it was about to consume you both.

heeseung’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and your breath caught in your throat. his touch was tentative, as though he wasn’t quite sure if this was real or if you would pull away at any moment.

but you didn’t.

instead, you took a step closer, closing the gap completely. the air between you was charged, thick with unspoken desire and the weight of all the years you had spent fighting against each other. your body was betraying you, leaning into him, drawn by a force you had denied for too long.

heeseung’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours, the heat between you almost unbearable now. you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his hand trembled slightly as it cupped your cheek, the way your own body was responding without your permission.

then, in a breathless moment that felt like it stretched on forever, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours—soft at first, testing, as though he wasn’t sure you would let him. but the moment your lips met his, something ignited between you. the kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing that had been building for so long. it was a clash of emotions—anger, desire, need—all colliding in that single moment.

you responded instantly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. the kiss was rough, almost desperate, as though you were both trying to make up for years of missed chances in that single moment.

his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped against his lips at the feeling of his body pressed so close to yours. the intensity of it was overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. you didn’t want to think. you just wanted to feel.

but then, as quickly as it started, heeseung pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. his hands still gripped your waist, holding you in place as though he couldn’t quite let go yet.

“this isn’t... what i expected,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. his breath was warm against your skin, and his eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for an answer in your gaze.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “what did you expect?” you asked softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his eyes darkening once again. “i didn’t expect you to feel this way.” his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with the same intensity that had been building between you all night.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. you had no idea what to say, no idea how to explain the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. all you knew was that everything had changed in that kiss.

“i don’t know what i feel,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible in the heavy silence of the room.

heeseung’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. “neither do i.” he stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“but whatever this is... it’s dangerous,” he continued, his eyes locked on yours, as though warning you. “we’ve always been enemies. we don’t know how to be anything else.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at his words, because deep down, you knew he was right. but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the desire for something more—for the possibility of what could be.

“i don’t want to be your enemy anymore,” you said softly, the confession surprising even you.

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you thought he might say something—might admit that he didn’t want to be your enemy either. but then, he shook his head, the walls between you coming back up, brick by brick.

“this doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

and with that, he turned and left the room, leaving you standing there in the soft glow of candlelight, your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the kiss that had shifted the entire balance between you.

as the door closed softly behind him, you exhaled a shaky breath, your fingers brushing your lips where his had been moments before.

everything had changed.

the royal court was buzzing with tension, and for once, the tension wasn’t between you and heeseung. the kingdom was on edge, not from war or rebellion, but from something far more insidious—political manoeuvring. rival noble houses were plotting against heeseung’s rule, questioning his right to ascend to the throne, especially after the sudden marriage to you. the whispers had grown louder over the past few weeks, the courtiers’ gazes sharper, waiting for the first misstep.

you had known court life would be full of power plays and alliances, but this was different. it was personal. every snide comment, every hushed conversation behind closed doors, felt like an attack on your marriage, on your family’s legacy. and worst of all, it felt like an attack on you.

one afternoon, as you made your way through the palace corridors, you overheard a group of nobles—close to your family—voicing their displeasure over your sudden marriage to heeseung. it was the same old song—how your sister should have been the bride, how you were never meant for this role, how heeseung marrying you was a strategic disaster.

you felt your blood run cold, but you kept walking, your head held high. you had grown used to these remarks, but today, they stung deeper. not because they questioned your worth, but because they reflected the deep-seated insecurity you had always carried.

that night, you found yourself alone in the study, staring out the window at the darkening sky. the weight of the court’s judgement, the impossible standards, the constant comparisons to your sister—they were suffocating. and then there was heeseung, whose coldness had thawed just enough to show you glimpses of something deeper, something real. but he was still heeseung—your husband, your childhood rival, and now the man who held your future in his hands.

the door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him. you had grown attuned to his presence, the way the air shifted whenever he entered a room.

“what’s wrong?” his voice was quieter than usual, but still carrying that edge of command. he always knew when something was off, as if he could sense the turmoil swirling inside you.

you didn’t answer immediately, your gaze fixed on the stars outside. “they’re saying we’re not suited for each other,” you murmured, finally turning to face him. “that i’m not fit to be queen. that you made a mistake.”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you.

“let them talk,” he said flatly. “they’re just waiting for us to fail.”

“and what if they’re right?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, the fear and doubt bubbling to the surface. “i was never meant to marry you. this isn’t the life i was prepared for.”

heeseung stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i didn’t choose you because you were an easy choice,” he said, his voice low but intense. “i chose you because you’re stronger than you realise.”

you blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his words. heeseung wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and hearing it now, in this moment, felt more intimate than anything he had ever said to you before.

“there are plenty of people who want to see us fail,” he continued, his grip tightening slightly. “but they don’t matter. what matters is that we don’t give them the satisfaction. we fight together.”

the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you saw beyond the cold exterior he had always shown you. there was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. a partnership.

but the closeness also brought something else—a heat that had always been there between you, simmering beneath the surface. his hands lingered on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your collarbone, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the air thicker.

“you think i’m strong?” you asked, your voice quieter now, tinged with something more vulnerable. something real.

heeseung’s gaze flicked down to your lips, just for a moment, before returning to your eyes. his voice was rough when he spoke, low and filled with an unspoken promise. “i’ve always known.”

the charged air between you was impossible to ignore now. his fingers slid from your shoulders to your arms, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through you. it wasn’t just the weight of responsibility pressing down on you—it was him, his closeness, the undeniable pull you had both been dancing around for weeks.

you could feel the tension in every inch of your body, your heart racing as heeseung’s hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer, but still leaving just enough space for doubt. he hesitated, as if waiting for you to push him away, to remind him of the enmity that had defined your relationship for so long.

but you didn’t. instead, you leaned into him, your hands tentatively reaching up to rest on his chest. the fabric of his shirt was soft under your fingers, but beneath it, you could feel the steady beat of his heart, as rapid as your own.

“maybe i’ve been wrong about you,” you whispered, your breath hitching as the tension between you reached a breaking point.

heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “maybe you have,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. but there was something softer there too, something almost tender.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between you and kissed him.

the kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced—fierce, desperate, and full of the years of unresolved tension between you. it was as if all the walls you had built around yourselves were crumbling in an instant, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable attraction that had always simmered beneath the surface.

heeseung responded instantly, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

it was overwhelming, the intensity of the moment, the way your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, the way every touch sent a shockwave of desire coursing through you. you had spent so long fighting him, fighting this, and now, as his hands slid up your back, holding you close, you wondered why you had ever resisted.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. heeseung’s grip on your waist didn’t loosen, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat as wild as your own.

“we can’t keep pretending,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, the vulnerability and uncertainty in his gaze mirroring your own. “no, we can’t,” he agreed, his voice rough with emotion.

for a moment, the world hung in the balance. you had crossed a line, and there was no going back. everything between you had shifted, and the question now wasn’t whether you would move forward—it was how.

heeseung’s thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch so tender it nearly broke you. “we’re in this together,” he said softly, the weight of his words heavy with meaning.

this time, there was no need to say anything more. you both understood what had changed between you, even if neither of you was ready to fully admit it. and though the path ahead was uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

weeks passed, and with each passing day, things between you and heeseung slowly shifted. the cold, sharp walls that had once kept you apart were crumbling, revealing a warmth and understanding that neither of you had anticipated. where there had once been biting words and icy glares, there was now laughter, quiet conversations, and small gestures of affection.

the palace felt different. it was lighter now, with the growing sense of partnership between you and heeseung. your bickering had been replaced with genuine care, and though the wounds of the past hadn't fully healed, you were both learning to forgive. but it wasn’t just the emotional connection that was shifting—there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface. unspoken feelings, simmering tension.

it wasn’t until a grand banquet in honour of a visiting prince from a neighbouring kingdom that these feelings came to a head. you stood at the centre of the ballroom, dressed in a gown that glimmered under the candlelight. it hugged your figure perfectly, catching the attention of more than just heeseung. the prince—prince seojun—had been particularly charming throughout the evening, his eyes lingering on you a little too long, his compliments a little too bold.

“you are by far the most captivating presence in this room, your highness,” seojun murmured, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “if i had known such beauty awaited me here, i would have visited sooner.”

you laughed politely, glancing over your shoulder, searching for heeseung in the crowd. he was across the room, deep in conversation with some nobles, but even from the distance, you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and intense.

seojun continued, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned closer. “perhaps we could steal a moment away from the crowd? i would love to know more about the woman behind such an enchanting smile.”

before you could respond, a sudden shift in the air caught your attention. heeseung appeared at your side, his posture tense, his expression a mix of barely contained irritation and something else—something more possessive.

“princess,” heeseung’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. the claim was unmistakable. “i believe your dance card is full for the evening.”

seojun’s smirk faltered slightly as he glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension. heeseung’s eyes never left the prince, cold and unyielding.

“of course,” seojun replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i wouldn’t dream of overstepping. after all,” his gaze flickered to you, then back to heeseung, “she’s your wife.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, charged with unspoken meaning. seojun bowed slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips, before taking his leave. but even as he walked away, you could feel the lingering weight of his gaze.

you turned to heeseung, about to make a light-hearted remark about the interaction, but the look on his face stopped you. his eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and his grip on your waist was firm—almost possessive.

“did he touch you?” heeseung asked, his voice low and tight.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his tone. “barely,” you replied, trying to play it off with a soft laugh. “why? are you jealous?”

his eyes flickered with something dangerous as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re my wife. i don’t like other men thinking they can take what’s mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. the possessiveness in his tone, the way his body pressed protectively against yours—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with heeseung. you had always seen him as cold, distant, but this... this was different. there was fire in his eyes, and you could feel it burning between you, a tension that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“and what if i enjoy a little attention now and then?” you teased, testing the boundaries, wanting to see how far he would go.

heeseung’s eyes darkened even more, and in one swift motion, he pulled you even closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “i don’t care how many men look at you, but remember this—” his voice dropped, sending shivers down your spine, “you belong to me and i belong to you.”

a thrill ran through you at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind spinning from the intensity of his claim. the ballroom, the crowd, even prince seojun—all of it faded away as heeseung’s gaze held you captive. you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the possessiveness in his touch, and for the first time, you realised that this wasn’t just some marriage of convenience anymore.

heeseung cared—more than he was willing to admit.

your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the emotions flickering behind them. “and what about you, heeseung?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “do you want me to be yours?”

his eyes softened for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “you already are,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the banquet had left the air between you and heeseung charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore. his possessiveness, the fierce look in his eyes when he claimed you as his wife in front of prince seojun, had stirred something inside you—something that had been simmering for far too long.

as the last of the guests departed and the palace quieted down for the night, the tension remained, lingering like an unspoken promise. heeseung walked beside you in silence as you both made your way through the dimly lit corridors toward your chambers. though no words passed between you, the air was thick with anticipation, the unspoken pull between you stronger than ever.

when you reached your shared chambers, heeseung opened the door for you, his gaze never leaving you as you stepped inside. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a need that matched your own. the soft glow of the candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the man standing behind you, his presence overwhelming.

you moved toward the vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you began to remove your jewellery. you were acutely aware of heeseung standing behind you, the weight of his gaze almost tangible as he watched your every movement. his silence spoke volumes, filled with desire and unspoken emotions that neither of you had fully confronted until now.

the tension was unbearable. finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, you glanced at him through the reflection in the mirror, your voice soft but steady. “you’ve been quiet,” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze. “what’s on your mind?”

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the bare skin of your shoulder. the touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver down your spine. his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your shoulder before he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

“i didn’t like how he looked at you,” heeseung finally admitted, his voice low and rough with suppressed emotion. his eyes met yours in the mirror, dark with jealousy and something more—something deeper. “or the way he made you laugh.”

your heart raced at the possessiveness in his tone. you turned to face him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes blazed with something primal. his emotions were raw, laid bare before you in a way that heeseung had never allowed himself to show before.

“it was harmless,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your voice softening. “but i can’t say i minded the way you stepped in.”

his gaze darkened, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the hard lines of his frame pressing against your softness. his eyes locked onto yours, filled with unspoken desire, but also with something more—something tender.

“i’m not the kind of man who likes to share,” he said, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “especially not when it comes to you.”

your breath hitched at his words, your pulse quickening as the fire between you flared even hotter. you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at his possessive tone, the way his hands gripped you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“and what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, your voice daring, testing the boundaries as your lips brushed his, teasingly close but not quite touching.

heeseung’s response was immediate. his lips crashed against yours, fierce and hungry, as if he had been holding back for far too long. the kiss was searing, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden. his hands roamed over your body, possessive yet tender, as though he was staking his claim but also worshipping every inch of you.

you responded just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. the tension between you, the unspoken desire, it all poured out in that kiss, in the way his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

heeseung’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bed. the air between you was electric, charged with desire and the intensity of emotions that neither of you had allowed to surface until now. he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

for a moment, he paused, his fingers brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just passed between you. his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability behind them—the raw emotion that he had been hiding behind his cold exterior for so long.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky but laced with care, as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far.

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you. heeseung, the man you had once considered your rival, your enemy, was now looking at you with a tenderness that took your breath away. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you whispered, pulling him down into another kiss, softer this time, but no less filled with the emotions swirling between you.

what followed was slow, deliberate, and filled with a tenderness that you had never expected from heeseung. his hands moved over your body with care, as though he was savouring every touch, every breath. the fierceness from earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as he explored you with reverence, his lips following the path of his hands.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer, whispered against your skin in the quiet moments between kisses. heeseung’s touch was both possessive and gentle, as though he was claiming you but also offering himself to you in return. the intensity of the moment was overwhelming, but it was the tenderness in his gaze, the softness of his touch, that made your heart ache with something deeper than mere desire.

and as the night stretched on, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you realised that this wasn’t just about passion—it was about the connection you had been fighting against for so long. the rivalry, the bickering, the walls you had both built between you—it all crumbled away, leaving only the raw truth of what you felt for one another.

when it was over, you lay beside each other, your breathing heavy, your bodies tangled in the sheets. the room was quiet now, the only sound was the soft rustle of the fabric and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

heeseung turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. his eyes, once so cold and guarded, were warm now, filled with an emotion that made your heart skip a beat. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. it was comforting, grounding you in the quiet aftermath of everything that had just passed between you. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, soothing and gentle, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. the silence was filled with a sense of peace, of contentment that neither of you had known before. heeseung’s touch was soft now, filled with care as he held you close, his body warm and protective against yours.

and in that quiet, intimate moment, you realised something: this was more than just passion, more than just desire. it was something real, something lasting.

heeseung’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your back, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered softly, “are you alright?”

you smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with warmth at the tenderness in his voice. “more than alright,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him.

heeseung let out a soft sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the weight of the past finally lifted, leaving only the warmth of the present and the promise of a future you were both ready to embrace.

the next morning, you woke to find heeseung already up, standing by the window of your shared chambers, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the early morning light. he looked deep in thought, his expression pensive as he gazed out over the kingdom.

quietly, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. he stiffened for a moment at the contact but quickly relaxed, his hands covering yours as he let out a soft sigh.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, resting your cheek against his back.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “i was thinking about everything that’s changed.”

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “a lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

heeseung turned in your arms, his expression soft as he looked down at you. “i never thought this would work,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “but i’m glad i was wrong.”

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with warmth. the man standing before you was the same heeseung you had known all your life, but now, you saw him for who he truly was—not your enemy, not your rival, but your partner. your husband.

“i’m glad too,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

and in that moment, you knew that this was your new beginning. the past, with all its bitterness and tension, was behind you. what lay ahead was a future you hadn’t expected but one you were ready to embrace—together.

as heeseung pulled you into a gentle kiss, the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. your marriage, once forged out of obligation and resentment, had grown into something real, something lasting.

and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realised that sometimes, the best love stories were the ones you never saw coming.

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taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl

[moremaybank]

jj eats you out for sport. he lives for it. but sometimes he can get just a lil' mean about it. (18+)

he spits onto the core of your panties, letting it soak the barely existing lace fabric before he starts to lick you up through it. just slow, languid licks across your most sensitive spots, feeling the way your achy hole clenches and flutters in need.

then when he believes that you've endured enough of the agonizing torture that was his teasing, he pulls them back and buries his face in your cunt. he slurps every inch of you up, paying extra attention to your hard, pulsating clit just the way you like. swivelling his tongue over and around it. wrapping his spit and arousal-slicked lips around it and sucking with little to no mercy. telling you i love you solely with the actions of his gifted mouth.

his only instinct in this moment is to make you feel loved. make you feel appreciated and attended to. make you feel good. just fucking good.

you're pawing at him the best you can from his place between your legs. fingers splaying through his hair and tugging roughly at the roots. both hands clawing at his shoulder blades and dragging down the lengths of his arms. they find solace atop his larger ones, where they were curled around the muscles of your trembling thighs. his short nails bite into your skin a tad, and he groans into you.

the vibrations you gain from it are immaculate.

"j, s'too much. n-need a break."

but your body works hard against you. it betrays you.

your cream pools out of you, dripping down toward your ass and down jj's chin.

he pulls back from you, unable to halt the incoming smirk. "see, your mouth is sayin' one thing but this sweet pussy's sayin' another. think she needs more. think she needs me, baby."

your hole squelches as he punts his fingers inside you, colliding with your g spot. it effectively makes you melt. his thumb works at your puffy clit, and your eyes nearly cross.

"mmm, j," you mewl, going tense as your orgasm got closer and closer within your reach.

"mmm, mama," he says, mocking you and giving you a false look of sympathy. you're always so pretty when you cry out for him. "love it when i eat it, don't you? got your tight pussy wrapped 'round my fingers."

you let out a strangled whine, your poor legs starting to shake again, and your orgasm hits you like a freight train. heat and pure bliss courses through your veins, and your chest heaves violently as you fight like hell to catch your breath.

but his fingers don't stop, and his mouth gravitates to your pussy like a fucking magnet. he sucks and flicks and practically makes out with your clit while his fingers continue their hard work.

you're screaming out — for mercy or what, you have clue — and he spurs you on, this time with more praises.

"y'got it, mama. fuckin' squirt for me."

and you do. oh, you do.

your pussy always works in his favour.

"yeaaah, look at that, mama. still goin, huh? that's right, let me take care a'ya. y'know i will."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

[theostrophywife]

devil eyes.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.

author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀

The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins. 

Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time. 

Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand. 

“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.” 

On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it. 

Instead, you settled for a favour. 

In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.

While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born. 

As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves. 

From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men. 

You were practically made for the role, Fred joked. 

You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage. 

“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!” 

At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?” 

You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?” 

She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.” 

“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?” 

Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.” 

“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.” 

“At least one of us is having fun tonight.” 

“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.” 

You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight. 

“I like the way you think.” 

The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight. 

After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest. 

“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time. 

“You’re a sadist, Forge.” 

Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.” 

“Piss off, yeah?” 

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?” 

“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.” 

Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it. 

The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor. 

You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight. 

At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys. 

“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?” 

“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night. 

Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.” 

Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark. 

“All alone in the woods, little lion?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…” 

The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.

“All alone in the woods, little serpent?” 

Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?” 

You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.” 

Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek. 

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.” 

Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm,  the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed. 

“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.” 

Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde. 

“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?” 

You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand. 

The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott. 

You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause. 

Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other. 

The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game. 

You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?” 

Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.” 

As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours. 

“Brave of you to wear rival colours.” 

“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.” 

“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.” 

Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.” 

“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”

Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 

“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”

Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?” 

“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”

Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. 

“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?” 

The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side. 

“You know who I am, then?”

You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.” 

Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask. 

“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?” 

“Does that mean I’m your Jack?” 

“For the night, at least.”

He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”

“The Graveyard.”

Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”

“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”

“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”

“I don’t think, darling. I know.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave. 

Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight. 

“Lead the way, love.”

You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.  

A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister. 

“We’ll take two El Diablos.” 

Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime. 

“Bottoms up, Jack.” 

“Cheers, Sally.”

After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick. 

With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm. 

A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy. 

“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.” 

“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.” 

“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”

“Are you jealous, Jack?” 

He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”

You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”

Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”

You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.” 

“You want to help me do my job?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.” 

You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly. 

“You’ve got a deal, Jack.” 

As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap. 

You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight. 

Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink. 

“Trying to get me drunk, love?”

“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?” 

“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”

You grinned. “Come on, then.”

Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips. 

The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest. 

His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze. 

Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’ 

“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.” 

Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”

You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”

A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you. 

“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?” 

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”

With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?” 

“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious. 

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”

The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand. 

“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.” 

With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” 

“You promised a taste.” 

You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”

The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into. 

The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” 

You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time. 

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”

“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”

“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities. 

You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away. 

“The mask stays on.” 

He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”

“I aim to please.” 

Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core. 

“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily. 

A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers. 

You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge. 

Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls. 

“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.” 

You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you. 

Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”

The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.

“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.

The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.

“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”

Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.

“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”

Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace. 

“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”

“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”

“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”

“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”

“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.” 

“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk.  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?” 

Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice. 

“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.” 

You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

“Does it feel like I’m holding back?” 

“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.” 

You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.” 

All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure. 

“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck. 

You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined. 

“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.” 

“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.” 

Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point. 

“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”

“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”

A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you. 

“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 

Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”

You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”

At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you. 

“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him. 

The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same. 

Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later. 

Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt. 

“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”

“Wait, you never told me your name!” 

But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time. 

Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask. 

It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all. 

Theodore would find his Sally. 

He’d make sure of it. 

Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class. 

After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it. 

“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin. 

Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”

The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated. 

“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.” 

“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”

George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”

If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her. 

“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”

Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”

“How?” 

“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”

“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.” 

“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?” 

“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”

The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. 

Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation. 

“How was your weekend?” 

Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear. 

It was you. 

It had to be. 

“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.” 

“Mattheo found you after all, then?” 

“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.” 

You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”

“It was fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.” 

Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it. 

“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”

“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”

Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.

“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.” 

Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.” 

You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away. 

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” 

You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back. 

“I found you.” 

“So it seems.” 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features. 

“You kept it,” you said with a small smile. 

“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“

“Fucked in the woods?” 

You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”

“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” 

“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”

Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”

You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?” 

“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.” 

Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[delirious-donna]

tw: katsuki x female reader, pro-hero, early 30s katsuki, pure smut, pussy drunk katsuki, finishing untouched, implied multiple rounds, implied unprotected sex, seriously I was just on a filthy rampage 😌

It had happened so fast; so fast that you weren’t sure when your intent had been entirely disregarded in favour of your hot-headed husband’s desire to devour you whole. Not that you were really complaining.

Your phone slid onto the counter, anticipation thrumming through you knowing that another patrol had ended successfully with nothing but a few scrapes and scratches to deal with. Child’s play at this point for the number two pro hero and the love of your life.

Heavy boots stomped towards the apartment door; each step echoed in time with the second heartbeat between your legs and you clenched them shut for a hit of friction. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not without his body slotted against yours. Hard steel enveloped by your soft curves.

The overwhelming swell of lust was immediate when the door opened, a head of ashy blond spikes dipped low appeared and it felt as if his presence sucked the very oxygen from the room. His cumbersome gauntlets were missing—likely left behind at the agency—but his hero suit remained. It was covered in fine dust, thick black streaks of dirt darkened his biceps and sweat lingered on his brow and shoulders as if he had run here… had he run here?

It was hardly a new scenario, this man was your husband and the routine of his dangerous line of work was well accustomed to both of you, but there was always the adrenaline that came after the ‘fight’. It consumed you both, dragged you under raging, lust-fuelled waves until there was no rational thoughts left—only the need.

Katsuki was your air, your reason to draw breath; all you wanted was to see him happy, loved, content with the world he built for you both. Those were the desires you always harboured, right now, you were focused on your baser instincts.

You needed to swallow him down, have his fat tip punish the soft tissue at the back of your throat until you were slurping down his seed like the greedy beast you felt like. Dammit, you were already licking your lips in sweet anticipation. The phantom salty musk taste whet your mouth with runny saliva, and he smirked when he caught your eye.

Honestly, you had expected to settle low and spread on your haunches. You wanted to worship him whilst he towered overhead. His sheer size and frame were mammoth and imposing; broad shoulders and arms thick with golden-hued muscles, a barrelled chest heaving with every inhale and his nostrils flared as confidence beat against his conscious thought. Bakugou Katsuki was a pure powerhouse of a man, a man of action first and foremost, and never more was that true when you felt his deeply calloused palm grab at the back of your neck.

His mouth slanted atop yours, tongue bullying its way into your mewling mouth as you grabbed at his shoulders to stabilise yourself against the force of being hauled against his chest. His unique glycerin laced sweat mingled with the spice of his soap, filling your nose with only him whilst caramel burst over your tastebuds.

Katsuki overwhelmed your senses so easily that you had no idea you were being walked backwards towards the bedroom. He boots thudded as he kicked out of them, stalking forward with no sign of halting the dominance of his kisses, the grope of your hips, waist, breasts. He never stopped, refused to waver and you were simply swept up in the rip tide that he was his momentum.

Instead of falling to your knees in the hallway like you intended, you found your spine pressed against rich brushed cotton sheets, bare and vulnerable to his attentive gaze. It had you squirming, reacting to every simple brush of his fingers on your heated skin. It did not go unnoticed, nothing every did with Katsuki.

You whined, low and throaty when he pathed a wet trail of kisses down your front, stopping at your breasts and lapping at your peaked nipples in turn. He showed no sign of shucking out of his hero suit, and whilst you adored him decked out for business, right here and now, it simply wouldn’t stand.

“Kat—please...”

His crimson eyes rolled in feigned annoyance, but the smirk couldn’t hide exactly how pleased he was that you wanted to see more of him, like he didn’t already know… the menace.

“For a kiss,” he bartered with a smug smile.

“My fucking pleasure,” you replied, eliciting an amused huff of the hero hovering over you.

Grabbing at the front of his compression shirt, you pulled him down until your lips crashed against his. The kiss was a mixture of sweet and salty, the pace alternating between slow and steady to hurried and frantic. You knew every lick to make him groan, every nip at his bottom lip that would stir the beast within until it roared with the compulsion to take over.

“Cussing is my vice, get your own. Now stop complainin’ and let me eat you out.”

With those rough words, the top half of his clothes swiftly disappeared into a dark corner leaving him bare-chested and magnificent. A literal wall of muscle with a liberal smattering of scars, and it stole your breath to gaze upon him.

Your foot braced against his toned pec, taking in the sight of the ash blond God that moved to kneel between your thighs, drinking him down in intoxicated delight.

Katsuki kissed along your calf until his nose pressed against the fat of your thigh, a low moan issued from his throat sending sparks dancing in your veins. Sometimes you could hardly believe it; the big burly pro hero known for his surly, no-nonsense attitude was so easily affected by being buried in your pussy—pussy drunk if you will. It would make you chuckle if he wasn’t in the process of scattering your wits to the wind with his hungry mouth.

Time ceased all meaning as you gave into Katsuki’s every whim, giving up on the keening pleads for you to return the favour after your second orgasm broke onto his awaiting tongue, slick slurped down his swallowing throat. His fingers tightened into the fat of your backside, spreading you further apart with each massage of his warm calloused hands.

He took his time in licking a fat wet strip over your soaked cunt, tugging on the puffy flesh of your folds with insistent lips. Guttural groans vibrated against your throbbing clit, your bud tender from the array of orgasms the hulking male pulled from you without showing sign of stopping.

Your toes sank into the flexing muscles of his broad shoulders, sensing their every ripple as he prodded once more at your gushing entrance. Slick already coated his fingers, drenched up to the knuckles as he pressed against your velvet walls.

“So good—taste so fuckin’ delicious,” he grunted, lips dancing across your sweat dappled skin with every word.

“Oh, ‘suki—oh god. Please, one more.”

Eyes of brightest ruby snapped up to lock with your own, widening almost imperceptibly as his entire body jerked, once then twice. His digits pressed firmly against your front wall, massaging the engorged tissue of your pleasure spot in earnest until you broke apart at the seams once more.

So blissed out from the release of tension low in your belly, you barely realised when the weight on the bed dipped and moved, Katsuki rolled sideways on a panted breath to reveal a large damp stain on the front of his black combat trousers.

“Fuck—I… shit-I need a minute. Got me busting in my damn pants like I���m still a fuckin’ horny teenager, sweetheart.”

You chuckled but quickly schooled yourself into some semblance of a stern expression. “You’re saying it’s my fault, Bakugou?”

“Don’t you Bakugou me, Mrs Bakugou. Don’t think that cause I ruined my trousers I’m not going to ruin your insides. Just gotta give me five minutes,” he huffed, standing to peel away the sticky mess from his cum-covered groin.

You paid for that attitude… over and over until you were as ruined as he promised.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request some domestic Ford x Reader headcanons? Just how they would live together either before portal or after the portal (or both hehe). Ty!

Given how dedicated Ford is to his work, it’s more often then not did you find him sleeping on or in places he probably shouldn’t, you’d try and make his position a little more comfortable by covering him with a blanket or putting a pillow or two under his head in hopes of preventing a crooked neck.

You’d press a kiss to the top of his head and whispered sweet dreams to him, unknown to you that after everything with Bill Ford had became a light sleeper, and so would feel touched whenever you take care of him in small but meaningful ways.

This sweet yet insufferable nerd would find himself captivated by you so much doing mundane things that he ends up drawing them in his note book subconsciously. So much to the point where when he pulls himself out of his own mind, he finds several two page spreads dedicated to you feeding stray cats, talking and or playing with Dipper and Mabel, giving Waddles a bath, or just you standing in the kitchen first thing in the morning looking haggard but beautiful none the less.

Physical touch is his love language followed by acts of service to make up for the fact that he spends most of his time in the lab more so then by your side like he should as your partner. you knew how much his work meant to him but Ford could clearly see the glimmers of his neglect within your eyes when you tell him you understand that his work was high priority.

It hurt him to know that he was the one causing the distance between you two and he felt as though you shouldn’t compromise yourself just to better suit him and his wants and needs. So he’ll always try to make up for his neglect and try to spend his mornings with you by making you breakfast and bring it to bed for you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. Ford only wanted to repay you for being there for him while condemning himself for not tearing the favour.

‘Normally you’d be in the lab by now.’ You pointed out as you watched as he slipped back into bed with you, something he rarely did since he was more often than not fast asleep on that makeshift bed down in the lab.

Ford feels just how cold his side of your supposedly shared bed was and could only imagine the amount of times where you’ve fell asleep alone, dreaming of the day where he’d come up and join you, only to frequently be greeted with the sight of an empty and cold mattress instead of him.

Why he never comes to your shared room was a mystery to even himself as he felt it went a lot deeper then him just being sleepy, was it because he didn’t feel as though he should share a bed with you after the amount of times he has neglected you for his work? Possibly but he wanted to change that and stop being absent in your relationship.

‘I fear I haven’t been the best of romantic partners as of late and for that I must apologise and make things right by you.’ He replied and you placed a hand over his own, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘I won’t disagree with you there but please take your time Ford, I’m not going anywhere.’ You tell him softy and Ford was once again proven why he didn’t deserve you nor your kindness.

So Ford would slowly start to do things for you that he knew you were less then wanting to do unless it was the last resort whether it be washing the dishes or tying your shoes when the laces come undone and you huff in annoyance. Anything that maybe an inconvenience to you Ford will do for you instead so that you don’t have to bother with it.

He’s got a good memory and knows your likes and dislikes like the back of his hand and he treasures this knowledge greatly, no notebook needed when it comes to you that you feel seen and loved whenever he remembers the little bits about you that would go over someone’s head.

Like how you like your morning drink, how you like your sandwiches cut, your favourite flower, your favourite memory-which was of the time the Mabel drew on him and thrown glitter on his red turtleneck while covering his hands in her sticker collection- and how you loved to steal his turtlenecks because you miss him whenever he’s in the lab.

So he starts to leave his favoured red turtleneck where he knows you frequent as he hides nearby to watch you smile softly and wear the turtleneck for the rest of the day. Whatever made you happy made him happy in return, being in a relationship with him may have not been that easy but he thanked you for staying with him when you could’ve left him.

Listens to you speak and could listen to you talk the day away and it could pertain to anything and everything, Ford just likes hearing you speak passionately about things you loved or have experienced while out in town and come home just to tell him. So much so that he gets this look in his eye whenever you speak about your daily activity that you’d have to stop and ask; ‘what’s with that look in your eye?’

He doesn’t understand what you meant by that and asks himself; ‘what look my dear?’

You: the one that you get whenever you’re really interested in what I’m saying, even if it’s boring.

Ford: because what you’re saying is investing to me, even if it may seem boring to you but to me I’m just being feed more reasons why I adore you.

You burrow your head into the Turtleneck you stole from him because of the feelings he brought out within your chest.

You would return the favour by listening to him speak his mind about the oddities of Gravity Falls in depth and his theories about how many more of them could be out there, waiting to be discovered and documented. He even told you about the time he drop kicked Gnomes once, the mental image of it made you laugh.

Ford is a bit of a homebody when it comes to date nights, not for any reason in particular, other than the fact he wanted to be focused on you and only you. So Mabel helps him plan for these dates in extensive detail, even if it was written in glittery pink gel pen. Most of the time you spend it on the roof of the shack where you can watch the stars come out while enjoying the others company.

It wasn’t much but it was much to you and Ford as you rest your head on his shoulder, take in the fact that he was here with you and inevitably fall asleep on his shoulder after he rests his head atop of your own, whispering sweet dreams to you this time before he manages to carry you back to bed; where this time he joins you and brings you into his arms tightly before falling asleep himself, warning his side of the bed at long last.

Also you probably have to patch him up after he goes out monster hunting, the man maybe smart be he’s often times reckless with himself. Also kiss his scars please he’ll love you for infinity if you did so, and also kiss his hands for he had gotten unnecessarily picked on about and call them his unique gift that he shouldn’t be ashamed of, you thought having six fingers was cool. You’ll have that man melting faster then butter if you do and you get to see his hardened face become soft and tender that you can’t help but smother in kisses.

[kingkatsuki]

— patrol

This is very self-indulgent I’m sorry in advance💕

Bakugou hates night patrol, and you hate sleeping alone.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, Bakugou has dirty thoughts about you, sleepy sex, creampies, cockwarming. Not proof-read as always.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Bakugou hates overnight patrols.

Not only because they mess with his body clock, ensuring his usual nightly routine is out the window as he falls into bed in the early hours of the morning. But the worst Musutafu has to offer seem to come out at night.

The most depraved creeps seem to come out as the sun goes down, crime never sleeps and apparently neither does Dynamight. And night shifts manage to turn the number two Pro into a social worker— just last week he had to deal with a lost woman who had just broke up with her boyfriend, and a drunk that was trying to fall asleep in the grimy booth of a hostess club.

But the worst thing about overnight patrols? Is knowing that you’re at home sleeping soundly in your shared bed, probably wearing one of his oversized shirts as it rides up your thighs— fuck.

He shouldn’t have thought about it.

Groaning at the stiffening erection between his thighs as he run a gloved hand down the length of his face. That was definitely the worst part about these shifts, often trying to swap with one of his sidekicks so he wouldn’t have to endure them.

It was too late for him now, his cock pulsing with want as he tried to ignore the sensation. Trying to stop himself from thinking about slipping into bed behind you and resting it between the supple swell of your ass, feeling the heat radiating from between your plush thighs as he buried himself inside you.

Bakugou was half tempted to call you, even though it was almost three in the morning— the excuse of missing your voice enough to justify the means. But he knew how tired you were from work when you arrived home this evening, the fatigue evident on your features as you gave him a soft smile, practically falling into his arms as he relaxed before his night patrol.

He palmed himself through thick gloves, thankful his huge gauntlets were big enough to conceal the movement if anyone were to catch him they’d think he was just adjusting them. Stifling a groan as he imagined your smaller hands wrapping around his length to give him a teasing pump.

A shrill scream sounded along the bustling street as he caught sight of a scuffle forming outside a nightclub in his peripheral as Bakugou groaned low and deep in his throat, furrowing his brows as he tried to ignore the throb between his thighs.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

It’s hours later when Bakugou is finally making his way home to you, his underwear sticky with pre as he spent the rest of his patrol thinking about this moment. Tired limbs dropping his gauntlets at the door before shrugging off his boots, already hearing you chastising him for leaving them in the way as his lips curl into a soft smile.

God, he missed you.

He’s just grateful the shift didn’t run over, as it often does if a fight breaks out or he has to try and get someone who’s just covered his boots in vomit on the correct train home. Meaning that by the time he’s finally finished and on his way back to you, you’ve already left for work.

Bakugou’s sock clad feet padded through your home as he made his way towards your shared bedroom, tugging his vest up and over his head as he discarded it to the floor. The sight of you exactly how he imagined earlier as you lay asleep in one of his shirts, the fabric bunched around your hips as you lay on your stomach. A leg bent at the knee as he saw the pretty lace panties that you wore, cursing beneath his breath.

If he’d known you were wearing those he probably would’ve called in sick in favour of burying himself inside you to the hilt, storing this scene away in the depths of his mind for the next time he’s needy and you’re not around. Moving his hands to unbuckle his utility belt as he held the lax weight of it, dropping it to the floor gently so’s not to wake you.

He cursed the sight of the time on his phone as he lay it on top of his wireless charger. Barely an hour until you were going to be getting up for work again to leave him alone in your shared bed, wondering whether he should disable your alarm so you miss work and spend the day with him instead.

Pulling the neatly made sheets back on his side of the bed as he climbed in beside you, immediately pressing his back against your side as strong arms pulled you into him. The saccharine scent of you invading his senses as he pressed the cold tip of his nose into the curve of your neck.

He’d almost felt guilty about waking you up, almost— if you didn’t sound so adorable at the sensation. Your breath hitching in your throat as he gave you a grin, his semi-hard cock presses against your hip as he nuzzles your skin gently.

“Mmmm, missed you Katsuki.” You coo, voice laced with sleep as you turn in his grip.

Your arms wrap around his middle as his warm palm moves to the back of your thigh, hoisting it up onto his hip so he could slot himself comfortably between them. His desire pressed flush against your clothed heat as a groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Missed you too.”

“I can tell.” You murmur, fingertips stroking the scars littered along his muscular back, “You didn’t even shower, smelly.”

“No time,” He shrugs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You gotta get up for work soon.”

“Don’t say that,” You whined, “I like to imagine I’ve got at least another four hours.”

Bakugou smooths a large palm along your upper thigh as he cups the curve of your ass, pressing you against his hard bulge with more urgency. Your pouty lips part in a gasp as you keep your tired eyes shut, his thick fingers slip between your thighs to feel along your slit.

“Did ya touch yourself without me?” He groans when he found your panties damp, fingers disappearing beneath the fabric to trace a line through your slick.

“No,” You mumble as heat licks at your cheeks, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What were you dreamin’ about hah, dirty girl?”

“You.” You reply earnestly, rolling your hips into his touch as a silent plea for him to touch where you need it most. Your neglected clit throbs with want as the tips of his fingers brush against it.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He groans, a deep timbery rumble to his tone as he moves the same hand to tug down his boxers, “Cause I’ve been thinkin’ about you all damn night.”

“Yeah?” You gasped as you felt the leaking tip of his cock glide through your messy folds, nudging your puffy clit before catching your fluttering hole.

“Why don’t I show you?” Bakugou grunts as he pushes forward, feeling your walls begin to suck him in as he sinks deep into your wet cunt. Stealing the air from your lungs as your nails dig crescent shaped moons into his back, not that Bakugou cared. Those were the few marks he didn’t mind receiving, a constant reminder of how much he looks after you and a trophy to display proudly in the locker rooms at his agency.

“Oh, fuck. Kats—” You trailed off into a moan as he bottoms out, the length of his cock curving towards that sweet spot inside you as he began to give soft, shallow thrusts into your tight heat.

The salacious thoughts he’d had all night were nothing compared to the feeling of you clinging to him so perfectly, as though you were made for him as he set a languid pace. Calloused fingers dipping into the fat of your ass as he moves you along his thick cock, his warm breath fans against your skin as the stench of sweat laced with smoke and ash invaded your senses. The scent was intoxicating as you found yourself disappearing in it, burying your nose into Bakugou’s chest as you inhale deeply.

“Fuck, baby.” He grunts, feeling your walls pulse around his cock in response as he continued the pace.

Creamy rings of your slick circled the base of his cock and matted into his trimmed pubic hair as Bakugou worked you towards your release. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last long, especially after all the thoughts he’d had of you tonight.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He rasps, tilting his head back slightly to try and see your face in the early morning glow, “Can feel ya squeezin’ me.”

Bakugou didn’t give you a moment to respond before he was pushing your back onto the mattress as he settles between your thighs, not once pulling out of you as the new position had him even deeper. His blonde hair pushed back with his mask as his forehead presses against yours, fucking into you with long, deep thrusts. Stealing the air from your lungs with each precise forward motion, reveling in the pretty sounds you made that were reserved all for him.

When did he get so lucky?

“I’m— oh, fuck.” You manage to choke out from between shaky breaths as he hit that spot inside you.

“Yeah? Is that right?” Bakugou grins as he presses a sultry kiss to your lips, his tongue disappearing between them as he swallows your moans.

Everything was far too intense, as you found yourself slipping from conciousness. The pleasure swirling around your mind as your thick lashes flutter, feeling the familiar sensation swirling inside you as the cog begun to tighten.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know?” He grunts, “Got the best fuckin’ pussy.”

Bakugou shifts his weight, pressing some of it on top of you comfortably as he moves his hand to where your bodies are connected. Drawing messy figure of eights against your puffy clit as he worked you towards your release, guiding you towards the edge.

“Come on, sweet girl,” He coos, teeth nipping at your cheek as he gave a particularly harsh thrust against that sweet spot inside you, “Give it to me.”

“Katsuki.” Your walls begin to pulse around his cock as you lose yourself in a toe-curling climax. Your heart rattles your ribcage as you cling to his back, certain you’re leaving deep red lines along the surface as you come undone.

“That’s my good girl,” He groans, continuing to give a few more messy thrusts into your warmth, feeling your walls clenching around him to milk him of his own release, “Good, fuckin’, girl.”

Bakugou enunciates each word with a sharp thrust as his balls tighten, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a grunt. The heavy weight of him drops onto your chest as he spills white, hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

“Feel so good.” He mumbles against your skin, his stubble tickling your neck as he stayed buried inside you. Cherishing the final few throbs of your cunt around him as he felt his eyes begin to get heavy, slowly drifting into slumber, “All mine.”

This. This is exactly what he’d been waiting for all damn night, thinking about the moment that he’d get to come home to you.

Your fingers began to stroke through his hair, your nails scratching at his damp scalp as a guttural groan reverberates from deep in his chest.

“You need to shower, baby.” You mumble tiredly, already feeling sleep begin to consume you as your breathing began to lull.

“Later.” Bakugou rasps, fully intent of falling asleep like this— with his cock still buried snug inside you.

Until your loud alarm begins to blare around the room, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten as he tries to bury his face in your chest. Holding you still as you futilely try to reach for your phone.

“I gotta turn it off, Kats— please.” You blindly feel for the device as you attempt to follow the sound. Bakugou’s heavy weight on top of you made it so you could barely move as he seemed content to fall asleep with the offensive noise. Although it was probably because Bakugou was used to annoying alarms— his current choice was a clip of All Might repeatedly saying ‘I am here’ which alone was arguably worse (a fact he would contest to the death), “Katsuki, please. My alarm is so annoying.”

He grumbles as he turns his head to face it, his cheek pressed against your breast as he pulls it off the wireless charger. Blindly stabbing at the phone screen until the noise stops, before dropping the phone to the floor as though this would somehow stop you from getting ready for work.

“Baby, I need to get up,” Your attempt to wriggle beneath his weight was in vain as he tightens his grip around your waist in retaliation, “I have work in an hour and I need to shower now.”

“Call in sick.” Bakugou replied simply.

[januaryembrs]

Hi! May I have a hot chocolate with Aaron Hotchner and a splash of angst please?

OVERPROTECTIVE | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

description: keeping your relationship with your boss is difficult when he gets so damn overprotective

length: 2.5k (Em doesn't know how to go small on things)

warnings: mention of a knife? mention of feeling sick? mention of a wound?

“Sit down, Agent,” His voice was a growl that made you stop loading up your gun, Emily and Derek freezing in their seats to witness the catfight when they caught the heated glare exchanged between the two of you. Your fingers paused on the cartridge, clicking it into the ammunition vault before switching your glock onto the safety, turning to face your boyfriend with a sneer on your face. 

“Agent?” You tested the water with a raised brow, seeing if he would double down with his attitude once he seemed to have realised he had crossed some sort of line with his words. 

“Prentiss and Morgan are going after the suspect, I want you here with Reid mapping out the geographical profile,” He ordered his teams, though you were quick to catch how he couldn’t meet your eyes as he turned to Dave, his fingers fixing his cuffs the way he did when he was thinking about something, “Dave, I want you with JJ at hostage negotiation, he still has the girls and might not be willing to give them up so easily-”

“Surely we’d be more use in the field, I mean, we’ve gotten pretty much everything out of the profile that we can.” Reid tried to point out, only for Hotch to turn to him with a scathing frown. 

“Is there something wrong with the orders I’ve given, Reid?” Aaron asked, his tone particularly cold, and Spencer was quick to look flustered, ever the teachers pet who loathed being told off. 

“N-no I just thought,” He spluttered, quickly packing up his files as Hotch gave him a sharp look, “We’ll stay here, it’s fine,” 

Your Unit Chief barely acknowledged him as he huffed, turning and heading for his office, “Wheels up in ten,” 

But you weren’t going to let him slip away that easily, especially not with an attitude like that. 

“Baby girl, think about what you’re doing here,” Morgan tried to call as you paced after him, your expression ruthless as you stalked behind the man, “Starting a fight with the boss is not going to win you any favours, sweetheart,” 

Except he wasn’t just your boss, only they didn’t know that. 

Aaron could tell you were hot on his heels even without hearing Morgan’s desperate attempt to help. To them, it must look like one of their colleagues was about to make a huge misjudgement on just how harsh their boss could be when he wanted to. Every single one of the BAU had gone head to head with Aaron at some point, it was only natural for eight people who spent day in, day out with one another, but not one of them had left the interaction feeling good about themselves. 

As a boyfriend, Aaron was almost a complete antithesis of who he was at work. His words were butter smooth, his touch gentle as lace, his heart surprisingly tender for a man who had seen the worst humanity had to offer. And he respected you, he was kind, he was soft and mallowed out, and it had started bleeding into his demeanour at work in the five months you’d been dating. He’d come to work with a skip in his step, you showing up around five minutes later now you guys had coordinated sitting in his car for a little longer to avoid suspicion. Aaron seemed to find your eyes in moments of worry, and it usually only took a small smile or a passing touch of your hands that could easily be explained as an accident to calm him down. 

But he had changed last week, when an UnSub had managed to catch your shoulder with a knife.

It was a surface scratch, nothing a few stitches and a dose of painkillers hadn’t cleared up, and you could already feel the scab peeling off, but since then Aaron had been stiflingly overbearing at work. 

You shut the door behind you, already seeing the way he rubbed at his temple with calloused hands, and you knew the sigh was coming even before you heard it, low and tired, like he didn’t want this argument here. 

“What the hell was that?” You said, your tone clipped as you stared furiously at his broad shoulder blades where he still had his back to you, “Spencer did nothing wrong, he was just trying to help, and he’s totally right, we’d be so much more use with Morgan and Prentiss-”

“If you have an issue with how I run my unit, you can take it up with Strauss,” Aaron snapped, barely looking over his shoulder, “Until then, I expect my orders to be followed, agent,”  

You crossed your arms over your chest, and he knew by the way you’d gone quiet you were staring daggers at him. Taking a shaking breath, he looked at you finally, and felt his resolve crumble almost immediately when he saw how truly seething you were. So much so he didn’t even catch the hurt in your expression until you began speaking. 

“Is it just ‘agent’, now?” You asked, your voice cracking as you swallowed quickly, “It’s not honey, or love, or sweetheart? Or is that only when you want the girlfriend version of me.”

Aaron stopped, whatever witted and crass remark that had about to fly out of his mouth vanishing, and he wished the rest of the team would just clear out of the floor, because he wanted nothing more than to pull you in for a tight hug and tell you in every way he thought possible that he was sorry he was being so cruel. 

But he couldn’t. Because he could feel their eyes on the two of you from here. Here he had to be SSA Aaron Hotchner. Here he couldn’t protect you when creeps were coming at you with knives or stalking women who could easily be your twin. Here he had to stop himself from being so pliant under your touch. 

“You know why I can’t,” He said coldly, his eyes begging and weak, yet they were the only thing that gave him away. His jaw was tense and his brows furrowed, and to anyone else on the floor it looked like he was giving you a stern talking to. 

Except you just scowled, “Can’t be my boyfriend or can’t stop worrying that something is going to happen to me in the field?” You said, and his lips pressed together tightly, because sometimes he hated not being the only one in the relationship that was a profiler. Of course you knew what it was about, you’d seen it in his face when the two of you were being intimate and he caught sight of the bandage, how he’d been completely distracted and tense for the rest of the evening, “That’s what this is about, right? All of this for a tiny cut on my shoulder that’s going to be gone within a week?” 

“Two inches to the right and that guy could slashed your throat,” He snapped, the truth a sore spot for him, and you shook your head, throwing your hands up in despair. 

“How many hits have you taken, Aaron, huh?” You bit back, and he ground his teeth for lack of response, “It’s an occupational hazard, it’s not a big deal, I mean Reid and Penelope have taken bullets for us, I just think you’re being a little overprotective here,”

“I can’t lose you, can you not see that?” He snarled back, his voice rising so high with his frustration he felt his cheeks warm, and in a split second he looked like a wounded animal stuck in a bear trap, cornered and scared and waiting on the inevitable. 

Your mouth dropped in guilt, the fight dying out of your chest because you got it then, you got it why he was being so defensive. He was too slow to stop something from happening to Hayley, and here, right in front of him, was his sparkly new girlfriend risking her life like that wouldn’t be anyone’s worst nightmare. 

You felt terrible, and judging by the way he seemed to bite the inside of his cheek, he did too. Perhaps for shouting at you, perhaps just for being too intense for a relatively new relationship, but before you could attempt to come to an understanding, Spencer opened the door, his eyes shooting between the two of you as the silence became a medium for your tension.

“Rossi wants to know if you guys are ready to head out?” He asked sheepishly, waiting for another snarl of anger from his boss, only to see Hotch looking more like he had a sour gummy shoved in his mouth as he avoided all eye contact. 

“We’re staying to do the profile, Spence,” You said solemnly, and he seemed to not want to poke at a sleeping bear, nodding and leading the two of you out to the drawing board, flicking one last look at Aaron where he was sorting some files around his desk, most likely looking for something to keep his shaking hands busy. 

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and tried to ignore the pain in your shoulder. 

–

He thinks you’ve probably caught the subway home with Spencer by the time they get back. The sixth floor is quiet, his bag heavy with the reports he could easily leave for Monday morning, except he wants to take his mind off the fight the two of you had. He cuts through the middle of the desks, Emily’s coffee cold and stale, Spencer’s cardigan stranded on his chair. He thinks about how he could show the youngest agent he’s sorry, because he shouldn’t have snapped like that, shouldn’t have made him feel small just because you were so totally in the right to be looking at him like that. 

He was immediately confronted with your coat and bag when he opened the door to his office, the two of them leaning against his filing cabinet like they were waiting for him, and he thought it was strange until he saw the culprit, or more so saw your shoes placed neatly under the sofa, your socked feet peeking over the end of the cushions. 

His gaze trailed to your face, calm and smoothed out, like he hadn’t seen the way a frown marred your face that moment he’d left the office as you’d been consulting the giant map he’d pinned up in the round table room. You were fast asleep, one hand tucked beneath your head as a pillow, your knees squishing out to accommodate your body on the two-seater.

Aaron drew a deep breath, gently sliding his bag off his shoulder and letting it sit on the floor beside your shoes, his hand immediately reaching for your calf with a gossamer soft embrace, his fingers squeezing you lightly and dancing up the length of your leg up to your hip. His other hand found home on your head, caressing the roots of your hair as he murmured your name. 

He said it again, a little louder, when you didn’t stir, and it was only then that your eyes fluttered behind your lids. Blinking slowly in the low light of his office, his desk lamp the only source of beige glow, you smiled on instinct when you saw his brown, puppy-dog stare, kicked and hurt as he looked down at you. 

Which was when it came back to you in a shooting pain, the last time you’d spoken, the tone and formality, as if he didn’t know you at all outside of these four walls. 

“You waiting for me?” He asked, his hand continuing its rhythm over your crown, and you nodded under his attentive gaze. 

“I didn’t want to go home alone, I wanted to make sure we were okay, and I knew you’d come here,” You said, and he smiled with an exhausted expression like he had the weight of the world bearing down on his back.

“Of course we’re okay, honey,” He replied, his hand migrating from your waist to grab your knuckles, bringing them to his dry lips to kiss softly. He sighed softly, looking down to where your fingers meshed together, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Or Reid. But especially not you,”

You let go of his rough fingers to bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently so he would look at you with those mournful noir hues. 

“Aaron, I’m gonna get bruised sometimes. This probably won’t be the last time, and it probably won’t be the worst one either,” He grit his teeth like the thought of it being even deeper, in an even more lethal spot, made him physically ill, “But I need you to trust in me, trust that I’m going to do everything to come home to you at the end of the day, the same way you do everything to come back to me. Alright?” 

Aaron sighed, leaning in to press his forehead to yours as you nudged your nose against his. 

“You make it so difficult for me to think straight when I’m meant to be your boss, you know that?” He murmured, and there was something boyishly teasing in his tone as he did so, so much so you smiled with him. Leaning in, you kissed him softly on the mouth, your hand moving to the back of his head to pull him closer 

“You will apologise, won’t you? For hurting Spencer’s feelings,” You implored, breaking away from the embrace for a moment, until Aaron tried to dodge your question by kissing over your jaw. But you stood your ground, despite the fact you felt your eyes fluttering in pleasure, “Aaron, he’s sensitive,” 

“First thing Monday morning, I promise,” He said, though you half guessed it was just to please you, since he was already aiming for your neck, his hand grazing the hem of your shirt. 

“So, I know we’re in work, but I take it this is boyfriend Aaron I have now,” He hummed in confirmation, your skin pliant and warm under his lips, and he caught the splutter in your breath when he kissed your jugular the way you liked, “Okay well seeing as you’re boyfriend Aaron, I got to tell you, honey, my boss was being a total worms-for-brains today,” 

Aaron stopped, drawing away to look you in the face where you hid a snicker, and he quickly found the humour in it too as his fingers gripped around your stomach, “Oh, so it’s like that is it?”

You went to say something in rebuttal, only to feel his hands quickly start tickling your stomach, and you squealed in protest, grabbing at his wrists in an attempt to stop him. But it was no use. Aaron’s laughs, tired and groaning as they were, filled his office, and yours quickly symphonied them.

You didn’t even get a chance to tell him that Spencer definitely, definitely knew you two were dating.  

[xvysarene]

𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔻𝕖𝕖𝕕

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You’re pretty good at running away.” Words: ~2.8k Genre: Eventual fluff A/N: In a writing slump and kinda dislike how this one turns out but oh wells

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“Marry me,” you had said.

Those two words—whether they were your saving grace or the beginning of your damnation, you weren’t sure.

Then, he surprised you when he said, “Okay.”

Nothing more and nothing less.

It almost felt like he had anticipated your arrival, barreling your way into the base upon learning of your father’s, one of Onychinus’s highest-ranking partners’, demise.

Seeing your stupefied expression, he nonchalantly shrugged. “It’s a practical solution to an unfortunate situation.”

That wasn’t your first time meeting Sylus, and you’d be far too naïve to think he would ever do anything for free. Every favour, every exchange, came with an unspoken contract—an inevitable quid pro quo.

But it was a choice between marrying him or being eaten alive in the N109 Zone.

“Although, I must ask—have you truly thought this through?” Sylus inquired, his gaze sharp.

There was a reason why you chose to move to Goldwood City once you had the chance; far away from the lawless land to start anew, free from the shadow of your father’s association.

As if the death of your mother caused by his recklessness years ago wasn’t enough, the old man had to pull you back into the very world you had succeeded to leave behind.

Staying away was a luxury you no longer had with your old man’s enemies haunting you.

Head held high, you met his gaze directly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of my choice.”

Oh, little did you know, that your return to the N109 Zone as Onychinus’s leader’s wife, would mean putting your heart on the line as well.

Perhaps it all started that one evening, when a nightmare jolted you awake, haunting you with the vision of your mother’s lifeless eyes and being captured by the people your father had entangled himself with.

Without even realising it, you were already standing at Sylus’s doorway. 

“Why?” he questioned when you asked if you could stay the night in his. “Something wrong with your room?”

Indeed, he offered you your own space even though you were legally husband and wife now. It had been a relief at first, a perfect arrangement, until the nightmares escalated.

“It just feels too quiet tonight,” you lied, unready to fully bare your soul.

Sylus finally looked up from the papers he’d been reading, one eyebrow arched. “Not used to being alone at night back in Goldwood?”

Your face flushed at the implication. Just as you opened your mouth to deny it, something in his expression shifted.

It was so fleeting and subtle that you weren’t even sure if you had imagined it.

He raised a hand, halting your reply. “Actually, never mind about it.”

When he simply returned to his papers, offering no clear sign of whether you were welcome, you frowned.

You were about to take your bruised pride back to your room when you heard him let out a resigned sigh. “Are you coming or no? You’re letting the draft in,” he said, pulling back the duvet on the vacant side, inviting you to settle in.

His acceptance was surprising, but you quickly climbed into bed before he could change his mind, feeling a surge of relief and security with him close by.

If you were too close for comfort, he didn’t mention it.

Sylus was so warm that you shuddered from the sudden temperature change. The base, with its perpetual chill, was a stark contrast to his body heat.

“What are you reading?”

“Mundane proposals,” he muttered, tone laced with boredom as his eyes skimmed the pages in front of him.

With your interest piqued, you scooted even closer, your hair slightly brushing his arm. “Anything I should know about?”

When you told him that you wouldn’t settle for being a trophy wife, he offered you an administrative position in Onychinus, which you happily accepted.

“I feel that these are better off in the trash.”

A small chuckle escaped you, drawing Sylus’s attention. He cast a glance downward, amused by your reaction.

That somewhat prompted him to give a brief outline of the proposal, perhaps to get him through it too. And he was right, it was so dull that you felt your eyes fluttering closed, lulled by the deep timbre of his voice.

“—heard that the twins take good care of you.”

“Hm?” You peeked one of your eyes open, though it was futile as it soon closed again.

Whenever he was away, Luke or Kieran—often both—were always by your side, becoming more than just your guards; they were your mentors, teaching you the complexities of Onychinus’s operations, and they were slowly becoming your…

Friends. A foreign term to you.

Friendship had never been something you could afford, not with the constant paranoia of trusting the wrong person, no thanks to your father.

In your drowsy state, you remembered mumbling, “I feel at ease when I’m with them.”

“At ease, huh? That’s a rare concept around here.” Sylus’s voice cut through the fog of your drowsiness.

Your mind, still wrapped in the haze of sleep, seemed to speak for itself. “You also make me feel more comfortable than I expected.”

Looking back, you laughed mirthlessly at your own stupidness. Where was that defense mechanism you had sworn was ingrained within you?

You knew better than to allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let someone slip past your guard easily in such a short span of time.

Especially someone like Sylus—a man cloaked in power, whose intentions were always enigmatic.

“You’re pretty good at running away.” The voice, carried by the wind, reached your ears. “Pretty good, but not the best.”

“Here to claim your bargaining tool back?”

His footsteps stopped a few paces away from you. Refusing to meet his gaze, you remained looking ahead. The once vibrant colours of sunset faded into darkness, as if the sky itself mirrored the ache seeping deep inside your soul.

Sylus let out a deep sigh. “How much did you know?”

A few days ago, while you were sorting through Onychinus’s papers, you stumbled upon an old, yellowed document hidden deep on a neglected shelf, seemingly placed there to remain undiscovered.

As you read through the faded ink—an exchange made between your father and Sylus a long time ago, marked with their signs and bloodied fingerprints—it felt as though you heard your old man laughing from his grave, determined to terrorise you even in death.

That bastard had sold you to Sylus, bartering your life for a sliver of power within the N109 Zone.

“Did you have fun watching me pathetically beg you to marry me? Knowing all along that you’ve owned me anyway?”

The memory of his calmness that day burned in the back of your mind. Your intuition was right after all, he had anticipated you coming to him.

And if you were honest with yourself, it wasn't even your father you were so angry with—you’d always known what a monster he was.

No, what burned like a hot iron in your chest was the sense of betrayal, the sting of disappointment aimed squarely at Sylus. 

How could you have been so blind, so gullible to believe that this man could be anything more than another player in your father’s ruthless game?

“I asked you that day if it was what you truly wanted,” he calmly said, “I never forced you to marry me.”

You bristled. He was right, of course.

“But you would make sure that one way or another, you would claim me as your possession, wouldn't you? Even from the moment we first met,” you spat.

It was a few years ago when you were first introduced to Sylus. Your mother had begged you to accompany her to a function, and how could you refuse when the guilt of leaving her in the N109 Zone with your father still weighed heavily on you?

For whatever reason you couldn’t understand, she had refused to move in with you.

The function was a blur of faces and conversations that made your head spin, the air thick with the aroma of expensive cigars and the tang of power.

You felt out of place, an outsider in a world that had once been your cage.

“Darling, I want you to meet someone.” Your mother’s tone was a strange mixture of joy and nervousness. She gently took your arm and guided you through the crowd until you stood before a tall figure, his presence commanding.

“This is Sylus, the leader of Onychinus,” she introduced. “He’s agreed to work with your father on some very important matters.”

You blinked in surprise. Somehow, you expected the leader of the most prominent organisation to be someone closer to your father’s age, but he was only a couple of years older than you.

Sylus’s features were sharp and striking, though it was his eyes that held you captive. They were intense, piercing, as if he could see right through you.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Y/N,” Sylus greeted. He took your hand in his, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Your mother’s keen eyes noticed the crimson that spread across your cheeks, her lips pursing to contain a smile.

“Oh, Sylus, no need for such formalities,” she said lightly, elbowing you to greet him back.

You tried to compose yourself, but his unexpected charm and the way he looked at you left you flustered. “I—uh, nice to meet you too," you managed to stammer.

“Your mother speaks highly of you,” his low voice sent tingling sensation on your insides.

The soft rustle of grass as Sylus settled beside you made your skin prickle. Stupidly, you still craved his closeness.

The nightmares had ceased when you began staying in his bedroom altogether, finding security in the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. But since fleeing the base, they returned relentlessly, creeping back each time you managed to get a shut eye.

He stretched out his long legs, the fabric of his jacket brushing against you slightly, his gaze fixed on the distant city lights glimmering on the horizon.

“I didn't want you to find out like this,” he finally said, voice low and measured, as if he had carefully chosen each word.

“Then enlighten me, Sylus, what was your grand plan? To control me? To tame me into the docile wife you always wanted me to be?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black box, pressing it into your hands. “This will explain better than any of my words.”

Slowly, you opened the latch, revealing a collection of emblems—some new, some tarnished—from various N109 Zone fractions. Resting on top of the seals was a folded envelope, its edges frayed.

Sylus nodded towards it, urging you to read the letter inside. As you unfolded the paper, the familiar handwriting of your mother’s came into view, despite the hurried and uneven scrawl.

What I could not say, his deeds will show. Have faith in him.

“Your mother approached me before the agreement with your father was finalised.” Sylus’s expression was unreadable. “She wanted me to protect you. From your father, and from anyone that might harm you.”

As the dots began to connect inside your spinning head, the realisation dawned. “And that’s why you asked for me in return? Why didn’t you tell me this when I first came to you?”

“Keeping you near would make it easier for me to ensure your safety, at least until I could handle all of your father’s enemies.” He shot you a sideways glance. “Do you think we’d be here now if I had laid it all out for you from the start?”

You both knew that if he had, you would have likely flipped him off and done everything in your power to escape his presence.

The cold metal emblems bit into your palm as you examined them, each one representing what had once been a looming threat. A deep understanding shifted your perspective entirely; this was what Sylus had been occupied with during the days he left you in the care of Luke and Kieran.

He had been thoroughly hunting down your father’s enemies, your nightmare, to ensure that you could finally be free from them.

It wasn’t his incompetence that had kept him from finding you days after your escape. No, he had been securing the final pieces of your freedom.

“What did you ask from my mother then? There must have been something you got, that’s how you grant wishes.”

Sylus gave a soft huff, as if he was on the verge of a chuckle, and shook his head. “Contrary to popular belief, I do grant wishes without expecting anything back.”

Your eyes flicked to him in surprise as he continued, “Nothing. I asked for nothing in return. Your mother earned my respect, and that was enough.”

Everyone understood that dealing with Sylus was a risk, a gamble that could even cost you your life.

Studying him intently, you searched for any trace of deception, but all you discovered was a grave sincerity. His eyes were unnervingly tender when he watched the shock painting your face.

“I’ve kept my promise to your mother. You're a free woman now, free to do whatever you want.” Sylus broke eye contact then, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he added, “We can also get a divorce.”

A divorce.

The word set something unsettling that clawed at your insides, sinking deep into your core, and catching you completely off guard.

For a moment, your mind replayed the way his intense red eyes met yours with kindness, to his touch that held a tenderness that couldn't be faked, and the subtle ways he had shown his care for nearly half a year now.

You hugged your knees tighter, the cold ground beneath you contrasting sharply with the warmth of your memories. “Is that what you want? For us to go separate ways?”

“What I want,” he began slowly, “never matters. This has always been about you. Your choice.”

A second passed, then ten, before you quietly whispered, “What if I choose to stay with you then?”

It was as if a wall had been erected again.

“You are not thinking with your head right now, but with your heart. You trusted me because you saw me as your only lifeline.” His voice was rough, edged with frustration.

“But what if underneath the leader of Onychinus, underneath the man that everyone fears, is the one I want to stay with, the one I feel at ease with? Not because of my father’s shadows nor his enemies.”

Sylus breath hitched, a sudden tension rippling through his frame as he struggled to keep his composure. “You don’t know me.”

His voice carried a warning, attempting to push you away, but you stood your ground.

In that moment, you understood why he often held himself back, creating distance whenever he found himself growing too close.

He was afraid of caring for you beyond what he thought his promise to your mother allowed, struggling to maintain the balance between his feelings and his commitment, fearing that crossing that line would mean violating his duty.

“Then show me.” You moved closer, invading his personal space. “Show me what’s behind all this.”

With resolve burning in your eyes, you cupped his face and leaned in. Your lips sought his, praying you hadn't misread him all this time.

That you wanted the warmth and tenderness you’d glimpsed in fleeting moments to be real and not just a reflection of your own desires.

For a breathless moment, he remained still. Then, something in him seemed to break, a crack in his armour. Strong, corded arms slid around you, pulling you closer until you both tumbled back onto the grass, entwined.

His hand brushed the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips pressed into yours with a ravenous need.

It was a kind of kiss that laid bare the truth, shattered every wall, and left you panting for air.

Your breaths intermingled when you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. There was a vulnerable openness in there, a look concealed beneath the hardened exterior.

“You never read my mother’s letter, did you?” you suddenly asked him.

Confusion flickered in his eyes, his brows knitting together as he shook his head. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the letter from the box and held it up between you.

The dim light from the horizon cast soft shadows on the small message scribbled on the bottom of the paper.

Sylus’s eyes traced the words, his gaze shifting from the letter to your face as the message slowly registered.

Sylus—remember that you, too, deserve love just as much as she does.

It was as though your mother had not only seen the heart within him, but had also foreseen what he had struggled to admit.

With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed against his cheek, lips featherlight as it brushed against his once more. “Take me home, Sy.”

[itachiiwrites]

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female!reader

Content and Warnings: Drabble? MDNI, 18+ smut, This is so rushed oh my god, handjobs, cumplay, husband and wife, satoru being satoru, sub satoru, he's down bad, satoru has a thing for boobs..

Imagine the strongest who's a ruthless dirty dog to the curses and his enemies but he absolutely falls apart at your touch...yeah.

Giving Satoru a handjob after he came back from work was always a delight. Currently he's sprawled on the couch, his legs spread apart and his cock getting pumped at a leisurely pace. Deep, throaty moans and whimpers leave his mouth with whispers of your name like a writ. All this with an unwavering, doting eye contact.

It makes him lose his mind.

"Baby.. shit, kept thinking about this all day.." He reached out his hand to settle onto your tits, immediately to get slapped away, a petulant groan leaving his lips.

"Mean.. you're so mean to your hardworking husband.." He grinned consecutively after a pout, speaking in all the unseriousness, so characteristic of him, his voice laced with tease as his breathes start to race at you fisting his large cock, bubbling with pre.

"Shut up..this is what you get eating away my last dango.." You scolded, squeezing his dick a little too hard which made him shudder, but so turned on that his eyes almost rolled back to their sockets as he smiled lopsidedly. Shit. He was so hot.

"Come on..I missed my girls so much, lemme touch..let me cum on them, or else I'll die..please please please.." He whined dramatically, keeping up his antics even now. The man gropped onto your mounds almost frantically as he bucked his hips into your hand now jerking him off with more vigour.

You oblige to his request anyway, your considerateness going onto how maybe he just had a rough day even though there's a hint of exasperation on your face watching him vigorously move his hand up and down on his cock that was so dumb for you while you hold out your tits for him on your knees, both pressed together in a cleavage.

"Fuck..yeah..keep holding them like that, wifey.." In a string of deep moans and whimpers, he finally cums, painting your breasts with his sticky, ropey cum, some of it splashing onto your chin and neck.

"You're so hot when you're mad.." He grins like an idiot, tipping your chin up to look into your eyes adorningly and you couldn't help yourself from feeling your cheeks heat up at his boyish charm. At this point, his cock had a mind of his own, a low groan leaving his lips as he watched his seed tricking onto your pert nipples, getting impossibily hard.

"You need to return the favour now.." You sulked, even though you didn't mind being the giver. You were just playing pretend mad because you were liking your husband's seamless attention.

"With pleasure!" He exclaimed, picking you up and putting you on the couch, getting on his knees without a second thought, as if this was this final thing he'd do on earth. He spreads your legs, drinking in your pussy like his last meal and he wouldn't stop until you fist his hair and forcefully push him away. ♡

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

More on m.list!

[clare-875]

Habits of Touch (Zoro, Sanji, Luffy)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Zoro x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Luffy x Reader Summary: His favorite time/way to share physical affection with you. Warnings: Fluff, Slightly suggestive Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2] _____

- Zoro - Kisses and Workouts

Zoro thought that he enjoyed his solitude during training. He thought that the thrumming waves paired with the pumping of his heart were all he needed for a successful workout. Well, that was until you. Now Zoro finds his focus faltering when he sees a lack of your presence in the Crowsnest as he works; it distracts him when the room is not filled with the vibrance of you. It distracts him more than if you were present, which is saying something. Watching Zoro work was one of your favourite pastimes; how could it not be? His form built under years of training gleaming with sweat would have your face flushed as he smirked at your unwavering gaze. But recently these distractions have poured into you approaching the man as he worked, and you being incorporated into the workouts as he trains. Pushups? Of course, he has you underneath him, the rise and fall of his warmth as you capture his lips while you laugh, noticing the blush that covers his face. Does he need an extra "weight" as he works? Of course, you are on his back or have your arms wrapped around him as he squats down while you tell him about your day. You found early on that you barely affected his training; you were lighter than a feather to him. But maybe that is why he didn't find himself minding or sometimes even craving your warmth and hands as he worked; It was a bonus that wouldn't hinder his workout but would increase your company and your touch.

There would be many times you take your teasing too far, liking the way you so easily influenced his concentration or the flush on his face. However, that would merely cause his touch to roam upon you too, but in a different way. The crow's nest was rarely occupied by other crewmembers and the two of you would take that to your advantage. In the privacy of the room, you would find yourself entangled with him as he pours feverish kisses on your skin. In the solace of just you and him, Zoro finds the walls he keeps up firmly thawing as he responds to your touch eagerly, placing strong hands about your form. It is in these times of quiet that you and he show physical affection the most; Zoro being one to not favour much PDA. But you didn't mind, because it made those moments with him even more treasured; the moments when you could show him the love you hold, and he could do the same in return. It was so easy to get him distracted; you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Zoro~" You mumble as you look at him as he works and you approach, before sitting purposely on his back as he continues on his thousandth push-up. He barely falters when you do continuing like you weren't atop him; like he couldn't hear the teasing tone laced in your words. You would sit up against him as he moves beneath you and leave soft and gentle kisses down his neck. That's when he falters; your touch already riling him up. "[y/n]" Zoro's voice is strained as he tries to continue his workout, but now your hands start to move gently about him and he finds himself enraptured by you. He lets out a low groan that almost sounds like a growl as he flips you over so you are now beneath him and not on his back. Then he encompasses you with a heated kiss, his movements taking you by surprise so much you can barely respond. "You'll be the death of me, woman."

- Sanji - Back Hugs and Cooking

It may not surprise you to know, that Sanji loves to be touching you and to be with you as often as it is realistically possible. Ever considerate of your feelings, he will give you space if you please but just know that he always craves your presence. How could he not? He, the man who constantly showered women with his adoration never thought that his crewmember would return the same adoration for him. Though he still cherishes the women of the crew and showers them with a kind of respect that is honestly unmatched, he only yearns for you. His favourite form of physical affection, however, though perhaps surprising, is in the quiet and domestically suited times you share. Namely, the times you would join him in the kitchen. There, when he would finally let you help him with meals, you would feel gentle hands and his warm form around you; it envelops you. He would guide your hands to carve intricately into ingredients you chop or help you stir a meal as you hovered over it upon a stove. Even when these actions are so simple you scarcely need the guidance of the gifted chef, maybe it is just in the intimacy of it all; like it was just you and him.

Sanji loves that.

Loved the thought that one day maybe it would be just the two of you; it was all the thoughts that filled him as he looked at your beautiful form gracing his kitchen. Sometimes it would make Sanji sentimental; he never knew someone would be capable of loving him the way that you do. He especially adores when the roles are almost reversed and it is your smaller frame that hugs him from behind as he works. It would sometimes take him by surprise until he realised it was just you and your warmth that had encapsulated his figure. You loved it too. The sounds of him working as you leaned against him gently, his form almost making you drowsy as he worked on dinner. It made Sanji's heart erratic the first time you did it, to the point where you had to frantically call for Chopper as he passed out in your hold. Now, however, it is almost routine. Cooking was Sanji's most treasured time and now he spends it with you, the one he loves. Though sometimes you would merely watch him as he works from the dining table, you feel his love most in his guided actions as he envelops you, and he feels a sense of peace whenever he works and feels you do the same.

"Mon Amour, are you tired?"

Sanji's voice is soft as he sorts through ingredients for the night's dinner and you hug him sleepily from behind. You would nuzzle your face into his back and sigh contentedly. "No," you mumble into him though fatigue is clearly laced in your words. You feel the soft rumble of gentle laughter break free from Sanji as he adores every form of you, including your tired one. It makes your own smile grow on your face as you lean more into him and he feels your embrace tighten around him slightly. "I love you." You almost sigh your oath into his back but you find yourself questioning if he has heard it when he doesn't immediately reply. But then, there is a pause in his movements and you wonder what is wrong as a slight silence takes over. He would turn around and your eyes would widen at the sight of tears almost skimming his eyes. "I love you more, my love."

- Luffy - Hand Holding and Adventure

Luffy is always keen for new adventures; of people, places and obscure things he hasn't seen nor experienced before. He is easily excitable as the crew approaches another Island, barely waiting for the ship to dock before he jumps gleefully onto land. It makes Nami roll her eyes as she looks to her Captain and then she would often turn to you. "I don't know how you put up with that." Her voice is laced with a heavy sigh and you smile, but then it is replaced by the spike of your heart when you feel a familiar arm wrap itself around you a few times over. "Wait Luffy-" But it is already too late, you hear the bubbling sound of his laughter as he almost flings you off the ship to his side. For a moment the world turns in your head until you fall into the rubber boy and his gleaming smile. "[y/n]! Come on, let's go explore the island!" You are in a daze but quickly shake off your surprise, it was a constant occurrence. Yes, Luffy adored adventure, but he finds pleasure in it most when he is with you. Thus comes the tight grip of his hand on yours, or the envelopment of your figure as he drags you around the Island; the constant want to have you beside him on his adventure.

His warmth never falters on you, it is always constant around your hand as he pulls you to every aspect of the new space he has yet to explore. You adore it, his gleaming eyes as he turns back to you after running around, gaze surprisingly calm as he makes sure you are still with him. You adore how he holds your form so gently though his movements are sometimes reckless in his excitement. You adore that he wants you by his side on his journey and he will not be content unless you are. It is always the same call, "[y/n], let's go!" Followed always by his warmth and sure grip. Some people may think that Luffy's dreams were confined to his nakama and to becoming the pirate king, but he found that dream fruitless unless you were there to witness it; to witness his adventure and to witness his ambition become reality. He would pout and whine when you didn't come along with him; maybe you had plans with other crewmembers, errands or were simply not feeling it. But it is merely because he loves you, and he wants you by him as he discovers what the world has to offer.

"Hey, [y/n]!" You look up in time to see that Luffy had skewers packed with meat on them; six to be exact. "Try one!" Luffy's face was already full of it and whilst in one hand he held out the skewers to you, the other was still wrapped loosely around yours. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at the gesture but smile and take one from his grasp, "Thanks Luffy." He grins widely as you take a bite, but you barely have enough time to see his eyes flicker; something else has gathered his interest. "[y/n], Takoyaki! Let's go!" Before you knew it he was flying through the streets of the town, dragging you with him. You have to hold your breath at the speed he moves but you find yourself laughing out with him. Of course, it would be this way; it was Luffy. And the day was exciting and eventful and tiring because what day wouldn't be so if you had him by your side? At the end of it, the two of you were found by your crewmembers on the deck of the ship, sleeping against one another peacefully and with Luffy's hand still tight within yours.

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - An Alliance of Seduction

Summary - A cunning princess uses her allure to seduce Lord Stark, blending political ambition with primal desire. Her bold seduction turns their fiery union into a high-stakes dance of control, pleasure, and conquest, securing an alliance that tilts the balance of power in her favour.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!)

Word count - 2368

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

If there's one thing I knew how to do well, it was getting what I wanted. My current ambition was clear, to secure the North for my brother.

I dismounted my dragon with ease, Silverwing's discomfort in the cold evident in her every mannerism. No one understood her better than I did.

"Lykirī," I murmured softly, my fingers gently tracing the delicate patterns on her scales. She relaxed slightly under my touch, her breath warm and steady. Calm.

After a final reassuring pat, I carefully removed my gloves, letting them drop beside Silverwing, then peeled off my large coat. 

I exhaled deeply, focusing on the task ahead with a calm, deliberate resolve. I had prepared myself for this moment, and now it was time to execute my plan.

It didn't take long to determine the location of Lord Stark, and, regrettably, that of my nephew as well. My pace was unhurried as I approached the chamber door. When I reached it, I paused for a moment, my hand resting on the cool wood, before pushing it open with a gentle, almost calculated force. 

The door creaked slightly, drawing the attention of both men inside, their gazes snapping toward me.

"Princess?" Cregan's voice held a note of surprise, but I offered him a warm, confident smile as I stepped further into the room.

"Nephew," I greeted Jace with a purposeful tone, noting the subtle tightening of his jaw as he clenched it. I watched as he set down the drink he'd been holding, his movements betraying a flicker of unease.

"I believe it is my turn to state my case," I announced, my voice carrying a sharp edge of determination.

Cregan's eyes darted between us, trying to gauge the situation. Jace, sensing the shift, let out a resigned sigh and rose to his feet with deliberate slowness.

"It's only fair that both sides are given an equal chance," I continued, my gaze never wavering from Jace's. "We should play fair, nephew."

Jace offered a curt nod, his displeasure evident in his posture. Without another word, he turned and made his way out of the room, his exit marked by a glance that conveyed just how little he enjoyed leaving me alone with Cregan.

As Jace's figure disappeared beyond the door, I shifted my attention back to Cregan, who sat observing the exchange with a blend of intrigue and cautious interest. 

"Lord Stark," I finally acknowledged him, inclining my head slightly in a gesture of respect.

He moved to stand, but I quickly interjected, my voice firm yet polite. "Please, stay seated." I crossed the room toward him with a purposeful stride, my movements fluid and intentional.

"It's rather cold here," I remarked, my tone almost conversational as I began to untie the laces of my dress. 

His eyes followed my every movement with a mixture of fascination and disbelief, and a quiet sense of satisfaction stirred within me.

"Princess, what are you doing?" His voice wavered slightly, betraying his internal conflict as he watched the fabric of my dress slip from my shoulders, pooling at my feet and leaving me bare before him.

I took the seat opposite him, reclining with an air of nonchalance as I crossed my legs, my posture both inviting and commanding. 

"Perhaps you have a solution to warm me up," I suggested, my voice laced with a sultry undertone that left little to the imagination.

"Losing your clothes is certainly not the solution," he replied, though his gaze continued to roam over my body, betraying the wariness in his words.

"Are you saying you would prefer me dressed?" I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping to a hushed, intimate tone as my eyes locked onto his.

"I am not a fool," he stated, his tone firm but lacking the conviction it had held moments before. A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of my lips.

"Good," I whispered, rising from my seat with a feline grace and closing the distance between us. I could feel the tension radiating from him, his resolve faltering.

Reaching out, I traced a finger along the line of his jaw, reveling in the shiver that ran through him at my touch. 

"The North can be so cold, Lord Stark. Don't you think it deserves a little warmth?" My words were soft, almost a purr, as I leaned in closer.

His breath hitched, the moment stretching between us. I knew then, without a shadow of doubt, that I had him.

I pushed him back gently, guiding him until his back met the chair. With careful precision, I lifted myself onto his lap, straddling him. One hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, while the other threaded through his hair.

"I can offer you something my nephew cannot," I murmured into his ear, my breath warm against his skin. My lips hovered close, brushing against his ear as I whispered the words that would change everything. "My hand in marriage."

I leaned back slightly, ensuring that our eyes met, I wanted him to fully grasp the weight of my offer, to feel the gravity of what I was proposing.

"A powerful alliance," I continued, my voice silky and assured. I could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, his mind working to process the implications of my words. 

His gaze flickered across my face, as though searching for any sign of deception, but there were none.

A small, satisfied smile played on my lips. I had him.

"Pledge your support for my brother," I purred, leaning in closer, my voice dripping with promise, "and you can have me." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Do it, and I'm yours forever."

My hand traced a slow path down his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of his clothes. Reaching his hand, I guided it upward, bringing it to rest on my chest. I cupped his hand around my breast, savoring the thrill that ran through me at his touch.

I could feel him unraveling under my influence and it was immensely satisfying.

"All yours," I whispered, letting my hand drop away, leaving his to linger. As I expected, his fingers tightened slightly, squeezing, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped my lips.

"What do you say, Lord Stark?" I asked, my voice a low, seductive drawl as I removed his hand from me, pinning it to the armrest of the chair.

"It sounds like a wonderful plan to me, Princess," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with desire. I chuckled quietly, the sound rich with triumph.

"Then, Lord Stark," I said, my voice commanding yet teasing, "I believe it is your duty to keep this dragon warm." I shifted slightly, giving him the space to remove his pants, the fabric rustling in the silence of the room.

As he did, the heat of his desire became tangible, matching my own. I moved closer, pressing myself against him, feeling the raw, potent power of our connection.

"Let's seal our alliance," I whispered, my lips brushing his ear with a featherlight touch. "Right here, right now." 

The words were both an invitation and a command, the final step in binding him to me in every way.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from his lips. 

Slowly, I began to stroke his length, savoring the way he responded to my touch. Each stroke was deliberate, my fingers curling around his shaft, exploring every inch of him. The thrill of his pleasure sent a shiver down my spine.

His breathing grew ragged, his body trembling beneath my hand. I could feel the tension building within him, his need for me becoming more urgent with each passing moment. His eyes met mine, filled with a burning desire that mirrored my own.

"You feel so good," I murmured, my voice low and sultry.

I increased the pace of my strokes, watching his face contort with pleasure. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white, as he struggled to maintain control.

With a wicked smile, I leaned in closer, my breasts brushing against his chest. 

"Imagine how it will feel when I'm wrapped around you," I whispered, my breath hot against his ear. His cock twitched in my hand, a clear sign of his arousal reaching its peak.

Unable to wait any longer, I lifted myself slightly and guided him to my entrance. His eyes widened in anticipation, and I could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath my touch. 

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, the sensation of him filling me sending waves of pleasure through my body. The heat and hardness of him against my core was intoxicating. 

My breath caught in my throat as I took him deeper, the stretch and fullness creating a delicious tension that made my entire body tingle with anticipation.

I paused for a moment, savouring the fullness, the way his length filled every inch of me. My hips instinctively rolled in slow, deliberate movements, each move designed to drive us both closer to the edge.

His hands gripped my hips tightly, his touch both firm and sensual as he matched my rhythm. The friction between us built steadily, creating a delicious tension that seemed to electrify the air.

His eyes never left mine, the intensity of his gaze deepening the connection between us. The way he looked at me, with such raw desire, made me feel like the only person in the world. 

"You're mine now," I whispered fiercely, my voice thick with possessive hunger. 

I quickened my pace, riding him with an unrestrained fervour that left him gasping for breath. I leaned back, supporting myself on his thighs, giving him a full view of my body as I took him deeper and deeper inside me. 

The sight of his eyes locked on mine, the way he looked at me with sheer amazement, only spurred me on.

His hands roamed my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin. His fingers traced the lines of my ribs, skated over my waist, and cupped my breasts, his touch igniting a fire within me. 

"You're incredible," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "I can't resist you."

I smirked, knowing I had completely enchanted him. The way he responded to every movement, and every touch, made me feel powerful and desired. 

"Good," I replied breathlessly. "Don't resist. Give in to me."

I leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Our mouths moved together with a hunger that matched the raw, primal need in our bodies. His tongue danced against mine, exploring, claiming, as I continued to move on top of him. 

"More," he begged against my lips, his voice strained. "I need more."

I grinned wickedly, breaking the kiss and shifting our positions. I pushed him down onto the floor, straddling him with a commanding presence. I pinned his wrists above his head, my fingers pressing down firmly yet gently. 

"Watch me," I commanded, my voice a husky growl. "Watch me take you."

I rode him hard and fast, my movements wild and unrestrained. His eyes were locked onto mine, filled with a mixture of awe and desire that only fueled my movements. Each thrust brought us closer to the edge, our bodies moving together in a frenzied dance of passion.

"You're a true dragon," he panted, his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he struggled to maintain control. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Then don't," I whispered fiercely, my voice a seductive command.

With a final, powerful thrust, he cried out, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. The intensity of his orgasm triggered my own, sending me into a blissful shattering of sensation. Waves of pleasure radiated through my body, my cries mingling with his as we both reached the peak of our passion.

But Cregan wasn't done. With a surge of strength and determination, he flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. The look in his eyes was feral, reflecting the primal hunger that consumed us both. 

"My turn," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

Before I could respond, he was moving inside me again, his pace relentless and demanding. He pinned my wrists above my head, his grip firm yet tender, and leaned down to claim my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue explored my mouth with a newfound urgency as if he couldn't get enough of me.

The change in position drove him deeper, and I cried out in pleasure, arching my back to meet his thrusts. "Yes, Cregan," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper. "Take me. Claim me."

His eyes burned with intensity as he pounded into me. "You're mine," he growled, his breath hot against my ear. "All mine."

He released my wrists, his hands roaming over my body, his touch was both rough and tender, a perfect blend.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. "Cregan," I gasped, my voice trembling with need. "I need you."

He lifted his head, his eyes locking onto mine. "You have me," he said, his voice a low, husky growl. "All of me."

His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he drove into me with renewed intensity. The force of his thrusts sent me spiralling towards another climax, the tension coiling tighter within me. 

"Let go, my dragon." he commanded, his voice rough with need. 

With a final, powerful thrust, we both reached the peak of our pleasure once more. Our cries echoed through the room, a symphony of passion and release. I felt myself shatter around him, the waves of pleasure more intense than before. 

He followed me over the edge, his release flooding inside me, filling me completely.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed against me, our bodies slick with sweat. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as we came down from our high. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, a steady reminder of the bond we had forged.

In that moment, I knew I had achieved my ambition. 

If there was one thing I knew how to do well, it was getting what I wanted, and tonight, I had secured the North for my brother in a way that no one else could.

A/n - Wrote 'The Art of Persuasion' and immediately knew I wanted to do a Cregan version as well even though we know full well he's team black for life xx

[zaldritzosrose]

Can't Stay Away (Feyd-Rautha x Princess!Reader)

Summary: Second daughter of the Emperor and you were well used to being ignored in favour of your sister. That was, until you met Feyd-Rautha, nephew to the Harkonnen Baron. A tourney of old, bringing back the traditions of champions and favours brought him to your side - but how close would he stay?

TW: Minors DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, mild mentions of neglect towards reader (ignored in favour of Irulan), Feyd being a flirt, hot and heavy making out, fingering, lashings of sexual tension.

I've taken a couple of liberties with the veils the Bene Gesserit/Irulan seem to wear - making it an honour to see a Sister/Princess' face and given meaning to the paint on Feyd before the arena...because why not it's my story!

(There will be a part 2...maybe 3...I have no self control)

Words: 3508

THANK YOU to @tumblin-theworldaway for not only being patient over this but for listening to my months of related brain rot! I love you!

Being second to the Imperial heir had not always felt like a task. As a child, you did not mind being sent off to other tasks while Irulan was coached in the ways of an Empress. Your father had you both trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, and as a child it made you feel incredibly important. Being at the Reverend Mother’s side, and at times the only time you were ever praised for something you had achieved.

But the older you got, the more the feeling of being ignored crept in. Men would seek out Irulan's favour, not yours. Visitors would spend hours speaking to the elder princess before speaking to you. Irulan was the interesting one. She was heir, it made sense for her to be the one they wished to gain the favour of.

Second daughter, second best. You understood it, deep down, but that did not stop the hurt it caused.

Despite this, you always accompanied your father and sister on the planetary tours, following along as the Emperor would visit all his people and be lavished with grand feasts and parties as a welcome. Every House from Arrakis to Zanovar were granted a visit from their Emperor, some were happier about it than others.

Despite the tensions on Arrakis, the word of the ‘Messiah’ reaching the Emperor’s ears and being ignored and the rumours that the Emperor had ordered the end of House Atreides, the Imperial Tours continued.

Giedi Prime was the next stop. The home of the Harkonnens. You had heard of the Harkonnens. Fearsome warriors. Terrifying. Bloodthirsty. Brutal. In all honesty, they had fascinated you for the longest time. The manipulations that led to their rise. Their bloodstained history with House Atreides. You had read as much as you had been able to find.

And their welcome? A tournament, a battle of strength and brutality to impress their Emperor. Harking back to days of old when knights would compete in feats of battle prowess to show off. Men from all the Great Houses and more came to compete, including Feyd-Rautha. The Baron's nephew did not hesitate to volunteer to represent his people in something so prestigious.

The Imperial Ship landed and you, your sister and the Emperor were quickly greeted by the Baron and his nephews. You stood to your father’s left, Irulan at his right. Feyd’s eyes stayed on you, though you had not noticed yet. Trailing from the gold and pearl veil over your face, down to the matching white lace and gold dress that both clung and flowed over your body perfectly. He glanced briefly at Irulan, her silver and chainmail contrasting you, but his eyes ultimately returned to you.

"Your Imperial Graces, may I introduce my nephews," the Baron began, gesturing first to his elder nephew and then the younger as he spoke.

"Beast-Rabban and Feyd-Rautha."

Both men bowed, following their uncle's lead. First to the Emperor, then Irulan and then you. The order of importance seemed clear, as usual. But as his head raised, Feyd met your gaze and held it. Cool blue eyes boring into yours and you could not look away.

Your father nodded his head in thanks as did Irulan, but you...

You still stared at Feyd. Something about him, the way he held your gaze. The faint smirk forming on his lips. You could not do anything but stare.

His smile widened, black painted teeth on show as he stepped forward and taking your hand in his, a gesture that shocked even you. His lips found the back of it, pressing a surprisingly gentle but lingering kiss to your skin. No one ever focused on you like this, not when you stood by Irulan. It was something you had gotten quite accustomed to.

But the rough scratch of his fingers around yours, the heat of his lips on your skin, was enough to have you blushing. Then he spoke. His voice low, sending a shiver down your spine.

"A pleasure to meet you, princess."

The Emperor and the Baron led you, Irulan and the Baron’s nephews back inside the Harkonnen fortress. Despite trying not to, your focus always seemed to return to Feyd. The way he moved with confidence, the small glances he gave you with that smirk still on his lips.

Irulan was at your father’s side, as usual. Rabban walked beside the Baron. Which left you and Feyd behind that line. You were not purposely walking at his side, but you soon noticed that Feyd had fallen into step with you. Slowing his pace to match yours.

You kept your gaze forward, but you could feel his eyes on you. Like a predator and you were no more than prey. You knew you would be the one to break the silence before Feyd did.

“Are you looking forward to the tournament, Feyd?” You asked, glancing to the side to see him, as expected, staring at you as he walked.

Feyd hummed low in response before answering. You began to wonder how he was being so mindful of where he was going, whilst keeping his eyes on you.

“A fight is always welcome, princess. Are you excited for it?”

You did not answer immediately. No answer you gave, you felt, was ever interesting enough. Or at least, not in your past experiences. But, to your surprise, Feyd seemed genuinely interested.

“I am intrigued, to say the least. It is not often a House welcomes us with such an event.”

Feyd only nodded, before holding out his hand to stop you moving further forward. It was only then that you noticed you had reached the doors to the Harkonnen fortress. You had been so distracted by the man beside you, you had ignored your surroundings.

“After you, princess,” Feyd offered, holding out an arm to allow you to walk ahead.

You walked on, hearing Feyd’s boots against the floor behind you. Your father, sister and the Baron and his nephew were ahead of you. And your father had not looked back once to check on you, something you were well used to. But Feyd had noticed too.

His head tilted in curiosity but said nothing on the topic. He followed you inside, eyes glancing occasionally between you and your father, noticing the seemingly longing look you held. As the Baron led the Emperor and Irulan into the dining hall, you seemed to hang back, like you were waiting for permission to follow them.

When that did not come, you folded your hands before you and turned from the door.

“Are you not joining them?” Feyd asked, genuinely surprised at the situation.

Your head hung low, and you simply shook it.

“Not if I am not invited. Irulan is heir, not I,” You said simply and began walking away without a second glance.

You assumed Feyd would join his uncle and brother. But the sound of footsteps behind you told you otherwise. You did not look back as you walked, though in truth, you had no idea where you were walking to. You simply wished to be away. Feyd followed silently, only interfering when he felt the need to steer you somewhere specific.

“Princess, follow me, I have somewhere more comfortable you could wait over walking the halls?”

Feyd was not sure why, but he felt the need to be at your side. A strange draw that seemed to tug at his gut and keep him at your side. He was a man of pleasure, or so most people said. He held little care for the feelings of others.

Yet with you, he wanted to know. No, he needed to know. To know what bothered you. To know why your eyes dipped to the floor after looking at your father and sister. Why you seemed surprised from the moment he paid you attention upon your arrival. He was curious as to why you seemed to try to hide your presence at any given moment.

But he said nothing. He would not even know where to begin if he wanted to. Instead, he walked in silence, leading you to a wide balcony that looked out on to the expanse of Giedi Prime.

You took your seat and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until you were called by one of your father’s attendants.

You listened politely as you walked beside your sister, Irulan’s arm linked with yours this time as you followed your father and the Baron towards the arena. Irulan talked on about how the tournament would work, that you, her and some other noble ladies from the Houses would choose their own champion to fight the tournament in their name.

It reminded you of the tourneys of old. Where knights fought for princesses and ladies to win favour. You had read so many stories, fairytales of times that were now a faraway memory. The idea fascinated you as much as the Harkonnens did. You were about to ask Irulan more, when your father turned to speak. To both of you, for once.

“My daughters, you will allow the ladies from the Great Houses to choose their champions, then you will choose.”

That confused you both, but you had little choice but to agree. He was the Emperor first, your father second.

You watched warriors from each Great House and some minor Houses line up before you, Irulan and the other gathered ladies with interest. And you could not hide your smile when Feyd stepped forward and joined them.

One by one, champions were picked. Irulan chose first out of the two of you, not surprisingly choosing a Corrino soldier as her champion. There were more warriors than ladies to choose, and Feyd remained in those waiting. That surprised you. He was known for his fighting ability, so you did not understand why he had not been chosen. Which only solidified your own choice.

“Princess, your choice of champion please?” the Harkonnen announcer asked, gesturing to the men before you.

Purely for the suspense, you paused before answering. Mere seconds, allowing you to enjoy the small amount of attention focused solely on you.

“I choose Feyd-Rautha.”

Everyone looked shocked, including your father and sister. Everyone, but Feyd. His smirk wide as he stepped forward, taking your hand as he had when you arrived. Eyes locked to yours as he pressed his lips to your knuckles.

“I shall win well for you, my princess.”

You were not sure if it was traditional, but Feyd had asked you to see him before the tournament. A guard led you silently to a round chamber, with only a black stone table in the centre, holding weapons of different kinds. You stood out so starkly against the black stone, the faint lights making the pearls on your veil shimmer ever so slightly.

Feyd was stood in the centre, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks you realised he wore only an intricately wrapped loin cloth.

“Princess, I appreciate you agreeing to come,” Feyd called as he strode to your side.

He smirked as he watched you avert your gaze from his bare chest. In his hand, he held a bowl of what looked like black paint. It was only when he tapped the stone bowl did your eyes find it. You looked back at him curiously.

“You are my champion, it would be rude not to,” you said softly, your eyes still looking at the bowl.

It was only then that you noticed there was no one else in the room. Something that seemed extremely unusual.

“Do you normally prepare for a fight alone?” you asked, eyes flitting around the room and back to him, now trained solely on his face.

Feyd chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that you found yourself wanting to hear again.

“No, usually I am surrounded by servants and guards. But I thought I would try something different today. It’s a special day after all.”

He held the bowl up, tipping it slightly to move the paint. Your eyes watched it with interest, it slowly dawning on you what it was for. You had read up on the Harkonnens and Giedi Prime before you arrived, there was more lore to research than you had anticipated. One thing, now, came to your mind.

“Am I to paint you, Feyd?”

That earned you another chuckle. Though Feyd was actually quite surprised you knew of any Harkonnen traditions.

“I thought it would be interesting, to prepare your champion for battle, hmm?” he asked, holding the bowl out to you, careful however not to get the ink black liquid on your white dress.

You nodded, confusing him when you turned away from him. But what you did next, was not what he expected. Slowly, you lifted the veil that had covered your face since your arrival. Finally revealing your full appearance to him.

And you were beautiful.

“Then I suppose it is only fair I let you look at me while I do so.”

What Feyd did not realise, was the importance of what seemed like a small gesture. Almost all those trained by the Bene Gesserit veiled themselves in some way. The Princesses most of all. But Feyd knew even now, he was being honoured by you.

“Thank you, princess.” Was all he could manage, any words he said would never be quite enough, he felt.

You returned to his side, only now looking down at the full form of him. Thick muscle covered him from shoulder and down. A body sculpted for war, it seemed. And it was now a body that would fight in your name.

Feyd held out the bowl, watching with curious eyes as you took it and moved to stand at his back. He opened his mouth to instruct you but was stopped by the cold sensation of paint on his skin. You felt him stiffen a little and continued to paint as you explained.

“I have done my research before coming here. My father always tells me it is best to know our hosts,” you said simply, as if that should be enough to explain why you so easily began painting him.

He said nothing as you finished his back, the feeling of the paint drying telling him where you had painted each square and line. It fascinated him that you had so quickly learned the symbols necessary.

But when you moved to his front, he felt a wave of anticipation run through him. Tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he waited for you to begin. He could feel the warmth of your hands more intensely now he could see you.

You started on his chest, painting the four thick lines on his pectorals first. He watched the concentration on your face, the way your teeth gently nibbled your lower lip as your made sure every stroke was perfect.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you did not dare look up. The whole situation was intimate enough, without meeting his gaze. Feyd heard the soft breath you took to prepare yourself as you moved lower, pausing only briefly before you began to paint his stomach.

“Do you really believe these help you?” you suddenly asked, as though distracting yourself from the path your fingers took over the ridges of hid abdominals.

Feyd’s jaw clenched at the gentleness of your touch, the feeling sending goosebumps over his pale skin. He did his best to concentrate on answering your question about the symbols.

“It is the belief in them that makes them important, so yes, I do.”

You hummed in response, and Feyd’s breath caught in his throat when you began to kneel as your painted nearer his hips.

The tension in the air was thick. No sounds in the room except the scrape of your fingers against the bowl and the soft puffs of your combined breathing. Feyd tried his best to concentrate solely on the paint being smeared on his skin, but having you so close had desire settling in his belly.

Soon, you were done.

“There, I hope I have done a good enough job…” Feyd smiled at the mix of hope and pride in your eyes. But when you moved to take your hand away from his skin, he grabbed it quickly. His body acting on instinct and the words leaving him before his brain could control them.

“Would I be too forward in asking for a kiss, princess. For luck?”

You were struck silent by the question, but an aching part of you began urging you to allow him one kiss. No harm could come from it, right?

Tentatively, you stepped forward after setting bowl down on a table nearby. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek, letting them linger for mere seconds. But that was not what Feyd wanted.

You had barely stepped back before his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. He revelled in the small squeak of surprise that left you and he appreciated the fact you were not trying to push him away.

Your face was mere inches from his as his hand moved to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to his as he pressed him plump lips to yours. The feeling was electric the moment your lips met, your own hand gripping the back of his neck. Not caring for the paint that was now smeared down the skin there.

You pressed yourself harder against him, letting your body mould to his as he deepened the kiss. Tongue swiping against the flesh of your lip, asking for entry which you happily granted. The moment his tongue found yours, Feyd was like a man possessed. Gripping your face tighter as your tongue soon surrendered to his, tangling together in a clash of teeth.

The paint on his body, barely dried, smeared against your dress but you could not have cared less. Your only thoughts were Feyd. The feel of his arm on your waist and hand on your face. The taste of him, combined with the black paint on his teeth. You were entirely intoxicated by him.

You were not sure when he had backed you towards the table, but you did not stop him when he lifted you quickly on to it. There was something so delicious about the danger of the whole situation. While realistically, you barely knew him, you could feel your body surrendering to every kiss and touch. The very fibres of you desperate to feel more of him already.

Feyd groaned into your mouth when you made space for him to slip between your legs, your dress parting either side to accommodate the movement. His hands took purchase your thighs while yours found his shoulders. Your paint-stained fingers leaving fingerprints all over his alabaster skin.

The room felt like it had heated as his lips began to trail down your jaw and to your neck, following a path until he reached the swell of your breasts, just visible with the cut of your dress. His hands kneading the flesh of your thighs, the combination forcing breathy moans to slip from your lips.

Feyd revelled in every one of them. The dig of nails into his shoulder when he nipped at your collarbone, the soft moan when his hands found the apex of your thighs and squeezed.

“I will win for you, my princess…” he mumbled, his face buried in your neck as his fingers continued their path to your core.

And you were powerless to stop him, your body listening now solely to your base instincts. The first brush of his fingers over your underwear had your head falling back.

“Win for me, and I will reward you…” you sighed out, as his fingers slipped deftly beneath the fabric.

Feyd could barely concentrate on your promise, slipping his fingers further and further between your folds until he was buried to the knuckles. The smallest curl of the digits had you moaning his name.

“Reward me how?” he asked, already feeling your soft walls clenching around him as your release crept forward.

He could barely help himself, thrusting and curling his fingers over and over. Feeling the soft gush of your slick coating his fingers and palm with each movement.

You could hardly form words, Feyd’s fingers somehow speeding up again. You could only moan as you release surprised you, tugging Feyd by neck to kiss him as you spilled around his fingers.

He slowed his movements as you relaxed, not pulling them out until he could feel your muscles stop spasming. Your jaw went slack as you saw him reach for the bowl of paint, mixing your juices with the black liquid and painting over the now smudged symbols you had adorned him with. The smug grin on his face making your skin tingle.

You slowly came back to yourself, eyes meeting his as you finally answered.

“Win for me, and you can have any part of me you wish.”

Dune Taglist (requested and people I know who like Dune):

@blissfulphilospher @tumblin-theworldaway @lady-phasma @anjelicawrites @aemondsbabe @alexagirlie

(if you want to be tagged in or removed from future posts, let me know!)

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content

“the fortress of meropide takes full responsibility for the beret society incident,” wriothesley states, heaving a sigh. “it was…an unfortunate oversight on my part.”

“it’s not entirely your fault,” clorinde tells him. “don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“thanks,” he grins, slightly surprised by her attempt at comforting him. “never thought i’d see the day—”

“don’t push it.” 

“come on, just admit that we’re best friends!” 

neuvillette clears his throat, like a parent would before lecturing a child. “what steps have you taken on behalf of those affected? many families of the victims have written to my office, requesting indemnification. it’s been explained that the court of fontaine holds no jurisdiction over the fortress. the matter falls into the hands of the warden.”

“i’ve moved some funds around to properly compensate everyone who was affected.” he answers, handing over a report outlining the details. “i’ve also compensated the doctor you sent to the fortress quite generously, as she’s taken on the responsibility of overseeing their continued care.” 

neuvillette chuckles quietly as he reads the report. “is ‘compensate’ new slang for 'intercourse?'”

one beat of silence. then two. clorinde snickers behind her teacup. wriothesley briefly considers swan-diving into the primordial sea. 

“why— why would you ask that?” he sputters instead.

the chief justice simply continues on reading, oblivious to the scandalized reaction of his companions. “oh, calm yourself, your grace. i was merely jesting, no need for anyone to be embarrassed.”

“yeah, if you’re him,” clorinde scoffs, jerking her thumb in his direction. “but if you’re the doctor in this situation…” 

“okay, your best friend status has officially been revoked. and you, chief justice! since when do you jest?”

“since it’s come to my attention that you both hold great affection for one another. sigewinne corresponds quite frequently with the other melusines here at palais mermonia. we know all about you and the doctor’s whispers of desire.”

clorinde chokes on the pastry she’s eating as wriothesley rises abruptly, his face suddenly hot. he swears the tea they’d been sharing is laced with something. “okay, you have my report, this meeting is over.” 

_____

“i got bullied by the chief justice and a champion duelist today,” your boyfriend pouts as he joins you in bed.

you bite back a smile as he pushes his head against your chest, snuggling contentedly against the silk of your chemise. 

“i’m having a hard time believing monsieur neuvillette would do such a thing.”

he releases a long, dramatic sigh as your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp. “can you do me a favour and tell him, in explicit detail, just how well i’m ‘compensating’ you?”

wriothesley yelps when you pinch the shell of his ear. “oh, hush,” you laugh, kissing the top of his head. 

not one to be outdone, the duke sits up, effortlessly trapping you beneath him and nosing at the column of your neck. you shudder as his teeth graze your ear in retaliation, your hand gripping the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck. 

“wait,” you gasp as you feel his lips form the beginning of what you know will be a very visible hickey tomorrow. “do you hear that?”

your boyfriend draws back to look down at you, concerned. “hear what?”

“it sounds like…a whisper of desire.”

“hey!”

[amourrs]

18+ only, implied brat ellie? absolutely no plot just smut with a vague theme and yapping…

pondering the thought of birthday sex with ellie, specifically in the morning when she’s just itching with anticipation. the sun’s ascendant, though at present shrouded, making the whole episode feel more hush-hush. you could even consider it a smidge covert, the way the moment’s kept for your eyes (and other senses) only as her silklike lips trail brazenly up the expanse of your flesh, pearlescent in the maiden light of dawn that spills liquidly through the open curtains. she’d forgotten to close them last night, but now the mishap works in her favour, illuminating your skin as she indents her teeth into it, watches it spring back whilst leaving the ridges of her molars behind. marking you up, running her thumb over the crescents like a prayer.

she continues to traverse a path, tongue abrading the spots she hits as a sorry attempt at soothing the irritation until a particularly harsh nip tugs at a cord in your brain, pulling you from that sweet dreamscape you’d been so happily enjoying just to realise that a better alternative is being offered up to you on a silver platter. you moan, an asseveration of your returned desires as your fingers wind into her hair, a tangled mane-like lattice that silks into soft order as you run your digits through it. her name passes your lips as she grins into your clavicle, mouth wandering down further as her hand reaches into her hair and she interlinks her fingers with yours. like this, she’s all sweetness, no salt, if you’ll pardon the shoddy wordplay— an event that’s not so frequent, so you savour it the more it occurs. her tongue drags over your navel, dipping into your belly button as you shriek, nails scratching at her face as if to ward her off as the auburnette snickers at you. “m’sorry, babe. couldn’t help it— fuck, happy birthday. ‘s been so hard waiting, had to wake you up. you get it, right?”

you go to make a quick riposte on the topic but it withers in your throat like a flower shredded at the stem when her teeth snag your underwear, ivory mismatched against black lace as she drags them down off your legs in irriation. a hindrance, only serving to camouflage her real object. all thoughts of anything but ellie ellie ellie are whisked from your brain with the long stripe she licks up your cunt and you display as such when you chant her name out, a mantra so soft on her ears that she chuckles into you. the vibrations only serve to make you wetter, the freckled girl’s fingers splaying your folds to reveal your slick to her; you’d presume it was ichor and not arousal with the way she looks on in starved bliss. her tongue travels from your perineum to your entrance, fingers trailing with it, eager to explore as she slides one into you. the smothered squeak from you provides only to enkindle her depravities, second finger joining the first as she hooks them, searching for gold as her mouth lays sloppy kisses over your sensitive bud. she lays it on you like it’s religion, like you’re the priest and she’s the acolyte at the altar, treating this sordid affair like something holy as she rests her head devout and innocent on your thigh as if she’s not desecrating you, devouring you with rapture.

it takes you a minute to notice it at first in your pleasure, but there’s an odd rhythm to the motions of her tongue on your clit. almost as if mapping out a preordained plan— and that’s when it hits you. she’s spelling. squinted eyes and bursts of much spasmodic focus assist you in making out the vague idea of many of the letters; you string them together in your mind and easily piece together the gaps, pushing at her head as you choke down a laugh. “are you— are you seriously spelling happy birthday right now? thought it was more traditional to like, sing that in a song alongside the cake.” your teases get to her, face strawberrying softly at your chuckles as her freckles stand out in soft definition. “okay, well. i did actually make you a cake— don’t worry, dina helped,” an interjection much needed after the look of abject horror plastered across your face, “so. i’ll sing later. right now, kinda in the middle of something. in case you hadn’t noticed.” it’s pointed, the way her mouth nestles back in between your thighs, the aforementioned muscles squeezing tightly around her skull in a way that has her groaning as her tongue flicks out across your clit again. you’re pretty sure you can discern the shape of the A and Y at the end of ‘birthday’ as her digits curl into your walls at the perfect spot, grinding until you see stars and the coil inside your stomach snaps, legs shaking as you ride out your high against your girlfriend’s face. fuckin’ goofball.

happy birthday to one of my all time favourite mutuals, the lovely @astralnymphh — couldn’t hand deliver ellie to your door as a gift, so considered this to be a consolation 🎂♡

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: Angst, smut, 18+ blowjob, swearing, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - this is a little short but the next part is gonna be really long.

To say you were bewildered was pretty much an understatement. 

You’d just been fingered…by your boss. And not just any old guy, he was Lando Norris. World class F1 driver? And what were you supposed to do now? Flirt with him? Return the favour? God, it was so confusing. 

You ended up taking the next day off under the guise of illness (though you were pretty sure Lando knew why you had decided to take it off) in order to think. You were lying on your stomach against the plush mattress of your bed of your own apartment, when your phone rang. 

Weird, you thought you put it on silent. And then you saw it. Lando’s name flashed up onto the screen, your eyes widening with a mix of panic and shock. Do you answer it? Would he question why you were on your phone if you were ‘sick’?

You were overthinking it, surely. “Hello,” you said, your voice wavering as you answered the phone, holding it close to your ear. “Y/N,” Lando said, as you checked the time, realising it was around 3pm in Hungary. 

“What’s up?” you said, steadying your voice as you spoke through the speaker, your words slowing down to make sense. So he’d done qualifying, surely, right? “You need to come back. Not soon, now,” he said, his voice demanding. 

Jesus was it that bad?

“Um, okay, I’ll be round yours in a bit,” you mumbled, hanging up as you stood up, choosing a simple black dress as you made your way round his. Now you were confused. Lando had qualified first, with Oscar behind him, why did he sound pissed?

“God, finally,” Lando groaned as you walked into his hotel room. He was pacing the room, but he finally stopped when he saw you, his eyes set on your face in both annoyance and relief. “You called?” you said, not sure what to say, 

“No, really?” he said, voice laced with sarcasm. Ouch. This wasn’t the voice of a man who had his finger knuckle-deep in you last night. “You qualified first,” you said, almost making it sound like a suggestion. 

“Damn right I did,” Lando said, his voice husky and annoyed as he slumped into a chair, “and I’m gonna fuck it up, as always,”. No. Way. Lando had called you here for emotional support? This was crazy. 

“Don’t say that,” you frowned, piping up from where you were standing in the doorway, clutching your little handbag. “Sit down,” Lando said, voice monotonous. You realised he hadn’t actually looked you in the eye since you arrived - or rather, since last night, but you made nothing of it. 

“I always mess it up, Y/N, I’m starting to think Miami was just pure luck,” he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Miami was a show of talent, not luck,” you said, raising a brow at his words. Lando also seemed shocked, not expecting such a compliment from you, after he’d been horrid. 

Wow, he needed to give you a raise or something. Or maybe another little reward, besides, your sounded good moaning his name when he had his- 

“You deserved the win,” Lando’s thoughts were cut off by your firm statement, the belief in your voice making him recoil internally. He’d been way too harsh on you in the past. “Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, still not looking you in the eye.

“Look, about last night…” Lando started, realising he needed to break the tension in the room. “It’s fine,” you said coolly. Shit. Did you say it too fast? Too eagerly? You could see the cogs moving in Lando’s brain as he tried to figure out your answer, deciphering how you’d said it. 

Did you not want what he had done? Did you not enjoy it? Had he hurt you?

Hundreds of questions flooded his mind as he fiddled with the ring adorning his finger. “Right,” he said slowly, “didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything,” Lando added. Like he hadn’t already. “It felt good, but it’s…it’s fine,” you added, not all too sure what ‘fine’ meant. Pleasurable? Maybe. 

“I…good, okay,” Lando said with a slow nod, looking into your eyes for the first time in a while. It was almost like you let go of a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “I guess I owe you one…for fixing that date, I guess,” you weren’t quite sure where this newfound confidence came from. 

“Not really,” Lando said, “it doesn’t matter,”. A relationship with your boss. Well, the media would make you out to be a slut. You’d always been seen as less than Lando for being his assistant. You’d seem like you just wanted some dick to ride. Now it was Lando’s turn to watch the cogs in your head turn. 

“The media doesn’t need to know,” Lando said, “it’s not like I’m just gonna ring up some media company and tell them I fingered my assistant,”. The way he said it sent a tingle up your spine. How relaxed he was when he said it. Fingered my assistant. My. You. 

You were his assistant. “Good,” was all you said. There was a pause between the two of you, the tension so intense you could cut it with a knife. Fucking hell. The things you’d do to just get on your knees and take whatever he wanted to gave you. “For fucks’ sake,” Lando muttered under his breath, “stop it,”.

“What?” you said, cocking your head as you looked up to him. Oh, but he wasn’t talking to you, was he? More himself. And the weeks of suppressed feelings he had pushed down deep into the forbidden places of his mind, but now they were too deep. Reaching darker places, and settling in more than he felt comfortable with. 

Why were you so damn hot? And gorgeous, and pretty and just…everything?

He hadn’t even realised you’d moved to stand in front of him til you pulled his joggers down, his attention snapping to you. “Jesus, Y/N, what are you doing?” he said, watching your hand come to the base of his cock, your finger gliding across the vein on the underside as he groaned. 

“Returning the favour,” you said simply. “You really don’t, fuck, you really don’t need to,” Lando groaned as you slid your lips over his length, your tongue flicking to his sensitive head. Fuck he was so gorgeous. It was bigger than you’d imagined (yes, you’d imagined it), stretching right to the back of your throat and more as he bunched a hand in your hair. 

“Fucking hell, I could get used to this,” Lando said, the words coming out almost involuntarily. You could get used to it too, though. “Oh fuck, Y/N, fuck,” Lando said, bucking his hips the smallest amount as you felt the pressure build up between his legs. 

“Oh Y/N, fuck you’re so good,” Lando moaned as his hips jutted, pulling your lips from him as his cum spilled onto your cheek in thick ropes. “God, yes,” he gasped, head thrown back, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. 

This was going to be very interesting.

[bodhrancomedy]

As a lifelong rightie, I’m always fascinated by where I tend to favour my left hand.

I write with my right, but I do delicate painting with my left. I play badminton with my right, but I can play squash (primarily backhand because that’s far easier) with both. I am left handed with long sword and frisbees, but right with knives. I throw with my right and catch with my left. I play guitar with my left, recorder with my right, and - because my older sister taught me - tie knots and my laces left handed style.

It’s just so interesting.