#NEVER had sex with a man??? ever??? you’re so wrong it makes you look stupid

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

fic writers who say benny’s new to gay topping…. and gay bottoming… and pegging… did my poll mean nothing to you

[nanaslutt]

okey so brainrot: this is RLLY WEIRD IM SORRY but the reader is like innocent/shy and doesn't really have any experiences regarding sex so like one day she asks satoru to "show her" how to touch herself but he demonstrates it on a fruit (like on an orange? peach? or smth like that) then things get heated😉. I DONT KNOW IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL

Gojo teaching you to touch yourself on an orange.. and things escalate..

contains: fem reader, teasing, sexual tension, fingering, guided masturbation, experienced gojo, readers first orgasm, he talks you through it, 99% of this is dirty talk and nasty dialogue

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

*Ding* the sound of a video recording starting chimed from Gojo’ phone, “Okay okay, say that again for me?~” The white haired man cooed cockily.

“Gojo you asshole! Ugh, forget it, I was stupid to ask you.” You threw your arms up in defeat, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk out of his room, embarrassed.

“Noooonono,” he cried, the chime sounded again, ending the video, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t tease you like that~” The man was suddenly behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and rocking you side to side, “Forgive me, I was wrong okayy~” he tried to reason, he really didn’t want to blow this.

After all, his cute little friend had just burst into his room and confessed that she had never touched herself before and was wanting some guidance; knowing gojo had some experience with women under his belt, you came to him for help.

“To make it up to you, I won’t even make you pay for this session how bout that?” he grinned behind you annoyingly, poking his head out to the side of you so you could see his expression through your peripheral vision.

“What are you some sex therapist?” you laughed, making him sigh in relief. “I’ll be anything you need me to be~” he wiggled his eyebrows, making you shrug his heavy body off of you in faux disgust.

“So, you a visual learner? or more hands on?” He asked when you turned your body to face him once more, letting him drag you so you were sitting on the end of his bed.

“I’m not uh.. really sure when it comes to this.” you confessed. “You’re not sure of much huh?” he teased, making you punch his shoulder lightly, “haha, you’ll know soon if you’re a hands on learner or not.” he said ambiguously.

But you trusted gojo with this for some reason..

..which might’ve been a mistake.

You did not anticipate how riled up this situation would get you. You’ve always found gojo attractive; who didn’t; but you came to him because nothing had ever happened between the two of you before, you were friends, you were sure the atmosphere wouldn’t feel so embarrassing but—

“This is your clit, you wanna make little circles on it like this with one or two fingers,” The white haired man spoke, currently holding half an orange in one hand, and rubbing tight circles onto the suggestive looking slit of the fruit with the other.

Gojo was sat in front of you on his chair while you sat on the bed, his legs spread as he held the fruit out in front of him and instructed you on it.

“Don’t wanna go too fast either, wanna work yourself up a bit.” He spoke, looking up at you every so often to make sure you were paying attention; this was important after all.

“If you start getting too needy, rub your fingers down here-“ he dragged his long digits down to the middle of the fruit, presumably where the opening to your pussy would be.

He rubbed his fingers on the outside of the slit, in a ‘come hither’ motion; not inserting his fingers; just caressing them on the outside, occasionally rubbing them back and forth over the opening.

“You paying attention?” he checked, snapping you out of your stupor as your eyes flitted up to his, you were hoping the blush on your face wasn’t as evident as it felt. You just gave a curt nod at his question, not trusting your voice to sound steady right now.

The longer and longer this went on, the needier and needier you we’re feeling between your own legs, a heat was growing between them and you were praying gojo hadn’t noticed that your legs were crossed not in comfort but because you had been steadily squeezing them together and rubbing your pussy against the rough denim stitch your jeans made for awhile now.

“Good, it gets a little more interesting now so make sure you’re paying attention.” he says, waiting for you nod again before he continued.

“This is your vaginal opening, this is where you would put your little fingers inside yourself when you masturbate.” he said, “or get fucked heh,” he adds vulgarly, making himself smile.

“Start with one finger, especially since you’ve never done anything here before right?” He asks, still nonchalantly rubbing his fingers against the slit while he waits for you to once again acknowledge his words; his piercing blue eyes staring bullets through you as he does so.

“Y-yeah.” You verbally answered, silently begging for him to continue. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel him touching you like that instead of the stupid fruit, who you were unnecessarily jealous of at the moment.

“It’s gonna be tight, and it might not feel like much at first-“ You held your breath as he spoke, waiting for his next moves. Gojo looked down at the fruit, teasing a circle around the slit one last time before he pressed the tip of his finger into the center deeper and deeper, making juices spill out around it. “But a couple inches inside, there’s gonna be a little rough patch.” he tells you.

“A rough patch?” you repeat, confused. “Your g-spot.” he answered, “It’s gonna make you feel soo good.” he smirks, looking up at you from his ministrations on the fruit. “All you gotta do is ruuub~ like this-“ he demonstrates, massaging upwards inside the slit of the fruit, making vulgar squelching noises emanate around the room.

“It’ll even sound similar if you’re doing it right,” he adds, giggling to himself. “Can you do both?” you ask, hoping the breathlessness of your words wasn’t able to be picked up by Gojo’s ears.

He tilts his head to the side for a second, questioning what you mean before his eyes light up when he fully registers what you were asking, “Ohhh~ You want me to show you how to touch your clit and finger yourself at the same time?” he asked, a slightly mocking lilt to his voice.

“Oh I just- I wanted to know if it was possible..” you shyly clarified, looking away for a second, suddenly way too aware of his eyes on you.

“Aww~ of course it’s possible!” he beamed. You watched his thumb come up and pet the top of the slit of the orange, where your clit would be, and rubbed back and forth when his fingers thrusted out of the slit. “You can use two hands if this is too uncomfortable,” He adds.

“Most women cant cum unless you give ur little clit some attention, even with how good touching yourself inside can feel.” Gojo spoke.

“Have you ever-“ you gulped, “made someone cum from just the inside?” you asked, taking the brief pause he took to answer to add, “I-I just wanna know if it’s p-possible is all!”

“Oh yeah~” he answers in a heartbeat after your last sentence, “Even made a couple squirt from just the inside too.” he brags.

“Shit,” you accidentally mumble, not meaning to actually say that our loud, “What was that?” he asks, playing dumb when he mentally recorded the word that fell from your lips, making his ego swell.

“Oh n-nothing.” you brushed it off, waving your hand in front of yourself, urging him to continue his teachings. “Make sure when your fingers are inside that pump them in-“ he slowly drags his fingers out of the fruit, juices coating them, making you squeeze your legs together at the lewd image, “and out, that you also curl them inside at the same time.” he instructs.

“That’s how you’re gonna make your g-spot happy and get the most of your pleasure.” Gojo finishes.

Your mouth was completely dry at this point, leg bouncing in impatience, still subtly squeezing your thighs together for even the smallest bit of relief while you watched the juices drip down his lengthy fingers.

“Well that’s about it for the basics, I think you can go pretty far with what i’ve taught you, if you can remember it all.” He giggles, raising from the chair and moving to set the fruit on the table.

“Wait!” you say a little too loudly, hopping he didn’t sense the need in your voice, “Um.. I think I might be a hands on learner..” You confess, “I’m still a little confused..”

Gojo stops in his tracks, retracting his hand that’s holding the fruit back towards his body as a sinister smirk grows on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, cheering internally when you not coyly.

“Alright then, class is back in session!!” he throws his hands up, walking over to you.

When you think he’s going to sit back down in the chair he actually walks past it, and past you. You turn your head to see where he was going but your muscles freeze and tense up when you feel the bed dip behind you, followed by his strong chest pressing snugly against your back.

“This okay?” he asks before he continues, to which you nod. “Need to hear you say it, sweets.” You blush at the nickname, glad he can’t see your face like this, “Yes, this is okay.” you confirm softly.

“Alright, here” he holds the fruit out to you, and you take it in both your smaller hands. “I’m gonna walk you through it, that sound okay?” he checks, smiling to himself when you let out a meek ‘mhm.’

He pulls the both of you further back on the bed, so he’s resting comfortably upright against the bed frame, and you following suit against his chest. “Comfortable?” the while haired man whispers far too close to your ear.

“Y-yes,” you confirm once more, the hitch of your breath made him smile to himself.

“Okayy~ Ideally you would want to work yourself up by playing with your chest first,, slowly drag your fingers down your body, touch yourself over your pants and all that— but we only have an orange so this will have to do!” he says, not realizing (?) how hot his words were making you.

“Start by slowly touching your clit.” He spoke, as if you were really touching yourself right now. Your shaky fingers came down to find the top of the slit, rubbing one finger against where you guessed your clit would be, as he watched intently over your shoulder.

“Yeah, right there good job.” he praised, making you wish you were back to sitting on the bed with your legs crossed so you could squeeze them together. It would be a little too risky to try anything when he was so close to you, you bet he could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest from how the two of you were squished together right now.

“A little faster now.” he instructed, licking his lips behind you as he felt your breath pick up when you drew faster circles against the fruit, wet ‘schlick’ noises echoing in your ears.

“Like this?” you asked, switching up the direction of the circles every so often, “Oh yeah, you’re a pro,” he giggled into your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine, “You sure you’ve never touched yourself before?”

“Well I have but it.. it didn’t feel like much.” you confessed, blushing at your own revealing words. “I see..” he ponders, cerulean eyes focused on your smaller fingers playing with the fruit.

“I have an idea, something that might help you understand a little better, if your open to it,” he pauses you, his big hand coming to stop your movements against the orange.

“Um, what is it?” you ask hesitantly. The white haired man leaned a little too close for comfort, making you whine out loud when he whispered, “You trust me?” into the shell of your ear.

Truthfully, Gojo had been hard from the moment you asked him to teach you how to touch yourself. Stealing glances at your thighs pressing together not so subtly when he was talking you through step by step how to pleasure yourself, watching you suck your lip into your mouth when his words became a little too dirty, how your breath picked up when he inserted his fingers into the slit of the fruit.

He was losing his mind, his patience was wearing increasingly thinner and thinner at your reactions, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and your obliviousness was making his cock drip pre steadily into his boxers.

Thank god for his baggy sweater or you might’ve (100% would’ve) noticed the huge hard on he was sporting in his sweats. He was surprised you didn’t say anything when he was pressed against your back, assuming you were too enthralled and overwhelmed with what was going on to notice.

“I trust you.” you responded honestly, making his cock twitch against the fabric that confined it.

“I’m gonna touch this fruit just how I just showed you, and you’re going to mimic me, on yourself.” He whispered, his hot breath against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

“R-right here? now?” you asked clarifying his words, slight panic and embarrassment seeping into your tone. “I saw you rubbing your thighs together, you’re aching for it, right? What better time to practice getting off when you’re actually all worked up?” He made a good point, you’ve been wanting to touch yourself for half an hour now, you were sure you had completely soaked through your panties by this point.

You made a sound of embarrassment, eyes darting around the room at him having exposed you, “Awww heh, don’t be embarrassed, I’m in the same boat.” he confessed, trying to comfort you, “Been so hard since you asked me for help.”

His words did little to comfort you, making you even more flustered as you covered your eyes with the hand you weren’t holding the orange in, “Okay- just.. just do something, please.” you begged, not being able to take the throbbing between your own legs anymore.

“Okay okay, all you gotta do is follow my lead, kay?” he clarifies, grabbing your wrist and pulling off of your face so he could see your expression from the side. When he heard you let out a meek ‘okay’ he reached for the orange and set it down on the bed for a moment.

“Go ahead and take off your pants for me,, leave your panties on.” Came Gojo’s first instructions. You followed, leaning forward and away from his chest, your fingers worked quickly at undoing your button and zipper, sliding your fingers underneath the waistband as you pulled the garment off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to Gojos eyes.

When you leaned back against him he dragged the tips of his fingers along your thighs, his assumption of your soft skin becoming true as he dragged his digits all the way up to your hips, gripping your waist for a moment before he complimented, “So fucking soft.”

“Spread your legs pretty,” His soothing voice told you, staring intently between your legs, wishing he had a better view, but after this little scene he had high hopes he would have no problem getting a closer look at you.

You did as you were told, you parted your knees, feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

He reached for the fruit again, holding it with both hands in front of you, as he started tapping with one long finger on the ‘clit’ of the orange. When you didn’t move your own finger to repeat him he pats your pelvis lightly with his hand, “I know i’m addicting to watch, but you gotta touch yourself too.” He laughs, making you snap out of your stupor as you forgot you were supposed to be mimicking him.

“S-sorry, do it again.” you request, really focusing on his fingers against the fruit this time while you started sliding your own fingers inside your panties.

“Uh-uh” he warned, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks, “Over your panties, I’ll tell you when to touch yourself directly, I’ll take care of everything.” He explains, leaving a small peck against the side of your head.

“Alright, just pay attention that’s all you gotta do.” Gojo starts up again, tapping his fingers on the fruit and this time you follow him, tapping your finger over your wet panties, right against your clit.

The little stimulation alone was so intense, after being worked up for so long this relief was much needed. “Feels good to touch yourself after being so horny huh?” He spoke, like he was reading your mind.

‘Mhm’ you respond, letting your body relax against him, your head coming back to lay against his chest as you let yourself feel what he was allowing you to.

“I bet it does..” Gojo smirks, looking at your lithe shaky fingers tapping softly against your clothed mound. After a couple of seconds he decided to press against the fruit, starting up the small circles, “lightly.” He reminded.

You followed suit, the circles felt worlds better than the tapping, the consistent pressure and pattern was making you dizzy. The first actual whimper of the night left your lips and it made Gojo’s cock twitch in his pants.

He cooed at you when you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth dropping open in a small o shape while you continued your ministrations, “Cant follow directions with your eyes shut can you? Or you got some kinda super power I’m unaware of~?” he joked, making you crack your eyes open and look at his fingers again.

You noticed he had picked up his pace, you were unsure of when he did but you were happy you noticed now. You were appreciative at getting to touch yourself but were growing needy with the slow pace of his fingers. “F-fuck.” You gasped out, your hips bucking into your finger as you quickened the movement.

“Talk to me, how’s it feel.” Gojo was growing impatient himself, he loved teasing you and he knew he should take this slow especially since it was your fist time touching yourself properly— but the thought of pressing your back down into a mean arch while he just pulled your panties aside and fucked his cock into you at the hilt was constantly in the back of his mind.

He loved teasing his sex partners, but he’s never done anything like this before. Taking it this slow and instructing someone like this was new to him. It was so intimate, and so soft, and his dick really fucking liked it.

“F-feels so good, I- I wanna take my panties off.” you confessed, your ass bumping against his hard on every time your hips humped against your finger. “Yeah? Wanna touch your wet pussy directly?” He spoke, biting his lip as he held back a groan.

“Yes-yes- please..” You begged, the way he was talking was making your need to have something inside you— to feel more—so much worse.

“Soon, I promise.” He said, rubbing his long fingers against the slid of the fruit, making quiet squelching noises as he ran his finger up and down the length of it. He smiled to himself when you listened quicker this time, you were catching on.

You rubbed two fingers over the length of your pussy, moaning when he stopped his movements and pressed on and off against the hole of the fruit, where the opening of your pussy would be.

You repeated the action, feeling the fabric of your wet panties get pushed against the entrance of your little hole, “I cant tell if those sounds are you, or the fruit.” Gojo laughed breathlessly, becoming dizzy at the squelching that became louder and louder in his ears.

“Gojo..” you wined needily into the air. “Okay, okay,” His resolve cracked much faster than it normally would’ve. He knew he was the one in control right now but it felt like you had him on a leash, controlling his every move. Just a couple of wines from you was enough to make him fold, giving in to what you wanted.

He grinned watching you hastily remove your panties and spreading your legs once more, being so obedient by not immediately touching yourself and instead digging your nails into your thighs and waiting for his fingers to move against the orange.

He wanted to see how long you could hold out, but his dick and head alike were yelling at him to move his own fingers so he could watch you touch yourself, so that’s exactly what he did. Using two long fingers he rubbed hard circles again the fruit, his giggles shaking your body when you jumped into action with no hesitation, rubbing and pinching your clit between your fingers as you slid them back and forth, spelling letters and drawing shapes on it— whatever gojo did, you did.

“Fuck Gojo, this feels so good-“ you moaned, fighting the urge to let your head fall back as you felt an unfamiliar coil tighten itself in your tummy.

“I know baby I know.” His voice spoke with need, taking all four of his fingers and smacking them against the entire fruit, just so you would repeat him so he could hear how wet you were. “Oh shiit, you’re fucking drenched.” He groaned, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he started rubbing little circles again.

“This turning you on? huh?” He spoke, “You like when I show you how to treat your little pussy?” His words made you moan, going off of his instruction and quickening the pace of your fingers against yourself, “I know you wanna cum but you gotta slow down, I didn’t speed up my fingers so you don’t get to either~” Gojo reminded.

Being the obedient girl you were, you slowed your fingers down, “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologized profusely, “It’s alright,” He smiled, “It just feels so good huh?” Again, it was like he was reading your mind.

“So good, s-so so good.” you whine. “Let’s make you feel ever better, huh?” Gojo spoke against your ear, his breathy laugh tickling your skin. He dragged his fingers down to the slit of the fruit, just teasing the entrance, watching your fingers do the same.

“I cant go as deep on my model here, but when I put them inside, I want you to go deep okay?” He said. “Okay, okay.” You rush, anxious but excited to have something inside of you.

“Good girl, such a good listener.” He praised, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Okay, here we go~” Gojo slowly pushed a single finger into the fruit, his jaw dropping with a smile when he watched your smaller finger insert itself into your walls.

“Yeahhh, how does that feel?” He asks, his cock dripping out more pre into his boxers, throbbing and twitching against its confines. “Fuck.. ‘s tight.” you whine, making him groan into the air.

“Yeah? Can you feel yourself twitching?” Gojo is trying to pull as many details out of you as he can, his cock was aching for it. “Y-yes, so much- ngh-“ you choke on a moan when you start to slide your finger it in and out, following Gojo’s lead.

“Remember to curl your finger twords the top of your tummy when you put it inside,” He instructs, watching your body jolt when you follow his instruction. “Oh fu-“ you cut yourself off with a breathless moan when you feel it— your gspot.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it almost felt more intense than touching your clit, but drastically different, you didn’t know what part was your favorite— you were becoming enthralled with your own body.

“Fuck it- it feels so good Gojo-“ you whine, turning your head against his chest so you’re making eye contact with him. “I know baby I knoww~” He cooes down at you, shaking his head.

“Put another finger when you can take it, it’ll feel so much better.” he reveals, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth while he waited with bated breath as you pulled out your finger, covered in your juices— which made him grown— before you reinserted it, this time with your ring finger joining in tandem.

“Ohmygod-“ you cry, “It’s s-so much tighter gojo-“ you looked back down at his fingers, mimicking his increasingly rough pace as he looses his mind a bit at your use of his last name.

“Satoru baby, call me satoru.” He desperately needed to hear you say his name properly, every cell in his body was aching for it. “Sa-toru! Toru fuck!” you whine. His eyes roll back, his head falling suit and bumping against the headboard at his name leaving your lips.

“Yeah, keep saying my name sweet thing,” he groaned, not able to stop himself from humping against your lower back any longer, the air around you becoming increasingly thicker at how aroused the two of you were becoming.

Suddenly something snapped inside Gojo and he discarded the orange on the floor, wrapping one strong arm around your torso while he brought his juice soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them for you to open up for him.

“Yesss, good fucking girl, don’t stop your fingers- fuckkk-“ The white haired man groaned when your tongue eagerly licked around his fingers, he groaned at the warmth of your mouth, pushing his fingers as far as you would let him into your mouth, coughing a bit around them when they tickled the back of your throat.

“Play with your clit too sweetie, wanna see you cum all over your fingers.” He directed, keeping his fingers snug in your mouth as you moaned and whined around them, his other hand gripping the side of your waist strong enough to leave bruises as your other hand joined the mix on your pussy, rubbing quick circles with perfect pressure right against your clit.

“Fuck, you feel it? You gonna cum?” He groaned when your body jerked more frequently, breath coming in shorter pants as well, a sign of your impending orgasm.

You nodded against him, moaning around his fingers as you quickened your thrusts, the squelching emanating louder in the room as your juices started pooling around your fingers.

“Yesyesyes, take it, keep rubbing your clit just like that, fuck-“ Gojo felt like he was about to cum himself, lightheaded and entranced at the scene in front of him— watching you please yourself so eagerly. He couldn’t believe he was about to witness your first ever orgasm, something he only ever dreamed about.

You tried to speak his name around his fingers, warning him you were about to cum but it came out muffled. He removed his fingers from your mouth, grabbing your jaw with the same hand, and smearing your spit messily against your skin— he directed your head to look between your legs.

“Watch yourself cum baby, want you to take it all in, remember how fucking good this feels.” He instructed, as you whined and moaned his name freely into the room.

“Toru- I- I think i’m cumming!! fuck-“ you cried, squeezing your eyes shut as the dam broke.

“Oh yesyesyes- there you fucking go~ good fucking girl~” He talked you through it as you came all over your fingers— cum gushing out around them as your cunt pulsed around your digits, body jerking in on itself after every wave of your high, your legs and hands shaking at the intensity.

You panted as you came down from your first ever orgasm, barely registering that Gojo was praising you as your mind felt fuzzy, you were feeling complete bliss, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to finally do this— you were addicted.

“Satoru- ngh-“ you whined in sensitivity as you slowly pulled out your fingers, holding your soaked digits up into the air and blushing at how they shined in the light with how wet they were.

Gojo reached for your wrist, shamelessly bringing your hand to his mouth as he sucked your fingers into his mouth, moaning and eyes rolling back at the taste. Your face blushed increasingly darker at his antics, clenching your thighs at how his soft tongue felt cleaning off your fingers.

After he popped them out of his mouth a dopey grin made itself home on his face, “So fucking sweet too.” he praised, licking his lips to clean up any drop of your juices he might’ve missed.

Gojo squeezed his arm around you tighter, gripping your face once more as he made you turn your head more directly towards him before he spoke again, “Wanna learn how to touch a dick next?”

pt. 2 here

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[hybridirl]

i’ve never done this before…

18 + only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader

a/n: so basically i was on janitor ai because i’m genuinely an addicted freak and this was inspired by a chat i had :3 im also replaying tlou2 bc i cant stop i need it i need it i need it. also i think a LOT more things make sense now, so i think you should replay after u play it.

brief summary: ellie is ur big sister’s best friend! but, unfortunately you’re dubbed an “annoying little sister,” your sister’s not home, ellie’s high when she comes over, and ur a loser nerd who can’t deal with confrontation :(. (au if it wasn’t obvious!)

tw / DUBCON?, ellie is very mean, degrading, praise, pet names, reader is a virgin, small age gap if you really squint, porn without a plot, rushed sex, scissoring (tribbling?), use of y/n i think…

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚

with a grunt, you pulled your pajama pants up the rest of the way. you were headed to the door after hearing seven hard knocks on the door.

“hello—“ you began, cutting yourself off when you see ellie, your sister’s best friend. “ellie?” you glanced behind her, then behind yourself. “she’s not home right now.”

“yeah, yeah,” she slurred, and your lips went into a thin line from her state, so obviously intoxicated. “she told me come ‘n wait. she’s gettin’ her shit rocked, ‘r whatever. she dropped me off ‘ya know? said you wouldn’t mind. you don’ mind, do you?”

being such a caring person had its ups and downs. you weren’t fond of ellie, and she wasn’t fond of you. she had been your biggest bully throughout the entirety of middle and high school. but, you couldn’t deny her entry. she could get hurt or worse, and you didn’t want that. or to be responsible of it.

you adjusted your glasses, eyeing her with a thoughtful look. her eyes were halflidded, red, and she smelled disgusting. she eyed you right back, her stare almost intimidating.

“no, ellie. i don’t mind,” you said begrudgingly, stepping aside to allow her in. you watched her make her way around the all-too-familiar home while you shut the door. you mentally prepared yourself for tending to her needs; you knew she’d tell if you hadn’t. you also prepared for the anger she would inevitably feel. she was an angry person when intoxicated. you leaned against the door and watched her opened the fridge.

“what do you got?” ellie asked, shutting the refrigerator and looking at you. “what’re you gonna make?”

“i don’t know,” you responded and took a glance at the stove. you hadn’t noticed what she took from the fridge, only gasping when you heard the familiar sound of a beer opening. “hey, hey, hey! that’s my dad’s!” you watched ellie shrug and give you a “so what?” look. “stop it, that’s not good for you!” you rushed over, reaching for the beer, but her rough hand kept you in place as she chugged it down. “ellie, stop! you’re already high, that’s gonna make it worse; ellie, stop!”

“and what the fuck do you know?” she asked as she slammed the beer bottle of the counter, “you stupid fuckin’ loser, what the fuck is wrong with you? i’ll do what-the-fuck-ever i want. you’re such a fucking lame-ass, you won’t even take a lil sip o’ this thing,” she stuck the beer can up to your mouth, which you turned away from, “that’s what i thought, you stupid bitch. you’re probably a virgin, too, huh? you don’t even try- nobody even tries for you. no man, no woman, no whatever. never been in a relationship, never been in fuckin’ nothing. you are such a fucking loser.”

your jaw was slack, almost looking like a fish out of water as it tried to shut and open.

“you’re too high for this,” you said slowly, still shocked at her words. you took a step back, your back pressing against the island counter.

“you don’t know the first thing about ‘too high,’ jackass. bet you never had a dick in you before. too busy studyin’ your stupid fucking books to be the good girl you are. can’t even do this because you’re always bein’ a teacher’s pet, always bein’ a goody-two-shoes, know it all, fucking bitch. probably got a few toys like the desperate freak you are. maybe a dildo? nah, you want that pussy t’stay tight, huh?” you thought it couldn’t get worse than the insults before, but this was insane. your eyes were wide, shock filling your features.

“ellie!” you gasped in horror and embarrassment, “i— i’m calling my sister!”

“you’re a fucking snitch!” she giggled, pointing at you. “she doesn’t care what the fuck i’m saying to you. she’s too busy slutting herself out to give a fuck about your pathetic ass, baby.”

“go away, ellie,” you whimpered out, eyes at the ground. you attempted to push past her, but her hands gripped your wrists. “please.”

“you’re not getting rid of me,” she growled, her beer-breath filling your nostrils, “you’re a goddamn joke. i’m not going anywhere ‘til i’m good ‘n ready. you just know i’m right.” she leaned in, her lips brushing your cheek as she whispered deep into your ear, “you just want my hands all over you, don’t you, y/n? i’ve seen how you watched me. you want a real woman’s hands on ‘ya. all of over your pretty body, hm?”

“no,” you whispered right back, your brows furrowed. this was your sister’s best friend. this was just… wrong; you couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t right. and she was high! she didn’t know what she was doing, what she was saying, but her touch felt so…

“don’t you lie to me,” she huffed her breath hot in your ear, “you wanna get touched bad. you know you do. you want my hands slidin’ down your pretty panties and touchin’ that clit. make you cum all on my hand. you want that, don’t you?”

“ellie,” you almost moaned out at her dirty talk, your brows knitted together in conflict. your hand went to cover your mouth as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pjs and simultaneously your underwear.

“let it out, baby,” she told as your hand muffled a broken moan, “you’re already so, so wet for me. this pussy’s just beggin’ for my touch, huh?” her finger-pad ran across your clit and your knees buckled. she giggled in response, a lazy grin plastered on her face. “mm, ya feel that? this’s what y’ve been missin’ out on with all that nerdy bullshit you do.” her fingers slipped easily inside you, making your eyes roll with pleasure; another moan escaped your throat. “y’so tight. just like i thought.” she pulled her fingers out, quickly giving them a lick before tugging your bottoms down. “oh, baby…” she moaned at the sight, licking her lips as she took you in. “look at that pretty pussy. mhm, ‘n all f’r me, huh?” she knelt down, getting face to face with your cunt. “answer me.” she kissed at your inner thighs. all you could do was watch, trembling under her dominating touch.

you yelped, jumping in surprise as she bit your thigh harshly.

“i said answer.”

“y-yes! all for you, ‘s all for you,” you whimpered, whining as her mouth finally met with your drooling pussy. your resolve had slipped away, only thinking about that needy, touch-starved vulva of yours. “oh, ellie…” she grinned as she watching you come undone, your fingers slipping into her hair and tugging at it. she lapped and lapped at your clit, tongue running circles around the sensitive bud. she gave it a last kiss before she pulled away, smirking at your distress.

“preview, baby. all that was. go to your room, m’followin’ you.”

you were anxious to walk, taking just a moment before giddily rushing to your room. the masculine woman easily followed your direction, shutting the door hard behind her as she pulled you down to the bed with her. her hands were immediately on you as you lay atop her, caressing and running down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing.

“you’re so ready for me baby, aren’t you?” she asked with a small smirk playing at her lips. “you wanna grind that pretty pussy on mine, don’t you?”

“i-i’ve never done this before, i-i don’t know what to do,” you admitted, although she already knew your circumstance.

“makin’ me do all the work, you pretty lil pillow princess?” she teased, that same lazy grin on her face. she easily flipped you over, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “god, how are you so perfect…” she moaned softly to herself, her hands running down your sides, down your legs, and down your calves. she reached her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging them down quickly. you gulped as you eyed her pubic mound, her dark hair trimmed finely.. she lifted your hips up, appreciating your vulva once more. she used her thumb to lift up your clitoral hood, bending down to meet the pearl with her tongue. “mm, god, i can’t get enough of you. pull your shirt up, wanna see those tits ‘ve been wantin’ to see.” you did as you were told, quickly pulling your nightshirt up and showing her your breasts. a groan left her throat as her hands reached out to touch them, tweaking and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

“please,” you whined, your head tilted back. “please, ellie…”

“oh, i know you’re so needy, huh? never done this before? never been touched so good by another girl b’fore, huh?” ellie teased once more, and all you could do was nod. it was all true. “say it, baby. tell me how much of a loser you are.”

with an embarrassed grimace, you obliged, “i-i’m a big loser. ‘ve never, ever gotten laid ‘n i wanna… oh!” you gasped as you felt the sensation of her pussy meet yours. “ellie…” her hips ground against yours, your clits bumping and running across each other.

“you like this? my pussy all over yours?” she growled, rolling her hips to meet your cunt. “fuck, you’re so wet.” you moaned out, your hands trying to find a place to stay as they flailed. they gripped the sheets and you watched above as her pussy slid across yours. you both glistened with a thin layer of sweat, your bodies becoming hot with arousal. “you feel so fucking good.”

“yes,” you cried, “more.” and she gave you more, her hips rolling with fervor while you writhed in pleasure. “p-please— ellie!”

“yeah, scream my name you little slut,” she purred, her auburn hair sticking to her sweaty face. “let ‘em know— let the neighbors know you’re finally getting laid.”

you continued to moan her name, completely drunk on this feeling. she let out small little ��just like that’s’ as your voice echoed off the walls of your room.

it was intense, your bodies moving together and so perfectly in sync. sweat dripped from her forehead onto your belly, slightly coating your skin. her hands gripped your chest as she ground against you, the position slightly awkward, but pleasing nonetheless as your heats mushed together in symphony. sloppy squelches filled your ears, almost drowned out by your moans and cries as she took you.

“i’m gonna,” you began, tears welling up in your pretty eyes, “i’m gonna cum, ellie!”

“yeah? right on my pussy? cum right on my pussy, baby,” she moaned, her hands reaching her cup her own breast. you moaned, following her command like a dog as your canal contracting around nothing, costing her slick folds in all your essence. your body convulsed as you came, and the sight forced a moan out of her throat. “yeah, that’s it, my good girl, fu—ck… i’m cumming!” with her orgasm following in suit, she gripped your leg hard, riding out her orgasm as you tried to come down from your own. you whined from the overstimulation, feeling her arousal spread out on your flesh. she shushed you, her index finger on your lips as she calmed her breathing. she dropped your leg, plopping beside you with a grunt.

“t-that was good,” you said to her, your eyes lingering on her glistening face.

“mhm, now you get to brag to a—ll your nerdy, little virgin friends that you,” she jabbed a finger, “got laid.”

“you’re mean,” you huffed, a little pout on your face. she smirked, bringing a hand to the back of your neck and bringing you in to kiss.

“yeah?” she chuckled, “but you like it.”

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[yunietunie]

Soft Spot.

[nsfw]

Ghost was feared throughout the unit, however he had caught the eye of someone. Constant thoughts ran through as he offered to buy drinks, only to be met with a blunt rejection. It wouldn't go further... would it?

fem!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, eating out, rough, cum shots, unprotected!sex, strangers to lovers?

Ghost was a fearful soldier in your unit, always parading around as some brooding villain. No one would ever cross the thought of pissing him off. You were a new recruit, barely any training done. After work or during his free time, he’d scurry off to some hiding spot, leaving you bewildered on what he would be doing.

Occasionally you two would cross paths but his responses were always, “Yeah” or “no” or “Guess so”. He never gave you a full sentence, making your interactions dry and distasteful. Or if he did, it was to “correct” your mistakes in training in a harsh way. You kind of gave up on talking to him, just giving him small smiles as a way to show you were friendly.

It was sort of fair, only because of the rank difference. You were given no leisure in training or work in general.

You felt drawn to him, subconsciously staring at him when he was in meetings or passing by near him in hallways. In a recent meeting however, you saw his eyes bore into yours for a good while, making you curious as to why he suddenly took notice of you. Was he annoyed? Has he finally had enough of your ogling? All these questions would shimmer down your hope.

That was until he was next to you in the shooting range, seemingly releasing stress while practicing his aim. You took notice of how easy it was for him, then looked back at your barely damaged paper target. You sigh slightly at the sight, a punch of disappointment in your chest just before you start taking your pistol back to the weapon’s case.

“You’re tense. You need to be relaxed.” A gravelly voice said behind you, your head whipping over to it. Your eyes filled with bewilderment once again. Was he talking to you? His brown irises were interlocking with your eyes, he motioned you to walk back with your pistol. “You’re also holding it wrong.”

There it was, the mistake you awaited for him to point out eventually, as he did with everything. Ghost’s jaw slightly tensed as you began to walk over back into your firing lane. Ghost would place his pistol down with the safety on. The gruffly man stepped behind you, his weight slightly behind you, his hands gripped around your wrists to correct your position.

The second you felt his warm breath in your ear, your face grew hot. “Right…” You respond to his corrective action, not able to form a sentence. How the tables have turned. HIs fingertips were somewhat gentle when he helped you fix your grip on the gun. Your eyes would blink for a few moments, trying to pull back some of the color rising in your face.

“Relax.” He murmured to you again.

You took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly out. Ghost lowered the pistol back into your hands, his grasp on your wrists loosened when you began to untense your body.

“Better.” He said with a hint of approval, turning around to place himself against the wall just behind you. Ghost crossed his arms and observed your stance for a moment, before tilting his head to the side to get a better view. “Now, try again.”

The close proximity drove you up a fucking wall. LIttle or no words spoken between you two to him helping you in your aim. Trying to decipher that man was a crisis itself and one you wouldn’t figure out until much, much later. A simple nod came from your head fearful that you’d blurt out something stupid if you spoke. You take your aim, lining down the target with the small sights on the pistol, shooting almost perfectly. You turn to look at him, attempting to read his expression under the mask.

Ghost glanced up from the firing range, his gaze wandering over to you as he took a few steps over to inspect your target.

“Good,” He praised you quietly, still observing your stance. You could hear a small airy huff as he looked at you. It almost sounded like a small smirk? “You’re a trained killer already.”

“You’re teasing me.” You responded to his comment, rolling your eyes with a playful grin tugging at your lips. Turning your sight back to the target in front of you, impressed by your own work. Ghost scoffed, his eyes wandering over to you as he watched you in silence.

“Just because you’re getting better doesn't mean you're good.” That was true, at least looking at your previous attempts on the poor target from before. Although what he said was right, he didn’t have to say it like that. It almost made you feel a bit dismantled in his choice of words. A sigh escaped his mouth. He seemed to pause before he looked back at the target.

“If you hit the center three times, I’ll take you out for drinks.” Ghost suddenly added to his statement. He? Take you out for drinks? His eyes remained on you as some sort of challenge to his own words. You were baffled at the offer, confused as to why he suddenly wanted to be around you, let alone share drinks. You’d smile at the idea of liquor, especially since it was free. Shaking off the anxiety, then looking back at the target with more focus behind your eyes, a clear shot.

You take your stance once more, to be even cockier, you only use a singular hand instead of two. Tap, Tap, Tap. Bullets flying sharply through the distance, you somehow, probably by the grace of god, landed three nearly perfect shots. Swiveling your head over to him, a smug expression plastered over your face. “Rounds are on you.”

Ghost’s eye expression widened in surprise, but he quickly disguised it with another gruff scoff. His gaze meets over to the target in front of you where you had hit the center of, then glanced back to you with furrowed brows. If he had to be honest, he was 100% sure you were going to hit the floor or the wall.

He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would normally bet, however Ghost was a man of his word. After a few moments and some pondering, he nodded. “I guess they are.” His sight lowered to the floor as he considered his offer.

You knew he wasn’t one to socialize. He’d always run off at the start of your conversations or flat out ignore people around him wanting his attention. You thought Ghost viewed you as annoying or even incomprehensible in some way, but maybe… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad.

A smug grin twitched to the corner of your lips for a moment, but you quickly hid it and cleared your throat. You begin to walk over to the weapon’s case where you had placed your pistol into, finishing your practice for the day. “Well… I guess I’ll see you after work..?” You’d ask hesitantly, furrowing your brows in a sort of confusion while looking at his taller build in front of you.

His expression was difficult to dissect, even more so with the mask that covered his face. He’d give a small, exhausted sigh when he turned his gaze towards you once again. With a small nod, he titled his head down to look at you better, studying you.

“After work it is.” He said quietly before turning away from you, then walking out of the shooting range. Probably to go hide until he saw you. Would he keep his word?

A few hours after some excruciating training with your Drill Sergeant, you found yourself waiting just outside of the base entrance, cleaned up of course. Your mind was occupied with how your outing with Ghost would go, your head racing with questions and scenarios. Ghost would eventually show up to where you were standing, surprisingly on time, which was another rare occurrence from him. Ghost’s gaze traveled up and down your appearance before tapping you on the shoulder, signaling that he was there.

“Ready to go?” He’d ask dryly.

“Oh, yeah. Ready to go.” You responded quietly, unsure of what else to do or say. Ghost would start walking ahead of you, not worrying if you’d catch up to him or not. The walk was slightly awkward and silence would fall between the two of you. Your legs stammered behind him for a few blocks just off base, enough to keep to his fast pace.

Finally arriving at the bar, a bright neon sign read “Ginny’s”. He’d head in first, sitting on a barstool. The bar was a hole-in-the wall kind of vibe, some music playing in the background and slight chattering. You follow behind him and sit in the stool next to him, looking at the area.

Ghost tapped his fingers against the counter twice to grab the bartender’s attention. He’d order himself a glass of whisky over rocks, and you whatever you told him. As the bartender prepared the drinks, Ghost’s eyes fell on you again. He wanted to ask a question.

“Why did you join?” The brits man asked you in a stern yet curious tone. He was attempting to have a conversation with you. Your body swiveled in the chair to give your attention to him, attempting to figure out your wording.

“I wanted to do something with my life, I guess.” You said to him in a quiet manner, giving him a half assed answer. His expression was unreadable from the half mask he wore. Ghost was trying to understand why you had joined, or what made you join, but he seemed a tad bit uninterested as he kept fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Something else clearly on his running mind.

“My turn.” You spoke as your irises matched with his for a split second. “Why were you so harsh on me when I first joined?” You asked him with an eyebrow raised, hoping to get some answer back from him. Yet, Ghost only drummed his fingers against the counter top before rolling his mask slightly over his lips to take a sip of his drink.He’d give you another exhausted sigh as he thinks about what he’d say next.

“You needed to learn, not to be coddled. It made you better, didn’t it?” He replied back to your question. You drift your gaze to your glass, thinking about what he had said. It was true, it had made you better.

“Plus… I saw potential.” Ghost added while looking at you with a much softer expression than his more stoic one.

You raised an eyebrow at his word choice. He was looking out for you? Actively? Wow, now if that didn’t make your stomach do flips, then what did?

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for me, lieutenant.” You joked, a teasing tone leaving your lips before sipping on your glass again. Ghost only looked at you for a moment, his gaze observing the way your lips moved while you spoke.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He’d muttered, his eye expression impassive. Before this whole interaction, you couldn’t get his attention, now it was all on you, constantly. He was thinking about something, yet you couldn’t place your finger on it. He was suddenly interested in you and he placed a bet offering to get drinks. You thought of your next question when the conversation died the next few minutes.

This was your chance to ask him for coffee sometime, maybe even dinner. “Would you be interested to grab coffee sometime with me?” You reluctantly asked, hoping for the answer you desired. You felt giddy after you asked the question. Another blank stare as he stood up from the barstool. “No.” The word leaves his mouth bluntly.

“I’m not interested.” Ghost continued, leaving a twenty at the counter and exiting the bar abruptly. His voice seemed unsure? Unsure of what he said. How was he not interested if he had his undivided attention on you since the shooting range.

Well, that was a painful rejection. Maybe you got the wrong idea when he offered going to the bar? Maybe you read his hidden expressions poorly? You watched him leave, another punch of disappointment, this one hitting your heart.

Soon after the whole scene, you finish your drink and sulk all the way back to the base and into your barracks. You kept thinking about the interaction. His eyes and mask sprayed across your memory on full blast, your brain making sure you never forgot.

The next few days were boring, your head bending around the situation that happened a while ago at the bar. A small sadness twinged on your face while you trained. Your assumptions wrapped around the clumsy words you said.

You had zero idea why you were so hell bent on this man.

It was noticeable, but you thought it through. You’d ignore it and continue doing your job and getting better at your mistakes. Everytime when you crossed paths with Ghost, he refused to look in your direction, another stab to your chest. After a week, you still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Ghost rejected you.

You’d do things on the side such as more aiming practice or intelligence collection. Anything at this point.

Although Ghost had seemed like he’d cut you off, you catch him now and again staring at you, watching you, his mind and face undecipherable.

The days stretched and became more and more of the same routine, except you didn’t have Ghost on your radar. He seemed to be avoiding you and wouldn’t even look in your direction. Did he have to be so rude about it? All he could’ve said was that he wasn’t interested politely and you would’ve moved on. Why was this so difficult? This whole situation just made you frustrated.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard a hard knock on your barrack door. A small groan escapes your mouth, attempting to tune out the sound. A louder knock comes from the door, resulting in you turning to your side to see two shadows from feet in the light under it.

You shuffle out of your bed and stammer your way towards it, wondering who could be bothering you at this hour. Unlocking the door, your hazy eyes meet with someone's chest. The sound of someone clearing their throat makes your gaze focus on their face, or mask as you now noticed.

You crossed your arms, confused and a bit taken aback as to why he was here in the first place. A remembrance of a memory where he rejected you coming across as well, a sour expression falling to your face.

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly, wanting to get this over with.

You thought he was here to berate you about your offer or to tell you that you’re in trouble for saying something of that sort. You huff at the stance and look he gave you in your own door way.

Ghost let out a small frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly to you. You raise an eyebrow to what he replied with. “Look, if you have some guilt after all, save it. You rejected me, I'll get over it eventually.” You rant once again, bluntly. You begin to close the door to your room, a strong hand stopping it. Your patience was growing thin. Another sigh coming from his nostrils.

“I know. And–I’m sorry.” He repeated with a defeated eye expression.

Your body loosens again, your gaze darting a few times, as you don’t know what to do or say back to him.. “I do have guilt for just leaving you at the bar like that.” Ghost admitted, looking at your smaller frame.

You were flabbergasted. “I know what I said, but I am interested. It was a mistake at the time.” He added, his eyes searching for your reaction. You were taken aback. You wanted to pinch yourself at this because you thought you were dreaming.

“But because of the rank difference, I was distant. Hesitant to pursue you.”

Your lips were parted slightly as you took in the information. You didn’t know what to say or think, you were left speechless. He took a step further, now in the threshold of your barrack doorway. You take a step back, your stomach beginning to wave off pressure.

Your heart wanted to rip itself out of your chest while you stared at him with blank eyes. You hesitate, wondering if this was dangerous or not, but reluctantly agree with your brain. Your body was less defensive as you looked at him with a forgiven breath. “Really?” You question him.

“This isn’t some joke or something is it?”

Ghost shook his head. “I’m being completely honest.” His hands stuffed into his pockets while looking down at your smaller frame. “I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“Does… sometime this week fit in your schedule..?”

A smile spreads across your face and you flush slightly at the thought, your heart mending itself, completely forgetting about the original rejection. You had that familiar giddy feeling again. “Yeah, we can go down the street to a new cafe that opened.” You eagerly respond to him. A quietness fell over the two of you again. Ghost’s eyes would wander over your body, taking in your tank top and shorts that you were sleeping in.

Ghost shifted his weight. “Can I come in?” He’d ask in a husky voice while searching for your approval. You nod, giving him simple permission to enter. You moved aside from your door and he swiftly came inside your room. Ghost would close the door behind himself, locking it afterwards. Your eyes had to readjust to the darkness before you turned on a lamp on your small desk.

Ghost took a few small steps towards you, inspecting your body language before he rolled up his mask past his lips slightly. His eyes asked for your approval to kiss you, you gave another nod. He leans down and places his warm lips atop of yours, a hand moving to your waist. His mouth had an accent of whisky, a small yet noticeable amount.

A free hand glides to your head, lacing fingers in your hair to pull you forward to deepen the kiss. Your hands found themselves pressed firmly against his chest, your body slightly slumped at the feeling. He breaks apart from your tender lips and looks down at you, his hand brushing against the fabric of the tank top you wore.

“Let me help you.” Ghost would say, his calloused fingers coming under your tank top, grazing over your skin. Both of you strip away the article of clothing, a cool breeze hitting your tits. Now both of his hands glide over your skin, then cup your breast. He seemed pleased, at least from what you could tell. With a small flick to your nipple, it grew hard. The pain sensation of your skin made you jolt. “All mine.”

Mind you, his eyes never left your face while he touched you. He leans down to kiss you again, a groan against your mouth when he caresses your breasts. One of his knees propped itself between your thighs, making your pussy tighten around nothing at the feeling. The kiss between the two of you becomes more rough as his tongue slips in with ease, fighting for dominance over yours. Ghost would continue to play with your chest, while his knee pressed even further against your clit. Your hips moved slightly against his thigh through the fabric of your shorts.

You let out a sigh at the feeling of your body pulsating against him, making your head spin. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up to a wall, still with his knee between your messy thighs. Your cunt was beginning to seep from your own juices, creating a wet spot in your panties.

His knee left from your needy hole for just a moment as he had you backed up. “Take them off.” You didn’t even hesitate with that demand, you took off your shorts, pushing them down until they fell to the floor. Ghost would kick them to the side,his eyes settling at the damp mess between your inner thighs.

“Such a fucking naughty one, huh?” Ghost murmured, a finger slipping under the hem of your panties, sliding them off down to your ankles. As he smoothly disregarded them, he dropped to his knees. His hands landed themselves on the outside of your upper thighs, holding you in place. A small smirk toyed on his lips before he licked at your clit, a whine escaping your mouth from anticipation. His hot breath against your pussy was just enough to send you over the wall.

He sucked and nibbled at your sensitive skin before his tongue would slide into your cunt, pumping you with it. Your body squirmed, your knees wanting to buckle from under you, which only made Ghost’s hands on your thighs tighten. For a man as asocial as he was, he knew what he was doing. It was almost unfair. Your eyes met with the ceiling of your room, giving Ghost a sign that he was doing his work correctly.

His tongue would hit the sweet spot from within you. Bingo. He’d continue to work on you, making sure to use his tongue to hear your singing voice. Ghost would still look up at your facial expressions, your mouth agape, a small hint of drool leaking from it. “Don’t stop, please.” a cry exiting your lips. Your legs trembled at the feeling of your body getting close to climaxing. It was almost embarrassing how close you were already.

“Don’t—I'm so close.” A whispering plea coming from your mouth, begging for him to do whatever he was doing.

A few more moans left your throat as you came into his. Ghost would lap up every drop from your pussy, as if he was some dog quenching its thirst, releasing soft groans against your sensitive cunt. You were panting during the time it took him to slowly guide his hands back up to your waist, holding you in place again. One of his hands breaking away to slide his own pants down, alongside his boxers, tossing them to the side when he stripped himself of his clothing.

Ghost gently wrapped his rough hand around his own cock, slowly pumping it a few times while he looked at you. Before lingering himself near you, he spit in his hand, smothering it over your throbbing pussy to prepare you. You raised yourself by your tiptoes to make it easier for him to push himself into. Guiding his cock to your entrance, his tip slipped in with ease.

He then put a hand back onto your waist, using his foot to nudge your thighs a little bit more apart. Ghost would move inch by inch, slithering himself slowly inside you to adjust to his size. He’d pull almost all the way in but not before he slid back in, stuffing you full.

“Taking me so well.” He’d whisper near your ear, ensuring you’d hear his compliment. A bulge appears from within you on your lower abdomen.

“Fuck.” He’d groan quietly while filling you.

His hips would repeat this as a way to split you open from the inside, making sure you could feel every inch of him. You could feel your eyes wanting to meet with the ceiling again. Your sounds of pleasure filling the room for a split second. That was before Ghost removed one of his hands from your waist and placed it over your mouth, silencing you.

He was anticipating how loud you’d be, hence why he covered your dirty mouth. No one could figure out what was happening between a lieutenant and a recruit. Both of you would be chewed out and probably thrown out if anyone did. You were bending the rules for your own desires, and now his. How far would it take you?

“Shhh… Try and stay quiet for me, love.” He asked in a quiet manner, hoping you’d oblige. But you knew you couldn’t keep by that promise.

Your back pushes off the wall slightly, making his cock push further into you. A muffled moan escaping from your voicebox. He’d start off slow for a minute or two then he would start fastening his thrusts within you, hitting and bruising every part. Your insides clenching down on his already sensitive cock as he fucked up into you.

Ghost would mutter things to himself as he felt himself losing it within you. The whole thing of “having what you’re not supposed’ only makes him move his hips into you more, plunging your needy hole.

The only sounds to fall into your room were his ragged fast pace breathing, the slapping of both of your bodies and your quieted moans. Your body continued to writhe and wriggle under him. His hand on your waist tightened, making sure to keep you in place.

His eyes never left yours, watching your eyebrows furrow from the pleasure. His breathing was becoming heavier, his cock pounding you deeply, abusing your body.

Your eyes threatened to release the tears that watered them while this played out. Your second orgasm on the rise to finish, you can feel him move with a more vigorous pace. It was almost too good to be true.

As you were getting closer and closer to finishing, he placed a hot kiss on your lips, pushing his tongue in to meet yours. You’d moan into his mouth while he grunted into yours. Your walls clenched around his cock, releasing yourself all over it. One last mewl escaping your mouth yet muffled by his, making it quieter.

Nothing has ever made you feel like this, especially your own fingers. This was definitely something else, something better than you imagined.

Ghost placed his hand back to your mouth after tearing away from the kiss, his eyes eager to climax himself. More forcible thrusts would enter and exit your body while you ride your orgasm out

“So good. Fuck, so good.” Ghost would say behind gritted teeth as he too, was holding back his own voice now.

His grasp on your waist tightening, bruising the supple flesh from under his textured hands. A few more movements, he pulled his throbbing cock out from your clenching walls. Pumping it again, this time coated with the sleek shine of your juices covering it.

He cums over the skin on your thighs, letting out a closed mouth grunt from it, a sort of growl. He pants slightly from all the movement. The liquid dribbled down your weakened legs.

Your legs trembled, shook even at the pressure from within your own pulsating body. Removing his hand from your mouth, he looked at your ecstasy filled body, satisfied grin placed on his lips. He moves away from your body and heads towards the bathroom where he tosses a towel over his shoulder. As you still stood against the wall, your back touching it, he began to clean the mess between your legs.

Your body ached, it was sore, and definitely bruised in several places. Ghost would carefully lead you over to your bed where he sat you on the edge to continue to clean you.

“You have a soft spot for me after all.” You teased with a weary and exhausted voice.

“I do. Only for you.”

[anyarose011]

"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

 “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

 “I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong��Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

[fangirlika]

yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH

me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Study Break

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial

“You fucked?!”

“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.

“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.

Charles only rolled his eyes.

“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened

Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”

In deep shit he was indeed.

It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.

After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.

“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.

That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.

Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.

And oh he did show you.

It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.

After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.

Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.

But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.

But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.

You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.

-

That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.

You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.

His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.

You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.

No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.

During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.

As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?

Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.

Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.

Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.

“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.

“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.

God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.

Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.

Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.

You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.

Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.

“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.

You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.

You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.

“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.

The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.

“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.

Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.

“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.

Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.

“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.

He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.

Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.

Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.

You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.

“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.

“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.

“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.

When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.

Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.

It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.

You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.

You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.

“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.

Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.

“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.

“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.

The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.

Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.

The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.

What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.

You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.

“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.

“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.

He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.

Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.

Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.

—————

Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here

here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!

@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl

[bohemianblasphemy]

First, let me just say that your writing gives me LIFE 😭 If you are still taking prompts/headcanons, I just can’t help thinking about But her and afab virgin reader 😭

Like, she is in her twenties and the fact that she’s never had sex makes her feel so insecure. It somehow comes up in a joking manner while the Boys are hanging out, and she is SO embarrassed. But Butcher just fucking freezes and it makes him feel like a creepy old man but by god he is turned on 😮‍💨

He can’t stop thinking about being her first and if it actually happens or just stays in his pervy mind is up to you 🤭

oh my gosh you are so sweet thank you!!! i have had a fun time writing this, so i hope you enjoy, i may do a follow up if people want more of this 👀✨

a bottle of whiskey, the Boys and Never Have I Ever. what could possibly go wrong?

it’s 10pm at the Boys HQ, the tables and chairs are push out and all are gathered around a bottle of cheap whiskey and everyone is feeling… relaxed, as much as they really can despite what is happening around them.

“okay okay what about we play… Never Have I Ever?” Annie giggles, earning groans from Hughie and MM. “Annie, i have not played that shit since high school.” MM complains, earning a laugh from the group. “oh come on M, it’d be fun! everytime someone has done something, we take a drink. it’ll be fine, just have a bit of a laugh…” you laugh, looking around the circle. your eyes follow around the circle from Frenchie and Kimiko smiling at each other and around to butcher, who is surprisingly quiet.

“okay i will start… never have i ever been caught having sex.” Hughie states boldly, grinning over at the sour expressions of those who have been caught before, except for you. “ y/n belle you have not?” frenchie questions, capturing the attention of those around you, especially butcher.

it has been something that has been surrounding you for your whole life. sex hadnt been something that has happened to you yet - being in your 20s you saw it as something that was embarrassing despite there being nothing to be ashamed of, but you wanted it and you exactly who you wanted it with.

Butcher. he had consumed so many of your thoughts, you’ve caught yourself staring at him so many times in the office- imagining those big strong hands on you, touching every inch of your body, kissing down your neck and chest to your most sensitive areas…

“i-I haven’t… not yet, but hey let’s got next round!” you laughed nervously, keeping your head down. butchers eyes don’t leave your body, the cogs in his mind turning as his thoughts are consumed with you.

a few more questions went around the circle before it was butchers turn. “this is a stupid game why do i hav’ta do it?” he groans, a bit tipsy from the drinking. “cmon man don’t be a sour puss just fucking ask a question.” Hughie exclaims, earning a giggle from both you and Annie. butcher rolls his eyes and utters “never have i ever NOT had sex” grinning as everyone moans “that is a silly question butcher… of course we all have.” frenchie the swigs of whiskey go all around and stops in front of you, but you dont take it.

the room is quiet, all eyes on you and your face goes red with embarrassment. “y/n you’re a vir-“ Annie questions and you admit “yep i am, i know- what a shocker!” you say sarcastically and put your head in your hands, not wanting to meet the faces of everyone around you. “ oh mon amour, we need to get someone to… help you with that” Frenchie says, earning a light punch in the shoulder by kimiko.

Butcher says nothing, his eyes boring into you, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks. he has always had an attraction to you and found himself turned on at the thought of taking you - imagining you coating his cock with your soaking cunt and becoming undone on him for the first time. his thoughts were interrupted by you standing up saying you had to leave and rushing out of the office.

“cmon Frenchie you embarrassed her! why’d you say that?” MM questioned, Frenchie replied “maybe so then butcher can finally make a move on her instead of eye fucking her from across the room.”

[yourdeluluescapist]

SHACKLES| Bangchan X Fem!reader| Request! @jiyeonslays

A/N: For some reason, anytime I give a date on anything. Life decides to hit me with its trials. Romance for some reason hinders fanfics. It was supposed to only take 2 days, but apparently my love life didn't like that answer. But i did put in more effort to make it a little more worth it. <3

Warnings: smut, creampie, semi rough sex, half angst half fluff.

WC:1617.

✧

It’d been 2 years since he went to jail for murdering him. You’d wished it hadn’t been labeled murder, it was just much needed vindication. He did it for you, to protect you, to make sure nothing came between him and his love. But thankfully, he was released today. And you were damn well gonna give him a warm welcome.

---

The price of safety from another almost felt like it wasn’t worth it. You’d missed Chan ever since he was locked up, even if it was legally wrong. It was the only way, the only exceptional thing that could’ve been done to keep you safe. You knew damn well if he didn’t do what he did, it would’ve broken you. 

You normally weren’t the one that thought killing another should ever be an option. But the pain, the abuse that went under every type, and the downright disgusting treatment of you.  It felt right, divine intervention, the only call that could begin to rectify and convict your ex of his act of torture.

Hours upon hours of his verbal berating, his fist clutching whenever you didn’t agree, and the pain from being treated like nothing and only seen as another thing on the earth that stole breath from the earth. 

But Chan? He saved you from that, freed you from that torment and showed you what real love was. Being treated like you mattered was refreshing and very much needed. He took care of you even after all the reassuring that killing him was the right decision. Throughout all he did, you were still never prepared to watch someone you hated with all of your being, simply die in front of you.

Trauma was never something you’d wanted to have to stomach, but knowing it all. You almost wished you pulled the trigger instead of Chan.

But all reminiscing made you forget the fact that you had ignored while rethinking all of this while spread out in your bed.

He’d be getting released today, and right now? You should have already been on the road..

A heavy groan and slow, yet heavy hand slowly dragging down your face. You clothed your naked body, got your keys, and left to start this dreadfully long 2 hour drive.

- - - 

He got into the passenger seat of your car, the look on his face looking different after so long. But his aura hasn't changed, he was still the same chan. Even after taking the life of a man who absolutely deserved it. That comforting smile still melted your heart, and all you wanted to see was that smile you had missed so much. All day, all night. 

“Hey, baby. It's been a while huh? Did you miss me?” Chan turned his head to you, smiling ear to ear as he studied your face again.

“Don’t ask me something stupid like that,” You leaned over from your seat and hugged him. “Of course I did, you know that.” You slightly pouted.

“Hey I was joking.” He chuckled, his tone softening from how much he missed you too. “I know you did, and you’re well aware I did too.” He embraced you and placed a gentle, clasping hand behind your head and kissed the top of your head.

”I wrote and sent you things every day! Even your favorite books, and sometimes those pictures we took a while ago.” You pulled yourself away from him to give him his space.

“And I thanked you for all of that. Especially those nude ones, I needed something to pleasure myself too.” He smirked, leaning onto the car down and placing his head on his fist.

“Even in prison, you're still a walking, talking cock.” You put the car in drive and pull out the lot.

“One you’d always happily service” He said in a jumpy tone, shooting a playful punch at your elbow.

Once you guys got on the road, silence and whatever was on the radio made the ambience of the car for the next hour. Though quiet, it was sweet. Being with him after all this time, you didn’t care how you spent your time with him.

Thinking back on all the unhinged and fun conversations you shared in this same car bestowed a lingering smile on your face. It was so good to see him again. Every part of your body pulsated and quivered with pent up excitement and libido. Being near him brought it all back, you haven’t done the deed with anyone since then, and you thought.

“God, I missed him badly. I’m wet just sitting next to him now, I’m so pent up I could just strip him and take him whole..” 

Knowing that, that's what you were going to do. You wanted him to take you whole, you’d been waiting for him to touch you, to fuck you, just simply kiss you after all this time. You just yearned for another time where his key would unlock your hole.

- - -

The feeling of being picked up and slammed on this bed he used to always take you on was lip biting. He didn’t waste a second when you shot the offer of. 

“Tonight, I don’t care what you do to me. Whatever hole you please, however rough you wanna do me. I just want you to fuck me crazy.” 

“Was this what you were waiting for? Just for me to fuck you like a slut?” He asked in a husky voice, his hands dancing against your breast. 

“Mhm.” You moaned at his touch, “That’s exactly what I want, I’ve been waiting years for this. I need you bad okay?” You quiver at every movement, you haven’t been so tense at a man’s touch since then. It feels like you couldn’t even handle this let alone full blown fucking. But your body told you, it wanted it all. 

“Well okay princess, I'm gonna have my way with you okay?” He leaned down, being mere inches away from your neck and began to pepper you down.

You nod in agreement, his lips feeling like butterfly wings across your skin as he kisses around your neck, slowly going down the line and making it to your clavicle, playfully nibbling at it and getting more sensual everytime your body shakes in pleasure. 

He groaned as his kisses got lower and the depth between each one getting harder and harder. You had basically begged for him to hurry up and get down to your pussy. Though he knew that, and he loved taking his sweet time to savor every part of you. To tease and to annoy you. 

“Oh, Chan!” You screamed, “Just get down there already, I'm begging you I can't take it anymore.” 

Taking what you said into playful consideration, he stopped kissing you from top to bottom and quickly dragged his tongue down your torso until he was met face to face with your sopping wet entrance.

He was like a plumber the way his tongue plunged his tongue in and out of your vagina. Also following that, the onslaught of a very much invited finger joined in to make sure your pipes were cleaned. 

He only sucked more and more, kept changing from fast and slow with his fingers. You couldn't handle it anymore, your body knew it couldn't hold that orgasm any longer. And knowing that, you came all over his face and his fingers.

“That's only the first time, sweetheart. He uttered, licking his finger clean and beginning to take his briefs off. Releasing his rock hard cock, veins bulging all the way from the tip down. Tense and ready to reunite with its plaything once more.

He had crawled on top of you, showing every ounce of his muscular body like it was in 4k. His big chest, his bolstering biceps, and chiseled abs. Also not ignoring his huge package that was waiting to get in the back of your truck.

“Are you finally gonna actually fuck me? You know I hate that foreplay shit, I'm too horny for that.” You playfully pout at him, a seductive smirk growing on your face.

“Mhm,” He began to drag his tip around your clit, covering it in all of your sweet juices. “Just you like it.” He said as he rammed it inside you, a strong sexual moan escaping your mouth with pants following its path.

“Oh my, FUCK. I needed this, after so long I’ve been begging to be filled up like this again. His cock is just playing inside me, I can feel every throb with double the effect. My pussy is just hugging him back with every time that dick shows me it still wants me.

He didn't beat around the bush this time, his strokes went deep. In and out repeatedly, harder and harder with every second that passed. You could feel him getting closer and closer, and you only began to think more wildly. Making you wrap your arms around his torso, your grip tight as he started to pound you harder. 

“Cum inside me, Chan. Please, I want it so bad.” 

“As you wish, princess.” He replied, going balls deep inside you and releasing a fat load inside you. One that would definitely knock you up.

You pant and pant feeling his cum course through your vagina.

After he dropped that inside you, he had basically collapsed on top of you, obviously wore out after so long without sex. Though he was heavy this was the only time that you would let this happen .So you caressed his head and your fingers through his hair as he cuddled up on you. 

You missed this and would do anything to keep this forevermore.

[rayveneyed]

continuation of this au

cw: mentions of cheating/infidelity/disloyalty; vague allusions to sex

“so, like, what’s his deal?”

two months into your relationship with sukuna ryomen, you’re personal-assistant-turned-friend carries a bouquet of a hundred red roses into your dressing room. they’re so large that they eclipse her entire top half, and she pants as she sets them down on the table, cursing to herself.

it’s the first night of your mini-tour, your first performance in a good few months, and you don’t bother pretending that the sight of the flowers doesn’t soothe your nerves immediately. there’s a little note attached to the pale-blue cellophane that hugs the flowers; in his chicken-scratch, a love letter. i already know you’ll knock it out of the park. blow their minds, baby.

you read it over and over again, mind flitting between the set list for the night and where you’d been just days earlier — in his home, in his bed, in his arms. he’d sent you off well and truly satisfied, called you almost every day since, and hadn’t missed a single good morning text. and now, this. you fight a swoon.

hair laid — 1940s pin curls — and makeup done (a deep, oxblood red lip, really selling the whole vintage aesthetic), you lift your head to peer at her in the mirror. karmen really would kill you if you got foundation on your neckline — the first dress of the concert is white, glimmering with rhinestones and embroidery, a more virginal jessica rabbit moment. you force yourself to hold your chin up and away from it. “hm?”

“you know.” unscrewing the lid of her water bottle, nina waves it in a vague shape in front of her. “sukuna. ryomen, that is.”

“is there any other?” you joke. she sends you perhaps the most unimpressed look she’s ever bequeathed you with.

“i just never thought he’d be your type,” she continues, casual. “like, real oil and water vibes. i don’t know. but the roses are a nice touch.”

you hum. you’ve known her long enough to not take offence to most of what nina says -- she's wonderfully blunt, and you value that greatly. instead, you pick up your phone and open the camera app, zooming in and out to snap a couple of pictures of your flowers. exposure up, down, up, down -- should you take one at an angle? “oil and water?”

“yeah, i guess." there's a moment of silence, and then: "like — you’re always talking about how you wanna settle down and get married and, like, be loyal to someone, y'know? and he’s just — look, i’m not saying that he’s not loyal to you, i’m just—”

she makes a noise of frustration, and you snort. "he's just, like, a little bit of a whore, right? sorry, i don't mean to be mean -- but has he had a serious relationship in the past 10 years? and all of a sudden he’s talking about you to anyone who will listen — allegedly. allegedly.” she pauses. “how are you taking this so lightly? i'm literally bagging on your man."

finally, you set your phone down, and actually take a second to heed her words.

in truth, you had been extremely cautious when sukuna first showed an interest in you -- sat beside each other at a fashion show, never having met before. you'd be stupid to call it mere coincidence -- nothing in this industry ever really is, and the organisers had definitely gotten the photo op moment they'd hoped for. you're almost 100% sure they hadn't expected for him to stare at you like an idiot, or for you to shoot him your most demure smile, or for the actor to pull out his most casanova-esque moves.

you're not stupid, and what nina says isn't wrong. you're not into hooking up, or one night stands, or being another notch on someone's bedpost -- you weren't before you got famous, and you sure as hell aren't now, when there are cameras around every corner and gossips at every table. and sukuna isn't exactly known for his long-standing relationships or his monogamy -- it's almost like a rite of passage, you think, for a girl to have a shadowy nightclub picture taken with sukuna. if not a shadowy nightclub picture, then a steamy pool shot, or a sensual beach picture, with his hands up her t-shirt and her's down his pants.

despite his general bad-boy appearances in the media, you'd heard that he was quite… kind, if that’s the word. brash, but kind. a little hardheaded, but hard-working, and not too difficult to work with. you've met music video directors that had sung his praises and trusted producers that had called him a good friend. maybe that's why you'd spoken to him when you caught him staring, instead of sending him a smile and continuing on.

"is this your first time at a mugler show?" because it had been yours, and you didn't know what else to say. you wouldn't call yourself shy, but you're certainly not the most adept at small talk -- and you're not ugly, but sukuna is intimidatingly pretty for a man. and the tattoos, and the hair, and those smouldering eyes and long lashes...

"not my first,” he'd replied, seemingly unbothered that he had been caught staring. "y’know, i don't think we've met before."

"no, i don't think we have.”

and yet, there’d been no need for introductions. you were both aware that the other knew who you were.

"you, uh — you doin' somethin' after this?" the question had come out of nowhere -- at least, to you it did. what you didn't know is that he'd been repeating the question to himself from the moment he'd sat down beside you. and while his face didn't betray anything -- his jaw set and his eyes in their usual half-lidded state -- if you'd reached out and placed a palm over his chest, his heartbeat would have rabbitted against your hand.

you had allowed yourself a smile, and tilted your head. of course, his reputation proceeded him — but you were nothing if not a risk taker. maybe that’s why, instead of outright denying his invitation, you said: “i don’t do casual, darling. sorry.”

his eyes had been almost piercing. that wasn’t a no. “who said anything about casual?”

you’d quirked an eyebrow. “really? you want to go steady with me?”

“why not?”

“you don’t even know me.”

“i want to.”

and fuck. it wasn’t the smartest decision in hindsight, leaving the show so openly with him — but you did, arm in arm, and he hadn’t yet broken your trust. perhaps stupid of you, you didn’t believe he would.

“y’know,” you say, snapping out of your memories. you’re back in your dressing room, clutching his card in hand, staring at your reflection. “i don’t know what it is. i don’t know why he suddenly changed his tune. i don’t know why it was with me. and — well, i know he won’t, but if one day he leaves me for some waify scandi model, i’ll know he didn’t really change at all.”

nina nods, slow, like she finally understands. “you’re going in headfirst.”

“yeah, i guess.”

“that shit’s scary.”

“yeah.” you lift the card to your face again, thumb smoothing over where he’d scrawled your name, the little heart where he signed his love. your cheeks feel hot. you know there’s a facetime call waiting for you when you’re back at the hotel, tucked into bed and sleepy. “it’s really not so bad, at the end of the day.”

[berrieluv]

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: remus dies his hair red and you go feral.

kiki says: i saw this pics of david and i couldn’t help it. this history contains smut, MDI please, it mentions reader and remus being in his twenties and in college. reader is a horn dog but with a bf like remus who wouldn’t. there’s mentions of cum play, oral sex (male receiving) but it’s mostly domestic life fluff i think. sorry if somethings is wrong, english isn’t my first language.

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚.

smut below the cut.

remus lupin had no right being this extraordinary specimen of a man he was. he was already too cool for you to handle, the mastermind behind every marauder plan, one of the top students in all his classes, what’s more attractive than a boy who loved to see the world burning but never burn with it.

sometimes you pinched yourself every time he called you ‘baby’ because nothing felt real next to him. it didn’t feel like you were on earth.

“no” you signed as soon as your boyfriend entered your shared department with a half smirk “no, no, no, no, NO!”

the last ‘no’ was higher and accompanied of a tantrum, the kitchen flannel was now on the floor and you walked straight to the bedroom. remus followed you, frowning in silence and found you lying in bed.

“what?” he chuckled.

“how could you do that do me?”

“what did i do” your arms start to violently move, pointing at his — now orange — hair. “well, sirius had a perm and he said i would look good”

“sirius had a perm?” you were really curious about what would made him take that decision, and more, how did it turned out?

“yes, never mind. what’s wrong with my hair?” he said, touching his already messy hair “i can change it if it bothers you that much”

you turn to face the pillow and take a second to scream against it.

“you look really fucking hot” you respond nonchalantly, as if you weren’t throwing the biggest tantrum of your early twenties. “it’s not fair”

“you’re like this because i look good? i thought i looked hideous. i thought i looked like those unemployed people who drop out of college to start a band”

“you look really good” you say “and definitely knowing you’re going to the university helps your character a lot”

“then what?”

you sigh in pain “i masturbate at the thought of you a lot, remmy”

he chuckles “thank you, baby”

“a lot, remmy” you emphasize “i mean it”

“i masturbate thinking of you too”

“yeah, the two times you’ve ever masturbate, and i’ve always finish it for you”

“what’s that?”

“you don’t like masturbating”

“well, no” he starts “i have you. and even before of that i wasn’t a fan, sorry?”

“not the point” you discard his apology “the thing here is, that doesn’t affect you as much as it does to me” you feel suddenly embarrassed, hidding your head on the pillow while remus sits on the mattress with your legs on his thighs “i can see myself getting out of bed later thanks to you. taking more time showering because of you. and what when you’re not here? i’ll just think about that stupid hair and have to do it”

“c’mmom” he laughs “you don’t masturbate at the mere sight of me”

“you don’t know what’s going on under those sheets, remus”

“fine. fine. fair enough” he kisses your shoulder “i don’t mean to brag, baby, but you make me feel really desired”

“you are, remmy. why do you think i make sure to kiss you every time we’re at the school cafeteria?”

“because you love me?”

“no, silly” he looks at you offended “well, yes, that too. but i just have to make sure everyone knows you’re with me”

remus chuckles again, that’s the only thing he knows how to do in moments like this one, where he felt so close to you and in his mind was only one thing.

fuck you.

in any way he could, he just wanted you to warm his cock.

he threw your shirt somewhere in the room and now he was on top of you. both of his legs at your sides and he just took his time kissing your lips and caressing your face.

he took off his clothes as soon as he could, he was an eager and busy man.

remus fucked like he was being chased. his goal was making you cum as fast as he could while that motherfucker just smirked and edged himself, watching the whimpering mess he made you, you couldn’t take any more and yet he still hasn’t cum.

“my pretty, pretty, baby”

remus sat on your belly, his already hard cock was resting between your breasts and he holds himself onto the bead board with one hand while the other toys with your boob.

you moan in his lips and he just has to bite your lips.

“my pretty, horny princess” he’s making fun of you. you know it by the smirk forming in his stupid handsome face “eager, baby?”

he knows you are, you always are. remus starts to move his hips against your torso, his balls humping against your skin.

a few seconds before that, remus starts getting closer to your mouth, finally standing with his knees in a way that his cock is directly in your lils.

you of course, receive him with an open mouth, how could you not when he looks this hot.

his balls are resting on your boobs and his big cock is now inside of your mouth, he toys with your face as if it was nothing, like you don’t have a gag reflex at all.

remus caresses your face with a soft completely opposed to his strokes. every time you suck his dick he makes a mess of you, he pulls out for a second and slaps your pretty face, you moan and he smiles, how can this moment not be perfect?

“you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever slapped”

you chuckle, you’re also the only girl he’s ever slapped and you intended to continue like that.

remus kisses you after putting his cock on your mouth again and this time you raise your head so he could hit deeper, he holds your hands as soon as he sees you trying to touch him and he laughs every time he felt you wanting him to let go. he pulls out of you and he hears your cries, because you wanted more.

“what, baby?” he smiles, leaning down on you to kiss you “you know i wouldn’t cum right there. s’ not much like me, is it?”

and it wasn’t, but you thought that maybe that hair would make him change his mind and not be so cruel about filling your mouth with cum, his cum.

“don’t be mean, remmy” you manage to say while trying to get back your breath. “s’ just not fun. you don’t cum. and i don’t cum, why are we even having sex?”

he smirks and raises his hands in a way of declaring himself innocent, of what? you wouldn’t know, remus’ brain overworked while having sex and yours simply stopped working.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

and, as if being under his body with your face covered in saliva and his pre-cum wasn’t humiliating enough, he had to make you bed.

“yes, please, remmy” and you were weak. you would beg if he wanted you to. “please, please, i need you, need your cum, remmy”

“wow, you’re unbelievable. how do you look this pretty while begging? i would look embarrassing”

“s’ part of my charm”

“let’s have you cumming, baby, shall we? if you’re good enough i’ll stuff you with my cum too”

“not too many rounds, remmy. just cum”

he laughs, but you’re not kidding. he kisses your temple and nods.

and by the end of the night you’re a complete mess. there’s cum leaking from your pussy and you can still taste it in your mouth, your breasts are sparkling with it too and remus tries to get you up to take a shower but you’re way too proud of yourself.

remus lupin came four times that night, and here you were thinking that red hair didn’t make him change his mind, because there was no way a brunette remus lupin would cum more than twice the same day.

“and ruin my victory that soon?” you responded when he begged again for you to go to the bathroom with him “let me be, remmy”

“baby, i promise i’ll cum more but please. you have to pee and shower”

“i’m just so happy right now, remmy”

“have a shower and i’ll stuff your pretty pussy with cum again for you to sleep like that, fine? but at least you’re clean for the night”

and just like that, your body was already receiving the cold drops of water.

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 16

You're on a secret mission today. No, not the undercover surveillance mission - do you even care about that one at this point?

This is a much more important mission - a covert operation.

It is unlike any you have ever faced before. And it will demand every ounce of feminine charm you possess—though, admittedly, that's not a lot.

You don't exactly have a ton of experience with this. But you’re not part of the UNICORNS for nothing; you're brave, resourceful, and determined. You've fought hundreds of Wanderers and survived multiple attempts on your life.

So bedding a ~400-year-old virgin should be easy, right?

Right???

You’ve never thought of yourself as sexy—or even especially attractive—so you feel a bit foolish as you slip into the lingerie you bought just for this occasion. The black lace clings to every curve as if it were specifically made for you, yet somehow it makes you feel even more vulnerable than if you were completely naked. It highlights all of the spots that Xavier seems particularly fond of kissing - the curves of your breasts, your stomach, and the swell of your hips. The delicate strip of lace that fits snug between your thighs barely covers you, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

You tug at the almost nonexistent scraps of fabric, hoping they will somehow expand and conceal more of your skin, but it’s useless. 

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? You feel every bit the awkward, blushing virgin, not the confident sex kitten you'd hoped to be.

Please, God, don't let him laugh when he sees it.

You quickly throw on some clothes—Xavier’s oversized red sweater and a pair of black leggings—before you can second-guess yourself and take it all off. You leave your hair loose and natural, adding a light spritz of vanilla perfume to your neck and wrists. You keep the makeup minimal, opting for a touch of lip gloss and a light sweep of mascara—just enough to accentuate your best features. 

The goal is to look pretty, but still casual enough to lure this elusive bunny into your trap.

You take a final look in the mirror, exhaling a deep breath as you brace yourself. This is either going to be the best night of your life or really, really embarrassing.

Either way, Operation: Seduce Xavier - All the Way has officially begun. It's too late to back out now.

You know you can't rush these things; if it's meant to happen, it will, and you would never force it. But you're pretty sure that, despite his old-fashioned ways, he wants to take this next step with you. He just needs a little nudge to push him over the edge.

The timing for this feels either just right or completely wrong - with nothing in between. Despite your efforts to put on a happy face last night, Xavier could see right through you. He knew something was wrong the moment you walked in the door, and you'd spent most of the night trying to reassure him that you were fine. 

He knew better, but he finally let it go before bed, cuddling you with a tenderness that weighed heavy on your heart.

He has his secrets, and now you have yours.

If you were being brutally honest, your mission today is about more than just pent up attraction.

Seeing Rafayel has made you desperate to solidify your connection with Xavier; to feel for him what you felt in just five seconds with Raf. It was just one kiss - and yet, somehow, it was as if your heart remembered his the moment your lips touched. 

But that's stupid, isn't it? The stuff of fairy tales. That doesn't happen in real life.

The feeling was more intense than it had any right to be, and you cannot make sense of it. It’s not as if you were ever truly together, so there's no reason for this to knock you off-balance the way that it has. Yet somehow, closing the door on a future with Rafayel has sparked a hunger within you—a craving that only one man can satisfy.

And today just happens to be that man's birthday.

Birthday sex is not cliché, is it?

Hell, it probably is, but you’re determined to make this the most unforgettable birthday Xavier has ever had. It's not just another day. It could be a first - for both of you.

And it all begins now. You square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk into the living room with more confidence than you actually feel.

Xavier is sprawled on the couch, engrossed in The Little Prince , absentmindedly munching on a bag of chips. He looks cozy in his gray sweatpants and loose white t-shirt, his messy hair falling across his forehead. A slight crease forms between his brows as he reads, completely lost in the story.

You’d given him the book and a card for his birthday—a little diversion, a little compromise. He’d mentioned that he usually spends the day reading and enjoying a good meal, so you’d spent the morning making him breakfast in bed, followed by a cozy afternoon curled up reading on the couch together. All in all, it was a good way to spend the day.

But now it's time for the real birthday to start.

"How's my little prince?" you ask, sinking onto the couch beside him and snuggling against his side.

Xavier groans but pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you. "You cannot start calling me that."

"And why not?" You ask, poking him in the chest. "You don't like it?"

"No," Xavier shakes his head, his voice losing some of its teasing tone. "Not that one."

You glance at him curiously, surprised that he sounds serious. You've never known him to be picky about pet names. In fact, you're pretty sure he secretly loves them.

"Alright," you say slowly. "Then how about Xavie? Xay Xay? Xavie baby?"

Xavier scrunches up his nose, making a disapproving noise.

"Not those either? Okay, fine. You leave me no choice," you say with a playful grin. "Birthday Bunny it is."

He lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and sets the book aside to pull you into a kiss.

"One day," he agrees, peppering your cheeks and nose with small kisses. "You can call me that for one day a year."

"Every October 16th," you nod, grinning. "Got it. That means... 6 hours until I have to stop using it. We better get to work."

"Get to work?" He raises an eyebrow at you, confused.

"I have a surprise for you," you whisper, stealing a kiss from his lips that was meant for your cheek. "It's something sweet."

"Hmm," he hums, pretending to be deep in thought. 

"This surprise wouldn't have anything to do with all of the ingredients you bought yesterday, would it? Flour, and sugar, and candy,” he lists off. “All of the things someone might need to make a...cake?"

Xavier doesn’t bother hiding his smile, and his starburst eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Xavier Shen!" You gasp, though there's no real surprise in your voice. You hadn't exactly been stealthy. "I told you not to look in those bags!"

"It was an accident," he says, his smile growing wider. "I'm clumsy. I tripped and my face landed right in the bags. It hurt a lot."

"You are a huge, really old, terrible liar," you say, attempting to scowl, but your laughter spills out as you pinch his cheek.

He laughs with you, tilting his face away from your playful fingers, then stands up from the couch.

"Do I get to help?" He asks, reaching down to offer you a hand.

He pulls you up with such enthusiasm that you stumble into him with a giggle. "Of course! It's your birthday; it's your cake. I'm just here to supervise."

He struggles to pout past his smile, "I don't need supervision."

You give him a sidelong glance, smirking, but decide not to mention the last time he nearly burned down the apartment complex. After all, it is his birthday. You can let that one slide.

You and Xavier work together to mix the ingredients for a simple, round white cake. You walk him through greasing the cake pan and adding the batter, though you bite your tongue when you notice he’s overfilled it. It probably won’t matter, you remind yourself, and the main goal is for him to enjoy the process. Still, while he’s distracted, browsing through the cake decorations, you quietly adjust the oven to the correct temperature.

There will be no Xavier kitchen disasters on your watch. At least, not today.

As the cake bakes, you seize the opportunity to set your plan in motion. 

You start by casually brushing against him while arranging the decorating supplies, trying to catch his attention. When that doesn’t seem to do the trick, you intentionally knock over an oven mitt and bend down to pick it up, doing so slowly to make sure he notices the way your leggings cling to your ass as your sweater rides up. You think you've finally gotten his attention, but when he looks over, all he does is smile and return to scooping icing into piping bags, completely unfazed.

What the hell? Does he really love cooking that much? 

In movies and cheesy romance novels, this kind of thing always works. You can’t help feeling a bit silly now. You’d hoped that if you kept him worked up throughout the day, he wouldn’t be able to resist you tonight. But, apparently, none of this works on him. He's either too oblivious or too innocent to even notice.

As the sweet scent of cake fills the apartment, you slip onto the stool beside him at the bar counter, pulling a half-empty bowl of icing closer to inspect it. He’d mixed it himself while you were busy trying to play seductress, and it actually looks perfect. Smooth and creamy, just the right thickness for piping.

Xavier glances over, flashing you a grin, and dips his finger into the icing before bringing it to your lips. "Try it. I think I got it right."

Your stomach does a little flip as you open your mouth, and he slides his finger in. The icing is rich and sweet, with the perfect balance of butter and sugar, and you trace your tongue along his finger, making sure to get every last bit.

His eyes, locked on your mouth, grow darker as you attempt to tease him by sucking gently.

"Do you like it?" He asks, rubbing his finger against your tongue before slowly withdrawing it.

His voice has dropped to a low, suggestive tone that makes your heartbeat quicken, and suddenly, you're not sure if he's talking about the icing or something else entirely. But that hardly matters—you may not be a good seductress, but you still know an opportunity when you see one.

"Um, I don't know," you stammer, as you feel your own cheeks start to heat up. "I need to taste it again. Just to be sure."

His eyes linger on your mouth, flick to the bowl, and then drift back to your lips. He dips two fingers into the icing, and then lifts them back up to your parted lips. But instead of feeding you, he smirks and smears the icing from the corner of your mouth to the side of your cheek, leaving a playful, sticky line in his wake.

You're surprised for only half a second before you laugh and swat at him. "Xav! You did not!"

He catches your wrist in his hand with ease, and tugs you closer. "Hold still." He laughs, "I think you might have gotten some on your face."

"Oh, you think?"

"Yeah, don't know how that happened," he says under his breath, moving his other hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

His lips press gently against yours, and he teases away the smear of icing on your lips with his tongue. You part your mouth for him, and he deepens the kiss. It's sweet and warm, and leaves you wanting more as he pulls back to wipe the icing off of your cheek.

He sucks the sticky residue off his thumb, and you feel a warm ache between your thighs at the sight.

Does he do that on purpose? He must. He must know.

"It's good," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "Not too sweet. Just right."

You're contemplating whether or not you could move fast enough to smear icing all over his face as payback when the oven timer goes off with a loud beep. He turns away before you get the chance, slipping on oven mitts and carefully easing open the oven door.

You hold your breath as Xavier pulls the cake out and sets the warm pan down on the counter to cool. It has risen just over the pan’s edges, but it is a perfect golden brown color and has baked evenly across.

"It looks so good!" You praise, feeling genuinely impressed and relieved. 

It does look good. Better than you could have hoped for.

Xavier's smile borders on brilliant as he looks between you and the cake, and it’s so heartwarming that you’d do anything to keep that starlight in his eyes forever. In this moment, you think—if there’s any purpose to life, maybe this one is yours.

As the cake cools, you move on to the decorations and present him with his options. You know stars are kind of his whole thing, but you couldn't resist picking out something that might make him laugh.

"Okay. Biggest decision of the night," you say, holding up an item in each hand. "Bunnies or stars?"

Xavier rolls his eyes, taking the small, marshmallow bunny from your hand and inspecting it with a smile. "You're really not going to let this bunny thing go, are you?"

"Why would I? You're my birthday bunny for...I don't know...5 more hours?"

He laughs and shakes his head, "Alright. Let's do both."

"Both?"

"Yeah," he nods, placing the marshmallow back into your hand. "Bunnies and stars belong together, don't they?"

"You're right," you say softly, a feeling of warmth blooming inside of your chest. "They do."

It’s such a simple statement, light and playful, nothing that has to mean anything. Just harmless flirting - not something you should take so seriously. But you’re losing yourself in him, and finding love in every word, every breath, every glance. 

You’re certain he must feel it too—but does he feel it the way you do?

Together, you and Xavier pipe delicate blue and purple swirls of buttercream all over the cake until it's fully covered in icing. You scatter small candy stars over the top, and add one white marshmallow bunny and one yellow star to the center. It’s far from a professional finish and the colors do not exactly go together, but that only adds to its charm.

You made it together; it was always going to be perfect.

"Only one candle?" Xavier asks, rifling through the bag of decorations and pulling out a singular, white candle.

"Yeah," you reply slowly, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I thought... well, hundreds would be too many for one cake, and... it's your first birthday with me. You know, the first one we’re spending together."

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you feel a little stupid saying it out loud. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but your reasoning sounds embarrassingly naive and kind of cheesy.

Xavier’s eyes shine with warmth as he leans in, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He presses a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, then a second, deeper kiss to your lips. 

"It’s the first one that has ever mattered. One candle is perfect."

You bite your lip to keep your feelings from tumbling out of your mouth. It's the first one that has ever mattered because it matters to you - and you matter to him. 

And you may just tell him exactly how you feel if you open your mouth, so instead you simply nod.

Together, the two of you complete the final touches on the cake. Xavier gently nestles the candle into the icing while you search for a lighter.

"Got it," you say, pulling it from the kitchen drawer before returning to his side, standing over the cake together. "Do you know what you’re going to wish for?"

"I do, yeah."

With your eyes on Xavier, you light the candle, and a little flame flares to life. You watch as he leans in to blow it out, and try to etch every detail of this moment into your memory.

"Should I sing?"

Xavier laughs, his eyes finding yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. "I would like that."

Blushing, you awkwardly clear your throat and launch into the most off-key rendition of the birthday song ever sung. He watches you with a smile so warm it makes your cheeks burn even brighter.

As your song comes to an end, he laces his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it.

"Do you want to know what I wished for?"

"No!" You say quickly, laughing as you smile up at him. "You can't tell me. It will ruin the birthday magic."

He gives you a tender smile, his hand cradling your cheek as his thumb brushes softly against your skin. 

"I don’t need magic to make this wish come true; I just need you." His voice is gentle, his eyes searching yours before he continues. "After this, let's spend every year together."

It's a wish and a request - all at once. You’ve never felt happier as you whisper a soft yes against his lips, and seal your promise with a kiss.

"What did you wish for?" he asks, breaking the kiss just long enough to pose the question.

"Me?" You ask, confusion knitting your brows.

"It's our first birthday together," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't you get to make a wish, too?"

You smile at him, shaking your head. "That's not how birthdays work, bunny. Only one person gets to make a wish when they blow out the candles."

He thinks for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before it melts into an excited grin. "Come on," he says, "We'll start a new birthday tradition."

Before you can even ask, he’s already pulling you down the hall, and guiding you out onto the bedroom balcony.

You shiver as the cool night air greets you, and he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You lean into his warmth, waiting for him to explain what this new tradition could be.

When he remains silent, and all you can see is the sleepy, darkened neighborhood, you turn your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Look up," he whispers against your ear.

You turn your eyes to the night sky, where only the moon and stars are reflected back at you. Then, a small glimmer of light streaks past, disappearing as quickly as it came. Another follows, then another, and another. A small shower of bright trails light up the sky, leaving a brief shimmers behind them.

"It's so pretty," you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

It takes you a moment longer than it should to realize that he's doing this. That those are his falling stars, and they're all for you.

"Make a wish," he says, pressing a kiss against your hair. "I'll make it come true."

It’s beautiful—absolutely breathtaking; a sight few people will ever get to see. But it’s not the pretty lights dancing across the sky that have left you feeling breathless. It's him.

He’s offering you a wish, a promise to make it come true. And without a single doubt, you know he’d do anything to keep that promise for you.

You begin to tremble in his arms as warmth spreads from your heart and fills every inch of you with absolute certainty. You understand, suddenly, how very dumb you have been today. You weren't craving intimacy and unbridled passion. Not really.

No, this feeling—this pure, unshaken faith and limitless hope for the future—is the feeling you’ve been seeking all along.

You’d wondered if what you felt yesterday could ever be matched, and now you know that it can't.

Because this is not a match; it's an eclipse. It’s not the same, and you wouldn't want it to be.

It is wildly, beautifully, utterly different.

Kissing Rafayel had felt like drowning—like being crushed by a wave of memories from the past that were too intense and passionate to understand. 

But this, wrapped in Xavier's arms as he lights the night sky with unspoken promises, feels like catching a glimpse of your future.

This isn’t a brutal, inescapable tide that pulls you under and leaves you gasping for air. It’s the warm, secure comfort of finally coming home after being lost for far too long.

"I love you," you whisper, wishes and stars forgotten as you turn in his arms to face him.

Xavier cradles your face in his hands, his gaze filling with wonder, as though you hold his entire universe in your eyes.

"Say it again."

"You didn't hear me?" You ask softly.

"Just say it again."

"I love you, Xavier," You repeat, your pulse racing.

He releases a long, unsteady breath, his body trembling under your fingers as a tender, vulnerable smile lights up his face.

"I love you, too." He says, his voice strained with pent up emotion. "I've always loved you."

He said it back; it's real. Your heart has either stopped beating entirely or it's just racing so fast that you can't tell one beat from the next.

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are around his neck, and before you can fully process it, he lifts you into his arms and pulls you into a kiss. It’s impossibly gentle, and he holds you as if you are the most precious, delicate thing he's ever touched.

"Because of you," Xavier says, his eyes brimming with affection as he looks up at you, "I've started to feel emotions I've never felt before. And I've done a lot of things I wouldn't normally do. I didn't know it could feel like this."

Tears of happiness blur your vision, and you nod, understanding exactly what he means because you feel it, too.

"You mean everything to me," you whisper, your voice trembling as you struggle to find the right words. "You're all I want, Xav. I'm all yours."

"And I'm yours. Completely." He says, his voice low and sure, and the sky above brightens as a cascade of shooting stars streak across the night.

He wipes a happy tear from your cheek as he gently sets you back on your feet, and you laugh - overwhelmed and elated in equal measure.

You know it’s probably too soon to say these things, to feel these things. It makes no sense how he’s captured your heart so quickly, or how you seem to hold his just as tightly. 

But there has never been any logic in love; you either feel it or you don't. And right now, it's the only thing you can feel.

"I love you," you say again, hugging him close, still in awe that you get to say it out loud.

"One more time."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," you chant, smiling against his chest.

"I could never get tired of hearing you say that," he says, laughing softly.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a while now," you admit.

"I've wanted to say it for much longer."

"It's not a competition, bunny."

"No," he agrees, still smiling, "But if it were, I'd win."

"How do you know that? Maybe I've been madly in love with you for months." You counter.

His smile wavers, his expression turning thoughtful. He opens his mouth as if to say something but stops, shaking his head gently before finally saying, "You'll have to trust me on this one."

You know that look; you recognize that hesitancy, but you pretend not to as he leads you back inside the apartment. His hesitation doesn’t unsettle you the way it used to. You do trust him, now more than ever, and there's nothing that could rob you of the happiness you feel tonight.

The cake ended up tasting even better than it looked, and you praised him with exaggerated moans and hums of delight as you shared it together. His blushes and half-hearted complaints over your dramatics faded into laughter, and before long, his laughter became your own as he chased you from the kitchen to the living room.

You laugh and squirm as he pins you to the couch, his fingers relentlessly tickling your sides. When his hands brush against your sweater, grazing the lingerie beneath, you fall silent as the memory of your plan for the night springs to mind. 

It doesn’t seem as important now, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still want him—perhaps even more than before. Just not for the same reason.

You love him, and you want him to feel that love in every possible way.

Xavier stops his playful assault once he notices you've gone quiet, and his fingers still to a caress as he takes in your expression.

"I know that look," he teases, looking down at you. "What are you planning?"

"Planning? Me? Nothing." You say innocently, even as you start to blush. "I was just thinking that now that the birthday bunny has had his cake, he might want to open his present."

Xavier tilts his head to the side, giving you a confused look. "Didn't I already open my present?"

"Not this one. There's one more. It's...hidden somewhere. You'll have to find it."

"Hidden?" He scans the living room and small dining room before his eyes drift back to yours.

A slow smile spreads across his face, "Hmm. Not in here," he murmurs, and leans down to nuzzle your neck. "I wonder where it could be?"

He kisses and sucks a sensitive spot below your ear, and your pulse races as he nudges your thighs apart.

"Is it in the bedroom?" He suggests, his mouth moving down your neck as he settles his weight on top of you.

You hadn’t really thought about how to show him this particular gift, and now, with his hands on you, you're too distracted to think of anything clever. But the way he’s already touching you tells you that he won't have any trouble figuring it out on his own.

"No, not in the bedroom," you whisper. "It's somewhere much closer."

"Much closer," he mumbles against your neck, his hand slipping under your sweater to trail up your stomach. His fingers tease along the edge of your bra before he gently squeezes your breast.

"This close?" He asks, rocking his hips against yours.

"Getting warmer," you gasp, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against you through the fabric or your clothes.

Xavier pauses, propping himself up on one arm as his eyes meet yours. His gaze slowly drops, lingering where his hand is hidden under your sweater. You feel the light, curious tracing of his fingers over the lace of your bra, and see the moment his eyes widen.

"Oh," he breathes, lifting your sweater up to your chest. His breath catches as his eyes fall on the delicate, sheer black lace of your bra.

He swallows thickly at the sight before him, his lips parted as his breathing turns uneven. "This is my present?"

Your cheeks flush with warmth, and you resist the urge to tug your sweater back down. Instead, you manage a shaky, "Yeah. There's... more."

His eyes snap back up to yours, and he pushes himself back on his knees to trail his hands down your stomach and rest on the waistband of your leggings. 

Your stomach tightens with anticipation as you wait for him to say something—anything—to reveal what he’s thinking. But the way his pupils are blown wide and his gaze devours you is at least a little reassuring.

"More?" he echoes, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband as he looks up at you, waiting for permission.

You give him a shy nod, lifting your hips to let him slide your leggings down your thighs. As the sheer, black lace of your barely-there panties comes into view, his face twists with something between awe and agony, like you look so good that it hurts.

You suck in a quick breath, your stomach coiling in a mix of pleasure and self-consciousness, as he runs his fingers lightly along the delicate fabric between your legs.

He's being so quiet, and the fire his touch ignites in your stomach does nothing to reassure you that you don't look ridiculous wearing something like this.

"Do you...like your present?" you ask softly.

"Like it?" he whispers, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of you. "I...love it, you, this..."

You bite your lip to hide your nervous smile as he seems to struggle to find his next word.

"You don't usually wear things like this," he says finally, meeting your eyes, and you can see the hunger there more clearly now. "Is it just for birthdays?"

"It's just for you," you whisper, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable as he rubs his fingers more firmly over the damp lace of your panties. "Whenever you want me to wear it."

He groans, a low, rough sound that vibrates in his throat, and trails his eyes slowly down from your chest to your panties. 

Without a word, he stands from the couch, quickly sliding your leggings the rest of the way off. He slips one arm underneath your knees and the other behind your waist, and carries you bridal style toward the bedroom.

The moment he sets you down on the bed, his hands are already tugging at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. 

Your pulse races, breath hitching with anticipation, as he quickly strips off his sweatpants and briefs. He's hard, and your eyes widen as you take in the size of him. It’s the first time you’ve truly seen him like this, and you wonder how in the world it's going to fit.

There's only one way to find out.

As he climbs onto the bed, you start to lift your sweater, and his hands are there instantly, helping you tug it over your head. A soft moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds your neck, trailing kisses and gentle bites down the newly exposed skin, moving slowly down to your chest.

He pauses when his lips meet the edge of your bra, his hands firmly cupping your breasts. He looks up and asks, "Can I unwrap my present now?"

"God, yes," You say breathlessly, even as your cheeks burn hotter.

You expect him to reach for the clasp of your bra, and are surprised when he moves past it and kisses a path down your stomach.

"Xav—" You barely get a chance to ask him what he's doing before he slides his hand beneath you, easily lifting your hips as he hooks his fingers in the lace of your panties and slides them down your thighs.

Once your panties have been tossed onto the floor, he grasps your thighs and spreads them apart. He lets his breath ghost over your clit, and an impatient whimper leaves your mouth. 

You want to squirm and chase the sensation, but his strong hands on your hips hold you firmly in place. You moan as you feel his tongue lick a strip along your slit before circling your clit. 

It’s somehow even better than the first time—something you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are. 

The tension coiling in your body leaves you breathless, panting, and when he slides two fingers into your pussy, a gasp escapes you. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close as your thighs start to tremble.

The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy are enough to drive you insane, and the thought of him stopping is nearly unthinkable. But you had a plan - you want more than this. You need more than just this from him.

"Xav, please," You beg, tugging at his hair to get him to look at you. "I need you."

His fingers pause inside of you as he meets your desperate eyes, and the loss of his tongue on your clit makes you feel even more needy, shredding the last bits of self-consciousness you have been holding on to.

"I want to feel you. Inside of me. Please."

Even with his face between your thighs and his lips shining with your wetness, his cheeks still manage to flush at your words, a soft pink dusting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. 

You bite your lip, mentally preparing for rejection, as you watch the silent struggle play out in his eyes. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you wish you could read his mind; understand whatever it is that is holding him back.

"If you don’t want to..." Your words come out halting, uncertainty and self-consciousness creeping back in. "We can wait."

His brows furrow as he shakes his head, shifting closer to cover your body with his. He cups your face in his hand, his voice low and soft. "You think I don't want to?"

The way his voice drops and the intensity in his eyes make it clear that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

He settles his weight on top of you, his cock brushing against your slick pussy, his desire unmistakable.

You gasp softly as you feel him slide against you, so close to where you need to be filled. Unable to stop yourself, you buck your hips, trying to feel more of him. 

He moans at the slick friction, pressing his forehead to yours as he thrusts against you, his cock grazing your clit with each movement.

It’s hard to focus, and the question slips from your lips before you can stop it, awkward and overly honest. "You want to wait until marriage?"

Surprise twists his expression as he pulls back to meet your eyes, and his lips curve into an amused smile.

"I don’t want to wait," he says, shaking his head before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "And...we’re already married, Mrs. Shen."

His words draw a whimper from your throat, surprised at how good it sounds for him to call you that while you're panting and desperate underneath him.

He shifts, positioning his body between your parted thighs. He fists his cock, rubbing the tip along the wet folds of your pussy until he brushes against your entrance. 

His eyes find yours, his breath coming in shallow pants. "Are you sure?"

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the heat between your legs builds. You're aching for this connection; you are so, so very sure.

"Please, Xav," You whimper, spreading your legs wider. "I want you so badly."

He groans, his hand tightening on your hip as he uses the other one to guide his cock. His breath hitches and his brow furrows with concern as his warm, blue eyes meet yours. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

He remains still, waiting for you to nod your agreement. 

When it comes, he moves slowly, gently easing his cock inside you.

The sensation is intense as he stretches you in ways you haven't experienced before. A gasp escapes your lips, a mix of surprise and pleasure, as you adjust to this overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

His cock is larger than his slender fingers, and the difference makes for a deliciously tight fit.

Xavier slides just halfway inside you before he leans forward and covers your body with his. His weight feels protective and warm as he drops his forehead to your shoulder and releases a shuddering breath.

Then he lifts his head and cups your cheek in his hand, his expression full of affection and awe.

"You feel amazing," he says. "Is this okay?"

"It’s so good," you whisper breathily.

 Your hands slide down his back, fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles before settling on his hips. You give a gentle, urging pull. "Please."

Slowly, he pulls out of you, and then gently thrusts forward. A groan slips out of him, and he fists the sheet beside of your head in an effort to maintain control.

You let out a series of small moans and gasps as he builds a very gentle, slow rhythm; pulling out just slightly before sinking back in a few inches. It feels exquisite, and you're savoring every sensation. 

But your body is craving more—much more.

"Xavier," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair. When his eyes flicker open, you continue, "Harder. I want to feel all of you."

Your words must snap the last threads of his restraint because he groans and sinks all of the way inside you before pulling out and thrusting back in hard.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips as pleasure and pain collide, creating a feeling better than you thought could exist.

He freezes at the sound of your gasp, his body trembling against yours as his eyes search your face. "Did I hurt you?"

Words are gone, lost to you in the rush of sensation. No longer needing gentleness or hesitation, you grip his hips tighter, urging him forward as your own hips rise to meet his.

A mix of confusion and desire flickers across his face as he catches his breath. But he gives in to your urging hands, pulling nearly all of the way out before thrusting his hips forward to meet yours again.

"You like that?" he asks questioningly, his voice rough with need.

You arch your back at the sensation and wrap your legs around him, urging him closer.

"You do like that," he says in a tone that borders on amazement. He stares down at you like he's never experienced anything so wonderful before.

"Yes," you gasp, the word barely leaving your lips before you pull him into a desperate kiss.

His thrusts gain more confidence, building a rhythm of faster, harder movements.

Pleasure builds within you, and you’re struck by how perfectly everything fits, as if you were always meant to be this way—completely, undeniably his.

"Feels so good being inside you," Xavier pants, his breath hot against your skin as he trails biting, sucking kisses along your neck. "I never want to stop."

"God, don't stop."

He marvels at you as you writhe beneath him. You clutch him tight, forcing each one of his strokes to go deeper as your pussy clenches around him.

You can feel the pleasure building and building...

"Tell me you need this," he says roughly. 

His hand cups your face, tilting your chin until your eyes meet his. "Tell me you want me to come inside you."

Your pussy practically convulses at the growl of his words, and your brain nearly stops functioning. He's not blushing or shy, and the look in his eyes is possessive and demanding.

You don't even have to think about your answer. "I need you. I want you to come inside of me."

Xavier's strokes deepen until he's slamming himself all of the way home with each thrust, and within moments you cry out as your orgasm pulses through you. Your back arches and you cling to him tightly as pleasure seizes you.

You feel his cock thicken, and with a deep groan, he comes inside of you.

The sensation is unique; you didn’t think you’d be able to feel it. But you can feel his warmth spreading inside of you and filling you up.

He stares down at you, panting, as his strokes gradually slow and you loosen your grip around him.

"That was..." He trails off as he collapses on top of you.

You stroke his hair as your breathing finally begins to slow.

"I love you," he mumbles against your shoulder, and then kisses it.

"I love you, too."

After a moment, he slowly withdraws and shifts onto his side, gathering you into his strong arms. His lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You snuggle close to him, feeling satisfied, warm, and blissfully drowsy.

He traces a finger gently along the curve of your cheek, his gaze filled with unmistakable tenderness as he takes in the sight of you.

"What did you wish for? Earlier?"

It takes you a moment to remember, and you hide your face against his chest when you do. It's a silly wish; not one that you want to say out loud.

"Tell me," he says softly, stroking his fingers through your hair.

There’s no reason not to tell him, other than the fact that it’s an impossibly big wish. Too big and too hard to fulfill for the short amount of time you have been together.

But he wants to know, and there’s no use in hiding it. 

You blush as you look up at him. "I wish this could all be real. The marriage. Living together. You know...all of it."

He looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment, and then nods slowly.

He holds out his hand palm up. A small, glowing ball of light appears there and shimmers softly. He raises his hand to his lips and blows gently.

You watch as the light floats toward the ceiling and disappears in a small sparkle.

Xavier looks at you and smiles. "This shooting star has made a promise to you."

[fairlyang]

been having thoughts of this concept for weeks and i loveeee this series so i just had to spitball something for fun. happy halloween🎃

w/c: 777

tags: blood, murder, cruel violence, wade being wade, silly, death, more murder, revenge, helping, then a lil horny, just some headcanons really

purge night with wade would include:

taking down every singular person that has spoken bad about you, or done you wrong in any way, shape or form

sure wade could’ve done that anyway since he’s a merc but breaking in after that alarm comes on was the fun part

depending on how awful they were to you would depend on their punishment from wade

like your creepy and annoying ass boss just got a warning by wade barely grazing his chest with his katanas, marking a big x

the one who had it the worst was your god awful satan’s spawn asswipe of an ex

wade would have a blast with him

“oh you thought you’d slip by this day just because you bought an expensive security system to protect yourself? well it’s not your lucky day baby boy…”

he’d make sure that piece of shit could feel absolutely everything that he did to him

ending it off by putting a grenade in his mouth and wishing him luck while skipping away

—

he’d def be wearing wearing all kinds of masks just because he could

spider-man? the first one he got. winnie the pooh? fuck yes. darth vader? abso-fucking-lutely. he’d even add his own impression and make you dress up as padmé

—

he’d blast every wham! banger as loud as possible while driving around being a menace

maybe he’d pretend to be dead in a street or alleyway to bait people out and about because who the fuck is out on purge night besides pyschpaths?

“hey hey! oh you’re out purging huh? yeah i’m sure… stay safe out there! there’s loads of crazies out here.”

—

or drive out to hot spots of shoot outs to “help out” one team but really just making jokes and annoying both groups that they all turn to shoot him

which of course doesn’t do them any good when he just regenerates in front of their eyes

—

or he’d be an absolute sweetie and break in to those playing where rich white people auction to kill off poor minorities and just absolutely ambushes those sick fucks

luckily if they shoot him, he’s perfectly fine after a few seconds and shoots up like a zombie frightening them all

he’d def make sure that all those rich fucks never have the nerve to do that stupid shit again or else

“you think of doing this ever again baldie and i’ll make sure you live the rest of your life afraid to do be in a room alone because i will be there to fuck your shit up and not in the good way!”

—

or maybe someone killed you and he vows to kill the mother fucker who took his whole world away from him

he’d have a very clever and thought out plan, and best of all, no collosus to stop him this time

he’d have every fucking gun, sword, and grenade he owns in his car as soon as the siren goes off and get there as fast as possible

they wouldn’t be let off the hook at any point and he had a shit ton of back up plans in case he lost them

“didn’t you hear John Kramer is back in, you son of a bitch!! this house is your fucking trap dipshit.”

—

public sex

sure you’d be doing that anyway because wade truly didn’t give a fuck if you were caught but doing it on this day meant no tickets

and doing it anywhere

he first took you to the mall, just wanting to fuck you in the food court where your moans would echo loudly

it was way better than he thought

just taking you in multiple positions on a table before quickly scrambling to put his clothes back on to go to the next location

a rooftop

he’d have you only holding onto the edge of the roof while fucking you in doggy

“god what a fucking view.”

“oh yeah your ass looks good from back here too.”

his crazy ass would ask you to ride him while on the very edge which just had you explaining that you weren’t invincible and would just splat on the floor if you fell

“that just means you need to practice more as a cowgirl…”

after that failed he fucked you on the hood of his car, covering your body just in case anyone would pull a fast one

but no one did, only a group of guys passed by cheering you on saying “fuck the government!”

finishing it off by fucking in every room of your apartment but really truly ending it by fucking in front of the window like true exhibionists, the way god intended

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.2k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ unprotected sex ﾉ tit + nipple play ﾉ a hint of dacryphilia ﾉ brief handjob ﾉ mentions of cheating (neither yuta nor reader) ﾉ yuta is a little obsessive

note: eeee it's yuta's birthday ! ! i wrote this fairly quickly to post in time so pls forgive any mistakes :3 enjoy + wish the pretty boy a happy bday ‪‪❤︎‬

yuta has imagined your first time at his place on more occasions than he can recall and none of them could have prepared him for the reality of your first visit—sitting on his couch with your knees hugged to your chest, quiet sniffles filling the air as warm tears stream down your cheeks. it’s a bit awkward, partly because of your crying but mostly because yuta doesn’t mind it. he’s sure that a majority of men wouldn’t see this as attractive or opportunistic but, as he pulls a tissue from the box to offer you, yuta can’t help but think that this moment is perfect.

“i can’t believe he’d cheat on me.” you accept the tissue from yuta, dabbing the corners of your watery eyes. you crumple the kleenex in your hand but the action seems a bit premature as a new set of tears glaze over your eyes. a couple of them spill past your lashes when you turn to face yuta. he swallows the lump in his throat that comes with being the subject of your tearful gaze. it must be wrong to find you so pretty when you’re clearly upset. “do you think it was me? could i have done something to push him away?”

yuta’s head is shaking in denial as soon as the question falls from your lips. he can’t believe that you’d ever think that. what could you have possibly done to push him into another woman’s arms? if you were to ask him, he’d tell you that your ex was the dumbest man on planet earth for leaving you—and for someone else, at that. though, he’d also have to thank your idiotic ex for letting you go. he never deserved you to begin with and his absence was the opening that yuta often found himself praying for.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” yuta tries to reassure you with a soft smile. he wills his hand to stop shaking as it comes up to wipe your tears away. the palm of his hand is warm against your face, the pad of his thumb rough but comforting as it brushes your cheek. the contact makes your eyes widen and lips part—you’ve been friends with yuta for a while now but he’s never touched you like this. it’s tender and you like it. to your dismay, he only lets his fingers linger a second longer before bashfully pulling away, choosing to clumsily scratch at his neck instead.

“i’m sure that you were a perfect girlfriend,” yuta tells you, and then he thinks better of his words. “not that him cheating on you would have been excusable if you weren’t!” he raises his hands and waves them in dismissal. if yuta were lucky enough to call himself your boyfriend, no number of little mistakes or miscommunications would run him away. he’d be by your side for the long haul. he’d never want to let you go.

“i just mean…” he looks up to the ceiling as he gathers the hectic thoughts bouncing around in his head into a coherent sentence. “nothing you did drove him to that.”

with a sigh, yuta closes his eyes and shakes his head subtly. his nerves are starting to get to him and he doesn’t want some stupid jitters to be what ruins this chance for him. you’re finally within his reach, just an arm’s length away, his for the taking.

he’s gotta pull himself together.

when the man tilts his head down and opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of you. it shouldn’t make him jump, but your body is turned to face him and you’re closer than you had been before. he can feel his heart thump against his chest at the proximity but he supposes it’s a good sign. his words didn’t rub you the wrong way like he thought they might have—he’s still got a chance.

your knees are tucked beneath you now, hands resting on your thighs. your fingers nervously tap at your leg as you hold yuta’s gaze. you couldn’t be exactly sure why yuta was the first one you called upon finding out that your relationship had all but crumbled. maybe it had to do with the fact that he always seemed to want to help or maybe it was simply the fact that he was always around. regardless of the reasoning, the overwhelming sadness you had felt when you arrived is beginning to dissipate, replaced by new feelings that you’re sure you shouldn’t be acting on. 

but that fleeting thought doesn’t stop you from asking, “you really think so?”

he nods, never taking his eyes off yours. “i do—”

his words jumble as you lean forward to press your lips against his. you can feel him gasp a bit but he doesn’t pull away. his lips are warm and softer than you thought they’d be. it’s a sloppy kiss, uncoordinated and messy with spit, though, that fact doesn’t stop either of you from deepening it—from chasing more.

your leg swings over his thighs so that you’re straddling him, hands coming up to cup his jaw as you run your tongue along his lower lip. your chest and yuta’s rise and fall with heavy breaths between the two of you. the air surrounding you is thick and charged and you want nothing more than to feed off of it. “is this okay?” 

“yeah, but…” he doesn’t want to come off as too eager, although, he’s sure you’re having no trouble telling with the way you’re grinding on the growing tent in his jeans. he hopes he doesn’t regret asking, “are you sure?”

“i just—i need to get my mind off of him. i need a distraction,” you tell yuta, rolling your hips against his. your hands drop from his face in favor of making their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark, inky strands as you stare into the depths of his widened eyes. “can you be that for me?”

a strangled moan—one that yuta desperately tries, and fails, to hold back—sounds in the quiet air of his living room. nothing would make him happier than to be yours to use. the hands that had once been stiffly resting at his sides come up to make a home on your waist. “god, yes, i can.”

his confirmation is all you need to dip your head down and capture his lips in yet another kiss. yuta doesn’t attempt to swallow down his moans and you don’t either—not that it would be possible upon feeling his bulge rhythmically nudge your panty-clad clit. the contact makes your skin prickle with goosebumps and contributes to the growing wetness between your legs.

impatience overcomes you as your mind races with thoughts of what yuta feels like without all the fabric barriers. you reach down between your bodies to fumble with the buckle of his belt, lips still occupied with his. with your attention divided, it takes you a couple of botched attempts before you’re finally able to loosen his belt, undo his button, and pull down his zipper. 

the sequence of actions reveals his black underwear and brings you one step closer to seeing him in his entirety. yuta’s breath hitches in his throat as you palm his cock and you take that as an opportunity to break away from the kiss, turning your full focus to the member between his legs. 

your fingers slip under the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull the cotton down, releasing his erection. it slaps against his t-shirt and the cool air must bite against his head because you can hear him hiss at the new position.

your hand hesitantly hovers, eyes locking onto his in a silent plea for permission to touch him. he catches on quickly, hurriedly nodding. he’s imagined this countless times, too—how your fingers would feel wrapped around his cock. and yuta thinks he’s been patient enough until now. 

when you finally take him in your hand, he’s warm and heavy in your grasp. the precum beading at his slit is plentiful. you let your thumb run over the opening, spreading the pre over his head and down his shaft, slowly stroking his length. he’s painfully hard, so much so that yuta tosses his head back to rest on the couch cushion.

he fidgets with the hem of your shirt that hugs your midsection in an effort to keep himself grounded. at this rate, he’s going to come all over your hand. he needs something to busy his mind with to keep that much from happening. “can i—” he swallows thickly before tipping his chin down to look you in the eye, “can i take off your shirt?”

you hum, raising your arms over your head so that he can pull your tee off. your absence between his legs doesn’t go unnoticed as he tugs the shirt off your torso. the fabric falls from the light grip of his fingers when he realizes that you aren’t wearing a bra. his cheeks grow impossibly warmer upon being met with the sight of your bare chest, though, instead of giving in to embarrassment, yuta’s hands come up to massage your tits.

as good as it feels to have his hands all over you, you’re aching for something more. so, while you have no intention of stopping him, you reach under your skirt to pull your panties to the side. both sets of your eyes are glued to the space between you, the space that lessens with each inch you take as you slowly sink down onto his cock. the stretch makes your lips part and your head loll as you adjust to his size. 

“shit,” yuta swears under his breath, his thumbs sweeping over your hardened nipples. he can’t believe he’s buried in you, being swallowed by your warmth. he didn’t know it was possible to feel this way—like he’s walking on clouds. his next words come out quiet and breathy, so low that you can barely hear them. “you feel so good.”

a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips at his whispered statement. you’d tell him the same if you weren’t more concerned with chasing your high. as your hands come to rest on his shoulders, you lift yourself up and down, setting a relaxed rhythm that’s just enough to attain the pleasure you’re after.

it’s mesmerizing, yuta thinks, the way your breasts bounce as you ride him. he licks his lips hungrily before latching onto one of your nipples. his tongue swirls against the peak while lithe fingers pinch at and roll the other between his rough pads. the moans that push past his lips and vibrate against your skin as he sucks at your tits fuel the fire of arousal in your abdomen. 

you dig your nails into his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt bunching together in your grasp with your tightened grip. between his touch, his mouth, and the way his cock head keeps bumping your g-spot, you’re not sure that you want to—or can—draw this out for any longer.

your pace quickens as your climax approaches and the rhythm you took care setting earlier has all but disappeared as your hips knock into yuta’s. your hastened tempo makes his cock twitch. that feeling of tightness in his muscles returns, the one that warns him of his impending orgasm. while he wouldn’t be ashamed to come before you, he thinks it would be more romantic if you do it together.

with his lip pulled between his teeth, yuta’s hand sneaks down to rub your clit. the unexpected touch makes you gasp in surprise. his fingers must be magic or the closest thing to it because a few simple circles are all it takes to snap the tension that had been building up in your tummy.

yuta’s name is sweet on your lips as you cry out for him. your walls spasm around his cock as your orgasm washes over you, nails biting into his shoulder blades in an attempt to ground yourself. 

yuta is sure that his desire to come inside of you is unmatched, though, he isn’t sure now is an appropriate time to do so. so, he ignores the devilish thoughts begging him—urging him—to paint your insides white. he pulls out and lets his cum spurt on his sweaty shirt with a shaky groan.

beyond your shared heavy breaths, yuta’s apartment is silent. it gives you both a moment to think about what just happened, but the thoughts on your minds starkly contrast.

you’re starting to feel the weight of your actions and you’re almost positive that the regret will be in full effect once you’ve slept on it for a night. it’s not typical of you to take on rebounds and certainly not ones that run in your everyday circle. you’ll be lucky if yuta is willing to forget that any of this happened.

unlike you, yuta feels absolutely and positively weightless. you’ve successfully put every fantasy he could dream up with you to shame. if it was this good the first time, he can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when he actually gets to fuck you—when he’s able to call you his.

thanks for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, pls consider reblogging or commenting :3

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Fantasize (Cypher x F!Reader) Part 3

Summary: Part 3 to Fantasize. Read part 1 here and part 2 here!

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7,042

Warnings: vaginal fingering, p in v sex, blow jobs

Notes: Sorry for the long wait, guys! Here's 7,000 words of Cypher love to make up for it ;)

You’re exciting, boy come find me

Your eyes told me, “Girl, come ride me”

Fuck that feeling both us fighting

Could he try me? Mm, most likely

~~~

Something was off with Cypher.

The last few weeks, he hadn’t seemed quite like himself, but the past few days, it had become even more apparent. He was less present. Less focused. Quieter. He’d always been quiet —but this was a different kind of quiet. The distracted kind; the kind that told you his mind was somewhere else, far away from here.

On missions, he’d hardly been cracking jokes like usual, and only spoke to you to give orders. The rest of the time, he spoke to you even less, and scarcely stuck around for team activities. No doubt, something was troubling him; he seemed more on edge than you’d ever seen him. A couple times, you’d approached him to ask him a question, and he reacted almost as if you’d spooked him. And both times, he’d been quick to leave after giving you the answers you sought.

You weren’t stupid; you knew he was avoiding you. But… why?

In the back of your mind, you’d worried that he’d seen something that night—the night you’d touched yourself to him. If anyone were to find out about it, Cypher—the man with thousands of eyes—would be the first. You’d known it was a possibility even in the heat of the moment, and yet, you’d believed he didn’t know. Because if he did know, surely he wouldn’t act like this.

Cypher never let anything get to him. Ever. He wasn’t emotional. He never let the information he gathered interfere with his work, or his relationships. That was why he was so good at what he did.

Still, though, it worried you. Had you done something to offend him? Annoy him? Or was there something else on his mind that had nothing to do with you, and you were simply always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Whatever the case, you couldn’t let this go on any longer. Your feelings for him aside, you didn’t want things to continue this way. He was more than just your teammate; he was your friend, wasn’t he? What could be bothering him so much that he couldn’t talk or joke with you like he always did? You wanted to understand, and help if you could.

At the end of the day, as training sessions wrapped up, you searched for Cypher in the common room. When you didn’t find him there, you went out into the hall, heading for the dorms. If he was in his room, there was a low chance you could get him out to talk, but you had to try.

Then, just as you rounded the corner, you ran into him.

Cypher made a sound of surprise when you smacked into him, and you pulled back abruptly, mortified. “Oh, shit!” you exclaimed. “Sorry, sorry.”

The pale blue eyes of his mask blinked at you, and for a second you feared you’d angered him. But unexpectedly, he chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said. “I was…” He glanced away briefly. “I was actually looking for you.”

Your heart jolted so violently you thought it might burst. What? He had been looking for you? “You—you were?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said, still not quite looking at you directly. “I was, well… hoping we could… talk. If you are not busy.”

You were shaking your head before you could even answer him. “No, I’m not busy,” you assured him. “I was—I was actually looking for you just now.”

His eyes seemed to widen. “I… I see. That is…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat again. “Well, er… we should… go somewhere private. I… cannot show you my room, but I know somewhere else that will—”

“We can go to my room,” you said before he could finish. It had been your original plan to speak with him there, if you had succeeded in catching him at the right time, but your heart was pounding now that the words had left your mouth.

Cypher hesitated. “Are… are you sure? I wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” you promised. You managed a smile, despite how nervous you’d become. “It’s fine, really. Should we, um—go right now?”

“Yes, if you’re sure it’s alright,” he answered slowly.

“It is,” you said earnestly. “This way.”

You led Cypher down the hall to your room, miraculously making it there without your legs giving out from sheer anxiety. Once you were both inside, you closed the door behind you.

The two of you stood in silence for just a moment, and you wondered if he was just as afraid to make the first move as you. Finally, you asked him, “Do you, um—want some water?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, moving to lean against one wall.

Looking around the room, you tried not to panic. What had you been thinking? There was practically nowhere for him to sit apart from the chair by your desk and… your bed. Shit, you were so stupid. Things were already awkward between you two, and you’d only made it worse.

Still, you had to ask. “Do you want to sit down?” you asked, gesturing to your desk chair. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to stand,” he returned, sounding oddly grave all of a sudden. “But please, feel free to sit. Do not stand on my account.”

You couldn’t help but be worried by his change in tone. “Well, what exactly are we talking about?” you asked, laughing in spite of—or maybe because of—your apprehension. “Is it something I should sit down for?”

He didn’t laugh, and that made you worry even more. Instinctively, you moved towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge of it, and looked over at him. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the floor. What was going on? Why couldn’t he look at you?

“Cypher?” you said softly. “What is it?”

He lifted his head ever so slightly, then let out a sigh. “I… must be honest with you about something,” he murmured.

You were silent, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your ears.

When he spoke again, you could hear the effort it was taking him to go on. “You know that I see everything,” he continued. “That I have… cameras everywhere. Well…” He swallowed. “I have cameras… in here, as well.”

You froze, and immediately, devastatingly, you knew where this was going.

“I can’t tell you where they are, or why they are here, but—” Cypher turned his head, the brim of his hat covering much of his face. “One night, a few weeks ago, I—”

“You saw me,” you finished for him.

He looked up at you, and even with his mask on, you could tell he was stunned. After a short pause, he nodded. “I… saw you,” he echoed. “And I… heard you.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling as though the room was spinning around you. He knew. He’d known for weeks. Of course he had.

He’d heard you say his name—his codename and his real name. Your throat tightened with realization.

He’d heard you say you loved him.

The words were tumbling out of you before you could stop them. “I’m so sorry.”

A heartbeat passed, then Cypher spoke, his voice startlingly soft. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, bewildered.

You shook your head, unable to look at him. “I just—I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—fuck, I’m just—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

You were sorry, but for what, you didn’t know. Sorry for yourself? Sorry you hadn’t kept your secret better? Sorry you hadn’t told him?

Sorry you were in love with him at all?

Cypher was quiet for a long moment. You willed yourself not to cry, thinking desperately of what you could possibly say to rectify this situation, but then he said, “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

You raised your head at that. Tentatively, you found the strength to look at him again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that…” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Well, I mean that… there is no need to apologize. You’ve done… nothing wrong.”

You studied him, wishing more than ever that you could read his expression, understand how he was feeling. What was he trying to say? “You’re not… upset?” you asked, disbelieving.

“No.” He shifted against the wall, eyes still on the floor. “No, I… I’m not upset.”

You believed he was telling the truth, but you could see the discomfort in his stance. He might not be upset with you, but there was still something he wasn’t articulating.

Your throat was so dry; you wished you’d gotten yourself some water before sitting down. “Then… why have you been avoiding me?”

Cypher sighed. “I am… sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—what I mean to say is… avoiding you was… not my intention.”

Something told you he was lying.

“Cypher,” you said, “I—I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I didn’t want to complicate things like this, I just—” It pained you to say it, but you did anyway. You’d do anything to make this right. “It’s nothing, okay? It’s just a little crush. It’ll—it’ll go away.”

Cypher turned his head, meeting your eyes with those ice-cold blue orbs. “You… said my name,” he murmured. “That night.”

You faltered, unable to look away. “I-I—yeah, I did,” you stuttered. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Why did you?” he asked. There was no anger, no accusation behind the question. Only a desire to understand.

You tore your eyes away, occupying yourself with your hands in your lap. “I-I—I just—” You knew your voice was quivering, but you could do little to steady it. “In the moment, I guess I—I don’t know. I wanted to know the real you.”

Cypher did not answer right away. You wished you knew what he was thinking. “You said you… loved me,” he said, in that same soft tone.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “I know,” you whispered, your face burning. “I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

“You… didn’t?”

The softness in his voice took you completely aback. You looked up at him, blinking away the tears that were seconds from gathering. “What?” was all you could say.

“You didn’t mean it?” he asked. “When you… said you loved me.”

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he asking you this? You’d already told him it meant nothing. Unless… he didn’t believe you.

But… why would that matter to him? What did he care whether you loved him or not? Was this just more information he intended to keep for himself, to store away for later?

You shut your eyes, forcing back the tears once more. You could easily lie. You could say it had been nothing. You could say you didn’t know how you really felt, and that would be true, at least partially. You still didn’t understand all this, but you had to give him an answer. There was no way out of this.

And you weren’t a very good liar.

Looking down, you nodded. “I did mean it,” you said. “I meant it in the moment, and… I mean it now.”

Cypher was silent.

“It’s true I have feelings for you,” you went on, needing to get everything out before he said anything back. “I do, but… I care about this job. I care about the agency. And I respect you too much to let this change things.” You wrung your hands together. “I won’t let this get in the way. I’ll—I’ll keep working hard, and if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I—I understand. I just want to do my job. I don’t… I don’t want things to be different. I just want things to go back to normal. Please. ”

You felt the heat of his gaze on you as you waited for him to respond. He said he wasn’t angry, he said you’d done nothing wrong, but why was he so fucking quiet? What was going on in his head? You wished he would just tell you.

Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and suddenly, his shadow entered your field of vision. You looked up ever so slightly, and saw that Cypher had moved from his spot nearby; he was standing in front of you now, just a few feet away.

Slowly, he took off his hat, holding it to his chest. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “I have feelings for you, too.”

It was as if every one of your nerves had been shocked back to life. You stared at him. “You—you do?” you uttered.

“Yes.” He gripped his hat a little tighter. “That night, I… I didn’t mean to see you. I watch everyone, as you know, but… I don’t—I don’t watch them like that. I’m not that kind of man.”

You believed him.

“I saw you, and I heard you say my name, and I…” Every word seemed difficult for him to get out, as though he were frightened to be so vulnerable with you. “I couldn’t… stop thinking about you. For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was… interfering with my work. I couldn’t focus.”

That much had been obvious. And, if you were being honest, you’d been off your game, too.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” Cypher continued. “I am… never like this. This is not familiar to me. Or at least it… hasn’t been for a long time.” He swallowed. “I realized that… you’ve affected me. I have not been the same since that night. I have feelings for you, and… I thought it best to tell you.”

You were lost for words, mind reeling with the weight of his confession. Cypher had feelings for you. Real feelings. You’d… affected him, without even meaning to. Your heart, confused though it was, had begun to beat madly.

All this time, he’d felt the same way.

You wanted to stand, to meet him at his level, but you were in such a state of shock, you feared you would pass out if you did. “What does this mean?” you asked him, your voice small.

Cypher fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “I… don’t know,” he confessed. “Not yet. All I knew was that I needed to tell you… for both our sakes. But…” He took the smallest step closer to you. “You know that… because of this, and because we are both agents here, nothing will be the same.”

You nodded, knowing it to be true.

“You know that I… can never tell you everything,” he said ruefully. “I can’t tell you about my past. And I can never let you see my face, as much as I may want you to.”

Your heart twisted. “I know.”

Cypher took another step, stopping right at your feet. The tips of his shoes were nearly brushing yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. When he looked down at you, you could almost see the sorrow in his eyes under the mask. “I’m sorry for all of this. For not telling you until now.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I… haven’t done this in so long. I’ve almost forgotten what to do.” He laughed, though there was sadness in the sound. “I would… understand if this is too difficult.”

You peered up at him, still not understanding. “Do you… want to be with me?”

“I…” He had started to fray the edges of his hat. “I, well… I wish to be something with you,” he answered. “I… am not sure what exactly, yet. This is still new to me, and… I don’t understand all of it.” He shuffled his feet. “But… I can never be fully vulnerable with you. I may never be all you need me to be… because of who I am. What I’ve become.” A sigh escaped him. “I am truly sorry if this hurts you.”

Your arms reached out, seemingly moving of their own accord. Before you could think twice about it, you took the sides of his face in your hands. Though your touch no doubt surprised him, he did not pull away. “Cypher,” you whispered. “I… I don’t care.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t care,” you repeated. “I don’t… I don’t need to see your face. I would never make you show it to me.” You realized just how much you meant that. “I don’t need to know your past. I know something hurt you, something that forced you to hide yourself like this, and… that’s all I need to know.” You could feel a smile forming on your lips, slowly but surely. “I… mean that. I really do.”

He looked at you, his bewilderment evident even with his mask. “You… are really okay? With all of this?” he asked, full of disbelief.

You gave him a feverish nod. “Of course I am,” you said. “I fell for you as you are, didn’t I?” You laughed lightly.

“I…” His mask was warm. Was he blushing under there? “I’m… older, you know,” he mumbled. “I’m… out of practice. W-With—a lot of things. I haven’t been… well…”

You giggled. “That’s okay,” you reassured him. “We can—we can take things slow, okay? We’re still figuring this out.”

Cypher stared at you a moment longer, speechless as you held his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “You are… lovely,” he said. “You know that?”

You glanced away, your cheeks hot. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You know, I… I can’t believe you’re really here right now. Are we sure I’m not dreaming?” You chuckled nervously.

Cypher leaned into your touch, dropping lower so that he was eye-to-eye with you. “You’re not,” he said. “And I will prove it to you.”

Before you knew what was happening, he ducked gently out of your grasp, letting his hat drop to the floor. With one hand, he reached for his mask, then took it off.

Your breath caught in your throat. What was going on? Had he changed his mind? Had he decided to show you his face after all?

But under his mask, his face remained hidden. There was another black mask that covered his skull and features, skin-tight like spandex, with the blue orbs over his eyes attached. Cypher grasped the bottom of it, lifting it up just above his nose, and your heart thrummed fiercely in your ribcage. It wasn’t all of it, but it was his face; olive-skinned, angular, with a trimmed, dark beard and a scar on his lip.

His lip. His lips. His lips.

Cypher brought his gloved hand to your face, stroking your jaw. “May I kiss you?” he asked.

You didn’t even answer. You just kissed him.

Your first thought when your lips met his was that he was warm. There was so much warmth coming from him, gentle and encompassing like the sun, and though his beard was a bit rough, his lips were so soft. You melted into the kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. You needed more of him.

This wasn’t a fantasy. This was better than anything you could’ve conjured up.

Cypher matched your eagerness in kind, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. You felt his tongue at the seam of your lips, catching you by surprise, and you welcomed it inside your mouth, the softest of moans escaping you when it entered.

He pulled back for just a second, hand still in your hair. “Are you alright? Is—Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed before kissing him again.

You tugged at him, pulling him forward as the kiss deepened. You felt his chest on yours, his weight pressing down on you, and then you were falling back onto the bed, Cypher atop you as your mouths remained interlocked. Fiery warmth spread through you, rushing from your face down to your core. You held him closer, moaning when he sucked on your lower lip.

This wasn’t a dream; you were sure of it by now. But what was going to happen? How far did he want to take this?

“Cy—Cypher,” you managed to say against his lips. “Do you—do you want to—”

Cypher stiffened slightly, as if stirring from a trance. “I…” His breath was hot in your mouth. “I— yes. I want to, but—”

“But?” you said.

“I can’t be… naked,” he said breathlessly. “Not completely. I can’t—my body—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.” You kissed the side of his mouth. “Can you—take off some things?”

“Yes,” he answered. He jolted suddenly, like he’d just remembered something. “Wait, wait—do you—do you have condoms?”

You blushed. “Yeah, I-I should have some—somewhere. They should still be good.”

“Okay.” Cypher shook his head, reining himself back in. “I—I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would have prepared for—”

You shut him up with another searing kiss.

No more talking. Just show me what you can do.

Cypher grunted into the kiss, carding his fingers through your hair. Slowly, steadily, he began to move against you. “ Ghzâla, ” he whispered.

The word sent a shiver down your spine. “What does—that mean?” you asked between kisses.

“Lovely,” he rasped.

You shuddered. You felt his thigh rub between your legs, and your hips thrust up instinctively. You dug your nails into the back of his coat. “Please.”

Cypher broke away from your lips, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. “What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer him. “Yes.”

He kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Where?”

The two of you had only just started, and you were already falling apart. “Everywhere,” you whimpered.

His lips were at your collarbone. “Everywhere?”

Holy shit, was he teasing you? This was too much. “Yes, everywhere,” you responded, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt. “Please, just—just touch me.” You’d dreamed about this for so long; there was no more holding back.

Impatient, you reached for your shirt, yanking it out from where it had been tucked into your pants. Noticing at once, Cypher acted accordingly, taking the hem from you and hoisting it up. You lifted your arms, and he pulled it off swiftly, exposing your bra and bare upper body. He leaned back, sitting up on his knees as he looked you over hungrily. “Beautiful,” he said, breathless. “So beautiful.”

You moved to unzip your pants, but he was faster this time, pulling them down with palpable desperation. Once he’d gotten them off, leaving you in only your undergarments, he put his hand to your panties. His touch was featherlight, but the second you felt it, it was like one of Neon’s electric shocks. You bit your lip to keep from moaning.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, adding just a little more pressure.

You let out the tiniest of gasps. You were soaked already, and you were sure he could feel it. He was so close to where you needed him. “Yes. Please.”

He stroked the outside with two fingers, feeling the shape of you through the fabric. His lips were parted, as if he were awestruck by you. “So wet,” he uttered, half to himself.

Unable to help yourself, you bucked against his hand. “Cypher,” you begged. “ Please. ”

He looked at you once, and that was enough to get him to focus. He made quick work of his coat and belts, then tore the gloves off his hands, setting them aside before flexing his freed fingers. They were the same color as his face, and just as scarred, with nails trimmed impeccably.

Thank goodness.

Cypher took hold of your panties, tugging them gently down your hips. Without speaking, he brought two fingers to your entrance, gathering your slick to coat the tips. Then, in one gentle motion, he plunged one inside of you.

You threw your head back, moaning as he entered. Cypher parted your walls with painstaking care, and you did your best to relax for him, knowing your pussy was strangling his finger with everything it had. It’d been months since you’d last had sex, and though you pleasured yourself often, the feeling of someone else’s finger inside you still came as a shock. You could feel every inch of it; the ridges, the callouses, the knuckle pressing up against the outside of you.

It was so good.

“Cypher,” you whined, feeling cockdrunk even at the small penetration. “Please.”

He was watching you intently, maintaining a steady pace with his finger. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No.” He curled it inside you, and you gasped. “No, don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He sat back on the edge of the bed, studying you like a man entranced. He did not slow down.

He pumped deeper, hitting your g-spot, and you moaned louder, urging him to keep going. You were gone already, lost in the sensation. The dorms could be on fire outside this room, and still you wouldn’t care. Cypher was alone with you, touching you, and it was everything you wanted and more.

“N-Need you,” you blurted out. “I need you. Please.”

Cypher tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “What do you need, dear?”

The sweetness in his voice was killing you. “You,” you pleaded. “ You. I—” You were cut off by your own moan when his thumb brushed your clit. “Please. Please, can we—”

“You want to?” He leaned over you. “Already?”

“ Yes. ” You hardly recognized your own voice, so heavy with need.

“Yes, we can, but—are you ready?” he asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes, please,” you babbled. “Please, I just—I need you.” Under normal circumstances, you would be more embarrassed with yourself, but right now, you were too flustered, too hot with desire to care.

“Okay.” Cypher nodded, understanding, and carefully withdrew his finger with a wet pop. You shivered as it left you, watching him get up from the bed and look around. “You—said there were condoms somewhere, yes?”

“Y-Yeah.” You forced yourself to focus, if only for a few seconds. “Check—check the drawer. Right there.”

You pointed to your night table, and he went to it, opening a drawer to search inside. As he rummaged, you sat up, removing your bra and panties faster than you’d ever done in the past. After a minute, Cypher turned, a wrapped condom in hand. When he saw you, his jaw dropped.

Actually dropped. For once, you could see his mouth, and know what was on his mind.

“Sweetheart,” he said, mystified, “you didn’t have to—I would have understood if—”

“Just shut up and get over here,” you ordered, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him forward.

Cypher collapsed onto the bed, head hitting the pillows as you climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you, mouth still open with awe. “You’re beautiful,” he marveled.

“So are you,” you replied before bending down to kiss him.

Cypher opened up for you eagerly, his tongue parting your lips with ease. “You—you don’t know that,” he breathed. “You’ve never seen my face. I could be ugly under here.”

You ground your body against him, nipping at his lower lip. “I know you’re not.”

He made a low sound in his throat, grabbing hold of your thighs. He kissed you hard, squeezing your soft flesh. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked when he finally broke free.

“ Yes, ” you answered firmly. You were naked on top of him, spreading slick all over his pants, and kissing him like you needed him to breathe. What more did you have to do to convince him?

You looked at him beneath you, face still half-covered by his mask. You could tell he wanted you; you could feel it in his lap. But as much as you craved him, you needed to be sure. “Do you want this?” you whispered.

Cypher gripped your thighs. “I-I do,” he said. “I do. I’ve wanted this for weeks. It’s just… been a long time.”

You understood. You wanted this so badly, wanted to jump right in, but you would go at his pace. “We can take this slow,” you promised. “I won’t take anything off of you. Not unless you want me to.”

He smiled, and your heart swelled. “Thank you, sokar. ”

You gave him a curious look. “What does that one mean?”

He grinned. “I will tell you later.” He reached for the condom, unwrapping it from its package, then met your eyes. “Will you help me? Please?”

“Oh. Y-Yeah. Yeah.” You shifted in his lap, moving aside so you could undo his belt. Once it was gone, you unzipped his pants to reveal his boxers underneath, feeling around gently until you found an unmistakable hard shape. Cypher made a soft noise when you touched it, and you looked up, fearing you’d done something wrong. But then he gave you a nod, encouraging you, and you got back to work.

Deftly, you freed his cock, bringing it out into the open, and abruptly sucked in a breath at the sight of it.

You’d been right. He was big.

It was long and thick, that same lovely tone as the rest of him, with dark hair trimmed short. “What did I tell you?” you said, dumbstruck. “You are beautiful.”

Cypher laughed. “You’re too sweet,” he remarked. “Pretty girl.”

Those words, spoken so affectionately, got you riled up in a way you’d never felt before. Remembering your task, you took the condom and brought it to the head of his cock, unrolling it all down the shaft. Cypher very nearly whimpered as you did so, and that made you all the more determined to get it done.

Once you’d covered him completely, you spread your legs, positioning yourself over his cock. “Do you want to start like this?” you asked him. “Or do you want to be on top?”

Cypher’s hands found their way back to your thighs, gripping them. “Like this,” he murmured. “Just go slow, dear. Please.”

Your heart fluttered, your whole body ablaze. This was really happening. You were about to have sex with him, and he was letting you take control.

You brought yourself lower, gasping when the head of his cock met your entrance. Taking a deep breath, you went even lower, then all at once, you were easing yourself onto him.

You moved slowly, walls splitting as you took him inside of you. It was a light sting at first, only the head of him penetrating you, then the further you went, the more you could feel yourself being opened, spread apart by his massive length. You were helpless not to moan as you went, the pain quickly replaced by mind-numbing, mouth-watering pleasure the deeper you took him. There was some resistance on the way, but at last, he bottomed out, and when you sat yourself fully in his lap, he moaned in tandem with you.

“Shit,” you gasped. “You’re so big.”

Cypher breathed out shakily, chest heaving as he adjusted to a sensation he likely hadn’t felt in years. His hands still grasped your thighs, his grip tightening after a heartbeat. “So tight,” he groaned. “Does it—does it hurt?”

“N-No,” you said, clenching around him without meaning to.

He winced, though not in pain. To your surprise, he rolled his hips up into you. “Please,” he uttered. “Please.”

His plea took your breath away. Knowing at once what he wanted, you began to move, sliding yourself up and down his length. You were so wet, it was effortless, even without the condom’s lubrication. You placed your hands on his chest, supporting yourself as you took him in and out, in and out. This couldn’t be real. Nothing this good could ever be real. “Cypher,” you moaned.

“That’s good,” he choked out. He thrust up into you, almost shyly, then he did it again, and again. Each time, you let out a whine, and that seemed to spur him on. “Good girl. Yes. ”

You moved faster, needing more of his praise, more of him. You were fucking him. He was fucking you. “S-So good,” was all you could get out.

He chuckled in between moans. “You’re so good, sokar, ” he cooed. “So—so pretty.”

There was that nickname again. You tightened around him, forcing a strangled noise from him. “Please,” you whimpered.

He tilted his head up. “What is it, dear?”

“Please, I—” You couldn’t put it to words. You couldn’t think right now—how could you? How could anyone? There was only pure, overpowering need. Driven by instinct alone, you leaned down and took his face in your hands, kissing him hard.

If your first kiss with him was a flame, this was an inferno. It was as though all your desire for him, all that lust and desperation that had built inside you for months had finally risen to the surface, taking control of you now. You claimed his mouth greedily, feverishly, and he kissed you with the same ferocity, digging bruises into your thighs. You nipped at him, clutching the sides of his face as you tasted him, his tongue colliding with yours. You wanted to devour him. You wanted to make him yours.

Cypher thrust into you harder and faster, holding your hips in place, making you mewl into the kiss. “ Please, ” you whined.

“You like that?” he panted. “Is this—what you imagined that night? When you touched yourself?”

You moaned, faltering with every thrust. “Yes,” you said feebly. You could barely remember your fantasy that night; it paled in comparison to this. “Yes, yes, I wanted this…”

You could almost see his eyes rolling back. “Sweet girl,” he groaned. “Why me?”

You hadn’t expected that question. “What? What do you— mm —mean?”

“Why me,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. “Why not Phoenix, or Sova, or— anyone in Valorant? Why me, sweetheart?”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. The answer itself was so simple, but… why was he asking this? Why now? “Because—because you’re you,” you responded, fighting to speak clearly. “Because you’re—you’re Cypher. You’re smart and—and kind and—” You cut yourself off with a shrill moan when he hit you just right. “You’re—you’re just—”

For several seconds, Cypher said nothing, processing your words. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed your face, forcing you to look straight at him. “Do you love me?” he asked, panting.

With your bodies so close like this, his hands on your face and his heart beating with yours, there was only one answer. “Yes,” you moaned out. “I-I do.”

He did not look away from you, not letting up on the rough pace he had set. “Say it,” he whispered. It wasn’t an order. It was a plea.

Cypher released you, pushing you back gently. You sat up straight in his lap, bouncing on his cock as he continued to thrust. You obeyed without question. “I love you.”

“Please,” he said.

“I love you,” you chanted. “I love you, I love you. ” You meant it, with every fiber of your being.

“Say my name,” he said, nearly begging. “ My name.”

“Amir,” you breathed. “I love you, Amir.”

Cypher made a sound so new, so vulnerable that you could hardly believe it came from him at all. It was soft, halfway between a moan and a whine. “ Sokar, ” he uttered.

You gripped the edges of his shirt. “Amir.”

He said your name. Your real name, not your codename.

Reaching down, you searched for your clit, circling it with two of your fingers. “Amir.”

He said your name again and again, like a prayer.

You rubbed your clit harder, the coil inside you so close to snapping. “I love you,” you gasped. “I’ve loved you for months. I love—I love everything about you. Amir. ”

“ Ghzâla, ” he said weakly. He sounded so frail, like a man about to break.

“I love it all,” you went on. You were babbling now, but you didn’t care. “I love—I love the way you look, the way you talk. I-I—I love your laugh, your—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Stop, please—I’m close.”

“Then cum for me,” you said without hesitation. Your body jerked at the pleasure from your clit, and you clenched around him with a gasp. “Cum for me, please. ”

Cypher breathed out harshly. “Stop,” he pleaded. “No more, please. I’m going to cum.”

You were so close, too, you could feel it. “Cum inside me,” you begged.

He bit his lip, and for a moment, he seemed to be considering it. He groaned, gritting his teeth, then shook his head wildly. “No—no, I can’t.”

You wanted to argue, to moan and beg until he popped like a cork inside you. You wanted it so badly. You wanted to be his, in a way no one was. Not Nora, or anybody else.

But you couldn’t. Not like this.

Without saying a word, you obeyed him, moving off of his lap just as he cried out, gasping for air as he came. His cock pulsed inside the condom, filling it to the brim with thick seed. You laid on your side, watching him as he grabbed the base of his cock and pumped it, groaning while he rode the wave of his orgasm—the likes of which he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

It took him a moment to come down from his high. When his body relaxed, no longer convulsing, Cypher sat up slowly and exhaled. He said nothing yet, still catching his breath, but when he turned and looked at you, he suddenly sprang into action.

He pinned you down before you had time to react, holding your arms above your head with one hand. You stared up at him, startled, only to moan sharply when you felt his fingers at your clit, rubbing it ardently. You tried to say something, to ask what he was doing, but you couldn’t form a single word. 

Cypher grinned down at you. “Your turn, lovely girl,” he purred. “Let yourself go.”

Holy shit, it was so good. “A-Amir,” you mewled. “Fuck, please —”

“Almost there, yes,” he coaxed, breathy with effort. “You did so well. Cum for me now.”

You were drowning. You were drowning in pleasure and it was all him, him, him. “P-Please—”

“Cum now,” he cooed into your ear. “Let me hear you.”

That command, spoken so softly, was all you needed. You wailed as you reached your peak, loud enough that someone outside could’ve heard you. Your pussy, still gushing from earlier, fluttered and clenched around nothing as you came, and Cypher’s fingers on your clit slowed to a soothing rhythm. “Good girl,” he murmured. “So good. I knew you could do it.”

You panted, collecting yourself as your heart calmed and your body went still on the bed. You pussy throbbed, and the sheets beneath you were soaked, but words could not describe how elated you were.

Cypher wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He’d just fucked you stupid, and made you cum.

The man himself looked down at you now, smiling. “Feeling okay?” he asked, moving a strand of hair from your forehead.

You gave him an “Are you serious?” look. “Better than okay,” you answered, smiling back. “I think I could walk on air right now, honestly.”

He chuckled. “So sweet,” he said. “That’s why I call you sokar. ”

“Are you going to tell me what that means already?” you asked humorously.

He smiled. “Sugar.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Cypher leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before sitting up and stretching. “I should get cleaned up,” he said, eyeing the stuffed condom. “It was… a lot. It has… been a while, as you know.”

You looked at the condom too—Jesus, it was a lot. Still woozy from your climax, your body warm all over, you had an idea all of a sudden. “Wait,” you said. “Let—let me.”

He turned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

You scooted closer to him, deciding to show rather than tell. Sliding off of the bed, you settled on your knees at his feet, taking your condom in your hands and gingerly rolling it up his cock. Cypher’s breath hitched when you pulled it off of him, but just before anything could drip from his shaft, you latched your mouth around his cock.

The moan that came out of him was better than you could’ve hoped. Clutching the base of his cock, you sucked up the remaining cum, licking and cleaning and swallowing. Cypher groaned as you worked, one hand coming down to grip your hair, and you did not stop until all of it was gone.

When you’d finished, you got to your feet, then disposed of the condom. Cypher was still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands on his thighs, flushed and panting like he’d just fucked you all over again. “You,” he said, his voice low. “I was—I was not expecting that.”

You giggled. Something about seeing him like this—so affected by you—was utterly amazing. You sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of you both. “Sorry for the surprise,” you said, only half-apologetically.

“N-No, I—” He cleared his throat. “No, that was, I—” He laughed, avoiding your eyes. “Please do that again sometime.”

You laughed too.

You knew it was partly the hormones, but you felt so different now. Lighter. Freer. So much had just happened, in such a short span of time. Everything had changed between you and Cypher—but you welcomed it with open arms.

You liked him, and he liked you. Neither of you had to hide it anymore.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Will you stay?” you asked. “Just a little bit longer?”

Cypher wrapped one arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. He was quiet for just a moment, then finally, he answered, “Yes. For a little while.”

Hope you guys enjoyed!