#and I don't get it. I just wish my parents - at least my mother can be like M.

[irenespring]

I am at this scene right now in my rewatch and it is DESTROYING ME like it always does.

Because one of Kerry's defining motivations is searching for family. Wanting to belong, to fit in somewhere, and to be loved. And she tries this in a number of ways, including trying to find her birth parents, her numerous failed attempts at entry into the ER found family unit, arguably her whole ambition that gets mistaken for pure Machiavellianism (that is a Much longer story).

Here she is literally trying to hire a father figure. She says she loves Lawrence like a father. In her mind this is the best thing ever to happen. She's still suffering from a completely self-caused social backlash (one of very few) in that deal she made with Romano, and here she can do what she always thought she could do but has never worked before and never will again: use her power to get people to love her! Her deal with the devil was worth it because now she can hire her dad! He can work with her! And now she isn't alone! She has someone in the building! Who cares about her!

And he says so. That is a huge deal. He tells everyone who will listen how great he thinks Kerry is and he tells her all the time he thinks she's amazing. He tells her fun little stories of their time working together. He compliments her intelligence and her leadership, and he respects her policies (even the goofy badge idea). Some of that is just to cover when he forgets things and needs her to focus on other stuff, but even then he means it. After years of constant mockery and constant rejection. Mockery and rejection from the people Lawrence is now praising her to. You can practically feel how elated she is to have him there through the screen. She has someone to talk to, someone who is always happy to see her. She really is just so happy. It's everything she ever wanted, going back to when she first hired that PI. She found a parent.

And then it crumbles. And she fucking grabs at the vanishing particles, the way she insists that no, it isn't possible, he isn't sick, he doesn't have to leave, please, don't make him, she needs him, please. Then, because the writers hate her and me and human decency, there's the knife twist that she has to fire him and he storms out on her. She is forced to wreck this relationship just like she has wrecked all her other ER relationships.

ER is supposed to be a found family. It hasn't been for Kerry, until Lawrence. Now she behaves exactly like the loved ones of patients who are going to die. Telling their clearly dying family members about miracle cures, telling them to hang on just a little longer. She can't let go. Because she was happy. More than that, she doesn't want to be alone again.

The suicide element, just as Kerry is working herself up about clinical trials and hope is a brilliant piece of writing. It is also fascinating given that Kerry is someone who is (or at least will be, I will probably write much more on this when I get to s8e1 because holy shit) periodically suicidal. Also the fact that the end of Lawrence's speech is "nobody coming to see me." This is also hell for Kerry. She understands this.

So the "I'll come and see you" is 1) True. When Kerry finds the woman she thinks is her mother in the nursing home, she cares for her arguably too well, beyond the woman's wishes. She sits by her bed. Talks to her. Spends every moment she can with her. Despite all evidence that woman: doesn't know where she is, who she is, doesn't know Kerry is there. Kerry will show up no matter what. 2) in Kerry's mind, enough. One person made all the difference for her these past couple episodes. Just to have one person there is a game changer.

There's something horribly ominous in the way the last scene of the episode isn't this scene but Jeanie packing up. I think it's supposed to be ending on a happier note, but it drives home that Kerry also lost HER ONE OTHER REAL FRIEND THIS EPISODE. She is now very isolated. She'll be pretty much alone facing the paradigm shift of season 7 (for the aftereffects of that, see my comment on s8e1).

In conclusion: The show loves to torture Kerry Weaver because it thinks it is either funny, moral, or standard-trope-so-who-cares to torture the neurodivergent lesbian, but this was actually very well done so it gets a pass. The tragedy here is peak.

[alexanderlightweight]

I don't know how this works, but I'd like to ask something about jealous Alec, maybe even before he and Magnus have a relationship, if this is something you feel comfortable writing about. Love your writing, sending you a big hug😺

this worked just fine! it took a bit for me to get to (I have been struggling with some pretty extensive health issues for 5 years and 2024 had me fucked up) but not because of the prompt! I hope you still are able to get it and enjoy it!

sending hugs and nightshade cuddles and Abyss purrs

<3 lumine

set in the craft of adoration - the fic where bby!Alec sees Magnus from a young age and is pretty much 'him. that's my future husband. the future love of my life. i'm going to marry him when i grows up. he just doens't know it yet.'

-

Magnus is running his fingers over the old book in front of him with a loving tenderness that ignites something in Alec’s soul.

It’s a cold, simmering anger that makes no sense.  

In many ways, the libraries and storage rooms of the Institute are Alec’s sanctuary, places that he retreats to learn in quiet thoughtfulness and also a place that he likes to imagine connects him to Magnus.

He just hadn’t ever expected the reality of already being in this particular room, one considered more storage than library.  Alec’s currently under a layer of runes to keep him from being found via tracking and has been settled into his corner for several hours already.  If he loses track of time he’ll punch the stone wall enough to crack the skin of his knuckles and say he got too caught up in training.  

It’s a valid enough excuse that neither of his siblings have caught on to his subterfuge and Alec intends to keep it that way.  Hence why he’s trying very hard to bite the angry sound that fights to break past his lips. 

This is only the third time Alec has seen Magnus since that first glorious time — when Alec realized who he would devote himself to for the rest of his life — and Alec is still too lacking and young to approach him.

Objectively, Alec understands attraction and knows that he thankfully takes more after his mother than his father, but he’s also aware he’s still too young. His limbs haven’t fully grown into themselves and while he’s never had the fat pudge of a health clinging to his cheeks, he’s not quite filled in the lingering gauntness that clung to his frame after his parents finally fled with him from the Circle. 

Besides that, Alec can barely pin down a demon without weapons yet! He’s hardly someone Magnus Bane would think at and consider as potential.  

It’s with a bitter longing that Alec wishes it was his spine instead of the book that Magnus’ fingers trailed down, that it was through his own hair Magnus’ darkly painted nails would glide.

Watching Magnus peruse the same forgotten but brilliant collection of books that Alec also finds interesting feels the closest to benediction that Alec’s ever gotten. It’s a gift to know that later, his own fingers will press over the same leather and paper that Magnus’ hands do now.

—

There is an odd weight to the atmosphere of the small, hidden study that Magnus let himself into as a reward for completing the wards without insulting anyone.

To the point of violence at least.

The books are a rare treat, strangely clean and well-taken care of for such an obscure room, but Magnus doesn’t mind spending the few precious moments he has looking through them.  

As delightful as it would be to take one with him, now that he’s perusing the books they look too well maintained for him to risk taking one. 

Alas.

There’s a strange pocket of almost forgotten energy that Magnus nearly gravitates towards, only for his own magic to gently redirect him.  It’s not dangerous, but whatever nephilim artifact or treasure hidden away down here is probably too tempting for his own good, Magnus reasons.  If his magic is trying to keep him away, then it’s only because sometimes Magnus’ magic has more self-restraint than himself.

Not often, but sometimes.

—

Magnus magic just reacting to Alec’s self-preservation since it doesn’t harm Magnus and it’s pretty fond of alec at that point

Magnus magic: look your present isn’t ready yet, come back in a few years or better yet, wait until it can properly gift wrap itself and appear on your door step.

Magnus: i have no idea whats going on so i’m just going to ignore it since its not dangerous (normally he’d be interested but he has a limited amount of time and shadowhunter alarms to worry about

-

magnus has still not met Alec and he doesn't not realize he has an infatuated shadowhunter mini-commander stalking his deeds and also sometimes erasing things out of his files that 'the clave doesn't deserve to know' and 'I don't think Magnus would like knowing we have that information'.

Alec's been doing this since he first had a crush on Magnus and could work the database system.

-

yes I headcanon that Alec wasn't in the best health when his parents finally left the circle. rogue Shadowhunters fighting? even if maryse breastfed she'd be gone a lot as I doubt Valentine would be okay with 'cant go on that mission my son needs to eat' so like, they weren't going to get a wetnurse and would have to steal mundane formula they probably didn't really know how to use and yeah. there is a reason maryse wasn't going to put a second kid through that, it just sucks Alec still lived till I think 2-3 years like that.

[theallianceofcelestials]

has WH lunar or WH bloodmoon (or all three) had a ptsd episode/ panic attack around each other/ eclipse?

if so, (and you want to) may we please have a Drabble?

Around each other? Yes! Around Eclipse? Probably as well! Though he probably didn't try helping them at all in the beginning when they didn't trust him

Also, I have no idea how a panic attack or PTSD episode actually look like, haha, but I'll try my best

Bloodmoon feels as if their chest is constricting in on itself, squeezing painfully until the vents they take in don't reach whatever they have for lungs.

The more air they take in, the more the world begins to spin, simultaneously becoming hazy and turning sharp with focus. Everything sounds like it's coming from underwater, but also as if it's shouted right in their audials.

They grab onto their chest, because there's something wrong. There's something very wrong, but they don't know what that is!

They have no idea what's going on. The outside world is nothing but a terrifying, unknown blur before them now, too washed away to make any sense. There might be something moving, but they're not sure. They're too focused on the growing, sharp pain originating from their chest to pay attention.

Why is this happening?

They're back with their parents in the house, but they're also looking at a looming skull above them, opening its jaws so wide it should be impossible.

It feels like they've ran a lot, like they've just started dashing out of the village and didn't stop until... until... until something

The pain in their chest worsens, somehow blocking what minor air made its way in, and they hunch in on themselves, panting and gasping in the hope at least a little bit will make it in, but it doesn't feel like it, it feels like they're dying, like they've been thrown to the ground again, and they really wish someone would be beating them instead because at least they could handle that

Something touches them, and they jump, their optics snapping open to take in whatever's before them, something reddish and black, and just those simple colours make the knot in their chest relax the tiniest bit. It's enough to make the world clear enough to see the blurry outline of their mother.

"Blo-oon h- -e?"

They just stare at him, realising whatever touched them is now wrapped loosely around their wrist, gently tugging occasionally as if to take their hand away from where their claws have dug into their own chest.

Strangely, the more they focus on their mother, the better they feel. The sharp coiling pain in their center is beginning to slowly unclench, letting them greedily gulp up some much needed air.

A hand, at least they think it's a hand, is pressed against their forehead, and it's blessedly cold. When did they get so warm?

"Bloo-moon, ca- h-ar me?"

It's more understandable this time, and they give a nod. Eclipse before them seems to relax slightly too, giving a big sigh of relief.

"I'm goi- to hug yo- -ow. Is th-t alri-t?"

They think about it, before giving another nod. They don't think they can talk right now. They're too busy venting in air.

Mom moves forward slowly, gradually pulling them into a soft hug, which they notice they can easily break away from if they wanted to. However, they'd rather press their head into his chest, going limp once they can hear the soothing inner machinations of the witch's systems.

They close their optics, ignoring the way how the world rapidly gets blurry then focused again. It's much easier to cope with whatever's happening without seeing.

"Alright, you're fine now. I'm here."

A hand slowly, very slowly, begins caressing their upper arm, and they really appreciate just how lightly their mother is touching them right now.

"Can you think about three things you're hearing?"

They can hear their mom, which they think is the most important thing of all. However they can also hear a bird singing nearby, and a cricket croaking already.

"If you've finished that, could you think about three things you're feeling?"

Mom, the grass beneath them, and the dress mom's wearing tickling their face.

"Once that's done, is there anything you can smell?"

Mom, the fresh scent of rain, and whatever dinner is.

"I'm going to pull away now, alright? Just enough so I can see if you injured yourself. I'll still be holding you"

They give a nod, feeling ridiculously thankful for the hands that're loosely holding their arms. They have a feeling they should open their optics, but they aren't ready for that yet. Just... not yet.

"It seems like your claws came out, which is not surprising. The scratches you gave yourselves however are light. We'll take care of them once you're calmer."

They grimace in slight discomfort as the stinging of the wounds makes itself known, but there's nothing for them to really do about it. They feel too shaky still.

"Lunar was very worried about you, and he's waiting in the house right now. Should I tell him once we head in to leave you be for a bit?"

They nod, leaning back against their mother. He doesn't say anything more, just holds them.

[werewolfdog]

I find another reason of why M's familial attitude and treatment towards me are impacting me so deeply much is the fact— taking this in now— that while I had a dismissive and emotionally distant father who pulled the abandonment card when I was thirteen, my mother is never as truly caring and understanding as he is.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you write modern Jace being a blind king? Those glasses looks THICK. Maybe reader come to his dorm and see him with his glasses?

Request: Roommates college au where there’s a mixup with the dorms and they end up in the same dorm. Imagine rooming with Jace? He’d be so cute and maybe a little nerdy idk. She moves out but they become friends…and then more than friends

The second request has been sitting in my ask for a long time (sorry). I watched Insidious: The Red Door the other day and it gave me inspiration for it (I had planned to add smut in this one but it didn't end up fitting and my laptop didn't save a few of the scenes I had written so I had to rewrite them...not as good or cute as the first time)

my taglists are here��+ you can send requests here at any time

—

When you arrived at your assigned dorm, there were already people there. One was a boy with curly hair, and the other a woman with white-blond hair. Their backs were all turned, so they didn’t see you come in with your suitcase. 

‘’No, Mom, you don't have to do that. I can do it myself,’’ he said, trying to stop her from unpacking a box. ‘’Classes don’t start until Monday.’’ 

‘’But I want to help you settle in,’’ she insisted, taking a lamp out of the box and setting it on the nightstand. ‘’My first boy is leaving for college. This is difficult for me, Jace. Let me at least help you with your bed. No one makes a bed better than a mother.’’  

Jace sighed in defeat and moved out of her way so she could make his bed. ‘’Okay. Thanks, Mom.’’ 

She grabbed sheets from another box and began making the bed. ‘’Where are your brothers and father? Taking the last boxes out of the car shouldn’t take so long. I hope they didn’t get lost on campus.’’

You watched them with jealousy, wishing your parents had dropped you off at college too. It was a rite of passage for freshman students. But you understood that your parents had jobs they could not take days off from. 

You stood there for a moment before clearing your throat to announce your presence. ‘’This is room 309?’’

Jace’s mom looked up first, giving you a kind smile. ‘’Oh, hello there. Yes, this is 309. Are you looking for someone?’’ 

‘’No. Eh, this is my dorm,’’ you said with a frown, holding your paper in your hand. ‘’It says 309.’’ 

Jace turned around, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘’That’s impossible, there must be a mistake. This is a boys hall, and boys and girls aren’t supposed to room together. It’s nothing against you, I personally don’t see a problem rooming with a girl. It’s just…not permitted.’’

‘’I know. But it says here that this is my dorm.’’ 

‘’Let me see that paper, sweetheart.’’ The blond woman looked at your paper, her eyes reading the information slowly. ‘’Oh, no. You’re right. There must be a mistake on the college’s part.’’

‘’You should go to the housing office,’’ Jace suggested with the same kind smile as his mother. ‘’They’ll switch you to another hall.’’

You nodded. ‘’I’m gonna go and see if they can solve this issue. Can I leave my suitcase here?’’ 

‘’Of course.’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

The line outside the housing office was crazy due to the hoard of students coming back, so you didn't get back to your dorm until well later in the evening. There were no voices coming from inside your dorm, meaning Jace's family must have left. 

You knocked before coming in, not wanting to walk in on something you should not be seeing. But Jace did not hear you, laying on his bed with a book and headphones on. You didn’t take him for a reader, nor a glasses wearer. 

‘’What did they say at housing?’’ he asked, taking down his headphones and shutting his book. 

You walked over to the empty bed and fell down on it, exhausted. ‘’They basically said sorry for the inconvenience and that I gotta sleep here tonight. But I’ll get a new room tomorrow, so it’s not a permanent thing.’’ 

Jace hummed. ‘’Do you need help settling for the night?’’ 

You shook your head, standing. ‘’No. I’m just gonna get my pillow and blanket, and change into pajamas. There’s no point unpacking when I move again tomorrow.’’ 

Your suitcase was heavy, so you lowered it on the floor and grabbed your pillow and blanket, then rummaged through your suitcase for your pajamas. As you held up your shorts and a tee shirt, you remembered that this was a boys' hall, meaning the bathrooms would be full of boys.

Jace seemed to read your mind. ‘’Eh, I can turn around so you can change,’’ he offered. ‘’I promise I’m not gonna look. I can even take off my glasses if you want, I’m blind as a mile without them.’’

You chuckled at his offer. What a gentleman, you noted. Making sure you feel comfortable during this inconvenience. ‘’That's okay. Just turning around is fine."

He nodded and turned his back to you, facing the wall. ‘’You’re in art school?’’ he asked, making conversation as you changed so it would be less awkward. ‘’I've seen your sketchbook and art supplies beside your suitcase. Not that I snooped through your things. I promise I didn’t.’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ you replied, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. It felt daunting to be topless in the same room as an almost-stranger, but you tried to not think too much about it. ‘’And you’re in...?'

''Political science,’’ he finished. ‘’My grandfather went to this university, so I’m following his footsteps. I’m also taking a side class in History for personal pleasure.’’

Political science was not what you expected him to say, but it made sense. With his glasses, he had the politician look — minus the sweats and tee shirt. 

What kind of weirdo takes a history class for fun? 

‘’I know what you’re thinking — history is boring. But I love learning about the past civilisations and how ancient monuments were built, it’s so fascinating. Like the Moai Statues, the Giza pyramids or the Colosseum of Rome.’’

‘’Have you ever visited one of them?’’ You slipped into your pajamas, and threw your dirty clothes on top of your suitcase. 

His lips curled into an excited grin. ‘’I have! Last year, my family and I went to Italy and my dad took me and my brother Luke to see the Colosseum. It was magnificent. I took pictures. Do you want to see?’’ 

‘’Sure.’’ 

You sat back on your bed and Jace turned back around, reaching to grab his ipad to show you the pictures he took. His passion for history could be heard as he talked about the Colosseum, telling you facts you had never heard of. Eventually, the pictures came to an end, and Jace accidentally swiped too far, showing you a picture of his brothers and him making faces in Italy. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

You didn’t think so many people would be up early on a Saturday. The queue at the campus café was insane. All for a coffee and a bagel. 

As you walked across the quad, trying to get to the bookstore to get everything you needed for Monday, flyers were being shoved into your face, advertising for clubs, frat parties and sorority houses who were scouting for new members. You were not interested in any, but they were not taking no for answer.

A neon party? What year were they stuck into? 

You threw all the invitations in the trash.  

On your way back from the bookstore, you received an email from the housing office with your new dorm information. You could move in immediately, but needed to stop by for your new key. 

So that's what you did. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your new dorm and finally shower. 

‘’You’re already going?’’ Jace asked, coming in with a paper bag containing lunch from the café you went to this morning. 

You nodded, finishing zipping up your suitcase. ‘’I’m not going too far, though. I’m just a floor up, right above you, so if you jerk off or have a girl over, remember that I can hear all.’’

Jace’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, getting flustered.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Although you had moved out, you found yourself standing outside your old dorm a few days later. 

‘’Howdy roomie,’’ you said when Jace opened. ‘’Let’s go out, I’m hungry.’’ 

Before he could say anything, you stepped in as if it was still your dorm and sat on the empty bed that used to be yours. They must not have found him a new roommate. On the desk, you noticed Jace’s laptop was opened along with his textbook. 

The brunet frowned, clearly confused by your presence. ‘’Eh, what are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Taking my roommate out for pizza?’’ you replied. You had not eaten since that granola bar at lunch and your stomach was screaming. 

‘’We’re not roommates anymore.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. It was a minor detail. ‘’I know, but you’re the person I’ve spent the most time with since getting here and I don’t feel like going out to eat alone. Please, Jace,’’ you said, pouting to put all chances on your side. 

He was taken back. This wasn’t a common occurrence for him. A girl knocking on his door and asking him out — platonically or not. 

His frown disappeared, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. ‘’Fine,’’ he sighed. ‘’I’ll put on my shoes.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Getting pizza after class on Wednesday became a weekly rendez-vous. You sat at the same table, ordered the same toppings — pepperoni with extra cheese and red bell peppers —, and talked about anything but school. You made it an official rule on your fourth date when Jace spent the whole time biting his fingers and worrying about a paper that was due at the end of the week. 

Pizza dates were your special time to unwind and stop thinking of schoolwork.

As you both settled into your usual spot, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. Early autumn rain was the worst. The weather was too warm to carry around a jacket, but when you didn’t have one, rain would randomly start pouring. 

You took a second slice of pizza and glanced at Jace. ‘’I’m gonna need your help for a project for my art class.’’ 

His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly swallowed his bite of pizza. ‘’Nope!’’ 

You frowned at his immediate refusal. ‘’You don’t want to help me?’’ 

‘’No! That’s not that,’’ he assured. ‘’Didn’t we make a rule that we would not be speaking of school while eating pizza? You’re breaking your own rule,’’ he pointed out. 

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in the booth. ‘’I know… But Mrs. Rosenberg told us this afternoon that we needed a model for our proportion piece and I didn’t want to forget about it. All you have to do is sit and look pretty while I draw you.’’ 

Jace raised an eyebrow. ‘’Oh, so you think I’m pretty?’’ he teased, stuffing a huge bite of pizza in his mouth before you could swat his arm.

You rolled your eyes and took a bite of your own slice. ‘’So, will you be my model?’’

He thought about it, a slight pout on his lips. ‘’What’s in it for me?’’

‘’Extra time with your favorite roommate?’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

‘’Is this okay? I have a red polo somewhere. Maybe it would look better?’’ Jace asked as you laid out your art material on the second, unused, desk. 

You shook your head, and started propping up your small easel. ‘’You’re perfect like this.’’ 

He nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a bit as he settled into position by the desk lamp you had priorly angled. The silence between you was comfortable as you began tracing Jace's features on your canvas, and you took a moment to really look at him — his curly hair, the faint freckles across his aquiline nose, the highlight of his pouty lips, and the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his tee shirt.

He was nervous. You immediately picked on it when you came in with your canvas and art supplies. His demeanor was different than usual. 

‘’Can you move your head slightly to the left?’’

Jace complied, the dull yellow light of the lamp hitting exactly where you wanted it. Now, you could see all the angles and edges of his face. 

‘’Yes! That’s perfect!’’

You continued tracing the contrasts and outlines of your model's face, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Jace found it cute, but he kept it to himself. 

The afternoon passed. You painted and mixed colors on your palette, lost in your creative bubble while Jace was trying his best to keep his posture...which was starting to ache. Sitting completely straight for hours was more difficult than he thought.

As you were working on his complexion, you stole glances at your ex-roommate, trying to get every detail on your canvas, and noticed him shifting slightly, uncomfortable. 

‘’You know,’’ you began, breaking the silence. ‘’You don’t have to stay completely still like a statue. Feel free to move a little or adjust. I'll tell you if it doesn't work for me.’’

Jace gave a small laugh, the sound light and nervous. ‘’I’m not really used to this… Playing the model.’’

‘’I think you're doing good. Just...a bit stiff.’’

You continued painting him until the sun began to set, then called for a much deserved snack break. Jace pulled out a pack of Oreos from the snack box in his closet and your eyes turned into hearts. They were your favorite. 

‘’You really know the way to a girl’s heart,’’ you said as you took a third cookie from the pack. 

Jace smiled at you, pleased to see you enjoying them. He took a fifth one and chewed slowly as crumbs fell on his shirt. Oreos were messy. ‘’My mom sent them to me in a care package last week. I need my sugar to stay focused when I stay up late doing schoolwork.’’ 

Your heart melted at the sweet attention from Jace’s mother.  

‘’How is the painting going?’’  

‘’It’s coming together nicely. But it won’t be finished tonight. Painting takes a while. Especially portraits,’’ you replied. ‘’I need to get every little detail right. From that one curl that’s almost poking you in the eye to the dust of freckles on your nose.’’ 

The brunet’s cheeks flushed a bit at your words. He was not sure what to do with the feeling bubbling up in his stomach. Was this a compliment? Gods, he sucked with girls. 

You stayed in Jace’s dorm until one of you began yawning and it was time to call it a night. He helped you put your painting supplies away and even offered to clean your brushes in the boys’ bathrooms. This guy was a true sweetheart. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*���°

The following afternoon, you approached Jace's dorm, your painting supplies tucked under your arm. A lot of students used their Sunday to do their laundry, so you hoped he was there. You should have texted him before coming.

You were about to knock, fist raised, when you paused at the door, hearing the faint sound of a facetime conversation coming from inside. 

‘’She’s not my girlfriend. Shut up, Luke,’’ Jace's voice came through, tinged with frustration.

You could imagine his cheeks heating up. 

‘’You go on dates all the time…and you said she was cute, and talented, and funny,'' Luke's voice, younger and teasing, said, recalling everything. 

You should feel ashamed for eavesdropping on a conversation about you, but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, butterflies filling your stomach. Jace had talked to his brother about you? If Luke assumed you were his girlfriend, he must have talked about you more than once. 

‘’We’re just friends. I don’t have time for a girlfriend anyway. I have a lot of schoolwork,’’ Jace interrupted, his tone firm but slightly defensive.

‘’Nerd,’’ Luke snickered. 

You didn’t meet him on moving day, but you assumed he was the kind of brother who loved to tease his siblings. From what Jace had told you, he was quite the little troublemaker. 

A few doors down, a guy walked out of his dorm with a bag of dirty clothes and sweatpants low on his hips, and stared you down as you stood in the corridor. He was walking your way, so you took this as your cue to knock on Jace’s door. The sound echoed throughout the quiet corridor, louder than you intended.

‘’Ohh is that your girlfriend?’’ 

‘’No, it's...pizza delivery. Tell Mom I’ll call her tonight,’’ he added in a softer tone. 

You heard movement inside and soon Jace opened the door, greeting you with his usual bright smile. He had glasses and gray sweats on, meaning he had likely not left his dorm at all today. 

 ‘’Hey, you’re here! I was starting to think you made other plans…’’ Jace said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

‘’Never,’’ you replied, walking past him and setting your things down like yesterday. ‘’Besides, I need to bring in my final piece Wednesday morning and I still have a lot left to paint. It would have been a poor choice to not come.’’ 

Behind you, Jace nodded. ‘’Eh, should I change into the shirt I had yesterday? Because I slept in and didn’t do laundry.’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’The color of your shirt does not matter. I’m still painting your pretty face.’’ 

Jace smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly; it was a nervous habit he had, you had discovered. ‘’I’ll go sit at my spot, then.’’ 

‘’Have you taken a peak while I was not there?’’ you asked as you placed the canvas and easel in front of your chair. 

You glanced over at him, half-expecting a guilty grin, but he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing slightly. ‘’No. I want to be surprised.’’ 

You finished setting your stuff up quietly. 

The sky was gray today, clouds hanging heavy as if threatening rain, so you were thankful for the artificial light you chose to use yesterday. Natural light is great, but frustrating as it changes with time and weather. 

When you began mixing colors and painting, you felt Jace’s shy gaze on you. His eyes would dart away when you almost caught him, pretending to be interested in something else, only to glance back at you a moment later. It was a silent game, one that made you smile every time you almost caught him.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

About an hour into your painting, rain started to fall heavily and the sky began to shake with thunder. It echoed loudly around the room, causing the lights to flash. 

You were used to rain and thunderstorms, so you didn't think this one was strong enough to cause a power outage, but after an especially loud crack of thunder, the whole dorm went dark. 

‘’I guess that’s our cue to stop for today,’’ you said with a small laugh, barely able to see your canvas in front of you. You sighed, slightly frustrated by the interruption, and put your brush down on the easel.

Jace moved to his window, seeing the pouring rain and an impressive lightning flashing in the distance. ''Looks like it's not going to let up anytime soon.'' He glanced at your face, but was blinded by the brightness of your phone’s light. 

You quickly apologized, laughing. ‘’I didn't mean to do that,’’ you promised.

He glared at you and went back to his bed, rubbing his eyes. ‘’It’s worse with my glasses. I can’t see.’’ 

You laughed harder, directing the light to the ceiling so no one would be blinded by it. ‘’Do you think the university has a generator?’’

‘’For the academic buildings, not the residences. It would take a massive one to provide power to the whole campus,’’ Jace explained, finally starting to get his vision back. ‘’We’re stuck in the dark until it gets back.’’ 

You sighed and abandoned your side to move and sit on Jace’s bed. You could have gone back to your dorm, but you would be sitting alone in the dark. He turned his head to look at you, noticing you sitting on the edge of his bed, and moved back to make more room for you. You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’.

Thankfully, it was only mid-November, so it was not that cold. But it will get cold eventually if the power goes out for too long…

After a few hours, the power was not back. And the room had gotten a little cold, so Jace offered you one of his hoodies. It was gray and felt like a blanket on you. And it smelled like him — woodsy and comforting. 

Through this long darkness and silence, you found yourself thinking about the conversation you heard when you came to his dorm. You figured it was heavily influenced by the hoodie enveloping you. 

‘’Jace?’’ 

He hummed, sitting in his corner against his pillows. 

The words vomited out before you could stop them. ‘’Why did you tell your brother that you didn’t have time for a girlfriend when you spend all your free time with me?’’ 

The brunet was taken aback by your question. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. ‘’W-what?’’ he stammered, his cheeks flaming. ‘’How do you know—’’ 

‘’I heard you on the phone earlier. I didn't mean to listen, I just…did.’’

Jace cleared his throat and spoke quietly, his voice strained and embarrassed. ‘’You weren’t supposed to hear that...’’ He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze. ''What else have you heard?'' 

A lump of guilt knotted inside your stomach for putting him on the spot like this. ''Not much. A guy walked out of his dorm and was staring me down, so I knocked on your door to get away,'' you explained in truth. 

There was a moment of silence as Jace picked at his fingers. He was still embarrassed, but he needed to push it to the side and make something useful out of it. ‘’I told Luke I didn’t have time for a girlfriend because I don’t know how to have a girlfriend. I mean, I do know the principle. I just…don’t know how to talk to girls.’’

You smiled, finding his honesty adorable. ‘’You’re talking to me now,’’ you said with a hint of amusement hiding behind your words.

‘’And it’s exactly the problem. We’re just talking,’’ he muttered more to himself than to you. 

‘’Would you like us to do more than talking?’’ you asked flirtatiously, extending an invisible hand for Jace to grasp. 

Slowly, his gaze shifted back to you. ‘’It depends what you mean by more than talking…’’ 

There was another loud crack of thunder, echoing and shaking the walls. The loud noise made Jace jump slightly, nervous from the proximity between you. He tried to brush it off, but you grinned and inched closer to cup his face. 

''Tell me if you want me to stop.'' 

His eyes found yours and he gripped the blanket, needing something to grab to take his nerves off. ''I don't want you to stop.''

You leaned closer, your hand still on his cheek, and pressed your lips onto his. The touch of your lips sent a jolt of electricity up Jace's spine.  He gasped, having never felt so much from a simple kiss, and kissed you back without hesitation, his lips plush but chapped against yours. 

More lightning pierced the horizon outside the window, but you were too lost in each other's lips to notice. Jace's hand that was not grabbing the blanket came to rest on your hip to pull you a little closer. He was gentle and inexperienced, you could feel it in the way he was touching you. 

You pulled away to catch your breath, but a needy whine left his lips, grabbing your hip with more force and pulling you back in. He was not done kissing you.

When night came and the power finally returned, you didn’t go to your dorm. You borrowed one of Jace’s tee shirts and slid under the covers with him. You both had classes at 8am, so you simply laid together, Jace’s head on your chest while you gently rubbed his back and slowly fell asleep.

—

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[laligraves]

a wedding in june

cult leader!joel miller x virgin fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~3.2k summary: You run from Joel on your wedding day. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), some proofreading, post-outbreak, commune/cult vibes, arranged marriage, mentions of infected/gore/violence, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, some face slapping, loss of virginity (and some pain associated to that but only a few sentences), outdoors sex, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i promise i have other ideas rattling in my brain besides dubious consent 😭 i have a whole wip chart with tons of ideas that i hope i can write

You run faster at the sound of shouts behind you. Sweat drips down your temples and fear makes your heart beat erratically, but you don’t dare stop. 

The outer gates are only a few more hundred feet away. All you need to do is get past the trees and you’ll be able to escape. You don’t have time to think about how this will be your first time venturing outside of the commune. 

Everything you were taught about the outside, about the orphaned souls and monsters that lurk, none of that matters. Not when you’re more terrified at what your future will bring.

Joel Miller. The man who in just a few months, cleared away the hundreds of infected in the nearby valley. Joel, who in the commune’s monthly hunting trips, manages to find everything from venison to medication. 

The times you’ve been close enough to Joel, to feel the heat emanating off his body, you can almost taste the violence that simmers beneath his skin. Instead of it scaring you, like it would any sane person, it excites you. 

The longing in his gaze whenever he looks at you makes you dizzy. There’s a pulse of heat between your thighs each and every time, one that will only go away after you ride your pillow until exhaustion. Whenever you face him again, after you’ve dreamed of him taking you, you wonder if he knows what you do in the privacy of your room. 

There’s no denying that he’s saved this commune from the brink of starvation. Of course everyone, including you, is grateful for the kindness of a stranger. But in the months he’s been here, their gratitude has turned into pure devotion. 

Your parents practically pushed you into his arms the moment Joel asked about you. Normally quite level headed, your parents have begun to treat Joel like a God. You thought Joel would find their insistence of marriage off putting, that he would be an honorable man and let you choose your own path in this place.  

You were wrong. 

Your parents saw it as an honor that out of all the women in the commune, Joel chose you. The books and pretty dresses he finds on his trips are only a sign of how devoted a husband he will be, at least that’s what your mother tried to tell you.  

And the times you tried to speak to Joel and get him to rethink this marriage? Don’t worry about it, pretty girl, was all he would say before he’d send you off. 

You can imagine him in your bed and fantasize about him in your dreams, but to be his wife? Especially now that he’s been chosen to lead the commune—you want nothing to do with that. 

A denser path to your right has you changing directions, wishing to throw them off your trail. You can still make it if you run through here. 

Except it’s too late. Strong arms grab and push you into the lush grass. 

“No,” you scream, “let me go!” 

“What’s wrong with you,” Joel snaps, “don’t you know what’s out there?” 

“I don’t care,” you scream out childishly, “I’d rather be out there than be with you!” 

He climbs on top of you, grabbing your wrists in one hand and pressing them above your head into the grass. He leans on your thighs to keep you still and grabs your chin with the other hand. 

“Listen to me,” he insists, “you don’t know what you’re sayin’. You know nothin’ of what life is like outside these walls.” 

He digs his fingers into your cheeks and shakes your head slightly since you refuse to look at him. 

“Joel, did you find her?” your father calls out from a distance. 

“Yeah, I got ‘er.” 

“Great, let’s go back and finish the celebration–” 

“No,” Joel calls out. 

“Joel–” 

“Leave,” Joel interrupts. 

He continues sitting on you, putting most of his weight on your trembling body. The white dress you're wearing, a satin piece that he found on their last hunting trip into the town, rides up dangerously close to your panties. 

“I need to teach you a lesson in respect, wife,” Joel growls. 

He stands and just when you think you can escape again, he yanks you up with him. Joel holds your arm tight with one hand while taking off his belt with the other. He spins you around and brings your wrists behind your back, using the belt to bind them together. 

“You wanna see what’s out there? Since you think you’re so tough?” Joel asks, not waiting for an answer and instead dragging you to the gate. “I do everything to make this place safe for you, darlin’. But this is how you repay me? Runnin’ off at the first chance you get?” 

You’re surprised at his words and the sincerity of his voice. He sounds almost… sad. 

“Practically beggin’ to be out there with those fuckers instead of me?” he continues, “The only man who can truly protect you?” 

You reach the gate and your heartbeat picks up again. You’ve never been out this far. In fact, you’re acres away from the actual commune. While the gates are secure and regularly enforced, you can’t help but feel truly terrified that something will grab you just outside these barriers.  

“I’m sorry, Joel–” 

He stops, spinning you around and landing a hard slap, slap, slap on your ass. 

“You address me as sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out, “I learned my lesson. Let’s–let’s go back.” 

Joel ignores you, choosing instead to march you right to the gate. He keeps one hand on your arm and uses the other to maneuver the many locks and wires on the barrier door until it finally opens. 

“No, please! I said I was sorry! I wasn’t thinking!” 

He drags you out and for the first time in your life, you’ve left the commune. Despite only a metal gate separating both sides, this area seems devoid of life. 

He walks and walks until you wonder if you’ll pass out from the panic. You fall to your knees and Joel crouches right in front of you. 

“Your daddy ever tell you about the infected?” Joel whispers, tilting your chin up with his index finger. “How they’ll bite and rip into any part of your flesh.” 

“No, please,” you whimper. 

He drags a finger down your neck and over your exposed collarbones, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Your nipples tighten as he glides his finger over one breast and then the other. 

“Once they’re done with you, if there’s anything left, then you become just as mindless and violent as them. Forever lost–” 

“Sir–” 

His hand tightens around your neck, cutting off your words. 

“It’s not just one, babydoll. They like to travel in hordes. Makes it easier to find their victims.” 

Your air supply thins and blood rushes to your ears. You squeeze your thighs unconsciously as the pulsing between them only grows. Joel ghosts his lips over yours and your eyes flutter closed without thinking. 

“But it’s not just them,” he whispers over your lips, “there’s non-infected out there. People who won’t think twice about hurtin’ a pretty girl like you. Killin’ ya’ just for fun.” 

You’re not sure who kisses who first. It’s not the chaste kiss the two of you shared at the altar. It’s rough and has you pressing your body close to his so you can take every swipe of his tongue or bite from his teeth. He continues holding your neck, lightly squeezing so you have no other choice than to gasp for air. 

You fall back at the push of his hand on your chest. He flips you on your side to untie his belt from your wrists. You attack the moment your hands are free, sliding your hands through his salt and pepper hair and tugging him down.

Joel hisses but returns each of your kisses and bites with his own. You hear the squawk of a crow from above and you're immediately reminded of where you are. 

“Wait, sir,” you gasp, “not here. Take me back to your–our house–” 

He drags his teeth down your neck, rubbing his beard into your soft skin and biting down. 

“Thought you’d rather be out here than with me?” he says, repeating your words from earlier.  

“No,” you whimper, trying to push him off, “not here. I–” 

He reaches your chest and sucks your nipple into his mouth right over your dress. Your words are cut off and you're arching your back, trying to push more into his mouth. 

Joel makes room between your thighs and grinds down as you twist his wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His hard bulge rubs over your pussy and your whimper at the roughness.

He pinches your other nipple between two fingers then leans back to tug down the straps of your dress. Warm, summer wind glides over your now naked breasts and you shiver. 

“Look at these pretty tits,” he groans, “all mine.” 

Joel yanks the skirt of the dress over your tummy and runs a finger up and down your panty-covered pussy. You shamelessly grind down on his hand and cry out the moment he lands a harsh slap. 

“Please,” you beg with what's left of your sanity, “take me home.” 

With the same technique as before, Joel holds both wrists in one hand and uses the other to rip your panties off. You try to close your thighs from the sting of the elastic, but he’s quick to stop you. 

“Christ,” he whispers, “now ain’t that a beauty.” 

With two fingers, Joel swipes through your slick folds and brings them up to his mouth.   

“Mmm, sweet girl. Needa taste of this pussy.” 

“What do you mean—“

You try to remind Joel of just where the two of you are, but he fits his broad shoulders between your thighs and fuses his mouth to your pussy. 

You’re surprised, stunned silent by the heat of his mouth on your most intimate parts. You’re by no means ignorant of what a husband does to his wife—you’ve read enough of the romance books your mother keeps hidden in her bedside table and heard enough stories from your friends to have an idea of what happens on a wedding night. 

But never did you imagine it would feel like this. His beard and mustache only heighten the sensitivity between your thighs. The setting sun and the dense forest that surrounds the two of you should add to your terror, but Joel manages to put your attention elsewhere. 

His tongue lashes repeatedly over your clit and down to tease your entrance. You throw your head back onto the grass and stare through blurred vision at the purple sky, uncaring of where you are and of what creeps in the dark. 

He’s greedy, eating away at you like you're the last meal he’ll ever have. You’re slick and sticky, painting his face with your juices, making it easy for him to push a thick finger into your entrance. 

The stretch burns, but he calms you with a swipe of his tongue on your clit and the vibrations of his moans on your skin. 

“Your parents were right, you are a virgin,” he groans, pushing on the little piece of thin flesh that separates the rest of you. “Gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

You have no time to think about when your parents had that conversation with him. Instead, you're dumbfounded at the size of his fingers. You whine, unsure of what exactly you're asking, but nonetheless chanting more, more, more into the air. 

Joel manages to slide a second finger, curving them and pressing on something bumpy that makes you twitch and see black dots in your vision.

He stretches and scissors his fingers in your tightness, opening you up more and sucking your swollen button between his lips. Just when the heat is about to consume every inch of your body, he stops. 

“No,” you whine, trying to yank his head back to your thighs. 

Joel dodges your hands and laughs at the desperation written all over your face. He leans down, pressing his wet face to yours in a sloppy kiss, forcing you to suck on his tongue. Riding your pillow doesn’t compare to this.  

Just as before, Joel rips away and catches your wrist right when you reach for him. 

“If you woulda been a good girl, I woulda eaten this virgin pussy till mornin’,” he says while unbuttoning his jeans. “Made you ride my face and cum as many times as you wanted.” 

You barely understand how someone could ride a face, and yet you clench and gush around nothing, wanting his mouth or fingers back. You see the dark, curly hair at his base before he pulls out his length. 

“But for bein’ a brat, I’m gonna make you come on my cock instead.”

The tip is swollen and leaking a white-ish liquid that makes your mouth water at the sight. He lets go of your wrist and gently slaps your face. 

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl? I won’t fuck you if you ain’t payin’ attention.” 

“Y-yes, sir. I’m listening.” 

Joel laughs once again, noticing the dazed look in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.” 

There’s a craving inside of you, one that has you suddenly feeling so empty, that if he doesn’t fill you with his cock you think you’ll die. You repeat the word over and over in your head. 

You’ve read it more than enough times and heard it through hushed giggles from your friends, yet the way Joel says the word, the way he squeezes and twists his hand over his cock, you finally understand what the word truly means. 

Your fingers and the handle of your hairbrush were never able to give you what you so desperately seeked. You always stopped before you went in too deep, never able to take that final push inside.

He spreads open your thighs and you lean up on your elbows to try to catch a glance at what he’s doing. You see your sticky fluids stuck on your inner thighs and over the tip of his cock. He pushes in just an inch, and you gasp at the thickness. 

“Fuck, tight little thing,” Joel moans. “Need you to beg f’me, baby.” 

“Please, please, sir,” you answer quickly, “please, I–I want it!” 

He sinks in another inch, his face pinching in barely controlled restraint. 

“Say–fuck, say ‘I need your cock, sir’.”

The words are caught in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. Joel doesn’t like that you take too long to answer and slaps your cheek. 

“Answer me.” 

“I need your–your cock, sir,” you whine. 

“Again, fu–again,” he demands. 

You try your best to repeat his words, except he’s too far gone now. There’s a pinch, a rip of thin flesh and suddenly he’s sliding all the way in. You claw at his arms and at the grass to get away but he’s gripping your thighs, pressing deeper and whispering take it, pretty girl and you ain’t getting away from me.  

You feel full, so incredibly full. You’re split open, ripped apart just for him. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Joel coos, “it’ll hurt only for a minute.” 

His thumb rubs tiny circles on your clit and he leans over to press kisses on your eyelids and cheeks, licking away the tears that fall. 

The stretch burns, but his groans of pleasure and his gentle kisses have a warm glow spreading through your body. Joel notices the change in you and glances down to watch your hips move in small circles. 

“There we go, baby,” he moans, “knew you’d like it.”

He pulls out slowly, keeping eye contact with you and watching each pinch of your brow and flutter of your eyelids. 

“Saved this pretty cunt just f’me, yeah?” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, pushing away the sweaty curls from Joel’s forehead. 

He picks up the pace, curling his hand behind your knee and pushing it into your chest, arranging you like a doll. The pain now completely gone, you lay there, running hands over his arms and watching the sweat drip down his temples. 

Every slide of his cock kisses the very end of you. Your hips move and twist on their own accord and you have no choice but to cry out into the night sky. 

“Takin’ this–this big cock like a good girl, yeah?” Joel groans, watching his cock plunge in and out of your little hole. “Need you–fuck, need you to say you’re mine, baby.” 

“I–I’m yours, sir,” you whine, feeling a twinge in your core, “yours, yours, yours.” 

You dig your fingers in his neck and drag him down for a kiss. He grunts as you bite deep enough to draw blood. 

The thoughts from earlier, about running away from him, leave your mind. Even if it hurts a little, even if you aren’t prepared to be a wife, this is exactly what you need. And you won’t let anyone else have him.

“You gonna cum, girl? Gonna cum on your husband’s big cock?” 

This time he doesn’t stop you. His hand squeezes your neck and he traps you into the ground, pistoning his hips into your slick cunt. Your oxygen lessens and your cumming, numbness and white heat spreading throughout your body. 

“Just like that, baby,” Joel growls, “soak my cock.” 

You're gushing on him, painting the hair at his base with sticky juices. You tremble in his arms and claw at the hand that squeezes your neck. Joel doesn’t let up, fucking into your limp body, loving the way you mewl underneath him.  

He moves in short thrusts, stiffening and letting out an animalistic grunt into the night sky. He presses his head into your neck, sucking and biting into your soft skin while he spills his seed inside of you.

"Take my cum, baby. Take it, take it," Joel moans.

You clench around him, massage his cock with your inner muscles. Every drop of his cum belongs deep inside of you. 

With the little strength left in your body, you run your fingers through his hair. Joel's hands move to grip your thighs and he grinds down, spilling the last of his cum into your cunt.

"You belong to me," Joel whispers. "Don’t ever run again."

You lay there in the grass, breasts bare and pussy full of your husband's cock.

"I won’t," you promise. 

Joel leans back and slowly slips out. There’s a twinge of red mixed with his cum that he wipes up with your ripped panties. He lays down next to you and brings you in close so that your head is placed on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and the sounds of crickets around you.

You think about the long way back to Joel's–well now your house too–and then you remember exactly where the two of you are.

"Sir, we're outside of the gates what if something or someone comes–we don't have any weapons–"

“There’s another gate a few miles out," he interrupts, "I installed it for extra protection around this place.” 

You drop your head on his chest from relief and exhaustion. Joel rubs a hand down your back and squeezes your arm. 

“I’d never put you in harm's way, pretty girl.”

-

general taglist: iloved1lfs0

ps: i know that there has been other cult leader!joel fics but in no way shape or form have i copied those works for this. if there is something major in my work that sounds similar to someone else's, it's purely by coincidence. i respect each person who takes time out of their day to write FREE content and the last thing i'd do is steal their storylines 🤍🤍🤍

[pumpyriah]

Please help an unemployed brown mixed disabled trans person sustain their family + help their parents leave venezuela

Hello tumblr dot com users! I'm Ren, a trans and disabled venezuelan trying to get back into art. And as of the 1st of nov 2024 I'm officially unemployed and really, really broke 🥲

If you want a more extended version of our situation you can reffer to my last post thread from months ago, I decided to finally create this one as an updated version.

Summarizing and updating extremely quickly what has happened this last time: The humanitarian Parole is no longer available, The Darien has become way more dangerous and inaccesible to cross and the Panama goverment is going to get toughter, considering this is a mostly usamerican site I hope I don't have to mention what happened this month over there, and obviously there's certainty shit isn't going to get any better from this point onwards. Things have changed so much that my mother started considering emigrating to Spain.

As some of the people close to me know, I really dislike being in the necessity of e-begging without at least offering something in return to people helping me because I don't feel ok doing so otherwise. That's why in this post I have several avenues to help me depending on what anyone might preffer.

Our current plan is to keep saving as much as we can while we wait and hope for a relative of my father to present a Family Reunification TPS while there is still chance, if neither of those don't work or something happens, we'll help either him or my mother go to Spain instead. We are definitively not giving up, but that doesn't mean things didn't get harder.

❗Some of the most urgent needs we're currently trying to cover:

7-12$ Bug poison. We have an extreme problem of cockroach infestation

20-25$ Rispheridona resupply

10-15$ Glasses reparation

6-10$ Shower reparation

+30$ Mother's car revision

+20$ By-Weekly groceries

+15$ General Medicines

You can make as little as a 1 USD donation by simply buying a high quality piece I've done recently!

I'm also currently still offering extremely cheap comms for little chibi doodles like the ones in the pics below!!

Either way. If you can't of don't wish to donate or commission. Please know that just by sharing this around as much as possible is enough to help. Thank you <3

ppal

[ 0 / 8000 ]

[pirateprincessblog]

in vino veritas

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!hongjoong x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hongjoong, bratty!reader, artist!hongjoong 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, oral (m receiving), toys, gagging, hint of ddlg

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: divorced parent child, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i always write the reader as inexperienced or innocent, this time i'm trying a different approach hehe hopefully it works!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔,

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈.

it is a challenge to find an outfit appropriate for the evening. you do not wish to go, not since your mother has made it clear she is going only for mr kim. your father, as his best friend since childhood, would be there, and your mother couldn't pass the opportunity to continue her game of jealousy since their separation.

"bold of you to assume that mr kim will even lay his eyes on you." you comment, passing by her room and glancing at her outfit choice. a red dress shorter than her knees with a low neckline. a classic. funnily enough, she used the very same dress to separate your father's then girlfriend from him and took him for herself. she is your mother, but you don't close your eyes at her mistakes. "besides, you're not twenty anymore. that dress doesn't look flattering at all. it's not age appropriate."

"god, just like your father. insults, insults-"

"oh, so when i kiss your ass i am like you, but when i disagree with you, i am like my father? how lovely."

"go to your room and get dressed."

"why do i have to go? you're the one who's trying to get dicked down toni-"

"go to your room!"

defeated, you groan and slam your door shut, then throw yourself on the bed. even with your head buried under your pillows, you still hear her obnoxious voice.

"and don't talk back to me! you've become very rude, and i will not have you embarrass me in front of our friends there! especially not in front of hongjoong."

you don't remember mr kim. you only know that he had a wife, that she also cheated, much like your mother, and since then he only travels and creates art wherever he goes. ever since you got the invitation, you've been trying to find out how he looks now. but all he posts on his social media is the destinations he's visiting, food and sneak peeks of his art. not even a glimpse of him in any picture. come to think of it, your mother's standards are pretty high. your father had your school friends coming over to your house just for him, you can only imagine what mr kim looks like.

deciding on a simple short sweater dress and knee high boots, you put your coat on and head into the autumn evening. your mother trails behind, having difficulties with walking in such high heels. you don't wait, still angry about her plan involving your poor father and an innocent man.

it is only seven in the evening, and something tells you that you'll be here for a very long time. at least midnight. on the bright side, you'll finally see your father. and meet the mystery man behind all the artwork you've been admiring. he doesn't post much of it, but what you've seen, it's pretty damn amazing.

"dad!" you spot him as soon as you enter the crowded space, your father with his recognizable thomas shelby outfit and a glass of whiskey in his hand. you hug him, tight as always, and subconsciously smell him. tobacco, whiskey, and vanilla. home.

"hey, kid." he returns the hug, a little less tight than yours as to not hurt you. "oh you smell great! that the new perfume i got you?"

"oh, i absolutely love it. i bathe in it every day."

"i'm so glad you like it." he gently ruffles your hair, enough to show affection but to not mess it up completely. "now, where's ursula?"

"very mature, calling your ex wife a cartoon villain. what, i put on a few pounds, so what?"

"it's not about the pounds, and you know it."

you turn your head away from your mother, hiding the laugh that is threatening to escape. but she catches the way your father winks your way, and claps her hands, causing a few heads to turn.

"a father and daughter teaming up on her mother. lovely. if you love him more than me, why don't you go live with him?"

you finally look at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "you threatened to hurt yourself if you saw me exit the house with a suitcase. you guilt tripped me, called yourself an awful mother and whatnot. what are you on about?"

defeated, she tries to push the glass of whiskey out of your father's hand, and when failing to do so, she groans and stomps down the gallery hall. and yet she calls you two mature sarcastically.

"i truly hope she finds someone crazy enough to handle her, just so you can finally move out and have a life of your own. is she giving you a hard time?"

"i can handle her. usual guilt tripping and nagging, nothing new. how was your trip?"

your father happily tells you all about his recent trip to spain and france, which was mr kim hongjoong's gift to him for birthday. he went on and on about all the food he tried, all the buildings and art he saw, and how fun and informed about everything mr kim was.

"he knew so much that i was ashamed to be walking with him sometimes. i didn't know the difference between baroque and rococo. hell, i didn't know what rococo even was. i'm definitely taking you to see la sagrada familia on my next week off."

"sounds great, dad."

"listen, i'm gonna go find the restroom, too much whiskey," he whispers, "you feel free to walk around and watch. if you see something you like, i'll ask hongjoong for the price and i'll get it for you."

you look at him with a scoff, but when you see that he is dead serious, you raise your eyebrows. "what? you'd buy an art piece worth thousands of pounds?"

"family discount," he winks at you once again, then disappears into the crowd.

"a drink, madam?" someone says next to you.

your eyes land on the tray with glasses of red and sparkling wine, the person holding it dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, hair slicked back and white gloves on his hands.

"no thanks, i don't drink."

he nods understandingly, then continues his journey towards the arriving guests. you were never one to buy art. well, you weren't exactly one to be really into it. you see a picture, a sculpture or something similar, you think it's neat. do you go out of your way to find out the artist, or search for more? not quite. but walking down the waxed floor under the rich chandeliers and looking at the massive paintings, you might get into it. finally, something that is not minimalism or some picasso-wannabe shit. stunning golden frames, detailed paintings, and harmony of colours on canvas. all of it put together so perfectly, as if it was brought back from the times of renaissance and not painted in an atelier just outside of town earlier this year.

"drink?"

"i said no already, thanks." you reply, not bothering to look at the person.

"just a sip? to loosen up. you look rather stiff."

you turn your head towards the voice, confused as to why the waiter is persistent. but next to you stands a well dressed man, two glasses of red wine in his hands. he wears black slacks, a tight black turtleneck, and a long black coat. his eyes are pools of honey under the yellow chandeliers, and his hair shiny streaks of gold. he looks breath taking, and you almost thank your mother for dragging you here.

he holds the wine glass for you to take, and you do so. he raises his own towards you, then takes a sip of it, not once breaking eye contact with you. you bring yours to your lips, and the alcohol barely touches them before you move it away. you were never a fan of alcoholic drinks. they tasted awful, and brought out the worst in you. you don't want to embarrass your father tonight. or yourself in front of this gorgeous looking man.

"you've spent quite some time looking at this. admiring the work or surprised at the nudity?"

you scoff, looking at the painting again. gradually going down the hall, the art becomes less art and more erotica. how disappointing. "not admiring, that's for sure."

"oh? how so?" he asks, intrigued.

"well, for starters, very unrealistic. such big breasts and such a tiny waist? has that hongjoong ever seen a woman in his life?"

he laughs along with you, taking another sip of his wine. "i heard he paints with live models, so i'm guessing that this woman really exists somewhere."

"alright, i'll let you have that one. what about this? very inaccurate." you walk over to the next painting, pointing out all the things you were dissatisfied with.

"even an art critic isn't this harsh. it's just art, at the end of the day. an artist's way of escaping and creating his own world to get lost in. nothing wrong with that, right? writers and readers have books, gamers have games, chefs have cooking and baking, and artists have art."

"well, if the artist is an old pervert and all his inspiration comes from naked women, then sure. nothing wrong with that."

after a few moments of silence, you look over at him. he stares at the painting, puzzled. you clear your throat, sensing the awkward air enveloping you both. "i would love to continue this conversation, but if i stay i will only become meaner and accidentally insult you, and i certainly wouldn't want that. i'm passionate when it comes to me being right and proving others wrong."

you give him the glass of wine back with a sour grin, and he returns a scoff of disbelief. "charming."

"wasn't trying to be."

and with that, you leave him standing with two glasses of wine again, just like he approached you. you visit the restroom too, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. all the women are gorgeous tonight, wearing classy dresses and heels, and suddenly you feel underdressed.

"oh my god, your boots are so cool!" as if she heard your overthinking, the girl behind you exclaims. "where did you get them?"

"uh, i think it was a sale at zara. very uncomfortable though, i don't recommend." you reply with a laugh.

"that's okay, they look so pretty it's worth it. anyways, love your makeup." then, she exits the restroom.

you look at your boots, plain black with a chunky heel and over the knees. nothing special about them. still, you appreciate the compliment.

it doesn't take long for you to find your father again, this time in front of a sculpture of, again, a half naked woman. how odd.

"there you are! found anything?"

"no," you reply dryly, and refrain yourself from nasty comments because of his friends.

"well, that's a shame. hongjoong, this is my daughter i've been telling you about."

your heart drops when you hear his name, and then drops a little lower when your eyes lock with the familiar brown ones you just abandoned further down the hall.

"oh, i've had the pleasure," he responds, not looking surprised like you. "an informed young woman, for sure."

so much for embarrassing yourself. if he is offended, he doesn't show it. he only extends his hand as a formal greeting, and when you offer him yours to shake, he turns it over and kisses the top of it. you are baffled, unable to do or say anything. you look over at your father, who doesn't blink an eye to the unusual situation you've found yourself in. mr kim releases your hand, but not before holding eye contact with you just a few seconds longer.

"ah, right, hongjoong is a gentleman. also, if you didn't already notice, he loves women. not like that, of course. they're just-"

"they are my biggest muse. this world's biggest and prettiest treasure."

"charming," you repeat his word from earlier.

he smirks, teasingly. you want to slap the smirk off his face. he adjusts the sleeves of his turtleneck, rolling them up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. it is only then that you notice he isn't wearing the coat anymore, and you have the freedom of shamelessly staring at his body. his forearms are big, painted with bulging veins. the turtleneck hugs his waist and chest perfectly, to the point of slightly showing the outline of his abs. he isn't bulky, but built like a greek statue. he holds himself so elegantly, not bothered what anyone has to say about his work. it's a shame, because you still have a lot to say, regardless of how hot and bothered you are for him at the moment.

"ah, let me just clarify something. in case someone thinks that i'm just an old pervert..." he discreetly glances at you, making your jaw drop slightly, "...all these women have come to me and asked to be painted or sculpted. i have never once asked a woman to undress for me, nor did i sexualize her when she did so herself. i see art, not porn material."

your father seems offended that someone could have made such an assumption. little did he know that the culprit was the young woman right next to him, hiding behind his glass of wine.

"say, hongjoong, how does that work? do i have to send you an e-mail? or just show up at your door?"

if you thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, your mother decided to prove you wrong.

"mom!" you scold, pink spreading on your cheeks as you look at the people surrounding you.

"what? why wouldn't i want to be painted by such a handsome-"

"unfortunately, at the moment i do not take any commissions. the gallery is my priority."

and just like that, mr kim shuts her down. he spares her no glance, in respect towards your father, or simply because he is disgusted by such an idea and behaviour. he is not stupid, that you notice. he seems to know the difference when someone genuinely wants to be painted, and when someone tries to take advantage of the situation and expects something from him.

as the night goes, you notice that kim hongjoong isn't old like you called him. he is your father's age, sure, but he aged like fine wine. it takes a lot of staring and concentration to notice a few gray strands of hair cleverly hidden among the golden brown ones. you notice that he doesn't talk much. he lets the people around him talk, and only engages when they have a question about a work of his.

you also notice his hands. his fingers, specifically. you can't help but imagine his fingers dipped in clay, shaping it the way his mind intended, his focused gaze and messy hair. you wish to see him at work, at least once in your life. just to satisfy your imagination. because to make a move with a man of that age is just absurd, and disrespectful towards your father. and himself. he just said that he doesn't do it for sexual purposes, and you were almost offering him the same thing as your mother.

awful.

you glance at him one more time, and when you find him already staring at you with an intense gaze, you take it as your cue to leave. a look of hatred, curiosity or lust, you didn't know. you only knew that you felt nervous under his stare, sweat emerging on your skin and stomach turning from fear that he read your mind and caught you thinking about him inappropriately.

"it's a bit late, i'll excuse myself."

"oh, already?" your father asks, planting a kiss on your temple. "i suppose it is quite late. do you need me to walk you back home?"

"no, that's fine. you guys have fun though. oh, mr kim."

mr kim looks at you, surprised that you're addressing him after all night of avoiding his gaze. "yes?"

"wonderful works, truly. thank you for the invite." it's the least you can do after shamelessly shitting on his work in front of him.

"why, thank you. i appreciate it, especially coming from my best friend's daughter. let me walk you to the door."

and you don't get a say in it. your father practically pushes you into his best friend, who skillfully grabs your waist and restores your balance. your breathing seems to stop the few seconds he holds you, grip secure and manly on your body. when he releases you, it feels empty. you wish to be held again, manhandled, thrown around, anything by him.

"listen, i'm sorry for what i said." you say, walking towards the door and keeping up with him.

"mhm," he hums, as if it's not a big deal.

"no, really, i just..."

"it's fine." he says, holding your coat in the air for you.

"i sometimes speak before i think," you put one arm in the sleeve, "and i end up hurting someone or embarrassing myself."

"it's really fine." he says, tone calm and low. he helps your other arm in the sleeve, then, as if he knew your newfound weak spot, he places his hands on your waist and turns you towards him. only now, you are so determined to apologize to him that you don't even notice what he is doing.

"in this case, i did both. mr kim, please, accept my apology." he adjusts the collar of the coat, then buttons it up.

"i told you, it's fine." he is persistent.

you are a babbling mess, trying to correct the image of yourself he has created in his head, which couldn't possibly be good. after all, mr kim hongjoong is way too hot to have a bad opinion about you. you continue speaking, and he continues adjusting your clothes. it is not until he firmly grabs your jaw in his big warm hand that you shut your mouth. you look at him, almost startled, and gulp.

"i appreciate honest opinion. you are the only one who didn't kiss my ass tonight, and i appreciate it more than all the compliments i've gotten. so trust me when i say that it is fine. don't ever apologize for your opinions, you're not that kind of girl."

"what kind of girl do you think i am?"

he smirks, then rubs your cheek with his thumb as he brings your face closer to his. "not a good one, that's for sure."

the words shoot arrows to your core, and you suddenly feel hotter than the hottest summer day. you exhale shakily, not knowing what to do with yourself. he looks satisfied with the reaction you gave him, and decides to finally stop teasing.

"watch the road when crossing." he sends you a playful wink, then opens the door for you.

"thank you," you manage to say, and only nod his way before making your way down the street into the chilly autumn night.

the more time you spend with your father, the more you keep hearing about the artist who won't leave your mind anyway. from his stories, mr kim has been spoiling him rotten. no wonder he isn't home anymore. sitting on your father's porch on his swinging chair and taking in the last rays of sunshine before the harsh winter, you can't help but ask about the mystery man.

"how come he's your childhood best friend but i've only met him that evening?"

"well, you were young. you didn't pay any attention to things that aren't crushes, school and gossip."

"wow."

"it's true. you were just a kid, then a teen. and hongjoong wasn't around much during the day. then, he met ramona and moved with her to a different town. and then, while he was trying to save money and start a family, she was jumping on someone else on the bed that he bought with the last savings. they separated, and hongjoong started travelling just so he could be away from the town. he said everything reminds him of the night he found them. and i accompany him, which is really hard for me as you can see."

"oh, you're living a very hard life at the moment, dad. jokes aside, that sucks for him. do i know her?"

your father scrunches his eyebrows, as if he doesn't want to remember the woman. "she's still around. she was at the gallery, that whore."

it surprises you to hear him say such harsh words. he is usually semi-polite with his speech. mr kim must've really gone through something when even your father reacts like this.

"really? why would she come? did she have the invitation?"

"no, of course not. this isn't a big town, words spread faster than anything. she came with her boytoy to make fun of him, but got shat on when she saw how successful he has gotten. she just looked at me, tried to push the statue like a fucking idiot, then left angrily. i don't know what goes on in that woman's mind."

you scoff, then feel relieved that there was a bigger fool than you there. "how did he become an artist?"

"you can ask him that yourself. he doesn't bite, you know."

you take a sip of the peach tea, then set it aside quickly. still scorching. "why would you say that? i'm not scared of him or anything."

"you were running away from him yesterday. i didn't want to ask because i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a little disrespectful towards him. he was hurt."

"did he tell you that?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no...?"

"he'll live." you simply say, then grab your phone.

you type his name in the social app again, hoping to see a new post. and there it is, a brand new post, just twenty seconds ago. simple pictures from that night, the group posing in front of the museum, then in front of various photos. then, random shots of food, drinks, and finally, you.

you, staring at the photo that you loved the most in the hall, taken from the profile. it looks like something that jumped out of pinterest, and not something that he secretly snapped before approaching you. the photo is so good that you might even post it yourself.

art admiring art, the caption says. you're surely reading too much into it. he doesn't mean it about you. there's multiple people in the photos, for god's sake. but no, your delusional self loves to make an appearance, and thus the filthy thoughts of kim hongjoong resurface again. you've been trying to push it down, especially in front of your father, but one night of insomnia, a fresh image of kim hongjoong in a tight turtle neck grabbing your face, and a hand down your sleepwear, you've fallen into the void.

now, you can't escape it. you fantasize about him, day and night, stalk his accounts, even take the longer route to work just to pass by the museum in hopes of catching a glance of him. but all you've gotten is sore feet and more sexual frustration. nothing helps anymore, not a single toy that you have once neatly packed under the bed and were collecting dust up until recently. so when your father asks you to drop some things over at the atelier, you are happy to do it.

when you hear the word atelier, you expect a cozy little room in an old building with wooden furniture and with the smell of paint. but you forget that kim hongjoong is filthy rich. the address your father has given you takes you to a whole wooden cabin just outside of town, surrounded by a light forest. you gulp, realizing what situation you are in.

you are about to be alone with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. you are about to walk into his personal space. and you have to keep your thoughts collected, just in case he is a good people reader. and you somehow feel like he is. you are wet just standing outside, holding the bag of items your father has sent him and shamelessly thinking about all possible ways he would fu-

"oh, hi. i thought i saw someone standing there. please, do come in." mr kim calls from the door, wiping his hands with a cloth. you see stains of paint all over them, and paired with his bulging veins, you realize that you aren't the strongest soldier today and that you have to run home to a certain device as soon as possible.

"good evening, sir. i actually just came to drop this off, per my father's request." you hold out the bag for him to take.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, still standing at the door. "you can approach, the cabin doesn't bite."

you exhale, trying to calm your heart beat. it feels like it's going to jump out and plunge straight into his face. you finally make your way towards him, trying to avoid his gaze. you don't know if he does it on purpose, but it is so intense that it feels like even your hair is sweating. he is looking you up and down as you approach, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. he takes the bag from your hand, seeing that you don't plan on speaking yet.

"and i don't bite either." he smirks, then goes back inside the cabin.

"i wish you did," you mumble, then follow after him.

the place smells like paint, just how you imagined. and it is much cozier than it looks outside. you finally get a good look at him, now that his attention is on the contents of the bag. he wears a halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt, almost see through, black slacks, and has messy hair. as if he read your thoughts, he runs his fingers through it, taming the golden strands and showing off his finely aged face.

"a drink?" he asks, hand reaching for the wine bottle that sits on the table among the brushes. "ah, right. i forgot."

he pours himself a glass instead. you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate it, you really do. but for him? no, you're not like that. not with your father's friend, god no.

"this one is actually very sweet. it doesn't have that much alcohol in it. want a sip?"

he holds his own glass for you to try. under the warm yellow lights, you see the outline of his lips on the edge of the glass. you feel ashamed that you do take the glass, and press the lips on the same outline. it takes every ounce in you not to jump into his arms and make out with him like there's no tomorrow. but you manage, only taking a sip of the dark liquid before returning the glass to him. you keep the liquid inside your mouth, afraid to let it pour down your throat. you are not ready for the stinging and bitter aftertaste. but the longer you hold it, the more you look like a squirrel with puffy cheeks and your eyes tear up.

mr kim notices, and chuckles. not mockingly, but maybe a bit fondly. he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand again. you notice the dried paint on his fingers, and his rolled up sleeves again. his eyes look into yours, and if he wasn't holding your head up so you can look at him, you would surely turn around and leave. it is too much, yet you don't have many options at the moment. to look away, or to maintain the eye contact. he seems to be into it, and so you give it to him. you are starting to be into it too.

his thumb rubs your cheek, much like that night. his eyes roam your face, as if he is memorizing every single detail on it. he licks his lips, and his gaze softens. "swallow for me."

in the dead silence, you can almost hear your sanity shatter. you do as he tells you, with no thoughts in your brain. the liquid stings your throat, but the growing lust inside of you overshadows it. you subconsciously lick your lips, mimicking him. he smiles to himself, noticing it.

"good girl."

what you didn't expect is for him to turn around and sit on the wooden stool, rolling his sleeves further up and getting back to his painting. you stand in the middle of the room, red faced, warm and with drenched panties, shocked at his behaviour. does he do this with his models too? gets flirty, then continues his work like nothing happened? is that how he gets such erotic paintings?

"you can sit on the couch if you want, i'll be done soon. i can drive you back."

you sit on the couch, immediately sinking into it. "how did you know i didn't drive here?"

"you always walk," he simply replies, his back still turned towards you and his hands working on the canvas, "i see you every day when you pass by the museum."

oh.

"what do you say? think you can manage with me for half an hour in here? i heard you don't like me much."

your cheeks are redder than ever, lust combined with embarrassment bringing out the worst in you. "i apologized."

you hear him chuckle. "i know. no harm in a little teasing."

minutes feel like hours as you sit upside down on the comfy green couch, legs resting over the backrest and head hanging from the couch above the carpet. he doesn't pay you much attention, but all of your attention is on him. you watch as his back muscles move when he reaches for a certain paint or brush on the high shelves, as his fingers run through his hair to get it out of his face, as his hand rubs the paint into the canvas. you feel a sensation on your clit, seeing his finger rub the paint in such an erotic way that you think it's not a coincidence.

you breathe out, trying to calm yourself again. you could leave, yes. but you don't want to. you're fine. you'll live. you distract yourself with snooping around his drawers next to the couch. you find a clean set of brushes, unused paint, and packages of clay. you play with the brushes, tapping them like drumsticks, then acting out spells from harry potter, and whatnot. until you decide to dim that little spark of dignity you had left.

you glance at hongjoong again, who still sits on the stool and has made progress on the painting. you flip your skirt over, and move your panties aside. using the soft part of the brush, you glide it over your clit, and shudder at the feeling. he stops for a moment, and you hurriedly put the skirt back in place. he doesn't spare you a glance, but simply takes a sip of wine. when he returns to his work, you also return to yours.

your hand reaches for one of the pillows, and gets trapped under your teeth as your other hand continues teasing you with the soft brush. you bite into the poor pillow, tug it and arch your back, all while pleasuring yourself with kim hongjoong's brushes, on his couch, right behind his back. you go painfully slow, as to not make too much noise. you're driving yourself crazy, and you can't help but imagine what wonders he could do to you if he just turned around.

so close to reaching the release, you close your eyes, and throw your head back further, still in the upside down position. the brush works faster, the soft bristles gently but fast brushing against your swollen clit, caressing your nerves just right. so damn close, just a tad bit more, and-

"put that down."

like frost, his voice makes all the heat and lust disappear from your body. you sit still, eyes still closed, hoping that he will just disappear if you do so. that you will get yourself out of the awkward situation.

"i said..." you hear footsteps, and before you can actually listen to him, he grabs you by your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, "...put. that. down."

his eyes are stone cold, eyebrows furrowed. you gulp, feeling so small and miserable under his gaze.

"now."

your hand drops the brush on the couch, then fixes the skirt. you try to sit up straight, but hongjoong's grip on your face is strong. you stay still, waiting for the scolding to begin. you're terrified, you want to disappear. you want to drown in that bucket of paint that sits next to his stool, and never resurface again.

"what the hell do i do with you? first you hate me, then you like me, then you avoid me. now, you ride my painting brushes? how am i supposed to approach this?"

you don't try to speak. you don't trust yourself with words. you can only sound pathetic, begging for forgiveness again. so you decide to keep your mouth shut and let him be disappointed in you. he breaks eye-contact with you, only to have a sip of his wine which he brought over to the couch. he keeps it in his hand, eyes locked on you again. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, while his eyes roam the state of your body. your chest still rises and falls quickly, coming down from an orgasm denial. flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead with hair sticking to it, almost drool covered pillow with bite marks, and your arousal on his brushes and couch.

hongjoong breathes out his nose, a glint visible in his eyes.

"open up." he says, voice raspy and eyes softened.

you do as he says, opening your mouth until his thumb can comfortably sit in it. he massages your tongue, circling it and playing with it. he takes another sip of the dark liquid, then looks at you with that glint again. he removes his thumb, only to bring his head closer and pour the liquid from his mouth into yours. you swallow it without hesitation, too mesmerized and aroused by the situation. never in your life did you think that drinking from someone else's mouth was going to make you almost orgasm.

"good girl," he praises, voice barely a whisper in the silent cabin.

he downs the rest of it, then throws it on the floor aside. the glass cracking makes you twitch, but he is quick to hush you and caress your cheek.

"s-sir-" you finally speak, not even sure what you want to say.

"yes?" the man replies.

"i- i should-" you stutter, trying to come up with anything that will get you out of there, "i should go."

hongjoong raises an eyebrow, believing your words as much as you believe them. his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks. then, he takes the pillow you had just used and gently puts it under your head.

"comfy?"

"yes...?" you say, confused.

"good."

through the opening of his pants, he pulls himself out, wasting no time in giving it a few slow strokes. your mouth waters at the sight, even if it is upside down. his hard, thick cock leaks above your head, ready to be licked clean.

"open up for me, princess."

you shudder at the nickname, and at the way he gently holds your head so that it is aligned with his cock. you open your mouth once again, slightly sticking your tongue out for him. the man presses the tip against your lips, coating them in pre-cum before pushing past them. he grunts, placing both of his hands on your cheeks to hold your head still. the warm muscle glides against your tongue, kissing the back of your neck. you can't help but imagine how it would glide inside of you, slowly, or fast, gently, or hard. you'll take anything he gives you.

"relax your throat, baby." his voice is raspy and quiet in your ears.

you do as told, trying your best to relax it. as soon as you do, hongjoong seems to lose himself a bit. he slams his hips forwards, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and making you gag around him. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you don't let them. his hand then reaches over to your skirt, flipping it over and exposing your drenched panties still pulled aside.

his fingers find your entrance without teasing, and he dips his finger in so easily. your walls squelch around him, arousal flooding and coating his digits. due to the position you're in, his rough fingers rub your spongy wall exactly how you need it. you squirm under his touch, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't orgasmed yet. he adds two more fingers, stuffing you almost to the brim. you're full of him, in both holes, and a whiny and squirming mess.

he abuses your mouth, admiring the outline of his cock on your neck.

"rub your pretty clit for me, princess."

hesitantly, your fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles and guiding yourself closer to an orgasm. hongjoong's fingers are restless in your hole, pumping in and out, making you moan and whine around his cock. the vibrations must feel good for him, because he throws his head back and groans. entirely lost in the pleasure of your tight mouth against him, he can't help but slam his hips harder and faster, and his fingers start matching the rythym.

you try to beg, but all the words are muffled by his equally abused cock.

"what was that, pretty girl?" he looks down at you, pure ecstasy on his face.

"please-" you somehow manage to say it.

"please? do you know what you're begging for?"

you shake your head. you don't, truly. begging for him to speed up? to slow down? to make you orgasm? or not? you have no idea. you just beg him, to give you everything he has to offer.

the moment is shattered when your phone rings, the word dad on the screen making your stomach turn. hongjoong stops, giving you a moment to collect yourself before handing you the phone. he helps you sit up straight, putting a pillow under you so that you are comfortable. you take a deep breath, who knows which one in the row that day. hongjoong caresses your cheek, as if he wasn't deep inside you both ways just seconds ago. charming, he'd say.

"hello?" you answer the phone.

"hey, kid. did you deliver those things to hongjoong?"

"yes, dad."

"great! i was thinking about inviting him for dinner tomorrow. wanna come and help me?"

"sure thing."

"i was thinking steak, with that whiskey sauce you make..."

you are no longer paying attention, because hongjoong is on his knees in front of the couch. he gently spreads your legs, and looks at you with a mischievous look. you shake your head silently, asking him to not do anything. but all falls in water when hongjoong licks a stripe up your slit and you shake under his touch. your legs close reflexively, but the older man is quick to hold your thighs in place as he devours you on his couch. he makes out with your folds, as if he is kissing your real lips. his tongue teases the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles. he sucks it, tugs it and rubs it, all the things that have your fingers grasping his hair and pulling mercilessly.

his fingers find their way inside you again, curling up so that you get maximum pleasure. a whine escapes your lips, and hongjoong stops everything he is doing. you beg him with your eyes not to stop. you can't go home empty handed. but the man only puts his hand over your mouth, and ever so slowly, slides inside of you. you swallow him so easily, arousal leaking all over him and his couch.

"dad, i really have to-" you gasp, feeling his cock brushing against your sweet spot, "i have to go."

"oh? alright then. so, tomorrow?"

hongjoong grabs your waist, not moving his own hips, but instead slamming your body on his cock and bruising your skin with his strong grip. his hair falls over his eyes, loose strands perfectly decorating his face painted with pure pleasure.

"huh? yes, yes! tomorrow. okay, see you!"

you've never ended a call so fast, and you've never thrown your phone so far away.

"don't hold back, darling. let me hear you."

and that's when you let go. you grip his shoulders, moan into his ear, whine, squirm, whatnot. you certainly don't make it easy for him.

"for an old pervert, you sure are having the time of your life." he teases.

you try glaring at him, but you can barely keep your head up. "just fuck me, please."

"you finally know what you're begging for. only you're not asking properly."

"pretty please?"

"no, you can do better."

you think hard, defocusing from the orgasm chasing for a moment. then, it clicks.

"please, daddy."

hongjoong chuckles happily, and snaps his hips harder into you. "that's a good girl."

something about having sex with clothes on drove you crazy, especially since hongjoong was in his natural habitat and clothing. it pushes you over the edge, seeing him brush his hair back and looking at you with such lust. you're shaking harder than ever, clear liquid squirting out of you and all over him and his furniture. you're in shock, trying to reach your breath, while hongjoong still sloppily fucks his cum into you.

he grunts and hums against your lips, not yet kissing you. which you suddenly find very frustrating.

"you should shit on my art more often, eh?"

with a laugh, you try to cover yourself with the blanket. but hongjoong takes it from your hand, then uses it to wipe the liquid off your body. he tosses it aside, then reaches for his own coat to give it to you. hesitantly, you take it. as you put it on, hongjoong examines your face for any traces of regret. when he sees none, he smiles fondly at you, pressing his lips on top of your hand, just like that night.

"you're a very pretty young woman, you know that?"

"thanks," you say awkwardly.

"you wanted to kiss me, i know. but..."

you roll your eyes, acting unphased.

"...i don't think i'm ready yet."

"you just rearranged my guts, and a kiss is a problem for you?"

he laughs, but not because it's funny, but because you are right. he helps you lay down on the couch, then covers you with the spare blanket. "we'll get there, pretty. right now, i want you to take a power nap before i take you home. got it?"

"got it, sir."

"good girl."

[auroracalisto]

to call you mine.

anthony bridgerton x gn!reader, 2.4k words summary: anthony comes to the realization that perhaps he needs you more than just a few times a month. can be read as a standalone, but it is a continuation of this short fic here. tw: reader comes from a poorer background which is discussed in the first half of this, mentions of scandals, anxious thoughts, idk man i don't think there really needs to be a tw for this. not really edited though so there may be a few mistakes i missed on my initial two read-throughs. :-)

"I beg you," you softly said. "I beg you to stay, just 'til tomorrow." He looked back at you as he finished buttoning up his shirt, grabbing his trousers from the end of the bed and pulling them on rather quickly. "Y/n, you know I can't do that," he said. "As much as I wish I could." He crossed the threshold to be beside of you, taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I do wish I could. But it's not going to happen. Not today." read the full blurb here.

Scandalous. Unworthy. Only the words of a scandalized mind haunted your every step.

Compared to your lover, you were a simpleton—gullible, unready for the truth that the world was so willing to give. The truth that you weren't worthy of Anthony Bridgerton. A Viscount. Someone of your status wouldn't come close to being with a Viscount, no matter how much pining you did to try and get him to stay with you longer than the early hours of the morning.

You knew this. And yet, your heart pined for him. Your heart ached for him.

Day in and day out, you wished for him to stay just a bit longer. Just a bit longer, in your arms. In your bed. In the warmth of your embrace.

Oh, God, what you would give to have Anthony until your dying breath.

But the world wasn't fair. The 'ton did as it would, and if any suspected Anthony had been with you, the repercussions would be immense. Perhaps not for Anthony, but for you.

Your family would never hear the end of it. You would be scandalized until the end of your days.

You would be happy just to be beside of him. To breathe the same air as he.

We never get what we truly want, do we, dear reader?

The sanctity of your bedroom, despite how run down in may be, was all you'd share with Anthony. It seemed as if that was the only moment in time when you could share your body with his, your thoughts with his, your heart with his.

It would never be enough.

You came from a less than savory background. Your mother married for love instead of status, and married a simple printer from the slums of London.

Happy, yes, but the money wasn't what your mother was used to. At times, it seemed to go up and missing, and it would lead to arguments between your parents. As much as they loved each other, it did not help that they could not agree... financially.

But nonetheless, when the time was right and your mother was able to scrounge together enough money for a new dress and a new set of clothes for you, the two of you walked through the 'ton. She'd go and visit her mother, whom would accept her with open arms unless her father was around. She'd walk the same path as the Bridgertons' and Featheringtons' and ignore the questioning looks that were sent her way. She was after all a mysterious woman—to them, at least.

A woman who married for love. A woman who married a printer. How incredulous to think about for those of the 'ton. When it first happened, the scandal was immense.

And now, it seemed, you were in the same boat. Not wanting to marry for money but wanting to marry for love.

Love of the one and only Viscount Bridgerton. The one who could hardly look at you in the daylight, only seeking your comforts when the moon was high in the sky.

Today was one of the days that your mother finally had a new dress. It was quite charming, the deep green fabric complimenting her skin quite nicely. Your outfit was equally charming, in the color of your choice.

"Darling," your mother said, grabbing onto your arm as the two of you walked the path through the 'ton. You could remember the last time you had walked this path, nearly two months ago.

How time had flown since then.

The time spent with Anthony not only haunting your bed but your heart as well.

"Look," she said, squeezing your flesh with warm fingers. She doesn't point, but she nudges you and motions with her head.

Your eyes flickered towards where she directed, and you could feel your heart plummet.

Anthony Bridgerton and his family were out for a stroll. His brother seemed rather amused over something, even going as far as calling his brother's name.

You looked at your mother, feeling rather... ridiculous for how nervous you felt.

"We should keep walking, mother," you said.

"Nonsense! Long ago, I was quite close to Violet Bridgerton. I'd like to say hello, Y/n."

"But mother—"

"—it is not often that I allow myself a stroll through the 'ton. The carriage out is an expense in itself, Y/n. Please. Allow me to say hello to an old friend."

You paused, a soft frown on your lips. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry mother."

She let out a soft sigh and patted your arm, giving a small nod. She continued to walk forward with you.

When Violet Bridgerton spotted the two of you, she began to smile.

She called your mother's name and immediately left her children's side, coming to the woman she had once called a dear friend.

"Oh, my, how lovely you look!" Violet hugged your mother tightly once she had let go of your arm.

You stood to the side, eyes flickering from your mother to Violet. Then, when you believed it was safe, you glanced towards the bane of your existence—Anthony Bridgerton.

He was looking.

Your eyes widened a bit and you quickly looked away.

Just a few nights before had he been in your bed, looking at you with those delicious brown eyes. Just a few nights before had he ravished your body, looking at you as if you were the diamond he had been searching for all his life.

You could barely look at him without becoming flustered.

As Violet and your mother spoke, you hardly paid attention. Only when your mother said your name did you properly look to them.

"Remember Y/n?" your mother asked.

Violet smiled. "Oh, my," she said. "They certainly have grown, hm? I remember when they were just a little thing. How old are you, now, dear? Close to Daphne's age, yes?"

You blinked slowly and mutter out an answer.

Violet heard anyway. "Well," she softly said. "You are a beauty, through and through. Your mother was always quite beautiful growing up. You are lucky to have that with you, dear."

You weakly smiled. "Thank you, Lady Bridgerton."

Violet smiled softly at your politeness. She looked back at your mother. "Come. Walk with my family. There is much I'd like to talk to you about before you go and hide for the next few months, friend."

Your mother didn't look at you as she happily agreed. You would have protested, but the excited look on her face made you hesitate.

You could deal with being near the one you secretly loved if it meant your mother would be happy, even if momentarily.

The sun is high in the sky as the two of you walk towards Violet's family.

You see as Anthony's brother, the one you believe to be Benedict, nudges him rather roughly. Anthony looked to you, face paling at the sight of you.

He had promised you only nights before that you would see him again soon. You supposed he kept his promise, if not crudely done.

You could hardly look at him as you walked along with your mother, looking anywhere but him.

His sister, Eloise, is the one who comes to stand beside of you.

"You are Y/n," Eloise blurted, looking at you with wide, curious eyes. It wasn't often she met one of her brother's conquests—hell, she wasn't even sure if he knew she had found out. Eloise is rather... studious when she wants to be, when it comes to her brothers.

You blinked slowly as you looked at her. "I... I am, yes."

Eloise let out a soft hum, looking over her shoulder. Anthony is staring, saying something out of earshot to Benedict. Eloise then looked out towards the path as they walked.

"It is nice to have a name to the face," she said. "It is often that I only hear your name and have nothing more to go by."

You blinked slowly. "How did you—"

"—he speaks of you," she quickly said. "Often."

"He does?"

Your voice is small—weak, even. As if you couldn't believe the words you were hearing.

"Yes," Eloise said, a humble smile on her lips. "He does."

Benedict Bridgerton looked to his brother, a not-so-subtle grin on his lips. "You act as if you have never been in love, brother."

"I haven't," Anthony said, walking along the path. He looked towards Y/n and her mother as they walked alongside of his mother.

"Why do you lie?" Benedict teased. "It is as if you have never been so in-tune with your own feelings than now. You know you have been in love. You are staring at the very object of your affections, and yet you are letting them slip right through your fingertips."

He looked back at his brother, going to protest, but it dies on his lips. He knows he is right.

He has told Y/n far too many times that he would go back to them—that he would see them soon enough, that he would ravish them on another night.

He has told Y/n far too many times that he needed to return to his family before morning.

He was a Viscount, for god's sake. He could do as he pleased.

But something within him didn't want to do as he pleased just because of that. He wanted more. He wanted more from Y/n, from himself. From the love he knew he could create with them.

He would be better. For them. For himself, and for his family.

Days passed by rather quickly. It was as if your lonely nights had blurred into one. Not that you were complaining. How could you? The longer time passed, the sooner you would see Anthony once more.

In the early hours of an especially difficult night, the knock at your window is unmistakable.

How childish it was for him to throw pebbles at your window to get your attention. It was as if he hadn't grown, despite being at the right age of nine and twenty.

You go to your window and look down, seeing none other than Anthony Bridgerton. You open the window to peer down at him, a deep frown on your lips.

"Anthony—"

"—please, Y/n," he said, almost desperate. The way he says your name makes you melt. "We need to talk. Now."

You blinked slowly and stared at him for almost a solid minute. You reach over and grab a shawl to keep over your shoulders as you walked to the back entrance, where Anthony would greet you like he did so many other times.

But this time, the greeting was a deep and hungry kiss, hands cupping your cheeks as if he'd not had a comforting touch in a hundred years.

You let out a noise of surprise, nearly losing your grasp on your shawl as you kiss him back, eyes fluttering shut.

When he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, he spoke.

"I need you," he said.

"Anthony..."

"No," he said. "You do not understand what I am saying, Y/n. I need you like I've—oh, I've never needed anyone as bad as what I need you. Not just your body. Not just—not just your lips, love. I need—I need all of you."

You stared up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"The last you saw of me. I said you wouldn't be happy with me. I—I hope that it is merely a lie of mine. The way I would burn the 'ton to the ground just to have you by my side—you have no idea what I would do for you."

You just listened as he spoke, wide eyed and breathing heavily.

"You asked me to stay. Stay 'til tomorrow. Y/n, I... I cannot do that unless you become mine. Completely mine. And I—I do not wish to part from you. Parting from you is like parting from a vice that I didn't know I needed. I need you more than I ever believed possible." Anthony licked his lips, looking down at you. His hands cupped your cheeks once more, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "I do not wish to be parted from you any more than I have been."

"And how will you do that?" you asked, gently grabbing onto his forearms as he looked into your eyes. "You said it yourself. You cannot stay with me."

He shook his head, resting his forehead against yours. "I will make it work. I am a Viscount, and my sister is the Duchess of Hastings. The things that I can do will solve all the problems we may face... if you'll have me, of course."

You swallowed nervously as you watched him. "But the scandal—"

"—to hell with the scandals, Y/n," he said. "I would face a hundred of them if it meant that I could see your face morning, noon, and night. I would face a hundred more just to be able to call you mine."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Not as desperate as the one from before, but still just as powerful.

"Please. I know what I said, and I am sorry for being so foolish. You are the one I want, the one I need. My heart yearns for yours, Y/n."

"What are you asking me, Anthony?"

"I am asking you to marry me, Y/n. Marry me, and I will never leave you alone. Not like I have."

"You wish for me to marry you?"

"More than anything I've ever wished for," he softly said.

"Even though I am not of... of proper standing?"

"You are proper enough," he said, a small smile quirking on his lips.

You let out a soft huff, eyes searching his, before you find yourself nodding in return.

"I will marry you, but only with one condition," you said.

His eyes widened a bit. "Yes, of course. What is it?"

"Do not leave my side. When we are together, do not leave unless it is absolutely necessary. I do not know if I could handle it if you were to leave me to my lonesome," you said. "You have already done so, far too many times."

He smiled down at you, pressing yet another kiss to your lips. "I promise."

"No. Swear it."

He pulled back, tilting his head. "I swear it, Y/n. I will do no such thing for as long as I breathe."

tagging: @captainsophiestark @fall-outgirl219 @bowti3esrc00l

[azrielbrainrot]

Baby, You Know That I Miss You

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Phone Sex, Guided Masturbation

Description: You miss your boyfriend terribly when you go visit your parents during break. Luckily, he's more than willing to help.

Warnings: Smut, phone sex, guided masturbation, dirty talk

Word Count: ~2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story is part of my Band AU as well as Kinktober, but you don't have to read their other stories to enjoy this one since it's basically all smut! Also I'm not too sure if this is all that good but we move. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

“I didn't know I was going to be so busy all day,” you say with a sigh, happy that you finally get to relax in the comfort of your own bed, “but at least I get to listen to your voice.”

You were a bit sad that you missed a performance, it was the first one you didn't attend since you became official, but because of it your schedules ended up aligning perfectly and you got to talk to him for a while before going to sleep, when you texted him this morning you thought you wouldn't be able to.

Coming home for break, after what happened the last time you were here had been a bit nerve wracking. You didn't know if you would have to run into Eleanor or Parker, and you didn't know how you would react if you did. Luckily, you hadn't seen them, and you found that when your mother mentioned them you didn't really feel anything besides some mild resentment at the way you were treated, all the anger and sadness that just their names evoked a couple months ago had mostly subsided.

If you were being completely honest, forgetting about your childhood best friend had been a lot easier than you thought possible. You were sure the fact that she hurt you so badly that there wouldn't be any possible way to salvage your relationship helped, since it made forgetting her truly the only option, but most of all you had to thank Azriel and your friends, old and new, for it.

The hardest part of being home for these last two weeks ended up being away from Azriel. Yours is still a relatively new relationship, although sometimes it felt like you had known him your entire life, and so it was hard to not be able to see him for so long when you were spending almost all of your free time together. You missed sleeping in his arms, missed watching him and the boys practice, missed the dates at the small café by his apartment you'd found together, the way he held your hand when you went on walks and, Gods, you missed his touch.

“Want me to tell you a story?”

“Anything is fine as long as it's coming from you,” you admit, his deep whispered voice enough to send a gentle warmth traveling through your veins. Azriel hums, something obviously on his mind. “What?”

“You always liked the sound of my voice,” he muses, letting the words flow from his lips slowly but confidently, knowing it would get a reaction out of you and prove his point.

“Well, yes but that's normal.” You try to keep an indifferent tone, but you know he can easily hear through it. “You're a singer for a reason.”

“We both know it's not just that,” he murmurs, and you can almost hear the smirk growing on his lips, can picture the confident yet alluringly attractive look that always falls over his face when he knows he's affecting you, one that unfortunately only makes it worse. You find yourself squeezing your thighs together, wishing he was right next to you instead of in a different city, so you could kiss that smirk off his lips and let him show you all the different ways he can affect you.

“Don't do that,” you breathe out, almost pleadingly, every hint of sleepiness escaping your body.

“Do what, princess?”

“That,” you say a bit too loudly, calming down and lowering your voice when you add, “not when I'm three hours away.”

Azriel sighs, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest, needing to feel your hands on him as much as you do. If you were in your apartment instead of at your parent's house, you might have gotten out of bed and made your way to his house with how needy you were starting to feel.

“It's a shame that I can't sit you on my lap right now and whisper every dirty little thing I want to do in your ear.” Truly a shame, you think as you press your legs together. “But we can try something else.”

“Try what?”

“Just want you to do as I say,” he explains, desire dripping on every word. You bite your lip, his intentions now crystal clear in your mind. This wasn't something you had ever done or even considered, but you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine at just the thought. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, heart beating wildly behind your ribcage as you hear the rustle of sheets through the speaker.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

You let out a soft chuckle before answering unashamedly, “Yes.” You had taken to stealing some of his shirts to sleep or wear around your house before you even started dating, though stealing was probably the wrong choice of words seeing as he either let you or even gave you some of them himself. His shirts were not only comfortable but they also smelled like him so they quickly replaced your own old shirts you used to wear to sleep before.

Azriel lets out a hum, one that sounds more like a moan, probably lost in the thought of you touching yourself while wearing his shirt before he gathers himself and starts, “Want you to run your hand over your stomach, feel how warm and soft your skin is.” Your hands follow his commands easily, mimicking the way he caresses your skin instinctively, desire growing within you with every brush of your fingers.

“Now push your panties to the side,” he continued, voice getting deeper as he spoke through a clenched jaw, his own hand likely occupied as well, “tell me what you find.”

You knew what you'd find even before your hand traveled down to do as he said, a sigh escaping you all the same when your fingers dive between your folds, feeling just how soaked you were, a string connecting them to your cunt when you pull away.

“Are you wet for me?” The pleasure was obvious in his voice, and you had no doubt in your mind that he was stroking his cock as he spoke, the thought making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding along even though he can't see you, swirling your fingers around and making a mess of yourself, careful to avoid your clit and entrance no matter how bad you need to take some of the edge off, waiting for him.

“Good,” he moans out, “Fuck, you're so good to me.”

If you closed your eyes, you could picture him laying on his bed, sheets thrown off his body and underwear long since discarded to the side, hand stroking his thick cock slowly, moving up and down as he also imagined what you looked like as you followed his orders, and wished it was your hand instead of his own.

“Now take your panties off,” he says after a moment, waiting patiently as he hears you shimmy them off your legs, sighing as you spread your thighs and bend your knee before letting him know he could continue. “Take two of your fingers into your mouth.”

“Azriel-”

“Need you to get them nice and wet for me.”

A whimper escapes you as memories of him saying these exact words rush into your mind. He loved seeing your mouth stuffed with his fingers, your tongue swirling around them as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. You almost tell him you didn't need to get them any wetter, your cunt was quite literally dripping, but you do as he says anyway, tasting yourself on your own fingers, pretending they were his instead, making a show of sucking on them and pulling them out with a pop just so you could hear the groan he lets out, a tremble running through your body at the delicious sound.

“Done?”

“Yeah,” you muse, entirely too proud of yourself for managing to get under his skin so easily.

“Alright,” he rasps, “Now roll them around your clit slowly, pretend they're mine.” You can't help the whimper of his name, your fingers circling your clit just like he said, closing your eyes and pretending it was his rough fingers instead of yours.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “don't even gotta tell you to moan my name.”

“I need to be quiet though,” you remind him, remind yourself. If it was simply your roommate in the room down the hall it would only be a bit embarrassing, but it's your parents instead and them hearing you would be nothing short of mortifying.

“Such a shame,” he muses, the smirk almost audible on his voice. “You always sound so pretty for me, saying my name in that sweet breathy, fucked out voice of yours.”

“Azriel,” you whine, putting more pressure behind your fingers, - you really didn't think you needed much more to cum, especially if he kept whispering in your ear like that, - breathy, quiet moans pushing past your lips despite your warning.

“Like that,” he lets out between pants, fist tightening around his cock as well, “Just like that.”

“Keep talking, Az,” you murmur, your heart stuttering in your chest with every harsh breath you hear through the speaker, wanting to hear it in his voice. “You sound pretty too.”

Azriel only hums, staying quiet for a moment longer before letting out a groan. You hear his head knock softly against his headboard as he leans back, and briefly wonder if he could hear the sinful noises your cunt was making every time your fingers moved.

“Fuck, princess. You have no idea how much I wish I could taste you right now.” You did actually, you were burning with the same need. “Wanna bury my face in that sweet pussy of yours, make you cum on my tongue over and over again until you're all I can taste.”

The moan that pushes past your lips is entirely too loud for the quietness in your house, but you can't help it as the picture he paints assaults your mind. You're reminded of the feeling of his tongue against you, lapping up at your cunt until you're shaking with pleasure under him. Gods, you couldn't wait until you saw him again next weekend.

“Wanna taste you too,” you confess, speeding up your movements, mouth watering at the thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Think I could cum just thinking about you choking on my cock, trying to take all of me down that tight throat of yours.” Closing your eyes and biting your lip, you do your best to keep as quiet as you can, his filthy words sinking into your bloodstream. It felt like you were on fire even though you had long since kicked your sheets off your body, - you didn't think it was possible to be this turned on alone in your room.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, a ridiculously attractive sound, “I think I might.”

“Azriel, I'm-”

“Close?”

“So close,” you pant, right on the edge, your hand moving incessantly, goosebumps running through your skin.

“I'm right there with you,” he murmurs, “Cum for me, princess. Let me hear you.”

You let yourself fall as soon as he finishes speaking, mouth falling open in a silent scream as you're hit with wave after wave of pleasure, a few whines of his name pushing past your lips despite your efforts to keep quiet, the praises he lets out going straight to your head.

Azriel cums not soon after, his own pants and muffled moans of your name echoing through the speaker as you're coming down, making you feel all tingly knowing he just came as hard as you did without you ever touching him, and still your name was on his lips. It's unfair the way this man makes you feel, even when he's so far away from you.

“I decided I'm going to lock us in your room when I get back,” you speak up after you take a deep breath, only half joking.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you continue, wiping your hand on your discarded panties, cringing softly at the feeling, knowing you have to get up and clean yourself up properly. “You're mine for the entire weekend.”

“You can lock us in for as long as you like,” he murmurs, “I'm all yours.”

[wintfleur]

Hiii can I pls request 🌱 childhood home/room with Charles Leclerc or lewis and female reader? Loads of fluff and maybe nsfw?

For Charles like praising but if you write Lewis maybe an age gap, praising, pocessive? Soft but dominant for both and talking the reader through it with an extensive aftercare? Like all giggling and cuddling etc would loveee that

౨ৎ it’s called charm baby !

°. — pairings ( Lewis Hamilton x female! Reader )

°. — summary ( your boyfriend knows how to make you feel better, after dinner with him meeting your family doesn’t go well )

°. — details ( g; fluff & smut. w; smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), cursing, hair pulling, I think that’s all?. wc; 2.7k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ childhood room

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I COULD NOT STOP GIGGLING AS I READ THIS NONNIE YOU ARE A GENIUS !!!! This was my first Lewis fic, and I just loved writing for him so thank you for sending in the request, I really hope you enjoy this !!! I’m still kinda new to writing smut so I hope you guys like it <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Well that went better than i expected” Lewis mused after he heard the sound of you closing the door behind you. His eyes were immediately drawn to your walls, taking in every detail with a fond smile. He always wondered what your childhood room looked like; he'd seen a few pictures of you in the room, but it was different from actually being there. He didn't get a chance of getting a good look earlier when the two of you had brought your shared luggage up, your youngest brother who was only a few years younger than you, whisking him away before he could really take everything in. 

You could hear the slight of sarcasm in his tone making you feel even worse on how your parents ⸺ no how your father treated him at dinner. The two of you decided to finally come visit your parents now that Lewis is on break. You were a little hesitant on coming, knowing how your father could be, but Lewis was convincing. Your mother was as sweet as always, asking questions about his career and giving his family good wishes, your two brothers were eager to talk about his career as well, your niece was absolutely smitten with him, and your father . . . completely uninterested. You knew he wasn't happy with you and Lewis's age-gap with how much he voiced his opinion about it, but still you thought he'd at least try . . . for you. 

“I’m really sorry lew, we shouldn't have come” you frowned as your eyes followed your boyfriend of a year around your room. He was taking in every detail, everything in your room made sense to him, everything was so you. Lewis looked away from your collection of posters over your desk and moved to sit on the edge of your bed facing you, a smile on his lips. “Don't say that baby, i know you really wanted to see your family, and I've had a great time.” 

“Give me a few more days and I'll get your dad to like me” Lewis promised as he leaned back on his hands, a small giggle leaving his lips as he saw the clearly old stuffed bear perfectly sitting on your bed. You feel your heart warm at his words, he was always so selfless, willing to go through anything just so he could see a smile on your pretty face. You swiftly lock your door and walk over to your boyfriend, the corner of your lips twitching up into a smirk when you watch how his eyes immediately drop to your swaying hips. 

“You are quite charming” You whispered as you placed your hands on your boyfriend's shoulders, feeling the smooth silk of his shirt as you climbed up onto his lap, the two of you keeping eye contact as he looked up at you. Lewis smirked as he heard your coquettish tone that he loved so much. The dress he bought you in Brazil riding up your thighs at the new position and he was eager to move his hands to caress your bare thighs, chills decorating your skin at his touch. 

“Oh, am i?” he teasingly asks you even though he was well aware how charming he is with how much you reminded him, a cocky smile on his lips. Lewis watched as you playfully rolled your eyes as you moved your hands to his nape, your breath hitching when you felt him slide his hands under your dress and up your thighs. You playfully chided him with a click of your tongue and a small shake of your head “Cockiness doesn't look good on you Lewis.” 

That's a lie. It looked really good on him . . . 

“Fuck but you do” lewis quickly breathed out as he looked up at you, swiftly moving one of his hands out from under your dress and tangling it in your hair at your nape and pulling you down into a wet kiss he’s wanted to do all day. A small sound of surprise leaves your lip that he's quick to swallow, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek, the soft caress of your thumb on his jaw was completely different from the passionate kiss the two you were sharing. 

You absentmindedly grinded against your boyfriend's lap, a mix of a moan and a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction against his bulging length and the feeling of his grip tightening on your hair. The two of you were both so desperate for each other's touch, having to be good and keep your hands to yourself all day in front of your family. God it was torture, especially seeing how good he looked. The lingering touches he left on your waist as he walked past you, or the soft touches on your thighs under the table. He knew what he was doing . . . 

You reluctantly pull away from your boyfriend's addictive lips, panting against his lips as you're slow to open your eyes. You lock eyes with lewis darkened ones, your thighs clenching around him when he untangles his fingers out of your hair and uses his thumb to wipe the spit off your tingling lips. “Please” your tone is desperate and whiny. You didn't have to say anything else; he knew what you wanted, and your eyes were begging him to fuck you.

You knew you were playing with fire, but your room was far enough from your parents, and you were too needy to really care. Lewis groaned as he felt you grind your hips impatiently against him, a smirk forming on his lips. He could feel you throbbing even with three layers of clothing between the two of you. Lewis chuckled and rested his hand on your collarbone, his thumb teasingly tracing the column of your throat, knowing that you were just itching to have him wrap his hand around it. His hand under your dress gripped your thigh “You think you can be quite hmm? Be my good girl?” 

“I promise lewis, i'll be your good girl” you promised as you nodded quickly, starting to get impatient as you felt his hand slowly move up and down your thigh, the cold chill of his rings against your warm skin sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't wait anymore, and he could see that. The look in your eyes, the impatient rolling of your hips, 

“I know baby, you're always my good girl aren't you” Lewis whispered as slowly trailed his hand up the inside of your thigh. You let out a small huff of frustration, just wanting to feel his fingers calm that ache between your thighs. But you were quick to close your mouth and bite your lip at the stern look lewis gave you, he had no problem with you being needy, but he crossed the line at you being bratty. But he’ll take pity on his pretty girl, he moves his hand right to where you were needing him the most. A gasp leaving your lips at his touch while a small chuckle leaves him at how damp your panties were, his pointer finger teasingly rubbing your clit through your panties. 

“Mhm yes lew” you whimpered and leaned down to lay your head on his shoulder, softly biting his silk shirt to keep your moans at bay as he dips his fingers into your panties, covering his fingers in your slick and smoothly slipping two fingers inside your throbbing hole. You wrap your arms around Lewis muscular shoulders, a whine leaving your lips at the sudden stretch. 

Lewis smiles cheekily and looks down at you, your lips parted as sweet and quiet moans left your lips as he continued his slow movement, massaging your tight walls. Leaning down to whisper in your ear, his beard tickling your face, but you were too lost in pleasure to say anything about it “Awe darling, you're just sucking my fingers up, so tight.” 

“Feels so good” You moaned out, tilting your head to start kissing and sucking your boyfriend's godly neck, desperately needing to occupy your mouth so you wouldn't be moaning out praises and curses at the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Lewis let out a quiet grunt at the feeling of your lips on his burning skin, sucking and nibbling. And the way you gently rutted against his fingers and the choked-out moan you let out when he curled his fingers up, made him want to lay you across the bed and fuck you until you couldn't take it anymore. 

“Lew i need more ⸺ please fuckkk i need more” you begged, letting out a sharp gasp when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, his hand covered in your slick. Lewis smirks and locks eyes with you, your eyes glazed over. His poor baby was already fucked out and he hasn't even taken his cock out. Lewis kisses your forehead and slowly pulls his fingers out of your sopping hole and softly patting your clit as he whispers.

 “Only because you asked so prettily.” 

“Fuck darling, you take me so fucking well” Lewis got out between his grunts, his thumbs dipped into the dimples of your back as he holds tightly onto your waist as he thrusts into you from behind. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted as his gaze was fixed on where your bodies connected ⸺ loving how good your pussy swallows him in. He slides his hands down to hold your ass, his fingers sinking into your skin and spreading it open slightly to watch as his dick covered in your slick disappears in your needy cunt. 

A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he notices your trembling thighs “Feels good, huh?” 

“Feels so good” you mewled in pleasure, your arms were stretched under the coolness of your pillows, and the soft fabric of your duvet against your cheek and naked body felt so good against your burning skin. Your face was smushed against your soft pillow, hoping that it would help muffle your uncontrollable moans that only got more frequent the harder his thrusts got. 

Lewis pulls up your hips and adjusts the pillow under your hips, the new angle causing him to pound into you deeper. A loud moan leaving your lips at how deep he was stretching you ⸺ you felt so full. The sound of your skin meeting creates a lewd noise that makes you feel like you were in a trance, being lulled by the rhythmic sound. You pull your pillow closer to you, whines and moans leaving your parted lips as your body jerks forward from the hard thrusts “It's too much!” 

Lewis leans down as he continues fucking into your aching cunt, one of his hands softly rubbing up your back before tangling his hands into your hair and making a makeshift ponytail and pulling you up against his chest. Your back arched and one of your trembling hands moved behind you and dug your fingers into the skin of Lewis thigh so you wouldn't fall, a delicious hiss leaving his lips at the sting he welcomed. “You can take it baby ⸺ we both know you can” he whispered huskily in your ear, trailing off into a taunting coo, both of you thinking back on the countless times of you fucking yourself on his cock. 

“You gonna cum for me love?” Lewis moaned, feeling the way you clenched around him, the feeling bringing him closer to his own peak. “Yes lew!” you whined as you tilted your head back against him. Lewis kept his eyes on you taking in the beauty of your side profile as he continued to fuck you. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and your eyes were glazed over with pleasure, your mouth parted as quiet moans slipped past your lips. 

“I’m gonna cum  ⸺ fuckk” you cried out, but it came out muffled from lewis hand quickly covering your mouth, your head tipping forward as you felt that rope inside you snap, letting you fall into your own desire. Everything went silent for a second and you swore you lost vision as you came undone. And like a chain reaction, Lewis spilled himself deep inside of you, not being able to hold back once he felt you cum around him. Quiet grunts leaving his lips as he tilted his head back in pleasure. 

Your trembling body fell forward on your bed, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of him slipping out of you while a hiss left his. You snuggled your face into your unruly sheets as you tried to catch your breath and calm down from the intense orgasm your boyfriend led you to. Lewis’s sweaty chest heaved as he panted and also tried to catch his breath, his eyes closing for a few seconds. 

He looks down at your tired body and places his hands on the bed at the sides of your body, softly kissing your back a few times a smile on his lips at the sight of your sweaty body. You let out a quiet groan as you rolled over in bed, your glazed over eyes looking up at your smiling boyfriend. Lewis leaned down, placing his hands by your head so he wouldn't crush you with his body weight. 

“You did so good f’me” lewis praised you as he placed gentle and soft kisses all over your face. You smiled and shut your eyes at the soft feeling of his lips, one of his hands moving to gently caress your side. His head falling into the crook of your neck to softly kiss. You hum in satisfaction at his soft and sweet touches and whisper “up for a bath?” 

Lewis placed a few more kisses on your shoulder and collarbone before sitting up on his knees between your spread legs. You smile and sit up as well, placing your hand on his abdomen before placing a soft and meaningful kiss over his heart. Lewis looked down at you with such love, taking your hand on his chest into his and placing a kiss on it before whispering “Always with you darling.”

Lewis helps you out of your bed and into your bathroom that was connected to your room, his hands flipping the switch while you were already moving to the shelf in your bathroom, grabbing a few candles and setting them on the edge around your big white bathtub. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss your bathtub the most about your childhood room. 

Lewis rests his hands on your waist as you lean down to turn on the water, hot water soon pouring out and filling the bath. You giggle when you come up, your back coming flush against his chest. Lewis was quick to place a few kisses on your shoulder and whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked. You turn around and playfully scold him with a grin on your face “You're such a flirt.” 

“I prefer to say I'm just charming” Lewis smirked, using your words against you. You bit your lip and nod your head, touché. You let Lewis get into the bath first, and then you. Your body nestling between his legs and his arms wrapped around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. The two of you enjoyed a few minutes of peaceful silence as you relaxed in the warm bath, your muscles relaxing from the cardio. 

“I love you” you broke the silence as you tilted your head to look back at him. He could see the reflection of the candle burning in your eyes, and your lips were so red from all the bruising kisses the two of you shared. He brought his water-soaked hand and cups your cheek, bringing you closer and resting his forehead on the side of your head. Yes, the dinner didn't go the way the both of you wanted, but he wouldn't have changed anything because it brought the two of you here . . . in that soft moment filled with nothing but love and vanilla candles. 

“And i love you “

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh im nervous about this 🤭 please tell me what you guys think 💋 )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @toasttt11 )

[adelliet]

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

FORBIDDEN DESIRE

Summary: Your father's friend has returned to his hometown after a few years, and you finally met him, but despite your father's clear warning, you are dominated by desire rather than reason.

Warning: MDNI 18+, age gap (17 years and 40 years), unprotected sex (p i v), fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), handjob,

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You came to the kitchen door and waited for the guards to open it. When they did, you gently knelt down as a gratitude and then sidled up to the room. There was a table, full of sweet buns, grape wine and various types of fruit or pastries. On the end of the table sat your mother and father, laughing and drinking liquid from an iron cup. You'd bet all your gold that the liquid is a red wine, that your parents love so much.

As soon as they saw you, all their attention landed on you. You wished them good morning with a smile on your face and put one sweet bun on your plate. "How did you sleep darling?" your father asked with a sweet tone in his voice.

"Good" you answered firmly, but keep trying to stay nice and keep a warm smile on your face. This answer of yours may have been sufficient for your father, but certainly not for your mother. Mother senses are way more powerful than father's, as is known.

"Is everything okay sunshine?" this time your mother asked, bothering you from eating in quiet and peace. You chewed the bun and nod, not even looking at them. You were so focused on your plate that you didn't even have time to look anywhere else.

After your movement, which indicated that everything was supposedly fine, there was a moment of silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of cutlery occasionally touching the plate. An awkward silence began to spread through the air very quickly, and even the guards at the door began to chat among themselves.

The silence was suddenly broken by your father's inconspicuous cough, which was followed by a question you prayed you wouldn't hear for at least a day. ,,And what about men?" Did you find anyone that could be your future husband and follow my lead?"

Your lips left a long loud sigh. "Not yet father" this time, your voice was bitterly cold, you were obviously showing how you don't like this topic and how it makes you uncomfortable.

"Darling, you'll be a woman soon, your mother was getting married at your age and look where she is now!" Your father kept trying to cajole you and force you into marriage, but this was the last thing on your mind. "Trapped with a man?" you answered, making your father lost words and your mother's face cringe in anger. "I am not trapped sweetheart-" "Oh really? So you can go whenever you want wherever you want?"

You raised your voice a bit, but just enough to make the atmosphere thick. Your mother started boiling with anger, and you really make it difficult for her to stay calm and in her character. "Young lady, be careful with your words-" and just when your mother wanted to calm things down, you bursted out.

"You think this is what I want?" Live for marriage and forget what freedom feels like? You think I live just for men?!" You got up from your seat and slapped your hands aggressively on the table. "You're a woman!" You will never know what freedom feels like! The only thing you will have is your husband's safety!"

The words came out of your mother's mouth as easily as if she had been preparing for this moment years ago. They were sharp without any sweetness, making you froze in a place, not moving a single muscle. When you looked at your dad, he was just as shocked as you. Your mother still had that angry look on her face as she yelled at you the words that would wake you up from your sleep and haunt you in your worst nightmares.

After a few more seconds, your mom finally realizes what she has done, as she looked over to her husband. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, but before she could say something, one of the guards rushed into the kitchen with a simple words ,,He's here".

Your parents immediately stood up from their seats and looked over to the open door. Your dad looked excited and so did your mom. You were so confused. Who is he and why was his presence so quick to please your mother and father?

There were so many questions running through your head, and like everyone else, you were eagerly looking at the door, waiting to see who would appear. It didn't take long before you finally saw him.

A tall, large man stopped as soon as he got inside. His iron armor clung beautifully to his massive body, and the parts of his skin that could be seen were covered in blood. His hair was black and wavy, looking as fine as sheep's wool. His beard beautifully accentuated his masculine cheekbones and the gray particles only added charm. His look was frowning and stiff until he saw your parents.

At that moment, he raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth lifted. He called your father's name, deep husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. He opened his arms and your father ran towards him. They locked arms together and slapped each other on the back.

You just stared at them breathlessly, still unanswered questions drowning in your head. Before long you felt a gentle hand landing on your shoulder. "Marcus..." your mother said quietly as she kept her eyes on them. You looked over to see her calm face. "Best friend of your father..." now this was the answer you wanted to hear.

After the two finally pulled away from each other, the man's eyes landed on you. The smile on his face slowly faded away and he barely blinked. You held eye contact and even though you were standing quite far away from him, you could feel goosebumps rising all over your skin. His brown eyes looked so kind yet hungry at the same time.

"Marcus…" your mother finally stopped you and you looked down, coughing discreetly. Marcus also woke up back on planet earth and greeted your mother with the sweet smile he had before.

"We missed you" your mother said after she pulled away and held his massive strong arms. "You too, my favorite people" he said, looking into your moms face, unlike you, you couldn't take your eyes off Marcus.

It was as if the whole area became silent and everything was blurry, except for him. Your head automatically filled with million scenarios and you had to take a deep breath to breathe in the presence of this warrior. You scan his body and scars, pity began to flow through your body and you wanted to heal his every wound.

After a while your mother finally looked in your direction with Marcus and you froze in place. His gaze made you feel a vibrating feeling between your legs and you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

"That's our daughter" your father noticed the awkward silence and decided to introduce the two of you. As Marcus made his way over to you, the vibration became more intense and you trembled like a bird. Marcus noticed your nervous attitude so he decided to, to calm you down a bit by grabbing your hand and gently kissing it, looking at you the whole time and honestly turning you on even more.

"My pleasure to finally meet you" he said as he let go of your hand and popped his chest like a proud lion. Finally? What does he mean? You've never heard of this man and you've never seen him, you would definitely remember that.

Marcus noticed your confused expression and immediately looked over to your father for an explanation, but he didn't do anything to explain it to you, he just decided to move on to another topic. As always.

"After all these years," he approached Marcus again, grabbing his strong arms and looking at him proudly. You kind of wish he would look at you like that one day, ,,…we need to throw a welcome soiree!" He screams so loudly, that the echo reverberated throughout the hall to the second tower.

Marcus was just smiling and you could tell it wasn't a sincere smile. Your mother immediately joined in and nodded in agreement. As soon as they finished talking, everyone started decorating the kitchen and making arrangements for meals.

You didn't want to oblige anyone, since you wouldn't be much help anyway, so you just snuck away to your room. When you walked past Marcus, who was having fun with your dad, his smell was indescribable. You've never felt anything like this from a man before. It evoked dominance, lust and respect, a respect that not just anyone deserves, but Marcus does.

As soon as you closed the door behind you and entered your room, the first and only thing you could think of was Marcus. How divine his body must be under all that armor, how strong his hands must be from all that warfare, how his fingers must be trained from his handling of the sword.

Just the image of him makes your legs shake and your stomach felt weird suddenly…weirdly good. You sat on the bed and just stared out the window, thoughts of Marcus still lingering and your imagination was much wilder than before.

You lay down on the bed with a loud groan and closing your eyes, as you bounce a few times on the mattress. You had no idea what was going on, with your head and your body. You couldn't even tell if you like it or not, the only thing you knew one hundred percent was, that these feelings are just because of Marcus.

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There were only a few hours left before the party started. All this time you tried to sleep and run away from all those new and scary feelings, but it still didn't work. You couldn't fall asleep and when you were really close to it, Marcus would always appear in front of you, even with your eyes closed. That's why you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting it all eat you up. When the hour finally approached, you were so relieved.

You heard muffled talking from behind the kitchen and decided it was time to leave. You opened your wardrobe and immediately knew what to wear. You've never worn these before, not because you didn't like them, but your father didn't like them and you know very well why.

They are way too revealing, but you think that he wouldn't say anything about them today, he wouldn't want to sink you in front of his best friend, right? With a devilish smile, you placed them on the bed and suddenly heard a knock on the door. You said open in a soft tone, looking at the door. Very slowly they cracked open and there was none other than your dad inside. He carefully closed it behind him and leaned against it.

You could tell by his face that he looked quite worried. You didn't want to anger him even more so you discreetly stood in front of the bed to cover that provocative dress. “Is everything okay father?” you asked, trying to figure out what was going on. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I need to talk to you…about Marcus”

Your eyes widened a bit but not too much. It's quite understandable that he'll chat with you about him and maybe even explain why Marcus said he was finally happy to meet you, even though you've never heard of him. "I saw the way you look at each other and this must never happen" he didn't wait another second and spewed this at you.

You frowned at his naivety and the fact that you could have something more with Marcus. After all, you are still young bud, while he is a man of experience and has been through so much...yet this is not reason enough to erase him from your mind.

"Are you serious?" you asked your father arrogantly, folding your shoulders to your chest. "Yes, I'm serious honey. You know, Marcus is not the man for you" his voice sounded so convincing but you still didn't believe him. "You are the one who asks me about men every morning and when one comes along, you ban him?!" you raised your voice a little and threw your hands around. It just doesn't make any sense.

Your father looks down and took another deep breath. "Marcus Acacius is a warrior, a gladiator. He wouldn't have time for you and at the same time you would worry if he would survive. Also, his reputation with women is not flattering, even though he's the same age as me, he doesn't want to settle down. He loves freedom and fun, but you need someone who knows his priorities, do you understand?"

You were surprised by all of this information. Marcus definitely looks like a gladiator, but that's not the thing that scared you the most. His reputation with women? After all, he doesn't look like a man who would pay just for the experience and relief with a woman...or does he?

You tried to find the words to answer, but you couldn't think of anything. You had nothing in your head, just one man who seems like a poor old whore. Your father noticed your shock and even felt a little sorry for you. "Look, I only want the best for you, but Marcus just isn't the best" his words drove more and more wounds into your heart. It painted evil qualities into your imagination and even though everything seemed rosy after Marcus arrived, now is black and white and much worse.

"Do me a favor" your father slowly finished his monologue. "Stay away from Marcus" and with that he left your room leaving you completely devastated and destroyed. You felt tears running down your face but immediately wiped them away with your hand. A young lady like you can't cry, and certainly not because of a man. You didn't care about men until now, so how come you care so much about Marcus? You're not in love after all, are you?

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You walked into the main room where the party was being held. Everyone was already here, having fun and laughing, the music in the background pleasantly vibrated your eardrums and you tried to focus only on fun and freedom, nothing and no one else.

Even though your dad gave you a strict ban on any interaction with Marcus, you wore your sexy dress. After all, you have to use this opportunity one way or another. Of course, in that dress you immediately had the attention of almost all men and women.

It was eerily quiet for a moment when you walked in, even the music stopped playing. You don't like being the center of attention, so you tried to think of something to stop it. You slowly knelt down to greet and it really worked, the music started playing again and everyone was talking with each other. Sometimes, however, some would whisper in their ear while looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore them.

You came to the table with food and picked one grape berry. “Really interesting taste-” you heard a gruff wolf's voice from your right and quickly turned in that direction. Marcus looked even better than he did in the morning, he was well groomed, wearing a gorgeous white robe with gold accessories and his arms still looked so eatable. However, Marcus' words were stopped by another manly voice from the left, which was already familiar to you. "What do you think you're doing?!" your father was downright furious, looking you up and down. When you turned to look at him and revealed that Marcus was standing behind you, your father miraculously calmed down.

Marcus and you waited for your dad's next words. He was trapped, and that was exactly what you hoped would happen. You could feel how much he wanted to yell at you and scold you, but he can't show such an aggressive side of himself in front of his best friend, even at a party in front of hundreds of guests.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Marcus, come with me for a moment" he said and turned around thinking that Marcus was already following him. He looked a little surprised but the mischievous smile still remained on his face. As he passed by you, he gave you a subtle wink and you had a close enough to pass out on the spot. Who would have thought that a mere wink would almost give out your knees?

You watched as your dad pulled Marcus into a corner and said something to him. You could just see Marcus' face expression and couldn't hear what they are talking about. Sometimes he looked at you, but you couldn't describe what was going through his mind or what your dad was saying to him, you could only guess.

"That dress looks good on you" you heard a familiar female voice next to you. Your mother was looking in the same direction as you, but she was smiling. Her compliment only comforted you for a moment as you were still paying attention to the two men.

You let out an exhausted sigh and popped another berry into your mouth. "Marcus is a good man, honest and strong. You would be really safe with him" your mother's words caught you by surprise as she was of a different opinion than your father's. "But dad-" you wanted to say that just the thought of you and Marcus being together was destroying him but your mother interrupted you.

,,I know. He is worried about you, after all you are still young and Marcus is too old for you. You have to understand him, he's doing it for you" she patted your shoulders and walked away to her friends. She left you alone again and you were even more confused than before. You didn't know what to think about all this. Everything started to be suddenly too loud, the music and people's conversation gave you a headache and you had to get away quickly before you passed out.

You quickly stepped outside into the fresh air, trying to catch your breath. You leaned against the wall and all your emotions suddenly came out. Tears fell from your eyes one by one and you couldn't stop it. You wanted to run away, scream, you just wanted to be relaxed and free, but these are apparently too big demands. You sat down on the ground and curled up into a ball, hoping no one will find you in that state. What would they think of you?

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You have no idea how much time has passed since you ran out. But you don't care as long as no one is looking for you. You felt good, the cool wind blew through your hair and pleasantly refreshed your skin. Still sitting on the ground, you had your eyes closed and tried to focus only on the nature and the sound of the birds, even though it was quite difficult since you couldn't hear through the music and the sound from the party.

Suddenly you heard footsteps and in no time you were back on your feet. Chest popping, back straight and chin up. You were waiting for someone to show up around the corner. You expected your father, who is sure to be furious, or your mother, who is calmer but still worried. To your surprise, it wasn't neither of them.

"Where did you evaporate?" Marcus asked standing in front of you so he could finally get a better look at you in that unique dress. You opened your eyes in horror and your words got stuck in your throat. "I-I…" you tried to create a meaningful sentence, but how could you, when you were standing in front of the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life.

He noticed your struggling and couldn't help but giggle a bit. "Why are you nervous little dove?" he asked so softly, that the tone of his voice went through your every vein. The weird vibrating feeling between your legs started again, and you couldn't help but put your thighs closer. ,,I needed some fresh air" you finally whined in a shaky and low voice, but still trying to keep your attitude and show that you are not so nervous at all, but the truth was different.

"Understandable" he nodded his head and the corner of his mouth lifted. He stared at you for a moment until he joined you. He stands next to you, leaning against the wall watching the scenery with you. Even though it was quiet, you loved his presence next to you. You felt the feeling of security that every woman longs for.

"You don't want to enjoy the celebration?" you finally broke the ice and asked with all your courage, but you were still too nervous to look at him. "No, although it's surprising, I don't really like attention" he breathed out and you were quite surprised by his answers. ,,Really? Father was saying something else...” you said the second part of the sentence more quietly but Marcus heard you, despite the soft chatter.

,,Indeed?" you could feel his eyes on you, but you still tried really hard to keep your cool and not look at him, even tho you really wanted. His scent was so irresistible and you lost yourself for a moment, before the long silence slapped you on the head. ,, "Oh yes, he said you like to enjoy freedom and fun, even...with women" you weren't sure if you were supposed to mention the women, but somehow it just came out of your mouth without you being able to control it.

He scoffed and let out a small laugh. Now it was the perfect time to look at him. You saw his head shaking, like he doesn't believe what he just heard. "It's a surprise that I don't know about it myself" you frowned incomprehendingly and waited for an explanation.

When your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat and you stopped breathing. You saw his eyes up close and they were so lovely, just like his hair, face, beard, body...you were so obsessed with him. Is it even allowed to be so obsessed with a man you barely know and your father forbade him? Definitely not.

"Your father said things to protect you, to make you think bad things about me" This was exactly the answer you were hoping for, that it was all just a fabrication and that Marcus was a good innocent man. "Oh" you said and looked down at your feet. "And apparently he told you to stay away from me, am I right?" Marcus touched your arm softly, just by two fingers to make you look at him again, and it worked. He looked like a sad puppy who deserved to be scratched.

You just nodded in agreement, eliciting a soft sigh from Marcus. "He told me that too..." he slightly pushed himself away from the wall and stood in front of you again, this time much closer. Your back hit the wall and you were pinned to it, as Marcus stood only a few millimeters away from you, your chests almost touching. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened, your cheeks began to heat up and the vibration was much stronger than ever before.

"He specifically forbade me to have anything to do with you..." Marcus continued and his finger ran over your skin, from wrist, to upper arms, to your shoulders, stopping at your collarbones where he just make small circles. This was your first physical interaction with a man, and despite how scared you were of it, you melted at Marcus' touch.

His other hand gently squeezed your waist, making you gasp a bit by the surprise. He pulled you closer to his body, now you were definitely touching each other and you could feel something poking you into your thigh. You wanted to look what it was, but Marcus hypnotized you with his gaze and you just couldn't take your eyes off him.

"But I can't help it" and with these words he leaned closer to your face, your noses were touching and both of you were waiting to see who would kiss the other first. The situation was tense, you didn't notice anything or anyone around but Marcus and his warm breath against your wet lips.

You took a deep breath and the movement almost forced your lips to touch his, but it didn't. You were still waiting, Marcus' hands were now firmly on your hips and he had full control of you, he could do whatever he wanted with you, and you would let him without any word.

You were frozen but you fought so hard not to kiss him. Why? Because you really liked this game. You like all of this and want as much of it as possible. But Marcus is patient enough and as much as he wanted to break the barriers too, he didn't, instead he did something much hotter.

He released one hand from your waist and slowly slid it under your dress. You whined at the sigh of his touch, his massive hands surrounded almost your entire thigh. You were still face to face, noses touching but still no kiss, just touches. Really dangerous touches. He didn't stop in his journey under your dress and continued higher and higher, just where your throbbing cunt was.

You groan and moan, but quietly to not let someone caught you. Marcus loves how his touch drives you crazy, but you still had no idea what came next. When he finally found your sweet spot where you needed him touch you so badly, he didn't hesitate any second and insert one of his fingers into you. You throw your head back, breaking your kiss game but you didn't care.

The pleasure was indescribable. You saw sounds and felt colors, you bit your bottom lip to silence your heckling and crying, but it still didn't quite work. The way he curled his finger inside you made you wild, your legs shaking and your mind went dizzy. You immediately dug your fingers into his strong muscles for the better posture.

,,Marcus~”

You moan as he sped up his pace. He didn't take his eyes off you. You looked so beautiful like that, so weak, so hopeless. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Marcus added his thumb, making tiny circles around your clit. You've never experienced that pleasure like this before. You fight for your life not to scream his name and to stay on your feet.

He was stretching your walls while provoking your wet tiny friend, which if you just lightly touch, it will wreak havoc in your body. You felt the urge to go to pee, to burst everything that is inside you out, you were just so close to your orgasm. You had no idea what was going on, what it was, or why Marcus was so good at it, but all you could focus on was him and his fingers inside you, that were driving you crazy.

You looked at him as a guardian angel who would free you from the tense feeling that had accumulated in you over the years. Marcus knew you were on edge, your hole wrapped tightly around his finger and your legs automatically joined together. He smiled and continued in his motion, till you finally came onto his finger. A load moan came out of your mouth and your heart was beating at an incredible speed.

You opened your eyes and looked at Marcus, all sweaty and tired but relaxed. You both laughed for a moment and you wanted to rest until you heard quick footsteps coming your way. You didn't even have time to thank Marcus when you saw your dad and the guards emerging from the edge of the wall.

Marcus quickly let go of you and stepped aside, but you weren't sure if your father saw you so close to him or not. What you saw, however, was an enraged father who was boiling with anger.

He watched the two of you for a moment before he ordered the guards to take you back and grabbed Marcus by the shoulder. "Dad it's not what-" you wanted to save it, but it was too late for any words now. "I'll meet you at the party" he said and walked away with Marcus. You kept watched them, until the guards grabbed your arms and dragged you back to the celebration. You tried to break free from their grip, but it was impossible.

"Next time, you should obey your father's orders," said one of the guards, and you looked at him concerned. You wanted to say something to him, but you were already at the place. They let you go and closed the door, at which they then stood.

Shocked by the whole situation, you just stood there watching all the people having fun. Before long, your mother came to you, hugging you tightly and stroking your head. "Sweetheart, do you know how worried we were about you?" with tears in her eyes, she still didn't let go of her embrace. "You barely noticed I was gone" you replied arrogantly and gently pushed your mother away. You felt sorry for her, but right now, fury was controlling over pity.

You angrily walked over to the food table and stuffed one berry after another into your mouth as if you hadn't eaten in a month. After a while, the door you came through opened and your father and Marcus walked in. They were both smiling, even though you knew they weren't just talking outside. When Marcus noticed you, he gave you an apologetic look before walking to the other side of the hall. The only thing on your mind right now was a question, why is life so unfair?

"Hey easy there sweetheart" a manly voice pulled you away from staring at Marcus and you immediately turned to the direction the voice was coming from. A tall man with brown hair and a beard, he looked slimy and even smelled like that. Just his presence so close to you bothered you. You ignored him and ate a few more berries before he talked to you again, "Are you in a hurry or just really hungry?" he laughed like it was the best joke of the year. You just rolled your eyes in annoyance and wiped your hands into your dress. "Actually yes, I'm in hurry. Pleasure to meet you" you politely avoided him and quickly rushed to the other door, the one that lead to your room. You quickly opened them and breathed a sigh of relief as you were in the hallway, only to find the man was following you.

"Come on angel, we barely know each other" he said and still followed you. "I'm sorry but I'm not interested" you still politely rejected the man again and quickly walked towards your room. But that didn't stop him. You don't even know how, but suddenly he was right behind you, grabbing your wrist and pressed you against the wall. You started to panic.

"Please let me go!" you begged and hoped he would stop. You had a million scenarios in your head of what would happen, what he wants from you or what he will do to you. But his look says it all, he doesn't want to just talk to you. "You'll love it, don't worry" he said with a sickening smile on his face and started to undo the waistband of his pants. You started to cry and you knew that screaming for help was futile. He could strangle you with his hand or just cover your mouth and no one would be able to hear your cry for help. This is not how you imagined the loss of virginity, this is not how you wanted it.

Just when it seemed like this was going to be the most traumatic day of your life, Marcus burst into the hallway. You both turned your head to look at him and you finally had hope. You smiled but you were the only one. Marcus worried face transformed into furious in a second, as he saw that man standing too close to you, and your eyes full of tears.

"Get lost!" We have our moment here!" The moldy sweaty man yelled at Marcus, thinking he was really going to let us go. Of course he didn't. "If you don't let her go now, you'll face the consequences" he warned the man as he slowly approached to you. As if every step of his made you feel more and more happy and relieved.

"Jesus Christ just leave us alone idiot!" Marcus ran out of patience and ran after the man. He grabbed him by the shirt and forced him to back up to the other side of the hall, directly across from you, where he pinned him to the wall.

"Now listen to me carefully, you touch her one more time and you won't have such a clean face after that, is that clear to you?" you watched Marcus warn the man and you really respected him. When Marcus gets angry, he can be really scary. The bastard didn't say anything, he just looked at Marcus in horror and didn't know what to do.

"Is it clear?!" Marcus shook him aggressively and the man immediately nodded his head. He must shit his pants right now. "Now get lost!" he ordered and finally let him go. The guy didn't wait for anything and ran back to the door as he fastened his belt. When Marcus and you looked in his direction, you saw your dad watching you. Neither of you noticed him until now, you had no idea how long he had been standing there staring at you, but apparently long enough for him to change his mind about Marcus.

Your father came over to Marcus who thought he was in trouble again but instead of yelling he got a warm hug. Marcus was confused just as you were, but it was a nice picture to see them hugging again. After a while, your father finally released Marcus from his arms, admiring him with a smile. "I was wrong. I acted immaturely and rashly” came out of your fathers words and you were just shocked. "You are perfect for my daughter.”

With those words, you and Marcus smiled and you quickly ran towards them. ,,Are you serious father?” You asked incredulously, but your father nodded. "Yes, even though your age is intimidating, you can protect her and that's all that matters” You looked excitedly at Marcus and he looked back at you. "Thank you," Marcus added, giving your father one last smile before looking at you and kissing you without any warning. It was a long, passionate kiss that said a lot more than I love you. It said I want you.

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Celebration of Marcus return was over, and the two of you just couldn't wait anymore. You were in your room, lips glued together and small moans leaving your mouth. The kisses were so wet, hungry and full of lust, that you had. "From the moment I saw you" Marcus said quickly between the kisses, trying to catch his breath. During this he slowly forced you backing up until your feet hit the bed frame. "I wanted you".

He said before gently pushing you onto the bed, making you bounce a bit. You smiled at his flirtatious words before his lips touched yours again, both of your saliva mixing together, making an amazing tasteful fluid. His tongue pushing into your mouth so roughly, almost choking you.

His hands traveled all over your body until he finally found the buttons of your dress, which he immediately used and very aggressively removed them, almost destroying them. You gasped as the cool fresh air touched your naked skin and Marcus needed a minute to admire your body.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked desperately and immediately lunged after you again, his male instincts running wild as he grab your breast and squeezed, making you whine his name really loudly. You were in holy heaven, every touch of his on your body turned you on more and more and just the thought of how he had made you feel before, drives you crazy.

"You've never touched yourself, did you?" he whispered in your ear while slowly driving his finger down to your hole. You couldn't answer him, just a quiet whine came out of you. "Don't worry, that's why I am here for" he said before he put a finger inside you, your back arching and you firmly grab the pillows on the bed.

,,Oh my god~”

You groan and look at Marcus, totally crazy about your moves. Your hips were automatically moving against Marcus' hand, trying to bring more friction. He did as your body wanted, and added another finger, stretching your walls and making your fluid leak a bit.

Your moans were a lullaby for Marcus ears, making sure that he is doing his job well. His fingers teasing the inside of you, the juicy sound echoed throughout the room. But suddenly, he stopped and pulled out his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss, confused and overwhelmed. You looked at Marcus, watching him what he is doing. He knelt in front of the bed with a devilish grin on his face and moved you closer to him. More specifically, your vagina closer to your face.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked, leaning your elbows on the bed so you could see Marcus over your body. "Relax, trust me" he said and you did. You really trust Marcus, and definitely after he stood up for you. No one, no man, no human ever did something like that for you. You respect him a lot, but even more now that he's sticking his tongue inside you. You suddenly winced and grunted. His wet tongue entered into you so lightly, it was like a natural lubricant.

Instinctively, you grabbed Marcus's wavy hair and tugged on it as he slid his tongue in and out of you, making you whine his name. He kept his eyes on you, watching you as his victim, which you were in this situation. He held your hips so you wouldn't move too much and have the full experience as it should be.

His nose bumping into your clitoris from time to time, making your vision blurry. You heard the ringing for a moment and all your senses stopped. The only thing you could feel was Marcus's tongue inside you, touching you that spongy spot, which is making you getting close to realise.

After a few more movements of Marcus' tongue inside you, you couldn't take it anymore and you came right into Marcus' mouth. You gasped, trying to catch a breath as your legs shook. Marcus drinks all of your juices and you ride the orgasms off by his big nose.

You close your eyes, trying to calm yourself and your body down, while Marcus stands up from his position and gets on top of you. He knew how tired and exhausted you are, so he wanted you to catch a little break. He was giving you sweet little kisses all over your body and most often on your tummy, making you laugh a little. "Relaxed?" he asked and you jerked your head up to look at him. "There is more?" you asked in shock and Marcus just smiled at your innocence.

He nodded and crawled more up, so that he was face to face with you. His muscular body covered you all over, his scent tickling your olfactory cells. You just caressed his face. You felt his beard gently scratching you against your palm. It didn't hurt, on the contrary, it was pleasant.

“Are you ready for true passion?” He hummed and you looked at him in shock. You probably knew what he was pointing out, but you still weren't sure. You nodded your head a little apprehensively, but Marcus immediately calmed you down with a passionate kiss.

It wasn't long before Marcus' clothes were on the ground. You didn't care where, the main thing was that it was gone and you could finally feel his hot body on you. You couldn't help it and your hand traveled all over his body, your brain trying to remember every part of him, muscle, abs or just mole. He was perfect.

As the two of you kept touching yourself with hands, you felt something really big poking your inner thigh, dangerously close to your core. You slightly and gently moved Marcus away from you to take a look, what is it that provokes you so much. Your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the sight of Marcus' cock. He was big, massive and literally begging to fuck you already.

His precum already leaving from his pink tip, his veins were really filled and all you wanted to do was touch him, which you did without permission. You gently touched him with your fingers and Marcus immediately responded with a soft exhale. "Careful" he warned you, watching your hand on his penis. You took Marcus's warning to heart and followed his veins really gently with your index finger.

"You know what to do?" another heavy exhale from his lips, and you stopped to look at Marcus's face. You shook your head, a little afraid that he would laugh at you, but that didn't happen. Instead he took your hand and helped show you how. He carefully covered your hand and forced you to wrap yours around his cock. Your touch really turned him on but he had to hold back. "That's it, now you're gonna do this" he started moving your hand slowly, up and down with a slow pace. You quickly check Marcus face, that was squeezed and his teeth were dug into his lower lip.

"Perfect, clever girl..." he whine softly and throw his head back. You continued in the motion that he shows you, really focused while checking his face from time to time. You could tell that he likes it, but you wanted him to love it. You decided to speed up a bit and wrap your hand more tightly around him. He moaned your name, gods name and just sweet things you couldn't even register. One of his hand was on your waist, squeezing it, making you jump a bit.

"Oh my..." he moaned, digging his fingers into your skin while his lap was rocking against your hand. "Fuck!" He screamed and reached his climax, spraying a white gooey liquid all over your stomach. You were horrified but in a good way, you liked these new things you were exploring more and more.

After Marcus finally came to his senses, he smiled at you and stroked your cheek. "You learn fast little dove" you giggle by that cute nickname and your cheeks were so hot suddenly. "But we are still not done yet" and with these words he slowly began to insert his cock into you. You knew it was big but no one prepared you for this pain. But Marcus was a respectful man and always waited for the pain to pass and then he continued. This was repeated a few times until he was finally fully inside you.

He kept saying nice things to you to calm you down mentally and physically and it really helped. When he was 100% sure that you were fine and ready, he slowly began to move his hips back and forth. The pain immediately turned into pleasure, his cock slightly brushing your folds and it make you wanted more. You started moving your hips along his, giving him a clear sign that you are ready for more. Therefore, he quickened his pace and his emphasis as well.

His balls were clapping against your ass, the juice sound started being loud again but not as loud as your moans and gasps. You clawed at Marcus's back with your fingernails, they must left a bloody mess. Marcus was squeezing your hips so hard that he was sure to leave some bruise there, but neither of you cared.

He was stretching you so hard, finding and hitting that sponge spot again, and you immediately knew you won't last long. You felt so tight, like someone was strangling you down there and in your lower abdomen until Marcus exploded and rammed deep into you all the way to his balls. This was your last straw and just seconds after his orgasm you reached it too.

A few dirty words were exchanged until Marcus collapsed next to you. Both of you were tired, exhausted, sweaty and struggling to catch your breath. You felt amazing, this was the best thing you could ever experience and you can thank Marcus for that.

You turn your head towards him, his eyes were closed and his nostrils big. He was sleepy already but you weren't surprised, you were also ready to fall asleep. You crawled closer to Marcus, waking him up a bit. He immediately assumed his position as a caring partner and covered you both with a blanket. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him and you purred appreciatively. "You're amazing darling" he whispered and placed a soft kiss into your hair. If this is the security that your father was talking about, then you have more than enough.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[yandere-wishes]

Okay I have another idea for the Batwoman!fam au

Imagine if Damian’s darling wasn’t good at training at the League of Assassins, sure she is the child of two assassins who were hand picked to make her, but she is also being trained to me a wife and mother, and those two roles don’t always line up. She just can’t make herself kill, no matter how hard she tries. She is a perfect fit for being a vigilante because she can fight and extremely well at that, she just can’t kill.

Or another idea, because Cass was made to be the perfect weapon and, there is the idea of her parents being skilled assassins, so like what if Cass and Damian’s darling were sisters, half sisters maybe or full blooded, but just they never knew it because they were raised away from each other and they had no idea because there was no reason to know because they were born for very different purposes.

-lots of love❤️🪽

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Darling, I love how your brain works. It's true Damian's darling would be a perfect vigilante. Strong but kind. I think maybe that's what draws her to Kate in the first place seeing someone so strong, so skilled yet still riddled with compassion. For the first time in forever she doesn't feel weak or misplaced, she's finally found another like her…

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ As for her and Cass being sisters, that would be a cool dynamic!! Lord knows I have the BIGGEST crush on David Cain (I want to be sandwiched between him and Deathstroke so BADLY) so having him be the reader's bio dad would certainly be interesting. I mean reader wouldn't know it, she never needed to know it. Her whole world was supposed to be Damian, he was the only relevant thing in her life Talia made sure of that. I guess that could add to the reasons Kate was so eager to take her away. She wanted the poor girl to at least experience having a semi-normal family. I seriously wish there was more media for David Cane, it would make it easier to incorporate him into the story lol.

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Anyway have my rambles on "No Killing" (Corvid) reader and the tortures she gets put through thanks to Damian~❤️❤️

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Song: Crimson and Cloverby Joan Jett

There's a contradiction festering within you. You try to gulp it down, to drown its bitter taste with rich irons and salts. But the dreaded thing won't die, it screams and wails into the night. The iron rots between your teeth, pricking needles into your tongue.

Satisfy or defy. You don't know which is which any longer.

Damian holds your hand as you lurk through the foreign palace, his fingers are curled tightly against yours squeezing at random intervals as he twirls his sword. "I've beheaded their king, rotten old man didn't even put up a fight." you offer him a sweet smile, as silent congratulation. Not that he needs it, no, Damian Al'Ghul doesn't need to be reminded of his worth, his merit. Instead, you do, you need to follow the rules laid out, down to the miserable T. If you don't, well, you wouldn't know what else to do.

There's a soldier writhing on the cobblestone floor, he spits when he sees the two of you when the emerald green of the uniform registers for an omen of death. Damian scowls "You dare disrespect the demon's heir?" he's about to slice the man's neck when he stops. The sunrise reflects terribly off the silver of his sword.

"I apologize," he says turning stiffly towards you, there's specks of pink blooming across his cheeks. As he shifts from one foot to the other. "You may have this kill, my lady."

The way he calls you his, makes your blood run cold. It's like being reminded to breathe, being reminded of rigid realities.

"I-I don't really feel-" he cuts you off by dragging you closer. Pushing you down until you're kneeling above the man. Damian slips his hunting knife into your palm and laces his fingers with yours once more. The oriented blade comes down bursting the jugular vein wide open. The soldier's blood spills onto your face painting you in that unholy crimson shade.

You feel the bile rising, the acid burning as you try to hold it in. Damian gingerly laps at the blood on your cheek. His warm tongue feels like the embers of hell melting through your flesh. He pulls you onto his lap, giggling sardonically as he kisses the gore clean, teeth pecking at your neck and collarbones. Wringing the skin in definite signs of himself. You stay frozen, suffocating, you don't bother guiding his hands or whispering love stories into his ears. You don't do as you were taught. Instead, you stand still. Waiting for the world to pass.

The sun oozes from the horizon. It looks like a blood fountain. You feel sick again.

That night you claw at your throat until the blood sweeps out. The tears don't stop, they flow down your pretty face until your eyes are as red as the soldier's crimson blood across the blade. Your nails pick at the lovebites, at Damian's essence across your skin. You wish you could peel them off like stickers. You wish you could be clean again.

You pray Damian dosen't notice your eyes when he sneaks into your room. But he never does, instead he nuzzles into your neck lulled off to peaceful sleep. Never once haunted by the lives he's taken.

You try to close your eyes. To sleep away the dread. But his body reeks of the insufferable substance, crismon and iron. Your most hated endeavor. You push your face into the pillows, trying to ward off the scent.

By morning the smell will cover you too. That perfect murderous perfume. Shouldn't you love it though? Shouldn't it remind you of your husband-to-be?

Master Talia says your father was one of the greatest assassins the league has ever fostered. His skills rival Batman and Deathstroke. You don't like how the information coils across your brain, slithering into the neurons filling you with anguish. How your veins pulse with the blood of a killer.

'You did this to me' you want to scream when your master's back is turned. 'You broke me!' Your master may be the only parent you've ever known, but you still can't stifle the blame. She had you birthed to be a contradiction. A mother and a killer. She had her finest birth an anomaly just so she could ensure her son a lover. You hate her for it…

And yet whenever she hugs Damian you are reminded that she loves you too. That she raised you to be her place holder once her time has come. She is in everyway your mother and in every way your tormentor.

You can never be her. You can never stomach the blood.

The problem with Gotham, your master says, is that it always finds a way to send its filth to the league.

You watch tentatively as she lands a kick across the intruder's back. Watch as she stabs her blade between the woman's ribs and claws at her eyes with her nails.

Damian stands beside you blade drawn. He's ready to engage upon command. Ready to protect. But Talia never calls her son, there is a personal vendentate in the way she mauls the woman.

The woman never once draws her blade. The batwoman with the blood-red hair doesn't kill. Her stance, her punches, her kicks. They hold no mortality. They are used in defense, offense, to hurt and protect…

But they are not made to kill. She is not made to kill.

She is just like you.

There is a bat who flies into your window on nights when the Demon's hire is not lurking inside your chambers. She tells you tales of a land shrouded in darkness, where a single king quarrels vigorously against the evil permeating his kingdom. She speaks of him with such respect, with a stiff adoration like resisting patronymic psalms. She tells you how brave you are for sparing blood. She says you are like her, like him, in every way. Singing lullabies of a world where blood isn't shed. Where justice reigns supreme.

She makes your chest swell with hope.

"I had a nightmare" you confess. The lady in red…and black -Kate as she insists you call her- only kneels down, her bloody smile pleasant, calming.

"What kind of nightmare?" she asks with a tone you can't quite place. "I was drowning" There was a pause, four heartbeats, yours and hers before you continued. "The water was red, I could feel them pulling me down." She looks at you with slight terror ringing across her eyes.

She cradles your cheek in her hand before pulling you close. It's not the bone-crushing hugs Damian gives you. The possessive vice of a dragon who knows you belong to him. It's not the rare ceremonial pat on the back that Master Talia offers from time to time. No, it feels warm and worried. Tight and soft and all so sweet. There is no warning no definitive. It is simply meant to comfort.

It feels like love. At least you hope it does.

Damian pulls you into an empty room after your training. His lips are on yours biting the chapped skin, licking your teeth, and pushing his tongue inside. "I missed you" he mumbles sternly as he cradles your body closer.

He's been gone all week. Accompanying his Grandfather on a mission in the east. You don't ask for details, because you know that he will tell you. He will spare no macabre piece as he tells you how he snuffed the life of those Master Ra's has deemed sinners.

You can still smell the blood on him as he rakes his fingers through your hair. Kissing down your shoulder and arm. Sucking and biting the pulse point on your wrist. "I love you" he admits through a sigh. Like a gulp of air after being submerged for far too long.

"I love you too…" you lie.

"You could come back with me" she offers one night sheepishly biting her lip and looking out at the crescent moon. "Back to Gotham I mean, you'd be safe there, happier too I think." You pause for a moment, staring at her, she doesn't smell of bloodshed or duty. Only lavender and responsibility.

Kate Kane, you roll her name around in your mouth, letting the letters morph and crack until they almost spell "Mother".

You nod.

In Gotham, you thought you were free. Free from that atrocious scent of blood. Free from the man you didn't love. But now the demon's heir has come to Gotham.

Damian's hands wrap around your neck, it reminds you of the times you used to hold hands. His voice is distorted all anger and accusations.

He no longer omits that gruesome aroma. But you know better, you know who's holding his leash. You know he'll snap the moment his father looks away.

He's violence born, and violence raised. That will never change.

You're in an alleyway having been confronting a thief mere moments ago. Routine patrol, until he had showed up. Emerged from the shadows just like in your nightmares. You'd thought he'd tackle the thief, play Prince Charming, and try to "protect" you. But instead, he'd targeted you. Thrown you to the ground and screamed as he laid punches across your body.

"Why did you leave me?"

It sounds so innocent, so juvenile A little boy with a broken heart. But your bones start to bruise under his fists. And you know this is no little boy, no, this is a monster.

Damian gets up quietly, he stalks closer and closer to the terrified man. You hear the haunting sound of a sword being unsheathe, close your eyes and wait for the misreable sound of blade against flesh. But it never comes, instead there's a painful tug on your hair, pulling you up.

Damian wraps your hand around his sword, fingers entwined his breath hot on your neck. "Please don't" You beg between sobs. "I have to" he mutters as he brings your hands down slicing the man from his shoulder to his hip. The body falls and so do you.

Damina kneels next to you, wrapping his arm around your body and tucking your head beneath his chin. There are blood drops on your face, the odor invading your senses, suffocating you until your breath hitches far too tightly.

"Kill me, please just kill me and end this." you plead looking up into his sparkling emerald eyes.

"Darling I can't. I wouldn't. You were born to be mine, it's your legacy, your destiny. You are mine, no matter how far you run, no matter who you masquerade as. You are mine and you always will be."

You bury your face into his chest, crying harder and harder, silently you plead for your mother to find you to save you. You don't want to belong to the demon again…

I have an interesting twist I'd like to implement into the story for who her mother could be…. But we'll talk about that some other time.

[sofiawritesstuff]

PLATONIC

part 9

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: suggestive

part 8

IT'S HERE!!! I apologise for the lack of uploads, I was in Spain and visited family in Italy, my car broke down and the plane was delayed. I was then in work for 5 day straight and I'm in for a further two nights too. No more excuses I will be back more consistently.

-------------

You with your arm wrapped around Lando's waited at baggage claim at the airport. While he called his brother updating him on how long the two of you would be, you decided to go onto the F1 gossip page.

f1gossippage

f1gossippage Lando already enjoying his week off with girlfriend Y/N L/N. They were spotted this morning at the airport and appeared to be heading back home to the UK. Y/N also posted a picture with her holding a man's hand with the caption "home for the week".

-

"Well we've made it to the gossip pages again, a fan must have took a photo of us at the airport" you show Lando your phone, he looks down and your phone, humming kissing the top of your head.

As the two of you waited for your luggage to appear on the carousel, Lando tried to wake himself up by looking as the gossip pages "Cute picture of us though"

"At least Zak will be happy" you shrug "This is our week, let's not think about him. We will spend the night at Max's apartment, you will go to your meeting, I will pick you up and we will head to my parents. Just us, no Zak"

The noise of the carousel drew your attention to the suitcases arriving, luckily for both of you, your suitcases were the first ones out. You watched as Lando effortlessly lifted both cases off and nod towards the exit.

"Don't worry, I'll take it" he tells you as you go to take your case from him "Thank you, is Oliver outside?" you asked "Mhm, he has the car parked right outside"

The two of you walked out of the airport you saw Oliver stood outside the car "Ollie!" you smile running towards him "Hi sis, how are you" he smiles, hugging you tightly "I'm good how are you, how are my girls?"

"We're all good, the girls are desperate to see you and their Uncle Lala" he teases Lando ruffling his hair "Get off" Lando laughs hugging his brother

"You two have a lot to answer for by the way, Mum has seen the photos and I think her heart could have exploded with how excited she was that you two were finally together" Olivier says putting thr cases in the car

You felt your heart drop, Lando's mother had been like a mother to you for as long as you could remember, someone who had been longing for you and Lando to get together.

You and Lando looked at each other, frowns on both your faces "What?" Olivier questions looking between the you "Uhm" Lando starts "Listen, we're planning to go to Mum's and Dad's tomorrow night. We need to talk to everyone about what's been going on. Can you bring Savannah?"

"Okay, I have just felt my heart fall to my stomach. What's been going on?" he asks getting into the car "We will explain everything tomorrow, I promise you will know everything"

The drive to Max's apartment was nice, empty roads and hearing all about the children's lives, Lando's racing and your work place. You had the music blasting until Lando fell asleep on your shoulder.

"Still a big baby, I see" Olivier smiles, looking in the mirror "Yeah" you run a hand through his hair "He's exhausted, he has only just started to get a goodnight's sleep. Hopefully being back home he will sleep as good as the girls"

"Are you going to Canada?"

"Yeah, that's what my meeting is about tomorrow at work. My boss wants to see me just go see how I'm doing and about working from different places, trying to get a few clients. Get a few more posts on social media"

"Do you still like the job?”

“I like how flexible it is, my boss is literally so amazing but sometimes I wish i didn’t have to work during the weekends, I like just being able to put all of my focus into Lando”

“He appreciates everything you do for him you know, that one time when he was feeling down about the race and he came home to his favourite dinner and snacks. He messaged me telling me how grateful he was for you”

You blush, kissing Lando’s head making him snuggle into you more “He’d do the same for me”

“So are you going to tell me what’s been going on, or do I have to wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s best we tell everyone together” you admit as he brings the car to a slow stop “I understand, if there’s anything you need. Just give me a call”

“I will. Now do you want to do the honours of waking him up or will I?” you ask with a smirk “Give me the keys and I will take your cases inside. He will be less cranky waking up to you rather than me” he jokes, getting out of the car

You watch as he drags the suitcases to the door, you gently shake Lando awake "Baby come on, we're home"

He groans mumbling, wrapping his arm around you "Lan, we can sleep again in about ten minutes"

"That was a quick drive" he says waking up "Yeah for you, you slept the whole hour. Are you ready to go inside. Get some sleep in a bed"

He nods, leaning over giving you a quick kiss just as his brother gets back in the car "You're awake" Olivier says loudly making you two of you pull away "Yeah, thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow" Lando says quickly getting out the car

"Thanks Ollie" you rush out following him. He takes you hand rushing you inside. Closing the door behind him.

You enter the apartment, following Lando straight to the bedroom "It feels good being home doesn't it?" you tell Lando watching him take his shirt and trousers off getting into bed

"Yeah. I love Monaco but it feels good being here. Now come on get into bed"

--

The next morning, you woke up in just your underwear and the shirt Lando was wearing the day previously. You weren't used to the 7am wake up calls, you hadn't been for the past two years.

"What time is it?" Lando asks waking up "Sh, sh, sh. Go back to sleep. I'm going to work. Pick me up at 1pm okay?" you hold his face, kissing him quickly leaving the bed.

You head towards the hall, getting clothes from your suitcase, and got ready for the day. Just as you were about to leave Lando comes into the kitchen fully clothed and putting his shoes on.

"You ready to go?" he asks grabbing his keys "What are you doing up?"

"Taking you to work, there's no way I am letting you get a cab at this time in the morning, plus i'm going to drop our cases off at my parents"

"Thank you but I need to come back here after work to get changed anyway"

“All sorted, I’ve left clothes out for you” he says proudly. You walked into the bedroom to see a pair of jeans and shirt left out neatly on the bed for you.

“Thank you” you smile coming back through to thee kitchen. You grab your bag and follow him out the apartment, getting into the car

"How are you feeling about the meeting?" he asks reversing out of the drive "I'm not nervous about the meeting but I am nervous to go back into the office, so many of the girls hate me"

"They don't hate you"

"No they do, they hate me because you're in my life and not theirs. They only want you for your money and to fuck you" you scoff, he laughs putting his hand on your legs

"They will never get the chance baby, the only person that will ever get to fuck me in that office is you" he squeezes your leg sending you a wink

You look out of the window, hiding your smile. Watching as the weekday morning traffic slowly building up.

“Well I’ve definitely not missed this” you mumble turning your hand to Lando “Neither have I, how long is your meeting today?”

“Mark said I would be done by 12. Meeting starts at 10. I don’t think it will even last that long”

“Well I will be waiting for you at 11:45 where I drop you off. Do you want anything brought in for lunch? I can stop at the cafe just around the corner”

“No, no. I’ll be okay and get something at work. Get yourself something though” you smile rubbing his shoulder

“Will you though?” he asks turning the corner into the car park of your work “Yes. Thank you” you say taking your seatbelt off

Lando looks at you, staring out the window. Takes your hand in his in attempt to calm your nerves “You’ll be okay, I know you will. Go in and ignore anyone that has a problem with you. You know everything you need to do”

“Thank you” you smile “I love you, have a good day and I will be waiting here for you when you’re done”

“I love you too”

He leans in, giving you a kiss to the lips before kissing your head “Have fun” he says as you leave the car, you close the car door, waving at him through the window.

Entering the office, people come up to you greeting you, including your best friend Robert

“I’ve missed you so much, this place is hell without you” he hugs you tightly “It can’t have been that bad” you laugh sitting down at his desk

“Oh it is, I have so much to tell you but first tell me how you’ve been?”

“I’ve been great to be honest, I’ve absolutely loved travelling with Lando. Getting to experience his first win, we’ve tried so many different foods and countries. It’s been so good. We’re staying with his parents this week before heading to Canada”

“Yeah i’ve noticed how much you’ve enjoyed your time with Lando. I’ve seen the photo of you two kissing. He’s finally your boyfriend?” Robbie squeals

“Yeah, he is” you lie staring at the man across from you “So how did it all happen? I need all the details”

Before you can say anything Mark appears at the meeting room doors, signalling you both over. You thanked him in your head. Glad you don’t need to make up another lie.

“Tell me later” Robbie smiles, leading the way to the office “Okay” you nod

Everyone sits around the table, the few girls that you didn’t like sat across from you “Good morning everyone, thank you for those who aren’t here everyday for coming in. Also a big welcome back to Y/N who has been doing an incredible job getting clients in every country she’s been too. How have you been doing Y/N”

“Yes great thanks, so far I have gathered 12 clients and I'm off to Canada next weekend so I'm hoping to meet a target of fifteen then"

"And how are you going to do that attached to your boyfriends hip?" Emma asks with a smirk on her face "Well funnily enough I do have a life outside of my boyfriend, I'm not with him 100% of the weekend, I also use Thursdays to gather clients and have meetings with them throughout the weekend"

"Well we all appreciate your efforts Y/N, we only require you to work eight hours a day Monday to Friday so we are grateful for the overtime that you do and the calls that we have had since you've been away are great"

The hours fly by and before you knew it, it was 11:50. You gathered your belongings, putting them all in your bag. "So how are you getting home? Do you need a ride?" Robbie asks handing you your charger

"No, Lando is outside for me, we're heading back to his apartment so I can shower and then going to his parents for the week"

"That sounds nice" he says opening the door for you, you talk about the week ahead while heading down in the elevator "Well there's Lando and it looks like he brought you lunch too" he nods over to Lando leaning on the car

"Hey Lando!" Robbie waves "Hi Rob" he waves back "How was it?" he asks leaning down giving you a kiss "Better than I thought"

"I'm glad to hear, you had a slice of toast this morning and I know the most you'd have in there was a coffee so I got you a sandwich and a drink"

"Thank you" you lean up kissing him, he walks around opening the door for you "What a gentleman" you smile getting into the car.

part 10

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