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sourcherryandsprinkles · 3 months ago

Note

can i request cregan stark modern au, with jaces younger or twin sister and maybe they like hide the relationship and its like fluffy and maybe smutty

Request: five times cregan and jace’s sister almost get caught and one time jace does find out about their relationship. I don’t think he would be too mad. He knows cregan is a good guy and would treat you well.

I usually dislike body hair (personal preference) and beards, but Cregan has a short beard in this one (as he does in all of my fics for him) because I said so, and because he’s a Stark. I think it is mandatory and missing for his character — manifesting for a beard in season 3. Also, this is 6.6k words...idk how that happened

p.s. You can find this fic on AO3 under the title Who are we to fight the alchemy

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of a fight and blood, short appearance of Larys Strong (he needs his own warning),

—

When you started college and moved in with Jace, he had warned his teammates that his sister was off limits and that if he caught any of them looking at you, he would not be afraid to throw hands. He may be smaller than a lot of his teammates, but Jace was very protective of you.

They were good guys, brothers to Jace, but he also knew their history with girls. He knew the dirty secrets; the dramas, who they had sex with, where, and details that he wished he could forget about. They were not boyfriend material — at all.

You were not going to lie, Jace’s teammates were hot hockey players. It was tempting to turn your life into a cliché book trope and hook up with one of them, but you refrained from doing so. They were not worth being another name on their list.

Until one of them changed your mind.

It was a Tuesday night. You were in your room, reading on your bed while Jace had friends over playing video games. You could hear them shout at the TV and each other. After a few chapters, you wandered to the kitchen to get a cookie from the cookie jar, but found its content empty.

‘’Jace,’’ you said under your breath.

Living with your brother had a certain strange familiarity to it, a comforting echo of home despite the newness of being on your own. But some things hadn’t changed. Like how Jace never mentioned when he emptied something. Like that one time you wanted to make spaghetti, only to discover he had left an empty pasta box in the cupboard. Or when he used your shower towel because his was in the laundry. These moments made you miss your mom's presence — she’d always been there to keep the peace and enforce some order.

As you stared at the empty jar with frustration, one of Jace’s friends walked in behind you, his eyes immediately landing on the same spot. You could not see who it was, but his tall shadow was towering over you and you could smell a faint woodsy cologne.

‘’If you’re looking for a cookie, Jace ate them all,’’ you said, throwing your brother under the bus.

‘’That was me, actually,’’ admitted a deep voice with a northern accent from behind you. You turned to see Cregan standing there, his expression sheepish. ‘’Jace said to get anything I wanted. Sorry.’’

You forced a smile, the irritation fading as your eyes met his gray ones. ‘’It’s fine. I’ll get something else.’’

Cregan watched as you moved to the freezer above the fridge to get the ice cream out. You opened the lid and saw that it was almost empty, so there was no need to put it in a bowl.

‘’Did you make them?’’ he asked as you reached for a spoon in the cutlery drawer.

‘’I did,’’ you answered with a smile.

‘’They were really good.’’

‘’Thank you. If Jace baked them himself, they would have turned out like hockey pucks: black and hard,’’ you joked.

Cregan offered a light chuckle as he stepped towards the counter, his gray eyes studying the details of your face. He hadn’t really looked at you until now, respecting Jace’s warning, but now he was struggling to look away and go back to the living room.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Two months later, you found yourself making out with the Wolves’ captain in his big jeep. His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of soap and deodorant, having showered twenty minutes ago after practice.

The windows were beginning to fog as you were kissing, your hands all over Cregan's shoulders and chest. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to grip his shirt when it grazed yours. You could drown in his kisses.

Getting frustrated by the gear shift separating you, you attempt to climb over it and fumbled your way to the driver seat onto Cregan’s lap without breaking contact with his lips. You bumped your head and legs along the way, and let out a little curse. Cregan laughed, pulling back his seat as far as it would go so the steering wheel would not press in your back.

From his new angle, you could feel the warmth of Cregan’s body against yours. It wasn’t as effective as cuddling in bed, but Jace would get home soon and Cregan’s small dorm bed was not made for two. He barely fitted himself.

He slipped his large hands under your shirt, his thumbs inching up and up your sides, feeling your soft and warm skin while his mouth locked itself to your jaw. ‘’Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,'' he said as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your collarbone.

You rolled your hips to meet his, the friction causing Cregan’s breath to stutter. His hands were still in your shirt, large and warm, leaving trails of fire over your back. He felt like he was sixteen and in high school all again, not twenty-one and in college.

‘’Gods, you’re going to kill me if your hand keeps going rubbing against me like that.’’

You smirked and tipped your head back to give him more room. ‘’Jace is not the boss of my relationships. I can see whoever I please,’’ you replied, raking your hand through his hair and grazing the side of his short beard.

Cregan scoffed against your neck. ‘’Then what are we doing in my car instead of your bed?’’

He was only teasing, but it still made you sigh. You didn’t think living with Jace would put a wrench in your dating life. He meant well, but gods was it frustrating.

Not waiting for your response, Cregan continued to shower your neck with kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin before his lips soothed it. You didn’t think kisses would make you feel like this, but this man had an effect on your body that you could not explain. You pulled at his hair when he bit at the sensitive flesh there, leaving a small mark you will have to conceal later.

You wished you didn’t have to hide your relationship. You wished you could kiss him whenever you desired, go to his games and wear his jersey and cheer for him loudly when he scored a goal, cuddle with him on the couch without looking at the door every five minutes to check if Jace was coming home.

Cregan pulled back suddenly, looking up at you with his gray eyes. ‘’I should go, Jace is gonna come home soon. Walking from campus to here takes less than thirty minutes,’’ he said in a hushed tone, his breath coming in short puffs.

‘’Just a few minutes more,’’ you bargained, stealing a few kisses from his lips, not yet ready to part. ‘’I have a class at 8pm tomorrow and you leave for your away game Saturday morning. I won’t be seeing you until Sunday or Monday.’’

He let out a sigh, also dreading the moment he’ll leave you, and held you for a moment, his hands gently running up and down your back. You drinked in his scent and warmth, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your head in his neck.

The moment was ruined as you shifted and accidentally hit the horn with your ass, the loud sound echoing in the parking lot.

Startled, you jumped and then burst into laughter, but Cregan didn’t join in. His expression was stone serious as he stared intently at something in the distance. Confused, you followed his gaze and spotted Jace standing by the doors of your apartment building, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He was scanning the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out which car had honked, but with the lights off and the evening darkness, there was no way for him to tell which one it was.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The second time you almost got caught together was before a hockey game. The team the Wolves were playing against was strong and Cregan texted you to come outside the locker room and give him a good luck kiss.

You smiled at the text and sent a quick ‘coming’ to your boyfriend. ‘’I’m gonna get something to drink,’’ you told your friends.

You snaked your way through the students and families waiting in the entrance to get to their seats and quickly made your way down to the locker room. You knew where it was from bringing over Jace’s skates last Saturday at practice. They were essential for getting on the ice, how could he forget them?

Family, friends — and girlfriends — were not allowed in that area of the arena, so you kept an eye out for anyone from staff. You could always play the ‘I was looking for the bathroom’ card, but it would add another lie on top of the others you and Cregan were piling up since the beginning of your relationship.

You found him leaning against the wall, waiting. He was in his compression pants and an old Wolves tee shirt, looking like a complete snack. You could see everything in those tight pants. And the way his hair was tied at the back made him look sexier.

He looked up when he heard someone approach and a soft smile curled on his lips. ‘’There you are,’’ Cregan said, his voice low and gravelly as he stepped to you and pulled you to his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like a missing piece snapping into place.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, his hand cupping your face gently. It was supposed to just be a quick kiss — a quick ‘good luck’ smooch, not anything too serious. But the moment your mouth met his, you both got carried away.

Cregan grabbed you with ease by your thigh, lifting you up, and you winded yours around his neck, almost forgetting that he had a game to play in twenty minutes.

‘’Okay, that’s enough,’’ you decided, breaking the kiss. ‘’You’re gonna be late for pre-game talk.’’

Cregan sighed but gently lowered you back down. Your boots hit the floor, but he didn’t let you go without stealing one last kiss. You smiled into it, then stepped back just as Jace came barreling down the hallway, clearly in a rush.

He came to a stop, frowning when seeing you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His gaze shifted to Cregan, suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘’And why are you talking to my sister?’’

Cregan didn’t miss a beat. ‘’She was looking for you, actually,’’ he lied smoothly. ‘’Baela asked her to tell you she wouldn’t make it to the game tonight. She and Rhaena drove home for the weekend for their dad’s birthday.’’

You made a mental note to thank him later for the quick thinking. Baela had mentioned her trip, and Jace had been sulking and pouting ever since, upset that his girlfriend would miss a big game.

Jace nodded, still catching his breath. ‘’Yeah, I know. She already told me.’’

‘’Oh?’’ you played along effortlessly. ‘’She must have forgotten that she already told you. She has a lot on her mind right now, you know.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Your breathy 'ah's and whimpers were bouncing off the walls as Cregan's strong hands gripped your thighs and held you in place while he lapped at your pussy like a starved man. The intensity of pleasure forced you to grip the headboard. The scruff of his beard was rubbing against your sensitive skin, chafing, but you kind of like it.

It was your first time having the apartment to yourself for more than two hours, and you were going to make the most out of it. Jace was at a bar in the city with some guys from the team. He won't be back until at least 1am...or even later.

When you heard about the night out at the bar, you texted your man and let him know so he could come over after Jace leaves. His teammates were disappointed that he was not joining, but Cregan told them to have fun for him.

He’ll have his own fun with you in the sheets.

The moment he crossed the door, your mouth was on his and you were unbuttoning your shirt, eager to feel his hands on your tits.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mewling at the way he was suckling on your clit. No one ever made you feel this good before. Not that you had a lot of experience to compare with.

His sweet assault on your pussy continued, the sounds you were making making him rock hard. He loved it — pleasing his girl.

''I'm gonna— I'm gonna come soon,'' you whined, feeling your core tighten and rocking you body forward in the same rhythm, fucking yourself on Cregan's tongue.

The hockey player let out a low grunt below you, encouraging you to use him how you wished. He let go of one of your thighs to run the back of his hand up your stomach and grab your breast the way you liked, his calloused thumb and finger capturing your peaked nipple, rubbing it as he flicked your clit again.

Your orgasm hit and you made circular jerks of her hips, pushing down on Cregan’s tongue and chin, drenching both. His name fell from your lips and you continued on like this for a moment, toes curling and legs tensing. Until you had nothing else to give.

He pressed a last kiss to your sensitive clit, then helped you clamber off him. ‘’You remember when I said the cookies you made were really good?’’

You hummed, although confused where he was going with this.

‘’This is better.’’

Your face flamed up at his words, not expecting such a vulgar thing to come out. ‘’Shut up.’’ You smacked his chest, his laugh rumbling under your palm.

The sheepishness he sported in the kitchen that day had disappeared, revealing a dirty sense of humor you never expected from him.

You thought you would get a breather, a moment to catch your breath between your last orgasm and the next, but Cregan — insatiable — had other plans. He rolled onto his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began kissing your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. His lips trailed all over your chest, down to your breasts, and then to your stomach, each touch igniting your desires all over again. You arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his caresses melting away any resistance.

Under his tall and broad stature, Cregan Stark was a teddy bear. A Costco sized teddy bear. On the ice, he was known for his strength and leadership, but off it, he was all heart. He was kind, caring, and protective. His caresses were gentle, and his kisses tender and loving. It was impossible to not feel his love.

Speaking of feeling his love, you felt his hardness twitching and poking at your thigh through his tight boxers. You reached down to slip your hand inside, jerking him slowly. In response, Cregan squeezed your hip and let out a low groan.

‘’I need you,’’ you gasped, feeling him suck at the skin under your left breast.

It was one of your rules: no leaving visible marks that could raise suspicions.

He gave one last swipe of his tongue over your nipple and peeled off his boxers, his delicious cock springing up immediately. Your pussy was weeping at the sight.

You spread your legs to accommodate him, offering yourself to him. He teased at your entrance, his movements deliberate as he bumped against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that made you whine. His amused chuckle filled the room, clearly tempted to draw out your anticipation even more, but as you shot him a warning glare, silently urging him to stop teasing.

Cregan shushed you, rubbing your thigh, and just as he was about to breach your walls, you heard the door of the apartment open and Jace’s voice echoing.

You froze, eyes widening in panic, and Cregan cursed under his breath, realizing that Jace was back much earlier than expected. ‘’Shit. That’s Jace.’’

He called your name again and you quickly slipped on a shirt and got out of bed, answering your brother's calls of your name. You couldn't risk him coming into your bedroom and catching his best friend in your bed in his birthday suit…with with a raging hard-on and your juices all over his beard.

‘’You’re home early,’’ you pointed out, coming down the hallway.

You studied him as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, trying to guess his state of inebriety. He seemed barely tipsy.

‘’Drama at the bar. Ben got into a fight with some guy over a girl — which he did not know was someone's girlfriend — and we all got kicked out,’’ Jace explained, rummaging through the bag of chips and taking a handful to pop into his mouth before leaning against the counter.

You shook your head with a sigh. ‘’Typical Ben. He really needs to stop going after girls that are taken. Has he not learned his lesson?''

Your brother laughed, taking more chips. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the large shirt you were wearing, then back up at you.

You followed his gaze and saw that you had grabbed Cregan’s tee shirt instead of your sleep shirt…

‘’Dad’s,’’ you blurted out quickly.

Jace frowned, not remembering your dad ever wearing that shirt, but let it go. ‘’What were you up to? I thought you would invite the girls over.''

‘’Eh, no. I...I was having fun by myself,'' you stammered, clenching your thighs and hoping your face was not too flushed.

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn’t true either. You were having fun, just not by yourself.

His face twisted in disgust. ‘’Ew, that’s gross! I did not need to know about that.''

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Unlike Ben, Cregan wasn’t the type to get into fights — especially on the ice. He thought it was stupid and pointless, a quick way to end up injured or benched for a few games. As the father figure of the team, he was usually the one stepping in to break up the scuffles, keeping cooler heads prevailing. But sometimes, no matter how careful you are, you get caught in the crossfire and take a punch that wasn’t meant for you.

You shot up from your seat immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach as Jason Lannister’s gloveless fist accidently connected to Cregan’s face. It was aimed at Ben — unsurprisingly —, who had played a foul, unnoticed by the referee, and got his brother Tyland in the penalty box.

Chaos erupted on the ice. The referees were shouting and blowing their whistle, trying to break up the fight. Seeing Ben implicated, Cregan had rushed over, taking it on himself to pull him back, but that's when Jason punched him.

More players skated over, helping the referees. One grabbed Jason, and another went for Ben. He was lean but feisty, a scrappy fighter who never backed down. He shot a taunting grin at his opponent and spat blood on the ice, right at his feet. Jason tried to free himself, but the closest referee put his hand on his chest, shaking his head. Enough.

Cregan turned to Ben and wiped the blood off his nose, glaring at darkly.

You didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon. You were coming back from the laundry room, arms full with a basket of freshly cleaned clothes, and forgot how to breathe when you saw Cregan sitting on the couch across from Jace. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie, and his pretty face was decorated with a bruise close to his nose.

Your feet froze, unable to take another step. You wanted to fucking punch Jason Lannister.

‘’Hey, you’re back,’’ Jace noticed, turning his head towards you.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. ‘’Yeah. I was doing laundry,’’ you explained, lifting the basket slightly as if to prove your point.

‘’Can you do mine next time? I’ll pay you ten dollars,’’ Jace offered with a grin.

You scoffed, shaking your head. What did he take you for, a housemaid? ‘’Ten dollars to wash your dirty underwear and smelly socks? Never.’’

‘’Fifteen,’’ he countered, still hopeful. ‘’My clothes smell better when you do it. It’s like when Mom used to do it.’’

‘’That’s because I use fabric softener,’’ you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jace frowned, clearly puzzled. ‘’What’s that?’’

Before you could explain it to him, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused the game and checked his screen. ‘’Food is here. I’ll go get it,’’ he said to Cregan.

The taller one nodded, waiting for Jace to be out the door to glance at you. Without saying anything, you set the basket of clothes down on the beanbag chair that had seen better days and went straight to Cregan, cupping his face gently. His eyes softened at your touch, seeing your look of concern. He reached up with one hand to lightly hold onto your wrist as you examined the bruise on his face.

Cregan gave you a soft smile. He could see that you were worried about him. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he said, yet you couldn’t help but notice a hint of stiffness in his expression. ‘’I’m fine. I promise.’’ He kissed the inside of your hand.

‘’I’ll fetch you some ice.’’

He tried to protest, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but you were resolute. You hadn't been able to take care of him after the game, so you’ll do it now.

You put some ice cubes that you used for your iced coffees in a plastic bag and brought it to the living room, gently pressing it to the bruise. ‘’Here.’’

Cregan winced at the cold, his face sensitive. ‘’Thanks, love.’’ He reached out and put a hand on your hip, tugging you closer, but retracted it as the door opened and Jace returned with the food.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

During the course of your relationship, you found yourself in a lot of risky situations, but letting Cregan sleep over was playing with fire.

You didn't mean to. It was an accident.

The two of you were watching a movie in your bed while Jace was on a date with Baela, and he fell asleep forty minutes in. You should have woken him when your phone showed close to 11pm, but you didn't have the heart to. You locked your door, turned off your laptop and cuddled against him.

When you woke up to pee at 1am, you saw that your brother was back and was asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, the TV playing some older kids cartoons and his leg off the couch. Jace was a light sleeper, it would be too risky to sneak Cregan out.

Morning came and you woke up alone. A sad pout graced your lips. It was your first time spending the night together and you didn’t even get to have morning cuddles or hear his sleepy voice.

You grabbed your phone, checking if he left any messages, but there was nothing. Just a text from your mom asking if you were coming home for your dad’s birthday this coming weekend. You rolled over, breathing in the sheets where Cregan slept in last night, and left her on read and got up.

Your morning coffee was calling your name.

Running a hand through your hair, you walked down the hallway, looking forward to that first sip of coffee, and grinned when you found Cregan in the small kitchen, standing in his tight boxers and a tee shirt and drinking black coffee from a Disney mug. It looked Polly Pocket sized in his hands.

You wrapped your arms around him from the back, your body flush against his. You pressed your face into his back, and the warmth of your body against his made his shoulders relax.

He smiled to himself, covering your hands with his free one. ‘’Good morning,’’ he said in a groggy voice.

‘’I thought you had left. What of Jace? If my brother sees you in your underwear in his kitchen he’s gonna flip.’’

Cregan set his coffee down and turned, his gaze soft as his eyes met yours. The bruise on his face had significantly faded, barely there. ‘’He’s not here. I heard him leave.’’

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, and you let yourself relax against him. The warmth of his body seeped through his tee shirt, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Cregan's hand slowly traced down your back, his fingers rubbing gentle circles at the base of your spine.

‘’Don’t you have classes?’’ you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He hummed softly. ‘’Not until later. My 10am class got canceled. I thought I’d hit the gym instead...but there’s no rush.’’

‘’I’ve gotta leave in one hour,’’ you sighed, wishing you could linger in this moment longer.

Cregan’s grip tightened slightly, as if to keep you close for as long as he could. ‘’I can drop you off,’’ he offered. ‘’That way we’ll have more time together.’’

You nodded, pressing a kiss over Cregan’s sternum in thanks. ‘’I’ll make us breakfast...in five minutes.’’

To ruin the moment, you heard the loud buzz and a voice coming from the intercom.

‘’Are you up? Please be awake. I tried texting you and calling but you didn’t respond so I’m taking a chance here.’’ Jace called your name again, louder.

You groaned in annoyance and went to the door to press the intercom button. ‘’What do you want?’’

‘’Yes! You’re awake! Eh, I left my laptop on the counter, and I also forgot my keys...’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

When Jace left for college, your parents didn’t see the use of getting a car when everything was close to campus and within walking distance. What they didn’t think through would be the possibility of the bus riding home being full and not being able to make it for your dad’s birthday.

Jace: Pack your bag. We’re leaving at 4pm. I already told Mom

You: You found us bus tickets?

Jace: No. I found a ✨chauffeur✨

You: Please tell me it’s not some random person you found on a co-driving forum. I don’t want to spend two hours in some creep’s car 💀

Jace: He’s not

You should have known it would be him.

Jace called shotgun, forcing you to take the backseat. You didn’t mind. In fact, you preferred it. If you had sat at the front, you were scared your hand would have slipped and revealed your relationship. Or that Jace would have noticed the familiarity between you. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little sister, not someone he knew like the palm of his hand.

Although it was only two hours, the drive felt never-ending. Your back ached from sitting in class all day and your stomach was impatient to be filled with your mother’s cooking. Every now and then, Cregan would sneak glances at you through the rearview mirror, and each time you couldn’t hide your smile. Your brother didn’t see, too busy on his phone or switching the music.

This weekend was looking to be long and difficult.

Your mom was more than happy to have another guest over. Cregan was as polite and charming, easily winning her heart when he complimented her infamous lasagna and asked for a second serving.

''Of course! Help yourself,'' Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She glanced between Cregan and Jace, who both emptied their plates quickly. ''It's like they don't feed you at college.''

''I live in a dorm,'' Cregan explained in defense. ''It's hard to cook when the only appliances allowed are a mini fridge and a coffee pot.''

Your mother turned to Jace with raised eyebrows, clearly waiting for his excuse. ''And you? What do you have to say for yourself?''

Jace grinned sheepishly, swallowing his last bite. ''Can I take the leftover back to college?''

At the head of the table, your father let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.

When you were seven, you used to sneak out of your bedroom at night to eat a bowl of cereal. It took your parents several months to figure it out. At eighteen, you were sneaking to join your boyfriend in the guest room.

You waited for everyone to be fast asleep, and avoided the creaking floorboards in the hallway. It was dark inside as you closed and locked the door behind, but you made it to the bed without stubbing your toe on any furniture.

Cregan stirred when you pulled the covers and slipped in, feeling your cold feet on his calves. ''What are you doing?'' he asked, half-asleep and eyes still closed. He didn't need to see you to know it was you. He simply knew.

You said nothing and cuddled against him, sighing happily when he reciprocated.

Morning came faster, the early rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You cursed at yourself, having once again slept longer than planned. You checked both sides of the hallway, and once you deemed it safe, you exited. What you didn’t see was Luke leaving the bathroom, his hair unruly and barely awake.

‘’I…’’ you stammered, not knowing what to say.

He was fifteen, you could not trick him like Joffrey. He knew what you were doing in the guest bedroom.

So you bolted to your own, praying he would keep his tongue.

‘’Luke knows,’’ you blurted out as you descended the stairs for breakfast, the weight of the confession lingering in the air.

Downstairs, your mother had gone all out, setting up a massive brunch spread — eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and even pancakes. Grandfather Lyonel would be coming over...along with your uncle Larys. The thought of him made your stomach twist; you had never been at ease in his presence, but he was your father’s half-brother, and that meant you had to force a smile and be nice.

Cregan furrowed his brows, concern creeping across his face. ''How?''

You quickly recounted the incident, watching as Cregan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression growing tense. ‘’You think he’s gonna tell Jace?'' he asked, his voice dropping. ''Or worse...your dad? We got along well last night, but when he’ll find out—’’

‘’My dad is not the one we need to worry about,'' you interrupted softly, trying to ease his anxiety. ''Sure, he’s protective of us, and he might look like the kind of guy who could knock someone out with one punch, but he’d never do that to someone I care about. Not unless he had a damn good reason.''

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Joffrey got down from his chair and dashed over to you, his small face lighting up with excitement. ‘’Mommy made pancakes!’’ he announced, his big brown eyes practically glowing. ‘’There’s blueberry ones, your favorites.’’ He grabbed both your hand and Cregan's, tugging insistently, messing up your plan to arrive separately.

At the table, Luke was talking — bragging — to grandfather Lyonel about school while Jace was helping your mom bring all the food to the table. And of course, Uncle Larys was just sitting there, observing everything with his usual quiet, unsettling presence.

At Joffrey’s urging, Cregan took a seat next to him. The little one had taken a strong liking to the hockey player, and you couldn’t help but hope that this budding friendship might work in your favor when it would all blow up.

‘’Careful, it's hot!'' Rhaenyra called out, entering with a plate full of bacon. ''Jace, can you bring the orange juice? Oh, and a small fork for Joffrey?''

You interrupted Luke and made your way to Grandfather Lyonel, wrapping him in a warm hug like you always did. ‘’Where’s Dad?’’ you asked, noticing his absence.

The burly man looked around for his son, not knowing either.

‘’I'm here, I'm here,'' Harwin’s familiar voice rang out from the sliding door as he entered, carrying a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. On top of his head was a handmade birthday crown, obviously crafted by Joffrey. ‘’Your mother forgot the strawberries. I had to fetch some from the garden.''

You grinned, stepping up to greet him. ‘’Happy birthday, Dad,’’ you said, kissing his cheek as you wrapped him in a hug.

Everyone sat around the table, and began filling their plates with food.

You mostly took blueberry pancakes, and some fruits from the garden. You had a sweet tooth this morning. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Joffrey talking a mile a minute between bites of pancakes and bacon. Cregan was trying his best to listen to your little brother — what he could make out of his words, anyway — but his attention was completely focused on you.

Two seats down from you, Luke was watching. You could feel his gaze on Cregan, and there was an unsettling tension beneath the surface. He knew something. He could let it slip at any moment and throw the whole breakfast into chaos. But, for now, he stayed silent.

‘’So,’’ Grandfather Lyonel began casually as he sipped his coffee, ‘’how's your first year of college treating you? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?''

The word 'boyfriend' had your bite of pancakes catching in your throat. Grabbing your coffee, you took a long gulp to wash it down, buying yourself a moment.

You shook your head, managing a calm smile. ‘’Not really. I’m keeping my focus on my academics,’’ you replied, briefly raising your eyes at Cregan, who was focussing on eating the content in his plate. The last time he had a home-made breakfast was with you.

You thought you were being discreet, but your grandfather noticed the short glance, as did your father who was right next to you.

Joffrey, oblivious to the tension, piped up, ‘’Jace has a girlfriend. Her name is Bella.’’

‘’Baela,’’ Jace corrected with a fond smile, shaking his head at the enthusiastic six-year-old.

Grandfather Lyonel smiled, happy for his grandson. ‘’That’s a lovely name.’’ He then turned to Cregan. ‘’And you, Cregan? Got a girlfriend? A handsome, well-mannered lad like you cannot be single.’’

Before he could answer, Joffrey piped up with the bluntness only a child could muster. ‘’I think you should date my sister,’’ he declared.

Jace’s head shot up, eyes wide.

Before him, Cregan chuckled uncomfortably, clutching his fork. ‘’Why is that, little one?’’

‘’Because you look at her like papa looks at mommy.’’ He said it so pure and innocently, yet it was true.

The silence that followed was so loud it didn’t take long for Jace to connect the dots. The truth hung in the air, undeniable and clear. Cregan shifted awkwardly in his seat, and you felt your heart pound in your chest.

Jace glanced between you and the one he called his best friend. His nostrils were flared, shock and outrage painted across his face. ‘’How long has this been going on?’’ His brown eyes glared daggers at Cregan, waiting for an answer. ‘’How long have you been keeping this from me?’’

‘’Jace,’’ your father’s voice cut through the tension, firm but gentle, an attempt to stop the situation from spiraling any further.

But Jace wasn’t listening, angry at his friend’s betrayal. ‘’How can you betray me like that? I would have expected it from Robb or Theon, not from you. You pride yourself to be loyal and honorable, but where is your loyalty in this? Where is the honor in disregarding my one and only rule?’’

He was allowed to be upset that you and Cregan spent the last two months seeing each other behind his back. It’s a reaction that was expected. But you hated that he was painting his best friend as the villain. Cregan never used you, it was never his intention. He knew what he was risking when he kissed you back that rainy afternoon in his car. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his feelings — and neither could you.

‘’How can you make this all about you?’’ you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘’Can’t you see past your own selfish feelings that maybe Cregan does love me for me and not just to piss you off? This is exactly why we didn’t tell you anything.’’ You gestured around the room.

Cregan, who had remained silent until now, took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm. ‘’You know I don’t play around with girls. I would never use your sister the way you think I am. Come on, Jace. You know me.’’ There was a pause, allowing Jace to absorb his words, then he continued. ‘’I’m truly sorry for keeping this from you, but can you blame me? Put yourself in our shoes. You think I wanted to sneak around and lie to everyone about the girl I love? It might look cool in movies, but it’s not in real life. It’s just stress and pain.’’

The room was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. No one dared speaking around the table. It was only silent glances.

What a way to ruin your father’s birthday…

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting outside, your heart heavy. The house had grown quiet after the earlier commotion, the celebratory mood from the family gathering long gone. Grandfather Lyonel and uncle Larys had left. The former had apologized for starting the conflict, but you told him it was not his fault. It was bound to happen anyway.

You apologized to your father — and mother — for ruining his birthday. It was his turn to shake his head and pull you in his arms.

The air had gotten colder as it neared sundown, but you didn’t want to go inside. You liked the soft stillness of the open air. It was a calming contrast to the fight from this morning.

The drive back to college was going to be tense tomorrow. You already dreaded it.

Unbeknownst to you, Jace was watching you through the glass of the sliding doors. He stood there for a moment, observing you and Cregan sitting quietly together on the patio furniture. Your head was leaned on his shoulder, curled up at his side, and his left arm wrapped around you. He recognized the Wolves hoodie on your back, Cregan’s number and name on it.

It wasn't until he saw Cregan kiss the top of your head and the soft smile that instantly bloomed on your face that Jace realized that maybe Cregan was good for you.

—

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inazumass · 6 months ago

Text

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins.

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface.

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days.

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought.

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

“I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster.

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again.

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile.

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw.

“You look like you have something else to say.”

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next. "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain.

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…” Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again.

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep.

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.”

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long.

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts.

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept.

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you.

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up.

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even.

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep.

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you?

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace.

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing.

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body.

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily.

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there.

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name.

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt.

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories.

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse.

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook.

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer.

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust.

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist?

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips.

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length.

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough.

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up.

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took.

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him.

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two.

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you.

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren��s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there.

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you.

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts.

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth.

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort.

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs.

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely.

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap.

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine.

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more .

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life.

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently.

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you.

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt.

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands.

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.”

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear.

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.”

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight?

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming.

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you.

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair.

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months ago

Text

Till We Meet Again (m) | jjk

When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

→ Pairing: jungkook x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: childhood friends to lovers → Genres: romcom, smut, nostalgia, and so much fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Jungkook’s first time (he is not a virgin lol, but it’s his first time with a human, so), this one is actually pretty mild, bordering on vanilla. There’s talk about how merfolk do it 👀 This is just crack fantasy okay, please don’t take it seriously! There’s some small pov changes in here, because, well, it just happened, lol. → Warnings (explicit): protected sex, oral (both male and female), hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, a little bit of dirty talk, begging, pleasing. → Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld → Read on AO3! → Author’s note: happy birthday to my sweet and lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7) 🥳 I wrote this story for you as a present. I know you’re not that much into fantasy, but when I told you about my mermaid ideas, you were excited 🤭 So this first one is for you bby ✨ I really hope you like it, also that everyone else does!

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The rain begins to pour as Jungkook grips your hand, his touch both delicate and powerful, guiding you through the sudden downpour. Moments ago, you were laughing and playing at the local playground, unaware that Mother Nature was about to drench the world in her unexpected shower.

Your heart pounds in your chest and echoes in your ears as you race to keep up with Jungkook, a wide smile spreading across your face. For an eight-year-old, he’s pretty damn fast, making every step feel like a thrilling challenge.

He’s sprinting down familiar streets, and you quickly realize he’s heading towards your home. You’ve never seen his house or met his parents, but your own parents adore Jungkook, joking that he’s your future husband. You’re not thinking that far ahead—you’re just a child, after all. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a fondness for him.

Let’s be honest, you have the biggest crush on the sweet boy with the round face and big doe eyes that seem too large for his tiny head. His nose is adorable, and his teeth only add to his charm. In short, you love everything about him, even his occasional unreasonable moments. But when he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip in that irresistibly cute way, your heart completely melts.

Your house comes into view, but instead of heading inside, he veers into your backyard, leading you towards the hidden playhouse nestled among the bushes and small trees.

“Shouldn’t we get inside where it’s dry?” you ask, bewilderment etched across your face as you finally reach the playhouse. He crouches down and gently pulls you inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, we’ll be safe here,” he assures you, sitting down with his legs tucked under him. He bites his lip softly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“We should go inside; I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” you mumble, settling beside him and feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Despite not feeling chilled yet, you know it’s risky to stay out in wet clothes. It’s autumn, and although the air still holds a lingering warmth, you’re aware that it won’t last long.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, okay?” he pleads, his eyes wide and his signature pout in full effect. You find yourself unable to resist—after all, who could say no to that adorable face?

For a few minutes, you sit there side by side, listening to the sky weep as rain patters softly on the roof of the playhouse. A few droplets sneak inside, but it hardly matters.

Jungkook suddenly turns to you, his expression unreadable— sadness flickers across his features, his normally warm brown eyes darkening to near-black in the dim light. His smile vanishes, replaced by a somberness that seems to weigh heavily on him. You can’t help but wonder what has shifted, why he’s undergone this sudden transformation in demeanor.

“___. Promise me you’ll never forget me?”

His eyes widen with earnestness, pleading like a puppy’s, and both of his hands seek yours, holding on as if afraid of being forgotten.

Emotions swirl in those hazel eyes, a tumultuous sea of feelings you struggle to decipher. You long to grasp his thoughts, to understand why he’s broaching the topic of forgetting him. But the idea is unfathomable to you; forgetting him seems as impossible as forgetting your own name.

Something shimmers in his eyes—what, you can’t quite discern. They resemble an ocean, deep and mysterious, where one could easily lose themselves if they stared for too long.

“Forget you? Kookie, what on earth are you talking about?” your eyes widen in disbelief, searching his face for any hint of understanding, but finding only confusion.

“It’s just... I like you a lot, and,” he murmurs, stumbling over his words, his hands fidgeting nervously with yours. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he adds with a touch of vulnerability, “I’ll never forget you. You mean the world to me, ___. You’re my friend.”

With a warm smile and a gentle chuckle, you reply, “Duh, silly. Of course you’ll never forget me! And I’ll never forget you either. Now, can we please go inside?”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it usually does, leaving a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. It feels like a storm is brewing within you, mirroring the turbulent weather outside.

“Just promise me. We’ll never forget each other, no matter what,” he implores, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes reflecting the solemnity of his words.

He clasps your hand with his own, seeking out your pinky finger.

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes earnest, holding onto your gaze with a mix of hope and determination.

Your eyes flicker with a rapid dance of confusion and amusement. Despite the chaos of the moment, a smile spreads across your face, its warmth seeming to dissolve his frown and alleviate his frazzled state.

“Okay. Pinky promise,” you affirm, intertwining your pinky finger with his, sealing the pact with a vow that feels as timeless as eternity.

You never laid eyes on Jungkook after that—well, you did both retreat indoors, your mother showering Jungkook with love and sweet treats he adored. But after that day, twenty long years ago, he vanished from your life out of the blue, leaving only memories behind.

Why you’re thinking about him now, you really don’t know. Yet, just as he once asked of you, you’ve never let go of his memory—a part of you still holds onto the hope that he might reappear, surprising you around some unsuspecting corner, as if he never left. But with each passing day, the likelihood of such serendipity grows fainter, like the receding tide of the deep blue ocean.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia stirred by your recent home purchase by the sea that brings back memories of your childhood crush. The vast expanse of the ocean triggers thoughts of his eyes—not because of their color, but the way they used to glimmer, reflecting the light with a sparkle that danced like sunbeams on water.

Long strolls on the beach prove therapeutic, gradually pushing thoughts of your childhood crush to the recesses of your mind. With each step along the sandy shores, you uncover treasures—seashells, smoothed by the relentless embrace of the waves, and other mementos of seaside serenity.

You truly love the beach, which is why you chose to buy a house so close to the shore. It’s not just because the ocean reminds you of a certain childhood friend you wish you could see again. His sudden departure has always baffled you—sometimes you wonder what really happened.

Was he kidnapped, or did he simply leave without a word?

Why would he vanish without telling you first, especially if he just had to move?

It’s after dinner, and you find yourself lounging on your terrace, gazing out at the ocean. The view is breathtaking, and when the wind blows just right, the salty breeze gently caresses your skin. You smile a wistful smile as you raise your glass to your lips. Today is a red wine day; despite the heat, the perfectly chilled glass complements the warmth of the evening air.

With your legs propped up on the lounge chair, reclined for maximum comfort, you gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea. You can’t help but wonder about the treasures and secrets it holds, a mysterious world teeming with countless species you’ve never even heard of that call it home.

Mankind has long tried to conquer the world beneath the waters, yet the pitch-black depths of the ocean remain largely unexplored, beyond the reach of even the best diving gear. Though you’re no diver, the allure of the sea’s hidden secrets captivates you, and you dream of one day uncovering its mysteries.

A sweet, velvety sound caresses your ears, prompting you to sit up and listen more closely. The enchanting melody wraps around you, and you realize it’s a voice—someone is singing.

God, it sounds beautiful—captivating, sweet, and strong, yet tinged with sorrow. The melody weaves its way into your soul, leaving you spellbound.

For a moment, you wonder if it’s all in your head—a fleeting hallucination brought on by too much wine. But a glance at your glass and the nearly full bottle beside you confirms you’ve barely finished your first glass.

The voice is real, and it carries an eerily familiar tone. Intrigued, you rise from your comfortable lounge chair and make your way down to the sandy beach that has been your backyard for the past few days.

Your bare feet sink into the warm, fine sand, its texture caressing your skin. You glance around, searching for the source of the beautiful voice, but the beach remains empty, with no one in sight.

There it is again—the singing, so achingly beautiful that it sends shivers down your spine and raises the hair on your arms. Your feet carry you along the shoreline, but despite your efforts, you can’t pinpoint the source of the enchanting voice.

Then, just as you’ve been pacing up and down the shoreline, the voice abruptly vanishes—quiet as a still puddle after a rain shower. With a strange unease settling in your gut, you reluctantly turn back toward home. The voice felt hauntingly familiar, yet somehow elusive—like a distant memory struggling to resurface.

For the past few days, the hauntingly beautiful voice has serenaded you night after night, drawing you out to the beach in search of its mysterious owner. Despite your efforts, luck eludes you, and each failed attempt leaves you with a sense of frustration, reminiscent of the pout Jungkook used to give you whenever you were being unreasonable with him.

Your frustration mounts as the elusive voice continues to evade you, its hauntingly familiar tone persistently tugging at the corners of your mind.

Frustration coursing through your veins, you slip into your bikini, determined to quell the restlessness with a night swim in your aquatic backyard.

As the sand caresses your feet, you stroll down to the shoreline under the watchful gaze of the moon, its ethereal glow casting a mesmerizing sheen upon the water. The scene is nothing short of magical, and as the lukewarm water embraces your skin, a delightful chill courses through your body—not from the cold, but from the familiar embrace of your second home. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart, and in this moment, it feels like a sanctuary away from the world.

Surrendering to the embrace of the water, you allow its gentle currents to envelop you, cradling you in its soft embrace as you yield to its rhythmic sway. With only your head above the surface, you venture further into the depths, relishing the sensation of weightlessness and freedom that comes with each stroke.

A soft, melodic sound tickles your ear—it’s that captivating voice again! This time, it resonates clearer, as if drawing you in closer. Driven by curiosity, you swim towards the source of the sound, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you approach a cluster of rocks and a looming cliffside, you spy a cave nestled within its embrace, beckoning you with its mysterious allure.

The cave envelops you in darkness, yet the gentle glow of the full moon dances upon the water, casting an ethereal light that transforms the rocky surface of the cliff into glistening crystals. The voice reverberates off the walls, its echoes amplifying its haunting melody. Drawing closer, you discern a figure resting their head upon a rock, their silhouette illuminated by the moon’s gentle caress.

Intrigued, you inch closer, your curiosity piqued. As you approach, you discern the figure of a man, likely around your age, or perhaps a bit younger, reclining against the stone, his body partially obscured by its shadowy embrace.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice echoing softly in the cave. Instantly, a pair of dark brown eyes fixate on yours, their intensity sending a shiver of recognition down your spine.

As you hear something splashing nearby, you swiftly swim to the corner of the cave. Pulling yourself up onto the rocky surface, you cast an inquisitive gaze at the stranger, who remains silent, their expression enigmatic.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, met with silence as the man attempts to retreat, concealing more of his body beneath the murky depths, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath the surface.

You approach cautiously, taking slow, measured steps, careful not to startle the man. His features are striking—sharp, chiseled jawline, eyes wide and intense, lips full yet thin, and a cute nose that triggers a flood of memories from long ago, memories that have never faded.

“Jungkook?” you gasp, the name escaping your lips like a sudden gust of wind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you—happiness and hurt colliding like waves crashing against the shore, overwhelming you in their tumultuous embrace.

The man cautiously peers over the rock, his bare torso partially shielded from view. The sight of him shirtless prompts a flurry of questions in your mind—why is he here, and why is he without a shirt?

Is that a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm?

You can’t help but notice the strength in his neck, the prominent veins tracing a path down to his defined clavicle and broad shoulders. Damn it you really shouldn’t, but you find yourself shamelessly admiring his physique, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

“___?” His voice breaks the silence, light and airy, reminiscent of a summer breeze whispering through the leaves.

“Is it really you?” you inquire, lowering yourself to sit in front of him, your gaze sweeping over his features once more. His face holds a striking resemblance to someone from your past, now matured with the passage of time. Yet, those deep, familiar ocean eyes leave no doubt—it’s unmistakably Jungkook.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirms, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boyish charm of his smile clashes with the maturity reflected in his sharp features, creating a captivating contrast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in your voice. The sight of him in this cave, serenading the darkness with his song, leaves you utterly bewildered.

“Just taking a breather,” he chuckles, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your form, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

“Hold on a second,” you exclaim, frustration tinged with urgency in your voice as you scratch your head in bewilderment. “What brings you here? You vanished without a trace. What happened?”

Another splash in the water draws your attention, and you track the sound to behind Jungkook—then, you spot it: the tail. It’s a mesmerizing shade of purple, with delicate variations of violet shimmering in the moonlit cave. The translucent fins catch the light as they sway gracefully. The scales, rough and scaly, add to the otherworldly beauty of him.

Your jaw nearly hits the rocky surface—if it could, it surely would. You gaze, utterly transfixed, at the figure before you—your childhood friend, now revealed as a mermaid. No, a merman. The revelation leaves you reeling. How is this possible? You’ve heard of undiscovered species lurking beneath the waters, but this is your friend, someone you’ve known for years with two perfectly functional feet and no hint of a scaly tail.

“___,” he begins, his voice filled with warmth and genuine curiosity. “It’s been such a long time. How have you been?” His eyes radiate happiness, but you’re still reeling from the revelation before you. Seeing him again—something you’ve dreamt about for years—leaves you speechless.

“No,” you assert firmly, a rush of urgency in your tone. “You don’t get to ask questions yet. There are so many things I need answers to from you first.” Determined, you attempt to peer over the rock he’s perched on, desperate for a closer look at the astonishing sight before you—your childhood friend now bearing a tail, a reality that defies all logic.

“Alright, fire away,” he responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “But give me a moment to settle in.” With a graceful movement, he hoists himself out of the water, his biceps flexing as he perches on the rock, his tail lazily swaying in the water. Bathed in the soft glow of the cave, his majestic purple tail shimmers, leaving you in awe of his breathtaking beauty.

He seems big and broad shouldered, the tattoos look intricate, reflecting ancient scribbles and drawings on his arm.

You plop down on the rugged surface, your mind reeling with disbelief—it all feels like a surreal dream. Unable to resist, you extend your hand to touch him, as if to confirm his reality. Your index finger tentatively prods his cheek before trailing down to his chest. The moment your touch meets his pecs, you’re met with a jolt of realization—his muscles are firm, real, and undeniably tangible beneath your fingertips, sending a surge of heat through your veins as you inadvertently find yourself groping his impeccable chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes darting from your hand on his chest back to your face. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with a deep crimson as the realization of your actions hits you. You’ve been feeling the solid warmth of his chest, lost in the surreal moment.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, yanking your hand back as if it’s been scorched. “I didn’t mean to touch you like that!” Embarrassment floods through you, your heart racing as you pull away from the unexpected intimacy.

Damn it, get a grip, you chastise yourself silently. “I just wanted to make sure this is real,” you confess aloud, your voice trembling slightly with lingering disbelief.

You release a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying the disbelief still coursing through you. But as you take in the surreal sight before you—Jungkook, undeniably real and impossibly transformed—you can no longer deny the truth. Your childhood friend is here, right in front of you, and he is, astonishingly, a merman.

“Oh, this is very real,” he teases, his voice rich and layered with an enigmatic quality that you can’t quite decipher but are desperate to understand.

“Are you really a merman?” you ask, your gaze drifting back to his tail, mesmerized by its iridescent beauty. It’s breathtaking, almost otherworldly.

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes glimmering with a wistful nostalgia that tugs at your heartstrings.

“What happened to you? Why did you leave?” you demand, the urgency in your voice revealing the depth of your longing and confusion. These are the questions that have haunted you for years, the ones you swore you’d ask if you ever saw him again. Why did he disappear without a word, leaving you behind?

You watch as his expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My parents and I had to move back home... to the ocean, I mean,” he explains, his face twitching as if struggling to mask an inner pain. “A rift in a tectonic plate devastated my village. Everything was destroyed, so we had to return and help rebuild.”

You study him closely, a lump forming in your throat as a myriad of emotions swirl within you.

“Okay. But why couldn’t you come back when you were done?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and hurt. It’s apparent that there are unresolved feelings of abandonment lingering within you, a reminder of the wounds you may need to address with your therapist.

“I really wanted to, but my parents and the village elders forbade it. We dedicated ourselves to rebuilding our village, but returning to the surface was strictly prohibited,” he explains, a palpable sadness tinting his words. It’s evident that he had yearned to reunite with you, but the weight of his responsibilities as a merman ultimately kept him bound to the depths of the ocean.

“Why are you here now? And are there others like you?” you inquire, a mix of bewilderment and intrigue coloring your tone. As you press for more information, you notice him visibly relax, his features softening once again in response to your curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been here for quite a while. I come up here to sing, often thinking of you, actually,” he confesses, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “And yes, there are others like me,” he adds with a chuckle, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and friendly banter.

“Thinking of me?” you stammer in amazement, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settles in.

“Yeah. I’ve missed you since I had to leave, and I’ve been searching for you for years. Meeting you again feels like a dream come true,” he confesses, his voice filled with palpable joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. His words send a surge of warmth through you, igniting a flutter of emotions you thought long buried. As your heart skips a beat, you’re struck by the realization that the childhood crush you harbored for him still lingers, stronger than ever.

“I’ve missed you too,” you exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. With a gentle touch, you extend your hand, laying it atop his on the rough surface of the rock, a silent reassurance of your enduring bond.

“How come you’re a merman? You were just a boy last time I saw you…” you begin, not really knowing how to ask the question that you have swirling in your mind.

“You want to know if something happened to me, to make me like this,” he gestures with his other hand over his body— it’s well defined, muscles big and strong, “or if I’d always been a merman?” His words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the mysteries surrounding his transformation.

You choke on air with how effortlessly he articulates your thoughts, a skill he’s always possessed. You nod in agreement, the intensity of your curiosity driving you to lean in closer, desperate to unravel the enigma of his transformation.

“I’ve always been a merman. My parents chose to live as humans— they’re merfolk too, by the way. But they wanted me to experience life on land. So, despite appearances, I’ve always been like this,” he explains, a smile gracing his lips as he playfully flips his tail in the water, sending ripples dancing in his wake.

“How… How do you transform?” you ask, studying him intently once more. Despite his remarkable change, he still retains that familiar essence, stirring up the remnants of the childhood crush you thought you’d outgrown. A flush of warmth creeps across your cheeks, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

“Well. When I’m out of water for an extended period, I assume my human form. And when I’m in contact with water, I revert to my merman form,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. As his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch is tender, each stroke a gentle caress that ignites a spark of warmth within you.

You nod, absorbing his explanation, but then you gasp as his words sink in, a realization dawning on you. “Do you transform when it rains then?” you blurt out, the question bursting forth with newfound urgency and curiosity.

His laughter fills the air, rich and unrestrained, sending ripples of warmth through your chest. Your gaze instinctively drifts to his chest, where the rhythmic movement of his pectorals accompanies the melody of his mirth, a captivating display of joy that you can’t help but revel in.

“No. That wouldn’t be very practical. It has to be seawater, or simply prolonged exposure to water can also do the trick,” he explains, his tone laced with a hint of amusement at the notion of rain-induced transformations.

You nod in understanding once more. “Nothing about this is practical, Jungkook,” you remark, a hint of incredulity lacing your tone.

He chuckles again, withdrawing his hand from yours and gently cupping your cheek. His touch sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited into a flickering flame, ready to blaze anew.

He locks eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and intense, brimming with depths of emotion that beckon you to explore. It’s like peering into an uncharted ocean, filled with mysteries waiting to be discovered. Despite the unfamiliarity, you’re drawn to dive deep and lose yourself in the depths of his gaze.

“Do you remember our promise?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, yet resolute. Seeking solace in the familiarity of your gaze, his words carry the weight of cherished memories and unspoken vows.

“Of course,” you respond with a bittersweet smile, lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger. “I’ve never forgotten you, Jungkook,” you affirm, the weight of years past and promises kept evident in your touch.

He hums a melody, its tune unfamiliar yet strangely soothing, and in that moment, you find solace in the sound of his voice, the melody a balm to your racing heart. “I’ve never forgotten you either, ___,” he confesses, his words carrying the weight of shared memories and enduring connection.

With his other hand, he reaches out, extending his pinky finger to intertwine with yours, creating a connection that feels like two worlds colliding, merging into one. It’s a moment of transcendence, where past and present converge, binding you both in a promise that spans the depths of time.

“I never got to tell you this on that day, and it has haunted me since, but I like you,” His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and a vulnerability that echoes through your soul. As he gazes into your eyes, it feels like he’s peeling away layers of your being, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, despite the fabric that shields your skin. With each moment, he draws nearer, his touch a gentle anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

“I like you too,” your confession hangs in the air, suspended between you like a delicate thread woven with anticipation and longing. With every word, you feel the weight of your emotions, amplified by the closeness of his presence. As your breath brushes against his skin, you can almost taste the bittersweet tang of desire mingled with the salt of the ocean breeze.

In his embrace, you feel cherished, cocooned in a world where only the two of you exist. His gaze, laden with affection, dances between the depths of your eyes and the soft curve of your lips, a silent symphony of desire. You catch the subtle flicker of his pupils as they dilate, mirroring the fluttering of your heart. A fleeting gesture, your tongue brushes against your lips, a subtle invitation to bridge the divide between longing and fulfillment.

In the hushed sanctuary of the moonlit cave, time seems to stretch into a languid dance, enveloping you both in its tender embrace. The world outside fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the rhythmic melody of your shared breaths echoing off the rocky walls. Your gaze descends to the plush pinkness of his lips, a tantalizing invitation begging to be explored. A surge of curiosity and desire courses through you, igniting a tempest of longing as you ponder the intoxicating possibility of tasting his kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” His question hangs in the air like a delicate promise, and you feel a rush of anticipation flooding your senses, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His words, soft yet laden with unspoken longing, send a tremor of excitement coursing through your veins. In that suspended moment, you find yourself caught in the irresistible pull of his gaze, his eyes a sea of swirling emotions mirroring your own. With a silent plea echoing in your heart, you grant him permission with a subtle nod, your breath hitching in anticipation as you yearn for the moment when his lips will meet yours.

His tattooed hand, warm and possessive, slides from your cheek to the back of your neck with a gentle urgency, pulling you into him as if he’s afraid you might slip away. When his lips meet yours, it’s like a collision of stars, soft yet electric, igniting a wildfire of sensation that courses through your veins. As he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort, you’re overcome with a rush of warmth and affection. With a soft chuckle escaping your lips, you reach for him, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair as you draw him closer. The second kiss is a revelation, a crescendo of desire and longing that leaves you breathless and craving more. His hum reverberates against your lips, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, like a lifeline in a sea of swirling emotions.

You draw back reluctantly, a sigh escaping your lips as you feel the bittersweet ache of parting. “It’s getting late,” you murmur, the weight of reality settling in as you remember your responsibilities waiting beyond the cave’s embrace.

“When will I see you again?” the question hangs between you like a delicate thread, woven with hope and uncertainty, longing for reassurance in the face of impending separation.

A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and he licks his lips with a playful flick of his tongue, relishing the way your senses are all tangled up in a whirlwind of emotions—frazzled yet utterly blissed-out in his presence.

“Soon,” he assures with a reassuring smile, his touch lingering for a moment longer as his thumb caresses your lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “You can always find me here, or just listen for my voice. But duty calls back home. I’ll return, I promise.” With that, he pulls away, releasing you from the spell of the moment, but leaving behind a promise that lingers in the air like the echo of his voice in the cave.

Reluctantly, you rise, dusting off imaginary particles from your skin with a sweep of your hands, lingering in the moment a bit longer. With a soft smile, you regard him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and longing.

“You really have a beautiful voice, Jungkook,” you murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and admiration, like a gentle breeze in the tranquil cave.

With a smile that seems to illuminate the entire cave, he gracefully immerses himself in the water, causing it to dance and ripple around him like liquid poetry in motion.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” you express, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and affection, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you hold for him.

“I’ll be counting the moments until our paths cross again,” he murmurs softly, his words carrying on the gentle breeze as he fades into the depths below, leaving you with the lingering promise of his return.

Jungkook had indeed kept his word. Though you trusted him, a small part of you feared you’d never see him again. Yet, the very next day, he reappeared in the cave, serenading you with a song as you basked in his presence. This enchanting ritual has continued every day for the past two weeks, each encounter deepening your bond and making the fear of losing him fade away.

So far, your encounters have been limited to kisses, which you absolutely love—his lips are incredibly soft. Yet, lately, you’ve found yourself yearning for more. The stress of your upcoming housewarming party, which you’ve shared with Jungkook, isn’t helping. You think that letting loose with him might be just what you need to de-stress.

“Why are you having this party again if you don’t really want to?” he asks, genuinely curious. He can’t fathom why you’d willingly burden yourself with the hassle of pleasing others when it clearly brings you no joy.

“I guess it’s just expected of me,” you muse, looking down at the sparkling water as his tail gently plays with it, creating ripples. “My friends are coming, my parents too. They haven’t seen my new house yet.”

He smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for them, but it sounds like you’re forcing yourself. That makes me a bit sad.”

You shake your head and put up your hands in defense. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not like I dislike it completely. It’ll be nice seeing my friends again.” You pause, a sudden idea lighting up your face.

“You could also come, you know?”

His face brightens momentarily, but then he slumps down in the water, looking a bit deflated. “I’d love to come, but I’m not sure I can. My hyungs need my help in the village; one of them has been missing for days, and we’ve been searching for him without luck…” His voice trails off, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face.

You feel a twinge of sadness for him and say softly, “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I hope you find him soon. Just know you’re always welcome, no matter when.”

His smile returns, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he speaks. “Thanks. Jimin usually never wanders off, that’s why we’re afraid something has happened to him.”

You envelop him in a hug, offering what comfort you can, despite not knowing Jimin. You silently pray for Jimin’s swift return—after all, you understand more than most the ache of missing a piece of your heart.

A few days later, the soft strains of music fill your home, weaving through the laughter and chatter of old and new friends alike, and the comforting presence of your parents, whose faces you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity.

As you mingle with your friends, catching up on stories and laughter, time seems to dance away unnoticed. It’s only when the gentle kiss of the evening breeze starts to nip at your skin that you realize how long you’ve been engrossed in conversation with your colleague out on the terrace. With a shared chuckle at the sudden chill, you both retreat inside, seeking the warmth of good company and lively conversations.

Her joke evokes laughter from you, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by her sudden silence, drawing your attention to where her finger points. In the kitchen, your parents stand, their faces alight with smiles, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired man whose locks curl gently at the ends.

Her curiosity piques as she nudges you with a mischievous grin.

“Who’s that hot man with a tattooed arm over there talking with your parents?” she asks, her voice tinged with intrigue, prompting both of you to draw nearer to the kitchen.

As you draw closer, disbelief gives way to certainty: it’s unmistakably Jungkook standing beside your parents.

“___! You never mentioned Jungkook’s return! How long has it been, twenty years?” your mother exclaims, her smile radiant as she pinches Jungkook’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a long-lost child returned home.

Your dad’s eyes sparkle with the warmth of a long-awaited reunion, as if he’s just rediscovered an old friend, and you can’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you.

Your mother reaches out to embrace Jungkook, her petite frame enveloped by his much larger one, but he indulges her with a warm hug, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

With a playful grin, your friend nudges you, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook, a knowing glint sparkling in them. “Who is this handsome man?”

As you break from your reverie, you manage a sheepish grin, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and excitement. “This is Jungkook, my childhood friend. We go way back.”

“He’s hot,” your friend’s observation cuts through the air with a boldness that makes you chuckle, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she sizes up Jungkook.

Your mother’s laughter fills the room, a warm melody that dances around the air. “He really is! You’ve really outgrown that cute bunny phase you had,” she teases, her fingers playfully squeezing Jungkook’s rather impressive biceps.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me,” you groan, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation painting your voice as you reach for Jungkook’s hand, eager to escape the teasing clutches of both your parents and your friend.

As you pull him away, Jungkook chuckles softly, following you into the living room where you both sink into the inviting embrace of the couch.

Amidst the chatter filling the room, engaging in conversation with Jungkook proves challenging, his words often drowned out by the lively voices of others around you.

“Would you like to step out for a bit? Take a stroll along the beach?” he proposes, his gaze alight with anticipation, as if the idea itself holds a promise of something wonderful.

With a nod, you clasp his hand, a silent agreement passing between you. But before you step out into the night, you make a quick detour to your friend, informing her of your plans for a seaside stroll.

She scrutinizes you with the intensity of a hawk, then delves into her purse, emerging with something in hand. “Here,” she says, passing it to you.

“I have a feeling you might need this.”

You accept the small foil packet, its presence alone sending a jolt of recognition through you. Your cheeks and ears ignite with heat, and you hastily tuck it into your jeans pocket, your gratitude tinged with embarrassment. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice slightly breathless.

As you begin to turn away, she shoots you a playful wink, causing you to release a sigh of embarrassment, your cheeks still flushed with color.

Outside, you stroll barefoot on the sand, reveling in the moment with Jungkook by your side—both of you connected to the earth beneath your feet. His presence captivates you, his figure tall and striking against the backdrop of the beach. Shoulder-length hair dances around his face, adding to his allure. With each step, you admire his physique—broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, muscular thighs moving with purpose. Clad in a white tank top, his biceps speak of strength, while his snug blue denim jeans accentuate his powerful legs, showcasing a silhouette that commands attention.

His human form is undeniably beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the breathtaking splendor of his merman form. This realization brings a soft smile to your lips, and a blush warms your cheeks.

You walk with him along the beach, your hand nestled comfortably in his, the silence stretching between you like a warm blanket. It feels like an eternity before he clears his throat, a deep rumble that breaks the quiet. “Do you want to go to the cave?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hopeful anticipation.

You look up at him, captivated by the soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” you agree, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Cool. I know a way to get there from land,” he says, pulling you along the shore. Your feet sink into the cool sand with each step, the waves gently lapping at your ankles as you follow him, while he makes an effort not to let the seawater touch him.

“You do? I thought it was only accessible from the sea,” you chuckle, feeling the excitement build as he leads you closer to the rocky formations along the cliffside.

“I know a lot of hiding spots,” he giggles, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he reveals a narrow, almost hidden entryway in the cliffside, just big enough for him to slip through.

You step into the familiar cliffside cave where you’ve been meeting for the past few weeks. Nestling into the small sandy patch, the only section not enveloped in stone, you feel a comforting sense of familiarity mixed with anticipation.

“Much easier to talk in here, huh?” Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the cave wall. The gentle echo of his laughter fills the space, making it feel cozier. You nod, a soft, airy chuckle escaping your lips as a blush warms your cheeks. Sitting beside him, the intimacy of the cave amplifies every shared glance and whispered word.

You look up at him, your eyes fluttering bashfully. “I don’t really want to talk anymore,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk,” he says, his voice deflating as a pout forms on his lips. That’s when it hits you—he has no idea how much you crave him, how badly you want to feel him, everywhere.

You turn your body towards his, your hands caressing his face as you pull his face towards yours. “I want to do more than talk,” you quip, your voice small but steady. “I want to kiss you and so much more.”

Something seems to snap in him, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his cheeks. He moves his face closer to yours, your noses almost touching. “So you want more?” he teases, his voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word escaping in a breathless pant as you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his in a fervent, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that blazes between you. Your hands hold his cheeks in place, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, as he responds eagerly, deepening the kiss with his tongue, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

When you part, both of your eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

“I want you, Kook,” you plead, your breath mingling with his, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate connection.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his body, dancing over the contours of his chest until they halt at the brink of his jeans.

“I want you too, ___, but I—” he pants, his words cut short as you start to rub your hand over his clothed dick, eliciting a deep, gratifying groan from him.

You keep teasing him with your hand, feeling the growing hardness beneath your touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lick your lips, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, every subtle reaction driving you wild with desire.

“Hmm, you like it?” you ask, positioning yourself directly in front of him, locking eyes as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes, but I—” as your hand maintains its pressure on his crotch, he stammers out his words, his voice a mixture of desire and hesitation.

“What, are you a virgin?” your playful tease hangs in the air, accompanied by a soft chuckle, as you lean in closer to him, your breath warming his ear with your whispered words.

“No!” His response is hurried, almost defensive, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve just never done it with a human before…” he confesses, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity.

You draw back slightly, scanning his face, catching a glimpse of uncertainty mingled with desire flickering in his eyes.

“I can guide you through it, show you what feels good. Trust me, you’ll enjoy every moment,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and anticipation.

“I mean, Jin hyung already told me how it works,” he pants, his gaze fixated on your hand as it works its magic, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm, “I’ve touched myself before, out of curiosity, but I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

Your expression softens, recognizing that this is a new experience for him, so you resolve to take it slow.

“Mermen don’t exactly have dicks like humans,” he chuckles, his movements against your hand betraying his eagerness for friction.

You lean in again, teasing him, “How exactly do merfolk have sex?”

He chuckles, smirking at you, “Well, it’s more like a mating ritual, honestly. There’s some swimming around, almost like a dance, rubbing against each other. It’s quite primal and intimate, in its own way.”

You frown, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief evident on your face. “That’s it?”

He nods, his expression both amused and sincere.’

“No teasing? Release of bodily fluids? Making out? Sticking things into holes?” you list, your expression a mix of incredulity and disappointment. God, you really do like sex and all of the things you just listed. Mermaid intercourse sounds slightly boring in comparison.

“No sticking things into holes sadly—except for tongue kissing,” he chuckles, masking his disappointment with a playful grin, though you sense a tinge of longing in his eyes.

“But you get to try that now, okay? Then you can tell all your friends how it is to have sex with a human,” you smile, feeling a bit mischievous, your words laced with humor as you try to lighten the mood after the serious discussion.

“Many of them have already experienced it,” he laughs, his tone tinged with excitement and a hint of anticipation, “My hyungs have done it a lot, and I can’t wait to experience it myself.”

“They sound like they’ve had their fair share of adventures,” you chuckle, stealing a glance downwards, noticing the telltale strain in his pants.

He chuckles, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Can we talk about something else? Because I’m having trouble focusing on your hand when I’m talking about my friends.”

With a playful laugh, you grasp the situation and share a knowing glance. Eager to reignite the passionate spark between you, you playfully unzip his pants, only to discover he’s gone commando—a thrilling surprise that sets your heart racing and ignites a rush of desire.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow, your fingers wrapping around his cock teasingly. “No underwear?” you jest, a playful twinkle in your eye, as you give him a tantalizing stroke, feeling his anticipation building with each caress.

With a low, guttural sound, he shifts his weight, arching his back to assist as you peel off the remainder of his jeans. Your fingers eagerly find their way back to his dick, marveling at its girth and length, already imagining the delicious stretch it will bring. The anticipation sends shivers down your spine.

His cock is long— longer than average, and thicker too. The tip is red, a small bead of precum gathered at the top, just waiting to be tasted by your tongue.

He teases you, his hips surging upward as if to test your grip. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, his eyes locking onto yours as he waits for your response.

You meet his gaze with a smirk, your fingers still wrapped around him. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” you concede, your voice laced with anticipation. Honestly, you don’t care much about the size of it, more about how good he is at using it.

He watches you intently, his gaze probing yet curious. “Have you had a lot of sex before?”

You nod and give him a small smile.

You lean in closer, your eyes locked with his, conveying your sincerity and eagerness. “I have, but let’s focus on us now,” you whisper, your voice tinged with determination. “I want to make you feel good, and then you can return the favor. How does that sound?”

With a tantalizing smile, you moisten your lips before lowering them to his cock. The instant contact makes him quiver, a reaction that only fuels your desire. You start by tracing him with your tongue, savoring his taste, before enveloping him completely in your warm, wet mouth.

He utters adorable, needy moans as your mouth envelops him, his reactions spurring you on as you slide up and down, sucking him with fervor and intensity.

His hands find your hair, gripping it gently at first, then with a bit more urgency, but you don’t mind one bit. Instead, it fuels your desire, urging you to take more of him into your mouth, to please him further with every movement.

The echoing sounds of slurping fill the cave, reverberating off the rocky walls, creating a symphony of desire. Each wet, sucking noise only fuels your arousal further, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with every passing moment.

“Shit. I’m feeling like I might come already,” he pants, his fingers tightening in your hair, a futile attempt to control the rising tide of pleasure coursing through him.

You release him with a soft pop, panting as you meet his pleading gaze, a flicker of desire mirrored in your eyes, silently promising more to come.

“It felt really good, but I really want to know what it feels like being inside your pussy, please,” his plea echoes through the cave, his eyes pleading like a desperate puppy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his adorable earnestness, your own desire kindled by his longing gaze.

“Of course. I want to have you inside of me too,” you pant, urgency seeping into your voice as you hastily pull your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra to him, a silent invitation in the flickering light of the cave.

“You’re stunning,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation. “It’s not just your body that I love, but your entire essence, your personality—it’s all so captivating.”

Your smile widens, mirroring the warmth and affection swelling in your chest as you gaze at him. As you begin to unbutton your pants, a thought nudges its way into your consciousness. Retrieving the foil packet from your pocket, you place it on the ground between you, a silent promise of the intimacy about to unfold.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the foil packet, curiosity sparking in his eyes like a flame catching kindling. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue and a hint of anticipation, as if sensing the gravity of the moment wrapped in that small, innocuous package.

You chuckle softly, charmed by his innocence, realizing he’s never encountered a condom before. It’s endearing, really, how sheltered his underwater world has been.

“It’s a condom. It’s for protection,” you explain gently, feeling a mix of tenderness and amusement at his innocence. “You put it on your cock. I’m on birth control, but it never hurts to be extra safe,” you assure him, deciding to take the lead and offer to help him put it on.

As you attempt to open the foil packet, he intercepts your movement with a smirk, halting you with his hand. “Not now. I want to taste you first. Can I? And will you let me know if you like it or not? I’ve never tried it before,” he trails off, his voice soft and endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize just how charming he can be.

His hands find purchase on your hips, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your pants down, leaving you bare in your underwear. His gaze travels over you, from your eyes down to your dripping cunt, igniting a fire of anticipation in your core.

“Your panties are wet.”

You chuckle in response, a mix of excitement and nervousness dancing in your eyes as you obediently part your legs wider, inviting him in with a playful yet anticipatory smirk.

“That’s because I’m aroused,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as his touch sends a delicious shiver down your spine, your anticipation building with every electrifying caress of his hand against your hip bone and down to your pussy.

“You can remove it,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire, as you arch your back, offering yourself to him, a silent invitation. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to the dimly lit cave, the anticipation thickening the air between you.

He lowers himself between your parted legs, his touch sending shivers up your spine as his hands explore the soft skin of your thighs, eliciting playful giggles from your lips. With agonizing slowness, his fingertips inch closer to your aching pussy, your body aching with desire, yearning for his touch. You find yourself silently begging for him to make contact, your entire being consumed by the anticipation of his caress.

“Please, Jungkook,” you implore, your voice trembling with urgency and longing, “I need to feel you, your touch—whether it’s your fingers or your mouth, I don’t care. Just touch me.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and understanding, he delicately traces his index finger over your sensitive clit. The sensation overwhelms you, eliciting a strangled gasp of his name, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

With each gentle stroke of his finger over your clit, you can’t help but release a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Sensing your pleasure, he continues, his movements becoming more confident as he circles and rubs your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As your breath quickens and your body trembles with anticipation, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain control, your legs quivering with need. Sensing your urgency, he gently guides your legs apart with his free hand, allowing him better access to your pussy.

He watches, entranced, as your clit pulsates, the rhythmic flexing and relaxing of the muscle a mesmerizing sight. The vision of your arousal sends a jolt of desire through him, making his own need painfully evident.

“You can put a finger in,” you pant, your voice trembling with need, eyes wide and pleading for more.

He looks up, his eyes searching yours, “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with both concern and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip, a soft groan escaping your throat. “Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice laced with desperate longing, “I want your fingers inside me now.”

With the hand that was expertly teasing your clit, Jungkook slides it down to your slick folds, marveling at how you glisten in the moonlit cave. He gently positions his index finger, then slowly, almost tantalizingly, pushes it inside you, making you gasp at the intimate sensation.

The pleasure hits you instantly, a surge of desire overwhelming your senses. You crave more, each second intensifying your need, as if every nerve in your body is crying out for him.

“Wow,” he breathes, mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing into your hole, his eyes wide with awe and desire.

Mesmerized, he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your sweet noises of pleasure fill the cave, encouraging him. After a moment, he looks up, his voice husky with desire, “Can I add another one?”

You nod, and another finger slips into your pussy, stretching you just a bit more. The sensation is intoxicating, yet you crave so much more. You’re trying to maintain control, to let him take his time, but the need inside you is almost overwhelming.

“Please,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with desire, “add a third finger and use your other hand to play with my clit.” You crave the sensation, the stretch, the readiness for his cock, your need palpable in every word.

With a swift motion, you unhook your bra, allowing it to slip to the ground. His movements pause as his gaze fixes on your exposed chest—your nipples standing pert and proud, a silent invitation to his touch.

As his gaze reluctantly leaves your exposed chest, he resumes his attention on you, the third finger sliding into you with a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips at the welcomed stretch. His thumb, slick with your juices, finds your clit once more, initiating a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Breathless and on the edge of ecstasy, you manage to muster the question, your voice filled with awe and admiration, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Because you’re really good at it.”

His laughter dances in the air, a melody to your unraveling pleasure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a perplexed frown until you see him drawing nearer, his tongue tracing the contours of your pussy.

You surrender to the ecstasy, tossing your head back as waves of pleasure wash over you, relishing the sensation of his velvety tongue caressing every contour of your quivering folds and sending electric pulses of delight through your clit.

With a hunger that matches your own, he envelops your clit, his mouth becoming a vortex of ravenous need, as he sucks and teases, drawing forth the essence of your desire and savoring every drop of your arousal with a fervent devotion.

With an almost expert touch, he draws your sensitive bud into his mouth, creating a vortex of sensation that sends electrifying pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. Each suction brings you closer to the edge, igniting a fiery intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. As you pant and gasp, your senses reel with the impending release, the anticipation coiling tighter within you like a spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts, igniting a trail of sensation that sends shivers down your spine. With each touch, you feel the heat building within you, a primal urge demanding release. Your fingertips dance over your nipples, teasing them to attention, and you can’t help but respond with a symphony of gasps and moans.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, drawn to the symphony of your movements, your gasps and moans orchestrating a melody of desire. Yet, he remains steadfast in his task, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of ecstasy as he devours you with hunger, like he has done this many times before. It’s as though he’s an artist, each stroke of his tongue a masterpiece, each flicker of his lips a masterpiece of passion.

As your body arches and trembles with impending release, you’re acutely aware that the peak of ecstasy is just within reach. “Jungkook,” you gasp, your voice a fervent plea, “I’m... I’m going to come.”

With his deep chuckle vibrating against your most sensitive spot, you’re overcome by the intoxicating blend of sensations. In an instant, your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure, your fingers tangling in his ebony locks, anchoring you to the dizzying whirlwind of ecstasy as he eagerly savors every drop of your essence.

With a gentle and tender gaze, he pulls away, his features adorned with a shimmer of your essence. “Was this alright?” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet his eyes brimming with warmth and adoration. With a gasp of disbelief, you draw him into a passionate kiss, savoring the mingling taste of yourself on his lips, yet your heart races with an electric thrill. “It was perfect,” you murmur against his mouth, your voice laden with sincerity and longing, sealing the moment with fervent intensity.

“Now you can fuck me,” filled with need, you voice your desire, urgency coloring every syllable, as you reach for his shirt and hastily pull it over his head. Your fingers fumble with the foil packet, opening it with a sense of anticipation, before your hand finds his still-hard cock.

With careful precision, you slide the condom over his dick, a tangible barrier between you and raw desire. As you spread your legs, creating space for him, his cock hovers tantalizingly close to where you ache for him most. In his gaze, you detect a mixture of longing and uncertainty, silently seeking your permission to proceed.

You take control, grasping his cock firmly and guiding it to your eager entrance. With a whispered instruction, you urge him to press forward, “Push a little, but slowly.”

As he nods in agreement, a determined glint ignites in his eyes. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he starts to ease his cock into the welcoming warmth of your eager pussy, each inch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, stretching you deliciously with every inch gained.

His breath hitches, voice laced with wonderment, “Wow. You’re so tight,” he pants, his words punctuated by the sensation of more and more of his dick disappearing into the velvety depths of your cunt, a symphony of pleasure enveloping you both with each inch he claims.

“God, you’re big,” you pant back, a mixture of excitement and anticipation lacing your voice as you try your best to relax, welcoming the exquisite stretch and fullness as he almost fills you up, every inch of him stirring a delicious ache within you.

Finally, he’s completely inside, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, feeling every pulsing inch of him deep within you, a rush of sensation flooding your senses as you revel in the delicious fullness he provides.

“You can move now,” you encourage him with a smile, eager anticipation shimmering in your eyes as you invite him to explore the depths of pleasure with each rhythmic thrust.

“How? You’re hugging me so tight,” he groans in pleasure, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if seeking your direction amidst the waves of sensation coursing through both of you.

“Feel how we fit together?” you whisper, your hands tenderly guiding his hips. “Just move your hips—back and forth. Follow the rhythm of our bodies, and trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

“I already feel so good.”

He starts with a gentle push, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting an electric dance between your bodies, and you can’t help but moan in bliss.

“Don’t stop—faster,” you urge him on, and he responds with a surge of intensity, each thrust echoing in the cavern, a symphony of desire enveloping you both.

Your hands abandon his ass and hips once you’re satisfied he’s got the rhythm, his every thrust hitting that perfect spot, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You moan his name, the sound igniting a primal response in him, his grunts mingling with your name, creating a symphony of passion in the cave.

“Keep going—harder,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire. With each thrust, he drives into you with unyielding force, your back meeting the rough cave wall, igniting a primal intensity that leaves you breathless. You know there’ll be marks and scratches later, but at this moment, all you care about is the raw, primal pleasure he’s giving you.

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing against the walls of the cave, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to clutch his strong biceps for leverage. The intricate tattoo sleeve he has on his right arm, flexing with the strength he puts into his thrusts. With each powerful movement of his hips, he plunges deeper into you, igniting a primal fire that consumes both of you in an insatiable frenzy.

“___. I think I’m going to come soon,” he confesses, his voice strained with pleasure, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the impending release.

“Me too. Shit. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out, your disbelief mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. His skill and passion feel too seasoned for a first-timer, leaving you both questioning the truth of his innocence.

“I’m just a fast learner,” he teases, his lips finding solace on one of your exposed nipples, eliciting a fervent moan of his name from you.

He sucks and nibbles at it, all while hitting your soft spot with precision. It’s an onslaught of sensation, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within you, threatening to unravel at any moment.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your nipple, only to lavish the same attention on its twin. His kisses, licks, and sucking send ripples of pleasure through your body, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

That’s it. You’re gonna come again.

“Fuck, Kook,” you cry out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you as you surrender to the torrent of ecstasy, your pussy releasing your liquid and pulsating around his cock, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you with the breakneck speed he’s moving his hips at.

“Damn, how did you just get even tighter?” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure, his primal urges driving him to the brink of ecstasy. You feel his urgency, knowing he’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Fuck—” he pants, his breath ragged and erratic. Then, he stutters, his movements turning feral for a moment as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy, and he releases into the condom, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

He stills inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he puts all of his weight into his arms. You gaze at him with a smile, your hand finding his cheek, gently pulling him closer to you, a silent reassurance in your touch.

You kiss him tenderly, the intimacy lingering in the air as your lips meet in a long and deep embrace. When you finally part, your breath mingling, you whisper softly, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Me too,” his voice carries a gentle exhaustion, mirroring the weariness you also feel settling in. You share a quiet moment, the weight of your shared passion and pleasure evident in the silence that follows.

As he gradually softens inside you, he withdraws gently. You swiftly retrieve the condom, deftly disposing of it with a practiced flick, tossing it into the depths of the cave, a silent testament to the intimacy shared in this hidden sanctuary.

“Can we do it again?” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with desire, each word heavy with anticipation, begging for another swim into ecstasy.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his once more, the promise of another intimate time igniting a fire within you both.

“But maybe we can go for a swim first?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eyes as you feel your breathing gradually returning to normal.

His expression shifts to one of surprise. “You want to swim? I’ll revert to my merman form then…”

You gently grasp his cheek, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze echoing your sincerity. “I love you, whether you’re in your merman or human form. I love all of you. And yes, I want to swim with you. You know how much I love being in the water.”

As he eases into your proximity, he nods, inching towards the water within the cave. With a mesmerizing display, a cascade of sparkle and glitter dances in the air as his legs seamlessly meld into a majestic purple tail. Your jaw drops, captivated once again by the breathtaking sight of his merman form, each time feeling like the first time you saw him like this.

He gracefully glides into the water with a splash, and you eagerly trail behind, tentative at first, dipping your toes into the cool embrace, then succumbing to the gentle caress that envelops your entire naked form.

You swim alongside him, venturing beyond the confines of the cave, out into the vast expanse of the open sea. The ocean stretches endlessly, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of moonlit waves. Above, the sky is a tapestry of stars, each one twinkling like a promise of infinite possibilities. Though your house is a distant silhouette against the shore, it fades from your thoughts in the enchantment of this moment.

As you glide through the water beside him, the gentle rhythm of his tail occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes, you find yourself drawn to the mystery of his world. “I’d love to see your home someday,” you say, the words carried away by the ocean breeze, mingling with the soft lullaby of the waves.

“Yeah. I know a witch that can turn you into a mermaid, if you really want to,” he says with a big smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they meet your surprised gaze, mirroring your astonishment with his own excitement.

Your eyes widen with wonder— the thought of becoming a mermaid, a cherished childhood dream, suddenly within reach. “I’d love that,” you breathe, your voice filled with an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief, as if daring the universe to make this fantasy a reality.

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peachesofteal · 23 days ago

Text

Fix You

John Price/female reader 11k words - AO3 - story is set in Through Me (The Flood) but is an AU and can be read as a standalone. Tags: 18+ major character death, heavy angst, loss of a loved one. Grief. Overconsumption of alcohol. Explicit sexual content. Emotional hurt/comfort. Complicated feelings. Angry sex. Caretaking. Trauma. Tenderness. Reader is a widow.

John Price knocks on your door in the late afternoon.

When the doorbell rings, you slip the baby into her bouncer and rub Orion’s hair affectionately at the table where he’s scribbling away with some crayons.

You’re not expecting anyone, but you guess it could be Cami. Though she usually just waltzes through the front door after using her key.

But it’s not.

It’s John.

You’re silent in front of him, eyes wide. He’s holding a bag, a black duffel, still dressed for work, for battle, face pinched in despair. Your heart lurches. “What is it?” He peeks over your shoulder to where the kids are, preoccupied, happy.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“No,” you tell him sharply. “No, I- what is it? Where is he? How bad is it?” His eyes soften, and he whispers your name. You barely notice when he reaches over to close the front door, too busy cycling through every worse case scenario. He eyes the chairs on the porch.

“Let’s sit down.”

“No.” You’re going to be sick. “Just tell me. Say it.” There’s a long moment where your life plays out in front of you. The stretch of before, and after. John takes a deep breath.

“He’s gone.” Gone. Gone as in, missing? Gone as in, on a different mission? What does gone mean? Your confusion must be blatant, because he reaches for your shoulder. “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.” You jerk away and laugh. That’s all you can do. Laugh. Laugh at the absurdity. Simon's not dead. He can't be. That makes no sense.

“No, he’s not, he can’t be. I literally just talked to him, like three days ago. He said you guys were wrapping up, that you were done.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, he’s-“

“Stop. Don’t- don’t say that. He’s coming home. You’re all supposed to be home next week, he promised, he-“ Your mind is fighting something your heart already knows. “It’s not true.”

“We ran into a situation, there was-“

“Stop!” You back away, bumping into the railing. You’re shivering, sobbing, unable to catch your breath.

“C’mon,” he says gently, trying to guide you towards the chair, but you don’t budge. You can’t. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to accept it. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to move forward. You don’t have to live a life without him. You don’t have to walk inside and tell your son his father is dead. Your daughter won’t have to grow up without ever knowing him.

“Please.” Your voice cracks, and you stare up at him. “Please, it’s a mistake, it must be. It has to be. He can’t- He promised, he promised.”

“I know.” You shake your head.

“Please.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t save him, I-“ His voice breaks, and then you do, sobbing so loud you’re sure it can be heard over the hills. A scream is building up inside you, burning and itching to get out, and he tugs you forward, cradles a hand around the back of your head and pushes your nose to his chest.

When it finally breaks free, it echoes directly over John’s heart.

You’ll never understand how people can say funeral services are beautiful.

They’re not.

They’re agonizing. Devastating. The last screw in the finality of your new reality.

It’s only you, the kids and his team. That’s all he had.

“You’re everything mama. I love you so much.”

Orion’s barely old enough to understand. He asks when he’ll see his dad again, and your answer is traumatizing for your child, at best. Daddy’s not coming home, you tell him. Daddy’s going somewhere else now, somewhere better.

He’s dead.

You black out during the entire thing. There are words being said, by a priest, by Johnny, by John, flowers being thrown. Cami stands at your side, holding your daughter, the child who will grow up never knowing her father. Barely five months old. Occasionally you look over at her, blissfully asleep, and you feel envy. Envy of your own child, who will never know this loss. Who will never feel the pain of losing Simon Riley.

Someone asks you if you want to do the honors of dumping the first shovelful of dirt onto his coffin.

You laugh out loud.

What a ridiculous custom.

Johnny and Kyle exchange a look of concern, you ignore them. You know what they think.

“Let’s get you home.” John’s eyes linger on your face, their sapphire and gunmetal shine holding you captive for a second as you grapple with what he’s said. If you were more present, more aware in this moment, you’d probably say they were akin to the palest hydrangeas, the color of the shrubs growing in your own front yard.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re not in any state at all, you’re just here, standing at the edge of the cemetery, staring at a mound of fresh dirt.

The dirt covering your husband.

Orion hugs your legs, trying to force his way between your knees. You’ve long tuned out the sound of his wails, unable to give him more, give him anything except your relentless grief.

You should be stronger, for them. Should handle this better.

There are a lot of things you should have done. Should have told him you loved him more. Should have been the one to hold his hand as he died. Should have made sure he wasn’t scared and alone at the end.

The gaping wound in your heart tears wider, and your knees buckle.

John wraps his arm around your shoulders, steadying you, shifting your weight into him, keeping you upright. Cami watches, gaze glossed over with tears, baby in her arms. Your baby. You and Simon’s baby. Orion cries louder.

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, to no one, to the wind-

But it’s John who answers. “You can.”

There are voices in the kitchen.

It’s late now, long after sunset, the day you buried your husband almost over. More and more of him slips away. You get farther and farther away from the last time you saw him, spoke to him, heard his voice with every second.

It aches, so you close your eyes instead and tuck the blanket under your chin, curled up with your nose in the couch cushion.

The kids are asleep. You’re hoping you’ll follow. Soon.

“-want us to stay?” It’s Kyle. He’s trying to keep his voice down but you’re only in the other room, on the couch, staring at the wall.

“No,” John assures him. “You guys go home. I’ll be here.”

“You sure? The kids… if she’s not feeling up to it, or needs help…” Cami’s voice is wet, still heavy with sadness.

“I’m here. I promised him.” There’s a long pause, and he clears his throat. “I’ve got her.”

You can’t dwell on them for too long, exhaustion of the day finally dragging you down, slowing your breathing and cutting off your consciousness, giving you a reprieve from the grief by sealing you away from it in your sleep.

“Mama?” Orion’s little voice calls for you in the dark, and you jerk awake. The baby is crying. Someone is knocking on the door.

“Hey little man,” your throat is raw, your voice not your own. His little eyebrows crease together.

He looks so much like him.

You glance around. You’re no longer on the couch but tucked away in bed, slippers placed neatly on the carpet, phone plugged into the charger. Odd, considering you fell asleep on the couch.

“You hungry?” He nods as you sit up and wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Alright, let’s have breakfast then. What do you think sounds good?”

“Waffles?” “Okay. Go wash up while I go get Nix.” And figure out who’s at the door.

“John.” His hands are in his pockets, beanie folded up on his forehead, and you don’t miss the way he evaluates you, crying, wriggling baby in your arms, still in your pajamas, Orion hollering about breakfast in the background.

“I wanted to come by and check on you guys.” Right. Of course. Come check on the widow. What if she can’t get herself out of bed? What if she’s too sad to take care of her kids? He grimaces and clears his throat. “You’re uh… you’re wet.” He inclines his head towards Nix, who is mouthing at your chest over your t-shirt. Shit.

“Oh, crap. Uh, come in. We were about to have breakfast. Well, not just about. Ry wanted waffles and I was about to start them,” you’re babbling down the hall, glancing at Orion in his booster seat at the counter, banging around a bowl and spoon like a little king waiting impatiently for his meal.

“’cle John!” He claps, and John smiles.

“I’ll start them for you while…” He trails off and you smile awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

Phoenix is an easy baby. She latches easily, eats easily, goes down to sleep easily. She’s a breeze compared to Orion at this age.

Small blessings, you guess.

Simon said it was you earned it, after Ry. You deserved it.

What did you do to deserve this?

“Mama sad.” Orion whispers, his mournful little voice the first thing you hear when you shuffle out of your room. Nix went down after a change and a burp. Easy.

“She misses your daddy,” John answers, “like us.”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip so hard it stings at the sound of his voice, dejected, depressed, palm finding the wall to stay upright.

The world tilts, falling out beneath you. For a second, you can see him. Standing on the other side of the counter, black sweatpants low on his hips, pouring some milk in Orion’s little orange cup, Nix cradled against him, stretched across his forearm. Simon laughs, licks his finger, and rubs something off the corner of Orion’s mouth.

You want to scream.

It’s a memory. Nothing else.

“.. okay?” John’s standing in front of you, head tilted, cupping your elbow. “You alright?” You raise your eyebrows, and he rolls his lips inward. “Sorry, course. You just… you looked a little sickly there for a minute.”

“Mama!” Orion yells, rocking back and forth to see you on either side of where John blocks the hallway. “Waffles!” You slide your hands down your shirt, Simon’s shirt.

“You made waffles?”

“Pre-mixed batter isn’t so hard. The lad was hungry.” Guilt simmers in the pit of your stomach, pinches your cheeks inward. “Hey, it’s okay. He was fine, jus’ a little impatient.” You nod, and he jerks his head back to the kitchen. “C’mon, I made you some too. And there’s fresh coffee.”

“Did you put me in bed last night?” You’re wiping down the countertop, some movie enrapturing your toddler in the background. He hesitates, and then nods.

“You were falling off the couch. Didn’t want you to brain yourself on the coffee table.” Your fingers curl around the mug, still warm to the touch, shoulders bunching beneath your ears before you forcibly relax them.

“Well, thanks.” I guess. An uncomfortable silence settles between you, questions evaporating on the tip of your tongue.

“I was going to head into town today for some groceries, can I get you anything?”

“Formula.” You blurt. “I can’t… we’ll need formula.” You don’t want to explain to him how it’s too much now, to breastfeed. How you won’t be able to handle it on top of everything else. How you think your milk will probably dry up anyway, bowing and breaking with the waves of your despair.

“What are you thinking about for dinner?” He scratches at the underside of his chin. The beard is overgrown, something you haven’t seen on him in a while, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

He’s grieving too. You know it.

You just can’t find it in you to care.

Something is weighing on John. Something is tied around his ankles, tethered to the sea floor, waiting to drag him beneath the surface. You see it. There’s guilt in the lines of his face, tension between his brows.

You wonder if there is blood on his hands.

“Why are you here, John?” You don’t intend to ask, but the words have a mind of their own and slip free.

“Wanted to stop by.” His voice is tight, rough like yours this morning. “Check in, see if you needed anything.” There are a million things you want to say, but words fail you. You don’t know how to tell him he should just leave, because nothing will ever be okay. You’ll always need something.

Simon.

Your husband.

The father of your kids. The man whose shirts are hung up in the closet. His paperback book still sitting open on his nightstand. His toothbrush still in the cup by the sink.

The agony you’ve managed to lock away for a few brief moments breaks free again, and you clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the heaving sob. John looks past you to where Orion still sits in front of the screen, mesmerized, and then takes you by the elbow to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, settling on the closed lid of the toilet, still choking on the lump in the back of your throat. “I told you, I can’t do this, I can’t. I can’t be without him, I don’t know how to be without him, I can’t-“

“Hey,” He’s crouched down, evening the height difference, looking at you with an expression so serious it quells your spiral for a fleeting moment. “You can do this. You have two beautiful kids who need you to do it for ‘em.” He hands you a square of toilet paper, and you wipe your nose.

“I want him back, John, I- I need him back.” You tuck your hands between your thighs, suddenly freezing, cold from the inside out.

“I know,” he murmurs gently, “I know you do.”

“There’s a lasagna in the fridge. Cami left it last night.” He’s tugging on his jacket, your handwritten grocery list from the fridge tucked in his pocket.

“Oh.” She’s texted you multiple times today, and all have gone unanswered. You don’t know what to say. “That was nice of her.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours after I take care of a few things and do the grocery run. You’ll be alright?” He’s treating you like glass. Like you’re a bomb primed to explode, big red letters counting down to an inevitable explosion. You manage to nod.

“Yeah.” The smile you give him is painfully fake, and you know he clocks it. “I’m going to hang out with the kids. Cuddle on the couch.” His smile is more genuine, but small.

“I’ll help you with dinner later.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” He turns to leave, but you call his name before he hits the door.

“John?” His eyes meet yours. Blue. Crystalline like the sapphire on your finger. You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

He nods.

John finds you catatonic on the couch one morning. Nix in her day crib, the one that’s a permanent fixture in the living room, and Orion perched in front of an old Disney movie for the hundredth time this week.

You’re failing. Failing your kids, failing as a mother, failing to keep yourself patched together.

You thought you’d be stronger if it ever happened. You promised him you would be, but the promises have turned meaningless, your integrity torn to pieces.

You can’t remember the last time you showered or brushed your teeth. You’re sure you smell.

At least the kids are clean. Dressed. Fed. You’re not a complete disaster, you guess.

Still, when John appears in your line of sight, brows knitted together with worry, you’re caught off guard.

“Oh.” You blink, his frown deepens.

“I was calling your name. Were you somewhere else sweet?” Sweet.

“Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” He takes you in from head to toe, you in all your grimy glory.

“How about you take a break?” Irritation ignites, and you grit your teeth.

“I’m fine,” you snap. “I don’t need help.” His arms cross his chest.

“It’s not a request. You’ve been wearing those sweatpants for four days. Get up, and get in the shower, or I’ll put you in myself.”

“Fuck off.” You hiss, and his eyes widen, surprised. How many people have surprised John Price? Close to none, you imagine.

“That’s enough.” He hauls you off the couch by your forearms just as Orion glances your way, little brain no doubt trying to understand the situation. “Be right back, bud.” John soothes him, and you seethe at how easily your son, Simon’s, nods and returns to his movie.

He’s gentle somehow, dragging you to the bathroom, but still forceful as he holds you by the elbow and reaches into the shower to turn the tap on.

The little fight that was inside you is gone. You wilt. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the floor, fingers knotted together.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” You’re sniffling, crying for the hundredth time in the last few days, and he rubs your upper arm.

“Nothing is going to be okay for a while,” he murmurs, “forever, even. But you’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay.”

The rest of the week goes too fast. You’re getting farther and farther away from it, from the moments when Simon was still alive in this world, when he still existed.

Desperate to slow it down, you don’t sleep. You sit in the kitchen and scroll through your phone, replaying the same videos over and over again, tears dripping down your cheeks. Grief is an emotion, but it’s a physical ailment too. It rots in your stomach and starves you. It aches between your ribs, so viscerally it’s like there is a knife twisted there, scraping against your bones, sawing between your muscle.

You take care of the kids in a daze. Feed and change Nix on autopilot. You give in to Orion’s every wish without a second thought, and he has waffles every morning. Chicken nuggets every night. Ice cream sundaes with too much chocolate syrup and a mountain of whipped cream. As much screen time as his little heart desires. You let him sleep in your bed, curled up in your arms, his little fist clinging to the neck of whichever shirt of Simon’s you’re wearing.

He can’t sleep in his own. He wakes up crying.

Cami comes over and stocks your fridge and freezer. She refills your tea canister. She vacuums the entire house. She feeds and changes the baby. You watch, listlessly, and when she’s finished, she squeezes your hand with a promise to be over again in a few days. You don’t have the words to thank her, so you don’t try. You want to believe she knows anyway.

John is the steady presence. He’s here, doing the dishes, making sure the three of you are eating, helping with the kids. He watches you shrewdly, careful.

A ticking time bomb.

One he’s afraid to set off.

It doesn’t matter how much they try to lessen the burden of living. How much they try to support you. They can’t change anything. They can’t stem the bleeding of your broken heart.

Seven days after Simon’s funeral, you crack the bottle, the one you had shipped from the states, stupid expensive Kentucky bourbon, caramel colored gasoline.

The baby is asleep. Orion is exhausted from his day with Gaz and Cami.

You’re alone on the front porch, curled up in a blanket, the hood of Simon’s sweatshirt pulled over your head. The only light you have is the green glow of the baby monitor. Otherwise, it’s just you, the moon, and the stars.

The hoodie still smells like him. So do the pillows. His t-shirts. His side of the closet. It’s a blessing. It’s agony.

You drink directly from the bottle, though you should use a glass. Simon would chastise you for not using a glass. He would tell you to sniff it from the rim of a tumbler, and then laugh when your nose wrinkled.

You should use a glass, but you don’t. It’s easier to take big sips this way.

Truck tires crunch on gravel, and then the broad figure of John Price stands at the foot of the porch. “Hey.” You raise the bottle, expecting him to laugh. He doesn’t. The stairs creak beneath his feet.

“What do you have there?”

“Bourbon.”

“Kentucky?”

“The one and only.” You take another swig, baring your teeth when it burns. You shake it. “Want some?”

“Think you’ve had enough for both of us.” Ass. You bristle, anger boiling in your blood, but you’re too drunk to stay on track and unleash it.

“Why are you here?” It’s the same question you asked earlier this week, but you still don’t understand. He holds your gaze for a long time. The only thing you find there is devastation.

“I promised him.”

“You promised him what?” He rubs the back of his neck.

“This isn’t a good time for this conversation, let’s go inside-“ You don’t budge. You can’t.

“You promised him what, John.”

“I was there,” his voice is hoarse, and there’s a heaviness to it, an agony the two of you share. “And he knew. He knew we wouldn’t get him back in time, no matter how fast we landed a bird.” You can’t see, vision blotted out by your tears. You want to put your hands over your ears. You want to know everything single thing. The two sides battle, and your cheeks grow wet like your face is upturned in a downpour. “He made me promise to take care of you. To take care of the kids. Grabbed me by the front of my vest and asked me to swear. So I did. I swore. I swore and I’m not going back on my word to him. I never will.”

“You were with him.” You’re not sure you want to know, but you have to. You have to know every piece of him, even this. Even the end.

“Yes. I was with him at the end. He wasn’t alone.” You clutch the bottle against your chest, so tight you’re afraid it might break, shatter the glass into your fingers. It would hurt less than this.

“Was he scared?”

“No. He was only thinking about you. You and the kids. He wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, that was all he cared about. He dug the pocket square out of his vest and held it over his heart.” The sob breaks free and destroys the dam holding everything together. Your body shakes with it, the ugly noises coming from within you, the pain of losing the love of your life.

“You were supposed to keep him safe.” Your voice raises, the alcohol tainting your ability to be rational or stay quiet.

“I know-“

“Mama?” You jolt, turning to ice, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. John swears under his breath.

“Orion,” you croak. He’s stricken, holding his sippy cup, wide eyes focused on your face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.” You try to reassure him, but his panic only increases, and you fail in the moment, unable to offer him comfort. John steps between the two of you and crouches.

“Hey bud.” He points at the sippy cup. “Need some milk in there?” Your son nods, trying to peek around him to see you. “How about,” John scoops him up, “we get you some more milk and get you back in bed okay?”

“I want mama.” His voice trembles. You feel sick and close your eyes, but the next thing you know there are little arms wrapping around your neck in a hug, your boy’s hair under your nose. You look up at John, his eyes red and his face tormented.

“Say goodnight and she’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“I love you, little man,” you kiss him once, twice, before rubbing his back. “Let Uncle John get you some milk and put you back to bed, okay? I’ll be in soon.” Their voices disappear down the hall, and you twist the cap on the bottle.

Down the hatch.

“He looks like him.” Orion is rolling around in the living room, playing with his magnatiles while Nix is on her back, feet in the air, kicking at the play arch. John hums, stroking a hand over his beard. He’s finally trimmed, looking more like himself and less like a mountain man.

It’s a strange feeling, to see him and notice it looks better. Good, even.

“He does.”

“Guess we’re lucky, in that way. Having these little pieces of him.” Orion has his eyes, his shoulders too. They have the same smile, even some of the same mannerisms, and it hurts so much to think about how it will fade over time, how Orion will no longer be able to mimic his father. John steers your mind away.

“Can I help you with dinner?” “No, I’m okay. But… if you want to stay, you can.” He should, but you don’t say it out loud. You don’t admit to him or even yourself that you’ve become reliant on him, his consistency, the steadfast force in your lives. Weeks have passed, and he hasn’t given up, no matter how hard you fight and fall apart. No matter how destructive you, the maelstrom at the center of your family’s life.

“We all lost-“

“You didn’t lose anything!” You’re screaming, finger jabbed in his chest, pushing him backward. He lets you. He doesn’t flinch. “He was mine! He was mine, not yours. He was ours. Our son’s. Our daughter’s. He belonged to us.” You’re barely breathing, suffocating underneath your grief, fingers going numb. He reaches, but you step away, swaying on your feet. You whimper. “F-fuck.”

“Come here.” It’s not a request, not the gentle coaxing you’re used to from him. It’s a command from a captain. When you don’t, he strikes, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into his chest, hand at the back of your neck. “Breathe.” He rocks you side to side slowly, head down, rumble in his diaphragm soothing against your ear. “C’mon, you can do it. Big breaths.”

“I can’t.” It’s the same thing you’ve been saying over and over again. You can’t do it, you can’t do this, you can’t you can’t you can’t you-

“Yes, you can, you can. Try. I’m right here, I won’t let you fail. I promise.”

“John said you needed a break.”

“John doesn’t make decisions for me.” You snap, and Cami winces, triggering a tidal wave of guilt. “I’m sorry Cam. I… I’m having a hard time.” She rubs your shoulder.

“I know. It’s okay. You’re not going to offend me or push me away. I just want to help.” You sigh. “Let me take them for the night. You can catch up on some trash tv. Read a book. Take a bath.” She whittles you down, and you finally concede.

Except being alone is bad for you. It’s bad for your mind. It’s bad for your heart.

Hours later, John finds you in a pile of Simon’s clothes. You’re curled up, nose buried in cotton, skin swollen under your eyes. “Oh, sweet.”

“Go away.” You don’t even lift your head.

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“That may be but I’m not leaving you here by yourself like this.” There’s an empty bottle of wine buried in this pile somewhere, and he plucks it free by the neck. “Didn’t save any for me?” It’s supposed to be a joke. It falls flat.

“I didn’t want… I didn’t want to have to think.” “I know.” He pulls you into a sitting position, palm cupping your cheek. “It’s okay.”

“I can help,” he motions to the kitchen. “I know how good you are with rice.” His smile turns mischievous, bright blue irises sparkling in the low afternoon sun, and you glower.

“I’m not that bad.”

The sink gets clogged one afternoon.

You try to diagnose it yourself, scrolling through google results on how to DIY it, try standing on your own. You’ll have to get used to it; you guess. Being a widow and all.

The attempts last about thirty minutes. Just in time for your front door to swing open, little feet hauling down the hallway, your son breathless and excited to tell you all about his trip to the park with John and Gaz. John follows right behind, trying to remind him about Phoenix’s naptime.

He pulls up short at the sight of you next to the sink, a pile of tools in the bowl.

“I uh… it’s clogged.” His lips twitch into a half smile. “I tried to fix it; I thought I should try. You know since…” You still have a wrench in your hand, but Orion is tugging at your shirt.

“Here,” he takes the wrench, touch casual as two fingers of his wrap around yours. It’s innocent. It’s nothing. But here he is, fixing your problems. Selflessly again, helping you out.

You’re not sure where you’d be right now if he wasn’t around-

At the thought, guilt so violent almost makes you double over.

Cami and Gaz host a spaghetti dinner, and you leave the house for the first time in weeks, months even. Time is a thief.

There’s laughter coming from the living room when you open the door, Orion sprinting from your side to where his uncles and aunt are hanging out. When you cross the threshold, Nix cooing in your arms and a loaf of banana bread in your free hand, the voices screech to a stop.

“Hi.” Your enthusiasm is lacking, but you’re trying. You really are, even though this is all you can give. Cami smiles excitedly as John stands and crosses the room.

“Let me help you with that.” He grabs the bread, warm hand briefly settling in the middle of your back before it disappears, taking the baby bag off your shoulder. You breathe him in, cigar smoke and pine. It’s calming, somehow. Familiar. “You okay?” He knows how hard this is. Knows how you tossed the decision back and forth, unsure, uncomfortable. You did it for Orion, in the end. You can’t deprive him of his community, so you nod silently.

Cami pulls you into her arms, putting her finger in Nix’s fist and pressing her cheek to yours. “I’m so glad you came.” You manage a weak smile.

“Me too, I… it’s good to see you. And everyone. Ry was really excited.” You look past her to where Soap has him in his arms, moaning and groaning about how they’re nearly the same size.

You take a deep breath.

You can do this.

They tiptoe around you all night. It should bother you, but it doesn’t. You’re not ready for anything else. For stories, for meaningful conversation. Everyone keeps it light. They veer away from work. They treat you with kid gloves.

It’s fine, but it’s exhausting, trying to keep yourself under control. Trying to quiet the ringing in your ears, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You almost manage it. But then someone slips up.

“- an’ that piece o’ shite. Simon was so pissed; I thought he was going to rearrange his face before he let him go.” Gaz laughs, you freeze. “He won in the end though, didn’t he? Always did, until-“

“Soap.” John cuts, and the table goes dead silent, as if they forgot. There’s a warm hand on your knee, but it’s not enough. Cami is shaking her head, blinking at him in horror, and Gaz glares. You stare down at a pile of peas.

“’m sorry,” Johnny whispers, stricken. “’m so sorry. I miss ‘im too, it helps… to talk about ‘im, ye know? I-“

“That’s enough.” John’s command is scathing.

You throw a quick excuse me over your shoulder as you make your way to the bathroom by the kitchen.

You try to breathe deep, but the oxygen doesn’t come as fast as you need it. You’re falling down the dern, despair filled hole that plagues your every waking hour. The reality you try to shove away, the fact that you’re here and he’s not.

Knuckles rap against the door. You undo the lock to come face to face with John, who steps inside and closes it behind him. You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, chest heaving. “Shhh,” he murmurs, pulling you close, “it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, tipping your face up.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Soap is oblivious sometimes.”

“It’s not up to me to tell people how to grieve.” He wraps you in a hug.

“It’s not, but he should treat you with respect.” You nod, drifting, trying to burn the words from your brain. You’re holding onto him. Clutching at his shirt, and he rubs a hand up and down your spine. It’s good. Warm, and comforting. You sink deeper, let him hold you, seeking solace. The strength you find in John.

You rest your cheek against his chest. “I’m so tired. I want to go home.” You whisper, and he smooths a hand over the back of your head.

“Okay. I’ll take you.” There’s another knock on the door, and you grimace.

It’s Cami. She has the baby on her hip, tears in her eyes. “I’m so-“

“It’s okay. Really. I’m just tired.” You’re lying, but you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. She knows anyway. You never should have come. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“I figured. I packed some food to go, and Gaz has Orion at the door.” Your best friend, always so kind, so thoughtful.

“Thanks, Cami. I love you.”

“I love you too. Text me when you get home, okay?” She passes Nix into your arms, following her with a hug, and you press your face to her shoulder before pulling away.

“I will.”

It’s been three days since the dinner, despondency settling back into your routine like it never left.

The kids help, John too. They keep you focused. They keep you alive.

“An’ cookie!” John smiles. It’s the lips quirked to the side one, the gleam in his eye one, combined with his standard issue work hair and beard, thick cable knit sweater stretched across the firm weight of his shoulders. It’s navy. Complements his eyes.

A flicker of heat burns in your stomach, between your legs, taking you by surprise.

You’re staring. You’re staring and he looks away from Orion, meeting your eyes, a question forming in them until you clear your throat and glance away, focusing on the baby in your arms and the last of her bottle before trying to get Orion prepared for the end of his night.

“Come on little man, finish your dessert so we can get your pajamas on.”

“U’cle John help me.” His arms cross against his chest, and you give him a reproachful look.

“What do we say when we want to ask someone to help?”

“Please.”

“Yes, please. Good job.”

“Please ‘cle John?” John glances your way, hesitant, and you shrug.

“Sure, bud. Once you’re finished.”

The kitchen gets the final wipe down when John slinks out of Orion’s room, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

“Nix go down?”

“Easily. She’s never fussy. Sleeps like a dream. Thanks for helping with him.” There is a glass on the coffee table, and a bottle of wine. You meant to have some earlier but got distracted. “I was going to have a glass of wine and watch something, want to stay and hang out for a bit?” You love your kids, but only having a baby and a toddler to talk to all the time can get old fast, no matter how much you love them.

His fingers brush yours when he takes the second glass from your hand, and you swallow. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you shiver.

The movie is two hours long, but forty-five minutes and two glasses of wine in, your head starts to feel heavy, and your eyelids grow lazy.

“- want to go to bed?”

“No,” you sigh. Your head is quiet, and you’re curled up against something warm, drifting in the sweet space between sleep and waking, low volume of the tv murmuring in the background. “Gonna stay here.” The blanket is tucked around your shoulders, and you snuggle deeper, sagging into the cushions. You’re almost there, just on the cusp when you jerk. “Baby monitor.” You mumble, and a whisper traces an arc from your temple to jawline, touch so featherlight it’s hard to know if it was ever there at all.

“Sleep, dove. I’ll be here.”

“We were going to have another baby you know. He wanted another one so badly. Kept trying to knock me up every time he was home.” The ice rattles in your glass, and you cast a long look at the half empty bottle between the two chairs you’re in on the porch.

“He told me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. Kept talkin’ about how you turned him into a caveman all the time.” You laugh. It’s real. A real laugh, something unbidden, releasing from your chest. John raises his eyebrows, and smiles.

“That’s how it was. He was always like that.” The stars are really bright tonight. They have been, ever since you buried him. You’re not sure if there’s less light pollution lately or if you’re just paying attention more. Sometimes you want to believe it’s something else entirely. If it’s a piece of him making them glow for you. Lighting up your sky. Wrapping you in a blanket of midnights, little collections of constellations in his arms. “They’re named after the stars, you know. The babies.”

“I know.” He sips his whiskey. “Orion the giant hunter, son of Poseidon, and Phoenix, rising from ash to be reborn.”

“Yeah.” You’re crying, again, and you wipe the tears away as quickly as you can.

“They’re beautiful names.” You don’t answer. There’s nothing to say, so the two of you sit there, side by side on the porch in silence until you break it.

“I’m angry at him. I’m so mad, he broke his promises. He broke all his promises and left me here. He left me.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose. He loved you so much.” You twist the ring on your left finger. It’s looser now, your inability to stomach most things starting to show. You wouldn’t have even noticed, or cared, unless John said something. ‘I promised I’d take care of you. That includes not letting you turn into a beanstalk.’

“He didn’t keep his promise.” There is the crux of it. All the promises made, only one kept. ‘Til death. Except he’s gone, and you’re still here.

Turning into a ghost.

“Can you hang out with the kids for a little bit tonight?” His brow pulls together, pinching in the middle, lines of his forehead wrinkling just bit, just enough to remind you of his age.

“Sure, everything okay?” Your eyes find your feet.

“I want to go to the cemetery.” His mouth opens, and whatever was going to come out of it disappears with his nod.

“Alright.”

You’re sick.

That’s the only way you can explain this, laying here on top of the plot, bottle of Kentucky bourbon in your hand. You’ve dumped some on the ground at the base of his stone, a toast of some kind, a sad, hopeless connection sitting one sided.

This is a special kind of agony. It’s the kind that wears you down. It makes you ill. It has you wishing you could dig up his coffin and crawl inside it. Sick. Rotting from the inside out.

“John’s kept his promise to you,” you manage another large swig, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “He’s always around. Helps with the kids a lot. Keeps us afloat. I guess he takes his pledges pretty seriously.” Another swig. This one leaks from the side of your lips. “I hate you, you know that? If you weren’t dead, I’d kill you myself. You weren’t supposed to leave us here. You were always supposed to come home. You promised.” You dig into the earth, dirt and grass compacting under your fingernails.

The night is dark and starless.

Figures.

You’d do anything to change this. Anything. You can’t carry it. You can’t bear it. It’s too heavy. Too much. For one moment, you’d like to not feel it, to not know the crushing weight of your grief. It follows your every waking minute. It follows you in your dreams.

When people die, there are always these fantastical stories floating around about their loved ones seeing a bird, or a cloud, or a rainbow. Some overwhelmingly positive sign leading them to believe the deceased is at peace.

It’s all bullshit.

There are no signs. There is no peace.

There’s only you, and the dead man you love in the ground.

It’s late when you make it home.

You probably shouldn’t have driven. It’s a short ride to and from the little graveyard on the hill, but you’re ashamed to have done it.

You know better.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” Your keys clang against the counter, forgotten as you turn to face him. The lie gives you pause. He knew you had come in. Simon never missed the sing of a door hinge, the latch of a window. You know they operate. How they function.

Still, you let it go. You don’t have the mental capacity to call him out.

He’s closer than you expected. Close enough you can smell him. It’s always the same, cigars and pine. Fresh needles fallen on the forest floor. He reminds you of it too in a way. The woods. Something about him, the way he fits into his sweater, the rough heels of his hands, like he’s felled a thousand trees and could go for a thousand more.

He’s got amber gold on the rocks in his hand, more whiskey. The ice has diluted it a bit, a thin watery film sitting on the bottom of the glass. You wrap your fingers around the rim and tip it to your lips. It burns. The clock ticks, the two of you breathe in and out. In and out.

“I can’t carry this.” You blurt, setting the glass down a little too hard. “I know you think I can… but I can’t. I’m drowning.”

“No one expects you to right now…” He’s talking, reassuring, supporting you, but there’s nothing except for his eyes. They’re the color of the ocean, the one you swam in the weekend Simon put the ring on your finger.

Your ears are ringing. Your blood is hot, the alcohol rewiring your brain until it conjures wild ideas about an escape. Maybe you don’t have to carry it, for a minute. Maybe you can close your eyes and share it with someone. Share it with him. Just for a minute.

“John.” You whisper, still focused on his eyes.

“What is it?” You twist your fingers in his sweater, dirt from under your fingernails getting caught in the wool, and he tenses, confused. “Hey, maybe-“ No maybes. You swing onto your toes and drag him downward, pressing your mouth to his in a rush. He grunts, but the kiss lingers until he pulls away. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You can’t place the look he gives you, mind too far gone. If you were sober, you’d say it was significant. He cups your cheek.

“Let’s sit down and-“

“No. John. Please. Help me carry it. Please.” Electricity crackles in the air, his hand sliding to your neck where he holds it firm with two fingers.

“We can’t. Shouldn’t. It’s just the grief, it’s-“

“Please.” You raise yourself back onto your toes, and though he’s dead still, he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t stop you as you kiss the corner of his mouth, beard brushing against your chin, and he doesn’t stop you when you find his lips again, parting your own, holding onto his shoulders.

He groans, hands drifting to your hips and digging into them, gripping you so tight, a pendulum swinging, pushing you away, pulling you back, until he gives in.

You’re kissing captain Price, for fucks sake. Your husband’s boss, his friend. One of the most important men in his life.

The betrayal burns.

This is wrong. So wrong, but there’s a wild piece of you that wants it. Likes it. The pieces that have taken solace in John have now turned to something else, something stronger, more vibrant.

It’s wrong. So wrong.

But in this moment, there’s nothing else but you and him and this decision. There’s no room for the other things that plague you.

It’s rough. You’re rough. He’s rough. You pin him against the kitchen counter, fumbling with his belt and zipper, sandpapered pads of his thumbs under your shirt and rolling over your nipples. You’re clumsy, disorientated, only saved when he spins you around and folds you over the cool surface. “Alright.” He murmurs like it’s just now kicked in what you’re doing, what’s happening in this moment, this sacrilege now staining you both. He kicks your feet wide, and rips your leggings to your ankles, tracing a line back up your thigh to shove his hand inside your panties and through your folds to push his finger inside you.

“Ah, John-” You hiss, arching your back, greedy for more, desperate for something, waiting and wanting, willingly going with him as he drags you to the floor, pushes you to your knees and bends you over, too big hand between your shoulder blades.

He fills you in a single stroke and you cry out, slapping a palm over your mouth to cover your scream, stifling the moans that follow. It’s a stretch, one that burns, too much and too soon, but this isn’t meant to be slow. It’s not a treasure, a sentimental unfolding of passion. It’s grief. It’s loss. It’s nothing like love. “Christ.” He grits, pinching your ass. “You’re bloody tight, sweet.” You can’t respond, your free hand digs against the hard wood, scrambling for something to hold onto as he shoves his cock against your cervix. You’re going to come unreasonably fast, already clamping down around him, tightening with the curl of your toes. “Be nice and quiet for me now, angel.” He pulls you up by your chest, mouth hot at your ear as he reaches for your clit, pinching the swollen nub and then smacking it with an open palm, your shriek barely muffled by your hand. He’s speaking, but you’re not quite catching it, too distracted by the blinding light on the outside of your vision, sparks blooming into fireworks. “Oh dove, you’re coming,” his mouth is on your cheek, kissing, nipping, and you turn to steel, vibrating with the strength of your orgasm, pathetic whines ghosting over his neck as your head tips back. He coos, brushes a hand over your forehead. It’s comforting, sick comfort for a sick girl. “Good girl, Shh, I know, I know it’s a lot.” The peak crashes, and you twitch, pulsing around him, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He comes all over you. Puts you back on all fours and curses under his breath, holding you steady, gripping your ass cheek so hard it will be tender tomorrow. The ocean rushes in your ears and you start to drift away, post orgasm, post fuck, sweaty and sated as he paints you.

“Fuck honey-“

I’ve got a lot of cum for you, honey

Tell daddy what you’re doing, honey

Can’t get over how good you taste, honey

Feel how bad I want to be inside you, honey?

The tip of the knife jams between your ribs. It penetrates your heart. It shreds organ and bone until the injury is so catastrophic, the only fix is death.

The noise you make is more animal than human.

Honey, honey, honey-

You flinch and crawl away panicked. He’s calling your name but you’re deaf to it, drowning in Simon’s voice.

Simon, your husband, who was the last man inside you. Simon who called you honey, and sweetheart, and mama. Simon, who’s body is cold in the ground. Who’s ring is on your finger.

Honey, honey, honey-

You stumble to your feet and make it to the sink just before the whiskey and bourbon comes shooting out of your mouth.

Sick.

“Promise me-“

“Shut up Simon. That’s an order.” He’s got her embroidered pocket square in his fingers, stained in blood, crimson dotting out the constellations. The radio crackles, but it only confirms what they both know.

Simon has minutes. They need at least twenty.

He shakes his head. John presses harder on his abdomen, pointedly ignoring the river of red spilling out beneath his palms. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much human bodies bleed. It’s not like he’s usually sticking around to watch.

“John.” Simon’s free hand latches onto the strap of John’s vest and jerks it roughly, pulling him closer. “You swear to me, right now. Do it.”

“I won’t. There’s still time. Stop talking, you need the oxygen.” His lips crack into a smile, gaze already starting to fall away, and then snaps to, refocusing.

“Tell her I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

“You’ll tell her yourself, Lieutenant.” He shakes his head, fist tightening over that little square, dragging to his heart, the organ beneath the vest that’s beating too slowly.

“John. Swear it. Promise me you’ll take care of her. You’ll take care of them.” There’s blood trickling down his jaw now, flowing from his lips. “She’s strong, but it’s gonna be hard. She’ll need you. The kids will need you. Nix is only a baby, she can’t-“ he coughs, shudders, and then his brow furrows with determination. “They can’t grow up without a dad.” John’s stomach, already an open pit, now rips into a black hole.

“You’re their dad, Simon. You are.” His voice cracks.

“Swear.”

“No.”

“Swear to me!” Simon shouts in his face, blood spraying on his cheeks. Gaz is yelling at them from twenty-five yards away, but it doesn’t matter. There’s not enough time.

They stare at each for seconds that are really eternity. They’ve been together in this hell, in this job, for so long. Suffered and slogged and killed together for so long. Simon isn’t just his team member, he’s a part of his life.

A rabid fucking dog brutalized and beaten down, now a husband, a father, a leader in his own right.

John pushes away the memory of the day he met Orion. The pride on Simon’s face. The pure joy.

He would never deny him.

They hold on to each other’s forearms. It’s goodbye.

“I swear it, Simon. I will take care of them. I promise. On my life.”

“And you’ll tell her I love her.”

“I will.”

He should have stopped you.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe it happened, but it’s not hard to remember. Not hard to remember how you felt, scorching velvet plush around his cock, not hard to remember the sounds you make when you come, how your pussy twitches. Not hard to remember how beautiful you were in his arms, shaking and crying, holding tight to him as he fucked you as deep as he could.

And it’s hard to forget the horror on your face. The way you crawled away like a wounded animal. The hoarse sobbing that came after the vomit in the sink. The way your knees gave out. The way you told him to get the fuck out.

Help me carry it.

It’s survivor’s guilt. It must be. Or trauma bonding. He’s been here for you, for the kids. He’s held you and wiped your tears and scooped you off the floor.

Because it’s his duty.

Right?

He can’t deny there’s something wrong with him, though. There’s something wrong with the way he barked at Soap during dinner, something wrong with the way he let you curl up beside him with your head on his stomach the night you fell asleep on the couch. He just sat there, stroked your cheek, rested his hand on his shoulder.

The guilt builds. It’s compounding, and fueling the anger, the rage directed at himself.

How dare he? How dare he betray Simon like this? How dare he try to take something that’s never been his?

He walks it like a tightrope. It’s his duty. It’s a betrayal.

Duty. Deceit. Duty. Betrayal. An oath. A line crossed, again and again.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do except crush and pulverize this thing trying to bloom. He rips out it by the roots.

Though he knows as well as any, determined things always find a way.

You don’t even look at him, and it gets under his skin. It feels wrong. Everything is wrong.

“Orion is almost ready.” You say over your shoulder, already moving away from him and down the hall, running but you’re not being chased. He’s supposed to take the lad fishing today. Orion has been looking forward to it all week, and you, quite frankly, don’t have the energy.

He catches you by the elbow and you jerk away, lips pressed together and eyes down. “Look at me.” You shake your head, glisten of tears catching in the early morning light streaming through the windows. He says your name, as softly as he can manage, and you tremble.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? Talk to me?” He’s pushing, and maybe he shouldn’t.

“Yes.” You hiss, venom twisting your face into a mask he’s never seen before. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk about what we did.” Your voice cracks on the last word, and it hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He wants to agree. He wants to wipe your face and tug you into his chest. He wants to bury the guilt ripping through him and turn around. Walk out the door.

He’ll do none of it. He’s a man of his word, above all else.

“When you’re ready then.” He nods as if it’s nonnegotiable, and then saved from a rebuttal when Orion runs full speed from his room. You turn on your heel and storm away.

Fine.

He’s at your door the next night for dinner.

You stand in the frame, arms crossed, anger etched into your face. “I don’t need your help tonight.”

“You going to make me a liar then?” He snaps, patience thin. The anger dissipates, and it’s replaced by that same despondent, dead look in your eyes that’s been making him sick since the day he came to the door. “Make me go back on my word to him?”

“John.” You whisper his name with shaking hands.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” There’s acid on the tip of his tongue. It’s stringent, bitter like the soap his mum washed his mouth out with. He doesn’t know why, but it stings. You look up at him, eyes so wide, so sad, so lost, he has to hold himself back from dragging you into his arms. “It didn’t mean anything, dove. It was just us. Just between us. Just grief.”

“Just grief.” You parrot, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes and down your temples. He brushes them away, and you surprise him by leaning into it. You smile weakly. “We’re having pasta bake.”

A few days later, and there are loads of laundry on your couch when he walks in. You throw him a desperate look, piles separated into toddler clothes, baby clothes and your own. They’re mountains, nearly at your chest when standing.

“Get a little behind?”

“I’ve been a little tired, I guess.”

“Can I help?” “Sure, want to fold onesies?” You laugh a little bit, enough to crack your lips into a small smile. He likes it. Likes your smile. It reminds him of the one you used to give Simon, the way it would break across your face, sunshine in a patch of clouds. He’d nuzzle your cheek, your neck, holding Orion on his hip with one arm, and you with another.

He stills, holding a small yellow piece of clothing.

Your husband. Simon was your husband.

And he’s the interloper.

Swear to me-

I swear it-

I will take care of them.

His ears ring with the bells of remorse, the song of at the beginning of a procession.

“John? You alright?” He’s been staring at you this entire time, but not seeing you, just seeing the past, seeing Simon, seeing everything that came before these moments where he’s being torn in two. He nods, not trusting his voice, his words.

“Will you be here for dinner tonight?” He usually is. It kills two birds with one stone. He makes sure you’re functioning; he makes sure you’re eating. It’s never been a question of you caring for the kids. The worry has been about you caring for yourself.

He can’t stomach sitting down for a meal with you and Orion today, so he lies. “I have to get home and get some work done.” You’re surprised, and then disappointed. He sees it so clearly and chooses not to dwell on it.

He can’t stay. He needs to work this out of his system.

You’re sad tonight.

Some days are really bad days, and then some of them are awful, like these. The ones where you move from bed to the couch, feeding and changing and dressing the kids on autopilot. He calls them your sad days, because he doesn’t want to call it what it is. Depressed days, despair days, you’ve given up days.

Some of the days are better, but these are the worst. It gets ugly at night, when the anxiety and fear becomes too much, when the loss crashes down too quickly.

The house is quiet, and you’re curled up in the middle of the bed under a heap of blankets, staring at the wall. You don’t acknowledge him when he opens the door or slips inside, you say nothing when he sits on the side of the bed. He lays a hand on your shoulder. You don’t react.

“Did you eat today?”

“A little.” He strokes your cheek, backs of his fingers gliding over soft skin, trying to rouse you a bit more, and you sigh.

“Kids go down alright?”

“Fine. Orion is upset he can’t sleep in our,” your face twists, “my bed anymore. But I placated him with too much ice cream.” You manage a smile then, and he matches it.

“That’s good. Nothing he won’t do for some chocolate yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small. “John?”

“What is it?”

“Do you think it will ever go away?” He smooths some baby hairs back from your forehead.

“I don’t know, angel. Eventually it will hurt less, I imagine. But the loss will always be there.” Your cheeks glisten in the dark, sliver of light shining through the crack in the door from the hallway.

“I’m glad you were with him.” He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he bleeds.

“I am too.” Your fingers curl around his.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The ache in his heart is back, doubling the beat, blood churning all the way to his toes. “Will you stay?” He shouldn’t, but he folds himself alongside where you’re under the blankets and tucks your head into his neck.

“Yes, dove. I’ll stay.”

The next time it happens is filled with rage.

You’re a wild animal, a wolf starved, teeth bared and snapping, claws out.

But you beg him for it. You plead. You demand.

It’s just us. Just grief. Take it from me. Why should I be the only one carrying this?

It’s wrong as he takes you on the bathroom floor, cold tile under his knees, warmth of your thighs bracketed at his waist. You dig your nails into his back hard enough to break skin, and he pins them back, his forehead knocked against yours, sharing breath. Sharing grief.

He breaks you down eventually, pushing his cock so deep you wail, holding you firm with a hand on your hip. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to betray him, doesn’t want to take his place in a home that could never be his.

Still. He can’t stop. He can’t help himself. He lives for your cries, the way you tighten around him when you come, how your eyes turn into bright stars at your peak.

It angers him. He’s always been a man of control.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, fuck, t’s not… it’s just-“ He snatches your jaw, and you look away.

“Look at me sweet. Look at me and tell this is just grief.” You can’t. You don’t. Instead, he shoves his hand between your legs and rubs your clit until you come.

When it’s over, you cry.

“Is this it?” He stares at Simon’s headstone. “Is this what you meant? Is this what I promised you?” Dead men don’t answer to anyone, ghosts don’t provide explanations. John replays those last moments in his mind, burning Simon’s face into his memory so he never forgets, so he never gets confused. He’s in another man’s place, a father and a husband’s place.

It’s been days since he’s seen you. Cami visits in his stead, which is good for you, better. You need a friend now, not him. Not whatever this is. Not whatever he’s done to you or vice versa.

He claps a hand on top of the stone, the same way he’d do it to Simon’s shoulder.

“I promised on my life, but I didn’t promise this.”

You haven’t seen or heard from John in nearly a month.

It didn’t bother you at first since they were gone for work, but when Gaz opened the front door to greet you two weeks ago, you were surprised.

They’re back and he didn’t reach out.

Why?

You miss him. It’s a shameful revelation, and a surprising one.

So much for the mourning widow.

“Mama, i’cream?” Orion is huddled between your legs, tugging on your jeans while you bounce Phoenix, trying to get her to settle before bed.

“No ice cream tonight baby.” His eyes well with tears, and the guilt hits you. Be strong. Don’t give in, you’re spoiling him too much.

“Let’s go get in bed and I’ll read to you, okay?”

“No! I’cream!” Your face crumples.

“Orion, please. I already said no. Now can you help mama and go get in your bed?” He flings his hands at your thighs, little face twisted up with rage.

Normally, you’re well equipped for the tantrums. It’s part of having a toddler, but tonight, it’s breaking your back. Wearing you down. You’re about to walk away, create some space, take a deep breath when the doorbell rings.

Literally saved by the bell.

Orion’s already running down the hall, bouncing on his toes as you open the door to see John on the other side. Weary. Weathered. “U’cle John!”

“Hey, bud.” He locks eyes with you, standing on the threshold, meeting your eyes unflinchingly. “Need some help?” You swallow.

“Come in, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your mouth is on his, or his on yours, you’re not sure how it started. All you know is his arms are warm, and strong, and a safety net at the bottom of your life now, waiting outstretched for when you lose your balance on the tightrope.

“I know.” He does that thing where he cradles your face, stares into your eyes like he’s seeing an entire universe, one he’s never been to, a planet undiscovered, stars recently born and exploded across a night sky. “I know sweet, but- I can’t-“ It’s why he stayed away, he confessed earlier. Why he disappeared. It wasn’t fair, he knew that.

The guilt is crushing him. It’s crushing you.

“What’re we doing then?” It’s not right, whatever this is.

But his body pressed against yours, his arms holding you tight, it’s impossible to run from. Hard to hide.

It’s not just grief anymore. A hydra with a head cut off, two more born again from the wound. It's a flower blooming in a forest of ash, life finding a through the gash of a wildfire. A small, tiny, flame, desperate to burn.

“Just kiss me,” you breathe, mouths now millimeters away from one another. His chest heaves beneath your fingertips. “Just kiss me, John.”

“Daddy.” Orion pats his hand on the stone, little fingers digging into the engraving.

Husband. Father.

Your thumb finds the sapphire, rubbing the stone it in practiced circles, and Phoenix coos beside you, half buried beneath the wool of John’s jacket. “Ready to go home, little man?” You’re crouched behind him, holding him, kissing his cheek. This is a weekly tradition, the visit, and even in the dead of winter when it’s too cold for the kids, you never miss it.

Your commitment never wavers, your gold band a mirror to the one buried beneath your feet, an eternal tie to your husband.

‘Til Death.

You will never not be Simon’s wife, the mother of his children, his moon. You will never marry again. You will never have another child.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for a sunrise, a dawn, a new promise. An oath to John, though never formal or official in the eyes of the law, but true all the same.

The sun. The stars. The moon.

“Alright, we ready?” You press another kiss to your son’s face before scooping him up, taking one last look before nuzzling Orion’s face. “See you next week, Si.”

John lingers for a moment, a hand curled over the stone, fingers flexing into a squeeze. His eyes are distant, a world away, tangled up in the past for a long moment.

“Hey,” you call softly, extending a hand. “let’s go home.”

#peaches writes #price x reader #fix you by Coldplay #john price #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #through me (the flood)#captain price x reader

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redtsundere-writes · 7 months ago

Note

We need sukuna brutally murdering another servant because they put reader in a bad mood. ITS NOT A WANT ITS A NEED PLEASE

Blood Bath | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: The king needs to wash himself after defending his favorite servant. Contents: king x servant, kinda fluffy I guess, murder, a bit of humiliation, nudity. Word count: 2255 words. Author's note: Thanks for the request, anon! I was already writing this fic when I received your message, so it was a great add-in! Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

AO3/WATTPAD VERSION

Sukuna left the castle a week ago. He set out for distant lands to conquer villages, eat its people and spread the terror on his behalf. The absence of his presence was noticeable in the magnificent palace. Peace reigned in the spotless marble hallways, the quiet kitchen and the solitary great hall. Despite not having the pressure of everything being perfect, the servants were making sure the castle would shine for the king's return. The servants walked around at their leisure, pretending they owned the place. They ate at whatever time they wanted, lay down to rest on the lawn of the parade ground, and talked loudly about the rumors that have been surfacing about your relationship with the king.

Recently, it had come to your attention that you were Sukuna's favorite servant, but no one knew exactly why. The consensus had concluded that it was because you were his mistress. Sukuna used to lock himself in his room with you for hours at a time and always came out with a broad smile. The truth is that you didn't sleep with him, you just gave him massages, fixed his outfits and sometimes talked for hours. You tried several times to clear up the rumors, but no one believed you.

It was a rainy summer afternoon. You and a small group of servants were cleaning the great hall, the largest room in the castle. Surrounded by white concrete columns that rose to the ceiling, you sternly swept the red carpet that indicated the center. Diamond chandeliers softly lit the place, statues of the king stood tall and the beautiful hand-painted mural raised on the ceiling harmonized the entire room. The drops fell softly against the giant window in which the green outside could be admired.

“When do you think our king will return?” One servant asked the other as they cleaned the decorative torches that rested on steel bases around the perimeter.

“He won't be long, he has to come back to his mistress,” the other one joked. They both let out small, annoying laughs.

Those kinds of comments had become more recurrent as the days went by. You knew they did it on purpose. They raised their voices every time you entered the room or when you were about to go to sleep. None of the other servants seemed to want to intrude to keep what little peace they had. You slammed the broom down on the carpet hard to take out your frustration.

“How disgusting to be that monster's mistress, don't you think?” the other one asked. You could feel her piercing gaze on the back of your head, waiting for you to react to her uncalled-for comment.

“I know! I don't know how she can sleep with someone as creepy as our king,” she replied with disgust in her voice.

Those two had crossed the line. You firmly grabbed the broomstick to confront them about their lousy topic of conversation. You approached them at a steady pace, dragging the broomstick in case you needed it as a weapon to defend yours and your king’s honor.

“That's enough!” you scolded. “I don't sleep with our king! Besides, he may be a monster, but thanks to him, we can eat fresh food, sleep in comfortable beds and live in a magnificent palace! If I were you, I'd stop barking, bitches!” You exploded after such a long time of having to put up with their out-of-place comments.

“Shut up! You're only defending him because you're his favorite whore!” One of them exclaimed, throwing the feather duster in her face.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, who-!”

A fine cut echoed throughout the great hall. A large splash of blood fell on your face, blinding you for a couple of seconds. The slight gasp of surprise from the other servants left you speechless. You dropped the broom to scrub your eyes. What had happened? You backed up in desperation until you ran into a wall that wasn't there before. After a crack, it all made sense. You looked up to see Sukuna's sharp jaw. Dried blood tainted his skin, his breath was cut short from exhaustion. He was back home after conquering another empire successfully.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Sukuna asked the other servants, who were kneeling before him, giving him a warm welcome.

You knew you should kneel, but seeing the lifeless bodies of what used to be your gossiping companions made your body freeze. Their heads had been cut in half and the rest of their bodies were shattered. What used to be two women were now small pools of blood and bones. Sukuna had erased their existence with just a couple of his fingers. It was a scene you never thought your eyes would see in the flesh. That would be your fate if you did not obey your master's orders.

“This is a reminder that I can get rid of you just as quickly,” he threatened. His thick voice echoed off the walls. “If I hear that you even dare to speak blasphemies about me or one of your companions, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?” The servants, still kneeling, said, “Yes, my king,” in unison.

Coming out of your state of shock, you turned around to kneel at his feet. Sukuna looked at your small figure compared to him. He had heard how you had defended his honor in the face of annoying accusations. He knew you were a good servant, but now you had proven to him that you were loyal.

“Welcome home, my king,” you greeted in a trembling voice. Your body was still processing the murder your eyes had witnessed.

“Draw me a bath,” he ordered, brushing past your greeting.

“Yes, my king.”

You ran as fast as possible to his room to get there before him. Luckily, you had cleaned the bathroom thoroughly the day before, so everything was ready for the king to relax properly. You turned on the faucet to fill the tub with hot water, sprinkled scented bath salts, filled the water with bubbles and lit a few candles to romance the atmosphere. Sukuna soon arrived. Without a word, he began to undress as usual. Obediently, you stood in front of the wall to give her privacy.

“Since when?” He asked you as he untied the knots of his garments and let them fall to the floor. You could only hear the fabric sliding down his Herculean body.

“I don't understand the question, my king,” you answered confused, looking at the wall full of green tiles.

“How long have they been bothering you?” Sukuna completed the question while analyzing your figure from behind. He could tell you were nervous in his presence. It was the first time you saw him kill someone, it must have made quite an impression on you.

“Since a couple of months ago,” you answered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sukuna entered the bathtub, which was already bubbling. You closed the bath faucet and approached a stool to begin the most complicated task, washing his hair.

“I didn't want to waste your time.” You prepared the utensils: a sponge, a small wooden bowl and glass bottles filled with the hair products.

“You don't dictate what I do with my time,” he replied sternly.

Sukuna stepped into the tub so you could easily reach his head, drowning his torso into the soapy water. With the help of a soft sponge, you wet his pale pink hair, taking care that the water did not enter his ears. The king closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the pleasant sensation after a week of consecutive massacres. Untangling his short hair with a wooden comb, avoiding pulling too much so as not to hurt him. You placed the shampoo directly on his head and massaged the product into the roots.

Sukuna hummed happily every time your fingers gently stroked his scalp. You were so gentle with him even though he was the worst monster ever. You scratched, stroked and massaged his skull to your heart's content. While you let the product work, you focused on his broad shoulders. Your hands roamed his upper body calmly and patiently. The king was tired from having fought day after day and night after night to leave his name high as the greatest conqueror, you could tell by how tense his skin was.

“Answer me a question,” Sukuna asked with his eyes closed.

“As many as you wish, my king.”

“Are you loyal to me because you are afraid of me or because I am powerful?” He asked firmly.

“Both. I am afraid of you because you are powerful,” you replied as you took the bowl of water to rinse his hair.

Sukuna smiled in satisfaction with your answer. That's why you were his favorite servant. You are a perfectionist, shrewd and perceptive. You always managed to surprise him in a different way every time. Something no woman had ever managed to do before. Sukuna twisted his torso to face you. Your face and your white clothes were inked with the blood of your companions. He couldn't let you work like that, after all, it's his fault you were stained.

“Take off your clothes and come in,” he ordered.

“What?” You asked, shocked.

“You're dirty. Come in. I won't repeat myself,” Sukuna demanded.

You nodded and started to undress before his eyes. He had seen hundreds of women undress before. He knows what a pair of striking breasts, sexy hips and long legs look like, but even so, he was mesmerized as he watched you unfold before his eyes. Each garment slid down your body delicately, your hairs bristled from the change in temperature and your nipples stood erect at the lustfulness. No one but your mother had ever seen you naked. You had never been with a man, let alone a monster as imposing as he was.

Sukuna held out his hand to help you into the large tub. You sat in front of him and covered your breasts with the glistening bubbles that floated around you. He took one of the sponges and soaked it with soap to gently clean your face. The now dried blood came off easily. His black claws sometimes scratched your cheeks, but you could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible with your beautiful face.

“It's not necessary, I can do it myself,” you asked, trying to take the sponge from him.

“I can wash my own hair too, but I prefer you to do it. Let me do it,” he replied before filling the bowl with water and wetting your hair.

He repeats the same process as you. The warm water, the closeness of your bodies and his hands taking care of your hair, transported you to fantasies where you had a relationship beyond king-servant. They were romantic ideas of a Sukuna you didn't quite know. A Sukuna who hugged you every time he saw you, who gave you head pats every time you did something right, and who sat you on his wide lap, demanding attention.

Someone knocked on the door, to which Sukuna allowed access. It was Uraume, who had just heard that the king had returned and what had happened with the reckless maids. What they did not expect was to see you in the bathtub next to his majesty, but even so, they decided not to ask details of how they had come to that situation.

“Welcome home, your majesty.” Uraume bowed from the doorway. “Dinner is ready. You must be hungry after the long journey.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” Sukuna answered. Uraume bowed again and left the room.

“They won't say anything,” Sukuna assured you before getting out of the tub. You were about to get out to give him his towel too, but he stopped you. “The water is still hot, it would be a shame to waste it,” he said before taking the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“It's my job to do it,” you said.

“Your job is to obey me,” he dictated seriously. You sat back down in the tub and nodded. “Good girl,” he said with a satisfied smile before leaving the bathroom.

Sukuna returned to the bathroom and looked in his closet for what he would wear to dinner. He glanced into the bathroom from time to time to observe you. A small naked human wrapped in the ethereal steam of her innocence. He could have any woman in the world. Why was his mind obsessed with your beauty, your words, and your docility? He didn't know exactly, but he was sure you were completely his, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

You stood alone with your thoughts in the elegant bath. You plunged your body into the water, submerging your head in the bubbles. Heads cut in half, his big hands stroking your hair, brains strewn across the carpet, his gentle touch as he washed your face. The quick, deep images made you feel confused. Your head went back up to the surface as you realized you were short of breath. You brushed your wet hair back to take a deep breath. What were you doing? Where were you? What kind of person were you serving? Sukuna confused you with his actions, and now you didn't know what to do with your poor heart beating a mile a minute for him.

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d-z20 · 7 days ago

Text

The Agent Next Door part 2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You've not seen Rio since you moved back into your apartment, but a prank leads to you two going on a proper date which ends well. Very well indeed. -OR- You guys go on a date and end up fucking all night because you've missed each other so much

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fingering (R & Rio recv), strap on (R recv), oral (Rio recv), switch Rio & reader

Words: 2.4k

A/N: The voice of the people asked for smut, so smut you shall receive. I've kept it light for this part to establish more of a relationship and then there's a darker theme in the next part.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3 | Master List

Fire Drills and First Dates

The days after staying with Rio feel oddly quiet. You’re back in your own apartment, and though everything is fixed now—the door, the shower—you find yourself missing her presence. You hadn’t realised how much you’d grown used to having her around—her sharp wit, her teasing smiles. You’ve only exchanged a few texts since she’s gone back to work, and each one leaves you wanting more. It’s silly, you think, how you’re craving her company. It’s not like you’re avoiding her, but you haven’t had a proper excuse to run into her yet, either.

That is, until one evening when you’re lounging in your pyjamas—an old, baggy tee and some basketball shorts—when the shrill sound of the fire alarm pierces the air. You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling to grab your phone, keys, and—out of pure panic—a spatula that was on the counter. You bolt for the door, clutching it like it might somehow help.

The hallway is already filled with a few confused neighbours milling about, but it’s Rio you nearly crash straight into.

She’s in a sports bra and shorts, hair mussed like she’s just rolled out of bed. “Well, well,” she says, her grin wide and teasing as she eyes you up and down. “Didn’t realise we were dressing for the apocalypse.”

You look down at yourself, realising just how ridiculous you must look in your mismatched, oversized tee, clutching a spatula like a weapon. "Oh, so you're a fashion critic now too, are you?” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “And in case of emergency pancake flipping, I’m clearly prepared.”

Rio laughs, the sound echoing down the hallway. “Pancake flipping? Were you planning to defend us from the fire with that?”

“Hey, you never know,” you retort, waving the spatula in the air. “Could be a very specific kind of fire.”

Before you can respond further, the building manager appears, looking exasperated. “False alarm, folks. Some kids pulled it as a prank.”

Rio gives you a sidelong glance, smirking. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say with mock seriousness. “I risked life and limb to look like this.”

She snorts, shaking her head as she turns to you, stepping closer. “You know, we haven’t actually spent time together since you moved back into your place,” she says, her voice softer now, a hint of something else in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. “Was that your way of asking me out, or...”

She huffs a laugh, reaching out to tug lightly at the hem of your tee. “How about we go on a real date, then? Somewhere that doesn’t involve fire alarms or broken doors.”

You grin. “I’d like that.”

—

You meet at a small bar a few nights later, dressed up for once, but there’s still an easy, casual air between you. The place is cozy, with dim lighting and an impressive drink menu. Rio’s leaning against the bar when you walk in, looking effortlessly stunning in a tailored black suit with a sleek blazer and matching trousers. Her hair is neatly styled back, accentuating the sharp lines of her outfit. The deep neckline and confident stance make her presence magnetic, and you can’t help but stare. Her eyes light up when she sees you, extending her arms to embrace you in a quick hug.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite neighbour,” she greets, flashing a smile. “You clean up nicely.”

You had chosen a soft, striped blouse paired with wide-leg pants that cinch perfectly at your waist. The relaxed fit feels comfortable yet polished, and the delicate necklace at your collarbone, paired with a few understated rings, brings a subtle touch of elegance. You catch Rio’s approving gaze as she takes in your look, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Thanks,” you say, sliding onto the stool next to her. “Figured I should leave the spatula at home this time.”

She laughs, leaning in a little closer. “Probably a wise choice.”

The date flows effortlessly. You banter back and forth, teasing and flirting like it’s second nature. You tell her the story of your worst first date, and she counters with a tale about a stakeout that went horribly wrong, involving a coffee spill and a suspect with an unfortunate penchant for karaoke.

At one point, she leans in, lowering her voice. “You know, I was worried we’d have one of those awkward first dates where we run out of things to talk about.”

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “Rio, you broke into my apartment and saw me half-naked. I think we’re past awkward.”

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling as she reaches across the table, taking your hand. “Fair point.”

The night ends with you walking back to her place, the conversation never once faltering. The city lights cast a soft glow over everything, and when you reach her door, she pauses, turning to face you fully.

“So,” she says, her tone a little lower, more serious. “Do I get to kiss you goodnight, or would that be too forward?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Well, you did promise me a real date. I think that earns you a real kiss.”

The moment her lips meet yours, it’s like everything else fades away. She pulls you closer, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. It’s soft at first, but then she deepens it, her tongue teasing against yours in a way that has you breathless. She presses you back against her door, and you can feel her smile against your lips when you let out a soft, involuntary moan.

“Since you left, all I’ve been able to think about was doing this again,” she murmurs, her voice rough and low, filled with that same intense need that always leaves you breathless.

You smirk, pressing closer, letting your fingers trace the line of her jaw. “Oh, I noticed,” you tease, your own voice coming out softer, more vulnerable than you intended.

Rio’s response is a low throaty chuckle that turns into a deep, searing kiss. It’s urgent this time, no hesitation, like she’s trying to make up for every second you weren’t together. Her hands are already tugging at your shirt, her touch firm and possessive. You don’t waste any time either, and start undoing her blazer, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you.

The two of you stumble back into her apartment, her hands never leaving your body as she guides you through the door. You push her up against the wall first, fingers threading into her dark hair, tugging slightly. She groans against your mouth, and you can feel her grin as you take control, sucking at her lower lip before trailing kisses down her neck.

"Bedroom, now," you whisper against her skin, and she doesn’t argue, practically dragging you to the bed.

The second you reach the mattress, she spins you around, pushing you down firmly before climbing on top. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as she looks down at you. "I love it when you try to take control," she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement as she straddles your hips, her hands sliding under your shirt.

You arch up, letting her peel the fabric away, but before she can continue, you flip her over, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, a glint of delight flashing in her eyes. “Oh, taking charge now, are we?” she taunts.

You lean down, nipping at her jaw. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” she breathes, her voice catching as you kiss your way down her neck. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you grind against her, both of you groaning at the sensation.

It’s not long before she reverses the position, pinning you to the bed with a smirk. “My turn,” she says simply, and her mouth is on you again, hot and insistent as her hands slide lower, making quick work of your pants.

You lose track of time, caught in a fevered rhythm of give and take. It’s heated and frenzied, the two of you constantly switching who’s in control, neither willing to yield completely. Her hands roam your body with a knowing touch, exploring every curve like she’s memorising you all over again. You respond in kind, your fingers gripping her hips, nails digging in just enough to leave a mark.

She pushes you back against the mattress, pinning you there with a smirk that turns into a hungry kiss. You gasp into her mouth as her fingers slip lower, finding you already wet and wanting. The first touch makes you arch up into her, a strangled moan escaping your lips. Rio takes her time, working you with slow, deliberate strokes until you’re trembling beneath her. She watches you with hooded eyes, clearly enjoying the way you fall apart under her touch.

But you don’t let her stay in control for long. With a quick movement, you roll her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, your lips trailing down the line of her throat, sucking at the delicate skin. Her breath hitches when you move lower, slipping your hand beneath the open blazer to reveal the smooth expanse of her stomach. You kiss your way down, taking your time until you reach the waistband of her pants. Her hips lift, silently begging, but you pause, teasing her just like she teased you.

“Patience,” you whisper against her skin, loving the way her eyes darken with desire. You take your time, fingers tracing the waistband slowly before unfastening her pants with deliberate slowness. You tug them down inch by inch, letting your knuckles brush against her thighs, teasing her as her breath catches in anticipation.

You gaze down at her, taking in the sight of her matching green lingerie. “Did you put this on just for me?.” You ask, pulling the thin strip of fabric covering her pussy to the side, making sure your knuckles brush over her clit as you do. You bite your lip at the sight of just how wet she was, letting out a low moan as you try to compose yourself.

When you finally take her in your mouth, her reaction is immediate—a deep, guttural moan that sends a shiver down your spine. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you work her over, the taste of her intoxicating. She comes undone beneath you, her entire body tensing, back arching off the bed as she gasps your name.

You barely get a moment to catch your breath before she flips you over again, her mouth crashing down on yours in a heated kiss. She slips her hand between your thighs, her fingers finding your most sensitive spot and circling there with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure builds quickly, leaving you breathless, moaning into her mouth as she brings you to the edge and then pushes you over.

“Fuck, Rio,” you cry out, your whole body shaking as you come apart, clinging to her.

She grins, looking utterly smug, as she kisses you again, this time slower, more intimate. “I could do this all night,” she murmurs, and you believe her.

It’s a cycle of heated kisses, whispered praises, and a desperate need to touch and taste each other. You take turns pinning each other down, exploring every inch of skin like it’s the first time, making good on every unspoken promise from the last time you were together. The bed creaks beneath your movements, sheets twisted and tangled around your bodies.

At one point, you find yourself straddling her hips, guiding her hands to your waist as you rock against her strap. She looks up at you like you’re the only thing she wants in the world, and the intensity of it makes you falter for a second. But she steadies you with a firm grip, thrusting up against you, making you cry out as you ride the waves of pleasure.

You both end up tangled in the sheets, panting and laughing in between gasps and moans. You soon find yourself on top of her again, pressing kisses down her chest whilst you curl your fingers inside her, your name falling from her lips in a way that makes your heart stutter. It’s messy and passionate, filled with half-formed words and needy whispers, other fantasies from your mind playing out in real-time, surpassing even your most vivid daydreams.

By the time you collapse beside each other, the room is filled with the smell of sweat and sex, and the only sound is your ragged breathing. She pulls you into her arms, still catching her breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You good?” she asks, her voice soft now, almost tender.

You nod, curling into her side, feeling the beat of her heart beneath your palm. “Yeah,” you murmur, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Better than good.”

She laughs quietly, pulling the covers up over both of you. “I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart. Why don’t you get some sleep now, hmm?” she says, her fingers tracing circles on your back.

You don’t argue, letting your eyes flutter shut as you sink into her warmth, feeling more at home than ever.

—

The next morning is slow and blissful. You wake up tangled together, her arm draped lazily over your waist. When you stir, she presses a kiss to your shoulder, mumbling a sleepy “Morning, sweetheart,” that makes your chest flutter all over again.

You smile, turning over to face her. “Morning. Did I keep you up last night?”

She smirks, eyes still half-closed. “Worth it.”

You both spend a while just lying there, talking about nothing and everything. Eventually, you get up, pulling on one of her shirts that’s much too big for you, and pad into the kitchen together to make breakfast.

It’s domestic in a way that surprises you—easy and comforting. You’re cooking pancakes while she makes coffee, the two of you moving around each other like you’ve done this a hundred times before. When she hands you a mug and leans down to steal a kiss, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“Brunch at home,” she says, raising her mug in a toast. “The best kind of date.”

You clink your mug against hers. “Here’s to many more, then.”

Rio grins, pulling you in for another kiss. “You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, you know.”

And for the first time, that thought doesn’t scare you at all.

remember to like and reblog if you enjoyed <3

Part 3

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slut4thebroken · 2 months ago

Text

Claiming Victory

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Scarecrow x vigilante!reader

Summary | An encounter with the infamous Scarecrow doesn’t go the way you expected.

Warnings | non con, smut, dry humping, degradation, rape threats (mentioned once), dacryphilia, fear toxin, groping, idk lol.

Words | 1.6 k

Notes | Lmaooo I almost didn’t think I was going to finish this by October 1st 🙈

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 1: dry humping

He stalked toward you slowly, savoring the sight of you screaming and staggering away from him, barely able to keep yourself on your feet. He ached to know what you were seeing, but just watching you like this was enough to satisfy him for now. When you tripped over your own feet and landed on your butt, he stopped and stared down at you through the mask, watching as you still tried to get away from him. Though now you were looking around yourself too, not just at him. With a sigh, he quickly walked forward, then nudged you onto your back with his foot and straddled your thighs, keeping you pinned in place.

“It’s disappointing how easily you break.” He said calmly. You didn’t respond, as he expected, but when your screams turned into violent sobs, he sighed again. “I thought you’d have more fight in you.” His hand shot out to grab your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He smiled when you brought your hands up to claw at his arm, trying to pull it away.

“Should I see what the rest of this pretty face looks like?” He smirked, using his other hand to trace over the edge of your mask near your temple. Leaning down over you, he watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hide from whatever beautiful horrors you were being forced to see. But that only seemed to make things worse. Your crying intensified, echoing throughout the empty building, and you started writhing, trying to find an escape.

When your hips bucked, he had to move his hand from your mask to the floor to stabilize himself. He let out a sharp breath as he remained leaning over you, the position making it easier for you to rub against his growing bulge.

Tears streamed down your face and you started mumbling incoherent pleas. His hand moved from your face to your neck and he squeezed tightly— based on your reaction, his toxin must have made this action seem far worse than it actually was.

He tilted his head as he watched you with morbid fascination. You looked so beautiful like this.

Your hands started clawing at his face now, trying to push him away or hurt him enough to make him get off of you, but he just huffed and put both of your arms by your sides, under his legs. He leaned back over you and started subtly rocking his hips.

“Isn’t it so much better when you don’t fight?” He cooed, his voice sounding far from comforting. “Always trying to be so strong… so brave.” He hummed thoughtfully as he placed a firm hand on your waist.

“You think you’re untouchable, that no one could ever possibly beat you…” Slowly dragging his hand up your side, he watched your reaction carefully and continued, “Yet here you are... wearing this skin tight suit,” his hand finally reached your breast and he squeezed roughly, making you cry harder, “pinned down by little ol’ me… and not untouchable at all.” He smirked, groping you even harder as his hips sped up.

“How about we see what we’re working with?” He asked rhetorically. You barely reacted when he grabbed the zipper at the base of your neck, slowly pulling it down to your navel. “Oh wow…” He grinned, pushing your suit open to expose your bra. “Let's get this out of the way though.” Grabbing the middle of your bra, he tore it in half easily, then pushed it open so he was finally able to see you. He couldn’t help the low groan that slipped out.

“Look at you.” He cooed, placing his hands on your stomach and snaking them up until he could grab your tits. You sobbed louder, but your voice was becoming hoarse from all of the screaming and crying. “Do all of the villains you fight get to pin you down and grope you? Or am I just special.” He chuckled, knowing it was the latter.

You started thrashing under him again, trying to escape him or whatever you were seeing. He removed his hands and smirked when he watched the way your tits moved.

“You can fight a little harder… Come on.” He encouraged teasingly. When your body kept writhing and your hips kept bucking, he cursed under his breath, savoring the feeling of you rubbing against his bulge. “That’s it. Fight a little harder and maybe you’ll actually do some damage.” He laughed quietly.

After another moment, he reached for your tits again, but focused on your nipples this time. You cried loudly when he pinched and pulled, rolling them between his fingers in a way that wouldn’t feel good even if his toxin wasn’t in your system. Based on your screams, he knew he was doing a good job, but you were starting to get just a little too loud for his liking.

He paused and leaned back up, then quickly removed his tie. Your cry was cut off by him shoving the fabric in your mouth, effectively muffling your sounds. He didn’t bother tying it around your head since you weren’t cognizant enough to even realize what was actually happening.

“That’s a good girl. Keep crying for me, but stay nice and quiet.” He cooed as he leaned back over you again, hovering a few inches above your face. His hips started rocking again, but his movements were faster and more eager. Moving his hands back to your tits, he resumed groping you, making you whine.

“You like this, don’t you?” He chuckled, carefully studying your expression. “Finally getting put in your place… being humped and groped on the floor, the way a little whore deserves.” All you could do was cry— your body was barely even struggling underneath him now, just squirming weakly.

“You know, I think I deserve a reward for being the first villain to actually vanquish you.” He said with a cruel smirk, reaching for your mask again. You didn’t even react when he slowly removed it from your face. “Oh, look at you…” He cooed, studying your face intently. He already knew you were beautiful, but seeing your entire face… it was even better than he thought. His gaze shifted between your eyes and your lips hungrily, getting worked up by the feeling of you squirming under him and the sound of your pitiful sobs. Then he shifted his focus down to your neck. At the sight of your smooth skin, completely untouched and untainted… he growled low in his throat and quickly removed his mask.

“I think I’ll leave you with some reminders of what happened tonight...” He said, sounding almost smug, then leaned down to start kissing your neck. His hips were still rutting incessantly and he savored your muffled whimpers and cries as he sucked the skin into his mouth, leaving as many marks as he could.

His cock was practically throbbing in his pants by now, begging to be released, but he kept his focus on you. He trailed kisses down your chest, still covering your pretty skin with evidence of his assault, then took your nipple in his mouth. You let out a muffled sob that turned into a scream when he suddenly bit down on the hardened bud. He chuckled softly against you and kissed his way across your chest to give your other nipple the same treatment.

Your thrashing had died down significantly, as had your sounds. Now you were mostly just sobbing weakly and the sound was enough to send him barrelling toward his orgasm. He moved up so his lips brushed your ear, his hips still humping you frantically. “Next time I’m going to fuck you.” He whispered, moaning quietly at the thought. “Sorry… rape you.” He chuckled, not really knowing or caring if you were able to hear his promise with his toxin still in your system.

Jonathan leaned back so he was hovering over your face and took a moment to admire you. There was a light sheen of sweat on your forehead, your brows were scrunched together and your eyes squeezed tight. The tear tracks covering your cheeks were what finally sent him over the edge.

Feeling his balls tighten up, he quickly lifted himself back up to open his pants and take out his cock. He shuffled forward over your body a little and stroked his length rapidly, then hot come was landing on your chest, covering your tits and even getting on your suit. He yanked his tie out of your mouth and moved up a little more to get the last few ropes of come on your face.

With a satisfied grunt, he sat back on your stomach and caught his breath, listening to your hoarse, broken sobs as you thrashed under him, probably having a hard time breathing under his weight. He sighed and reached for your neck, squeezing as hard as he could while pushing on your windpipe. Your mouth opened and you were gasping for air, desperately trying to take in oxygen as your thrashing increased tenfold until finally it all stopped and you went limp beneath him.

While you were knocked out, he tucked his cock back in his pants, then put his mask back on and pocketed his tie that was slightly damp with your saliva. He left your suit unzipped and your mask on the ground, satisfied that you’d know, or at least have an idea of exactly what he did. Then he got up and walked out, leaving you in the abandoned warehouse.

He considered taking you, after all, he deserved a trophy for being the first villain to ever conquer you… But the chase was the best part, so he let you continue to roam free for now, building up anticipation for the next time you’d encounter him.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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venusbyline · 16 days ago

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Birthday ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 19, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x sex worker!reader x Derek Morgan x Aaron Hotchner

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: foursome FMMM

— summary: Morgan hires a prostitute to her finally take his best friend's virginity.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 19th day, female!reader, virgin!Reid, shy!Reid, foursome (female/male/male/male), oral (male receiving), loss of virginity, praise kink, cowgirl position, handjob (male giving), Moreid, age gap (older men/older woman/younger man), birthday present, prostitution, drunk sex, rough kissing, orgy, corruption kink, implied/referenced cheating, infidelity, light overstimulation, breast worship, butt worship, nipple play, minor Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner, bisexual(?)!Reid, bisexual!Morgan, married!Hotch, Lila Archer Mentioned, minor Spencer Reid x Lila Archer, ambiguous/open ending, curse words, sub!Reid, dom!Morgan, dom!Hotch, switch!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"You're gonna love your birthday present, Pretty Boy."

That's what Morgan said to Spencer after his birthday party. He was finally becoming more of an adult, gaining more respect from the team. Everything was going perfectly. Now, Spencer Reid was no longer just a shy and genius little boy, he was also proving to be a man worthy of working in the BAU, not just because of his extremely intelligent brain.

Reid was not as shy as before, he was slowly loosening up. His germophobia was also getting better and better. Everything was going well. He was maturing.

However, he still had his virginity intact.

The entire BAU was surprised when Spencer accidentally confessed about his lack of sexual experience during his birthday party. It was a shock to everyone, even though it was so obvious. The team thought he would have at least one experience or another for the roster, but the fact that he entered college as a teenager had ruined everything. Even though he was handsome as hell now, Spencer was a complex person whose brain worked too fast for anyone to even try to fully understand, no girl never had much patience to flirt with him for more than a few days, and his excessive shyness did not do much for his situation. The few kisses he had already exchanged with some girls had never gone further. The only time he felt tempted to continue had been with Lila Archer, which did not happen.

Spencer did not plan on telling anyone about his virginity. It was a shameful matter that he would rather keep secret forever. If it were not for the alcohol consumed during the night, he might never have confessed. None of his friends would know about this part of his life. If it were not for the whiskey, he would probably remain a virgin forever.

"F-Fuck. I can't..." Reid whimpered like a pathetic little boy as he squirmed in his seat, clenching his hands into fists and arching his head back, eyes closed and lips pink and already swollen from biting them. "Her mouth is so good..."

Morgan laughed at the sight of his best friend becoming a noisy mess every time you on your knees in front of him masterfully sucked on the tip of his cock. The boy's moans echoed in the room and went straight to Morgan's cock.

"How do you feel?" Morgan asked Reid, stroking his friend's brown hair as he finally opened his eyes, biting his lip again and trying to give a concentrated answer, but it went from tearful moans, which caused a chuckle from both Morgan and Hotch, who was just watching the scene. "You should try to have fun with us."

"Men aren't my thing, much less the kid one there." Hotch grumbled and Spencer pouted his lips sadly, giving his boss his puppy eyes.

It was Morgan's turn to roll his eyes, pulling Spencer's hair back a little to lick his neck, his teeth nibbling on the soft, vulnerable skin, causing Spencer to start to lift his hips desperately with his cock inside your mouth, in a desperate attempt to reach orgasm faster. "See, sweetheart? You're doing amazing."

Morgan used his free hand to stroke your hair, your eyes shining at him in confirmation, before you turned to Spencer, letting go of his cock when you noticed he was going to cum any moment ago. The big sad eyes on Reid's face caused laughter between you and the other two agents.

"Relax, kid. If you cum inside her mouth now, you won't be able to fuck her tight pussy anytime soon." It was Hotch who muttered a little grumpily, trying to hide the slightly sadistic smirk when he saw the tears of despair running down the genius' face.

Morgan gestured for you to stand up, your body covered by only a white lace panties that seemed to be tucked into your ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Hotch and Morgan bit their lips, while Spencer whimpered, trying to squirm in the seat so he could touch you. He had never touched a woman's breasts or ass before.

Hotch scoffed when he saw the pleading in Spencer's face. "Looks like someone is very eager."

Morgan followed Hotch's gaze, diverting his attention from your ass for a while so he could watch the younger boy's despair, enjoying it. "I guess you should stop his suffering for a bit. His brain is gonna break if you don't let him fuck you soon."

Morgan's suggestion made you laugh. "Virgins..." You rolled your eyes playfully, but it caused a sad pout from Reid, too confused and desperate to understand that it was nothing more than a teasing. As soon as you took off the lace fabric and threw it to Hotch, you heard him growl. He did not like prostitutes and had been completely against hiring one for Spencer to lose his virginity. But Morgan had convinced him. At first, he had said he would just watch, but the moment you wrapped the condom around Spencer's cock and gently fitted it in, his mind went into a frenzy.

That was one of the hottest scenes Hotch had ever seen. The youngest of the team crying with so much pleasure after having his cock stuck in a wet pussy for the first time. Your ass shaking every time you bounced on him, your own hands cupping your breasts and staring into Spencer's submissive gaze, those beautiful eyes filled with tears. The way Morgan grabbed Spencer by the neck, distracting him from watching your pretty breasts for a while, while now he felt his thin lips being crushed by Morgan's mouth with an aggressive kiss, his hand going down the older agent's pants by instinct.

Hotch had not liked that plan at all. He thought it was absurd. He did not like prostitutes. He did not like it when two BAU members got involved, even casually. This should all be disgusting and repulsive.

However, when Morgan and Spencer were still kissing, Morgan's bit heavy hand crushing your breast while Spencer's slender fingers played with your other nipple, it all became too much. Every moan that left your lips with the overstimulation caused by your breasts being used or by your wet pussy riding non-stop on Spencer's virgin cock. The whimpers that came out of Spencer at the new and incredible sensation, in addition to Morgan's intense kisses. The growls that Morgan let out while Spencer hangjob him with an inexperienced and almost stupid way, which made everything even more perfect.

Hotch should hate this and go away, go back to his wife and pretend he did not see any of it. The problem was, he knew that would be impossible. He wanted to continue, he wanted to feel everything too. Feeling his sex life a little more interesting in all the chaos that was his career and his marriage.

"I'm serious. I really don't like guys." Hotch warned again with an uncomfortable face, almost as uncomfortable as the tightness in his pants. You, Morgan, and even Spencer shared a few soft chuckles when Hotch snorted and took off his tie, unbuttoning his white dress shirt and throwing it to the floor before grabbing you by the neck, kissing your skin while you continued to ride Spencer.

"So that won't be a problem, Sir. I'm not a guy, I'm just a whore. All of you three can use me however you want." You scoffed and Hotch huffed, nodding then and licking your earlobe, his hands moving your hips to encourage you to go faster on top of Reid.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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iluvpjo · 9 months ago

Note

HII SO I HAD THIS IDEA SOME TIME AGO AND IT CAME BACK INTO MY HEAD YESTERDAY SO :^

Imagine you play a role in pjo maybe silena or something and ure at the pjo premier with everyone else (ure dating charlie) n you and charlie dissapear for a bit and when you come back everyone is confused and is whispering like 'why is she walking so wierd?' SKSKDKDKFK IM SORRY

Also can i be 🌻 anon??

REMEMBER TO EAT ENOUGH AND STAY HYDRATED !!

𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒲 / 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝐵𝓊𝓈𝒽𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁

(Walking funny w/ Charlie bushnell)

Synopsis: (read the request basically for a longer version) basically u n charlie hangout n when u come back ur walking funny 😋

Warning(s): NSFW! MDNI, I don’t think um there has to be anymore warnings…

Pairing: Charlie Bushnell x fem reader

Word count: 1,315K

Note: HEHE hi 🌻 anon!!! Welcome n ily, also ur brain is so smart n sexc for this!!!

*also guys just so yk if u can’t tell I write fics differently to how I write THIS kinda stuff beforehand 😭 like I write silly here but not during my fics ^^

Send me a request! Here’s my req rules :)

Come find me on AO3!

There were loud yet hushed noises echoing around the bathroom that shielded the two of you from the rest of your cast mates, hiding you both away so you could get a quick quickie in before joining everyone. Inside the bathroom stall the two of you were on each other, your teeth clashing as your skin slapped against skin. It was hot and it was lewd, and you were sure you’d die of embarrassment if the two of you ever got caught like this.

“C-Charlie, hurry.. we’ve gotta get back to the premier!” You complained through your teeth, pouting your makeup covered lips. You were sure that your stylist would kill you for ruining your makeup and hair, your mascara was slightly smudged in the corners from your eyes watering — you couldn’t help tearing up a little when Charlie would stimulate you like this. Your lipstick was also a mess, and Charlie knew he’d have to wash your kiss marks off of his neck at the sink before leaving the bathroom together.

“I know sweetheart, but you wanted this remember?” He asked in a bit of a condescending tone, his lips curling up into a smirk as he kept standing there in front of you between your legs. “I- I know..” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, pouting your lips and furrowing your eyebrows at him like you were upset at him. But he knew you weren’t, he simply chuckled and shook his head at your pouty reaction, scoffing and mumbling that you were very ‘cute’ when you acted like this.

“I’m not cu- ah!~” Your complaints were cut off by Charlie when he thrusted deeper inside of you, pressing harshly against your cervix and making your stomach ache a little “Hold that thought sweet girl. Unless you don’t wanna cum?” Charlie tilted his head at you as he asked that with this smug smile on his face. “Of course I do!-“ He cut you off again “Tut. Tut. Then be quiet for me sweet girl, I don’t want anyone catching us like this..” Charlie chuckled a little to himself as he watched you accept and grumble to yourself a little.

Charlie moved you carefully so that you were in a better position for the both of you, you were bent over and your arms were holding yourself against the wall. Charlie was standing behind you, his hands gripped tightly on your hips as he rocked himself back and forth inside of your tight pussy. You weren’t the best at taking it from behind, the position would always be a little too much for you— but Charlie wanted you to take it today. He knew you’d have a harder time staying quiet but he wanted to challenge you, plus he found it really cute how you were trying your hardest to stay quiet (even if you were failing!)

“C-Charlie..~” You groaned out, your legs trembling underneath you as his cock kept hitting against your fleshy insides. Your wet slick was dripping onto him, covering his large cock as well as dripping down your thighs a little. “Yes, my love?” Charlie asked you with a hushed voice, “f-feels good..” You whined out and bit down on your bottom lip to muffle your moans. “Yeah sweetheart? It feels good does it? Let me help you feel even better..” You didn’t have any time to question what he meant, he lifted your right leg up and started hitting inside of you at a different angle which had you close to seeing stars.

You removed one of your arms from holding onto the wall, having to use it to cover your mouth. Your moans were muffled, but it didn’t mean that they were silent “mfhh!~ ah!~ fuckk’” You cried out as Charlie’s cock ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. “Fuck.. Sweet girl, I’m gonna cum..” Charlie warned you and you just nodded at him, encouraging him to just keep going. Charlie hissed under his breath as he had to keep quiet as well, letting out a soft gutters groan when he began to cum.

His cock twitched before spurting out his hot seed which painted your insides white, a bit of his cum dripping from your cunt. Charlie took a moment as he had a breather before he then slammed back inside of you, he felt a little more sensitive but he had a goal to make you cum as well. You threw your head back in pleasure, squirming against him when the tip of his cock entered you deeper and got pressed to the hilt. You couldn’t control yourself anymore and you began to cum, your eyes teary and your legs shakey as your pussy clenched tightly around him and came.

“Fuck’ C-Charlie I love you!~” You cried out as you came, your orgasm hitting you roughly like a huge wave. “I love you too sweetheart.” Charlie helped you as you began to recover from your orgasm, helping you sit up against his chest. Your legs wanted to give out, shaking and hurting from just standing there but luckily Charlie was holding onto your waist now. “Don’t worry sweet girl, I’ve got ‘ya.” Charlie reassured you as he slowly helped you clean up a little and get dressed, pulling your panties up and pulling your dress back down etc..

“T-That felt really good.. L-Let’s get back to the premier before they realise we’re gone!” You told him and tried to hurry, Charlie paused you for a moment as he had to quickly use the sink to wash off the lipstick marks. As he looked in the mirror cleaning himself he replied to you and said “I think it might be a little too late for that dear.” He spoke “What? No.. it’ll be fine, I don’t think they even noticed!!!” You were lying to yourself and Charlie could see it, but he wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t wanna embarrass you.

(There’s more writing btw)

“Hey, where’s Y/n and Charlie gone? They’ve been gone for a bit now and the premier is about to start!” Leah complained and began to fidget in her seat as she looked around for them, her head turning and trying her best to look behind the rest of the people sitting around hoping to find them each somewhere in the crowd. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Walker asked her and squinted his eyes a bit, Leah huffed and pulled her phone out to show him the time.

“Didn’t we get here almost an hour ago?” Walker questioned as he saw the time “Like around five I think. They’ve both been gone almost the entire time we’ve been here!” Aryan joined the conversation as he heard the two of them talking. They were all discussing about where they thought that you and Charlie would be that they didn’t notice when the two of you actually joined them, only turning their heads around to see you two when Dior spoke up.

“Wait— why’s Y/n walking like that?” Dior whispered to herself, blinking in confusion as she watched. Walker and Leah leaned forward to look past Aryan and Dior, Walker letting out a bit of a laugh “Haha! She really is walking weirdly. Why do you think that is?” Walker gossiped to Leah and Aryan “No idea.” Aryan shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry we were gone guys! I uh— we got held up.” You excused yourself and sat down beside Dior, Dior looked over at you and was about to say something until she noticed your flushed face and messed up hair. She shut her mouth, turning away and gigging a little to herself, she knew exactly why you were walking weirdly now. Aryan heard her laughing and looked over at you too to figure out what was going on, and he sorta got a bit of an idea too but wasn’t quite sure.

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader smut #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader smut #percy jackson #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader smut #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell smut #smut #requested #pjo smut #percy jackson x reader #🌷 anon

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lefteagleblizzard · 1 month ago

Text

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: At the lodge, your friendly chat with Matt sparks Mike's jealousy. In the woods, he finally confesses his feelings, igniting a passionate connection between you and him, culminating months of hidden desire.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Oblivious reader. Friends to lovers. Jealousy. Emily is hostile to the reader. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Smut out in the open. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Blowjob (r giving). Anal sex.

Words count: 4500

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3.

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

The cold mountain air bit at your skin as you trudged up the snow-covered road toward the lodge. A chill ran through you, and you tugged your jacket tighter, glancing around at the quiet landscape. Your boots crunched softly against the thick blanket of snow with each step.

You didn't hear it at first, but you felt a presence behind you and soon two large, warm hands suddenly covered your eyes. You froze for a split second, your heart leaping into your throat as a familiar voice whispered in your ear, low and teasing.

"Guess who?"

For a second, you were caught off guard and frightened, but then, just as quickly, you let yourself relax, recognizing the rough feel of his calloused hands, the deep timbre of his voice, and the warmth radiating from his body as he stood close behind you. His chest was almost touching your back.

Mike.

Of course, it was Mike.

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused, and leaned back slightly against his chest, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. With a gentle push, you pried his hands away from your eyes and spun around to face him.

"Real subtle" you said, shaking your head as you met his eyes.

He chuckled, his breath visible in the cold air. "Hey, it worked, didn't it? You jumped, so I won."

"You're an idiot," you retorted, though your tone was more playful than annoyed.

Mike shrugged, his grin widening. "Yeah, but I'm your favorite idiot”

You shot him a quick glance, unsure if you'd imagined the shift in his tone, but the playful grin on his face remained, as if daring you to respond.

"You really are full of yourself, huh?" you teased, hoping to mask the sudden warmth blooming in your chest.

Mike grinned wider, clearly unfazed. "Someone's gotta be, right? Besides, it's fun getting reactions out of you."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts," you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your heart was racing.

Mike chuckled again, his tone softening as his gaze lingered on you. "You look good, by the way," he said, almost offhandedly. "Really good."

You opened your mouth to respond but faltered for a moment, unsure how to take the compliment without overanalyzing it.

"Thanks," you muttered, trying to play it cool. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Not so bad?" Mike echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, I know I look better than 'not so bad’ “

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face. "Okay, fine. You look good, Monroe."

He flashed you a cocky grin, clearly pleased with himself. "That's more like it." His voice was smooth, laced with the kind of playfulness he always reserved for you. He was standing closer than usual, his gaze unwavering. You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension.

"So, how are things with Emily?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Mike's smirk faltered for just a second, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before looking back at you. "We broke up."

You blinked, surprised. "Oh... I didn't know. Sorry."

You had already an idea of why it might have happened.

"Nah, don't be," he said with a casual shrug, though there was a heaviness in his tone that betrayed his words. "It wasn't working out."

The ease in his voice didn't quite match the tightness in his jaw, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of guilt for bringing it up.

"Besides," he added, stepping a little closer, "I'm single now."

His voice was low, almost suggestive.

He glanced at you, trying to gauge your reaction. A part of him wanted to see something, anything in your expression that hinted you cared about his relationship status, that maybe you were glad he was no longer with Emily. He didn't know if he could ever tell you how much he'd thought about you while he was with her.lo

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the crisp mountain air. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your pulse race and your thoughts blur.

You both continued talking, light and casual conversations together and Mike's thoughts were only on you. How good you looked standing there, snowflakes clinging to your hair, your cheeks flushed from the cold. How amazing it felt when you'd leaned back against him earlier, even if it was just for a second. He'd wanted to hold you there, to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

He caught himself glancing at your lips more than once, wondering what it would feel like to kiss you right here, right now, in the middle of the snowy mountain. To show you, finally, how much he cared, how perfect things could be between the two of you if you'd just let h

But he hadn't said anything yet. Not because he didn't want to, but because... well, because he wasn't sure how you felt. He'd never seen you with anyone else. Sure, you were always friendly, always laughing, but he didn't know if that meant anything more.

So, instead of saying what he really wanted to, Mike kept the conversation light, teasing you, making you laugh and you shot back with your own sarcastic retorts.

Eventually the moon was already high in the sky and it got dark really quickly. You started making your way up to the lodge together, racing on who could arrive first.

When you both arrived at the lodge, the warmth of the fire greeted you, along with the sound of your friends chatting and getting settled in

Mike scanned the room, spotting a seat on the couch. He dropped down into it, stretching his arms out, hoping—praying—that you'd sit next to him. It was still cold, and having you close would have been perfect.

"Come on," he called, patting the empty spot next to him. "I saved you a seat."

You rolled your eyes, shrugging off your coat and getting rid of the snow stuck in your hair. "How generous."

"Hey, I don't offer my couch space to just anyone," he replied with a wink. "Consider yourself special."

You shook your head, laughing softly as you made your way toward him. But just as you were about to sit down, you noticed Matt struggling to carry a mountain of bags. One of the suitcases slipped from his grasp, and without thinking, you stepped over to help him, bending down to pick it up.

"Thanks, man," Matt said with a sheepish grin, adjusting the rest of the bags. "I swear, Emily packed like we're staying for a month."

You chuckled, handing him the suitcase. "No problem. Need any more help?"

"Nah, I think I've got it now," Matt replied. "But I appreciate it. How was the drive up here?" Matt asked, shifting one of the bags in his arms. "Did you come up with anyone?”

"Nah, I came up solo," you replied, shrugging. "It was a nice drive though, peaceful"

"Yeah, I get that. I bet it's nice to have some quiet," Matt said, nodding in agreement. "Emily barely let me get a word in the whole ride. Nonstop talking."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Sounds like a nightmare."

The two of you exchanged a few more words, just casual small talk. Mike' eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange, his jaw tightening. You were talking to Matt, laughing with him, and it bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

The way you smiled at him and the way Matt's eyes lingered on you made Mike's blood boil.

He sat back on the couch, his arms spread out across the cushions, his body language as casual as he could manage.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest, the cold air from outside still lingering in the room, but the warmth of the fire did little to chase away the chill in Mike's mood. He wanted to be near you. Hell, he wanted you sitting next to him right now, your body close to his. The couch had more than enough room, and he'd made sure to stretch out, hoping you'd notice and join him. But instead you kept chatting up with Matt.

It wasn't fair. How could you not see what was happening? How could you not see how much it bothered him? How much did he wanted you? He had spent the whole walk up to the lodge teasing and flirting, practically laying his feelings bare, and yet you were there, caught up in conversation and acting the same way you did with him.

Matt's hand lingered just a little too long as he reached out to take the suitcase back from you and Mike's fingers curled into fists, his jaw tight as he tried to keep his cool.

"So, are you thinking about moving soon?" Matt asked, setting the bags down all together in a spot. "Or are you staying put for a while?"

"I've been thinking about it," you said, nodding. "It'd be nice to have a little more space, you know?"

Mike's grip on the couch tightened, his knuckles turning white. Moving? Why hadn't you mentioned that to him? And why the hell were you telling Matt about it?

Matt smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I get that. More space is always nice. Have you thought about getting a roommate?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Maybe, but for now, I'm good with my own space."

Mike's stomach churned at that. Good with your own space? He had been thinking about how to get closer to you, how to spend more time with you, and you were chatting with Matt about moving and staying solo.

Just as Mike was about to get up and interrupt the conversation, the door swung open, and Emily stormed in, her eyes zeroing in on you and Matt.

"Didn't take you long to start flirting" Emily sneered, crossing her arms over her chest as she approached you and Matt.

Matt looked bewildered, the expression in his face telling you that he knew something you had no clue of. "Emily, it's not like that-"

"Right in front of me? Really, Matt? And with him?" She jabbed a finger in your direction.

You blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Emily's eyes blazed with fury as she took another step closer, her voice rising. "Don't play innocent. You think I didn't notice?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion as your brain tried to make sense of her words. "What?"

"You heard me," Emily snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes cold and accusatory. "I arrive a bit late and you're already cozying up to him. You couldn't wait, could you? You can't stand to see me with anyone, can you?"

Matt tried to intervene, raising his hands defensively. "Em, come on. He's just helping me out-"

"Stay out of it, Matt," Emily snapped, not even bothering to look at him. "This is between me and him."

"Me?" You were taken aback, genuinely baffled by her sudden hostility. "I didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. You're so innocent. Always playing the victim, pretending like you don't know what's going on."

Everyone was watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of tension and discomfort. Jessica, sitting by the fireplace, leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in interest. She exchanged a glance with Ashley, who was seated on the arm of the couch beside Chris. Both of them looked uneasy, but there was a flicker of recognition in their eyes. It was as if they knew something had been bubbling beneath the surface for a while, and now it was finally spilling over.

Sam has been sitting near the fireplace, quietly observing, her usual calm demeanor now tinged with a hint of concern. She was the one who had always noticed things others didn't. She has seen the looks Mike had given you, those quick glances that lingered a little too long, the way his whole body seemed to shift when you entered a room.

"You always had to have everything, didn't you?" Emily continued, stepping closer until she was practically in your face. "It wasn't enough that you had to get Mike wrapped around your finger, now you're going after Matt too?"

"Emily, that's not what's happening," you protested, trying to maintain your calm despite the rising tension.

"Don't lie to me," she hissed, jabbing a finger into your chest, her voice cracked slightly, though her bitterness held strong. "God, you probably loved every second of it, didn't you? Just waiting for me to get out of the way so you could swoop in. It's pathetic."

Was she even talking about Matt at this point?

You opened your mouth to respond, but the venom in her words made it hard to get a word in. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was as if all of her insecurities, all of her anger and hurt, were being poured out in this moment, directed squarely at you.

"I never tried to get between you and Mike."

"Oh, right, because it's totally normal for you to be all buddy-buddy with my boyfriend—"

"Ex-boyfriend," you corrected, your tone sharp now.

"Don't get smart with me. You might fool everyone else, but I know what's going on."

"You really want to know why i think Mike left you?" you asked, finally meeting her gaze. She wasn’t the only one with the privilege to say her thoughts. "It wasn't because of me. It was because you couldn't stop being a controlling, manipulative—"

"Watch it," Emily warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her finger jabbed into your chest again, harder this time.

Josh stepped forward, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a knife. "Alright, alright, can we all just take it down a notch?" he said, his usual easy-going grin plastered on his face, but there was an edge to his voice. "This is not why we came here. This is not... helping. If we can’t get along for 10 minutes then we need a little bit of a break, right?"

Emily shot him a glare but didn't argue.

"Mike," Josh said, turning his attention to the brooding figure standing silently by the couch. "Why don’t you check out the guest cabin? The one I told you about."

Mike, still seething, nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Sure."

But before he left, he grabbed your arm, pulling you with him. "Come on," he muttered, his voice low and tense. "Let's go.””

The grip he had on your arm was firm, almost too tight. He seemed angry, and you could feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him as he pulled you out of the lodge.

The cold air hit your face immediately. The heavy wooden door creaked behind you as it closed, and you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, feeling the chill set in. You glanced over at Mike, expecting some kind of lighthearted comment regarding what has happened. He remained silent however, his jaw tight as he walked ahead of you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket.

You sped up slightly to catch up to him, your breath visible in the cold air. "Hey, thanks again for stepping in back there," you said, hoping to ease the awkwardness that had settled between you. "I thought she was gonna tear my head off."

Mike barely glanced your way, his eyes fixed on the snow-covered path ahead. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice flat. "No problem."

The curt response caught you off guard.

"Come on," you tried again, forcing a chuckle. "It's not every day someone gets accused of breaking up a relationship they weren't even part of. I should be charging for that kind of drama."

Mike let out a short, humorless laugh, but it felt forced, and he didn't even look at you.

You watched him carefully as he walked ahead of you, his shoulders tense, his stride a little more aggressive than usual as his boots crunched heavily through the snow.

"Okay, seriously," you said, picking up your pace again to keep up with him. "What's going on with you?

Mike didn't respond immediately, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he pressed on, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

"You're not secretly plotting revenge on Emily, are you? Because I'm not sure I'm up for a 'Revenge of the Ex' scenario tonight. My ears would bleed if I have to hear her whine again"

Mike's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't say a word, his eyes locked straight ahead. It was like you weren't even there, and the silence between you was becoming suffocating.

You let out a frustrated sigh, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to ward off the cold. "You know, this silent treatment thing? Not your best look. Seriously, you're acting like I kicked your puppy or something."

Still, nothing. Mike's footsteps crunched against the snow as he moved toward the metal gate blocking the path ahead, his movements jerky and impatient. Mike tugged on the latch, trying to force it open, but the gate stayed stubbornly in place.

"No power," you reminded him, trying to keep your voice light. "The generator should be nearby by"

With a growl of frustration, Mike yanked on the gate harder, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet night. He muttered something under his breath, clearly losing patience as he tried again, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cold metal.

"Goddammit," he cursed under his breath, giving the gate one more angry shove, but it didn't budge. The clang echoed through the trees, and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to rein in his temper.

You blinked, watching him in stunned silence for a moment. "Mike," you said cautiously, stepping toward him. "What's going on?“

Mike didn't turn to face you immediately. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," you shot back, crossing your arms. "You're not fine. You've barely said two words to me, and now you're trying to rip a gate off its hinges. Come on. Talk to me. What's really bothering you?"

Mike finally looked up at you then, but the look in his eyes wasn't what you were expecting. Mike's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over as he finally spoke, his voice rougher than intended. "Do you even know what Emily was talking about?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and Mike hated the uncertainty that flashed across your face. He should have said something sooner.

"God, you really don't see it, do you?" He stopped pacing, standing still in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've had a thing for you for... I don't even know how long. But I never said anything because I thought maybe I could push it down. If I ignored it long enough, i thought it'd go away."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but he continued talking and gave you no time to respond. "But it never did. And then seeing you with Matt, it just... it fucking killed me, okay?"

"Mike..." you began, but he cut you off, stepping closer, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm tired of pretending," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hide it anymore.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air. You had never expected that Mike, of all people, had been harboring these kinds of feelings for you.

He backed you up until your back hit a tree behind you, the rough bark cold against your jacket, his hands gripping your shoulders as his body pressed against yours. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he growled, his breath hot against your lips.

His lips crashed against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. The force of it caught you off guard, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He pinned you against the tree, his larger frame hovering over yours as his tongue pushed past your lips. Your legs parted instinctively, allowing him to settle between them.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, the fabric of his jeans doing little to hide how hard he was for you.

Your soft moans only spurred him on, the sound sending a rush of heat through his veins. Mike's lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, then lower still, trailing a line of kisses down your chest as his hands slid beneath your shirt.

"How long?" you managed to ask between ragged breaths. "How long have you had a thing for me?"

Mike groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His voice was rough, almost guttural, as he admitted, "Too fucking long." His fingers dug into your hips.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with sincerity. "I didn't know... I didn't see it."

You had been oblivious to all of this. The guilt gnawed at you, and you felt the need to make it right, to show Mike just how much you regretted not noticing, not acting sooner.

Your hands moved down his body, fingers sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. Mike inhaled sharply at your touch, his breath catching as you began to undo the button on his jeans.

He looked down at you, confusion flickering in his eyes for a moment as you knelt in front of him. The snow beneath you crunched satisfyingly with your movements. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, unsure but curious.

You glanced up at him, your hands deftly working on his jeans, a shy yet mischievous grin forming on your lips. "I need to show you just how sorry I am," you whispered.

Mike's breath hitched at your words, and he bit his lip as you pulled his jeans down just enough to free him, your hand wrapping around him firmly. He groaned, the sound deep and needy, as his head tilted back slightly, his grip on the tree tightening as he watched you.

You stroked him slowly at first, your movements deliberate, watching the way his hips bucked slightly toward you.

"Fuck" Mike breathed out as he felt your lips brush the tip of him, teasing him just enough to make him curse under his breath. His hand moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he fought to keep control.

When you finally took him fully into your mouth, Mike let out a strangled moan, his hips instinctively thrusting forward. The heat, the wetness of your mouth, it was overwhelming. Every time you moved, it sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him. He looked down at you, his chest heaving, and the sight of you on your knees for him, your mouth wrapped around him, made something snap inside him.

He couldn't stop himself from moving his hips, thrusting deeper into your mouth, each motion filled with desperation and need. His voice was low, almost growling as he murmured your name between pants, barely able to keep himself in check.

"God, you feel so good," Mike groaned, his eyes locked onto you as his hips moved in sync with your rhythm.

Your tongue swirled around him, sending shivers up his spine, and Mike couldn't think straight anymore.

Just before he could reach the edge, he pulled you back up, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. He wasn't ready to let go just yet. Not when he still had so much more to give you.

His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as he once again pressed you against the tree. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the hard lines of his muscles as he held you up and settled between your legs again.

Mike's hands were everywhere, sliding under your jacket, under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His teeth grazed your neck as he sucked a mark into the tender flesh there. His fingers moved to your belt, undoing it with a quick flick of his hand.

His breath hitched as he pulled your pants down just enough for your ass to be exposed, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver.

His hand slid down between your legs, his fingers brushing against your entrance, teasing you with the lightest of touches.

He kissed you again, rough and urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers slowly began to prep you. He was careful, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He took his time, letting his fingers slide in gently, one at first, then two, stretching you carefully as his other hand gripped your waist to hold you steady.

He kissed you harder, his tongue moving in sync with the rhythm of his fingers as he continued to work you open.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're going to feel so good around me."

He stretched you further, his fingers moving faster now, more deliberately. His heart was pounding in his chest, his own arousal pressing hard against his jeans.

His fingers curled inside you, brushing against that sweet spot that made you gasp and arch against him.

Your moans were the only answer he needed and Mike knew you were as ready as he was. He pulled his fingers out slowly, the absence making you whimper, but before you could protest, Mike was already undoing his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

He pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he held you steady.

"Tell me you want this," Mike growled, his voice low and dangerous as he looked into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate as you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I need you... please."

That was all he needed to hear. With a low groan, Mike pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching you in a way that made you gasp. The tightness around him was almost too much, the heat and pressure overwhelming, but it felt perfect.

"Fuck," Mike grunted as he buried himself inside you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. He could feel every inch of you, the way your muscles clenched around him.

For a moment, he didn't move, just savoring the feeling, the way you fit him so perfectly. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath.

"You feel so fucking good," Mike groaned, his hands sliding up your back, holding you tight against him as he finally began to move.

You moaned his name softly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, and it only made Mike more desperate. His pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with more force now, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

Mike's hands roamed your body, gripping your ass, your thighs, anything he could hold onto as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

His voice barely audible as he kissed you hard, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his thrusts became more frantic, more desperate.

He slammed into you harder now, his hands gripping your hips to pull you down onto him as he thrust up, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

Mike could feel his own release building, the pressure becoming almost unbearable as he thrust into you with reckless abandon. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest, and he could feel the way your body was trembling, the way you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

"I'm gonna-" Mike's voice broke off into a low groan as the pleasure overwhelmed him, his body tensing as he came hard, his release spilling inside you. His hips jerked forward, his thrusts becoming erratic as he rode out the wave of pleasure.

Both you and Mike found yourselves leaning against the tree, your bodies still pressed close, the cold air doing little to calm the heat that lingered between you. Mike's chest heaved with deep breaths, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His arms still held you securely.

Mike's fingers gently trailed down your back. He gave a low, satisfied hum, his lips grazing your temple as he pressed a soft kiss there.

"I wasn't expecting that kind of apology," Mike murmured, his voice still rough and low, the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. "But damn... I could get used to it."

You let out a breathy laugh, still a little dazed and breathless yourself. "Well... I owe you after all this time."

Mike chuckled softly, his lips brushing against yours in a lazy kiss before he finally pulled back, his eyes flicking toward the direction of the lodge. He ran a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head slightly in disbelief of everything that had just happened.

"We should probably get to that cabinet," he said, though his voice carried an unmistakable teasing edge.

His hands still hadn't fully left your waist, and you could tell that he wasn't quite ready to let you go. There was a playful glint in his eyes now.

"Yeah, we should," you agreed, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. "I could use a break from the cold."

Mike grinned, finally letting his hands drift from your waist as he helped you adjust your clothes and brushing off the snow that had clung to your clothes. His touch was gentle now, though the way his fingers lingered on your skin as he fixed your jacket told you that his thoughts were far from innocent.

"But you know..." his voice dropped to that low, teasing tone that you were becoming all too familiar with. "I'm not sure one apology is enough. I might need a few more of those. Just to make sure you're really sorry."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to stop the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind, Monroe?"

Mike leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Maybe I'll show you when we get to that cabinet. It's nice and private... perfect for a few more 'apologies’."

Mike pulled back slightly, that smirk never leaving his face as he took your hand, leading you back toward the path.

The night had only just begun, and with Mike by your side, it was clear that this was just the start of something much, much deeper.

If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

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pandapetals · 13 days ago

Text

Shits and Giggles

You and Logan get drunk together and get caught by Xavier.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

“I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had,” you giggled, waving the half-empty beer bottle in your hand like it was some kind of trophy. The world felt a little off-kilter, the living room spinning just slightly as you leaned against Logan on the couch.

Logan, slouched back with his legs stretched out and another empty bottle at his feet, glanced over at you, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Sweetheart,” he slurred, his words tinged with a hiccup, “I think we both gave up on countin' somewhere between… hell, I don’t even know.”

You snorted, dissolving into another fit of laughter that made your shoulders shake. “Between 'hell' and 'I don’t even know,'” you echoed, the absurdity of it striking you as the funniest thing in the world. “That’s gotta be at least… five?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for another bottle on the coffee table, nearly knocking over a half-eaten bowl of pretzels in the process. “Five? Try ten,” he shot back, popping the cap off with a quick twist of his wrist. “You’re lightweight compared to me.” He took a swig, then glanced sideways at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Remember when you tried to out-drink me that one time?”

You burst into laughter again, nearly spilling your drink. “Oh my God, yes! I thought I could handle whiskey,” you said, still giggling as you shook your head. “And then I ended up singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' on the pool table.”

Logan snorted, his deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, you were ‘Galileo’-ing so hard, I thought you were gonna fall off.” He pointed at you with the neck of his beer bottle, his grin widening. “I’ve never seen anyone get that passionate about Freddie Mercury.”

“Well,” you said, trying to compose yourself but failing as another hiccup escaped, “Freddie Mercury is worth the passion.”

You both dissolved into another round of laughter, so loud that the quiet mansion seemed to echo with it, the kind of laughter that left your sides hurting and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It felt like the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of you—your private little universe of bad jokes and too many drinks.

Logan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “We gotta be the loudest drunks in history,” he murmured, his voice low and amused. “Pretty sure we just woke up half the neighborhood.”

“Hey, it’s not our fault the living room has such good acoustics,” you said, hiccuping again, then letting out a laugh that quickly turned into a snort. “Plus, if the mansion was really soundproof like Xavier claims, we’d be fine.”

As if on cue, Xavier wheeled in, looking every bit the stern headmaster despite the lateness of the hour. His brows were raised in a mixture of amusement and disapproval. “And what, may I ask, is the cause of all this ruckus?” he said, his voice calm but carrying that unmistakable tone of authority.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle your laughter. “Professor!” you said, eyes wide as you tried to sit up straighter. “Uh, we were just… um…”

“Studying the effects of… alcohol on… something,” Logan added, attempting to sound serious but breaking into a grin halfway through the sentence. “Purely scientific. For… education.”

Xavier sighed, shaking his head as he looked between the two of you. “At this hour? In the middle of the living room?” His lips quirked slightly like he was fighting the urge to smile. “You do realize there are other people in this mansion who require sleep?”

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite but still giggling. “Sorry, Professor,” you said, though your voice wobbled with barely contained laughter. “We’ll keep it down. Pinky promise.” You held up your little finger as if to seal the deal.

Logan glanced at you, then back at Xavier, and without missing a beat, extended his own pinky in a solemn gesture. “Swear on it,” he said, the grin still tugging at his lips.

Xavier shook his head again, a hint of a smile breaking through his stern expression. “I suppose I’ll let it slide this time,” he said, turning his chair toward the door. “But if I hear another rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' you’ll be on kitchen duty for the rest of the month.”

As soon as he left the room, you and Logan exchanged a look before breaking into laughter all over again, doubling over as you clinked your bottles together. “Kitchen duty,” you gasped, wiping tears from your eyes. “I can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm.”

Logan’s deep laughter echoed through the room once more as he reached over to pull you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Guess that’s one more reason to behave,” he said, his voice still rough with amusement. “But I gotta admit, darlin’, there’s nobody I’d rather get scolded with.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the laughter finally started to die down, leaving a warm, fuzzy contentment in its wake. “Likewise,” you murmured, your voice softened by the alcohol and the comfort of his warmth. “We really are a bad influence on each other, huh?”

Logan chuckled, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but I’d say we’re a damn good time.”

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readerstories · 2 months ago

Text

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates.

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor.

And there’s talking.

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets.

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face.

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do. Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks.

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks.

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it.

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword.

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold.

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE.

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

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aestas---estas · 2 months ago

Text

Loving Hands

“I want you to choke me tonight.” Your voice rings out through the otherwise quiet room.

You and Simon had been having a comfortable evening in your shared flat. He was in between deployments at the moment and it had been great having him back home. To you, he was the sweetest man alive. You knew the broad strokes of what he did when he wasn't home, knew he killed people, probably tortured them too, but he never let that side take over or rear its head in your proximity — the worst of it, if you want to call it that, came when he got jealous and protective. And oh, how you loved his protectiveness.

Simon brought you flowers, paid for dinner on your dates, opened doors, helped you over puddles in the streets; he was the perfect gentleman. Simon was also a master at following orders. Hence the request you just threw his way as you were watching him wash dishes from your seat perched on the counter.

“Yeah?” Simon asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you reiterate, plucking the plate he had just finished rinsing to dry it. “Not too hard, nothing that will leave marks, but I wanna feel that floaty feeling. I also want praise tonight; tell me I'm good, tell me how it feels, talk me through it.”

“Alright,” Simon answers with a nod, draining the water from the sink, shaking his hands to dry them, making droplets of water hit your arms and face.

You giggle at his antics, wiping the water away from your skin before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face.

It had taken some getting used to, making your wants and needs in the bedroom known. Before Simon, most of your lovers had been selfish, and the few times you had voiced your kinks they had been shut down or executed so poorly you didn't want to voice them anymore. But Simon thrived with clear instructions. Praise me, degrade me, use me, worship me. So long as he knew what you wanted him to do, he was more than willing to make your wishes come true.

It’s a few hours later, with Simon spreading his legs wide on the sofa, you tucked close under his arm, the TV playing some rerun of an old show you’ve both seen more times than you can count, that he brings it up again.

“Now, love? Or later in bed?” His hand is slowly stroking up and down your arm, nothing overtly sexual but no less intimate nonetheless.

You hadn’t even thought about having sex in the livingroom, had assumed he’d take your instructions from before and utilize them once you’d both gotten ready for bed. But you can’t deny the way your stomach heats and flutters in that all too familiar way.

“I wouldn’t mind now,” you confess, feeling your face heat under Simon’s intense stare. He’s always had a staring problem, never letting you out of his sight more than necessary, and if you ever were to find yourself not right by his side, you could always feel his gaze on you, making you feel safe.

Simon hums his understanding, a sound that vibrates through his strong chest, before redirecting his eyes to the TV; his fingers still wandering up and down your arm softly. You know his focus is entirely on you, on your reactions, even if he is acting like it isn’t, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together for a brief moment of relief. You hadn’t been particularly horny, but just knowing that you’re going to get fucked just the way you want, has arousal already pooling in the juncture between your legs.

“You’re always so soft,” Simon murmurs, dropping his face to the top of your head, practically nuzzling you. You smile but say nothing, just lets him voice his thoughts. “Smell fucking amazing too. Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes.”

You want to echo his sentiment, say that he’s all yours too, that you feel just as lucky as he does, but his hand has dropped from your arm to your thigh, squeezing and massaging your flesh in the way he knows you love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He punctuates the statement with a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers slipping dangerously close to where you want them — where you need them. The way he pushes your legs apart isn’t rough, but it could never be described as gentle either, and when his hand dips below the waistband of your sweats you don’t suppress the moan of anticipation that leaves your throat. “Eager one, aren’t you?”

He’s teasing you, both with his words and the way his fingers run up and down your slit — inside your pants, but not yet inside your underwear. You don’t answer verbally, already melting against him, giving in to the pleasure you know is coming, only nodding lazily as your eyes slip shut.

You can hear the smirk in Simon’s voice as he speaks again. “That’s it, just let go and let me take care of you, love.” He presses down a little firmer, rubbing tight, slow circles around your clit and relishes in the way you tense your thighs in preparation; you want to grind yourself against his touch, he knows it, you know it, and it takes all your willpower to not give in.

“Please, Simon,” you whine, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, opening your neck up for him to plant open mouthed kisses on. Not one to let his love go unsatisfied, Simon leans down to trace your weak spots with his lips, making your pulse flutter and your breath hitch under his ministrations.

“Sound so pretty when you whine and beg,” he says against your skin and finally, finally, slips his fingers into your underwear. “Already so wet for me, love.” He drags the digits through your folds, gathering some of the slick to smear over your clit. His touch is gentle but precise, he knows just how you like it and is intent on making you enjoy yourself.

“Choke me,” you beg, a reminder about what you're expecting, about what started this whole thing in the first place.

“Patience,” Simon mumbles against the length of your throat, his fingers pressing down just enough to be uncomfortable before going back to the toe curling circles.

He plants more kisses along your heated skin, sucks gently at your pulse point in a way that drags an embarrassingly loud moan from your throat. The TV is still on, but whatever was playing on it got drowned out by the noises of Simon's fingers gliding through your wetness and your panting breaths.

It's Simon that groans when he finally slips two fingers inside. “Fuck you're wet.”

You nod lazily, clenching around his digits, already practically humping against his hand — you love it, love him, you need more.

“Only for you,” you manage to say and you can feel his lips quirk up in a smirk against your shoulder.

You beg for him to go faster, and ever the obedient soldier, Simon does; pulling moans and whimpers from you until you're nothing but a wet, panting mess on the couch.

“Doing so good for me, love,” he says before moving his free hand to wrap around your throat. It's not unexpected, but it catches you by surprise nonetheless; you had been so wrapped up in his pumping fingers, so focused on chasing the pleasure he was providing.

“Fuck,” Simon groans again, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “You like that, huh? Go on, cum on my fingers, love.”

His palm presses against your clit, his fingers never slowing their constant in and out, and you hump needily against him. It's when he curls his digits just right to rub against that spongy spot inside and tightens his hand to constrict your airflow just enough to make your mind float, that you explode. White hot pleasure shoots through your limbs, your back arching, eyes squeezing shut as you rut against him and cum with his name spilling from your lips.

The hand around your throat eases and you have to take a moment to catch your breath. When you finally turn your head enough to blink up at him, Simon is cleaning your slick off his fingers, eyes closed as he indulges in the taste of you. The sight sends another bolt of excitement through you, making you squeeze your thighs together.

“More,” you say, already swinging your legs over his to straddle his thick thighs, hands searching for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off.

Simon chuckles but lets you undress him. It takes some combined effort to remove his jeans without getting up from the couch, but you’re both hellbent on not losing the contact between your bodies.

“You want to be on top, love?” He asks, voice low and practically dripping with arousal. His words vibrate through his chest and it makes you grind down on the obvious bulge in his boxers.

You turn it over in your mind; the idea of being on top, of being the one more in control. But ultimately you shake your head in the negative. Tonight was a night for submission, for letting Simon play your body like an instrument, for letting go and giving in.

With strength that always seems to surprise you, he grabs hold of your thighs, rough fingers digging into plush flesh, and flips the two of you over on the couch.

“So fucking pretty like this,” Simon murmurs, placing soft, wet kisses on the length of your throat, nudging at the neckline of the shirt you wore — one of his, Riley stamped across the back. It made him crazy every time he saw you in it. “All worked up, so needy for more.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your voice enough with words, head already scrambled with pleasure and anticipation.

“So wet and ready for me.” He keeps sweet-talking you, breath fanning over your skin, hands wandering up and down your body until your clothes are laying in a pile on the floor and his hips are slotted between your spread legs.

“Simon,” you whine, fingers digging into his muscular back, hips lifting from the couch in search of friction.

And he has the gall to laugh, a deep chuckle that makes molten hot desire pool in your guts. You're just about ready to explode, to beg for him to just fuck you already, when he ruts against your sopping cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your clit.

“Aching for it, aren't you? Naughty girl,” he says, rubbing his cock up and your folds, coating himself in your wetness before slipping just the first inch inside. It's a stretch, it always is, but you crave more.

Simon mouths his way up your neck, finding your lips and kisses you dizzy. He swallows your moan as he sinks in, filling you up in a way that always makes you ache just slightly.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his hips unmoving as the two of you just bask in the feeling of being connected so intimately.

A few more kisses get exchanged, lazy and languid, all lips and tongues and deep moans, but before long you're aching for more.

“Move,” you demand between kisses, hands roaming the vastness of his broad back before coming to rest on his ass, pushing just enough to give him an incentive to follow orders.

He's slow about it, mean even, pulling out until just the head is lodged inside before pushing back in. And when you thrust up against him in an attempt to make him move faster and deeper, Simon grips your hips and keeps you pinned down against the couch.

“Just stay still for me. ‘M gonna make it so good for you, but you have to be a good girl and do as you're told,” he says and a whine passes your lips as you struggle against all the feelings bubbling up inside your chest. It's not just the physical pleasure, it's the emotional intimacy and just everything — you're so goddamn in love with this man it makes you want to explode.

Simon's next move is less of a roll of his hips and more of a snap, slamming his cock inside in a way that nearly punches all the air from your lungs. One of his hands moves from their position to keep you still to instead lock around your throat.

“This what you wanted?” He asks, a quick check in to make sure you're okay before anything threatens to spiral out of control. You had asked for choking, but he needed to make sure anyway.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding as best as you can with the limited movement your head is given.

And that's all Simon needs to hear, fingers constricting over your throat as he fucks you right there on the couch; other hand still on your hip, making sure you lay still and let him take care of you.

“Feel so good ‘round me, love. So fucking good,” he groans, so low and deep it could nearly count as a growl, punctuating every word with a punching thrust.

Gasps and moans and the filthy, wet sounds of Simon's cock slamming into your cunt fills the room, and the pleasure is all you can focus on.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, your chest heaving and you swear you're probably drooling with how your mouth hangs open.

“Such a good fucking girl. Taking my cock so well.” Most of what Simon is mumbling gets lost in the grunts he makes, but just the sound of his voice gets you closer to the edge.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings and filthy words, but it's when he thumbs at your clit that's your undoing. Just a few quick, hard circles around that bundle of nerves has you careening towards ecstasy and your legs constrict around his middle as he fucks you through the orgasm.

“That's it,” Simon growls as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, the hand on your throat squeezing just enough to make you feel light headed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Your climax ebbs and flows, a tidal wave of dizzying pleasure that the oxygen deprivation only seems to add to. A garbled noise leaves your throat and it's enough of a tell for Simon to ease his grip on you.

“‘M gonna cum. Where do you want it?” His hips are still snapping against yours, cock racing in and out of your weeping cunt and it takes a few moments as you catch your breath before you manage to register it's no longer rhythmic.

“Where you want it, love?” Simon repeats through gritted teeth, thighs flexing and relaxing with every thrust.

“Inside,” you manage to gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders, red half moons denting his skin.

“Fuck, fuck!” He groans, spilling inside of you as your inner walls all but milk him dry.

He collapses on top of you, face buried between your neck and shoulder, breath heavy and hot on your skin as you both bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. His lips find your pulse point again, just a chaste kiss, but it still sends a shiver through your body.

“No,” you complain when he moves to get off you, cradling his head as you pet his hair.

“Not going far,” Simon promises, hissing from the overstimulation as he slips his softening cock out of your wet heat. “Gotta clean up.”

You make a whining noise of complaint but let him go nonetheless. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, following Simon’s movements with your ears as he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You can hear the water of the faucet turn on, then off, and then he’s back by your side with a damp towel and a glass of water.

“Drink,” he says, shoving the glass into your hand before carefully swiping the towel between your legs to clean off any excess cum. He settles in beside you, tucks you in close to his side, presses a kiss to the top of your head and throws the blanket that had been draped over the couch’s back across both of you.

“You okay?” He asks. Always making sure. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m perfect,” you answer, smiling up at him before craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Me too.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t remember making your way to the bedroom, but when you wake in the middle of the night there’s a soft mattress underneath you and a fluffy goose down duvet over your body with Simon’s arm slung across your middle and his warm chest pressed tightly against your back. He’s snoring softly behind you and the rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you back to sleep.

--- Masterlist

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caplanbuckybarnes · 1 month ago

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Surprise! (bucky barnes)

Summary: you thought everyone forgot your birthday.

Warnings: none, fluff at the end.

WC: 600ish

A/N: my birthday was October 8. i was feeling super sad and miserable that day and I didn't want to keep posting sad things on here on that day. So viola. have a sad reader on her birthday. lol

Read on Ao3!

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of New York. The city was alive with chatter and laughter, but in your small apartment, you felt an unsettling quiet. It was your birthday, but no one seemed to remember.

You had casually dropped hints to your friends in the days leading up to today—talking about your favorite cake, reminiscing about past celebrations—but as the hours slipped away, your excitement faded into disappointment. Messages were scarce, and the few you received were vague: “Happy Wednesday!” or “Can’t wait to catch up soon!”

With a heavy heart, you settled onto the couch, scrolling through social media. Everyone seemed to be having fun, but you felt like a ghost, floating through a world that had forgotten you.

Just as you were about to turn off your phone and give in to the sadness, a knock echoed through your apartment. You sighed, hoping it was a friend stopping by with a slice of cake or, at the very least, a friendly face.

When you opened the door, there stood Bucky Barnes, his signature smile brightening the dim hallway. “Hey, you! Ready for some fun?”

“Fun? What do you mean?” You forced a smile, trying to hide the heaviness in your chest.

“Oh, you know, just thought we could hang out. Got some stuff planned,” he said, stepping inside. His easy demeanor made you feel a little lighter, and you nodded, grateful for the distraction.

As the evening wore on, Bucky introduced you to a series of games and movies, keeping the atmosphere light. You laughed at his antics, but deep down, you felt the ache of disappointment. You wanted to celebrate, to feel special, but it seemed like this was just another ordinary night.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Bucky said, heading toward the kitchen. You watched him go, feeling a mix of appreciation and sadness. Just as you settled back into your thoughts, the doorbell rang again.

Bucky returned with an armful of snacks. “I hope you like pizza rolls,” he said, grinning. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “But we’re not done yet!”

Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed your hand and led you back to the door. He opened it wide, revealing a group of your closest friends, all smiling and holding balloons, streamers, and a giant cake that read “Happy Birthday!”

Your heart leapt, and your eyes widened in disbelief. “You…you all remembered?”

Bucky stepped forward, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Of course we did! We just wanted to make it special. You mean a lot to us, and we couldn’t let your birthday go by without a proper celebration.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you turned to face your friends. They all chimed in, “Surprise!” and wrapped you in hugs. The warmth of their love washed over you, banishing the loneliness that had settled in your heart.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed with joy. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it was a team effort, but I wanted you to know how much you’re loved.”

As the night unfolded, laughter and music filled your apartment, and the worries of the day faded away. You danced, played games, and shared stories, surrounded by friends who cherished you.

In that moment, you realized that even on days you felt forgotten, there was always love waiting to surprise you. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you would never be alone.

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

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Day 22: Bondage - Poly!Marauders

Summary: Trying something new, you trusted your boyfriends as they restrained you in the middle of an empty classroom

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bondage, restraints with ropes, eyemask, anonymous sex, mouth gag, dom/sub, edging, nearly caught, free-use (kinda), creampie, subspace, aftercare

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

It had taken nearly half an hour to set up. James undressed you slowly, chilling you to the bone as the emptied classroom did little to provide warmth. Remus positioned your body to allow Sirius to begin intricately moving his wand, directing the rope into unique knots he’d been practising for today.

They used a rickety old desk with numerous burn marks from past students' experiments having gone wrong on the top, but this was the base for where you would be leaning your weight. Your chest was pushed over the surface, so you were bent over. Each of your ankles was tied to the floor, giving no space to move from how your legs are spread, giving the boys the perfect view of your intimate areas. Your arms are awkwardly positioned behind your back and then the thick rope slithered and wound around your body, delicately between your breasts so they both are perked until you are utterly and thoroughly strapped to the desk with no means of escape.

Despite the odd angle and the sensation of the rope, it was surprisingly comfortable, especially as your head was left to dangle off the edge of the desk and had free movement.

“How’s this position feeling?” James asked, squatting down so that you could look him in his hazel eyes.

“It’s good, Sirius did a great job”, you respond with a grin and, earning a satisfied whoop from Sirius.

“Good. Now tell me what you need to do if you want to use your safeword”, James asked with caution, lacing his tone.

“Shake my head or tap my fingers three times”.

“Good girl”, Sirius praises from where he stood out of your line of vision, but you could feel the journey his fingers were taking down your spine, between the ropes. “Now, it’s time to say bye-bye”.

This was all part of the plan. First, they placed a ball gag into your mouth, Remus doing so delicately before kissing your temple and easing the silk eye mask to cover your vision. All you were left to depend on was your hearing as you listened to them walking away and out the door.

Alone, you attempted to try and move, testing the restraints, and all it did was tighten around your body, the rough material burning slightly from the friction. Everything seemed to be much louder, from the creaking of the ropes to your own breathing; it was all emphasised as you tried to listen for the door opening again, but you were unsure who it would be. This was the idea for today's antics, somewhat anonymous sex but with your boyfriends, bound and gagged, for them to come and touch and fuck without getting caught.

It was exhilarating, blood pumping with adrenaline, which helped to keep you warm as you waited patiently, a pulse forming between your thighs for what was about to happen.

The door creaking open was your first sign of someone else in the room. You stopped breathing to try and listen more closely to the steps, but you could not decipher who had walked through the door. The ropes strained more as you attempted to shift your position, to prepare for what was to come, and already forgetting how thoroughly you were tied down, so all you managed to do was stay entirely still.

The zipper unfastened was almost deafening with how loudly it echoed around the classroom; all you could tell was that whoever it was was directly behind you. He did not touch you with his hands; the first touch from his body was the tip of whoever's cock had just been released from the confines of his trousers.

Your breath hitched as he swiped his hardness up and down your folds, adding extra pressure onto your clit that had your body tightening in tension and then relaxing with the pleasure that came from the stimulation. The lewd sound of your wetness being rubbed against had the tips of your ears warming, but you couldn’t contemplate the embarrassment as you slowly were penetrated.

You gasped, but it was muffled by the round plastic ball shoved in your mouth, holding your tongue to the bottom of your mouth and making saliva challenging to swallow that it was already beginning to dribble down your chin. It was blissful, that first stretch and burn that came with it, the wider your hole became, clasping around the cock like it was your body's lifeline.

The desk creaks under the weight of the movement of your body, especially as more warmth crowds your lower back as your boyfriend begins to lean their weight over you, pressing their hands into the desk on either side of your hips. Using that as leverage, he began to fuck you with hard, deep strokes.

Your head fell forward, fully dangling off of the edge. The entire experience was disorientating, not knowing which cock was inside of you. Either way, you loved it; even the ache building in your shoulders from the awkward angles of your arms couldn’t fault the overwhelming pleasure through your body.

Your moans increased in pitch, the fire in your abdomen blazing as he kept fucking and fucking until you thought it couldn’t feel any better; the urge to scream out with your orgasm was overwhelming. Until that is, the very thing giving you pleasure decides to vacate its warm home as the cock pulls out completely. Your cunt fluttered as you groaned with agony and frustration as the orgasm disappeared before reaching its full potential.

Only after you had calmed enough to stop whining that the cock fucked into you again, chasing their pleasure until their thrusts halted and warmth filled deep inside your cunt as their cum spurted into you. They stayed inside of you until their cock had softened. You wish you could have seen them, surprised they hadn’t even made a noise through it all, as each of your boyfriends was usually quite vocal as they ejaculated.

Whoever it was, leaves without so much as a ‘thanks for a good fuck’, as all you're left with is the obscene drip of the cum oozing out of your vagina and onto the stone floor. It matches the same noise of the saliva dripping down your chin and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle.

The door opens and closes again, the similar steps as before, a zipper and then a cock pushing in. You gasped just as lewdly as before, especially as your arms were tugged by whoever was fucking you, using your roped hands as something to hold onto as he fucked.

You were once again lost in pleasure. Anonymous sex with one of your boyfriends, bound, gagged, edged with each orgasm that threatened to become a reality. You were so close to cumming twice, your clit swollen and throbbing, and yet, you had to continue the endurance of not being able to cum. He would simply pull his cock out, take a step back and then continue once you’d calmed down enough.

You were close to begging, not that they would be able to understand what you were moaning about around the gag ball.

Just as the thrusting increased in strength, cock smacking into your cervix with the power behind it, did the door suddenly burst open.

“Someone is coming!” You could not tell who had spoken as you felt dizzy and fuzzy through the edging and bondage play. All you knew was that the pleasure had disappeared, and a hand was cupping your cheek. “I’m going to cover you in the invisibility cloak, but you need to stay quiet for us”.

The weight and warmth of the cloak were welcomed, giving you something to ground you in the moment, bringing you back to what was happening and moving past just throughs of cock and orgasms. Shit, you thought, someone was close to catching you all. Of course, this was all the thrill that came with fucking in a somewhat public space, but the realities of it had dread pooling in your stomach uneasily. Especially as you had no means of escape, thoroughly stuck in the position with no way out, or even seeing where anyone else was.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” came the lovely, soft voice of your best friend, Lily.

“Why are you snooping around, Evans? Can’t three boys be revising without any interruptions?” James responded sarcastically from where he stood in front of you from the sounds of it.

“You revising… in a dusty old classroom… You really make everything sound suspicious without even trying. And anyway, I was just on my rounds as head girl, and I spotted you hiding outside the door; of course, I’m going to follow and-” Lily pauses, taking a moment to think before asking with accusation thick in her voice. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Sirius asks, from bedside James.

“You know who I’m asking about, Sirius. Where you three are, she usually is, so where is she?” Lily asks, obviously referring to your whereabouts.

“I don’t know who you are talking about. Do you know who she’s talking about, Prongs?” Sirius asks James casually with a hint of arrogance.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Hello? Anyone else in here?” James shouts around the room, obviously not getting a response and earning a very sincere eye-roll from Lily. “Nope, not in here. Maybe whoever it is that you’re looking for is in the common room”.

Lily gives an exacerbated sigh, “Whatever, I won’t ask any more questions. Just make sure whatever it is you’re doing doesn’t lose us any house points”.

“Nothing like that is happening, I promise you that, Lily”, Remus answers, stepping forward and gently easing Lily out of the room. A few dreadful minutes pass before the warmth of the cloak disappears, and you’re nuzzling into a palm cupping your face. “Are you ok?” Remus asks gently, moving both hands to your face and tenderly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You nod your head as you answer that you are ok. “Good. Do you want to continue?” Once more, you’re nodding your head, yes. You mewl slightly as Remus’ hands leave the comfort of your face, and then two footsteps are heard leaving the door.

You’re left in the room with one of them, but once more, you’re unsure who it was that was circling around your body. Two fingers then swiped down your pussy, making you jolt in your restraints as they push in. You’re drenched from the side of it, and for once, they don’t stop until you orgasm, curling into that beautiful, sensitive spot within.

You were shivering through the orgasm, eyes clenching tightly closed, even though you were still covered in the eye mask. The waves of pleasure continued as a cock was replacing the fingers; from the size and feel of it, it was the same person as before you’d been interrupted by Lily.

He continued the pace as fiercely as before, your body now humming with pleasure and adrenaline and slipping further into the submissive space you enjoyed so much. Especially as you were restrained and putting your complete trust in your three boyfriends, it was easy to feel more vulnerable and submissive like this.

You came again as your boyfriend also finished, his hot seed joining the previous man as your walls milked him of every single drop in tight, clenching waves of pleasure.

By the third person, your body is past aching and is not hurting. Pins and needles run up and down your limbs, the rough rope is rubbing against your delicate skin, and you're slightly light-headed due to the position your head is hanging.

The cock filled you completely, lubed by your juices and two other men as it entered you to the brim. Your pussy is throbbing and slightly overstimulated from the orgasms and fucking. The moans are hoarse, jaw aching just as badly as your restrained limbs from being kept open with the ball gag. Your eyemask was damp around the yes from where you’d cried in euphoria. It was all so fucking good but verging on being too much.

With the constant stimulation from whoever was fucking your pussy, it felt like the pulses of your orgasm didn’t want to settle, so you were left with that heightened sensation. But, then, a firm hand was holding yours behind your back, which was an odd sensation due to the pins and needles, but it was your only sign that you were able to be full once more as he breathed out a heavy sigh and came.

The hand he’s holding is released as he eases himself out of you carefully, zipping himself up before whistling to notify the others who enter immediately.

The eye mask is removed first by Sirius, who is now kneeling in front of you. Your eyes are closed, but wetness lines the lashes, which he quickly wipes, cradling your face so he can look at you properly.

“Hey, sweetheart, you with us?” The way he talked so gently to you made your heart beating harder with love, helping you draw your tension away from the pain and to him. Nodding your head, he praised you, delicately kissing the tip of your nose. “You did so good for us; we’re so proud of you. We’re just going to remove your gag and the ropes. We’ll be as careful as we can”.

Nodding your head in understanding, Sirius unbuckles the gag from between your lips, spit coating the plastic. He carefully massages your jaw, helping you to shut it, and you now realise just how dry your throat was as you take a second to try and coat your mouth and swallow a few times to relieve the burn. With the back of his sleeve, Sirius cleans your mouth, chin and throat of any spit that had dribbled out.

Remus and James ease the ropes from your body, starting with your arms. You shout out in pain at feeling the material's roughness, and even though it was nice to have movement back, your joints and muscles were aching, so any movement caused pain. Remus thankfully used his significantly warm hands to massage over the soreness.

“Shh, I know it hurts; we’re going to take you to the prefects bathroom and use the bath in there”, Sirius informs you, still cradling your face and talking through the movements.

As the last of the rope from your ankles is unbound, you were scared you’d roll off the desk and onto the floor and for a second, it felt like you were. But, it was actually Remus who had been tilting your body so that he could scoop you into his arms, your head resting tiredly on his shoulders, ignoring the fact that cum was still seeping out of your hole and onto his arm.

“Throw the cloak over us, will you Padfoot?” Remus asks Sirius, who does as instructed.

“I want to sleep”, you whisper, voice breaking with the effort in doing so.

“You can sleep, we’ll look after you”, Remus reassured.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #harry potter smut #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2023

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