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rafecameroninterlude · 4 months

Note

rafe + breeding kink

warnings: singledad!rafe, older!rafe (maybe like late twenties-early thirties), nanny!reader, rafe’s son calls you mommy, fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy and having kids, creampie

a/n: breeding kink was so heavily requested omg, i love everyone who left a req for this <3 i definitely went a little overboard lol

“well, that worked like a charm.” rafe smiled down at you and his son who was currently cuddled into your side. “i don’t want to move away from him.” you pouted, running your fingers through the little boy’s hair. you had been doing this weird thing to rafe’s heart everytime he saw you caring for his boy, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

despite having been rafe’s nanny for nearly three years now, you still found yourself getting flustered every time you caught him staring at you. whether it was you folding laundry, or bending over to dust the entertainment center, all those little things were starting to add up into something both of you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“do you think we could talk?” rafe helped you up from his son’s race car bed, a worried expression overtaking his features. “yeah, of course, is everything alright?” you didn’t miss the way he kept your hand in his, leading both of you downstairs after closing the door to little ray’s room. “yes, i actually wanted to talk about my salary-” rafe was quick to cut in.

“throw me a number and you got it.” he dropped your hand, ushering you to take a seat next to him. you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, i don’t want more pay; quite the opposite, really.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “you’re not quitting are you?” he heard his heart beating in his ears at your lack of response.

“no, god no!” you placed a hand on his arm, “i’ve been looking for another job because i don’t want to be paid for taking care of ray anymore..” you met his gaze, running your nails against his skin. “why?” rafe couldn’t wrap his head around your words, his eyes darting across your face.

“you know, i’ve been taking care of ray since he was two, and he’s going to be five next week.. i’ve grown so close to him.” you smiled. “caring for him, cooking for him, playing with him, loving him, it isn’t a job for me.” you didn’t realize you were crying until rafe wiped your cheek ever so gently. “you love him?” rafe’s voice was barely above a whisper, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“i do, rafe. i love him so much.” you sniffled. “he called me mom the other day and i felt terrible ‘cause i bursted into tears on the spot, and he thought he made me sad but i was just overjoyed.” you laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i want you to know that i’m not trying to take the place of his mother, i would never do that..”

rafe knew ray called you mom. it wasn’t too long ago that ray said, ‘mommy made my favorite pancakes!’ when rafe asked him about his day and made his heart damn near stop in his chest when he heard the word fall from his son’s lips. “you’re the closest thing he has to a mother. i don’t even know how to thank you for that.” he leaned in, embracing you tightly.

you two stayed like this for a couple moments before you pulled away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “i called mrs. anderson to set up a playdate with ray and her son, and do you want to know what she said?” you stifled a laugh as rafe relaxed into the couch. “what?” he admired the way you lit up while talking about ray.

“she said that ray was a little more on the wild side and that it would be in her son’s best interest if they didn’t hang out anymore.” you watched as rafe shrugged. “that little nerd was too boring, anyways.” you gasped, slapping his chest playfully. “rafe!” you whispered, both of you covering your mouths to keep from being too loud.

he quieted down, sighing to himself before looking up at the ceiling, you following suit. “i do worry about that sometimes. i feel like ray needs more of a permanent friend, like a sibling..” he trailed off, glancing at you only to see you were looking at him already. “a sibling?” you raised your eyebrows. “how would you go about that?” you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the smidge of jealousy that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“want me to explain to you how babies are made?” rafe scooted closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “no need, i’m well aware.” you waved him off. “yeah?” he guided you on top of his lap, both of you looking at each other with dark swirling in your eyes. “tell me, y/n, ‘you ever think about having little ones?” his large hands came up to rub against your thighs.

rafe felt as if he was approaching that line he’s been wanting to cross since the first time he interviewed you all those years ago. “yes.” you let out a shaky breath when you felt rafe’s fingertips move under your blouse. “you would make such a good mother, you’d want that wouldn’t you?” you cupped his face as his lips ghosted over your own.

you moaned once he finally kissed you, both of your clothes coming off before you could have enough time to think. “gonna fill you up and make you have my babies, yeah?” he laid you down on the soft cushions, running the head of his cock between your wet folds. “yes, please.” you mewled, eyes shining with lust as he took your chin between his thumb.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.” he covered your mouth, muffling the yelp that left your lips when he entered you slowly, your silky walls welcoming him inch by inch. his strokes were slow and full of intention, his arms caging you in while you two shared the kind of kisses that made your head spin. “been wanting you like this for so long.” he cursed under his breath.

you whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as you trailed kisses across his jaw. the intimacy of having his body flush against yours wasn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced, your soft cries driving him on the brink of fucking you senseless. “oh, my god,” you clawed at his skin, making him hiss as he tugged at the roots of your hair to make you look up.

“i can see it already; all three of us going to the beach and rubbing on your round belly, all pretty and pregnant.” rafe picked up his pace, your hips now moving with his to meet his thrusts. “i want that so bad!” you nearly screamed when he started toying with your clit, both of you holding onto one another like your life depended on it.

“jesus, fuck-” his movements came to a halt before he placed your legs on his shoulders, leaning down until your thighs met the cushions underneath you. snaking an arm around your lower back, you gasped when he started lifting you up, fucking you onto his cock so he could reach deeper than before. “r-rafe!” your mouth fell open, eyes blinking slowly.

with one hand still rubbing your clit, and the head of his length continuously hitting your sweet spot, you found yourself approaching the edge of euphoria. rafe can tell by the way you were clenching around him that you were going to cum soon. “hold out a little longer for me, baby. ‘want you to cum when i fill you up.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, hips stuttering once the band in his stomach snapped.

burying his head in the curve of you neck, he moaned against your skin as he stilled, the head of his cock nudging your cervix. you felt the moment he finished, the hot ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt as your thighs started trembling. rafe clamped a hand over your mouth, whispering a ‘let me feel you cum around me.’ before you obliged, your orgasm hitting you in long waves of ecstasy.

you laid helplessly, trying your hardest not to scream at the intense feeling in your tummy, your eyes rolling back as he rubbed a soothing hand on your side. rafe helped you come down from your climax, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body jolt with every stroke of his fingers against your skin. he stayed nestled inside of you, both of you embracing each other as your breathing slowed, sleep weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“you did so good for me, are you feeling okay?” you blinked up at him, a smile making its way to his lips when he saw the fucked out expression on your face. “mhmm, ‘don’t think i could get up though.” you hissed once he pulled out, watching as he slipped on his pants. “let’s get in the shower, you’re staying here.” he helped you up, putting his large button down over your shoulders.

rafe carried you upstairs, tiptoeing past ray’s room before both of you got in the shower, round two well underway. it wasn’t until you were laying rafe’s bed, adorned in one of his t-shirts that you two heard little ray’s voice outside the door. “daddy? can i come in?” rafe rubbed a reassuring hand on your arm, shouting a ‘yes, son!’ before ray strided inside, running up to you excitedly.

“can i sleep in here, pleaseee,” you embraced him, telling him yes before rafe could get the chance to tell him otherwise. “are you sleeping over?” the little boy peered up at you, wasting no time in settling under the comforter of rafe’s bed. you giggled, flashing rafe a look. “yes, i am.” ray looked over at his father, studying him for a minute.

you watched them have a silent conversation with their eyes, the scene making your heart melt. “goodnight, daddy,” he patted rafe’s chest, “..goodnight, mommy.” he pecked your cheek, the waterworks threatening to spill over at any moment. rafe reached over, taking your hand in his before he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “goodnight.”

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cute-sucker · 4 months

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smile for the camera

˚❀༉‧₊˚

rafe called you his prized trophy, and you didn't mind it. you trotted in your tight skirts, black card and tiny heels. it was a ritual, something calming. you needed a label, something to stand by.

something that branded you to be his. but you didn't mind his demands, sometimes you were sweet about it. sometimes you let things go wild, but you knew he would take care of you. that was the important thing. that was what you needed most of all/

there was something about him that made you feel protected. and he liked that you let him do that. you fueled his male insecurities of having to be a strong, strong man, because of how desperately you needed someone like that.

you used to be a pageant queen, a girl who had gems stuck to her forehead, makeup drowning her face, teeth bleached white, and the constant need to be loved. one of your vivid memories was getting dragged to get your hair done, your mother screeching about how needy you were. the whole appointment you cried your eyes out, arms flailing out, whispering questions.

"do you love me mommy?"

and she would pull you up, her lipstick clashing againts her leopard orange jumpsuit. you could already hear the insult, and braced yourself.

"would someone love their cash cow?" then she paused watching your expression. you were five. you didn't know what that meant, but you could feel yourself being inspected like an insect, and then finally when you cowered your gaze to the floor, she hummed with contempt.

"no. now, shut up" then her harsh hand would graze against your chin to fix your hair. you whimpered, hands aching to take out your outfit. the rest of the memory was too painful to remember.

but those days were gone. rafe had caught your eye the first time you worked at the country club. you lacked the vanity or the items that would attract someone who had money, but there was something about your smile.

you were dazzling no matter what, and that was when rafe had seen you. you had gone to the bathroom before to serve him, and came back with pink glossy lips and doe eyes that showed him that you were innocent. you needed protection. you needed someone to give you the firm hand, and then kiss you with forgiveness.

so there it was. within weeks he would only call you to serve him, and you would do so quickly, the same smile plastered on your face, and finally as if he was pissed he pulled you down. your mom had always told you that the one thing she liked about you was your winning smile. but, something was wrong.

"nah, i don't like that."

you snapped to look at him, your fake smile wavering for a moment, "what's the problem, mr. cameron?"

sometimes that would earn a chuckle out of him, and you could tell the way he was sitting that he liked it but - but there was something wrong, and suddenly he was pulling you down to sit with him. you felt shocked seeing him so close. you could smell his breath, and you felt your heart drum faster.

"get that-" he pointed to your face, "-fucking fake smile outta here. if you wanna make me happy? give me a real smile."

and that was it, and then he grunted almost pushing you up. you sniffled, and then got up, hands reaching to fix your skirt and then hurried out to the backdoor. no one called back for you, and it was almost as if his words echoed all the way home as you caught the bus.

you spent hours crying over that moment. as you got home you rushed to the bathroom. your disgusting apartment smellt of cockroaches, and burnt food, and you sat there in your sink. you smiled. stopped. smiled. stopped. smiled. it hurt the way the cracks of your smile etched into your mouth.

what was wrong with it?

for god sakes what was he talking about?

those days were now long gone. no longer did you wait tables, or go back to your crappy apartment that made you feel gross. instead you slept in a warm bed in tanyhill waking up to rafe's firm hands on your body. you snuggled closer to him, placing your hands on his chest.

"hey?" he murmered, head buried in the fluff of his pillow. you giggled at his strange expression, and he quickly stuck his head out, eyes squinted, "what's wrong?"

you sighed, "nothing rafey. i-"

he looked at you again, a pointed look on his face, "spit it out."

you bit your lip, your voice a whisper when you asked your question. you had always been told to never ask questions unless you wanted the backhand, but rafe waited patiently.

"um," you sputtered out, "um, you remember that day when you came into the country club and i was serving-"

he hummed appreciatively, "yeah you were so hot, goddamn-"

at this you giggled again, before placing your hand on his mouth, "gotta shut up for a second-" and then you bit your lip before tilting your head, "remember that day when you told me to stop smiling, or something like you didn't like my smile?"

rafe seemed to furrow his eyebrows, "no, baby, i don't really remember that," he muttered out, and you felt your heart prick.

your eyes watered the way they always did, as your throat clogged up, "i was wondering what you meant by that?"

he sighed finally, looking at you. you looked so small in your pink nightgown, lip stuck out as you seemed to clench your fists to the sides of your body. you watched him carefully, hoping that something - some emotions would show on his face.

he sighed again, before reaching out for you, "baby, come here. you seem so far away," he said soflty, pulling you closer until you were in his lap. he held you close, his words humming a sweet vibration through your body. you felt safe, you felt at home.

you felt your breathing calm, as you listened to his steady beat. his hand moved up and down your back.

"listen," he began, his voice a low rumble, "when I said that, i didn't mean I didn't like your smile. i just meant i wanted to see the real you. not some fake, plastered-on smile you thought i wanted to see."

you sniffled, tears brimming in your eyes, but you felt a small flicker of relief. "but why didn't you just say that?" you whimpered, your voice small and vulnerable.

he tilted your chin up, making you look into his eyes. "i was a dickhead, and you seemed like a sweet girl. i wanted to know you as that sweet girl"

you blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek. he make a soft sound of protest as he wiped the tear away with his coarse thumb, touch tender

"you mean that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. you felt shy now, folding into your self, as rafe smiled against your skin.

"of course, i mean it," he replied firmly. "y'think i'd lie about something like that?"

finally he pulled you up to give you a firm kiss, "my princess."

you buried your face in his chest, letting his words sink in. the weight of the past seemed to lift, if only a little, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "thank you, rafe," you murmured against his skin.

he held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "no need to thank me, baby."

for the first time in a long time, you felt a genuine smile tug at your lips.

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lulunothulu · 1 month

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Always Second Choice

A/N: I’ve been in such a fluffy mood omg. Please enjoy a fantasy I’ve been thinking about all day.

TW: PURE FLUFF, some alcohol use, sad boi hours, sappiness, BUT HAPPY ENDING 💗

“Why can’t I be someone that a person loves first?”

You’d had a wild night of drinking with Phoenix after running into your ex. Seeing him always made you want to go all out, mainly because you wanted to forget about him and what he did to you. It’d been a year since you caught him in bed with another woman and you still freak out whenever you run into him at the grocery store.

Tonight wasn’t an exception. You had called Natasha to come drink with you—who called Bradley and Jake—because you desperately needed to take shots of tequila after you saw your ex with the girl he cheated on you with. She was pregnant.

“Why couldn’t he have loved me?” You had cried after three shots. “Why wasn’t I the one he chose? Why am I always someone’s second choice?”

After another three and a half shots, Jake told you to call it night.

That was the thing about Jake, he was one of the best friends you could ever ask for. No matter what—or who— he was doing, he dropped everything to make sure you were okay and safe. It’s part of the reason why you fell for him, and hard. He was the first person you’d fully loved with your whole heart. But given that you both worked together and he saw you strictly as a friend, you knew it wouldn’t have worked. And then there was his man-whore ways. He wouldn’t give that up to be with someone—let alone you.

You had drunkenly told an extremely inebriated Nat and Bradley a sloppy goodbye before Jake scooped you up and over his shoulder and gentle walked and placed you in his truck.

He’s carried you up the stairs of your shared two bedroom house and gently laid you on your bed. Even helping you undress and put on an oversized t-shirt with some basketball shorts.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he told you before kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair.

“You promise?” You asked.

“I promise, darling.”

You had woken up with a startle and began to panic before realizing you were home and in your bed. Flashes of the night popped into your mind and you groaned before remembering that Jake was on the floor of your room.

“Jake,” you whisper. You knew he’d still be there. He promised he would.

“Yeah?” He groggily whispers back. He must’ve been asleep.

“Why did you bring me home? Don’t you have people to see?”

“Kinda,” he groans as he sits up from the carpeted floor and turns to look at you with squinted eyes. “And I brought you home because you were babbling at the bar.”

“Oh, why are you still here? I thought you were on a date?” You ask.

“You remember that?” He chuckled. “You had nearly seven shots.”

“It’s all kinda popping into my mind,” you admit. “I’m sorry I kept you from her, whoever she was.”

“It’s fine. I was gonna cancel our hookup anyway.”

“Why?” You dared to ask.

“I had better things to be doing,” he says, turning those green eyes on you with so much kindness, you felt like you were melting.

You turn away abruptly and nod, feeling your hair fall around your face. You feel Jake’s fingers brush against your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile.

“Now what did you mean at the bar?” Jake asks. “You know, about being someone second choice?”

You hesitate. As much as you loved Jake, you damn sure were not going to be telling him this...at least not now.

"Nothing, I was drunk as hell," you say instead.

Jake lifts a brow before sighing and standing from the floor, looking down at you from the side of the bed. "Scoot over, the floor is hard as fuck."

You laugh but scoot over, allowing Jake to climb into bed with you with a loud sigh. His arm brushes next to your arm before settling on top, his hand squeezing yours.

"You're my first choice," he whispers.

Your heart flutters at the thought of being his first choice but then stops when you realize he probably means it in a platonic way.

"Thanks," you mutter. "At least I'm someone's first choice."

Jake shuffles to face you, a frown forming on his brow. "I mean it, Y/N. You're my first and only choice."

"Okay, Jake." You're not convinced but at least the heart was in the statement.

"Y/N," he starts, cupping your face. "Why do you think I cancelled my date?"

"To take care of my drunk ass," you chuckle.

"No," he smiles. "Because I'd hate to know Bradley's hands were the ones drying your tears, dressing you. I hate the thought of having anyone other than me taking care of you. You're my girl."

"Your girl?"

"My number one," he starts. "My day one. My ride or die. My love. Don't think I haven't noticed how annoyed you get when I'd pick up girls at Hard Deck."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe Jake was telling you this, that he noticed your annoyance.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

He caresses your cheek before whispering, "You know why."

"No, I don't," you whisper back.

"Then let me show you."

Before you can react, Jake is sitting up and pressing his lips onto your forehead. He peppers kisses down your cheeks and nose before hovering over your lips. He’s panting softly, smiling down at you before he fully leans in.

His soft lips brush against yours and tentatively peck at them. Only when you wrap an arm around his neck does he deepen the kiss, smothering you in the best way imaginable.

His lips are wander and explore yours like an archeologist would an Egyptian tomb. His tongue pushes past your lips, wrestling with your own the taste of alcohol mixed with something sweet lingering.

Jake snakes his hand to the back of your neck, cradling your head in his hand.

“Oh, Y/N.” He moans into your mouth. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you.”

See to him, you’ve been the girl he’s been dreaming about. The one he thinks of before he goes to bed. The one he needed to distract himself from because he didn’t feel like you had feelings for him. He’s loved you from the very moment you walked onto the tarmac and chewed his ass out for flying recklessly. He’s loved you every day, every minute, every second.

Only now, when he saw you crying about being chosen second, did he think to make his move.

To hell with the friendship. He wanted more.

“Jake,” you breathlessly reply when he kisses down your neck. “You can’t mean that. It’s the alcohol talking.”

He stops kissing you, looking deep into your eyes and turning serious.

“Y/N, when I tell you I’ve been waiting to kiss you, I mean it. From the moment you walked onto the tarmac two years ago, to now. Now god damnit, let me kiss you.”

So you did.

#jake hangman fic #glen powell #fanfic #jake hangman seresin #glen powell x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you

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pellucid-constellations · 1 month

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Trial and Error (5.5) - Bonus

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: ~700

Warnings: azriel's pov, fluff that will make you explode probably idk

a/n: Hi so I'm crazy and needed to write this after getting asks about it and getting inspo surrounding Az singing night court lullabies to Mel. Please enjoy and I'm sorry for two posts in one day 😅

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel was back in her room the moment he heard the call.

He’d placed Melanie down in her bed only ten minutes prior, but her sleep had been fitful and disjointed over the past day and Azriel hadn’t expected her to stay down for long. It was strange—the way the bond connecting him to you burned with the same protectiveness for Melanie.

“Hey, Melanie,” Azriel whispered, kneeling beside her bed with his fingers resting on the outer edge of her quilt. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

Melanie sat up in her bed with a small groan, the braid you had put in her hair earlier in disarray. “Yeah. Don’t wanna sleep. Where’s mommy?”

Azriel hummed and pushed a wild curl behind her ear. “Mommy’s sick, so she’s sleeping. Like you should be.”

“You aren’t sick, Mr. Azriel?”

“No, I can’t get sick like you. Not right now, anyway.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed and her head swayed. “Can you hold me like mommy does?”

Azriel’s heart shattered in his chest at her request. Her sleepy eyes blearily stared up at him as he let out a shaky breath and attempted to push down some of his joy at her request.

Maybe you didn’t fully trust him yet, but Melanie did.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he replied, reaching out beneath her arms to hoist her up. When her head immediately found a home in the juncture of his neck, Azriel melted. “Are you feeling any better?”

Melanie fisted Azriel’s shirt as he situated her against his chest. “Little bit.”

Sometimes, when she spoke, Azriel could hear you in Melanie’s voice.

He wanted so badly to be part of that connection.

The want often scared him.

“Can we go to mommy’s room?” she asked, pulling her head up to send him a sleepy question. “Not to wake her up. Mommy’s room is just nice.”

The two of you always sought each other out—always found safety in being near.

Azriel rubbed Melanie’s back and nodded with a smile that was fueled both by adoration and melancholy.

Your room was dark when he entered. Melanie had taken a glance at your sleeping figure and then rested her head back into the crook of Azriel’s neck. He could feel each breath she took and felt each clench of her fists into his shirt.

“Is this better?” Azriel asked, voice so low and careful he wasn’t sure if the five-year-old would hear him.

But Melanie nodded and whispered back a small confirmation that made Azriel’s chest hurt. He held her closer to his chest and watched the rise and fall of yours as you slept an arm’s length away. When Melanie’s breathing didn’t even out after a few minutes, he placed a hand behind her head and started lightly swaying.

“You have to try and sleep, Mel. That’s how you get better,” he whispered into her ear.

“I’m trying,” she whispered back, strained and trying to keep quiet for her mom. “It’s hard, Mr. Azriel. My head doesn’t feel good.”

Azriel tutted and hated that there was very little he could do for this illness. “I know, Mel. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Her only response was to bury her face further into his shoulder.

Azriel thought back to his youth, to the perils and hardships he had endured, and he sought after the light—the good moments. His mother’s singing stood out, the melody of a Night Court lullaby gently lulling in his mind.

Azriel didn’t have much experience with children other than Nyx, but, with Melanie, that didn’t seem to matter. With Melanie, everything came to him with a practiced ease that didn’t feel deserved. But he took from it anyway.

So, Azriel began to hum the lullabies from his childhood, wrapping a wing around the child in his arms to block everything else out.

And she was able to sleep.

part 6

#azriel x reader #kinda lol #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel series #azriel fluff #dad azriel #<33

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cherienymphe · 7 months

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There Will Be Blood

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader x Lady Margot Fenring

Summary: Knowing that you are too afraid to ever find yourself alone with the Harkonnen heir, Lady Margot secures his heart's desire for his celebration day.

warnings: Dub-Con (use of the voice), blood, knifeplay, choking, threesome, mentions of cannibalism, non canon ages, spoiler free

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

⭑

“She looks almost good enough to eat,” were the words that reached your ears in that low timbre, head tilted as he gazed at you. “I don’t know whether to feed her to my darlings…”

The feeling of his finger underneath your chin was almost nonexistent as he tilted your head up. You were too anxious to look away—his reputation preceding him—and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed, held captive by that dark blue gaze you swore was actually black as night in certain lighting.

“…or make her one of them.”

You swallowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the subtle movement.

He was referring to his ‘pets’ as you knew he sometimes called them, the three strikingly beautiful Harkonnen women with an appetite for human flesh. The thought of being killed and fed to the women in question made your heart skip a beat…but the thought of being added to his harem made you shudder.

…and you couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad.

Hands slid over your shoulders from behind, making you shiver again, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling of soft lips grazing your throat. You faintly tried to remember how and why you ended up here, and you could only recall staring into enticing blue eyes. Her familiar face was all that stood out in your memory, features soft and lips curved into an even softer smile. With all of that being said though, you couldn’t remember your thought process behind following her perfect figure down the hall.

Lady Margot Fenring—golden-haired and willowy with that Bene Gesserit serene repose about her that you found subtly disturbing.

Usually.

In this moment, her calm disposition and quiet authority made your heart race. She was a comforting contrast to the man before you, his intense gaze and sharp features serving to make your imagination run wild with what he was capable of. He was so different from his brother, vastly so from his uncle, but he still possessed similarities with the two that made you nervous all the same.

Especially with his hand so close to your throat.

“This one isn’t for consumption.”

Her lips brushed your skin as her soft and even tone filled your ears.

“Not in the literal sense, at least…” mirth colored her voice at this remark. “I saw you watching her.”

Those words made your heart sink, and you were sure that the brief stab of fear you felt passed through your eyes.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. He was the kind of man that would kill someone solely because he felt like it. He had an animalistic stare that made alarm bells go off in your head, telling you to never take your eyes off of him—to always keep him in your line of sight. He was the kind of man you couldn’t let your guard down around.

He was the kind of man you didn’t want watching you.

As if he could read your worrisome thoughts, a glint passed through the man’s eyes, and he leaned in closer. Not one to conceal his feelings in any situation, his expression twisted into one of amusement, a sight that made your hair stand on end. Those soft hands slid over your shoulders and down your arms, gently caressing them.

Don’t be afraid.

A voice that didn’t sound like your own filled your mind, its influence settling into your bones and deep into the crevices of your subconscious. You felt yourself relax, felt the tension leaving you, and her soft hum had you leaning back into her chest. You didn’t want to be afraid, and you felt confident in repeating those words to yourself, confirming that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You want her,” her fingers grazed your jaw, briefly touching his own. “…but she fears you far too much to ever find yourself alone with her.”

“I like them afraid.”

Those words made you blink, your lips parting at the sincerity in them. By the way he held your gaze, you could tell he wanted you to know he meant it, but that voice in your mind assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of. Not when he leaned in closer, and not when his hand traveled from your chin and down to circle your neck.

“You get too excited,” the blonde woman steadily told him, a hint of authority in her voice. “You would kill her.”

Her fingers on your jaw forced you to turn your head, making you look at her, and when she kissed you, you welcomed it. It was a comforting kiss, one that relaxed you further, and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and bask in the feel of her lips touching yours. Your skin grew warm, and you touched her arm.

“I’m here to keep you in line.”

She spoke the words into your mouth, but she wasn’t talking to you.

Feyd-Rautha’s lack of protest or anger at her words gave you the impression that you were being included in something that already existed. He let her kiss you, the heat of his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face as she drew you in closer. The feeling in your chest was both light and heavy, and you felt as if you couldn’t get close enough to her.

Lady Margot had an aura about her that you’d always been ensnared by—the way she talked, the way she swayed when she walked, and especially the way those attentive eyes watched everyone and everything so closely. She smelled fresh and crisp, an airy feminine aroma filling your nose as her hand rested on the side of your throat, Feyd-Rautha’s arm long falling back at his side.

When she pulled away, only the tip of her nose lightly touched yours.

“He wants you to touch him.”

Her voice reverberated in your mind, influencing your thoughts and movements, and you found yourself turning to look at the man in question. Your advance was slow, hesitant in reaching out to place your hands on the black fabric of his shirt. He visibly shuddered at the contact, and despite the fact that you were clothed, you felt vulnerable and naked underneath his intense gaze.

“This one is fragile, Feyd-Rautha,” amusement danced around her words. “You have to play gentle if you want to keep her.”

Almost as if he wanted to defy her, his hand quickly wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you closer. Your heart stuttered at the action, and despite that brief bout of adrenaline—your body’s way of telling you that you were in danger—that influential voice in your mind told you that you were safe. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with wide eyes.

His own gaze traveled over your form, his perusal slow and his hand tightening. You reached up, grabbing his arm, and the noise of protest he made was a cross between a grunt and a hum. His nose touched yours, and when he spoke again, it sounded like there was gravel in his throat.

“Do you fear me?”

The thought settled in your mind that he wanted you to say yes, and so you did, barely whispering it.

That pleased him, and he presented you with a terrifying smile. His fingers were pressing into the skin of your neck, and his blue gaze studied yours, eyes flickering between your own. There was a carnal excitement there that told you he lusted for more than just your body, and when you winced at the grip he had on your throat, it only grew.

“Good,” he praised in a guttural tone.

Kissing Feyd-Rautha was nothing like kissing Lady Margot.

It wasn’t meant to be a gentle and comforting experience, but instead one that forced you to face every one of your discomforts head on. His teeth pressing into your lips, his hand cutting off your airway, the lack of warning as he pushed you back. Every action was designed to make you squirm, and despite that feeling, heat still settled in the pit of your stomach as his weight pressed down on you.

Lady Margot’s gentle touch made your leg tingle. She was pulling on it, making room for him while her other hand grabbed your arm, and you shuddered at the feel of her lips kissing a path to your wrist. The contrast in their efforts made your head spin, and Feyd-Rautha’s constricting grip on your throat only disappeared when his lips replaced his hand instead.

Pain blossomed beneath where his teeth were, and you gasped, chest arching up into his involuntarily. His hands on your frame were tense, like he wanted to twist and tear you apart, but something disallowed him from doing so. When he kissed you again, the pain in your neck lingered, flaring from spot to spot, and you didn’t doubt that bruises would be there.

When you were forced to sit up, the soft and thin fabric of your dress was pulled at by two sets of hands. A feminine touch loosened the back, her lips following behind where his once were, soothing the irritated skin there. He, on the other hand, was yanking your sleeves down, and the sound of a slight tear or two in the fabric could be heard.

The cold air hit you for half a second before a warm mouth covered a sensitive bud before it even had time to harden. The sharp feeling of his teeth pressing into the skin of your breast made you shy away, but with Lady Margot at your back, you had nowhere to go. Her lips along your neck and shoulder was a welcomed feeling, a soothing contrast against the pain the Harkonnen man was inflicting. It almost faded to the background completely when her hand found its way between your thighs.

Your lips parted, and your lashes fluttered, and you couldn’t help but to lift your hips. Her fingers were soft against your skin, the appendages sliding between your folds and stroking you. One of your hands reached down to rest on hers, riding along with her ministrations while the other reached up to grip the arm of the man intent on breaking skin.

The feel of Lady Margot’s fingers pushing into you and curving against your walls made you circle your hips. The pain and pleasure were starting to blend together so closely that you couldn’t tell what you liked and didn’t like. His teeth scraping down your torso had your breath hitching, and the Bene Gesserit woman behind you hummed when you clenched around her fingers. It sounded like a noise of approval, and when she spoke, her tone and words confirmed that suspicion.

“She likes that,” she mused, her free hand coming up to run over your chest. “She’s starting to like the pain.”

She was right.

Almost as if that triggered something in him, the blue-eyed man relinquished control completely, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as he pulled you forward. The action caused you to collapse, your head resting in Lady Margot’s lap as he finished removing your dress, the fabric falling around you in tatters. There was only a brief bout of alarm when he brandished a small blade from his waist.

There was that voice again, settling and taking up residence in your mind, telling you not to be afraid.

Pain flared along your skin in a singular path as the tip of the blade just barely grazed your flesh. It was so sharp that a thin line of blood followed the weapon’s descent, but it was gone as quickly as it came as his tongue slipped past his lips, ingesting your essence and soothing that sting. Your eyes closed, and you welcomed her kiss as she leaned over.

Feyd-Rautha’s own lips kissed you too…just before he sank his teeth into your skin.

You were given bites and nips between the kisses—along your hip and along your thighs and eventually in between your thighs. Your hips lifted, and your back arched, and you unintentionally bit Lady Margot’s lip. She smiled into the kiss, and you knew that she could taste the same blood you felt on your own tongue.

Feyd-Rautha was a mad man between your legs, tongue and teeth playing with you, the blade in his hand pressed against your thigh. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed, wanting to both run away from the pain and run towards it. Every shallow cut made into your skin was soothed by his tongue almost immediately, and you wanted to be embarrassed by how wet their combined ministrations made you.

When you found yourself on your knees, the blade at your throat and his naked chest at your back, you could see the way Lady Margot’s gaze held his. Her face was serene and thoughtful, almost as if she were having a silent conversation with the man at your back. The sharpness of his blade drew blood, and by the way his free hand smeared it along your skin, you knew that it turned him on.

“Gentle,” she reminded him, standing.

He wasn’t so gentle when he pushed his way into you, making you sharply inhale, but the blade remained light against your throat. You tilted your head back, both to relieve the sting and because the feel of his cock sliding into you had you submitting. His own deep grunts were right at your ear, and his bloody hand trailed down your frame to roughly knead into your skin.

The sound of skin slapping against skin made your ears twitch, and when he roughly pushed you down with a hand on your back, your fingers twisted into the sheets of the luxurious bed. Your head was bowed, forehead grazing the fabric as he fucked you, power and aggression driving every thrust. Lady Margot was right, you were afraid of the Baron’s sole heir, positive that you’d never find yourself alone with him before today.

Even if you doubted it, you would have never guessed this is how he’d choose to spend his birthday celebration. While fireworks were exploding and food and drink was being passed around, Feyd-Rautha was spending his time burying his cock in you. His fingers twisted painfully into your hair, making you yelp, and the sound only made him fuck you harder.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he roughly asked you, and when you started to nod, he pushed your face down into the bed.

Understanding what he wanted, you managed to force out a small affirmation.

“Yes,” you choked out.

The low laugh that he let out was menacing, and he was aggressive in pushing you onto your back. His hand was tight when it found a home on your throat, pinning you in place as he snapped his hips into yours. The force was enough to make you wince, and his brutal treatment didn’t go unnoticed, the blonde woman coming up behind the man.

Her gaze found yours, holding it as she whispered something into his ear that yours weren’t privy to. Her beautiful hands came around to slide along his smooth chest, her lips still brushing against his ear. Her lips traveled to his throat as he pulled away from you, pulling out and allowing the other woman to guide him to sit back.

He was uncharacteristically still as he watched her take his place.

“Come.”

Her simple command was impossible to disobey, and you sat up, doing as she said. With a hand on the back of your head, she guided you towards the man, an imposing urge to touch him descending over you. With your hands sliding along his lithe frame, her fingers applied pressure, and your head lowered.

Your lips stretched around him as you tasted his cock, tongue flat and cheeks hollowed. Feminine hands were gliding over your curves, fingers eventually sinking into you again. You closed your eyes at the feel, relaxing and heart calming at the 180 from Feyd-Rautha’s earlier brutality. At the thought of him, you peeled your eyes open, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

It amazed you, how he could be so dominant and forceful with you but so obedient and almost subdued with her. With one look into his eyes or the feel of her hands against his skin, he became a momentarily tamed wild animal. The feral glint in his eyes couldn’t be done away with, the desire to cause pain coloring his features whenever his gaze connected with yours.

As Lady Margot gently curved her fingers into you, you found yourself craving that feeling again.

Your neck and torso still faintly stung from where his blade had drawn blood, and you got the feeling that your skin was already starting to bruise from where he’d tightly held you. You recalled her earlier words, about her presence serving to keep him in line, and your mind lingered on the aches you felt from what he’d done while she was here. You wondered what would be in store for you should he ever get you completely alone.

You suspected that she was right.

He would get too excited…and probably kill you.

When his lips curved into a small smirk, you knew then that your thoughts were written on your face—along with your fear. His hand on your head made you nervous, and still you slid your mouth up and down the length of him. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, Lady Margot’s soft ministrations stroking that fire deep within your stomach. It made you moan around him, and if possible, you swore Feyd-Rautha’s eyes darkened at both the sound and feel.

“She would make a well-behaved pet,” he haughtily said.

The way he stared into your eyes told you that was meant more so for you than her. They both shifted, leaning in and you heard them kiss above your head.

“I knew that you would enjoy her,” the blonde woman confidently said, her even tone unable to hide her satisfaction. “Provided you don’t break her.”

When she pulled away, she pulled away from you too, and with a hand on your chin, she lifted your head. She guided you to kiss him, her own lips resting against your cheek, her soft voice telling you not to be afraid. You wanted to listen, your own mind agreeing, and so you welcomed the pain when blood bloomed along your lips.

Feyd-Rautha enjoyed the taste, roughly grabbing your hands and pinning them behind you at the small of your back. He didn’t tell you to lie down, instead making you, and you winced at the feel of your hands trapped beneath your own body. His lips were stained red when he pulled away, and your mouth parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock started to stretch you out again.

You were completely powerless—at his mercy—and you cried out at the rough curve of his hips. He looked vicious above you, focused not on chasing his high but on seeing the register of pain on your face instead. That was what brought him pleasure, watching you wince and squirm beneath him and his intense thrusts. If his hand wasn’t on your throat then it was yanking your hair or digging into the soft flesh of your breast.

He seemed to like the sight of marking you up whether it be with his teeth or his hand…or that blade.

He held it against your throat while he fucked you, sometimes sliding the flat part down your chest, blue eyes transfixed by the metal pressing against your skin. Occasionally he’d turn it, the edge grazing you, making a cut just shallow enough and then he’d lean down to taste you. Spots of his own flesh was marred by your blood, and he obviously didn’t care as he smeared it over both of you with every movement.

With your hands free, you clutched onto the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head. His hands were painfully tight on your waist, keeping your hips lifted for him as he thrust into you. Lady Margot—silently and appreciatively watching—slid her hands along the bed to grab your hands. Her fingers intertwined with your own, holding them down, and you welcomed the gentle kisses she placed on your wrists and then your cheek before finally your lips.

The man above you made a noise of disapproval, and after some time, she granted him what he wanted, his own rough lips replacing hers. You panted into the kiss, tasting your blood on his lips, and you felt almost delirious. It was a constant cycle of pain and pleasure that had you chasing him when he started to pull away. The laugh he gave at the sight told you his thoughts on the matter, but you didn’t care how much power you were giving him.

His gaze suddenly lifted, and his thrusts didn’t stop as he faced Lady Margot. You felt hypnotized as you watched them, eyes focused on the way Feyd-Rautha stuck out his tongue, elongating it in a way you didn’t think possible. The willowy woman had let you go, taking his own blade and dragging the edge of it down his tongue.

It was then that you realized the man inside of you enjoyed pain almost as much as he liked inflicting it.

You wondered if that was why he was so submissive towards her, why she could order him around and why she was so confident that she could keep him in line. You were unsurprised when they kissed, the brutal man kissing you after a while when they finally parted. You swore that his blood tasted completely different from your own.

A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you felt almost completely spent. You were sure that the celebration of his birth was still being had while he chose to celebrate between your legs. His strength and the knowledge of how easily he could snuff you out played a part in the way you clenched around his cock. You could feel that you were close—and so could he.

His hand completely obstructed your breathing, and you could only hold onto his wrist. With every thrust into your cunt, the heat in the pit of your stomach grew. Your heart was racing, and your eyes struggled to remain open, and your toes curled as he stretched you around him. A noise of appreciation reached your ears, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap your neck.

He could do it. The strength in his hand told you so and that he would probably barely exert himself doing so. You felt your neck strain underneath his fingers, and your nails drew blood over his skin. You knew he liked that because he kissed you again. Your shallow breaths hit his face, and just as you were on the verge of passing out, you came.

…and his hold loosened.

The rush of air into your lungs coinciding with the release of pressure inside of you made your world momentarily go dark. All you could feel was the snug fit of his cock—and the way your walls fluttered around it—and his teeth against your lip. You could faintly feel softer hands on your face, and a choked moan left your lips his hips continued to connect with yours.

His hand tightened again just as your vision started to return to you, and the smile you were met with was chilling. So turned on by watching you straddle death, the fearsome fighter came too but much more violently. He practically growled above you, the noise so animalistic and inhumane sounding. Your neck almost cracked beneath the force of his hand, and the overstimulation from the feel of his cock made you want to clench your thighs together.

You were struggling to breathe when he stilled, chest burning, and when he roughly let you go—pushing himself away from you—you gasped for air. You turned on your side, sweaty and bloody and feeling like you couldn’t breathe deep enough. A hand smoothed along the side of your face—a feminine hand—and when you looked up, the blue-eyed man was cleaning his blade with a crooked smile, terrifying teeth on display.

“I think I will keep this one.”

#feyd rautha #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd-rautha #margot fenring #lady margot fenring #margot fenring x reader #dune fanfiction #dune imagine #feyd-rautha imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #lea seydoux

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calumfmu · 6 months

Text

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

masterlist. requests and inbox are open.

#i can’t get over robin lately #so she’s gonna be the bestie in everything #i love her #my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #fanfic #smut #steve harrington smut #enemies to lovers #dom steve harrington

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seresinhangmanjake · 7 days

Text

Late Date

Summary: It’s your birthday and Tyler’s going to do some wrangling to make sure no tornado can ruin your day. Unfortunately, that also makes him and the Wranglers a bit late to your party.

Notes/Warnings: Fluff. It’s not angsty at all, despite how the summary may sound. Inaccurate meteorology/tornado stuff. Slight jealousy. This is based on a lyrics request: “you’ve got long hair slicked back white t shirt and I’ve got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” It’s just meant to be kinda cute, and I did my best, so hopefully you guys like it. Comments make my entire world, so if you do like it, let me know :)

Words: 1650

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

It happens often. You and Tyler are enjoying your time together when Disaster suddenly puts you in her path. A picnic in the park, a late-evening rodeo, a dinner date for him to meet your mother—all ruined. And yes, you believe Disaster does this intentionally. Disaster, in the form of a funnel of warm air and moisture, is as much in love with your boyfriend as you are, and she’s a jealous bitch, always calling him away when he’s in the throes of life with you.

Luckily for Tyler, you’re not as jealous as his tornado. You’re not as greedy. When he leaves you to meet her, you let him go because he’s the town hero, and you don’t let your emotions get in the way of his job. After all, he does what he does to save the things he loves—this town, his family, you. And regardless of the time he spends with her, you know you’re his number one.

Today, however, you could do without his job. The jealousy that you have rarely felt up to this point seeps through as he throws your favorite white t-shirt of his over his sculpted chest before buckling the belt wrapped around his jean-clad hips. He stomps one foot down into his boot and then the other before rifling through the dresser chest at the base of the bed.

“You have to do this on my birthday?” you ask, trying not to pout from your seated position on the mattress. The silk sleeve of your robe falls down your shoulder, exposing bare skin, and despite the chill, you don’t pull the garment back up your arm. Anything to keep him in this bed, you think, and for a moment, you you’re satisfied that it might be working. Tyler pauses on his hunt for a clean flannel as his eyes glue to your chest, your pebbled nipples just barely hidden by the rest of the smooth, thin material.

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, but it’s from your touch that Tyler finally blinks, shakes his head, and says, “Darlin’, wouldn’t you rather feel reassured that your evening tonight will go tornado-free? I’m just going to go with the guys, disrupt anything that’s already formed, and observe the conditions as best I can so we don’t get any coming our way when we’re supposed to be celebrating another year of your life.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he hits you with logic, but it’s made harder by the pout on his face. That is supposed to be your pout. He’s the one leaving you on your birthday—decent reason or not—not the other way around.

“Fine,” you say.

Tyler grins from ear to ear. He leans in and captures your lips in a long kiss before pulling back and brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. “We’ll meet you at the bar, ok?”

Nodding, you say, “Yea,” and untangle your arms from his neck. He gives you one last kiss.

“Happy Birthday, darlin’” glides to your ear in his smooth, low voice, and then he’s out the door.

—

“He’ll be here,” your cousin tells you. You’ve been staring at the bar door for a half-hour, disappointed with each new blond cowboy who walks into the crowded space. “When has he ever let you down?”

You sigh. “I know. But why did the bitchy tornadoes have to run wild today of all days? He said they chased four between here and the next town over, and two of them put up a real fight,” you say, relaying the information of Tyler’s earlier texts. “Plus, it’s raining now. That’ll only make it more difficult for them to get back.”

The bartender offers you and your cousin the drinks she ordered. She winks at him and downs the entire glass in one gulp—which he seems to find very impressive—before nudging your glass closer to your folded hands atop the counter.

“Well, the only thing to do is drink up,” she orders. “Might as well have fun while we wait.”

—

You’re two drinks in. Your cousin has knocked back four, and while she’s no lightweight, the effects show in the uptick of her flirtiness with the bartender. She’s agreed to wait around until his shift is over, which was quickly retracted when she remembered that it’s your birthday and the fun she is meant to be having is with you, not the hot guy who stopped charging her for drinks an hour ago. But you assuage her guilt, knowing you have no intention of hanging around a crowded bar until two in the morning unless your boyfriend is going to be with you, birthday or not.

With the acceptance of your third drink, you hope to easier ignore the appreciative glances from the blond cowboys on the other side of the mass of dancers in the center of the room. You must be a sunny-haired, country boy’s type, but they aren’t your man, and to be honest, you’re surprised they’re daring enough to look so long. The town is small enough that you figured by now everyone knows you’re Tyler’s girl, but clearly, that’s not the case. Either that or they just don’t care.

When you start to feel it—the slight high, the looser inhibitions—you decide the best course of action is to simply ignore them, and so you hop down from the stool and make your way to the dance floor to do exactly that, planting yourself in the middle of a group of like-minded women swaying their hips to the tune. Like that, you let yourself go, alcohol allowing you to surrender to the flow of the feminine voice coming through the speakers. Your mind drifts, your eyes close, and when you feel a hand on your waist, you think of Tyler. When hips grind against yours, you think of Tyler. When lips touch your neck, you think of Tyler. And when your eyes open, you see Tyler.

He steps into the bar with the Wranglers in tow, his soaked white t-shirt clinging to his torso that every woman—even those invested in men of their own—notices, his hands slicking back his damp locks. With a grin on his handsome face, he glances around the space in search of you, but when he finds you, that grin drops faster than a rock can hit the ground.

It’s then that you realize the paws on your body are not his. The breath hitting behind your ear is that of a stranger. Tyler’s stomping his way over to you, but you don’t need him to release his building rage because you have plenty of your own.

Flipping around, your palm meets the cheek of one of the knock-off Tylers. He yelps and rubs his face. His irises turn red, and he looks ready to give you a scolding or call you some sort of vile name, but his eyes widen at the shadow that suddenly looms over you and he shrinks where he stands.

“Y-Your girlfriend?” he eeks out.

It’s fascinating to see the demeanor shift. Tyler must have more of a reputation than you realized. You haven’t lived in town long—you moved in with him three weeks ago after a year of long-distance dating—but you’ve known for a while that he is well-loved and anyone who crosses him crosses the town. What you didn’t know was that the people’s devotion to their tornado-wrangling hero could incite such fear. And honestly, you’re a little impressed; a little turned on.

Tilting your chin up, the back of your head lands against your boyfriend’s chest. His arm comes around your waist, hand flattening over your stomach. “You think?” he spits.

When knock-off Tyler skitters back to the gaggle of knock-off Tylers, your Tyler turns you around to face him. With a cocked brow, he says, “Now, darlin’, what was that?”

You shrug. “Thought he was you.”

Tyler looks over your shoulder to the group of blonds. His eyes narrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve had a bit to drink,” you chuckle.

His mouth parts, an ahh sound leaving his throat as if to say, ‘That explains it.’ “Where’s your cousin?” His gaze follows yours to the familiar woman whose body is half thrown over the countertop, her lips connected to the guy whose neglect of other patrons is about to cause a riot. But you don’t care about a likely-to-be-fired bartender; you care that your boyfriend was absent for so much of your birthday.

“What took you so long?”

You’ve started to gently sway with the music again, this time taking the correct Tyler with you. Your hands clasp behind his neck as his link around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Sorry, darlin’. It was rougher than we anticipated,” he says, and though you expected to be much more put out, you feel settled with that explanation. You’re just happy he’s with you now and not standing you up for a date with his unpredictable weather. “You look pretty,” he tells you as his palms slide down over the skirt that’s snuggly fitted around your hips. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

“Bought it today.”

“For me?”

“For me.” You roll your eyes. “But I might have guessed you’d like it.”

He hums, gaze raking appreciate up your body to your mouth. “I do,” he says, then he presses his lips to yours. However, remembering the scarlet hue coating your lips, you quickly pull back.

“Your whole mouth is going to be red if you keep kissing me.”

Tyler’s brow pinches. One hand’s fingers glide up your body and slip between the strands of your hair. “Good,” he says. “Then people will know we’re a matching set.”

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #glen powell #tyler owens fic #twisters

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pitchsidestories · 1 month

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lovers II Keira Walsh x Williamson!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2468

a/n: Hi, we realized that it's our 100th oneshot which sounds absolutely wild, so enjoy. For the readers who wait for the Emily Fox fanfic it will come out next. <3

You were in love with Ibiza.

In love with the beaches and the sunshine, the palm trees and the blue of the ocean.

You were in love with the clubs and bars, your sister and her friends took you to.

But above all, you were in love with your sister’s best friend.

The afternoon sun painted the hotel room in soft golden light as you slipped into a short dress. You could still feel the salty air and the sun from earlier that day on your skin as you began applying mascara to your eyelashes. Except for a bit of hunger, you felt fully content.

“Ready for dinner? You look gorgeous by the way.“, Keiras voice said from behind you.

You hadn’t noticed her coming in.

You flinched, almost stabbing yourself in the eye with the mascara wand.

Keira smiled apologetically at your reflection in the mirror.

You watched as her gaze started to travel down your body, taking in every curve in your tight-fitting dress.

With a smile you turned towards her and bridged the gap between the two of you.

“Are you kidding? Look at you… Your curls are so pretty and soft.“, you whispered, gently running her fingers through her reddish brown hair.

You loved the way the salt water had restored Keiras natural hair texture.

“My curls? I just didn’t straighten my hair.“, she laughed.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, barely visible through the light sunburn on her skin.

Completely enamoured, you beamed at her: “I love it.“

You were about to lean forward to kiss her when someone cleared their throat behind you.

Your heart stopped while you pulled apart. You ran through possible explanations for this situation in your head, just in case you would turn around to face your sister.

Instead, Alex Scott watched the two of you with a knowing grin.

“You do? Oh hi, Alex.“, Keira greeted the former football player.

“Little Williamson is right though. She could have done something with fashion but…“, Alex said without finishing her thought.

You rolled your eyes, she had always tried to convince you to work in the fashion industry but you wouldn’t trade your job as an English teacher in Barcelona for anything in the world.

“She chose to teach people English in Spain and honestly, it was the best decision ever.“, you finished for Alex.

Keira laughed: “I agree with that.“

Leah appeared next to Alex in the doorway. Subconsciously, you tried to put more distance between yourself and Keira.

“Of course, you do, Kei. Because that way you can talk to someone in your mother tongue almost every day. How did the Catalan interview go again?“, your sister teased.

Her best friend released a tired groan: “Don’t remind me.“

Alex changed the subject, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder: “Now that everyone’s dressed up, let’s get some dinner in before we go clubbing.“

“Sounds like a good idea.”, you agreed in a good mood, the sea air made you hungry.

At the restaurant Keira studied the menu thoroughly before looking at you with an innocent smile on her lips.

“Everything here sounds so good, do you want to share?”, she asked.

“Sure.”, you replied happily. Above your heads the fairy lights were switched on and you could hear the waves crashing on to the shore in the background.

The romantic atmosphere was quickly disturbed by your older sister.

“Excuse me? I thought you’d share with me!”, she pouted, sending glances at the Barca player which could kill.

“What about your girlfriend? Doesn’t she want to share with you?”, Keira asked in return, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, Lee, no need to be that dramatic about it.”, Alex Greenwood intervened laughing.

“I’m not dramatic.”, Leah countered smirking.

“That’s just how she’s.”, you explained cheekily.

“Why don’t we order food for the table so we can all share?”, your girlfriend suggested hoping this would calm the Blonde Arsenal defender down.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m in.”, the two Alex’s declared grinning.

“Same, you too, Leah?”, you turned around to investigate your sister’s face, waiting for her reaction.

“Sure.”, she nodded, sounding much calmer already.

“What about a first round of cocktails?”, Jess wanted to know.

“Please.”, Leah answered.

A few minutes later the drinks arrived at your table, beaming you toasted with her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”, she responded grinning.

The sweetness and the alcohol sparked the desire in you to touch your lover’s curly hair again.

“Stop it.”, Keira demanded giggling.

“I’m not doing anything.”, you remarked in a not guilty tone.

“Yes, you’re. Stop it.”, she bit her lip nervously.

“Fine.”, you sighed defeated, quickly finishing your cocktail.

After the last sip you stood up smiling delighted at the other girls. “Girls, are we ready for the club now?”

“Let’s go.”, Alex Greenwood chirmed.

The sun was long gone now, the moon and the stars shown brightly as you and your sister former and current teammates joined the Ibizan night life.

Something your sister and you both shared was the passion for music. While Leah preferred to sing you would take every chance you could get to dance. Before Keira your first love has been rhythm and beats.

“Come on, Kei.”, Alex nudged the red-haired woman who admired you from the distance.

“I don’t dance. I’m here for the drinks.”, she waved the sports journalist off.

“But I do. Come on, Alex.”, Leah remarked cheerfully.

“Coming.“, Alex laughed and let the defender pull her into the direction of the dance floor.

The other Alex jumped up as well, following closely behind: “Hey, wait for me.“

You caught Keiras eye from across the room and danced your way over to her. You were not ready to stop yet but you also didn’t want to leave her alone.

Keira reached for your wrist with a laugh: “Stop twirling around, y/n.“

“Why?“, you asked, spinning out of her grasp.

“Just because.“

You stopped for a moment, studying her face. There was something serious and pleading in her eyes that you didn’t understand. You only wanted to continue dancing with your friends. “Keira…“

You interrupted yourself, taking in a sharp breath in surprise as two hands laid on your hips and spun you around.

A man in his mid-thirties and clearly drunk grinned at you. His gaze traveled down to your neckline while he asked you something that your brain didn’t seem to comprehend. Apparently he wanted you to dance with him but everything about him made clear that he had other things in mind than just dancing.

You froze in place, not sure if you felt disgusted or disgusting.

Just when you were about to say something, your sister squeezed between him and you and pushed him back: “Sorry, no. That’s my sister!“

“And she’s already taken.“, Keira added. You hadn’t noticed that Keira had gotten up from her seat as well.

Leahs head whipped towards her best friend: “What?“

“Uhm…“, you mumbled as you watched the man retreat with his hands raised in surrender.

You desperately tried to find a good reason to change the subject but you just couldn’t come up with one.

“Who is it, y/n? One of your colleagues or one of the Barca girlies?“, Leah asked, her voice tinted with anger.

“It’s…uhm…“, you started and forced yourself not to look at Keira. Lying would be so easy right now. But did you actually want to keep hiding?

Your sister got impatient: “Just tell me.“

“Keira.“, was all you could get out and prayed that you made the right choice.

The two best friends looked at each other. Keira nodded slowly: “It’s me.“

“Wait, you?! When? How? She’s my little sister!“ Leahs eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Keira shrugged, trying to keep her voice calm: “In Barcelona… it just happened.“

Your sister turned towards you with her jaw set: “We’ll talk about this tomorrow morning!“

She stormed off without waiting for an answer and you quietly wondered where she would go.

Keira and you ended the night there and went back to your hotel room.

You walked out on the balcony overlooking the ocean, Keira followed right behind you.

“She’s really mad.“, you said nervously into the night sky.

The midfielder wrapped her arms around you and rolled her eyes: “She can’t be mad about this.“

You knew she had a point.

“No, Lee is more upset about the fact that we didn’t tell her.“

“Still. I can talk with her if you want me to.”, Keira offered while you kept watching the waves come and go which was scarily similar to your older sister’s temper. Deep down you knew she would eventually calm down.

“No, I’ll do it, it’s fine.”, you assured the Barcelona player before kissing her temple softly.

For a moment she closed her eyes under your touch. “She’ll be fine.”, the midfielder whispered in a convinced tone as her lips touched yours in a heartfelt kiss.

“What was the kiss for?”, you raised an eyebrow at her curiously.

“For good luck.”, Keira replied smirking.

“But she said tomorrow so maybe we could just go inside and..”, you begun rambling.

“You think that’s a good idea?”, your girlfriend interrupted you with a doubtful look on her face.

“No, I’ll do it now.”, you sighed, knowing fully well that some things shouldn’t be put on hold. Although you’d miss the comforting hug of the midfielder who pretended to hate them but always made an exception for you.

Cautiously you stood at the entry of the hotel room your sister and her girlfriend were staying in. “Lee, can we chat outside?”

Without a word the older blonde got up and put on her shoes, signalling that she was ready to talk to you outside.

For a while the two of you walked silently on the sand which felt still warm under your naked feet.

“So, you and Keira, huh?”, Leah broke the silence, sounding more curious than mad this time.

“Yeah.”, you answered timidly.

“Since when?” the defender continued asking.

“We got closer when she came to Barcelona.”, you confessed.

“That was forever ago.”, she noted slightly hurt by your reply.

“Yes, but we just started dating a few months ago.”, you added quickly. This much was true. Undoubtedly, you always had a soft spot for your sister’s best friend. The more time you two spend together, the more it became obvious that there was more than just friendship.

“And you didn’t tell me.”, Leah swallowed hard through that realization.

“You didn’t ask me.”, you reminded her.

“If you’re dating my best friend? How was I supposed to know.”, she retorted.

“No, in general, it’s mostly about you when you call me.”, you countered.

“I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. But I thought you’d tell me such things.”, the defender apologized, her skin despite the tan turned pale.

“It’s okay. I guess we weren’t great sisters for each other recently.”, you admitted guiltily.

Leah nodded in reluctant agreement: “I guess we weren’t.“

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable but thoughtful.

“But we could do better now.“, you said determinedly,

Your sister stopped walking. You only realized that wasn’t on your side anymore after a few more steps.

You turned towards her and caught her staring at you.

“Y/n?“, she asked.

“Yes?“

“Are you happy?“

You smiled at her: “Very.“

“With Kei?“

“Yes.“, you confirmed again.

Leah studied your face for a moment, searching for any indication of a lie before she finally nodded once: “Okay.“

“Okay?“, you echoed with hopefulness in your voice. You didn’t want to fight with your sister. You wanted her and Keira in your life.

Leah kicked up some sand with her shoe: “Yes, okay. I think I can live with that.“

“Good.“, you beamed and slowly continued your walk, waiting for your sister to take her place by your side again.

You thought your talk was over when your sister suddenly spoke up again: “Y/n?“

You looked at her, signalling her to continue.

“Just because you live a life outside of the public eye doesn’t mean I’m not interested in your life or I’m not proud of you.“

Her words caught you by surprise. You frowned at her in confusion. “Wait, you’re proud of me?“

“Why do you sound so surprised? Obviously I’m proud of you.“

You stared down at the fine sand under your feet: “Sorry.“

Another break in your conversation arose. Apparently, struggling to express your emotions properly ran in your family.

“Not everyone has the bravery to go abroad for work… I would not.“, Leah continued.

You looked back up at her: “Really?“

She nodded slowly: “You know how much I love home. And Arsenal. I just couldn’t.“

Hearing this filled you with pride but at the same time, you had to suppress a smile because you really couldn’t imagine your sister anywhere else.

“True, you’re such a homebody.“, you laughed.

Your sister smirked and gave you a small shrug: “See, we’re just very different.“

“Yes, but that’s okay.“, you assured her. You could feel the tension dissolve slowly.

Leah raised an eyebrow: “I will still have to talk to Keira though.“

You let out a groan: “Oh no, not the big sister talk.“

“Oh yes, even for my best friend.“

“Fine, but try and be nice, okay?“, you asked innocently.

“Of course.“

“Thank you.“

She reached over and ruffled through your blonde hair: “Anything for my little sister.“

You tried to get revenge. You two were laughing like children while you chased her down the beach.

You never heard anything about their talk. Both Keira and Leah refused to tell you anything and stubbornly maintained their silence. You didn’t care anyway. They seemed closer than ever and that was all that mattered to you.

The next days were spend at the beach, enjoying the sun and the refreshing coolness of the sea.

“No. I’m not going into the water.“ Keira shook her head determinedly. She had spend the morning straightening her hair but to you, that was not a reason to miss out on swimming.

“Come on.“ You impatiently pulled at her arm.

Leah appeared on Keiras other side, pushing her forward. “You better go now.“

Together you barrelled towards the sea, falling over each as soon as you reached the water. The rest of your friend group burst out laughing,

Keira pushed her now wet hair back. It started to curl at the ends already.

“I hate you Williamsons!“, she laughed.

You kissed her cheek: “No, you don’t.“

“Not really, no.“, Keira admitted and pulled you towards her by your waist to kiss you.

Leah grimaced in disgust: “Okay, but you don’t have to kiss in front of me.“

“Stop complaining.“, you rolled your eyes.

Keira grinned at her: “You better get used to it, Lee.“

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anastasiabowe · 8 months

Text

𝘾𝙃𝘼 𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂! — Your husbands who just can’t say no to your cute little face, but sometimes that comes with a cost you will have to pay.

note: This one came to me in a DREAM. I want a man like this, so why not make my man like this?🤷🏽‍♀️

Content warnings: overstim, piv, punishment, rich husband, spanking, tough love, swearing, anything else 17+

★ — 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜

Nanami loved when you were happy. It wasn’t even a happy wife happy life situation, it was a I love seeing her smile situation. He never denied you of any expensive item you wanted. I mean how could he say no to you? He watched as you practically skipped around the mall with his black card, showcasing it if anyone who glanced at you.

He smirked seeing you happy, but yet he felt a little disappointed by your lack of self control. He knew what he was getting into when he pulled out that million dollar ring. His strong arms were lined with black bags and name brands, your hands only holding his card and one small bag. He didn’t mind though, as long as you were happy!

But don’t think he lets you get away with everything! If you have an attitude after this shopping spree, which you do, he will punish you, and that’s because he loves you! It was an agreement, if you can spend his cash, he can use you, or what he likes to say, “enjoy you.”

“Nanamin!” You whined as your new set of black nails tried to push his stomach away.

“Yes?” His deep, yet professional voice oh so casually responded, despite his deep thrusts.

“P-please slow down! I can’t t-take it!” He chuckled at you, you were too cute to ignore, but this is what you deserve! You spent thousands of dollars today, and when he simply asked “are you almost done?” You give an attitude? Oh no, no, no. You weren’t going to get away with that.

“I’m sorry baby, just wanna show you who’s paying for everything you bought today. Just wanna show you who you were giving an attitude to.” He started to speed up, and you cried from the amount of orgasms you’ve had.

“Just one more, then you can have a break.” He kissed your head, and readjusted his position, you both know it won’t be one more.

★ — 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜

Toji hated when you spent his money. And what I mean by hate, I mean he will hand you his card and regret it later. You’re actually a modest shopper. You have a bit of an expensive taste, but you have respect for Toji enough to not go crazy. But when Toji had handed you his card at the mall and gave you and said something back handed, you went a little wild.

You bought new heels, expensive jeans, expensive make up, expensive bags. You swiped his card until your hand had a rectangular shape from how hard you gripped it while you tapped it to the card reader.

When Toji later that night checked all of the receipts (which you purposely got so he could see how mad you were) he nearly blew a fuse. $10,000 worth of items you bought. Even though that is nearly nothing compared to how much is in his bank account, it was the principle of it.

“I give you my fucking card only for you to use it like a fucking piece of plastic.” His hand smacked your left ass cheek, making you dig your nails into his thigh.

“I-I’m sorry!” You cried. He rubbed his hand over the deep red mark, and tsked.

“I bet you are.” He landed two more hits to your left and right cheek. You let out a whimper and he ripped both of your cheeks again.

“$10,000, y/n. What were you shopping for, a house?” He chuckled at his own joke, but you didn’t find this funny. He landed another smack. “What made you think that was ok?”

You sniffled from crying and the rage you felt earlier burned through your body again. “Maybe if you didn’t call me a gold digger, yo I wouldn’t be $10,000 poorer!”

The word “poor” irked something in him he hasn’t felt in a while. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head up.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth, I’m the one who fucking pays for your shit.” He spat, you frown, and your bottom lip slowly popped out. He knew what you were doing, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Nah, don’t pull that shit.” He smirked, but the longer he looked at your face the more guilty he felt.

“Y/n.” He warned. You continued to look at him with that face, and he sighed. “You spoiled brat.” He let go of your hair, and moved you to straddle him.

“Just don’t be spending my money all crazy ‘n shit.” You nodded, and he rolled his eyes.

You always fucking win.

#jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #kento nanami x black reader smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x black reader

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likedovesinthewindd · 2 months

Text

CLOSE TO YOU — a. donaldson

summary: your marriage to art has been on the rocks for months now, but he refuses to give up on it | content/warning: failmarriage au, arguing, undescribed marital issues, marriage counseling, mentions of divorce, angst to smut/fluff. | wc: ± 3370

For as long as you've known Art, you never knew him as a quiet person. He was perhaps a little shy at first, but he was known for his outgoing personality amongst his friends and anyone who had the opportunity to an exciting conquest with him back in Standford, which admittedly was a handful.

He's changed somewhat since then, settled down, and created a successful yet comfortable life for himself, but he still stayed that same charming, outgoing man you fell in love with back in college.

You never knew Art to be a quiet person, which is why the silence that filled the car unnerved you so much.

You spared him a look from where you sat quietly in the passenger's seat; he didn't look mad, just very deep in thought as he held the steering wheel with a stiff, white-knuckling grip, eyes dead set on the stretch of road in front of him.

Usually, the silence would be filled by mindless chatter, Art always finding something to talk about, and if it was quiet, it would feel comfortable and light. Right now, it felt like there was some uncomfortable tension in the air, thick enough that you could cut it with a knife.

You sighed softly, resting your head on your palm as you chose to stare out the window, watching the various objects move past in a unanimous blur. Your thoughts circled back to today's session, your seventh one to be exact, and it felt like you have gotten nowhere with it. You'll also admit that it was partially because of you and your initial withdrawal to the whole situation.

Art was the one who suggested marriage counseling, in his way it might've been his last attempt at salvaging what was left of the marriage and because you were just as desperate for a solution, you agreed to it.

You had hoped that the tense atmosphere would dissipate by the time the two of you made it home, but by now you were getting ready for bed and he had still only spoken a few sentences to you. You were already underneath the sheets, rubbing lotion into your arms when he made his way into your bedroom, hair still wet and body still glistening from his shower.

You watched the way he moved around the room almost stiffly, watching the way his back muscles moved and contacted as he quietly dressed himself before he moved to sit at his side of the bed. He let out a soft sigh, and at the sound, you moved from beneath the sheets until you sat behind him, rubbing his back softly as your hand moved over the soft cotton of his shirt.

"Art," you said softly. He hummed, turning his head slightly as he looked at you over his shoulder. "You alright?" you asked, and he sighed again, nodding before he put his head in his hands. "I'm okay, just frustrated," he answered as he lifted his head again, hands smoothing his hair down before they dropped down to his knees. You moved back to your side of the bed, sitting on top of the sheets and crossing your legs as he turned his body, now facing you fully.

"I feel like the counseling isn't working," he said softly as he looked you at you, half scared at what your reaction would be. You bit the inside your cheek as he continued. "We've had several sessions, and it feels like we're still exactly where we started," he added, "It's also difficult when you're not cooperating." His voice was softer and tentative, like he was approaching a wild animal in distress with now idea of how it would react.

You frowned at his words. "What?" you asked. "You can't expect her to just know what's wrong if you don't talk. You're always so closed off at every session. What's the point of going if you're not gonna try and talk?" he asked. You sighed defeatedly, today's session (and those before) replaying in your head, making you cringe slightly at how uncomfortable and stressful the whole ordeal has been.

"I'm trying, Art," you said weakly, "but it's difficult just talking about our personal life to some stranger."

"Then how did you expect this to work? Why would you agree to this if you knew that's how you felt?" he asked, slight irritation now audible in his voice. "I don't know, I wanted to make you happy?" you said as you shrugged. A dry laugh left Art's mouth at your words. "To make me happy?" he asked in disbelief before he shook his head disapprovingly. "Y'know what would make me happy?" he asked, not waiting for a response before continuing. "I'd be so happy if you actually tried to fix our marriage, if you actually cared."

"I do care," you said, the same irritation in Art now reflecting in your own voice. "It doesn't look like it," he quickly retorted with a scoff. "How could you say that? That I don't care about our marriage?" you asked, watching as he angrily rubbed over his face, his gold wedding band catching your eyes. The sight of it made your stomach churn nervously, the idea that your marriage may be unsalvageable at this point, making you feel light-headed with anxiety. "I just miss the way things were," he spoke in a softer tone, "I just want us to be okay agian."

"I want that too, Art," you said softly as he nodded. "Then show it," he said, "show me that's what you want."

"How?" you asked, growing more frustrated at his defensiveness. "I want you to actually try with counseling," he answered, and you groaned loudly. "I am trying!" you said irritated, "I just need some time."

"We don't have time," he reasoned, "our marriage can't depend on whenever you feel like it." "That's not what I'm saying," you said angrily. "Why are you trying to make it look like I want our marriage to fall apart?"

"Because I don't think you're taking this seriously, this," he gestured between the two of you, "maybe it's beyond the point of fixing." As soon as Art saw the way your face changed at his words, felt the way the mood shifted completely, he wanted to swallow the words. But he was too angry, and now it was too late because he had already said it, and it already hammered the final nail into the coffin.

"What are you trying to say?" you asked softly, voice suddenly small. He didn't answer, his fingers nervously fidgeting with his wedding ring as he saw the hurt on your face. When it was clear you weren't going to get a response, you sighed defeatedly, grabbing your pillow before you wordlessly made your way to the guest bedroom.

⊹ ˚.

As you laid in the smaller bed that night, your head was reeling. The pit in your stomach made it impossible to fall asleep and every time you closed your eyes, your mind started torturing you with the sight of Art's exhausted and angry face staring back at you as he said the words you thought you'd never hear. The words both of you had feared for so long.

The door suddenly cracked open, light spilling in through the gap and shining onto your back as it faced Art, standing in the doorway as he watched your silhouette's soft breathing underneath the sheets. He quietly made his way into the room until he reached the edge of your bed, planting himself there softly as his hand gently rubbed over your arm.

He knew you weren't asleep, but he still kept his voice soft as he spoke into the quiet space. "Sweetheart?" he tried softly, hand gently pulling the blanket down your arm before he planted a kiss to your warm skin. A few more followed, his lips touching you tentatively. "Can we talk? Please?" he spoke against your skin, his breath tickling your arm and sending a shiver up your spine. Reluctantly, you turned around, propping yourself on your elbows as you looked up at him.

Art's first thought when he looked at you was that you looked so beautiful, the hallway's light catching your face and brightening your eyes as they stared at him with sadness still present in them. He could see the still wet tracks your tears had left behind, your eyes slightly puffy and nose stuffy. And even though he felt terrible — wanting the world to swallow him whole and banish him for ever making you cry, he still thought you looked so beautiful.

His hand held the side of your face gently, thumb wiping away the last remnants of tears as he stared at you wordlessly, silently rejoicing when you didn't push away his touch but welcomed it, eyes briefly closing when you felt the warmth against your skin. Art was always such a gentle lover, always so pliant ro your needs and caring, even now, after what you'd consider the biggest fight you've ever had.

"I'm so sorry for making you cry, baby," he said softly, watching the way you brows furrow at the memory of a while ago, willing yourself to not cry again. "I should've never said those terrible things to you. You didn't deserve that," he added, thumb still gently rubbing over the apple of your cheek.

You took a deep breath as you tried to find the right words in your head. "Do you really think I don't care about our marriage, Art?" you asked softly, voice scratchy from crying. Art immediately shook his head vehemently, frowning at your words. "No, of course not," he said, the other hand joining as he now held your face in his full grasp, "I was just— I was angry, and I wanted to get back at you. It was childish and mean, and I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I feel awful,"

You took ahold of his wrist, relishing in his warmth and presence as you felt yourself finally calming down. "I'm sorry too," you said softly, your thumbs rubbing over his wrists as you held him close. "No, you don't have to apologize," he said, pulling your face closer to yours and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You wanted to sob at how gently he treated you. "No Art, I was—"

"Let me show you how sorry I am," he spoke, kissing down your cheek, along your jaw and down your neck. His lips quickly found that special spot behind your ear that made you shiver. He moved impossibly closer to you, wrapping his arms around your body as you held the back of his head. Before you could completely lose yourself in the feeling of his body molding itself to yours, you found your voice of reason. "Art, we should probably—" you started in what would would've been a weak protest, but he interrupted you.

"Let me do this for you, please," he pleaded as he pulled away from your neck and gently placed his forehead against yours, big blue eyes set on you with an almost desperate look. His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, and even if you wanted to do the logical thing and rather sit down like two adults and talk things out, the dull ache between your legs was drowning out any reasonable thoughts you may have had.

You only nodded, and Art didn't waste a second more, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that was desperate and sloppy and filled with passion. He moaned into your mouth when you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to greedily lick inside your mouth.

Art lightly pushed forward until you were lying flat on your back and he found his place between your spread legs. The silky fabric of your nightdress rode up your thighs as you spread your legs further apart to make space for his broad figure, leaving him with the sight of your lavender colored cotton panties, the small damp spot in the center making him a little breathless.

He continued kissing you dumb, his hands feeling and grabbing every part of you as if he was trying to refamiliarize himself with the territory that is your soft body. His mouth once again found its place on your neck, burying his nose into the skin there and smelling the magnolia and coconut of your lotion. His mouth found your sweet spot once again, and he sucked and bit at the area greedily. Your legs clamped together at the feeling, obstructed by his hips that were steadily grinding down onto yours, creating a delicious friction that had you feeling delirious.

"Take off your shirt, Art," you managed through soft mewls, hands already lifting the material by his stomach. He rose quickly, taking the shirt off in one quick pull over his head. You were mesmerized by the way his lithe muscles moved, exposing himself to you as the ajar door cast his beautifully pale body in a soft yellow glow.

You propped yourself onto your right arm as your left hand moved up the hard plains of his stomach, enjoying the feeling of every ridge and muscles underneath your palm. He grabbed onto your hand, bringing it to his mouth as he planted a soft kiss to each knuckle, lips lingering on your wedding ring before opening your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

He kissed down your arm, his lips leaving a hot trail behind and setting your whole body alight. Your head dropped back down onto the pillow as his mouth was now on your collarbones, kissing and biting there as his hands moved up your body until they got ahold of your tits. He squeezed the soft mounds of flesh in his big hands, pressing them together before pressing more kisses to the sliver of skin poking out from the cups of your nightdress. You placed one of your hands over his, encouraging him to tighten his grip as you arched into his touch. He obeyed, giving them a harder squeeze this time and gawking at the way you moaned softly, nodding happily as he fondled your tits.

Suddenly, they were met with the cold air of the bedroom as Art harshly pulled down the straps of your dress, exposing your pretty tits to him before his mouth was your left breast and his left hand went to softly massage the other.

You further arched into the feeling of his mouth on you, holding him to you by the back of his head, fingers curling into the soft blond locks there and pulling on them whenever he gave you a particularly harsh suck.

"Art," you moaned quietly as your hips bucked into his, shivering at the just there stimulation to your clit. His mouth detached from your breast before he was moving up to kiss you again, almost doubling over at the way you moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He pulled away too quick for your liking, looking down at you as his nose nudged against yours. "What do you want?" he asked breathlessly, hips still rolling into yours at a pace too slow to really get you over that peak but enough to keep you on the edge of it. "Tell me what you want, baby. I wanna give it to you. Y'know I'd give you whatever you need," he asked again. "Y'know what I want, Art," you practically whined, and he smiled, giving you another quick kiss before he was moving down your body.

Soon, he was face to face with your pretty panties, staring right at the now significantly bigger wet spot as you spread your legs wider. He placed a soft kiss over your panties, right on your mound before he placed another kiss right over your drenched hole, which clenched around nothing when he finally placed a kiss right over your clit. He looked up to find you already peering down at him, eyes desperate and pleading as you softly scratched the back of his back of his head, trying to urge him on.

He was quick to rip the ruined fabric off of you, throwing it somewhere in the half lit room before he grabbed your legs by the back of your knees to bring them over his shoulders. The first feeling of his mouth on you had you gasping, the sound ending in an abrupt moan as you felt him licking through your folds.

He ate you out like a man starved, moaning into your pussy every time you pulled at his hair, the vibrations only adding to the heavenly feeling. He licked into you like it was pure honey, tongue dipping into your wet hole and lapping up all of your juices.

When his mouth found your clit and sucked lightly, rolling the small pearl over his tongue, he had you seeing stars, babbling praises through broken moans. You were essentially just using his pretty face to get off, nose nudging against your clit as you basically rode his face, and he'd let you every time.

His own hips were pushing into the mattress below, looking for any bit of relief as he watched the way your face twisted in pleasure. The sight alone had him throbbing painfully, and he had to stop himself from coming in his boxes like a teenager.

He was absolutely starstruck at how beautiful you looked when you came, eyes still on you as he lapped at your pussy hungrily as you practically humped his face, riding out your orgasm before you went boneless and you pulled at his hair with a small whine, telling him you were overstimulated. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he planted kisses as he moved back up your body, up your sternum, and between the valley of your breasts before his lips found yours again.

"So fucking beautiful," he spoke against your lips as he kissed you sloppily, "prettiest girl in the world. I'm so lucky to call you mine." You smiled against his mouth, hand moving down his body until you softly touched him over the material of his boxers. He moaned, hips thrusting into your hand as you tightened your grip on him. "Art," you whispered, hoping he'd get the message, which he did, thankfully. He hastily pushed his boxers off before he was gripping himself at the base and lining himself up at your entrance.

The stretch felt otherworldly, just the right amount of pressure without it actually hurting, thanks to how wet you already were. His was knocking the breath out of you, but your greedy pussy kept sucking him in until you were full to the brim. The both of you took a few deep breaths as Art's head dropped to your neck, planting soft kisses there as he waited for you to adjust.

When you indicated you were ready, he pulled out just a little before he was pushing back into you again. He grabbed the backs of your knees as he brought your legs higher up on his hips. There was nothing too special about the position as Art slowly fucked you in missionary, but it still felt so good. Everything with Art always felt so good, he always made you feel so good, and you were already seeing stars as he slowly fucked into you.

You held him close to you, relishing in his warmth as he babbled mindlessly. "God, I love you so much," he said, "M'so sorry I was so mean to you. I don't deserve you. Love you so much. Love this pussy too, love everything about you."

"I love you too, baby," you said breathlessly through a small laugh that turned into a moan when he hit that special spot inside you. "Oh baby, right there. Right there, fuck," you exclaimed, "I'm so close."

His hand moved down your body until he reached your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing gently. He hissed when he felt you clench around his dick, sucking him right back in every time he pulled out. "M'gonna cum, please don't stop baby," you moaned, bolts of pleasure shooting up you spine as you arched your back, tits pressing against Art's taunt chest.

He was in complete awe of you; watching the way your mouth parted in a soundless moan as the last wave of plessure washed over you. He kept his eyes on you as you came, watching the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as a few short breaths and then a gasp left your pretty lips. The sight beneath him paired with the way your pussy was sporadically tightening around him was enough to send him over the edge as well, and a few short thrusts later he cumming right along you.

He practically collapsed on top of you, still shifting most of his weight as to not crush you, but you welcomed it, humming happily as he laid his head against your chest as the two of you caught your breath. After a few moments, he lifted his head, planting a kiss to your damp forehead, watching the way you smiled with your eyes still closed. He pulled out slowly, apologizing softly when you gave light protest, before he made his way to the bathroom.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the white splotches in your vision as you took a deep breath. Art returned with a hot towel, quietly cleaning you up and fixing your nightdress before he was lifting you into his arms and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

He held you close to him, arm wrapped around you as you as you laid with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. "I'm gonna try and open up a little more in our next session," you spoke up in the silence, "I want this to work out for us." Art kissed the top of your head. "We'll go at whatever pace, there's no rush. I shouldn't have made you feel like there ever was," he spoke against your hair before he pulled away. You turned your head so that you were looking at him.

For a moment you had almost asked him if he really thought you'd be able to fix this marriage, but you didn't want to disturb the peace, so you just gave him a small smile, kissing his chest before you placed your head back down, drifting to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fic #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers x reader #likedovesinthewindd

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iconchae · 19 days

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DRAGON’S TEMPTRESS ➽ S.JY/JAKE | 18+

pairing: dragon ! jake × temptress ! afab! reader

synopsis: in a world where mystical beings existed. the dragon knight jake found himself lost in the mystical forest with the temptress he absolutely disliked.

genre: fantasy + smut

warnings: smut so mdni, mentions of killing, cruelity, contains cuss words, uses of terms like (seduction, etc), nsfw, kisses, unprotected sex, not proofread so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes, pet names, teasing, overstimulation, rough sex, marking, unrealistic sex (?), everything is consensual! lmk if i missed anything.

word count: 7.47k

a/n: damn- it's kinda embarassing seeing my last two fics because they're so low effort made, but here is one high effort fic as apology. also, I do accept requests, don't hesitate to send in. though I might only pick if I have ideas about what to write in it, thank you :3

Jake's heavy eyelids fluttered closed, the warmth of her core pressing against his groin through layers of clothing. His hands gripped her thighs, firm and toned beneath his touch, as she rocked against him.

"You..." he moaned, his voice husky with desire as he struggled to maintain consciousness. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage like a wild animal, as the sensation of her pussy grinding against him became overwhelming.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jake's body convulsed. He spilled into his pants, the warmth spreading through the fabric as he let out a guttural moan. His limbs grew heavy, and he slumped back against his pillow, eyes flying open to take in his familiar, empty room.

"No..." he whispered, disbelieving. He ran a hand through his disheveled, dark hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands. His gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of her presence, but finding only shadows and the faint glow of his bedside lamp.

In a world where mystical creatures like unicorns, mermaids, and dragons roamed freely, Jake stood out as the kingdom's most revered dragon knight. Yet, despite his esteemed position, he faced a challenge unlike any other.

In this seemingly perfect realm existed temptresses—enigmatic beings who could manipulate minds. Their power was insidious; they would seduce their prey, leaving them vulnerable and disoriented, only to fulfill their dark desires. These temptresses thrived on the torment and eventual destruction of those they ensnared.

Jake was currently under the spell of one such temptress. She had invaded his dreams, weaving illusions that blurred the line between reality and fantasy. As he slept, her seductive visions preyed upon his deepest desires, weakening his resolve and leaving him at her mercy.

Perched high on a branch in the enchanted forest, you munched on the forbidden fruit with a nonchalant air. The forest below bustled with the movement of various mystical creatures, all oblivious to the seductress watching from above. The fruit’s sweet, tangy flavor contrasted sharply with the tension you felt simmering in the air.

As you prepared to leave, intent on avoiding any unnecessary entanglements, a sudden jolt yanked you from your perch. The net, expertly crafted and nearly invisible among the foliage, ensnared you before you could react. The world spun as you tumbled down, the net tangling around you and tightening with each movement.

You landed with a thud, the net’s constricting embrace rendering you immobile. A pair of strong arms swept you up effortlessly, cradling you in a bridal hold. The sudden proximity left you disoriented, your heartbeat quickening not only from the fall but from the undeniable heat of the contact.

Jake, the famed dragon knight whose armor bore the fiery emblem of his order, was your captor. His grip was firm and unyielding, his muscles tensed with purpose as he adjusted his hold. You attempted to wriggle free, your efforts hampered by the net’s confining weave.

“Let me go, you bastard,” you spat, your voice laced with irritation and defiance. You glared up at him, feeling the heat of his body through the thin layer of your clothing.

Jake’s eyes, hardened by countless battles and encounters with creatures like you, softened slightly. He didn’t release his hold but adjusted you carefully in his arms, his breath warm against your skin.

“Just keep quiet, and I might spare your life,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff. The tension in his tone was palpable, mingling with an undercurrent of something more—something that neither of you fully understood.

The net fell away, rustling softly as Jake laid you gently on the grass. The lush, emerald blades cushioned your fall, contrasting sharply with the harsh reality of your predicament. As you lay there, the remnants of the net still clinging to your limbs, you made a deliberate effort to mask your frustration with a sultry smile.

"Can you take this off?" you asked, your voice a soft purr laced with temptation. Your eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and challenge as you gazed up at him, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool grass.

Jake's expression hardened, his jaw tightening with resolve. "Stop talking in that tone," he commanded, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. The firmness in his tone was as unyielding as the grip he had on the net moments before.

His gaze swept over you, taking in the sight of your revealing attire—fabric that clung to you, accentuating every curve and movement.

The other knights, standing a few paces away, stared openly. Their eyes, filled with a mix of lust and admiration, roamed over your form. Jake’s eyes darkened as he took in the scene, and his protective instincts flared.

"Anyone who looks at her will have their head chopped off," he threatened, his voice sharp and commanding. The knights, well accustomed to Jake’s authority and reputation, averted their eyes immediately. They knew better than to defy the dragon knight, whose stature and prowess were renowned across the kingdom.

Jake knelt beside you, his movements deliberate and careful. His armor clinked softly as he moved, the fire symbol on his chest gleaming in the filtered light.

As he began to remove the net from around you, his fingers brushed against your skin with an unexpected tenderness. The contact was fleeting but charged, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Despite his evident disdain for your kind, there was a hint of something softer in his actions—a conflict between duty and a grudging respect. The softness in his touch as he disentangled the net seemed at odds with the harshness of his words.

As the last of the net fell away, you stretched out on the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath you. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong momentarily stilled.

As you perched atop Jake in his dragon form, the world below was a shifting blur of greens and browns. The forest stretched out endlessly, its vast expanse a tangled maze of trees and shadows. The sensation of flying was exhilarating, but also slightly disorienting as the wind whipped past you, ruffling your hair and catching in your clothes.

Jake’s powerful wings beat rhythmically, sending gusts of wind that tugged at you. His scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight, a blend of deep emeralds and brilliant golds, each movement a testament to his formidable strength. The sensation of his warm, scaled body beneath you was both thrilling and oddly comforting, though the situation was far from ideal.

“How long is it gonna take till we reach the kingdom?” you asked, your voice carrying just above the roar of the wind. You tried to steady yourself, your fingers gripping the thick, ridged scales along Jake’s neck for balance.

“Few days,” Jake rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl that vibrated through his body. His irritation was palpable, though he made a concerted effort to mask it. The dragon's form shifted slightly as he adjusted his flight path, the trees below becoming a distant, swaying sea of green.

His wings flared out, catching the wind to give him more lift, and you felt a sudden surge of speed. The rush of air was invigorating but also made it harder to hold on. “Can you hold a little tighter? I don’t want you to fall,” he added, his tone more commanding than before.

You obliged, wrapping your arms securely around his neck. “As you say, master,” you replied with a playful lilt. You patted his dragon head affectionately, a gesture that felt more like a tease than a comfort. The sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable.

Jake huffed a low, rumbling sigh, a sound that reverberated through his massive frame. “Gosh, I can’t help but want to kill you the second we reach the kingdom,” he muttered, his frustration barely masked by the wind. His eyes, fierce and focused, scanned the horizon.

“If you want to kill me, then I’ll just jump off from here,” you said, your tone light but laced with an undercurrent of challenge. You glanced down at the dizzying height, your heart skipping a beat as the ground seemed to shift far below.

“Go ahead,” Jake retorted, his voice indifferent but with a hint of something darker. The other knights were a distant speck in the sky, visible only as tiny figures walking through the forest beneath.

You shivered at the thought, your bravado faltering as you peered down. The dizzying drop was more intimidating than you had anticipated. “Nevermind,” you muttered, a touch of fear creeping into your voice as you tightened your grip around his neck.

Jake let out a throaty chuckle, the sound echoing in the open sky. “Is the temptress scared?” he teased, a mischievous edge to his tone. The playful challenge in his voice was a stark contrast to his earlier irritation.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, though you were thankful Jake couldn’t see it. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, though you tried to keep your voice steady. The wind was now a gentle breeze, cooling the sweat on your brow.

The vast forest below seemed endless, and the realization that you were still lost made the situation feel even more surreal. Jake’s powerful form cut through the air with ease, but the dense canopy of trees below made navigation challenging.

The other knights, having stopped to rest, were visible only as tiny, distant figures, their presence a reassuring reminder that you weren’t entirely alone in this vast wilderness.

As Jake adjusted his flight path again, you snuggled closer against his neck, finding some semblance of warmth and security despite the bizarre circumstances.

Jake’s scales were warm against your body, and despite his gruff exterior, there was an undeniable gentleness in his movements as he maneuvered through the air. The forest below seemed to open up slightly, hinting at a possible path forward, and you could only hope that the journey would soon come to an end.

You nestled closer into Jake’s shoulder, the cool night air wrapping around you as the canopy of trees above rustled gently in the breeze. Jake’s human form was a striking contrast to his dragon self, his muscles tense beneath his dark tunic. His eyes, normally fierce and commanding, now held a hint of weariness as he looked out over the vast expanse of the forest.

The knights had settled into their tents below, their murmurs and the occasional clink of metal barely audible from your elevated perch. The firelight from their campfires flickered, casting long, eerie shadows on the forest floor. The tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the sudden appearance of one of the five knights.

The knight emerged from the shadows of the tent, his face pale and drawn. His footsteps were hurried and uneven, a stark contrast to the usually composed demeanor of the king’s men. “Master,” he called urgently, his voice trembling slightly as he approached Jake and you on the branch. “I think we’ve entered the Blood Forest.”

Jake’s body went rigid, his expression morphing from relaxed to alarmed in an instant. His head whipped around, eyes locking onto the knight with a sharp, predatory focus. “Huh?” he muttered, his voice low and concerned.

You lifted your head from Jake’s shoulder, a frown tugging at your lips as you took in the knight’s anxious demeanor. “Blood Forest?” you echoed, your voice tinged with confusion and a touch of unease. The name sounded ominous, but you had no context to understand its full implications.

The knight swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously around the forest as if the trees themselves might suddenly come alive. “I’m not sure, but we’ve crossed the line from the Mystical Forest into the Blood Forest. It’s supposed to be dangerous… extremely dangerous.”

Jake’s expression hardened, a scowl forming as he processed the information. The Blood Forest was a place of brutal, untamed wilderness, known for its vicious creatures and treacherous terrain. The stories of its cruelty were legendary, told to scare even the bravest of souls.

“You’re telling me we’re in the Blood Forest?” Jake’s voice was taut with barely suppressed frustration, his eyes flashing with an intensity that made you shiver. “The forest that’s notorious for its savagery?”

The knight nodded, his face pale under the dim light. “Yes, Master. I’m afraid so. We’ve passed the boundary. The trees here are not the red ones the tales speak of, but we’re definitely in the Blood Forest.”

You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, the sarcasm evident in your tone. “I knew this dragon knew nothing about his own kingdom’s mystical forest. Entered the wrong arena, wow.” The comment was a reflexive jab, meant more to amuse yourself than to provoke Jake, but he shot you a fiery glare in response.

A wave of tension surged between you, palpable and heavy. Jake’s eyes, usually so controlled, now blazed with a mix of anger and stress. The thought of impending danger was clearly weighing on him, though he tried to mask his anxiety. You met his gaze with a sheepish smile, hoping it would diffuse some of the tension.

The knight’s voice trembled as he spoke again. “What should we do, Master? Do we leave now? We’re at great risk here, especially with nightfall approaching.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, his mind racing through the options. He knew that leaving the safety of the tree canopy in the dead of night would increase their chances of encountering the forest’s dangerous inhabitants.

His decision came after a long, tense pause. “We’re staying for the night,” he finally said, his voice firm and resolute. “Tell the others to keep their ears open for any threats. We need to be vigilant.”

The knight nodded quickly, relief mingling with his fear as he bowed deeply to Jake before retreating back to the camp. His footsteps were hasty, eager to escape the daunting presence of the dragon knight and the temptress.

As the knight disappeared into the shadows, you glanced back at Jake, noticing the slight tremor in his hands. His formidable exterior masked the uncertainty that lay beneath. You could sense the weight of the situation pressing down on him, a pressure that seemed almost too great to bear.

You turned towards Jake, who was seated beside you, his form silhouetted against the dim glow of the fire below. “Hey, dragon,” you said, a playful smirk on your lips.

Jake’s eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of irritation and tired resolve. “It’s Jake,” he replied, his voice clipped and firm.

“Whatever, dragon,” you dismissed with a nonchalant wave of your hand. You rose from the branch, preparing to climb down and head towards the tent where the other knights were settling for the night.

Before you could make your descent, Jake’s strong hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a surprising firmness. He pulled you back towards him, his arm wrapping around your waist in a way that kept you close against his chest. The closeness was unexpected and intimate, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You're sleeping with me,” Jake declared, his tone brooking no argument.

You arched an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Woah, you’re so straightforward, aren’t you?”

Jake’s brow furrowed, realizing that you had misunderstood his intent. His irritation was palpable as he shifted his gaze to you, his eyes cold and steely. “I want you to sleep with me in the tent because I don’t want to wake up and find you escaping.”

His smirk held a dark undertone, a reminder of the king’s decree and the danger you were in. “After all, the king would like to kill you,” he added, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

You rolled your eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips. “Whatever you say, dragon.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “I said, it’s Jake.” His voice was low and dangerous, the irritation clear in his tone. His gaze was a mix of exhaustion and growing annoyance, tired of the constant disregard for his name.

From their positions around the fire, the other knights watched the exchange with barely suppressed amusement. A few chuckled softly, their laughter muffled by the tense atmosphere.

The moment their laughter reached Jake’s ears, his head whipped around, his eyes flashing dangerously. The knights quickly fell silent, their expressions shifting to one of anxious respect as they met the dragon knight’s fierce glare

The next day, the blood Forest loomed around you, its twisted trees and crimson leaves casting eerie shadows as you and Jake continued your perilous journey.

The air was thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant cries of unseen creatures. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to press in on you from all sides, adding to the growing tension between you and Jake.

You clung to Jake’s back, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carried you through the dense foliage. The discomfort of being trapped in the forest combined with the constant gnawing of your own urges was beginning to take its toll. As a temptress, the prolonged deprivation was becoming unbearable.

In a moment of impulsive need, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Jake’s neck. The sensation of your lips against his skin sent a shiver through him, and you noticed the area where your kiss had touched began to take on an unusual hue—an eerie yellowish-orange that seemed to radiate warmth.

Jake stumbled slightly, his powerful wings faltering as he let out a frustrated growl. “What... What the hell are you doing?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion, his eyes flashing with both irritation and something more complex.

You pulled back slightly, feigning innocence. “Sorry, I couldn’t control myself,” you said, your tone soft and sheepish. But the glint in your eyes betrayed your lack of genuine remorse.

Jake’s frustration was palpable. His wings flared as he tried to steady himself, the unusual color on his neck making him more agitated. “You think this is a joke? We’re in a perilous situation, and you’re—”

His words trailed off as he caught a glimpse of your face. Despite his irritation, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an almost helpless frustration mixed with a begrudging attraction. His jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

You remained close, your hands gripping him tightly as you tried to suppress a smirk. The kiss had done its work, igniting a complicated blend of emotions within Jake. The yellowish mark on his neck, though unusual, seemed to only intensify the volatile mix of irritation and desire.

“I didn’t mean to distract you,” you said with a teasing lilt, though your eyes softened slightly. “But you can’t deny that you like it a little.”

Jake shot you a sharp look, his expression torn between anger and reluctant amusement. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice had softened somewhat. His wings steadied, and he resumed flying, albeit with a tense energy that hinted at the internal struggle he was facing.

As you settled back into your position, the tension between you crackled in the air. Despite the dire situation, the undeniable chemistry between you and Jake created an unexpected undercurrent of attraction.

The forest might have been a dangerous place, but it was also forging a connection between you and the dragon knight that neither of you could ignore.

At night, it cloaked the Blood Forest in an even deeper darkness, the trees casting elongated shadows under the dim light of a crescent moon. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, interrupted only by the distant, eerie calls of nocturnal creatures. Inside this tense atmosphere, the interplay of desire and danger was about to unfold.

You approached one of the knights, the king's favored protector aside from Jake. Your seductive gaze was a weapon of its own, capable of ensnaring even the most disciplined of men.

The knight, already somewhat susceptible to your allure due to the influence of your natural temptative fragrance, felt the pull almost immediately. His eyes softened, and a smile began to form on his lips as you traced your fingers along the contours of his well-defined muscles.

“Hey,” you said sweetly, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of innocent curiosity. You wrapped your arm around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The knight’s hands instinctively moved to your hips, drawing you closer with an eager grip.

Before anything further could transpire, a sudden and forceful intervention disrupted the scene. Strong arms, unmistakably familiar, yanked you away from the knight.

Your back collided with a solid chest, the arms around your waist securing you with a possessive firmness. You felt the heat of Jake’s body through the layers of your clothing, his presence radiating an intensity that eclipsed the previous encounter.

“What did I say about looking at her?” Jake’s voice was a low growl, his tone charged with anger and a hint of possessiveness. His skin was glowing an ominous yellow, a stark indication of the rising fury within him.

The knight, startled and slightly disoriented, stumbled back, muttering an apology before retreating to his tent, the unspoken truth of his desire lingering in his wake.

Jake’s grip on you tightened, he turned you to face him. His body pressing you firmly against him. The closeness was electrifying; your breasts brushed against his chest, and you could feel every rapid beat of his heart. His hand, warm and commanding, traced the line of your jaw with a possessive tenderness.

“What were you trying to do? Seduce him?” Jake’s question was a mixture of frustration and something deeper, as he stared into your eyes with a demanding intensity.

“What else?” You replied with a scoff, looking up at him with a challenging glint in your eyes. Your temptress fragrance, now unleashed and potent, mingled with the tension in the air, creating a heady mix that seemed to amplify the emotional and physical proximity between you two.

Jake’s yellow-tinted skin seemed to burn even brighter as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He pressed a heated kiss to the sensitive spot, his lips grazing against your collarbone. The contact was both possessive and intimate, a stark contrast to the earlier encounter with the knight.

“hmm?” you said, your voice a sultry murmur. “Just because I'm getting killed soon doesn’t mean I don’t feel dull because of not seducing anyone.” You wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, trying to draw him closer, hoping to ignite a reaction.

But the dragon pulled back slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips despite the lingering frustration. “Suffer then,” he said with a scoff, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and defiance. He turned away, heading toward his tent with a deliberate nonchalance, leaving you to wrestle with your own conflicting emotions.

As he walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Worst dragon I’ve ever met.” Your eyes rolled in exasperation, but the underlying tension between you two was unmistakable. The blood forest might have been perilous, but it had also become a crucible for a complicated blend of attraction, frustration, and unresolved desire.

A few days passed of trying to find a way out of the blood forest and you couldn't help but think that this dragon was simply stupid to not be able to find it easily.

Your tempting scent was dangerous for even you, if it wasn't washed quickly even the creatures creeping in the blood forest would've lured in and who knows, might've killed you?

After all from what you knew, dying by the hands of the king was better than dying by the hands of the cruel creatures in the forest.

Today tho the moon cast a silver glow over the tranquil lake, illuminating the water's surface and making it shimmer like a thousand diamonds. The camp of knights was nestled in the nearby forest, their snores barely audible above the gentle rustling of leaves.

They were all sleeping and you made a plan to just wash your scent in the nearby lake.

As you quietly extricated yourself from Jake's possessive embrace, you could feel the heat of his body dissipating, his arms relaxing around your waist. He muttered something incoherent in his sleep, his brow furrowing slightly, but his slumber remained undisturbed.

Standing up, you stretched your arms overhead, arching your back and releasing a contented sigh as you walked out the tent.

The cool night air caressed your bare skin, making you shiver slightly. Your long, curly hair cascaded down your back in dark waves, and your full, perky breasts bounced slightly with the movement.

Turning towards the lake, you walked slowly, the soft grass beneath your feet silent. As you reached the water's edge, you sank to your knees, the cool liquid enveloping your legs up to your thighs. You closed your eyes, letting the soothing warmth of the night wash over you.

With deliberate slowness, you unbuckled the leather belt cinched around your waist, letting it fall to the ground with a quiet thud. Your fingers then traced the laces of your corset, loosening them until the garment gaped open, revealing your naked flesh to the moonlit night.

The night air grew cooler as you removed your corset, and you shivered again. But this time, the chill had little to do with the temperature. Rather, it was a thrill that ran down your spine, knowing that you were alone and vulnerable in the stillness of the night.

You let the corset slide off your shoulders, allowing it to drop to the ground beside your belt. Your breath caught in your throat as you reached up to cup your breasts, the weight of them heavy in your hands. Your thumbs brushed against your peaks, hardening them to taut nubs.

Stepping fully into the lake, you waded out until the water reached your waist. The liquid warmth wrapped around you, caressing your skin like a lover's touch. You leaned your head back, letting your hair fan out behind you, and began to wash your body.

Your hands moved slowly, sensuously, as you cleansed your skin. You ran your fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, before scrubbing the sudsy water over your arms, your shoulders, your breasts.

After all it had been so long for you without a man's touch. So, even if it was your own touch for now, it was bearable than nothing.

As you cleansed your lower abdomen, you paused, your fingers brushing against the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. A surge of warmth pulsed through you, and you bit your lower lip, torn between the desire to continue washing and the urge to touch yourself more intimately.

The decision was made for you when a twig snapped nearby, the sound sharp and unexpected in the quiet night. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you strained your ears to listen. Footsteps echoed through the trees, heavy and deliberate, approaching the lake's edge.

You step out of the water as if to reach out and dress up before any creature sees you as you stand there, your body radiating heat despite the cool night air. Your arms are crossed under your breasts, which are pushed up and together, highlighting their generous size. But then you stepped back in water again after making sure everything was alright.

Your fingers are curled into tight fists at your sides, as if you're struggling to keep from reaching out and touching yourself again. The nails of one hand dig into the skin of your arm, leaving small crescent moon imprints in their wake.

The only sound is your ragged breathing and the soft rustle of your clothes as you shift slightly from foot to foot, trying to ease the ache between your legs without actually touching yourself. You're a vision of frustrated lust, standing alone in the darkness, desperate for relief that you can't give yourself.

Behind you, the lake waters lap gently against the shore, the sound almost mocking in its calmness compared to the turmoil within you. The trees stand tall and still, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, as if they're whispering encouragement for you to give in and touch yourself.

Jake though now awake was taken back to not find you in the tent, he almost thought you were eaten or probably dead because of that scent which you almost always carried to lure people and even some creatures. So he stepped out of the tent and searched for you before he walked towards the lake.

Jake's jaw slackens as he takes in the scene before him. The moonlit lake shore serves as a backdrop to the most intoxicating sight he's ever laid eyes on. The silver light casts long, dancing shadows, illuminating the curve of her back as she bends slightly forward, washing herself off.

Jake's eyes widen as he steps out from behind the trees, taking in the sight of you standing naked by the lake's edge. The cool moonlight bathes your body, highlighting the fullness of your breasts, their peaks tightening in the night air.

You hear the rustle of leaves and turn to see Jake emerge from his hiding place, eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and raw desire. The silver glow of the moon follows him as he approaches you, but it's your enticing scent that has completely captivated him.

Jake's gaze locks onto yours, darkened by an insatiable lust as he closes the distance between you two by walking towards you and pulling you towards him and out of the water. Each step mirrors his increasing heartbeat, his breaths shallow and hot against your skin. He swallows hard and whispers, "I can't resist you any longer."

As Jake reaches you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he walks backwards towards the water's edge, the cool lake breeze rustling the leaves above.

"Has the dragon finally given in?" You asked with a little giggle, relieved that you'd finally receive the touch of a man that you'd been craving. Watching as the dragon undressed out of his armor until he was left naked too.

It was evident he was aroused because of your deadly scent.

"The dragon has... fallen prey," Jake growls against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. The cold water laps around your waists as he pulls you closer, his arousal evident and throbbing against your stomach.

"Mmm, you're so eager..." You mumble. Jake chuckles darkly, his hands roaming over your curves possessively. He lifts you out of the water and carries you to the rocky shore, laying you down on the warm stones.

As he looms over you, his eyes blazing with dragon heat, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wide, the rough stone digging into your back. "I'm going to fuck you so hard on these rocks, you'll be feeling me for hours,"

Jake leans down, even in his human form he keeps his dragon tail wrapping around your arms and pinning them above your head as he buries his face between your breasts. He nuzzles and kisses your tender flesh, his rough scales lightly abrading your skin. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him, eager for more.

"J-Jake...please..." You whimper, your voice hitching as he suctions his mouth over one peak, his tail tightening around your wrists. The pressure is exquisite, bordering on pain, and you squirm beneath him, the rough rocks further heightening the sensation.

"Shh, be still..." Jake growls, his voice muffled against your chest. He switches to the other breast, lavishing equal attention on the neglected peak. You try to writhe underneath him, the need to touch him overwhelming, but his tail holds you fast.

Jake finally releases your wrists, leaving red marks where his tail had held you captive. His amber eyes bore into yours as he reaches between you two, his clawed fingers finding your wetness before plunging deep inside of you without warning. "You're so fucking wet for me..."

"Aaah! Jake!" You cry out, your back arching off the rock as he finger-fucks you ruthlessly, his claws scraping against your inner walls. He adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you, stretching you open in preparation for his massive cock.

"Please... Jake... I... I need..." You babble incoherently, your hands clinging to his broad shoulders as he continues to work you with his hands. His tail slowly coils around your thighs, spreading you wider, lifting your hips off the rocks so he can delve even deeper.

His hand withdraws, and you moan at the loss, only for that sound to be swallowed as he crushes his lips to yours. His tail slides beneath you, tilting your hips up, and you feel the monster bulge of his flesh press against your slick, unready hole.

"Look at me," Jake commands, his voice low and growly. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his intense gaze as he slowly enters you, his thick girth stretching your hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into his arms as the pressure becomes almost unbearable. "You can take it,"

He speaks, and with that, he thrusts forward, burying his entire length inside you in one brutal stroke. You scream into his mouth, your body struggling to accommodate his immense size. Jake breaks the kiss, his head thrown back as he savors the tight, wet heat that envelops his cock.

Time seems to slow down as he begins to thrust into you, each movement eliciting a new wave of pleasure and pain from your abused body. Your mind becomes a fog, lost in the sensation of him inside you, filling you up in ways that should not be possible.

"J-Jake...it's...too...much..." You whimper, tears streaming down your face as he pounds into you mercilessly. His tail tightens around your thighs, lifting you higher so that he can drive even deeper. "Shhh, baby. You can take it."

His tempo increases, his hips jerking forward as he buryes himself to the hilt inside you, his tail coiling and uncoiling with the motion. The sound of wet, slapping flesh and your broken cries fill the air as he takes you on the rocky shore, his passion unbridled.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Jake's knot swells at the entrance of your pussy, stretching you to the limit and locking him inside you. He growls, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you in place, his knot pulsing with his heartbeat. "Mine,"

"Oh, God... Jake... it's... so big..." You gasp, your body tensing as his knot slowly inflates more, stuffing you fuller than you've ever been before. Your fingers claw at his arms, your face buried in his neck as you struggle to breathe through the intense sensation.

"Shh, breathe for me," Jake murmurs, his voice gentle despite the iron grip he has on your hips. His tail strokes your hair soothingly, the contrast between his tender touch and the brutal stretch of his knot making your mind swim. "That's it, just feel me inside you..."

As his knot finishes inflating, Jake starts to slowly thrust into you again, his tail tightening around your thighs to keep you in place. The dual sensation of his movements and the pressure of his knot against your overstimulated entrance sends waves of pleasure through your body, making you shudder and moan.

"J-Jake... it's... it's too... intensive..." You whimper, your arms wrapping around his neck as he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against yours in a steady rhythm. His tail around your thighs tightens further, keeping you spread wide and helpless to his touch.

"Shh, just let it overtake you," Jake purrs into your ear, the soft rumble of his voice sending vibrations through your body and adding to the intense sensations flowing from your core.

As you feel the pleasure cresting inside you, Jake nuzzles your neck, his hot breath and the gentle scrape of his fangs making your eyes roll back as wave after wave of pure ecstasy crashes over you. The room spins around you, your mind hazy with pleasure.

Jake buries his face in your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as he breathes heavily from the effort of holding back his own release. His tail tightens around your thighs, his grip possessive as his hips jerk against yours, his knot pulsing inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jake's knot pulses violently inside you, flooding your insides with rope after rope of thick, hot cum. The sheer volume of his release is staggering, and you can feel it leaking out around his knot, dripping down your thighs as he continues to pump load after load into you.

Jake's breathing is heavy as he nuzzles your neck, the two of you still joined together as he finishes releasing inside you. His knot slowly begins to deflate, but his grip on your thighs remains tight as he savors the feeling of being deep inside you.

With a gentle tug, Jake pulls out of you, his knot slipping free with a soft pop. He turns you around and pushes you forward, guiding you towards the lake. "Look at you," he says, his voice filled with affection as he stares at the mess he made on your thighs.

Jake gently pushes you down onto the lake's edge, the cool water lapping at your thighs. He drops to his knees behind you, his fingers parting your folds to inspect the damage he did. "Such a pretty mess," he murmurs, his thumb swirling through the cum leaking out of you.

Jake's touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his fingers slowly pushing back into your puffy, overheated folds. "You took me so well," he whispers, his other hand smoothing over your backside soothingly. "Such a good girl for me..."

"J-Jake... it's so sensitive..." You hiss as his fingers slowly clean you up, the gentle touch making you squirm. You lean back against him, your eyes fluttering shut as he murmurs praises into your ear. "It..."

"...it feels like my insides are still spread open," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Jake's fingers pause for a moment, his thumb pressing gently against your entrance before continuing to clean you. "I can feel everything so much more... intensely,"

Jake hums in approval, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness as he cleans you. "That's because you're so full of me," he says, his voice low and possessive. "My cum is still inside you, stretching you out and making everything extra sensitive."

Jake lets out a low chuckle as a thought enters his mind, his hand still moving gently over your backside. "What if the temptress had to bear kids of the dragon? Would she still be as seductive and cunning, or would she be too busy tending to her young?"

You blush at his words, your mind filling with images of a pregnant you, heavy with dragon eggs. "W-well... perhaps... she'd be even more alluring. After all, she'd have the power of life itself, growing within her..." You toss back your hair, grinning mischievously.

The dense canopy of the Blood Forest gradually thinned, revealing the first hints of dawn breaking through the treetops. The cold wind rushed past you, but the sensation of freedom was exhilarating as you straddled Jake’s back, his dragon form gliding effortlessly through the sky. The powerful beats of his wings created a rhythmic rush of air, and the forest below blurred into a sea of dark green.

“Slow down,” you whispered breathlessly, fingers clutching tightly at the scales along his neck, your grip as firm as your resolve. Despite the urgency of their escape, your heart pounded with a different kind of anticipation, one that wasn’t purely driven by the thrill of fleeing danger.

Jake glanced back at you, his serpentine eyes gleaming in the early light. “Will you still let me get killed?” you asked, your voice softer now, laced with a hint of vulnerability you rarely let show. A pout formed on your lips as you leaned forward, your breath warm against the back of his neck. You knew the answer, but still, you needed to hear it from him.

“After all that?” Jake rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of everything you had been through together. “Definitely no.” His tone was gruff but honest, a reluctant admission wrapped in the cadence of his powerful wingbeats. He banked gently, tilting his body upward to climb higher, as if trying to escape the last remnants of the forest’s menacing grip.

Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the dragon mark on your neck, a vivid, swirling pattern that seemed to glow faintly against your skin. It was a symbol of possession, one that marked you as his.

The implications of that mark were profound—it tethered your powers to him alone, rendering your once-dangerous allure useless against anyone else. You had lived your entire life seducing and disposing of those who crossed your path, and now, this single mark ensured that the only one you could ever affect was Jake, the dragon.

“It’s both cute and terrifying,” you mused aloud, running your fingers over the mark. It was a constant reminder of your bond, a mystical chain that linked your fates inextricably.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” you accused lightly, though there was no real anger behind your words. More than anything, it was a curious observation—a realization that Jake had found a way to keep you, and in doing so, had also spared you from the king’s wrath.

Jake’s lips curved into a smirk, though in his dragon form it was more of a baring of teeth than anything else. “What if I did?” he challenged, though his voice held a note of playfulness.

He descended slowly, landing gracefully on a large, sturdy branch that jutted out from one of the tallest trees at the forest’s edge. He lowered himself to allow you to climb off before landing himself, shifting back into his human form in a smooth, fluid motion that spoke of practiced ease.

You watched as his knights, who had followed at a distance, emerged from the trees, casting wary glances at the surrounding terrain. There was a collective sigh of relief; the Blood Forest was finally behind them, and the dawn promised a new beginning.

Jake straightened, his posture still commanding even without his scales and wings. He looked at you with a mixture of fondness and the cool detachment of someone who knew they couldn’t afford to get too close.

“See you, then. Don’t get killed,” he said, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. There was an unspoken truth in his words—he couldn’t take you with him, not when the king’s eyes were always watching.

You didn’t hesitate. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of defiance and longing, of everything unsaid and everything understood. For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When you pulled back, you could see the flicker of something like regret in Jake’s eyes, though he quickly masked it with his usual bravado. You offered him a small smile before you turned and disappeared into the trees, your form blending seamlessly into the shadows as if you were a part of the forest itself.

Jake watched you go, a strange emptiness settling in his chest. He knew he couldn’t keep you, couldn’t protect you in the way he wanted, but the mark on your neck was a small comfort—a reassurance that you were his in a way that no one else could ever change.

“Goodbye,” he muttered softly, his voice almost lost to the wind as he turned away, his figure vanishing into the morning light along with his knights. He knew, as surely as he knew the feeling of his own heartbeat, that this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross. The bond between you was too strong, too intricately woven by fate and circumstance to be severed so easily.

And so, with the dawn breaking over the horizon, the dragon and his temptress parted ways, each carrying a piece of the other with them into the unknown.

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latenightdaydreams · 5 months

Note

https://twitter.com/luxus_hella/status/1633399608041951232?t=xXrG757t_EISG_u7jzBu5A&s=19

Can you write about Konig and reader who can squirt a lot like that? And Konig can stay up whole night to fuck her, the bedroom will totally be a massive mess afterwards 😋

That video is wild! I feel like König would go FEARAL watching y/n squirt like that😮‍💨

König x TooWet!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, squirting

1.0k word count

König has started to date recently after retiring from KorTac. He spent hours wasted on dating apps when one day while on a walk he bumped into you. You instantly caught his eye, and your natural flirty nature made him gravitate towards you. You didn’t act afraid of him because of his size, you seemed to enjoy it. A few weeks into dating, you invited him into your home after a goodnight kiss. One thing led to another…

“Oh god yes!”

You moan at the top of your lungs as you lie naked on your bed, your legs spread wide open and König’s naked body lingers over you. His muscles flexed as he quickly moved his two fingers in and out of your little cunt. Just two of his fingers fill you and your orgasm is quickly building.

König leans down and kisses your cheek softly as he focuses on the sounds of your moans increasing. He knows you’re about to cum and he is filled with excitement that he’s gotten you to this point. His lips move down the side of your face to your neck. He plants wet kisses, biting lightly every now and then.

“Cum for me Liebling,” he pants slightly from his arm, pumping in and out so rapidly.

You look at him nodding your head as your eyes roll back and your moans turn into small screams of pleasure. You feel a pressure building up that you’ve never felt before, but you allow yourself to feel it all. And then, you squirt. A lot. König feels you squirt on his chest as he looks down and sees a geyser and he smiles wide. He moves his hand back and forth on your clit disrupting the stream and spraying it around the bed and the both of you.

Once it ends you lay there feeling embarrassed, you’ve never done that before. You look at König to see a wide smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. He looks at the mess he has helped you create and he feels so proud.

“Mein Gott, I didn’t know you could do that.” He leaned down and began to kiss your lips with a new found passion. You’ve triggered something in you and all he can think about is making you do that again.

“I didn’t know I could…” You say meekly.

“That’s- that was your first-time squirting?”

“Yes.”

He can sense the embarrassment in your voice and kisses the tip of your nose before rubbing his wet hand along your soaked thighs.

“I loved it,” his voice low and dripping with desire. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

You blush and cover your face with your hands while giggling. He chuckles as his fingers gently begin to touch your folds, teasing you.

“Let me make you squirt again Liebling.” Slowly his fingers slip into your pussy again.

You let out a pathetic moan and he curls his fingers upwards and fingers you. He leans his face down to your thighs and begins to kiss up and down, licking the liquid still dripping from them. Your hand moves to his head, grasping his light blonde hair. He takes the signal and moves his mouth to your sweet pussy. His fat tongue parting your glistening folds, tasting you.

You look down at him panting, your body becoming consumed by the feeling of ecstasy. His blue eyes looking back up at you, taking in the look of pleasure on your face. You press his face more into your pussy, he loves it and breaths you in while wrapping his lips around your clit. His erect cock leaking on his thigh, eager to fuck you.

“König, please!”

He keeps his fingers moving at the same pace so he doesn’t ruin your orgasm. Your back arches and you try to push his head away but he doesn’t budge, not wanting to stop so you can cum. You begin to squirm before your body tenses and you cum again. König opens his mouth and moves his face back and forth, drinking you in. He laps at your dripping cunt like a thirsty dog, burying his face into you. He thinks he’s falling in love.

His face and your thighs are shiny and dripping wet. The bed sheets and comforter are completely soaked with your squirt. He can not believe he found you. He’s never had a woman squirt before, let alone one to ruin the bed with. He is nowhere near done with you. He wants to know all the ways he can make you squirt.

Once he pulls away, he reaches over to the bedside table and grabs the condom he put in his wallet, anticipating this night with you. You watch him slip the condom down over his cock and get back between your legs. He slaps his cock on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the head.

“Are you ready, Liebling?” His eyes look over your body. You’re stunning. Your body is like a work of art.

“Yeah,” you’re still trying to catch your breath after everything that just happened. Your gentle gaze looking up at him.

His large hands grasp your thighs and gently squeeze your soft flesh. He moves your legs back and apart. Moving his hips, he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes forward slightly. His eyes move from watching him penetrate you to watching your face contort with pleasure.

“Oh god,” you moan out as you feel your small cunt being stretched like never before. “Fuck me.”

The eagerness of you voice sends chills down his spine as he begins to fuck you hard. The fat tip of his dick rubbing back and forth over your g spot, König moving his thumb to gently rub over your clit in small circles. He feels how tight you’re squeezing him and after all of the excitement of watching you squirt; he has to mentally tell himself to not cum yet. He wants to trigger the water works with his thick cock.

König didn’t go home that night. Neither of you really even got any sleep, he lost count on how many times he made you orgasm; giving him the biggest ego. Around 4 am you both end up sleeping on the floor because the bed is just too soaked.

#konig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #konig cod #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod konig #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader smut #konig x female reader #smut

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rboooks · 1 year

Text

Child Support Part 2

Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.

Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.

They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?

Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.

Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)

It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.

"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.

Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.

"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.

Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."

"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."

"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.

Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."

Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.

But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.

If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.

Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.

"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."

The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"

Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."

A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."

Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."

Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?

"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.

Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.

He can't wait to tease Damian later.

"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.

"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.

"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.

"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.

Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.

"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"

Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"

"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.

He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.

"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."

"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"

"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.

"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug

"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."

"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.

Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."

Then the man vanishes in a green portal.

There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."

Tim wants to take a nap.

( Part 1 )

#dcxdp crossover #dc x dp crossover #Child Support #Part 2 #John is trying his best #He's fighting off suitors from his son #Despite being very pretty Danny has a hard time making friends #He's the oldest in Damian's new team #I found the ship Damian/Colin the other day and I love it

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bratzkoo · 10 days

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barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

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