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bruhstories · 15 hours ago

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Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple — throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly.

Still, he examined the picture — your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died.

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break.

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy?

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor.

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back.

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that.

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care?

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect.

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

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pit-and-the-pen · 4 months ago

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Greedy Little Thing

Requested:

Hii just saw your blog for the first time and I'm in love😭😭. Also saw your asks are open and I strongly believe that the needy Az fic deserves a part two with needyyyy reader (begging) please please pleaseeee. We know Az will be brilliant at thissss.

This was so much fun to write. This is really just pure filth.

Technically a part 2 to this request but it’s not required!

Warnings: so much teasing, oral (f receiving), edging/ orgasm denial, some implied cum eating, creampie, p in v sex (18+), dirty talk, praise, Azriel being a little shit.

WC:3.1K

You very rarely got to see your mate dressed up. So used to seeing him in his training leathers that seeing him in anything else had you practically drooling. But seeing him in dress clothes was enough to bring you to your knees, black button down rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants that showed off his glorious thighs and ass. Your mate was hot, more than hot, he was built like a god.

“Did you need something, doll?” He spoke. You realized you had come into the room for something. You were going to tell him something but all thoughts eddied out of your brain the moment you saw him.

“You.” The world tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking. He chuckled lightly as he noticed your stare. And just to tease you, he flexed his arms making the veins pop ever so slightly. You imagined running your tongue over them and heat pooled deep in your belly.

“It seems you’ve forgotten that we have plans tonight.” He was suddenly right in front of you. His finger hooking under your chin to make you look up at him.

“We do?” Your voice was breathless, needy and whiny as you tried to recall where exactly you had to be that would keep you from climbing Azriel like a tree.

“Cassian’s birthday party?” He asked more than spoke. Shit. That was what you had come here for. You needed to know where the wrapping paper went. The fancy thick ones that even Cassian had trouble tearing into.

“What time does it start?” You broke your eyes away from him to peer at the clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past 5.

“Six. And you still need to get dressed.” You felt a pout rise on your face and Azriel’s thumb popped your bottom lip. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. Well it was supposed to be chaste but you got your arms around his neck before he could pull away. Teeth instantly sink into his bottom lip. He groaned and trailed his hands over your waist. He used his grip to pull you away from him, stepping back until your arms were fully extended around his shoulders.

“Keep that up, princess, and we won’t go at all.”

‘Is that a bad thing?”

“Nesta will come get us herself with how much planning she’s done.” You sighed heavily as he stepped out of your hold, your body instantly missing his warmth.

“Go get ready and I’ll finish wrapping his present. Since that’s what you came in here looking for.” The bastard knew the whole time but had wanted to rile you up. Fine. Two can play that game. You spun on your heel and stomped over to the closet.

The dress you picked was one you had just gotten. Intricately cut patterns of fabric that covered just enough to be decent. It wasn’t your usual color, opting to not get it in your favorite sapphire blue but instead a red so dark it was almost purple. It matched your skin tone so wonderfully and brought out the color of your eyes. You left your hair down, letting it flow naturally over your shoulder, covering the exposed skin the dress left. Grabbing the matching heels, you slipped out of the closet and headed to grab the set of bracelets Azriel had recently gotten you.

You struggled to clasp them, holding the delicate chain as it continued to slip out of your grasp. You gave a frustrated noise after the third attempt and went to go find your mate to help you.

“Az.” You called into the house. Not knowing where he was.

“In here.” He answered from his study. The door was opened so you walked in, still holding the bracelet to your wrist. You held it out for him, not even looking up.

“I need your help.” You finally looked at him when you didn’t get a response and felt the surge of lust down the bond. His eyes hungirly roved over your figure. The tight dress clinging to the plush of your breast, your stomach and thighs. He licked his lips as he walked over to you. Azriel took your outstretched wrist with a careful hand and managed to clasp the silver bracelet.

He placed a soft kiss to your pulse point before pulling you against him. A soft grunt leaving you as you crashed against his chest. His free hand rested on the skin of your back, left open with the low cut of the dress.

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He said against the shell of your ear. You fought back a shiver as his breath tickled your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to get ready.” Your words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the smell of your arousal in the air. Azriel peeled his hand away from you to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist.

“Ten minutes.” Was all he said before he knelt down in front of you. Your hands followed him down, clutching onto him and settling on his shoulders. He was quick to sling your leg over his shoulder. Opening you up to him. He ran the tip of his nose along the center of your underwear, drinking in your scent.

“You’re drenched for me, sweetheart.”

“Az-” You mewled as he reached up to tug your panties to the side. Your hands slid into his hair as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit. Teasing the bundle of nerves with feather-light strokes. Your nails dug into his scalp, focusing on the hints of pleasure he was giving you. A breathy “please” leaving your mouth was all it took for him to unleash himself. His pace was merciless, the sounds of his lips on your mingling perfectly with your loud cries. Your legs wobbled slightly and he wrapped an arm around you. Giving you leverage to ride his face, your hips bucking in time with his tongue.

He had you rapidly approaching your peak. Broken version of his name falling over your lips.

“Az I’m gonna-” And right as you felt that clench deep in your stomach, he was pulling away.

A loud cry of outrage left you as you stared down at him. Chest heaving as he placed your foot back down on the ground and stood up to his full height again. He smoothed your dress back into place on your hips, squeezing lightly as he did.

You felt hot all over, pulse thrumming across your skin. Words failed you as Azriel licked his lips, cleaning your glistening arousal off of his face.

“I-I was so close.” You whined, closing your eyes as if trying to will the feeling to come back.

“And maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to wait and not try to tease me like a brat.” He tapped your cheek, a silent request for you to open your eyes. “Now you can be frustrated all night while I decide if I’m going to let you cum.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Please. I’ll be good. Please let me cum.”

He placed a small kiss on your forehead before looking at his watch again. He picked up the present and held an arm out for you. You didn’t hesitate, although a little pouty, to grab it as he winnowed you to the venue Nesta had picked out.

The girls had spared no expense, and it was obvious as you looked around. Cassian normally wasn’t one for big parties but the century birthdays were always a big deal. Nesta had turned the club into an almost intimate setting but the music thumping through the sound system had your pulse skyrocketing again. You felt it everywhere, still so worked up with not being able to cum. Azriel rubbed small circles into your back, encouraging you to relax.

“I’ll get us drinks.” He said as he placed another kiss to the top of your head.

The club was still open to the public tonight, Nesta had just reserved the top floor for Cassian’s party. He would still want to dance with Nesta and she was fully aware of that. You looked around the room for the rest of your friends and quickly spotted them. Cassian's wings sticking out among the crowd. He already had Nesta pulled tight against him. You caught her eye and she pulled away from him with a cat-like smile before she focused on you. You extended the present out to her and she took it to add to the growing pile on one of the tables.

“You made it.” She gave you a smirk that let you know you must not have been as composed as you thought you were. “I’m surprised with you wearing…that.” She covered her laugh as you rolled your eyes.

“Azriel was very insistent on being here on time.” As you looked for your other friends you felt your anger rising. No one else had shown up yet, you and Az being the first other couple here. Frustration overrode the lust still buzzing below your skin until you felt Azriel join your side.

He handed you your drink, suddenly very grateful for the cool glass against your hand.

“How did you convince them to let you decorate?” Azriel asked Nesta who merely shrugged in response.

“I’m persuasive.” She responded and you felt the urge to laugh at the image of her storming into the club managers office and demanding them to let her essentially redo half of the club. You took a deep sip of your drink as the rest of your family slowly started to arrive. Feyre and Rhys first, with a small mountain of gifts. Mor, Emerie and Gwen arrive next. Elain and Lucien after, and even Amren.

Eventually rounds of shots were poured as everyone started to get started for the night. Cassian was glowing with happiness as he danced with Nesta, then Feyre and eventually you. He spun you in a large circle as you tipped your head back laughing. He had gotten better at dancing since being with Nesta, a fact she was very proud of. He had two left feet and no rhythm before he met her.

The song faded into the next and you excused yourself from the dance floor to get another drink. Azriel was right behind you, hands seeming to gravitate towards your waist and back. He had left teasing touches all over skin the entire night and it was enough to have your thighs clenching together as your mind drifted to the unfinished events in his office.

“You seem tense, sweetheart.” His hands going to rest on your shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tight muscles around your neck. You leaned into his touch, biting back a moan at the feeling of him touching you so intimately. He chuckled as he pulled away, a deep frown on your face. He was still riling you up, hours after and it was working perfectly. Your thighs were sticking with your arousal.

“Az, please.” You plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for. For him to stop, for him to pull you into the bathroom of the club and finally finish what he started.

“Behave.” Was all he said as he pulled you to the center of the dance floor, you drink still waiting on the bar top.

He pulled you tight against him as the song shifted to something slower, something more sensual. His hips dug into yours perfectly, meeting you beat for beat. Your hands were digging into the front of his shirt, clutching onto the fabric to stop yourself from melting into a pool at his feet. His hands ghosting along your waist, over your sides, brushing every inch of exposed skin had you panting against him. You pulled him down to meet your lips, a sigh escaping both of you as you did. His hands went to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and he licked into your mouth. Demanding every bit of your attention.

You didn’t realize he had backed you into a corner until you felt the wall behind you. It gave you leverage to grind your hips against him. A small part of you was satisfied as you felt his rock hard length through his pants. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown. He was matching your breathing, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath.

You reached your hand down before he caught your wrist and pulled you away from his waistband.

“I told you to behave.” He growled in your ear. The sound was so perfect it made you want to cry out in frustration. You felt it everywhere. Your toes curl in your heels as you whine.

“Az. You proved your point. I’ll listen.” Your voice is high pitched.

“Look at you, so needy for me. I bet you would let me fuck you right here?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought. He laughed darkly at your response. “You would, wouldn’t you. My little slut, so needy for my cock she’d let me fuck her in a room full of strangers.” He bit the junction between your neck and shoulders had a loud moan falling from your lips.

“Az-” He silenced you with a kiss. Hips driving into yours, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped a leg around his waist, exposing your dripping core to him. He growled low in his chest and you felt the world moving around you.

Next thing you felt was the plush of your large bed underneath you.

“You want me that badly, princess?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his toned chest slowly becoming visible. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry. A small slap to the inside of your thigh had you crying out a yes.

He leaned over you, arms caging in each side of your head. He eyed you up, a smirk plastered on his face as you panted under him. He reached out and flipped you over so you were in his lap. Straddling his hips, your heels hanging off the edge of the bed. Your hand slipped behind you to take them off but his words stopped you.

“Keep them on.” Was all he said before he started trailing kisses over your collarbone, down to the space between your breasts. You wanted the dress off, wiggling your hips to tell him as much. Azriel didn’t hesitate. Hands coming up the zipper of the dress and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He pulled away long enough to slip the scrap of fabric over your head, you arms raising and falling against his chest with a loud smack. He leaned back on his elbows, drinking in your figure. Your skin flushed with need, eyes wide and wild. You leaned down and started placing open mouth kisses on his exposed chest. You went to slide off of his lap before a firm hand stopped you.

“As much as I would love to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me. I want to be inside of you.” You could have cried with relief at the words. But you should have known there would be a catch. He didn’t waste another second before he was slipping inside of you. Hours worth of teasing making it almost too easy for him to fill you. You sniffled as you sunk down completely. Already drunk off the feeling of him.

His hands found themselves on either side of your hips, urging you to move at the pace he set. You own arms hooking around his neck as you pull yourself closer to his chest. YOur head rolled back until you were looking at the ceiling, body bouncing with each thrust as you could do nothing but take everything he gave you.

You felt that coil tightening again in your stomach. Your thighs clenching around his waist, trying to take him deeper.

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you are.”

You could do nothing but cling to him tighter, your moans mingling with his own groans. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding. The bed shook across the floor as he continued to drive his hips against yours, again and again. Your whole body clenched as you were about to tip over the edge and right as you went to cry out for him. He pulled out, flipping you over so you were suddenly under him. You cried out again.

“Az. Please.” He kissed your cheek, trying to sooth you as you reached out for him. He waited a few heartbeats before he lined himself back up with your entrance and pushed in.

“Are you gonna be good?” He asked. You would have said yes to whatever he wanted, anything to let you cum for him. You were nodding, voice horse from the pitch of your moans.

He grabbed your ankles and pushed your thighs up to meet your shoulders, driving his hips with his whole body. You felt every wonderful inch of him this way, could feel how tight your walls were pulling him in. His skin was dewey as a layer of sweat clung to both of you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your legs started to shake. Your body so exhausted already as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him.

“Cum for me, my sweet, beautiful, girl.” He pressed his nose into your shoulder, biting down right as you hit your high. You shuddered in his arms, which tightened around you. Letting you ride out your high as his hips slowed down, grinding against you. It was only a few more moments before he was growling into your ear. HIs hips stilling as he pumped you full of his release. You stayed wrapped around him, basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Body finally relaxing against him. He pulled out of you slowly, your releases spilling out and running down your thigh. Azriel’s eyes went right to the mess between your legs and you saw that glint of hunger that told you the night was only beginning.

He started to trail kisses down your stomach until he laid flat against the bed.

“I think I owe you more than one, princess.” And brought his lips to your folds for the second time tonight.

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jillsandwhichs · 6 months ago

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Crazy girl, even crazier husband

Chapter 3 to RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: Your husband and you go to the movie theatre to watch a new horror movie but this man just can't keep his hands off of you

Status of your guy's relationship in this oneshot: Married

WC: 6.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Zoowee mama there are so many, Making out, Fingering, Tongue licking, P in V, Sorta public sex ?? , No protection, Biting, He fucks you hard in an employee storage room so enjoy :p

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Window's rolled down, music on low, his hand on your thick thigh, your husband was driving you two to the move theatre in town. They were hosting some new random horror movie and the both of you thought it looked interesting, the idea to go on a date and watch it together randomly came up in a conversation last night. He's often times working so going out like this is rare, but whenever it happens, you absolutely cherish it, and so does he.

You could feel his fingers playing with the end of your skirt, occasionally gripping your thigh, his hand even leaving a mark. This is what he'd always do whenever he was driving and you were with him, he'd get you all riled up, all soaked up, and it's tortuous. The way his hand would slide up beneath your skirt was so painful, not literally, but he never even touched you, that made it painful. And half of the time, he doesn't even end up fucking you til way later or he doesn't at all. Such a man sometimes.

He wouldn't even acknowledge how horny you are either, he just knows, he loves making you feel all good inside just you leave you with nothing.

"We're almost there, by the way." You said softly, gazing out the window at the scenery outside. "Good to know, baby, thank you." Leon responded, his fingers trailing up her skirt again, just to simply not do shit. "Jesus Christ." You whispered underneath your breath, praying he wouldn't hear over the music. He was playing some song by Seether, it's all he ever listens to. You swear you know every song and every lyric by heart. Same with Hinder. This man and his early 2000s rock music, you swear.

The view on the way there was pleasant though. Mostly stores and other useless buildings but aside from that, you could spot tall & wide mountains in the distance. They're all able to be hiked too, you and Leon have done it before but in the summer heat, hell no. Luckily, it's autumn, no need to worry about that. Other than the mountains, the sky was gorgeous. That deep orange tint on the horizon was beautiful, it suited the night perfectly.

"What is this movie called again?" "It's called Smile, I don't know, looked creepy as hell." You spoke. "Yeah, yeah, the trailer was fucked." Leon snickered, one hand on the wheel still. "How much cash did you bring?" "Well, I brought my card, so a shit ton." Leon chuckled, "Using me for my money still, I see how it is." "What? You think there was another reason I married you?" You bit your lip, clearly, you were joking. He dug his nails into your thigh, causing your breath shutter. "Be quiet." He hummed, his teasing tone was deadly.

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, he never fails to make you laugh. His humor is great, that's something you two bonded over immediately when you first met. You reminisce on that day often. Ever since, your life has been ultimately changed for the better. Leon was genuinely the light at the end of the tunnel for you, hopefully he feels the same way about you.

Just up a few more blocks was the movie theatre. This one is rather large, it was built more recently too. Only four years ago and it's held up well. When it was first built, you and Leon were still dating, now you're married, time flies by so quickly. The both of you have also been there a couple times before, about four times, each time was so nice. Leon really knows how to treat you. Every single date he takes you out on is special in it's on way. He's a miracle worker.

"Just up here." You whispered out, putting your phone in your little white purse that of course, Leon bought for you. He wasn't a poor man, rather wealthy. You don't know all too much about his job, he'd rather save the details, but from what you do know, he's a federal agent whose under the President, now that's saying something. And it all works out amazingly considering his love language is to spoil you with gifts, dates, travels, etc.. He truly never lets up on spending money on you.

"I know sweetheart." He leered, holding your thigh much more lightly now, his grip more gentle. "I'm praying they have sour patch kids." You snickered, Leon hummed at your comment. He's well aware it's your favorite candy... He's definitely spent hundreds on it. "Figured you'd say that." He snorted, pulling into the theatre parking lot. Surprisingly, it wasn't too packed. To your mental math, there was only ten or eleven vehicles, then again, it was a work night.

"Here we go." Leon grunted at he parked, taking the keys out of the ignition. "Grab my wallet for me, will ya doll?" "Yes babe." You replied, grabbing his wallet as you opened your car side door. Leon got out directly after, walking over to you. "Come here." He held his hand out. You handed him his wallet then grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it as you walked beside him. He was extremely tall, much taller than you. You were under 5'7, he was 6'2, you rather enjoyed the difference.

That instant hit of popcorn was glorious, it smelt like you'd just entered heaven. There was no one else in the lobby besides you and him, and obviously the workers. Not only did it smell so good, the decor was so retro, you loved the style of it. "I always forget how nice this place looks." You said in awe, loving the late '80s feel. "It is pretty." Leon huffed out before pulling his wallet out, "Go pick out whatever you'd like while I get out tickets." Your husband said deeply, pulling his card out.

You smirked at his words. You grabbed his arm and stood up your tippy toes to get to his ear, "Ask for popcorn please." You were sort of shy, you didn't wanna ask the employee yourself, plus you don't even have money to buy it, so. "I will, go on now." Leon chuckled as he then began to speak to the worker. You nodded, letting go of him and walking on over to the candy stand, they had a lot. But of course, your heart desired the sour patch kids the most, you grabbed them with haste.

You know Leon loves peanut M&Ms, he's always snacking on them, you grabbed a single pack of them for him as well. There was also some warheads in singular packaging, you grabbed ten, five for you and five for him, sour candy is your all time fav. You turned around, gazing over at Leon as he paid for you guy's tickets and the popcorn, you were excited for it. You were a foodie at heart, you could eat, and eat, and eat and never ever get tired of it. That's most likely why 80% of the dates you two go on are dinner dates.

Ambling back to your husband, you handed him the candy, your eyes locking on his. "Good, thank you." He smiled down at you, placing the sweets on the counter. "Good girl for getting my M&Ms." He whispered in your heart, his deep voice making your insides twist up like a pretzel, which was ironic due to the fact there were some in the hot food bar. "Heheh." You giggled, locking your arm with his, waiting on the popcorn.

"Your total is 16.20$." The woman behind the counter stated. Leon swiped his card through the machine, signing his signature too to verify the purchase. You grabbed the popcorn and Leon took your guy's candy, sliding the tickets into his back pocket. "Make it quick doll." Leon said from behind you as you began to butter it up. You loved the salty & savory popcorn, you'd drench it in that tangy yellow butter, but there is a point where it's too much.

Leon set his hands on your waist from behind you, his rough thumbs caressing the little sliver of skin showing from your shirt. You were wearing a tight shirt paired with your skirt, it had been awhile since the two of you went out so you thought it was cute. Despite only little bits of your hips showing, he still showed you he loved it. His nails lightly tickled at your midriff, watching you as you fixed up the food for the two of you. "All done?" "Done." You mumbled, turning around, his hands not moving though.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead gently before he then simply pressed his forehead against yours, "You're my everything." He hushly spoke. You were honestly caught of guard but maybe he was just in a lovey dovey mood...? "Love you too." You leered, kissing his lips swiftly, not wanting the employees to feel awkward. "C'mon baby, you know that ain't no kiss." He then gripped your chin, his lips settling upon yours for what felt like an eternity. You felt his tounge briskly swipe against your glossy lips, he could definitely taste the cherry.

He didn't go any further than that, pulling away after a few more seconds, "Let's go." He snickered, slipping his hand down your back as he lead you to the room. "You're so fucking crazy." You smacked his abs through his shirt. "Sorry, I just love you, is that so bad?" He acted sort of oblivious. Once again, he's such a man. "It's sooo bad." You dragged out your wording in a sarcastic manner, earning a titter from him. Making Leon laugh isn't too much of an accomplishment, he'll laugh at cat videos on the web.

"Just through here." Leon pushed the door open. The lights were still on too, proving the movie hasn't begun yet, luckily. There was only a couple other people in there, about five, they were all at the front. "Let's get in the back." Leon stated, gripping your hand firmly, "Why?" "Because I said so, be good and listen." He teased. You felt arousal stream over you when he said that, gosh, he's so good. You climbed up the stairs behind him, your hand still interlocked with his as you did so.

You two sat just a couple rows away from the very back, wanting to at least have a decent view of the massive screen. Leon sat down, then you did. "Here baby." You murmured, pulling the two ice cold water bottles from your purse. "Smooth criminal." He joked, taking his and placing it in it's holder. "Their drinks are more than their popcorn, it's ridiculous." You spat out, setting the popcorn in his lap. "Always making me hold it." "Mhm." You giggled. He glared at you, making your heart beat fast. You knew he was playing around but for odd enough reasons, it turns you the hell on.

You took the sour patch kids bag, ripping it out and setting it on the side of your leg, having it tucked between you and the seat. You'd save your warheads for later. "You gonna eat your candy?" "Maybe later, the popcorn is just fine for now." Leon assured you, taking a couple pieces in his mouth. Understandable. You ate a few pieces of your candy, the taste of them was immaculate, it could never get old.

After ten minutes or so of previews, trailers and commercials, the movie finally began. The lights went dark, setting the mood immensely. You could hardly see Leon's attractive face. "Finally." You uttered beneath your breath, taking some popcorn from his lap and eating it. The buttery, salty taste was too good, you practically moaned while eating it. The title card came on screen, the eerie noise playing in the background really suited the film from what you've seen.

At first, Leon wasn't paying too much attention to you, his eyes glued to the screen, he seemed to be into the movie so far. You tried to be, but that desirable burning feeling deep inside you wasn't doing you any justice. You could feel yourself pulsing, the mere thought of him had your panties soaked. He hasn't even done anything to crazy either, that's how good he is. He's such a dick sometimes. You can't even think about it, it makes you want him more. He can a man be so alluring?

As you snacked on your candy, you nearly lost your breath as you felt his hand slither onto your thigh, just as it was in the car earlier. Each one of his fingers caused an electric wave to course through you. The way they'd slightly lift off of your skin as they squeezed it, it was too much. You could feel as his pinky glided underneath your skirt, seemingly getting closer with his entire hand. "Movie is good so far, yeah?" Leon whispered to you, his hand going fully beneath your skirt now. Curse this man.

You didn't even reply, your body just simply reacted to his advances. You spread your legs open as much as you could in the tight chair, which wasn't too much but Leon definitely liked what you did considering he tightly gripped it, gaining a soft whimper out of you. "Look at how you responsive you are..." He murmured, not even glancing at you, making himself seem like he was just casually watching the film. At this point, you could care less about the fucking movie. You wanted his cock inside you. But maybe... His fingers would have to suffice.

"Finger me." You panted, looking at him, desperation plastered on your beautiful face. Leon didn't listen to your pleas, his pinky finger rubbing over your wet panties. That wasn't good enough, it never would be. You wanted him inside you, you wanted him to feel how wet you were for him. "Look how wet I am baby." You muttered. "Mmm, I can feel princess." He grunted, his entire hand planting itself onto your cunt through your undergarments, you whimpered quietly, needing to keep the act up.

"Please..." You gripped his arm. Leon sighed heavily, his eyes leaving the screen, his eyes locking on yours as he gandered down your body, taking the sight in. "So needy." He teased you. "You gonna stay quiet?" "Yes, I promise, please." You begged of your husband, your eyes never leaving his. "Don't make a single noise." He huffed out deeply, his voice husky. He pulled your dripping panties to the side, his index finger gliding through your wetness, causing you to sigh softly, not making a noise though. "Mmm." You murmured, resting your head against his fit arm.

His index finger continues to pick up your wetness, you could hear him sigh once more, "Fuck." He muttered, the sound of your sopping cunt was so fucking good to him. His fingers made their way to your nub, beginning to rub it with ease, a surge of pleasure bursting in your tummy as he did this. He made small yet fast circles on your clit, earning some subtle noises out of you ; Luckily, he didn't hear, the movie was starting to up itself in volume, good for you two.

"Does that feel good?" Leon purred out to you, his eyes shooting over to gaze at you, his eyes in a trance as he watched your face contort just by his touch. "Mhm." You moaned out hushly, your arms wrapped around his fit arm. "Good girl." He whispered, his fingers slapping your clit as they then went back down your slit, your wetness was practically dripping down your ass and onto the seat, sorry to the worker who'll have to clean your mess up...

His finger went all the way down before he then stuck it inside of you, your tightness grasping around it. Leon chuckled at how tight you were, you never fail to amaze him. He pumped his finger in & out of you, so moderately. "Gotta stay silent, remember that." Leon teased you, his thumb going to your clit, now fingering & rubbing you. This two in one deal was going to be the end of you. "Jesus..." You whimpered, your teeth sinking into his arm, causing him to only thrust his finger into you faster.

Your wetness was louder now, each time his finger went back into you, it sounded like a lemon being squeezed. You love biting Leon, he loves it too. One thing Leon especially loves is when he's fucking you, he's right on top of you, making you lose your sense of reality then you just bite down on his bulk shoulder. Gosh, he loves when you do that to him. His entire finger was drenched in your fluids, it was shining due to the bright lights emitting from the ginormous screen projector.

"Keep it quiet sweetheart." He whispered, a light snicker playing off his tongue. He was such an ass. He knows you can't be silent for much longer. He's bringing you closer and closer and closer to the edge. You fear if he keeps going at this rate, you'll cum and scream his name, like always. "It's so- so hard." You stuttered, your nails digging into his forearm fiercely. "Oh, you can do it." Leon praised you, he knows you can't.

As his singular finger continued it's work, you clenched around him even more as he slid another one in, this time curling each finger with every pump. No one in the theatre had noticed, surprisingly. All of them were mindless souls indulged in the film. You also really wanted to watch the movie, but fuck this was so much more needed than to watch some stupid horror flick. His thumb continued to rub your nub, the most sensitive nerve causing your brain to lose track of itself and your stomach to do flips like it's a gymnast.

"Leon... Baby..." You panted out, your hair getting messy from how much you've been tossing and turning your head. He didn't reply. His face was staring directly in front of him, acting all innocent, no one would suspect a thing... Yet he was finger fucking you, making your pussy clench around his fingers more tightly than ever before. His thumb was stroking your clit with pace, he was relentless on it. It was as if he was trying to gain a rise out of you and knowing him, he definitely was.

"Seriously." You whined, pressing your forehead against his upper arm. This man was going to be the fucking death of you.

"What is it?" He calmly said, still not looking at you whatsoever. "Fingers aren't enough, fuck me, I don't care about the stupid movie anymore." You said with an seductive tone. "Fingers aren't enough, huh?" He chortled as he began to finger fuck you at light speed. You instantly closed your legs, stopping all of his movements. "Don't." You squeaked, removing his hand from between your legs. Leon giggled, his hand gripping ahold of your cheeks sternly as he forced you to look up at him.

"You need me to fuck you?" "Yes baby, please." You mooched off your husband. You needed him and you need him at this current moment in time. "Well, where do you want to be fucked? In here? Where anyone could possibly see? In the restroom? In the car-?" "Let's find somewhere, please." You stated loud and clear, fixing your panties and skirt. Leon get go of your face. "Mmm, lead the way gorgeous." He held your hand, following behind you now. It felt powerful to take charge, to tell him this is what you want.

You both jogged down the stairs but acted as normal as possible, acting as if Leon wasn't just feeding into your dirty needs. Pushing open the wooden doors, you looked around and only saw a bathroom and other doors leading to another theatre area. Leon gripped your hand tighter, trying to indicate something to you. You spun around, looking back at the door behind you. "That's an employees only room!" "I doubt anyone is in here, c'mon." Leon laughed quietly.

He wrapped his hand around the knob, twisting it and pushing the door open. All that was in there was a table, some random movie posters and a counter, probably a type of break room. "Dammit, come here." Leon expired, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. He lessened the space between the two of you as he smashed his needy lips against yours, his moving against yours in a passionate make-out.

Your arms went to his shoulders, holding onto them with care as you set your entire body against his. There was absolutely no stopping between kisses, it was constant. Heavy breathing and kisses were all that could be heard. Leon's hands went from your hips and down to your ass, gripping it hard as he licked your bottom lip, so badly wanting entry. You, of course, granted him exactly that. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed your ass, slapping it too, he tried to keep it down though. This is technically illegal, so...

As you two made out sexually, he pushed you up against the wall, his hands still beneath your skirt, going from playing with your rear and pussy repeatedly. You'd randomly feel his fingers against your clit for short periods of time. Your nails scratched into his shoulders, you were so into this. Your sense of relief was this. He knew what to do and how to do it to you. Leon's tongue swiped against yours, his practically engulfing yours. He loves doing this.

You slightly stuck your tongue out mid kiss, Leon immediately jumped at the opportunity. He swiped his tounge along yours so deliberately, the sensual texture of it causing your pussy to literally drip more than it was before. Leon then grabbed your chin, tilting it to get a better angle. His entire tongue licked yours, then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling. Your moved your hands from his face and down to his waist, holding onto his shirt for what felt like dear life.

After sucking on your tounge for a few seconds, he pulled away swiftly, pecking you once more and now kissing down your precise jawline. You tipped your head back, allowing him to gain more access. His kisses were so slow and gentle, he really took his time. His heavy breathing was so sexy, it showed how much he needed you. He truly yearned for your presence, your touch, your everything. "You smell amazing." Leon breathed in, giving the end of your jawline a quick nibble. You giggled, kissing his cheek before going back to the same position as before.

Leon smooched down your throat, relishing in your perfume and it's enticing smell. "Mmm, what scent babygirl?" "Honestly..." You began, "I don't fucking know." You chuckled, earning a snicker from him. He licked from the top of your neck and all the way down, leaving a strip of saliva just there. He kissed all along the strip, you couldn't help but whimper, each kiss and every lick was to die for. You couldn't get enough of him. Leon groaned, his hands holding your ass - He couldn't get enough of you.

Making his way down to the middle of your neck, his hot breath sat on that same spot for a few moments before you felt that painfully pleasing feeling of his teeth lightly sinking into your skin. "Fuck." You moaned, your nails sunk into his slim waist. You felt his tongue going erratic on your neck as he continued to bite you. "Leon..." You soughed out, tilting your head to the side even further, wanting him to leave more love bites on you.

Heading you call his name, he pulled away from your neck, he gave you a fast peck before pressing his forehead against yours. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Leon panted, his right hand on the side of your neck where he was just feasting upon you seconds ago. "You make me feel so good." "Yeah?" "Make me feel even better." You whispered, your arms now encasing around his neck, embracing him closely. "Oh babygirl." Leon sighed out, caressing your neck carefully. "I'll make you feel just fine."

Your husband turned around, scanning the room. "Lay down on that table." He snickered, stepping away from you. "Okay..." You giggled, walking over to it. You pulled yourself up onto it, sitting with your feet dangling off. "Lay back baby." Leon hummed out to you, his voice soft. You obliged, laying all the way on your back, your legs bent upwards on the table. You angled your head so you'd be able to watch him. He unbuttoned his black pants, allowing them to drop along with his underwear, revealing his hard cock.

You bit your lip with a giggle. You get so giddy seeing him this way, he's so sexy. "Don't look at me like that." Leon chuckled, placing both of his hands on each one of your knees. "I'll look at you however I'd like." "Oh? Is that so?" "Mhm." You cockily mumbled, placing your feet on his chest. Leon's large hands wrapped around your ankles, rubbing them lovingly as he stared you down. His eyes were lustful, darkness bursting in his iris's. "Look at you." Leon whispered, taking both of your socks off, setting them to the side. "What?" You sighed deeply, your cunt pulsing at his cooing tone.

Bringing one of your feet up to his face, he placed a kiss on the side of it, then on the other one. You weren't into all that feet stuff, neither was he, but Leon will and does kiss you absolutely everywhere. He set your feet back down. Leon's hands went towards your waist, holding onto it firmly as he quickly pulled you down the table, earning a surprised gasp from you. "A warning next time?" You scoffed. "No." Leon responded sternly, being playful with you, per usual.

His fingers trailed up to your panties, locking them into the waistband of them. "I'm so wet." "I know honey, so wet for me, hm?" Leon whispered seductively, never breaking eye contact with you as he pulled your cute white panties all the way off, taking them off of your ankles afterwards. You spread your legs widely for him, the entire view of your core at his service. It was like he was trying to make it not look obvious, but it was so clear he was gazing at you down there. "So beautiful." Leon complimented you, you were his wife after all.

Grabbing his erection, Leon jerked it a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you, only breaking it for a tiny bit to look down at himself. "You have me fucking pulsing." Leon grunted, wasting no time as he swiped his dick through your wetness. You moaned, staring up at him, his tip would stroke over your clit and make your center have an even bigger heartbeat, that's how it felt at least. "I love how I make you get." Leon continued. "All wet, needy, clingy... You're so pretty." Leon shared, kissing your knee again.

You nodded in reply, he was right, he does manage to make you feel all of those ways. "Yeah..." You muttered out.

Without zero warning, you felt him plunge into you with haste, his entire length being grasped around your warm heat. You felt your stomach twist and turn when he did this, it gained a whimper from you, a rowdy one. "Holy shit." You panted out, like a dog on a hot summer day. "Can't wait any longer." Leon cackled, his hands on your hips as he started his movements. Each thrust was life altering. It felt like you were in Heaven with what he was doing. His mouth was sort of open, you could hear his quiet gasps, you were making him feel a type of way too.

You held onto his wrists for stability as he fucked you, his thrusts were causing the entire table to shake, you didn't want it to break or something. "What if a worker hears us? Sees us?" "Well, they'll see a woman being fucked real good by her husband." Leon replied. Could he ever not be snarky? You rolled your eyes, looking to the side, your face contorting as you felt his member reach deeper inside of you. "Don't roll your eyes at me, doll." Leon stated, his hands still on your midriff.

You never looked back at him, your eyes were stained on the other side of the room. Not that you didn't wanna look at him, you just know it'll make you cum sooner, and even make him as well, and you really want to draw this out. His cock moved in and out of you repeatedly, he switched up the pace every other second. One moment he was fast & rough and the other he took it slow & deep. Both ways made your heart beat faster and faster each time.

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Leon groaned out, his left hand groping your tit through your shirt, squeezing it. You didn't answer, you couldn't, you knew if you tried speaking your speech would only be slurred. "Look at me." You didn't listen. You just held onto his arms with more strength, indicating you were going to lose yourself sooner or later.

Although, next thing you know, he stopped thrusting into you. This ticked you off but before you could get a damn word out, you felt the hand that was once on your breast, now pulling your face to face him. "I suggest you start listening." Leon brought himself down closer to you, his body over yours. You nodded your head leisurely, licking your lip, then biting it. His demands were music to your ears. His movements picked up again, but he forced you to look at him. Something about staring down at you as he made you feel certain ways was so convincing.

After a minute, he let go of your face, trusting you'll listen to him now. His hands rested on either side of your head, his dick still surging into your pretty pussy. You felt like there was an imaginary percentage bar of how long it'll take before your orgasm implodes on you, and with each pump, it fills that bar slowly yet surely. "Fucking hell you're so beautiful." Leon moaned, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, his breath could be felt there. "You're so handsome." You added, your hand going up to his hair, playing with it.

You had a feeling he was going to do it, but once he did, it made your core tighten even more than before. His teeth once again made their way into your neck, he bit down on it. "Leon..." You grunted out, your fingers flowing through his soft hair. His thrusts were more slow & deep now, as if he was getting tired or something. It was either that or he was trying savour this special time together. "I'm gonna cum soon." You admitted, your arms going around his head, holding him close to your body.

Leon didn't say a word, he just nibbled on your throat, kissing & licking it every so often. That sharp sting of his teeth was erotic, it made your stomach get closer and closer to granting you that ultimate pleasure - your climax. "Baby... Harder..." You begged, letting go of him and instead grasping the white table underneath you. Once more, hit nibbled your neck, then your slender shoulders, before his face pulled back, going to stare at you again. "Harder?" Leon questioned, his moments all the same. "Yes, please." You tittered, your body so heated up.

Your husband did what he does best - please you. He began to fuck you, it wasn't anything vanilla, no, this was hard. Each thrust was rougher and rougher. Your eyes looked up into his, you could feel that they were watery, you looked innocent, like a doe in front of headlights. Leon looked back at you, his eyes much different. They are loving, yes, but also sexual desire was all behind them, his eyebrows also added onto the darkness of his face. "Don't look at me like that." The man grunted, closing his eyes as he pumped into your tight center.

"No, no, look at me, Leon." You reached up, holding onto his face. Now it was his turn. Leon slowly opened his eyes again, much more coherent than you were earlier. "Yeah..." You murmured, your hands caressing his scruffy cheeks.

Coming onto you was your orgasm, your initial release. You could feel how close you were, each thrust only brought you more and more to the edge. With his dick twitching inside you, you knew he was close to cumming as well. Your stomach was providing you with that all familiar feeling - The feeling of ultimate pleasure. Each time he fucked into you, your breasts would bounce, now that he was going much harder, they didn't get a break. Both of Leon's hands held onto your tits, he continuously squeezed them, he was like a teenage boy with how he was about boobs.

Leon gandered back up from your breasts and back at you, he never realized you were still staring at him. This, oh, it sent him over the edge. Your water colored eyes were like a death trap for him ; In this case, a sexual trap. "Fuck, why do you do this to me..." He grunted as he pumped only a couple more times into your cunt, his seed filling you, you felt the warm liquid shoot inside. "Why would you look at me like that?" Leon moaned, moving into you with short, fast thrusts, wanting to get you finished too.

You didn't reply, instead you just pulled his face down to yours, pressing your lips to his. Leon breathed out against your face, kissing you back passionately. You held the back of his head & neck, relishing in this moment. "Oh I love you." You moaned. "I love you too babygirl." He grunted, his cock still deep inside of you. "Cum for me princess." Leon began, "Have your pussy tighten around me." He stated, his voice husk.

Your breath shuttered when he spoke like that. He was so hot, every word he spoke made you feel all sorts of ways. You couldn't help it, even though you wanted to. You kept your lips against his, your tongue intertwined with his as you suctioned his length inside of you. Your orgasm withdrew you from the real world, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head, surprised you couldn't see your own damn brain. "That's what I like to see." Leon paused his movements, just admiring his wife as she came all around him.

Both of you just sat there, your body felt super limp, you could feel his cock was soft inside of you. Everytime you guy's finish making love, it's like this. It's like the two of you are at a loss for words. You were still wet, you definitely needed to clean yourself up. You looked around the room, analyzing it. There was a paper towel dispenser by the sink on the other side of the room. "Could you please grab me some of that." You asked your husband. "Sure thing." He sighed gently, pulling out of you and heading over there.

Leon snatched up a few pieces of the towel, bringing it over to you. He didn't hand you them, instead he cleaned you up himself. You just watched him, heaving softly whilst doing so. He was a great husband. "Thank you baby." "Course doll." Leon replied kissing your inner thigh before helping you get back on your feet. "I'm not wearing these." You giggled, setting your panties aside. "Give them to me." He held his hand out. You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him your soaked underwear.

Your eyes widened as he sniffed them, the scent wearing off of them drove him crazy. As he pulled his own pants back up, he tucked your panties into his pocket. "Don't move around to much, I don't need your ass or pussy being flashed to the world." Leon chuckled, adjusting your shirt, you nodded in reply. He was right. "Let's go finish whatever time we have left of the movie." Leon whispered to you, his hand on your cheek firmly as he kissed you once more before the both of you made way back.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil smut #smutshot #smutshot collection #re vendetta #tumblr fyp

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solarsturniolo · 11 months ago

Note

can you do sub chris or abc’s (maybe vibrator involved ?)

Sub!Chris Headcanons

Warnings: Sex / Cursing / mentions of overstimulation / p in v / no protection / sub!chris / use of toys /

Disclaimer!!!: This is just my opinion on what chris would be like if he was submissive. None of this is factual.

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chris @tillies33ssss @myanacondadoes8108 @luvsturniolo05 @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo

Although Chris loves being dominant in the bedroom, he adores being taken care of, especially on those long days after numerous back to back meetings and creating content.

He’s easy to get into that headspace too. A simple shoulder and back rub will relax him, at which point he won’t even want to be dominant anymore. He just loves being cared for and getting the princess treatment from you.

He doesn’t like handcuffs or restraints, he likes being able to touch you. On the rare occasion that he does let you use them on him, he’s tugging on them and whining the whole time, begging to be let out. He can’t stand having you so close to him and not being able to touch and feel you.

He spends an ungodly amount of time on your chest. Touching them, massaging them, kissing them, sucking on them, marking them…he loves to hear the sounds you make while he takes his time with you.

Chris is always open to trying new things, so he wasn’t opposed to the idea of using a vibrator. He knew it made you feel good, so he had no real reason to deny trying it.

He may have ended up liking it a little too much though. He won’t even ask, he’ll grab it from the bedside drawer himself. Whether he’s in control and using it on you, or letting you use it on him until he’s sweaty and writhing in the sheets, Chris loves the way it enhances both his and your pleasure.

He’s vocal in bed normally, but even more so when he’s not in control. Something about the power being out of his hands drives him crazy and he’s not afraid or ashamed to make that known to you.

“F-Fuck, it feels so good. O-Oh my god, yea please don’t stop. I-It feels s-so good, I-I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum, p-please. F-Fuck, I’m such a m-messy boy, I-I’m gonna make s-such a mess. P-Please, can I cum? Please i’ve been such a good boy for you, m-my balls are s-so full, p-please. W-Wanna empty them in you, f-fuck.”

He tends to ramble the closer to his orgasm that he gets. It starts pretty light, just soft moans and whimpers with a few pleas thrown in the mix. But once he feels the warmth growing in the pit of his stomach, he can’t help himself. Any and everything he’s thinking is free game.

“W-Wanna fill you up, baby. P-Please, I’ve been a good boy for you. Did everything you asked me to. Y-You feel so good, please don’t make me pull out. F-Fuck, i’m begging you. I-I-Im a good boy, I-Im your good messy boy. P-Please, wanna make a mess all up in your guts.”

And not to mention he looks so pretty laying back on the bed, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, his lips parted as he pants and moans each time you sink down onto his cock. His eyes can barely stay open, eyelids hooded, determined to still watch you and admire you as you take care of him. His cheeks and ears flushed with a bright rosy tint, some of the color even showing on his chest from just how hard he was blushing.

Chris LOVES the sex, but he almost loves the aftercare more. The way you hold him while he clings to you, his head buried in your chest, panting as his body jolts with aftershocks. Your soft tender kisses on his head as his hips buck, burying his cock as far into you as he can. Your sweet whispers of praise in his ear, fingernails gently running along his back to soothe his tense muscles.

When he snaps out of it, he tries to take care of you and clean you up, but you insist that he doesn’t have to worry about it. You were there to soothe him after his intense performance, just like he always was there to take care of you when he’s in control.

Some nights you stay like that for a while, bodies together and joined at your most intimate parts. But some nights that are more intense than others you’ll run a bath for the both of you. He loves feeling you behind him, massaging his tense shoulders and working the knots out of his back. Baths with you are one of his happy places. For a moment the world stops, there’s no bad. He can relax, he can breathe, he can just be.

You take a generous amount of time focusing on washing his hair, knowing how much he enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Your nails massaging his scalp is enough to make him nearly fall asleep in your arms.

Once you’re both ready for bed, Chris will lay next to you and wait (im)patiently for you to ask if he’d like to cuddle. Chris enjoys being the little spoon, so he’ll roll over and wait to feel your arms gently wrap around him. He just adores being babied by you. He’ll whisper soft words to you, wishing you a goodnight while he kisses your knuckles.

In conclusion, Chris is baby. Argue with the wall

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo headcanon #hcs #headcanon #i am unwell #help #he’s so babygirl

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locomoqo · 2 months ago

Note

Since there's only 1 taehoon fic on your blog..

how about taehoon fucking us while wearing the dobok😧??

(LOVE YOUR WRITES I HOPE THERE'S MORE VIRAL HIT FICS COMING SOON💥💥)

fantasize

— taehoon seong x reader

details: NSFW CONTENT, fem bodied reader, fingering, p in v, protected sex, clothed sex (?)

A/N: i swear im going to post more viral hit fics soon trust

Something about seeing him in his dobok, especially when he's training, has you completely transfixed. The way the fabric fits just right, the focus in his eyes, the tension in his arms as he practices his forms—it's enough to make you lose your train of thought entirely.

And he's caught you admiring him in his uniform on more than one occasion.

The first time—you didn't even realize you were staring that hard. Snapped out of your daze by Taehoon’s voice, you blink as he crosses his arms, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “You even listening?” he scoffs, his expression showing that typical impatience.

“Uh… yes, I'm listening,” you quickly insist, dragging your gaze upward to actually meet his eyes. But you know you're not fooling him.

“What was I saying then?”

“Um… this and that?”

“Knew it. You weren't listening to a single thing I was saying.” He’s clearly annoyed, but you’re too flustered to even defend yourself. Well, how could you be expected to concentrate when he looks that good?

Still, Taehoon isn’t one to let you off easy. He frowns, more annoyed that your attention isn't where he wants it to be. After all, you’re supposed to be here learning taekwondo (like you asked to), doing your stretches properly, not zoning out. Without warning, his hand presses gently on your back, encouraging you to bend deeper into a stretch. “Focus,” he chides, irritation in his voice, and you let out a surprised squeal.

“Wait, wait!” you protest, but he only rolls his eyes. “If you spent less time gawking and more time practicing, you’d be way better at this by now,” he mutters, and you can’t even deny it.

But you keep sneaking glances at him. Even when you're trying to behave, it's impossible not to notice the way he moves or the serious expression on his face when he's in training mode. He’s used to you looking at him with that soft, adoring expression, but there’s something about the way you look at him during these moments that’s different.

He eventually puts two and two together.

One afternoon, while you’re both tangled up in each other during a heated make-out session that’s on the brink of something more, he pauses to take off his uniform. You grab his wrist and, breathless, say, “No, it's fine… keep it on.”

Taehoon stills, realization dawning in his eyes. The way he glares down at you, almost incredulous, makes your face heat up. “Oh,” he says, his voice low and laced with newfound amusement. “So that’s why you keep staring at me like that.”

You squirm under his knowing gaze, the embarrassment hitting you hard. He smirks, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in that rare, playful way. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, but there's a hint of satisfaction there too. He finally understands why you’ve been so distracted—and he’s definitely going to use it to his advantage.

“You just like seeing me wearing this,” he scoffs, pulling you back into a kiss. Your fingers trail down his toned front, curling around the waistband of his pants. He pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands holding you firmly in place.

A soft moan escapes your lips as you tilt your head to give him more space. One of his hands moves from your thigh to your waist, trailing teasingly along your clothed cunt. “Makes me wonder just how wet you get seeing me like this,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Don’t rub it in,” you mumble, your voice laced with embarrassment.

“Nah, this is all on you,” he chuckles, sliding those slender fingers past your defenses. You gasp at the sensation, leaning toward him while clutching the sturdy fabric of his uniform. His fingers slide in and out slowly, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he watches your struggle for more. “Quit teasing…” you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“You’re demandin’ a lot from me today, huh?” he taunts, fingers stilling momentarily. “First, you get all handsy with me.”

He withdraws his touch, swiftly pinning you down onto the bed. “Then, you ask me to fuck you in my dobok,” he accuses, voice teasing yet full of intent. His fingers find you again, sliding inside as he pins your wrists above your head. His middle and ring fingers curl perfectly into your gummy walls, making your legs reflexively try to close around him. But he’s already prepared for that, using his knee to keep you open.

“And now, you think you can tell me what to do?” His eyes narrow with a slightly sadistic smile. Oh, that’s how you know he’s going to be mean with your body this time around.

Moving his fingers ruthlessly that in no time you can hear the lewd squelching coming from your pussy. “‘m sorry! ah! Tae—‘m s-sorry!” you whine and moan as his fingers work you over, his palm grinding against your clit that has your hips twitch uncontrollably. It’s embarrassingly easy for him to make you cum on his fingers just like that, leaving you breathless.

“I’ll give you what you want, then,” he mutters, reaching into your side drawer. He knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—this isn’t your first time together, after all. He tears open the condom wrapper, pulling down his pants just enough to free himself before sliding the rubber on. He doesn’t even need lube; your wetness mixed with your juices makes it effortless for him to push into you, drawing a moan from your lips. Your nails dig into the skin of his hand still pinning your wrists down.

You can’t help but admire just how good he looks like this. The way his dobok hangs loosely over his frame, the slight furrow in his brows as he gives you a moment to adjust. Of course, he catches your gaze and smirks. “You’ve got a reaaal bad staring problem,” he mutters, his eyes shifting back to where he’s buried inside you. He starts moving at a pace that isn’t slow but not fast either, but knowing him, it’ll only get faster later on anyway.

He knows exactly how to hit all the right spots, what makes you whimper and clench around him. How to make you come apart so easily, like it’s second nature to him. The sensation pulls a breathy moan from your lips, and his grip on your wrists tightens slightly.

“You like that?” he asks, voice low and gravelly, though it’s less of a question and more of a tease. He smirks when your only response is a strangled moan, your back arching involuntarily.

His free hand finds your waist, fingers digging into your skin to hold you still as he increases his pace. The heady tempo makes it hard to think, his dobok brushes against your exposed skin with every thrust, the fabric a tantalizing reminder of why this was happening. It isn’t long until you’re both chasing that sweet release, a mix of grunts and moans.

Once you do, you both stay like that for a moment. After a minute or two, he leans down into your ear. “Should I start training in my tank top and some sweats next time, so you don’t get distracted?” he murmurs, a hint of a chuckle breaking through.

#taehoon seong x reader #taehoon x reader #taehoon seong #viral hit webtoon #viral hit #how to fight #how to fight manhwa #how to fight x reader #how to fight smut #viral hit x reader #taehoon seong how to fight #taehoon seong htf #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #taehun seong x reader #taehun seong htf

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ronearoundblindly · 1 month ago

Note

What are you thoughts on the Cevans characters (+ Bucky hehe) on giving & receiving oral? Who’s more into what, like which role do they prefer. Are any of them not into it at all? Do any of them like it more than actual sex?

Your takes on the Cevans characters are always so accurate 🥰🎀 Luv your blog <3

Ohhhhhh nessie. So spicy. So 😙🤌. Let's GO!

Warnings for, yeah, discussion of oral (both m and f receiving) with some references to other sexual acts for comparison, etc. We got there this time, gang, like all the way to hell...

Andy Barber

Into both but not his fave. Since Andy wasn't originally in my list of characters (and thus never got a favorite sex position), I'll tell you now that Mr. Barber is more of a face-to-face and hands-on lover. He enjoys a blowjob, sure, and he's by no means against going down on you, but his hands like to grope and wander more than those allow.

Ari Levinson

Really into both. Wow, just, really really into both. Can't say he enjoys it "more" than actual sex, but ohhh fuck it's close. Ari is a roar-as-he-comes-down-your-throat type of guy. He definitely is sloppy on you, not afraid to soak his beard before you even peak. I stand by my headcanon that Ari doesn't like his hair pulled though. He understands it'll happen sometimes, but he will move if you keep tugging hard. Much happier if you leave scratches across his shoulders instead.

Also, Ari strikes me as a man who would enjoy road head or pull over to go down on you if he's horny or bored or just because. I don't have a reason for that, but it's true. The end.

Curtis Everett

He's a giver 100%. Curtis isn't *against* getting a blowjob, but he can't enjoy it much if you aren't really into giving, too.

Maybe TMI, idk, but I also get the impression that Curtis really adds a lot of his tongue thrusting into you during the act. No reasoning, just vibes. He wants to actually fuck you with his face.

Jake Jensen

Whiny and needs practice but he appreciates both ways. Jake needs you to verbally tell him what to do and what feels good, so for a while at least, some of the fun is taken away from that. He also needs the practice not blowing his load about 30 seconds after your lips get on him. That visual--you kneeling or bent over trying to fit him in your mouth--just...does him in so fast.

Jimmy Dobyne

Nope, not really. Surprisingly, he has the skill to make you come without having to do it a lot, but Jimmy still crawls up under your skirt rarely. It's like The Best present when he does. Like, who the fuck did he practice this on to the point of expertise??? Makes no sense, but I'm telling you, Jimmy is the secret munch of the bunch. He'll let you go down on him, but he won't be the one to suggest it. That's purely up to you.

Johnny Storm

Eh--little here, little there. He enjoys the riskiness of oral in semi-public places more than p-in-v sex. Johnny is DTF always...mostly, so nothing is off the table...and he's fine being on the table, just for reference.

Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd is more of a receiver and a giant tease for going down on you. He talks a good game, and you'd think with the mustache that he's practically been groomed to be sat on. However, Lloyd likes to be smug as hell, telling you he'll take care of you but he just needs to unwind after his day. He doesn't really intend to put in much effort because Lloyd is good enough with his fingers and dick. He gets away with avoiding it.

James Mace

Similar to Andy for different reasons: he's into both but neither is his fave. Mace likes a lot of things a little bit. Every position is on rotation. He doesn't want you to get bored, or worse, to be boring, so Mace plays around constantly. Yes, you two still fuck in the bedroom 'the most,' but that's not from lack of other variety.

Ransom Drysdale

Mostly a receiver but in a less controlling way than Lloyd. He uses his tongue as torture on you, i.e. Ran has no intention of bringing you to climax and he wants for you to beg. He wants you to prefer fucking him. Ransom is too lazy for this to be a regular thing he has to do.

Now, again, don't ask me why but I truly believe Ran gets a kick out of choking you on his dick. There's a distinction here, though, because Lloyd enjoys watching you struggle to take him in your mouth while Ransom purposefully thrusts to choke you. It's not prolonged. It's just a kink he likes.

Steve Rogers

Will eat you out at the drop of a hat but thinks a blowjob is degrading to you. Steve has a very traditional notion of respect for the people he loves...and, no, he doesn't see the hypocrisy in that. His excuse is that he likes his mouth all over you, down there no different than anywhere else 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Bucky Barnes

Oh, fuck yeah.

What's there to expand on? Bucky 100% loves to watch you worship his body and loves to worship yours. This dude may have some social and professional hangups, but sex hasn't changed much since the '30s. Anatomy (more or less) is anatomy, and at least all of his romance bits are the same.

Does he prefer giving or receiving? It's pretty equal. You both go gaga over the other dressing up fancy...or dressing down...or when you're dressing...or, ya know, not dressed. Basically, it's just a 'yes.'

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm

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gingernut1314 · 1 year ago

Text

Confidence: Sanji

Sanji x F!Reader

Summary: Sanji is taken with you from the moment he lays eyes on you at the beach. And when you come up to him at the small tiki bar, flirty and all so confident, he can't help but become fully enamored with you. You hitch a ride with the Straw Hat crew and grow ever closer to their chef, but will you let go of all the things that keep you from giving in to his enamored feelings for you?

Warnings: tiniest bit of angst, some fluff, some alcohol use, mild talk of age difference (like mild, mild--also everyone in this fic is 18+), smut (p in v, oral (f!reader receiving))

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Here is the first part of the four-part, requested mini-series I couldn't just keep sort and sweet lol

(@fanaticsnail I couldn't help but add in his tongue piercing cause you've brought it to my attention and I can't not unsee it and I need it in my lifeee!!)

↞ to Confidence Masterlist and original request | to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

It doesn’t take much to get Sanji falling head over heels for you.

A beautiful lady in a bikini all stretched out over a beach towel for all to see??

He’s dying to know you in an instant--to wine and dine you with a meal prepared just for your delicate and, obviously, refined taste buds.

He hasn’t even spoken a word to you and he is imagining his life with you by his side.

His crew mates are less than love-struck.

They grumbled and repairman him before Nami was grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, dragging him away from your beauty. A beauty which shone as bright as the sun you bathed in. Shone maybe even more so bright than the sun.

Your attention was pulled away from your book upon hearing a forlorned shout, looking up just in time to watch a flash of sandy hair and black fabric disappear into the seaside town. You gave a little shrugging humph before returning to your romance novel.

That night, you made your way into the tiki bar that boarded the beach you had reluctantly left once the sun had set, it a crowded mess of tourists visiting from the other side of the island and locals of this town.

You weren’t local, neither from the town or the island it was on, but had been here long enough to learn a few names and have a few learn yours.

You were a traveler. Someone whose broken heart drove you from your home in the South Blue to brave that of the Grand Line.

It was a feat you were proud of in itself, having made it with no harm to your person and with just a few less berries to your name. A few thousand barries you had paid a pirate crew to bring you here, only for them to leave you stranded on this island, whose people never left and never had any reason to sail the seas.

“Pirates.” Was the first thing the bartender you had gotten to know all too well said.

Pirates. It was very rare anyone came to this island, let alone pirates. So rare that the last time a pirate had stepped foot on this island, it had been to dump you here.

That had been a year ago.

He pointed out two standing at the other side of the bar, one green-haired and brooding while the other was blond and flirting up a storm with Mia, the second bartender, who smiled and nodded at whatever he was saying.

The rest of them sat by the back of the tiki bar, waiting for their friends. Two were a constant stream of words and bouncing energy, while the girl looked very much unamused at their shenanigans.

They were too--young. Too happy looking. Too un-pillagey. Very un-pirate like in your opinion and experience.

You took your chances with the two at the bar, thinking the green-haired one looked the most captain-y.

You grabbed your drink before walking over to the two, running a hand over the blond’s broad shoulders and leaning against the bar next to him in one fluid motion. You pulled your most playful and flirtatious smile on your lips, taking hold of the curly straw in your drink as he stopped his conversations with Mia to look upon you with sea-blue eyes, one of which hid behind a lock of his blond hair.

“Hello, handsome.” You all but purred up at him. He stared down at you in something like shock. Shock that quickly turned excited and, if you weren’t just seeing things, all but enamored.

Sanji was enamored by you. By your bright smile and voice and utter confidence as you stood next to him. A confidence he gravitated towards like you were the center of his universe.

“It’s you,” Sanji said, his breathy voice accented in a way you adored. “Such a beauty I had thought lost to me.” He continued, taking hold of your hand in his own.

“We’ve met?” You questioned, watching as he placed a soft, warm kiss on your knuckles that had your cheeks heating.

A kiss your skin burned through Sanji’s lips like the hottest of fires--a kiss he yeared to place on your lips. A kiss he wished to press along every inch of you skin you had to offer.

“Unfortunately not madam. I saw your stunning glow on the beach upon our arrival. I’m Sanji.” You thought back to the beach. To that shout and flash of sandy hair you had seen.

Him. It had been Sanji who you had caught a blurred glimpse at.

“Y/N. And how unfortunate indeed, right when I was in need of some help applying lotion to my back. I’m all burnt to a crisp now.” Sanji’s eyes widened as he scanned over your body, which still wore your bikini top and now a tie-on skirt. His cheeks flushed at your comment making a giggle spill from your lips.

“Forgive me. How could I have allowed such a thing happen to skin as fair as yours?” He was quick to say back in a flirty tone to match your own.

My oh my was he handsome and charming and--young. He was young. It was a fact that had you pulling your hand away from his despite the near heartbroken, puppy dog-like look he gave you.

“Allow me to make it up to you,” Sanji said, moving just the much closer in your hand's absence--needing to be closer to your glorious smile and confidence.

“Allow me to rid myself of this horrible situation.” Sanji’s green-haired crewmate gruffed, pushing off the bar with two beers clutched in one hand, a cocktail in the other, and what looked like a glass of milk tucked against his scarred, exposed chest and the crook of his elbow.

“I am actually looking for your captain.” You spoke quickly before the green-haired one could rush away. He narrowed his eyes down at you suspiciously. “I assume that must be you?” Sanji scoffed, gaining your attention once more. You watched him grab up the wine he had ordered, his half-obscured blue eyes returning back on you in seconds.

“That old mosshead? I think not.” The green-haired one huffed, thoroughly annoyed, before walking off towards where the rest of their crew sat. “Our captain would be one who ordered a chilled glass of milk.” He said with an amused chuckle as you watched the green-haired swordsmen hand out drinks. The milk went to the bouncy, straw hat-wearing boy who looked the youngest of the bunch.

That was their captain?

“Come, I’ll introduce you.” Sanji introduced you to his captain, who had been very excited to meet you. You sat, drank, and bartered with their navigator for passage off this little isolated of island for the rest of the night.

A good handful of berries had won her over and the next day you had been sailing off aboard their ship; The Going Merry.

And two months later you were still sailing with them, despite the various islands you had come across. None had felt right. None had been as full of adventure and fun as it was on the Merry with the Straw Hats.

It had been two months you spent helping Sanji in the kitchen. Two months of dishwashing, food prepping, and constant flirting back and forth with the crew’s chef.

Two months Sanji spent pining and pining after you. He had done everything to try and win your affections. Flirting, cooking meals, buying you gifts. But nothing. Nothing besides a thank you and a sad little look as you pulled away when he started trying to confess such feelings for you.

But Sanji was determined to win your heart. To win your playful smile, your kind soul, and your electric confidence. To have you be his.

So, on a night when your brightness had been overwhelming and the kitchen was all cleaned up and empty, he confessed his feelings for you. Confessed them quickly and all too rushed for his taste, but it was necessary when he knew you would be quick to shut him down--to laugh it off as more filtrations.

“Y/N, sunshine--I am deeply and utterly enamored by you.” You stared up at him. Stared up at him as your face grew more and more panicked. A panic he felt himself become as well. He grabbed hold of your hands, holding them gently as he pulled you closer. Holding onto them as if they were a lifeline. He leaned down so he could look into your eyes--eyes that had crept into his dreams. Eyes he wished to look into until he turned to dust and returned to the earth.

“You are who I wish to spend my days and nights with--and I mean it. You are stunning--and kind and confident. You give me the strength to find my own confidence.”

“I--Sanji…” His heart beat painfully in his chest as you hesitated. As that panicked look turned near saddened--hurt. It was an old hurt, he knew. A hurt you had told him little of. Just enough to know you had been hurt horribly, it sending you from your home to wonder about the dangers of the Grand Line.

“I can’t--you don’t mean that.” He pulled your hands to cradle them to his chest, where his heart beat like some drum.

“I do. Every word.” You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. Because you wanted to accept his words. You wanted to allow your feelings to rush free to meet Sanji’s own feelings, but you couldn’t. You shook your head, feeling your eyes burn. Sanji’s face stayed so--loving. So ready to give you everything he had to give.

“Tell me why? If you feel even an inkling of what I do for you, please, please tell me why?” Sanji pleaded--begged you.

“Because…Sanji, you deserve someone better than me. I-I’m broken. Too old and too hardened by past mistakes and loves. And you--” You gave a sad little sigh, looking into those blue eyes of his. “You’re bright and shining and so full of life and love. You have your whole life ahead of you--dreams to keep you going and I--”

“How could I ever possibly wish to achieve my dreams without you by my side every step of the way? How could I possibly even dream if I didn’t have you near?” You shook your head to disagree, but Sanji was quick to take your face in his warm hands. Hands you grabbed onto, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Too old, too hardened, too broken.” He said with a shake of his head, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. You reopened your blurry eyes to look up at him, to find a small, comforting smile on his lips. “Hardly. Not when you make me feel so alive. When I wake up excited to see your smile and hear your voice and bask in your utter confidence I could never get enough of. You make me feel alive--you make me feel everything you think I am without you.”

Hot tears escaped your eyes as you reached your hands to brush over the skin of his cheeks. To brush his face gently down closer to your own, which he did eagerly.

Noses brushed, then lips, until Sanji was closing the microscopic distances between you two. He kissed you soft and sweet. Kissed all the sweet, sweet words he had spoken into your lips.

You kissed him back just as sweet. Just as soft. A kiss you pressed all the devotion and love you held for him into. A kiss you deepened by allowing his tongue access to your mouth--a tongue that a bit of metal was pierced under. A piercing he had shown you after you had playfully teased him about being too much of a goody-to-shoes. He said it was his own little bit of rebellion.

Sanji’s hands moved over your back until they came to rest on your hips, grabbing you closer to him. You allowed your own hands to roam over his strong body, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his blue and white striped shirt--muscles you had seen on the special occasions he decided to train out on the deck. He grabbed your wrists just as your fingertips reached his belt.

He pulled away, looking so cutely flustered with his lips all swollen from your kiss, breath coming out in short puffs, and face almost as red as a tomato.

“Here?” He questioned.

“Unless you wish for an audience? Then in that case, let us pick a room--” You teased, turning to walk towards the exit.

“No.” Sanji grit, cutting you off before you could keep agonizing him. He gave your waist a small little tug back into himself. “Only I get to see you--devour you and your beauty.” That playful smirk of yours pulled to your lips in a way that had Sanji’s stomach twisting and heart nearly stopping at its beauty.

“Oh? Is that so?” You continued to tease, making Sanji’s flush deepen. You brushed your fingers over his cheek, feeling the warmth of the flush you had put there. “Then that must mean you’re only mine to see?” You traced the heart-shaped curve of his upper lips on feather-light fingertips. “To devour?” Sanji nodded--nodded in a rush that had you chuckling.

“Yes.” He said, his voice as low and as breezy as a whisper.

“Good.” You said just as whispery low and breezy before gently pulling Sanji back in. Back into that soft, devotion-filled kiss that sent warm strings of warmth flowing from your lips throughout your entire body.

Sanji’s grip grabbed for your waist again, holding you close once more as he turned and guided you backward until the backs of your hips hit the island you had just helped clean. Before you could protest against dirtying it once more, Sanji was hosting you up to sit on its gleaming surface.

“Sanji, you prepare food--” You started, but he silenced you with another warm kiss.

“You were the one who suggested the kitchen, sunshine.” He said, kissing down your jaw and throat. Your fingers brushed through the bits of blond hair on the nape of his neck. “And I will be having one last meal for the night, so it is only reasonable I prepare it here.”

You hummed as he kissed over your collarbone, hardly registering what he had truly said. Words that processed in your brain as he placed an open-mouthed kiss over the swell of your breast. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he licked a wet strip over your cleavage.

“Yes. Only reasonable.” Sanji paused, those beautiful blue eyes flicking up to meet your own.

“Really?” You nodded in a yes that had that charming smile, which had stolen your heart the moment you had first laid eyes on it, cross his features. A smile that made him look all that much more bright and handsome. You felt his hands move from your hips downward over your legs, which you had wrapped around his waist.

“You know,” You said, voice faltering the slightest bit when his hands found the bare skin of your legs, running right back up them. The feel of his warm palms and the cold metal of the ring he wore on his middle finger sent goosebumps rising over your body, their tingling only spreading and staying. “most men wouldn’t be so…eager to suggest such a thing.”

“Most men waste without a second thought.” He said, fingers finding the edge of your underwear. His eyes lit with the same excitement you saw in him when you would compliment his meals using specific cooking lingo you had learned from listening to him talk about it. “May I?” You nodded on a breathy yes that lodged in your throat the second he began pulling the thin fabric down and off your legs.

He placed them on the countertop with a care that you knew wasn’t needed but was grateful for seeing as those were your favorite pair. It only added to your ever-growing liking of the chef, now placing one of your ankles over his shoulder, blue eyes filling ever more in that excitement as he gazed upon your needy pussy.

“So beautiful, sunshine. So perfect.” You couldn’t help the little whimper that spilled from your lips at the words. Words that had your body zapping and singing in need right alongside your core.

You leaned back on your elbows as you helped along the process your pussy was begging to end. A process of trailing kisses up your inner leg and fingers that traced shapeless figures into your skin.

“Sanji--please.” You begged, lightly tugging at him with the foot lying behind his neck. Sanji's breath brushed over your throbbing core and made another whimper fall from your lips.

“Yes--yes, of course.” He grabbed your other leg and wrapped it over his shoulder where you hooked your legs together to pull him ever closer to your pussy, which begged right alongside you.

Sanji placed another kiss to your inner thigh--then to the bit of skin that connected your core to your hip before running that pierced tongue through your all but dripping folds. He moaned against your taste and you felt your body burn from it. From just the mere knowledge that he was enjoying tasting you.

He did more than taste you. He sucked and licked and devoured you like he was eating his favorite meal.

He ate you in a way that had your heart beating fast against your chest and your body squirming in his sold grip around your hips. Ate you in a mind-numbing, pleasure-rolling way that had you moaning his name so loud you had to slap a hand over your lips to keep from alerting the rest of the crew.

That pleasure built and built in you until it was pouring out of you in a viciously electric wave.

Your head fell back against the countertop as you finished, chest heaving up and down rapidly.

But Sanji didn’t stop. He dipped that pierced tongue deep within you, collecting all you had given him into his mouth before attacking your clit once more.

“S-Sanji--oh my gods--” You whimpered out as you grabbed hold of his writs, which hardly faltered under your weak attempt to pull him away. It was too good--too much for you in your recent, post-come state. “Holy--I’m gonna come again--” You whined out, feeling that electric pleasure begin to build again. An electricity that zipped and zapped around your body before releasing it in a shaking flood.

You didn’t hold your moan back as you came yet again on his tongue.

Sanji pulled away then, looking as if he had come himself--his eyes lust-glazed and lips puffy from use.

“F-fuck Sanji.” You breathed, reaching for that soft face of his. He let your legs fall from his shoulder as he leaned into your touch.

“I’m sorry, sunshine…” He said sheepishly, his nose brushing against your own. “You just tasted too good to let go.” You gave a low curse before claiming his mouth against yours once more. A mouth you could taste yourself on--a fact that had your body buzzing again.

Your hands roamed over his strong neck, over his broad shoulders, and down his chest and muscle-ripped abdomen before finding their home at his belt. Your fingers made quick work of undoing his belt, which you placed just as gently on the countertop as he had done for your underwear, before going for his button.

“Are--are you sure, sunshine?” He asked, pulling away enough to look into your eyes.

“Yes. I want to repay you.” Sanji shook his head the slightest bit.

“You don’t need to repay me for anything.” You kissed his chin as you unbuttoned and zipped down his pants, loosening them around the erection that had been trapped beneath them.

“But I want to.” You kissed his chin again as you slowly pulled his pants down. “Unless you wish to stop?” Sanji’s grip around your hips tightened the slightest bit.

“No. Not unless you wish it.” You smiled, running your finger over the edge of his underwear.

“No. I want to have you in every sense of the phrase.” A small little noise sounded in his throat that had your smile widening. Had you slowly pulling his underwear down and allowing his cock to spring free, its warm skin hitting your hand. You bit your lips as you looked over the wonderful sight, it twitching under your gaze.

“So beautiful, sweetheart. So perfect.” You said, mimicking his earlier words and meaning every one of them. He kissed your temple.

Wrapping your fingers around the smooth bit of flesh, you gave him one, gentle pump that had Sanji all but gasping for air. He fell forward, face burying itself into the crook of your neck and hands clutching at your dress for dear life.

So sensitive You thought as you kissed the shell of his ear. If he was this sensitive against your hand, you were eager to see his reaction to being inside you. You pumped him again as you scooted yourself closer to his awaiting cock.

“Ready, sweetheart?” You murmured into his ear, your other hand coming to run through his hair in comfort. He nodded, kissing your neck.

You hummed as you ran the tip of his cock through your folds, lining him up perfectly against your entrance, allowing him to easily sink into you. Your hum turned into a moan as your pussy stretched and flexed deliciously around his cock, allowing him to sit within you comfortably.

“Darling--sunshine--gods you feel so, so good.” He huffed against your throat, making you wrap your legs fully around his waist to pull him deeper within you--so that his hips pressed against yours in a way that had him gasping for air all over again.

“So good, sweetheart.” You praised back, letting him adjust to your warmth. You nudged his face with your own, kissing at his cheeks so that you could claim his lips against yours again. Lips that, once molded against yours, spurred him to move within you. Move in small thrusts that kept him close to you. Kept every little bit of skin that was exposed to the world covered and touching.

Breath became heavy against each other's lips. Lips that parted and allowed your tongues to dance with each other in a wet dance of passion.

You tugged lightly at his hand to unravel itself from his white knuckle grip on your dress so that you could direct him to your clit.

Sparks shot through your body as he began to rub circles into it. Circles that copied his shallow thrusts making your mind spin with it.

Sanji moaned a warning into your mouth about his quickly approaching end. You nodded, wanting him to come whenever he needed to--wanting him to feel no pressure when it came to such a thing because he had already given you more than most ever would. But he held out. Held out until you were moaning your own warning, the walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock until that build became unbearable to stop.

As soon as you came, Sanji buried himself deep and spilled strings of come into you.

Your body slumped against Sanji’s body, which slumped right back against you. Your panting breaths melded together and filled the once more quiet kitchen.

“Sun-sunshine?” You hummed in acknowledgment, running your fingers up and down the back of his neck. “I think--I think I might love you.” Your heart fluttered like some caged bird in your chest at his confession.

His second confession of the night.

“I…” You started as your mind thought of the reason you had even come to the Grand Line in the first place. A reason that had whispered sweet nothings in your ear before tearing you down on the next breath.

This--Sanji--was not them. Sanji was different. It was something you had come to know early on. Sanji was someone you could laugh with and be around without feeling less than yourself. Without having to prove yourself worthy of his attention. Of his love.

“I love you too.” You confessed back.

Tags: @writingmysanity

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endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

Text

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases.

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively.

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.”

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell.

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures.

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit.

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else.

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it.

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy.

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously.

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak.

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?”

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?”

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?”

“Right on the nail,” he confirms.

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink.

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table.

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to.

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?”

You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?”

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break.

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back.

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that.

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him.

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked.

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you.

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance.

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha.

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back.

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says.

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it.

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again.

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out.

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?”

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you.

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.”

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it.

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts.

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.”

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans.

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands.

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“So,” he repeats.

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him.

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.”

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off.

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you.

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-”

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right?

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock.

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car.

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on.

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort.

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth.

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.”

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you.

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him.

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does.

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together.

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there.

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day.

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week.

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way.

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile.

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that.

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier.

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice.

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet.

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image.

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend.

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling.

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you.

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile.

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.”

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off.

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to.

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.”

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble.

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours.

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain.

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears.

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up.

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out. “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing.

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing. How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck.

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind.

Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now.

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this.

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.”

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face you. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you.

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you.

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word.

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up.

“Frankie?” you call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could.

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away.

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago.

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?”

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises.

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular.

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core.

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers.

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you.

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content.

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure.

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.”

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length.

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily.

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are straining in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside.

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.”

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever.

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed.

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight.

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you.

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit.

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours.

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick.

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained.

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure.

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl.

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you.

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper.

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you.

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm.

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?”

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie.

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk.

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated.

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back.

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out.

“Yeah, cariño?”

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase.

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye.

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order.

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name.

“Hm?”

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?”

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again.

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.”

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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im-ovulating · 2 years ago

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(A/n: I got a new laptop so I can officially say goodbye to my sis's pc and get on your smut requests lmao)

(Istg my blog is just Obey me and Twilight at this point lmao; I do write for other fandoms I promise😅)

Word Count: 1,434

Summary- NSFW headcanons for our favorite boys + dick analysis

Warnings: Shibari, Creampie, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Choking, Belly Bulge, Tit Washing/Cumming on Chest

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Obey Me Brothers NSFW Headcanons

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Lucifer-

Dick analysis:

6 1/2 inches and girthy

He has two thick veins running along either side, leading all the way to his mushroomed tip

Speaking of tips- his is almost constantly a pretty rose shade, just in between pink and red

He doesn't like mess and that translates to his body hair as well

He keeps himself nicely trimmed -not too much hair, but not clean shaven

The exception is his happy trail; he doesn't think his hair should come above his pants waistline

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves to tie you up and watch you fall apart on his cock -the only mess he'll tolerate

Lucifer is a master at shibari

He'll have you laid up on his bed with the most beautifully crafted knots pressing just tight enough into your skin as he plows into you

His favorite way to tie you up is on your back, arms tie up and behind your head with your thighs roped to your chest

It's perfect in every way: The satin sits beautifully against your skin as it exposes your pretty, fluttering hole to him.

Let's not forget his favorite part of all- he gets to see your gorgeous face, hot with embarrassment at being so exposed mixing with the way your mouth falls in to an 'o' as he finally sinks into you

Absolutely does slow deep thrusts

He knows how torturous it is, especially after he's wound you up so tight

He is just sadistic enough to ignore his own edging just to rile you up to your limit

Mammon-

Dick analysis:

7-8 inches and thin

He has a pretty narrow base with a larger head

Not quite a mushroom tip, but still flared

His tip sits at the same color as the rest of his length

He definitely shaves, at most he'll have a small patch of hair right at his base

Other than that, he keeps it clean shaven

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves downward doggy style

He loves being able to hit all the deep spots inside you as he presses your face into the pillows with a hand at the back of your neck

His thrusts are erratic and fast

With just enough control to have that coil tighten in your belly

He might not be the thickest, but he damn sure knows how to use his length to his advantage

He knows just how to make you crumble with his cock

If you can get pregnant, you better be on the pill, because he loves cumming deep inside you, watching as it squelches out around his base

His second favorite thing is watching his cum ooze out of you

It just means he gets to fuck it back into you

Leviathan-

Dick analysis:

About 5-6 inches and average girth

He rarely trims -just enough to keep his pubes under control without having to constantly go at them with scissors or a trimmer

He has a thick vein along the bottom of his cock that spiders out the closer you get to the tip

His tip is a pretty purple shade that gets darker the harder he is

This boy has h e a v y balls

He has breeder balls through and through

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves being in your mouth

There's something about the way you sit so prettily in front of him, sucking him off as he plays a game

The lewd sounds of your spit mixing with his precum egging him on to finish this boss quicker so he can properly fuck your throat

Once he finishes the level, his hand is in your hair, holding you in place as he bucks his hips into your face

If he's super lost to the pleasure or upset, his tip is pushing down your throat, creating a bulge with each thrust

He doesn't care if you're gagging around him

Just finish him off like a good little pet, hmm?

Satan-

Dick analysis:

6 inches and thick

He doesn't have any prominent veins but it almost bulges in the middle before tappering back down near the tip

Speaking of, his tip is deep red -almost maroon

He slightly curves to the left

Does not care about hair

He just lets it grow how it was intended

It grew there for a reason, why would he touch it?

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves taking you from behind while on your sides

He can simultaneously hike your leg up and choke you at the same time

What's not to like?

Not to mention the stunning arch of your back when he slams into that special spot

Or the way your head throws back, giving him unrestricted access to the column of your throat

If he's more into his feels, he'll hold you chest to chest as he grinds slow and deep into you

He loves to cum on your ass

There's just something about the way it drips down the curve of your cheeks that has his cock standing at attention again almost immediately

Asmodeus-

Dick analysis:

He's around 5 inches with an average girth

The shaft of his dick is a pale cream color that contrasts perfectly with his pretty pink tip

His tip is extra sensitive, the slightest touch has his dick twitching

The shaft has just the slightest curve upwards

The perfect angle for both reaching all your favorite spots and for getting jerked off

Definitely shaves all of his pubes

Why would he want to hide himself when his cock is just so pretty?

NSFW Headcanons:

Asmo loves all positions, but there's something special about missionary to him

Whether it's being able to see the pleasure he's giving to his partner or them being able to bask in the perfection that is his 'o' face

Maybe it's a mix of the two (It's mostly the latter)

He lets out the most serene sounds you'll hear in your life as he draws similar sounds from you

Doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving, it'll be the best time of your life, don't you worry

Beelzebub-

Dick analysis:

A solid 9, maybe 10, inches with a monstrous girth

He has a large vein that runs down the top that splits into a 'Y' shape as it nears the head

He's got a bigger base and shaft with a narrow head

His tip is a light purple-bordering red

He lightly trims his hair every other week

Except his happy trail -He maintains that to be the perfect trail starting just below his belly button and leading down to his v-line

Luckily for you, Beel's a shower not a grower

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves fucking you against a wall or on desks/counters

Hard and fast or slow and steady doesn't really matter to him

He just wants to fuck you

Don't get me wrong- he knows how to match the mood, he just doesn't have a preference

His preference is simply being inside you

Well, as inside of you as he can get

Most of the time, you can only fit a little more than half of him in you

Even that has a borderline uncomfortable stretch

Is kind of a sadist in that he loves to push down on the bulge that forms in your stomach

Doesn't mind pulling out if you want him to

Give him the chance, though, and he's nutting inside you, tip just inside your fluttering hole as it desperately tries to pull him back in

Belphegor-

Dick analysis:

6-7 inches with average girth

Definitely has a c-shape to it

He has a slight vein down the underside

Has a couple freckles along the length

Another member of the no-shave-club

He just doesn't care if there's hair or not

If you ask, he might trim it but otherwise it's as au naturel as you can get

His tip is generally the same color as his shaft, maybe a shade or two darker

NSFW Headcanons:

Whatever positions that require the least amount of effort are his favorite

His top ones being both cowgirl and reverse cowgirl

Don't let that fool you, he's still in control

Hands griping your hips in a bruising vice as he fucks you dumb

Edging is his absolute favorite thing to do to you

It doesn't require too much energy

All he has to do is still you once he notices your bouncing becoming more erratic

If he's not too exhausted, he'll have you on your back as he relentlessly pounds into you

He really only works on finishing you once he's had at least one orgasm (refer back to the edging)

His favorite places to cum are in you and on your chest

He likes watching your chest rise and fall as you gasp for breath and seeing his cum dribble down your torso

#lucifer smut #lucifer x mc #mammon smut #mammon x mc #leviathan smut #leviathan x mc #satan smut #satan x mc #Asmodeus smut #Asmodeus x mc #Beelzebub smut #beelzebub x mc #belphegor smut #belphegor x mc #obey me smut #obey me x mc

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barbieaemond · 10 months ago

Text

The King of Qarth II

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Qartheen f!reader (use of third perspective)

PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Warnings: mentions of child sexual abuse, mentions of child bride, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, grinding, handjob, knife kink if you squint, self indulgent use of sorcery

Word count: 11k

Author's note: Aemond and the Salt Queen gets to know each other and do some good ol' bonding on shared trauma(s).

English is not my first language.

Taglist: @zae5 @arcielee @multyfangirl @zaldritzosrose @succnfuccubus @kckt88 @venmondiese @mariahossain @miraclealignertlsp369 @ilikechocolatemilkh @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog @gemini-mama @freyaniobe @toodlesxcuddles @youngestxhearts @helen06dreamer

“Don’t run from me, kori” he screamed as she ran into the night “Please! Come here!”

He tried to chase her but her feet were faster, barely touching the ground as the nine-year-old girl ran away from the Palace of Dust.

She felt she could run forever, that she could not stop, not until she had forgotten what she had seen. What were those invocations? Why was that woman naked and screaming? Why was her father slaughtering animals on a stone altar and drinking their blood?

“Knowledge comes with a great cost.” was all Fydor repeated when the jarring rumors about what was being done in the House of the Undying reached her young ears and her mother, when the Shadow of the Evening had already stained her father's lips and fingernails blue for good.

“What does it mean, Father? What knowledge?”

“Any kind of knowledge, kori. Everything that was, that is. Everything that could be.”

But she did not want to know. Knowing had cost her her mother. She just wanted to run, but the black-barked trees with blue leaves seemed to envelop her like shadows in flesh, a labyrinth changing its thousand deceiving paths with every step she took.

For a moment she turned, her father was running after her but he was far. Until he wasn't.

She went crashing into him as the other Fydor continued to run behind her. He had done this before, all the Warlocks of Qarth did, appearing in several places at once.

White as a sheet, she watched her father lower himself toward her in that strange embroidered tunic like one who performs a ritual. Even in the darkness of that labyrinthine wood, the blue stood out on his lips and in the sclerae of his eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid...but why? Why did you come here?”

“I heard the screams.” the little girl said with her lower lip trembling “When is Mother coming back?”

“She won’t, kori. It’s only you and me now.”

It was the first and only time she set foot in the Palace of Dust. Visits to her father were rare, although he longed to see her. Sometimes she could swear she could hear him talking in her head, telling her that the shadows protected her, that he protected her through them. Other times she would give in and invite him to the Palace of Salt, almost glad to see him but not quite.

There were always two opposite grooves in her lips when she looked at him. He was the man who avenged her and lost his tongue for it; he was the man who drove her mother to flee, abandoning their daughter.

She felt like that right now as she walked away, as she ran away from him, just like when she was nine. She could hear him echoing in her eardrums, as she left the courtyard with Prince Aemond, with the voice of the past, as if he had regrown his tongue.

“What did he say?”

“Trees wail…leaves are bleeding…” she hears, not the Prince speaking.

Aemond pulls her arm and feels her tensing at his touch, blinking at him as if she wasn’t there up until now. “What?”

“Your father. What did he say before we left?”

"Nothing of your concern.” She says lightly and resumes her walk. He stands still for a moment, sure, as he is sure of the noble blood in his veins, that whatever the warlock said through his hands, did concern him.

Unfortunately, he’s forced to set that thought aside as they leave the Palace; Aemond halts his stride, narrowing his eye at the strange wheelhouse waiting before him. A wheelhouse without wheels, and not even a carriage; more like a bed waiting to be moved, with veils and curtains on each of the four sides. A palanquin, he recalls the word from some book he read. This is how aristocracy moved in the East.

He turns his head as air shifts behind him, and a moment later he’s almost growling at one of the Sorrowful Men, bold enough to lay hands on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The Salt Queen rolls her eyes and walks to him. “Leave it. I’ll deal with the Prince. He’s already accustomed to having my hands on him, am I right?” she says with a tight, luscious smile, and oddly enough, but perhaps not so much, he doesn’t flinch as she starts to search his blue silks for any weapon.

Her hand slips beneath the soft fabric, gliding on his bare skin, chest and ribs, and she stares at him deliberately, just like him. “Perhaps your Highness just couldn’t wait to get her hands on me again.” he retorts with the ghost of an obnoxious grin.

She says nothing, staring at him as she searches his waist and then through the blue folds underneath. “Ah.” she tuts at one point, slowly drawing his faithful dagger. “And here I thought you were just pleased to see me. You won’t need this.” she says, keeping the blade. “Unlike you, I don’t bite. Unless asked of course.”

He hears the stretch on the word asked and nods slowly, plastering a fake, chastened frown. “I see. My deepest apologies. I didn’t think I had to ask since you have been throwing yourself at me at every corner. Speaking of which, your husband seemed quite proud of your performance earlier at breakfast. Will you be rewarded for your noble services?”

She only blinks at his vitriolic remark, but there is not a trace of outrage on her face. “Someone might say it is not wise to insult someone, especially a woman, when she is armed.”

“Why, do you know how to use that?” he asks, lowering his gaze and tilting his chin to point at the blade.

“No, but how difficult could it be considering how little it takes me to get you to let your guard down? Just like any man, I might add.”

He has no time to bite back, annoyingly moving his jaw at being deemed an ordinary man who crumples at a woman’s touch, while she turns her back and moves the curtains aside to enter the palanquin.

Aemond follows and finds himself cursing internally as he tries to adjust inside that odd, restricted transport. He wouldn’t even call it that. It’s nothing but a mattress with soft cushions on it.

Were Qartheens accustomed to doing everything lying on those damn cushions?

He might just sit, but he is too tall, and the canopy of the litter is too low, greeting his head with a slight bump. The Queen stifles a smile, already settled on the cushions with her legs tucked under her, and she watches him sigh deeply, resigning himself with clear annoyance to lie down on the cushions, holding onto one elbow.

Aemond tries to look at ease, not bothered by the woman and how much she's close to him, as close as if they were to confide a secret to each other, and just as he thinks he has settled down, the Sorrowful Men are lifting the litter, and he is jolted forward, slightly on top of her.

She lifts her arm to hold him by the shoulder, and in that split second, Aemond ties his hand around her arm to keep his weight off her. She tenses, just as before, just as she did the night before in his room. To her misfortune, she is now the one who suffers from too much proximity, or rather, a total lack of space. She feels the long single braid dangling on her, tickling her chest. She can see the specks of blue in his iris, the small cleft on the tip of his nose, the way that vicious mouth flaunts a perfect shape.

If only she could actually read minds, she would know that that last thought mirrors in his head.

He shouldn't care, he shouldn't even linger on that thought. This woman has done nothing but trample on his pride, has done nothing but mocking and taunting, and she seems quite adamant on keeping doing so. But perhaps it's because her mouth is close now, and for once silent, slightly open; an offering hiding a thousand more. And he had not taken it. In the throes of rage and pleasure, he had not kissed her. And he wishes. He wishes to know. Would she taste sweet? Tart?

Would she taste like salt?

The thought slips to the back of his mind as she clears her throat and straightens up, forcing him to distance himself, although they are still uncomfortably close. With one hand she knocks twice against the canopy, and the Sorrowful Men start walking.

Aemond leans better on his elbow to curb the swaying of the litter, and sighs glancing at the woman beside him. “Never heard of horses in this part of the world?”

“Horses barely survive in the desert, ask any Dothraki. Besides, what you Westerners do with those poor beasts is barbaric.”

His eyebrow is raising, ready to rebut, but as he opens his mouth, she offers him a small plate full of dates and dried figs. He moves his hand to dismiss it, causing her to frown. “Do you ever eat?” she takes one fig between her fingers and bites. “You should try one. Perhaps it’d make you less…bitter all the time.”

He glares at her but in doing so, he stumbles upon her mouth and the saccharine juice pasting her lips. She reads this as if he is reconsidering, so she stretches the half-bitten fig, and given their closeness, it takes her little to bring it to his mouth.

Aemond tilts his head back to decline and sighs. "Do you always think about eating here?"

"God no, we have much more pleasant pastimes." she says, chewing the other half of the fruit. "Would you like to hear about some of them?"

Aemond is not looking at the woman, and yet he can feel her luscious smile like something vivid, prickling his skin. "I can imagine."

"Can you? It doesn't seem so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, perhaps our intimate encounter misleads me, but...you seem that kind of man who fucks his wife only on all fours, to feel in power and all those manly excuses."

"I am not." he hisses.

"Really?” She tilts her head curiously and looks at him closely. “Ever let her be on top? Ever been tied up? Blindfolded?"

He looks away at that, scoffing. "So, it's either eat or fuck."

Aegon would have thrived here, he thinks dimly.

"Fine. What should we talk about then?"

"Why do we have to?"

"The war? I, for instance, think it's only your father's fault. He wanted a son, right? And he had three. People unfit to take a decision should not be allowed to rule, if you ask me. On the other hand, though, what your mother did upon his death—"

"Keep my mother out of your mouth."

She hears the threat in the hissing way the words come out of his mouth, so she hushes, and turns her head toward the bustle of the city blurred by the veils and curtains of the litter. “Silence it is.”

And silently, he thanks the Gods for a moment of peace, free of this constant enquiring and teasing. That same silence though, only makes him think of Alicent. Is she still in chains? Is she wondering about him day and night or did she choose to banish him from her mind as he banished her?

Perhaps now that he is in a rather civil city, he could send word to her? Let her know he’s alive and that he was…what was he doing here?

But even if he did know, he could not trust any of these people.

“What is exactly your husband’s plan now?”

“What do you think? You promised them dragon eggs. They won’t let you go until they have their little lizards to play with.”

Aemond scoffs, glancing distractedly beyond the curtains “Do you think you can fool me? Speaking of them as if you are not into it as well.”

“I am not. We may have different customs, but even here women are pawns in the hands of men. Men choose what we shall do, who we shall marry…how they shall fuck us.” He drags his eye back on her at this, watching her as she adds “But I have no interest in keeping you here, or having a creature spitting fire as a pet. I prefer cats, if you must know, or snakes.”

“I see. So, you just follow his orders? He tells you to fuck whoever is housed under your roof, and you obey?”

“I fuck who I wish to. And if you don’t want to taste how sharp your dagger is, you might want to stop addressing me as a whore.”

“Who you wish?”

“Yes.” She catches a glimpse of his eyebrow raising in a rather boastful way and looks away, huffing. “Quit it, dragon prince. You might be handsome, but it wasn’t that special.”

“Why? It was hard to tell in the midst of all that begging.”

“Because I don’t like to feel like I’m ten again.”

The smug expression on Aemond's face disappears as quickly as the Salt Queen speaks those words, wrinkling his forehead as he grasps their meaning. But she looks at him with a passive face, and she speaks of this person, herself, and yet another, with the distant tone with which one speaks of the dead.

“I was raped when I was ten. Bent over my small table while I was painting seashells.”

Aemond looks genuinely startled, and why wouldn’t he? He is not sure he can trust this woman’s word, but something in the back of his mind, namely the way she was tensing like steel as he took her from behind, tells him she’s speaking the truth. After all, it seems her tongue is made of nothing else.

“Don’t look at me like that.” she says “I’m not telling you to make you say you’re sorry. Everyone knows. There is no such thing as secrets here. It helps the trades, makes for more honest negotiations.”

The litter stalls as Aemond barely registers they must have reached the walls, but he doesn’t move, staring at the woman, cautiously, enquiringly, as something unfolding right before him.

“And what are we trading?”

She was starting to move to get out of the palanquin, but she halts at his question, raking his half-lying figure with her eyes, the long slender hands laced together on his abdomen, the little smooth portion of chest peeking from the blue silks. “It depends on what you are offering…”

They share a long earnest look, unwavering on both parts, until the curtains are moved. “Your Highness, we have reached the walls.”

The woman blinks and takes a light breath. “Let’s go, shall we? Before your lizard starts chewing the walls.”

She barely moves and he’s seizing her wrist, drawing her eyes back on him instantly. The Queen witnesses something new curling his features, cracking his mouth open and then shutting it back—a reluctance, almost a regret that does not settle well on that ever-so-strict face; it seems unwanted, rejected, and yet it keeps coming back, twitching his mouth twice. “Had I known…I would’ve behaved differently.” He says staring down, whereas she stares right down at him, at the grimace twisting his lips, as if tasting salt. “I know how it is…to feel—”

“Powerless?”

In more ways than one.

He doesn’t utter the words, but the way his eye pierces through her is nothing but a confession.

“You could have stopped me.”

“Yes, I could. That’s what troubles me.” She says in a hushed tone, and now she’s the one staring down, grimacing. “I didn’t want to.”

Being a dragonrider, one might think Aemond should be used to deal with strange creatures. And yet, his brow is furrowing steeply as soon as they’re out of the city walls. There are some men waiting for them, common men dressed in dark robes, acting as keepers for a four-legged animal that Aemond has never seen in his life. A camel.

The Salt Queen fakes a frown upon reading the confusion on his face and says “Surely you didn’t think we would walk in the desert.”

“Because it’s hot or because it goes against all the lying around you do here?”

She bursts into a short laugh, drawing his eye to her, and says “It seems you have found your humor. I’m glad. I like men who can make me laugh.”

It was not really his intention, rather a mere observation, but he says nothing, lingering for a moment on her lips curved up, before returning to look at the creature before him, slowly ruminating something as it stares at him with two dark, waning eyes.

“I don’t know how to ride this—thing.”

“Ah, it’s a bit tricky. You see,” she goes to stand right beside him, leaning against him so that he feels her bare shoulders against his arm, and as she gestures towards the camel, she says “You have to get on it and keep yourself balanced on the hump with one knee. Very dangerous, I must warn you. Most men die by merely trying.”

She turns to look at him with her lips cracking in amusement, but as she sees the earnest, not at all amused, face he’s wearing, she sighs deeply. “And it’s lost again.”

“It’s just a bit slower than a horse.” She explains taking a step away as one of the Sorrowful men hands her some blue fabric, like a scarf. Aemond sees her handing one to him and she speaks before he asks about it. “For your skin. To shield you from the sun if you don’t want to peel your face off because of burn blisters.”

He grabs the cloth, unfolding it between his hands as, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Queen wrap her own around her head, leaving only a crevice for her eyes. He tries to mimic her gestures, but his braid gets stuck, so she walks to him raising her hands, and without a word she helps him, wrapping his head and face in blue.

“Come. Since it’s your first time, you’ll ride with me.”

Then, she moves towards the camel, while the armed men will follow on foot, dragging the cart of dead pigs and goats. With silent relief on his part, Aemond finds out that it seems even easier than riding a horse. At first.

The camel kneels on the sand on his four legs, and Salt Queen straddles it, sitting in the saddle. She swings each leg on both sides of the creature, her silks gliding like water, effectively baring her skin from the ankles to her thighs; she makes room for him, turning her head to beckon him to sit behind her and, inevitably, she sees him staring down at her bare legs. “So, you found something else to stare at other than my breast. Good.”

Aemond looks up and then away, moving to get this over with. He sits on the saddle, behind the woman, their bodies barely touching, at first. As she grabs the reins, she slightly turns her head saying “Follow my lead.”

She pulls at the reins and since camels stand up with their back legs first, Aemond is jolted forward, colliding against the Salt Queen who promptly instructs him. “Lean back…”

He does so, and she does too, resting her shoulders against his chest. “And now forward.” She adds when the animal gets onto its front legs. Aemond lurches forward, and having no handhold, he grips her left side not to crash his body on her.

“Pigaí.” She says in Qartheen and, slowly, the camel starts walking. Aemond briefly looks behind, watching the Sorrowful Men move accordingly, four of them dragging a wooden cart full of carcasses, but soon he finds himself too occupied with keeping balance to spare a glance behind.

A camel’s walk is nothing like the gait of a horse. It’s odd, irregular, jerky; it keeps jolting him backward and then forward, each time forcing him to bump against her back, to hold onto her, sometimes her arm, sometimes her hip, her thigh even, like a toddler who's just learning to walk.

Hearing his short and clearly annoyed sighs, the Queen smiles behind the tajel, keeping her gaze fixed on the dunes at the horizon, and softly shakes her head. “Always so rigid…”

“What” he asks without even intoning the question, because the camel and this hiccup-like swinging is getting on his nerves, not to mention the heat, sticking the silks on him, or the woman's body which, for all the right reasons but rather inconvenient under the circumstances, is making his blood flow down too fast.

“You are too rigid.” She says, slightly raising her tone. “You have nothing to prove to this poor beast, or me.”

She takes his hand that he held like an iron clamp on her side and turns her head a little, enough to catch his eye. "Let yourself sway, don't fight it."

Keeping his eye on her, his grip lessens, just as all the stiffness in his body. She feels him sway, brushing naturally against her without tensing every time their bodies touched. And yet her throat stiffens as he keeps swinging against her, and she’s glad she’s giving her back and wearing a tajel, so he cannot see her lips parting as air hitches in her mouth.

The camel’s hooves avoid human and animal remains in what is nothing but a Garden of Bones; the sun is scorching, the air so humid, heavy, it feels like cotton when swallowing. But fortunately for them, she is not late to come into view amid those white dunes.

"By all the Gods..." The Queen cries out in disbelief, widening her eyes as she sees a huge black spot in the middle of the yellowish-white desert; a mountain, of flesh and fire.

The camel must sense her agitation, or perhaps he’s wise enough to know what he is up against. He starts to flail, to paw, and the Queen is forced to pull on the reins, unbalanced back and forth. Aemond holds her by the arms with his eye strained on Vhagar, but the quadruped seems to have no intention of staying there a minute longer.

He screeches to the point that both Aemond and the Queen are thrown from the saddle, landing on the sand, one on top of the other. The camel flees, despite one of the Sorrowful Men attempts to catch him.

That little cackle, however, awakens the dragon, or perhaps she simply sensed her rider. Vhagar raises her huge head from the cat-like crouched position she was in, her amber eyes wide as well as her giant wings. Aemond is barely in time to stand and help the woman do the same when the earth beneath them shakes as if in an earthquake.

The Queen of Salt whitens like a sheet as she sees that terrifying beast advancing from a distance, a distance that drastically runs out because each stride of the dragon covers miles.

She freezes on the spot, her mouth wide open, because the dragon keeps advancing, and for a moment she seriously thinks she is breathing the last breaths of her life.

Aemond shields her with his body, and Vhagar stops, opening her mouth wide and roaring so loudly that the queen has to cover her ears. Even Aemond scrunches his face under the scorching gust that sweeps over him, so scorching that the glimmer of flames ignites at the back of her jaws. She's not happy to see him. Or rather, she's not happy about being abandoned to starve in the desert, even for one day. Ageing makes even beasts more irritable.

“Lykirī, Vhagar!” the Prince shouts “Lykirī!”

But she does not listen, not immediately at least. She continues to roar, intent on voicing her disappointment. Then, finally, she closes her jaws. The Queen looks at her with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, her hands laced firmly around Aemond's arms. Vhagar lowers her head toward him, still showing her fangs, and flares her nostrils, smelling something, someone, foreign.

“What is she doing?” the Queen asks in a whisper.

“Hush.”

She tilts her head back, looking at him from behind and still whispering, says “Need I remind you my father is a warlock? If your dragon eats me, I will come back to haunt you.”

He doesn’t bother to retort, even more so because Vhagar makes a sudden movement, turning her head sharply as her nostrils smell what she has been craving for too long. Aemond follows her gaze, barely having the time to register the Sorrowful Men on the right, at a good distance but not far enough for a starving dragon.

“Get away from there!” the Prince warns them “Move!”

As soon as that last word leaves his mouth, Vhagar moves with impressive speed, given her size and age, but hunger quickens her limbs. Her head sinks on the cart as the armed men scurry away without logic, raising a cloud of dust and sand as her fangs pierce wood, flesh and bone.

She perches on the sand to enjoy her much-needed meal, which disappears by the second under the gaze of Aemond and the Salt Queen, still pale as a sheet and stunned by what she's witnessing, flinching every time she hears jaws snapping and bones cracking.

“Where are you going?” she asks as Aemond tries to take one step.

He turns, glancing at her hand gripping his arm, and looks at her for a moment before raising his eyebrow “Scared, are we?”

She gives him a flat look as if he has just informed her that the sky is blue. “Self-awareness is not cowardice.”

Aemond moves, circling the beast, and the woman dims it wisely to never leave his side, keeping a constant eye on the beast, unaware she’s still gripping his arm as she moves. The Prince stops somewhere near Vhagar’s left wing and the Queen watches as he seems to inspect it closely. Out of curiosity, she does the same, spotting a large wound toward the right end, healed but not quite. Aemond places one hand on the scales but as soon as he does that, Vhagar turns her head sharply, blood coating her jaws and fangs, and growls, clearly still annoyed with him or maybe just unhappy to be bothered during her meal.

“She’s just like you, isn’t she?” the Queen remarks “Sour and petty.”

Aemond ignores her, taking a step back, momentarily resigning not to tend to his dragon, as long as she’s in that mood. “Perhaps you could stop gripping me so hard now.” he says at one point, feeling the Queen’s nails digging through the silk.

She looks lost for a moment, and then withdraws her hand, looking away. She finds though that all she can look at is Vhagar, her giant dimension blocks her view entirely.

“How did you manage to tame such a monster?” she asks at some point, eyes full of dread, and yet wonder.

“She is not a monster.”

“No, of course not. She’s as sweet as a kitten.”

She observes the beast, her green and bronze scales, battered in several spots and frowns. “Correct me if I’m wrong, and I rarely am, did not dragons take decades to grow? She seems very old and you...” pausing, her eyes scan him from head to toe “you don’t look older than twenty-five?”

Aemond keeps his gaze fixed on Vhagar as he answers, that empty egg made of nothing but stone lost somewhere in the back of his mind. "My egg didn’t hatch. I claimed her when I was ten.”

"Ten?” she asks, disbelief and awe running together on her tongue.

He turns his head and tilts his chin down, and then up, as only pride can do. "Ten.”

She looks at him, not able to hide a righteous gleam of admiration, but then she’s crinkling her forehead, in that peculiar way of hers.

"Was it worth it?” she asks, upon acknowledging that new piece.

"What?”

"The exchange. Was it fair? Your eye for a dragon.”

Do not mourn me, Mother. His mouth twitches as he remembers, almost relives it. It has been years and yet, he can almost feel the right side of his head numbed with too much pain, the stench of his own dead flesh. The needle going in and out but not actually stitching anything back together.

“How did it happen?” she asks, and her tone is different now. That constant veil of mocking in the way she phrases her questions is nowhere to be found.

“Do you want me to believe you don’t know yet?”

"I told you twice. I cannot control this…power, it comes and goes. I must admit though, it is coming quite often in the last few days…I wonder why…”

Aemond looks at her, sees her search on him a mystery to which he has no answers in the first place. He learned this from Alys.

Magic repels answers, it must live and thrive on mystery.

On chaos, you mean.

And what’s the difference? That’s what you really yearn for. Chaos.

He sighs to cast her out, and says “My nephew took it with a knife.”

"And you killed him. This is why they call you Kinslayer, is it not?”

She cannot see his expression behind the tajel, only his good eye, still, cold and unwavering, like a star, and beautiful in the most cruel way.

"We may have shared blood but he meant nothing to me. And he got what he deserved.” he said, trying a flat empty tone, but she hears the edges quivering, crumpling, like salt eroding rocks.

"And what about that boy? Did he get what he deserved?”

"What boy?”

"The ten year old you.” His eye seems to glow with new light at her words, like the sun catching the flashing steel of a blade, and even with the blue scarf hiding his face, she knows his teeth are grinding. "I was never one for revenge.” She concedes, turning her head to the desert. "It may be the sweetest morsel, but somehow it never leaves you sated.”

"It sounds like you have tasted it.”

"Yes.” She admits, turning to look at him. "But it’s stuck in my throat.”

Aemond doesn’t need to ask, because as she said, there are no secrets in Qarth.

"You must have wondered why my father cannot speak.” she tells him, looking away, dredging up from her mind, from her memories, traces of a child who is no more. “There’s an ancient tradition here, when a wedding takes place. It’s called the sacred exchange. The bride and the groom can ask each other for one favor, anything, and they cannot refuse.” She returns her gaze to him, and says “My husband asked for my father’s tongue as my sacred gift.”

“Was it him?”

"No, not him…the night before our wedding, Irryo, Xavos’ brother, came into my room to give me his wedding gift. The purest silk I’ve ever seen. He made me wear it, stripped me bare with his own hands…said he wanted to see how I looked...”

She doesn’t need to utter the words. Aemond sees a little girl, a child, painting seashells, unfinished, falling from the table in a clatter of tinkles and choked cries.

"The wedding took place in a hurry an hour later. I said my vows with my silks still stained with blood. They were scared of my father’s wrath, you see. But it came anyway. Irryo died during the wedding feast. His eyes burst into his skull.”

“Your father’s doing.”

“Perhaps." she shrugs "I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, as I don’t know what to make of it now. I didn’t ask him to avenge me. All I wanted was for him, anyone, to say they were sorry for what had been done to me.”

Did he not want the same?

Apart from punishment, and then revenge, did he not want just one word of kindness from his father? Some sort of regret from Lucerys?

She feels his eye on her, even if he’s not really looking at her, perhaps at some ghosts locked in his mind, so she glances at Vhagar, quite contented after her meals and currently resting on the sand. “We should go back to the Palace before it gets too hot out here. I will give orders to save more dead beasts for your dragon.”

The journey back to the walls is a silent one. It spreads, silence, like an oil stain as they climb back onto the litter; each of them has caught something of the other, something similar, different cracks etched with the same cruelty, and matching.

Their gazes match, as they remove the tajel from their heads, as she hands him some water. She looks around distractedly, but the curtains are closed and even if they weren’t, the sound of water rushing down his throat brings her eyes on him, and then closely, she watches his tongue flicking outside for a moment, she watches a drop of water running down his chin. And wishes to lick it off with her tongue.

Somehow, it’s like he can hear what she’s thinking, locking his eye on her. They don’t speak, it’s almost as if both of them are waiting for something.

"Your braid needs to be redone." She says at one point, and he turns, not looking at her face, not at first. She sees his eye trailing slowly over her until he speaks.

"Is that your offering?"

Closely, she rakes her eyes on his chiseled features, and she is not even aware she is imperceptibly leaning closer. A moth to a flame, they say. But she has always been the flame. And now, she finds she’s the one willing to bathe in the light, or burn.

“If you wish."

It comes out like a whisper, drawing his eye on her lips, unearthing that same desire from earlier, the thirst to know what she tastes like. "What If I wish for something more?"

“Such as?" she asks, raising one hand to touch his braid and undo it, smoothly, as if she had done this countless times before.

"Don't be shy now. Everything is a trade in Qarth. Even pleasure."

Swiftly, he clamps his hand around her wrist, stopping her, drawing a slight wince beneath her skin.

"Pleasure is not something to be traded.” He says, and it’s the flame now that is moving. “Only taken."

The short intake of air she breathes on his mouth is a seal. His lips meet hers abruptly, they part instantly and ravenously, like a starved man tasting a morsel, and then loosening to taste it, to taste her. Perhaps it’s desert, perhaps it’s herself, but she does taste like salt. She’s bitter on his tongue, in his nostrils; she muffles his ears until he hears only her sweet sighing in his mouth as he slips his tongue inside.

And he wants more of that, just as she wants more. He feels her unfolding beneath him as he towers over her, so differently from the previous night. She’s not tense. She’s loose like water, he feels her seeping in everywhere, around his neck and shoulders, in his mouth when her tongue darts in, in his blood when she softly rubs against him. His breathing becomes heavy, from lack of air, from hardening, and maybe he shouldn't, maybe this isn't really the right place. They could wait until they get back to the palace, but then she lies back on the pillows and reclines her head, offering her neck. Without thinking, he lowers himself down on her, in fact lying on her, and she instantly makes room for him by spreading her legs wide.

She gasps softly as he trails wet kisses on her neck, growing greedy as he travels down, to what he’s been secretly coveting since the first time he unapologetically landed his sight on.

Cupping her bare breast with his large hand, he holds it firmly, humming pleasurably as he takes the hard nipple into his mouth. Accordingly, she bucks her hips against him, feeling his hardening tease her center through that thin layer of silk. Between that and the swirling of his tongue, hot and wet around her nipple, she is panting, spreading her legs wide to cage his hips and push him against her, desperate for more friction.

Despite his ache for the same and more, he glances up, still torturing her nipple, hard and slick at this point, watching her as he grazes his teeth over that darker spot of skin, forcing a choked, loud whimper to escape her mouth.

“Careful, your Highness” he teases “lest you want to give your peasants a show.”

“What do you think these curtains are for?”

“You want me to fuck you here? Now?” he asks with a playful scorn in his voice, but she can hear his breath creaking, his tone lower and throatily.

She raises from the cushions, holding on one hand while the other slips between them, hovering on his groin, brushing feathery. “I believe you want to.” She breathes on his lips, parting as soon as he rocks his waist to catch her palm.

“We could wait to be in the Palace but…” she takes his hand and brings it between her legs, on that thin layer of silk, damp again his knuckles. “Would you be so cruel and leave me like this, for so long?”

He swallows something close to a growl upon feeling how wet she is for him, how her cheeks are barely flushed as she exhales heavily, her face scrunched lustfully for the little, shallow pleasure she finds from his fingertips.

Curtains or no curtains, Aemond is deaf and blind to anything else around him. With his fingers, he moves the fabric and twists his wrist, so that his palm is straight against her pulsing core. She sighs hoarsely as her wetness coats his hand, arching just as slightly, goading him to do more. She has been watching and coveting his fingers once too many times, the thought alone of having them inside her crumples her face in a pleading way, and she has no shame in voicing it. “Please, Aemond…”

Upon hearing his name, spoken in that exotic and alluring way, he bares his teeth and harshly slips not one, but two of his slender fingers inside, watching her tilt her head back, her mouth open and out of breath, but she’s looking at him and she’s quick to regain air, barely curving her lips up. “So you do know how to use your hands…”

“You never shut up, do you?”

“Well, make me.”

His cock twitches on its own at her words, and he kisses her, roughly, flexing his hand to start pumping his fingers in. She moans loudly on his tongue, lacing an arm around his neck, still holding herself onto the cushions with her other hand, angling her back so he can reach that special spot more easily.

“Oh God—yes---” she moans when he does, rocking her hips to meet his deft fingers in a sweet lewd sound that muffles any other coming from the fuss outside that litter. Her breath grows short and labored, mewling obscenely every time he curls his fingers, his gaze on her fixed and focused like on some holy mission.

He desperately wants to bury himself inside her, right there; he’s almost thankful for the much more loose clothes they wear here instead of the constricting breeches he was used to, even though he feels his flesh on fire, and he’s practically panting on her pleasure; his own is of no concern to him right now, not when she’s so close, not when he can watch a little more of her face distorting with wanton abandon, her neck lumped with sweat, the way her breast swings with her motions.

But she, on the other hand, seems eager to end this torture, and start another. The tensed muscle in her arm gives away, making her back fall on the cushions once more, but the other is still tied around his neck, so she drags him down with her and then she’s rummaging through the blue silks, eager to free his length, but he grips her wrist and holds it firmly above her head. “No…I have a score to settle with you.”

“What? You proved quite enough you know how to use your hands.” She says breathlessly, cracking half a smile “I swear on all the Gods, yours and mine, I won’t doubt you again.”

Aemond is just about to retort but suddenly the palanquin stops, and they are abruptly brought back to the reality just outside those curtains. They hear a male voice and he looks enquiringly at the Salt Queen who visibly rolls her eyes and says something in Qartheen which, given her tone, Aemond is sure is some kind of curse.

She fumbles with her thin gowns, covering her nudity while he takes some distance, returning to lean on one elbow with once more clear annoyance, this time much more justified. And once more, he’s thankful for the loose silks, able to hide his otherwise plain arousal.

The Queen sighs deeply, to keep herself together, to stop the ringing in her ears and the aching stir below her navel; then she opens the curtains and smiles warmly. “Syradhor! I thought I recognized your voice.”

The man in yellow silks, with several sapphires embroidered in the fabric and worn on his fingers, bows for a moment saying, “Your Highness.” He takes her hand that she promptly offers and lightly kisses her knuckles, trailing his eyes on her with two eyes blind with admiration. “Any man who finds himself in the presence of such beauty can count himself as the luckiest in the world. What a blessing for me to be granted such fortune once more.”

Aemond is staring at the man, unimpressed, doing all he can not to scoff at the love sonnet-like speech, and a rather dull one. “Prince Aemond. A pleasure to see you again.”

Aemond recalls the man as one of the Merchant Kings who greeted him at the walls two days prior, but his face is all he remembers. “Which one is this?” he deadpans to the Salt Queen, evidently not happy to have been interrupted. She hears the annoyance in his voice and stifles a smile saying “This is Syradhor, the Ore King.”

The Prince barely tilts his chin down to greet him and the man in yellow takes a step forward, addressing the Queen. “Your Highness, since you are here, I am gladly extending my invitation to you as well.”

“Extending?” she asks.

“I—Yes, I was expecting Prince Aemond today, to formally receive him in my Palace.”

“Were you?” he drawls.

The honeyed benevolence leaves the man's face like a summer storm, because that's the way he is, as eager to please as he is quick to anger. “What is meaning of this? Did Xavos not inform you?”

“Of course.” Of course not, is what she means to say. But before she can utter another word, Aemond speaks. “Well, I’m afraid we have to delay this formal reception.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Syradhor.” The Queen steps in “you must understand, the Prince is new to our customs. He’s not aware of our welcoming traditions. As it happens, that was precisely what the Prince and I were discussing before you interrupted us.”

“Were we?” he says lifting his eyebrow.

She flashes daggers at him and continues with a broad smile. “I told him not to delay his visit to your Palace, for if ever a foreigner refused to visit one of the Thirteen—" she looks directly at Aemond, informing him at that very moment. “It would be considered the highest of insults.”

Aemond looks at her, unblinking, before sighing deeply, and deciding to play along. “Yes, I do recall now. Her Highness was quite vocal on the matter.”

She keeps smiling, for reasons entirely different from what the Ore King might think, and then he raises one hand towards the crowded street. “Please. My Palace is just around the corner.”

Aemond comes out of the litter, being careful to let the silks fall over all the right places.

“I hope you have a good time, my Prince.”

He whirls his head watching the Salt Queen stay still on the cushions and the Ore King looks just as stunned. “Will you not delight my Palace with your presence?”

“I am afraid I can’t, Syrhador. I was just asking the Prince for advice on some urgent matters I desperately need to attend to.” She pointedly looks at Aemond with a ghosting smile and then she shrugs, lightheartedly. “I suppose I shall take those urgent matters into my own hands.”

Her words and what they mean, stir something within him, more annoyance at the mere thought of wasting time with this little man —his shoulder reaches just above Aemond’s ribs— when he could be fucking her senseless on that litter, on his bed, hers, he’s not picky at this point. And more giddiness, making his blood boil at mere thought of her chasing her pleasure with her own hands.

But then she’s shutting him out, shutting the curtains, and ordering her men to move.

The sky is of a delicious pink-red shade when he returns to the Palace of Salt.

Four hours, that was the torment he had to endure in the presence of Syradhor and his family. Four hours in which he barely opened his mouth, and when he did, all that came out were monosyllables uttered from time to time in a manner closer and closer to snarling.

The Ore King had embarked on a soliloquy about alum, a precious mineral useful as mordant for dyeing wool, embalming animals and human bodies, and making wood fireproof. It would’ve been interesting for a former scholar as Aemond was, but it was difficult to think straight amid the chattering, duck-like squawking of Syradhor’s daughters, and even more difficult when he had brought the cup of wine to his mouth and sensed her intimate sweet-tart smell stuck on his fingers, awakening all the wrong thoughts.

In the end, he was so sick of the whole affair that he had curtly refused to be escorted to the palace of Xavos on another litter, and the Ore King had sent four of his guards to walk with him, along the streets of Qarth.

His spirits when he crosses the threshold of the Palace of Salt are at an all-time low. If only he didn't have to face another litter trip lying on cushions after spending four hours sitting on those same fucking cushions, he'd go straight to Vhagar. He's always been a solitary creature, just like her, and all these talks and pleasantries, fake or true, were like pouring a barrel of water into a narrow vase. He was toppling over.

Surprisingly though, as soon as he sets foot in his chambers, his foul spirits seem to instantly improve as he finds his room lit with candles, and not at all empty. The Salt Queen is sitting comfortably in an armchair, with her legs dangling graciously over the left armrest; a little book is clutched in her hold.

“My Prince.” She greets him as he lingers on the door, lifting her gaze from her reading.

Aemond closes the door, never tearing his gaze off her. It betrays nothing, only the faint irritation for the four hours wasted, but not the way his lungs swell upon seeing her.

“Did your Grace have fun?” she asks with sheer curiosity, closing the book with a light thud.

“Fun?” he repeats, as if she had just suggested she had proof unicorns from Skagos were real.

“Surely it was not that bad? I mean, yes, Syradhor is boring and yes, he has that annoying habit of touching you as he talks, but he has a great collection of wines. I should have told you. There’s no other way to survive him.”

“He has a litter of daughters” Aemond sneers, walking to her “each of them duller than the other.”

“Well, that happens when you fuck your relatives. You, above all, should know that.”

He looks at her questioningly and she leans forward to place the book on a little table, the soft fabric of her lilac gowns slips on her skin just as his eye slips on her bare thighs, glowing as gold under the candlelight. “His wife is his niece.” She says, looking up and catching his staring.

His eye trails slowly over her until locking her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot this.” She says, raising her hand with his dagger held between her fingers.

Aemond stops before her, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at her “You were waiting for me, to give me back my dagger?”

She takes a good amount of time, while looking at him, feeling his eye, darkened due to the dim light and boring into her, to utter a simple “No."

“Then why?”

She rises, handing the blade, and says “I believe we had a score to settle.”

Aemond takes the blade from her hands, nodding slowly, and then circles her to go sit where she was a moment ago, placing the blade on the armrest, along with his hands. “And what was it?” he asks with a faint smirk. If she’s keen on playing games, he will let her play this one. “Somehow, it’s eluding me now.”

She watches him cross his long legs, tilting his head as he awaits, and she says “Your braid needs to be redone.”

“Hmm.” Aemond looks around, almost amused, and sees his bed, not exactly in order as it was when he left, but slightly crumpled.

Did she lie on his bed? Did she touch herself and peak, writhing on his sheets? The thought alone tickles his spine, but still, he betrays nothing, only the faint tapping of his fingers against the armrest. “You’ve been here all this time to give me back my dagger and redo my hair.”

She watches his fingers moving and she’s moving. She would like to take his hand and pick up where they left off, but she just sits on his lap, forcing him to uncross his legs, and spread them a little to make her room. “I deeply cherish my guests and their welfare under my roof.” She jests, although it’s partially true.

The only difference is that she never spent hours waiting for one of her guests, or any man, nor fantasizing about all the ways that man could take her, not as fervently as she did as her hand moved relentlessly between her legs, finding but a mere flicker of the pleasure he had just started to spill from her.

“And did you…” his tone is coarse, so he pauses to swallow. He hates that his voice is coming out so low, he hates that this woman can reduce him like this in a matter of minutes, that his cock is already stirring. “Did you eventually take that urgent matter into your own hands?”

She takes a long lock of silver hair between her fingers, running them through it while she quietly answers

“Twice.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” She looks at him, while her fingers start to work on that lock, making a little braid using only one hand. “Disappointing.”

“The room or your hands?”

“Oh, the room was quite fine.” she lets the little braid rest among the other locks and trails her fingers on his chest, and a moment later underneath the silk, like tentacles. “I only wished I had your hands inside me.”

Her touch licks flames on his skin, on his chest, collarbone, and neck; she touches him with intent, as if she wishes to know what he is made of. “You could have come with me.”

“I didn’t lie, I had some matters to attend to. Besides, coming with you would have left us in quite a situation.” She reasons with diplomacy, not making a blink as her other tentacle slides over his stomach, disappearing underneath. “Sneaking around the Ore Palace to find a place to fuck.”

Aemond exhales heavily as she takes hold of him, parting his lips as she palms him thoroughly.

“Did you think of that while you were with those pretty girls?” she asks, watching his eyelid flicker “I know they’re pretty. Dumb, but pretty.”

He has no idea who she’s talking about. He rests his head against the armchair and opens his mouth as her ministrations grow cadenced and yet unbearably slow.

“Did you think of me?” she asks, softly panting along with him for the mere sight “of taking me in some hidden corner? Of putting your hands on me if I had been there?”

His nails dig into the armrest, around his dagger, until his knuckles go white. Truth is that he did. Sipping that cup of wine, the smell of her on his fingers only made him think of her, and how she would squirm if he touched her right there, under the table. How she would bite her lower lip to swallow her moans as she came all over his fingers.

“I did.” She admits with almost religious honesty. “I came twice thinking of your hands.”

Not a moment later, they are both growling with need as he slams his mouth on hers in a mess of tongues and teeth, and then she gasps, because his hand is on her core, moving already, gathering her wetness and spreading it. “Did you think of this? Hmm?” he croons, watching her closely, rejoicing upon seeing her face scrunching just as it did earlier, wantonly, pleading.

“No…” she mumbles.

“What do you mean no?”

Her hand slips behind his neck, in order to keep his head firm and his face glued to hers. “Inside…” she cooes urgently “I need them inside.”

It’s almost shameful for a proud man like him, how swiftly he obeys, but even if he didn’t want to, she’s so wet for him, dripping and coating his palm, that his fingers would’ve eventually slipped inside.

He sticks them all the way in, flexing and curling, hitting that spot and spilling a loud moan from her, who instantly sinks her hips down, rocking to goad him to start moving. He grants her this other little mercy, pumping nimbly with a squelching sound, going rock hard as she arches on top of him, keeping one hand clamped around his neck and the other on his knee, to find the right angle.

“There you go…” he rasps, watching his fingers disappear inside, feeling her spongy walls hot and squeezing “’Tis what you wanted?”

She is too occupied with trying to catch a puff of air to be bothered to answer, but he wants one. He stops altogether, winning a whine of protest and a flashing glare before her face wrinkles with desperate need.

“Not talking now?” he mocks and then swiftly, he is curling his fingers in a cruel way, drawing a choked whimper out of her throat.

“Yes. Yes, it is what I wanted.”

“Hmm. Go on, then. Take it.” And he spreads his legs a little more to give her room “Fuck my hand.”

Exhaling a small breath of air, she talks almost to herself. “A woman must do everything these days.”

“You won’t be saying that later.”

“Why, what happens later?”

“I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“That sounds a bit pretentious.”

“And you should have learned by now not to doubt my word.”

And doubt him she won’t, not now. She starts to move, swaying her hips and arching her neck as soon as pleasure washes over her. She would like to savor it, to take this slow, as she likes it, but her low muscles are so tensed and aching; she feels the peak near and can't do anything but run towards.

Aemond watches with labored breath as she rocks and grinds on him desperately, growing frantic by the moment, feeling her arousal down to his wrist, dampening his own silks, spilling a faint unbearable pleasure from the way her flesh grinds against his cock. And he finds himself moaning out of pleasure and pain as she draws near to her peak, gripping his neck hard, pulling at the roots of his hair while emitting a string of short and sharp cries next his ear, until she’s trembling all over, coming with a free and loud moan on his hand.

She tries to regain some air, panting in his ear as she rides the last throes. This, this is what she’s been fantasizing, even dreamed of it. No man has ever made her feel like this, a pulsing heart pounding in every inch of her body, a living flame bathing in fire.

Slowly, she tilts her head back and he takes his hand off her hot, pulsing flesh. She looks down, at her pleasure wrinkling his fingertips, and then up, straight into his turbid eye. He brings his fingers to his mouth to clean them, to taste her, but she snatches his wrist and, staring at him, she engulfs his index with her lips.

He’s tempted to look away, and not wonder how her perfect lips would close around his cock, but he keeps watching as she keeps tasting herself, on his middle finger, and then the ring one.

“How do you taste?”

“Me? Oh, this is not me.” She draws close until she nudges her nose against his and says “Pleasure tastes like the ones we desire.” She kisses him, slowly, darting her tongue in his mouth until he’s humming, tasting bittersweet. “This is your doing.”

A moment later she gasps, holding onto his shoulders because he rises abruptly, lacing his arms around her to hold her and take those few steps that separate them from his bed.

They fall on the soft mattress and her hands fly to his silks, willing to tear them apart until he’s bare. And he helps her, moving his lean shoulders to let the slippery fabric fall. She had thought Qartheen silks suited him perfectly, but now she thinks she’d rather have him like this all day. Her eyes roam freely on his lean body, dented in a few spots by burns and scars of war, a soldier’s body and yet not burly: he’s all refined and graceful, like a sculpture. It makes her mouth go dry, pushing her eyes down, on the thin waist and the prominent v-shape of his muscles.

Willfully, she grasps the soft belt cinching his waist, but he stops her wrists.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks with short breath, and the candles around catch the flashing steel of his dagger, held in his left hand.

“Valyrian steel?”

“The sharpest blade in the world.” and deftly, he twirls it.

It catches her eye for a moment, but then she drags her gaze back on him, relaxing on the sheets with an ounce of challenge in her eyes. “You will have to show me.”

Something wild bursts in his eye, wide and piercing. “Are you offering?”

She cracks a half heated, half cunning smile and says “I’m demanding.”

Aemond lies beside her, holding himself up on one elbow, and with bated breath, she watches his other arm move, bringing the dagger, and its pointy end, to the lilac woven shielding her torso. Slowly and cautiously, he slips the steel under a stripe of silk, locking his eye on her as she startles from the coldness of the blade. He flicks his wrist up, and the steel cuts the silk instantly and smoothly. But he doesn’t stop there, dragging the blade down, cutting all, unraveling her body, and not missing the way her stomach jolts, her breath hitches, and not out of fear.

He trails his eye all over her body, glowing under the candles, lingering on the soft patch of hair below her navel; his mouth goes dry and his mind blank. He lets the blade go and drifts down, grabs her legs and forces them open, hardening impossibly more upon seeing her previous peak still coating her cunt in a glistening veil.

She sees him hovering right on her center, anticipation quickens her breath but perhaps also a faint reluctance for what he’s about to do. She would complain about it with Dora, saying most of her lovers just sat there lapping at it like some thirsty dog in the desert. Once, she had even opened a book while having a man’s head between her thighs.

It is therefore with great shock that she abruptly gasps, out loud, when he slams his mouth on her cunt, raising his eye to watch her. She tastes sweeter than he’d expected, and he’s not one for sweet tastes, but this one, he wants it all.

His tongue swirls up and down her folds, circling slowly, making her back arch, her jaw slack open. “Oh God—” she moans once, and twice, unconsciously pushing her hips against his face, feeling the sharp bone of his nose nudging her bundle.

“If you have to sing my praises, then do it properly.” he rasps against her flesh, stopping, but not quite. He brings one hand on her apex, circling it with his thumb, torturing but not as she wants. “Please—” she begs freely, writhing beneath him.

“Please what?” he teases, licking his lips “You like to talk, don’t you? Then use your words.” He presses his thumb deeper and faster, and she whines, in pleasure and protest. “Please—with your tongue”

“Please…?”

“Aemond—”

“Again.”

He has half a mind to make her say his name until she loses her voice, but at the second time she utters it, her vowels even more open given her debauchery, he caves and grips her thighs harshly to keep them as spread open as he can. What happens next is a string of cries and choked moans as his tongue licks and sucks and pierces inside; he eats her thoroughly humming with sheer delight and occasionally groaning as, without being able to avoid it, he grinds against the mattress to gain some relief.

Pleasure coils in her belly as it never did before. She’d never been able to reach her peak like this, whether the occasional man was not that good at that practice or maybe because she’d never longed for anyone as she longs for the Prince. She’s not able to control her voice as she comes straight into his mouth, she’s not able to control her muscles shaking all over, nor her hand, flying into his hair, pulling and pushing him against her as she practically rides his face in the last spasms.

She lies there for a moment, ears numb and heart pounding like a hammer, but she has little time to come to her senses; he moves, leaning on top of her, mouth and chin slick. It makes her strangely proud to see it. This time, her hands are free to roam, discarding the last silks until he’s completely bare. Aemond slips between her legs, hissing at feeling her moist flesh against his. He cannot wait any longer, as he moves to angle her hips and bury himself inside her, she grabs his face, forcing him to look up.

“Show me.”

It takes him barely a moment to get what she means. He freezes on the spot, and looks down with a grimace.

“You saw mine.” She says sofly. And it’s true. Even if he didn’t know, he saw, he touched, her wound.

And maybe it’s because he did, and he knows it to be true that this time there’s no reluctance, or rejection choking down his words. “I am sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, you couldn’t—”

“No. Not about last night.”

All I wanted was for him, anyone, to say they were sorry for what had been done to me.

Air hitches in her throat as she stares at him with wide eyes. He has that unwavering stone-like look on his face and she knows he means it. No second purpose could ever force his tongue into saying that, because he doesn’t have any. He had her already, and he would have her again, whether he had spoken those words or not. But he means it. He chooses all his words too carefully to waste them on lies.

All she knows now, is that she wants him. A foreign, fierce willing like the one that possessed her the night before, urging her to stay right where she was, to goad him to take her harder, instead of begging him to stop.

She grips his neck and surges to kiss him, moaning with liberation into his mouth, swallowing his soft growl as her hand slips between them, grabbing him and guiding him against her entrance. He pushes in ever so easily, and she throws her head back on the sheets, gasping at the stretch while he rests his forehead on her chest, struggling to breathe as he buries himself inside her.

The bushes pierce through his feet, bleeding on the ground, a pain he is well accustomed.

One must walk barefoot in the Wood of Shadows.

The long blue robe rustles in the wind; it is loud in his ears, wailing, as it does nowhere else.

He stops next to a black barked tree and leans his ear against it. Glancing up, a mantle of dark leaves wave in the sky, bleeding blue.

He hurries up, resuming his path. His right hand trembles incessantly as it always does next to it. Fortunately, he holds the little vial in his other hand, safe.

The Palace of Dust is covered in dark, not even a torch lighting the way. They say there are no walls or ceilings there. They say there is no such thing as time in the House of the Undying.

He opens one door and enters a round room, clothed in dark, except for one, faint white light coming from a hole in the ground. A water well, translucent; soft waves curl the surface, rippled by no trace of wind.

There is only one man standing in the light, looking into the water. The others are scattered around the room.

“Is he Seeing?” asks the man with the trembling hand.

“Hush. Did you bring it?” answers another, coming into view under the faint white light.

“Here.” He hands over the vial. “I’ve never seen so much of it. Leaves are bleeding as we speak. It’s like an awakening.”

“It is awakening.” says the other, his eyes barely visible under the cloak.

“But why?”

He receives a long scornful look. “You are weak. That is why you’re reduced like that.” the other says, glancing at his hand “You cannot bear it.”

“We are awakening.” Says another voice from somewhere “We awaken in the presence of the most ancient and powerful magic.”

“Fire?” tries the trembling man.

The one with the vial turns his head, nodding. “And blood.”

He walks to the man standing before the well. He is looking into the translucent water. He doesn’t blink. Seems like he’s not even breathing. But there’s a strange curve on his blue lips, hardly visible. Almost a smile, a fond one.

“Fydor.”

Only then, the man blinks and turns his head.

“Freshly collected.” the other lifts his arm, showing the little vial. Under the well’s light, the liquid shines with a vivid blue.

The mute warlock takes it and swiftly lifts the cap. The other hurries to take a step back, while the one with the trembling hand widens his eyes with almost dread. His fingers start to shake maniacally, as he watches the man in the light drinking the Shadow.

All the others, at once, seem to emit a choked snarling sound, as thirsty men in the desert upon seeing a pool of water.

The empty vial falls to the floor, breaking in little pieces, the water in the well moves as rippled by an opposite wind, and Fydor makes a choking sound; his eyes rolls over like in a seizure, and then they stop.

The pupil is gone, all is left is the white, but it is not white, not anymore. Too much Shadow of the Evening. His lips, nails and white of his eyes are blue for good.

At times, it lasts for hours. Others, it’s barely a minute. But there’s no time in the House of the Undying.

When it ends, it could be morning outside, they do not know, and they do not care.

“Fydor?” the same one asks when the warlock’s pupils are back in their place.

The man looks at him for a moment, and then starts moving his hands jerkily. “It is time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to act.”

“What about your daughter?”

For a moment, Fydor looks into the well. “Kori is on her own path now. I cannot interfere. She won’t let me. But seeds must be sown.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Keeping his blue eyes on the water, transfixed, he moves his hands. “What do you do with an old forest so new trees can grow?”

“Burn it.”

The man with the trembling hand looks between the two, warily. “What does it mean?”

Fydor turns, slowly, a shadow falling on his face. “It is quite simple, acolyte. For there to be order, there must be chaos first.”

thank you so much for reading!! 💕💕

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whatislovevavy · 1 month ago

Text

11. Strawberry Kisses & Lovers’ Reprieve

Jake Seresin x OC (Caledonia Hughes)

WC: 11.4 k (God, I’m so sorry…but I’m really not)

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+), oral ( f & m recieving), p in v, a touch of angst, Jake still needing to do some groveling, bits of fluff sprinkled throughout

AN: Thank you guys for your immense patience with this story. Hopefully the fact that it’s hella long makes up for the wait. I hope you guys like it. I put a lot of thought and effort into this one. Thank you @sebsxphia for the encouragement to write this story when it was in development, it means the world <3

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

These characters, except for Caledonia and Ella, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

The soft glow of the morning sun softly stirred you from the depths of slumber that clung to your mind like cooling tar. It couldn’t have been that early, could it? Your toes sought to stretch out, but were hindered in their efforts, ensnared by a pair of taut, strong legs. Eyes fluttering open, you were immediately met with soft, tan skin and pink, parted lips.

Has he always looked so peaceful like this?

Your lip quirked, eyes tracing over each fine feature of his face. You almost felt like you were intruding, seeing something truly vulnerable and rare, like a doe tending to her fawn in a free meadow. His soft puffs of breath washed over the crisp white pillow case, his feather-light eyelashes brushing against the soft material as you silently admired him in the morning light. You snaked your arm from between your bodies, letting the back of your forefinger brush against the slight scruff of his exposed cheek, drifting to his temple, and softly brushing some of the stray blond strands of hair away from his forehead. Your teeth find their home in your bottom lip as you gently trace his cupid bow with the pad of your forefinger. A soft sigh passed his lips that almost had you jolting against his warm body that was intimately intertwined with your own, retracting your finger with a suppressed bright grin.

It made you eternally grateful for saying yes to Jake in the frayed maroon booth of Francisco’s. You were so scared and unsure, like a newborn foal shakily coming to its feet. The memories of your arrangement came through your mind like a gale through a house on the coast.

From how he started calling you Lass the first night you started working at Penny’s bar.

When he kissed you for the first time.

Left his first love bite on your neck.

Unraveled you like no one ever had.

Held you oh so closely at the retirement gala and fiercely defended you at the turn of a dime.

How he held you securely, yet delicately.

Was so kind and understanding during your first time, and with every experience thereafter.

How he never looked at you with pity.

The immense sense of safety you felt when around him.

How much you loved him, and how much he loved you in return.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

His sleep riddled tone broke your train of thought, eyes flashing to his still closed ones. You hummed, lips morphing into a smile. A content smile grew on his lips as you gently scratched your nails along his scalp, eyes still closed. “Just thinking,” you whisper. He peaked his eyes open, letting the sunlight pass through the verdant hue of his eyes. His eyebrows rose teasingly. “Hmm, about how much of an amazing lover I am?” You bit into your lip, shaking your head as a grin overcomes your features, a soft laugh coming through your plush lips that makes him grin. “No,” you teased, softly shoving his bare chest with your hand, a soft chuckle passing his lips, “just how much has changed for the both of us since that night at Francisco's.” He hummed, letting his hand settle at your waist, gently toying with the thin material of your cotton panties that made goosebumps blossom on your skin.

“Only good things, I hope,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to your lips.

“Only good things,” you affirmed, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

His comforting smile met yours, gently nudging more and more into your personal space with an increasingly heated energy. He gently rolled you onto your back as he supported himself on his bent elbow, his finger gently running along the smooth skin of your collarbone. Softly, he separates, letting his forehead settle against your own and giving you that same charming smile that had you pouring him an extra few ounces at the bar top.

“God, you drive me crazy, Caledonia.”

Your breath hitched at the heavy sincerity of his tone that almost makes you clutch your thighs in need. And the way he said your name always, always, made you giddy.

“Aw, Jake, you just can’t get enough of me, huh?” You teased with a playful gleam in your eye. A perfect mix of playfulness and lust gliding through the waters of his irises.

"I'm not entirely to blame for that," he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, his hand sneaking under the covers to run his thumb along your hip, "You're the one laying here in your tiny pair of panties makin’ it hard to think about much else." You snorted, rolling your eyes as his infectious chuckles met your ears. He brings his lips to your own, humming at your taste as your lips meld to his, languidly making out like two well-acquainted lovers. Moans slipping past your lips as his calloused hand gently slips between your hot skin and the thin layer of your undergarment, your thigh adjusting to grant him better access. Breath hitching against his lips as the tips of his fingers meet your clit. He smirks against your lips, starting to rub the pads of his fingers over your sensitive pearl of nerves. The soft whines he pulls from you stroke his steadily beating heart, encouraging him to continue his soft, tender ministrations as his lips trail down your neck to your bare breasts, gently pulling the sheets down below you. He smiles against your skin at the feeling of your nipples stiffening in the AC. Your hips bucking in anticipation against his hand.

“Easy there, Lass.” You want to glare at him. The smug bastard. He wears his cat-got-the-cream grin as he takes your slowly stiffening peak into his mouth, softly nibbling and toying with the sensitive flesh. His tongue peaks out to tantalizingly flick at your taut nipples, almost making you taste blood with how hard you’re biting into your lip. Squirming as he softly bites down, making you cry out, almost missing him start to crawl down your body, and settle between your plush thighs. His eyes meet yours, that same playful gleam as he slides your panties down your thick thighs. Breath hitching as he leaves tender kisses along your ankle, to behind your knee to the inside of your thigh. He takes a deep breath, his cock throbbing at the sight of your bare cunt, gleaming in the morning sunlight, like morning dew on a petal. His gaze pinpoints on a single drop of your peach sweet essence that teases him as it rolls down your blush pink folds. His tongue peaks out to wet his lower lip.

“Jake.”

His eyes flashed to yours, a wry grin curving his lips, “what is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” You huffed, thighs clenching around his shoulders in the volatile brew of lust and frustration. His smile grew tenfold.

“Need your mouth.”

The taste of iron is almost present as your teeth imbed themselves into your lower lip.

He hummed, letting his hand run along the sensitive complexion of your inner thighs. His chest filling with pride at each shiver and flinch of your thighs against his feather soft caress.

“You're missing something, beautiful.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in your lust hazed state. What the hell was he- oh. “Your such a fucking tease, you know that?” His eyebrows rose vexingly, waiting for you to rectify your statement that was borderline a command to keep your sanity in check.

You licked your lips, “Please, J-Jake, I need your mouth on my pussy.”

His smirk grew into a devilish grin.

“Good girl, Lass… can't have you forgetting your manners.”

Your breathing hitched, fingers twisting harder into his locks of hair making him groan. Any defiant answer died on your lips as he toyed with your clit using the tip of his tongue. His mischievous eyes locked on yours as he teasingly flicked at your clit, caressing it with his smooth muscle. His sinful smile grew across his face as his tongue worked its steadily overwhelming magic on you, each shot of electricity making your toes curl.

“You're like m’own personal honey stash,” he chuckled, giving your flushed folds a broad lick, a deep chested groan of satisfaction meeting your ears. Eyes fluttering shut as his dextrous muscle met your plush bundle of nerves, the feeling like the return of spring after a barren winter. You can feel him rocking his hips into the mattress as he nibbled and sucked at the soaked lips of your cunt. It made your head spin thinking about how this man acted when it came to getting on his knees for you.

“So fucking perfect, taste so damn good, sweetheart.” You shivered as he growled, his tongue running through your folds, lapping up everything you offered to him. You’re helpless, laying on your back cushioned by his soft sheets and pillows as he drinks from your flushed cunt. Your thighs try to squeeze around his head but his broad hand pins one of your thighs above your hip, his free hand placing your other thigh over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. No choice, but to let him softly feast on you. “Oh, yes,” you crooned, thighs shivering as his stubble scratched at the delicate complexion of your inner thigh, your fingers threading tighter into his locks of hair making a sly grin overtake his features and eyes glint with mischief. The obscene slurps and groans from between your thighs made your cheeks heat, his hands almost trying to physically conjoin to your hips and pinned thigh. It wouldn't surprise you if you found marks in perfect resemblance to his broad hands on your thighs from his ministrations.

“Yes, yes, I missed your mouth so much,” you moaned out with a whimper. His eyes fluttering shut as your nails pierce into his scalp, weaving into his gilded tufts of hair. The tantalizing touch of the blunt-edged, ruby red nails digging into his scalp paired with the sweet, intoxicating taste that dribbled from your cunt made his spine tingle between his hips. He could definitely get used to lazy mornings like this with you, savoring and worshiping your body the way it deserved- the way it always deserved. He let his lips leave your cunt, your soft whines marking his exit. Softly, he lathed kisses on the inside of your thighs, sucking and nibbling at the tender flesh. Your mewls of pleasure and increasing neediness made the marks he left on you that much sweeter. Beautiful blotches of magenta, lavender and deep blue litter your thighs and thick hips.

He gently teased two of his thick fingers at the ingress of your cunt, letting them run through your folds and soak up the sweet nectar you always gave him an abundance of. You tugged at his hair, “Jake, please.” He chuckled against your thighs, littering one last blotch of color to his favorite canvas.

“Shh, princess, I’m just takin’ my time, no need to get hasty.”

You pouted, making him chuckle, and that saccharine grin that always made your stomach flip to grace his features. Your breath hitched as he pushed his fingers in, letting your walls embrace his welcomed digits. He whistled, “jus’ like a hot knife through butter, baby.” A fresh wave of heat courses through you at his drawl, the vice of your cunt tightening around his fingers, much to his delight. He gently brought his tongue back to your sopping cunt that gushed beautifully for him. Thrusting into your soft, welcoming embrace, his tongue danced along your clit. Toying with your sanity with each playful suck and nibble of your sensitive gem. Your hitched breaths and mewls filled his bedroom as every cohesive thought left your head. He felt your hands move frantically between grasping the back of his head and the pillow beneath your own.

"Oh, Jake."

He swore he would never get used to the wanton, sultry, desperate tone your voice took in this state. A high pitched whine left your throat as your thighs shook against his iron hold.

His fingers continuing their steady rhythm into your dripping cunt, against that sweet, delicious, little spot that had your mind hazy and incoherent syllables leaving your perfect lips. Your eyes clenched shut, silent screams, and broken cries leave your lips as he pulls your release from you. Playing your body and mind with the ease of a professional violinist in concert.

His lips lathed open-mouthed kisses along the insides of your plush thighs, gleaming eyes dancing to your teary ones as he diligently watched you return back to your body. His fingers moving at the same soft pace, relishing in your walls fluttering around his thick digits like the butterflies he got in his stomach whenever you smiled at him.

He knew you could handle another one; it was all part of making up for lost time. He softly brought his hand up, gliding it along your skin, to settle at your breast; fondling, squeezing, and pinching at your taut nipple, smirking at the noises he brought past your lips.

"Such a good girl…missed taking care of you like this," His thick, sleep graveled drawl made your walls clench around his fingers. You hummed, a soft whine passing your throat.

He grinned from his spot between your legs, "you missed that too, Lass? Missed when I took care of my pretty, little pussy? Stuffed you full with m’ fingers." You feverishly nodded, a whine passing your lips. His lips quickly advancing back to your swollen folds, languidly toying with your already sensitive clit.

A hiss leaves your throat at a particularly harsh suck, clit throbbing between his soft lips. If there was one thing you’d learned from your time with Jake, he loved, no, craved, being the best. He needed there to be no doubt in your mind that he was the best candidate for taking care of you; whether that was eating you out or fucking you into the mattress. And if that meant he made you lose your mind at the hand of his sinful tongue and intoxicating cock, then that was the sacrifice he was willing to make.

"Fuck, baby." Your sweet gasp made his cock throb against his sheets. Eyes clenched shut, your nails dug into his hand and the back of his head. He moved his fingers more diligently, feeling your pretty noises and the constriction of your walls increase so. A sharp cry left your lips as he gave a delicious suck to your clit.

You’re far too sensitive, his mouth too much.

Chest heaving as you summoned any strength you had to push his head away, your release following suit with a shriek. He shuddered at the gush of liquid downing his chin and neck, immediately forcing his way back to your dripping cunt, your hands clawing at his head and the back of his neck as he claimed your cunt again, latching back onto your poor, abused clit, letting it leave his mouth with a lecherous pop, feeling a few spurts leave your pussy as your whines of pleasure met his ears.

"Such a perfect girl, squirtin' all over me," his tone a mix between a growl and pure awe. Your thighs shook at the overwhelming feeling of his savory timbre. If all of your brain cells hadn't been fried, you might have been embarrassed. He thrusted his fingers more diligently, keeping his gaze on you.

"Come on, beautiful, I know you have at least one more for me," he purred, giving you that same panty dropper grin that made you blush at the bar top as his fingers stroked that sweet spot inside you, a string of your arousal linking his lips to your cunt, shining in the light through his curtains. Your liquid lust makes his chest and shoulders glimmer with the light peeking between the shades. You feverishly nodded, letting out a pathetic, little whimper. He wracked your lower body with the strength of his entire arm, making you mewl and cry out. Nails digging into his taut forearm, his veins bulging with exertion. You could feel your core tighten, and as he removed his fingers, your release coated his bare chest and bed sheets.

"Such a good job, Caledonia, such a good girl squirtin' around my fingers." He goaded with pride, his breathing heavy as he rubbed his open palm over your flushed folds and engorged clit. Shocks of intense pleasure racked your brain, sharp gasps leaving your lips, your hands shooting to keep his hand still.

He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips as he settled on softly rolling your tender clit between his forefinger and thumb. Your mind tried to grasp any semblance of normal brain function, but with Jake touching you oh so sinfully, it was fruitless. Your chest swelled and fell as soft sparks of pleasure shot up your body as your hands softly clutched at his own. He lathed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your plush inner thighs as you slowly came down from your high, your breathing heavy still.

Shakily, you sit up and reach out to him, bringing your lips to his, passionately savoring the heavenly combination of your taste and his natural one as your tongues meld together like metal; melting and emulsifying into a perfect alloy. He chuckled as he felt your nails tangle into his hair. Gently crawling over him, you pushed him down onto his back as you kept your lips on his with a soft thump against his sheets. A mischievous smile breaks out as you see his eyes gleam, his breath hitching at the change in position. His hard length twitched against the flesh of your ass, an immense sense of pride filling you.

You had this effect on him. No one else.

You.

Your soft breaths met his ears as you ran your palms over his toned chest, down to his chiseled abs, tantalizingly scratching your nails along his flesh, goosebumps following in their wake, head still spinning from the intense high that wracked your brain. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he watched you scoot further down to settle over his knees, his cock thick and hard, standing at attention for you. Watching as he bites his lip, his pupils fully dilated, hiding that lovely shade of green, his chest heaves as he waits with anticipation. His breath hitches as you grasp his hot, throbbing cock with the perfect amount of pressure. You spit on his dick, demanding the attention of the man below you, letting the viscous fluid dribble down from your pink lips to his sensitive tip. He twitched in your hand, making you grasp him tighter, shooting him a flirtatious smile that makes his stomach flip. His eyes clenched shut, his tongue wetting his lower lip in anticipation.

“Cal-sweetheart.”

You smirked, grasping his cock harder in your silken palm.

“I think you're forgetting something.”

He turned his chin down to get a better look at you and the bratty look in your eye.

His Adam's apple bobbed and cock twitched in your hand. Your grin widened at the sight, posture straightening at the further change in power, a special gleam in your eye he didn't see often. His broad hands knead at your thick hips and thighs.

“Cal-.”

“Come on handsome, I'm not the only one that needs to have manners.” You said wantonly as you gave his engorged length a squeeze, one of your manicured nails drawing hearts on his Adonis belt and abdominal muscles as you waited patiently. His muscles softly twitching under your tantalizing touch.

He bit his lip, a scoff bubbling from his throat making your grin widen. “Such a fuckin’ minx,” he growled. A teasing chuckle leaves your lips as you lean down to place a feather soft kiss to his swollen tip, making him sigh and eyes flutter shut. A gentle squeeze to his balls has his words leaving before he can think.

“Fuck, cal-, please.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself as you lean down, letting your tongue run up the length of him. "Fuck, sweetheart," he croaked, eyes fluttering shut. You look so perfect like this, he thought. "Missed your pretty mouth so much," he groaned, rambling as his eyes clenched shut as you playfully sucked at his red, inflamed tip. Your heart and walls fluttered at his words. "Mhm, I missed sucking your thick cock," you purred, pumping his length. His stomach jumping at your confident, lustful tone. You were getting more and more confident with each perfect, tantalizing moment with you.

Especially with that little please stunt.

And he loved every second of it.

He had a feeling you would outmatch him one day, and he needed to be the one to experience it. He’s completely entranced by your molten lapis lazuli gaze as you sucked a love bite on the underside of his throbbing dick. His eyes clenched shut with a hiss, your perfect, soft hands squeezing his balls as you continued your sinful acts. "Fuck, your mouth is perfect-so fuckin' good, Caledonia," he growled, his hips bucking into your hand. Each squeeze of your hand and impure suck to his tip had the thread of his soul reeling loose from its spindle. Every coherent thought seemed to dissipate as you soaked his cock with your perfect mouth. You held his length, giving him a sultry smile as you pushed your copper locks over your shoulder to the other side. His hand quickly intertwined with your soft, wavy hair, letting his fingers card through the strands. The way your hair glowed in the morning light and how your perfect, pink lips wrapped around his saliva soaked cock made his core tighten and heart flutter. He sighed as you gripped his hips, nails digging into his adonis belt as you brought your mouth down over his swollen dick, savoring each ridge and crevice of his fat cock with your tongue.

"Shit! So fuckin' good, baby."

If you didn't know any better, it almost sounded like the cocky, self-assured Hangman was pleading for you. You let him leave your mouth with a pop, "does that feel nice, handsome? Feeling me suck your dick like a goddamn bomb pop?" He feverishly nodded, willing to let you do whatever you want to him.

"God, I love how thick you are, feel so good in my mouth and balls deep in my pussy," you moaned out, eyes full of intense flames of lust as you stroked him with a steady rhythm.

Fuck, where did you learn to talk like that?

He realized how stupid of a question that was.

His chest heaves, his breathing shaky as low moans passed his lips as you quite literally sucked his life source from his throbbing cock. His eyes clenched shut as his load is about to burst, hips bucking into your mouth. "Oh, fuck, sweets, keep doing that, such a good girl." He choked out, his eyes rolling back as you gave him a sinful, perfect suck to his tip. You squeezed his hips harder as they became wracked with tremors, feeling his hand desperately reach the back of your head, fingers intertwining with the soft strands. “Holy shit, Caledonia.” He gritted his teeth as he groaned, his back arching as his release hit the back of your throat in thick ropes, almost startling you as his hand kept your head in place. His slightly salty taste eased you as you continued to lathe your tongue around his dick, collecting any last remnant of his release. Jake's breathing evened out as he recovered, opening his eyes to you placing a sweet, oh so tender kiss to his tip.

It would almost make him smile if it didn't make his dick twitch.

You licked your lips, letting your gaze meet his blissed out one, giggling at the sight of his bed hair, and soft, rosy cheeks. His breath hitched as you licked the last of his essence from your fingers. Crawling back up and over him, you gently placed a kiss on his lips. The taste of himself on your lips making his core ache in reinvigorated need.

"How was that?" You bit your lip, smiling with awaiting eyes. He takes a deep breath, licking his lips as he takes in the mix of your tastes, his lip lifting into a smile, making you giggle. His fingers digging into your plush hips, bringing you closer. His hand travels up to the base of your neck, bringing your lips down to his. Your soft sighs against his lips has his libido rising by the second.

In one quick motion, you’re below him, letting out a squeal of delight that morphed into a titter. His grip on your hips tighten as he towers above your sprawled out form. He stands on his haunches, spreading your legs with his broad hands. A low whistle meeting your ears, “God, I need to be inside you,” your clit tingled at the prospect, “You want me inside you, sweetheart?” You pathetically nodded. His eyes tracing your fingertips as they traverse the curves of your plush body that lead to the sensitive little pearl at the apex of your thighs, your soft fingertips gingerly rubbing at your clit.

“Please Jake, I need it so bad.”

A deep groan resonated in his chest as he manhandled your knees to hook over his shoulders, pressing onto you.

"Jake."

“Shh, baby, I'm gonna take care of you.” He murmured, fighting off the deep rooted urge to slide all in at once and fuck you till the headboard breaks. He gave you that same salacious smile you love. Running your fingernails down his torso, you nodded. His lips parting as he notches his tip at your entrance. He leans down, keeping his gorgeous evergreen gaze on you. A pitiful whimper leaves your lips as the bulbous head enters you, already stretching you. His hands quickly intertwine with your own, placing them by your head, nose nudging yours.

"Shh, it's ok, Lass, taking me so well, just breathe." You nodded, eyes glassy as you focused your gaze on him as he continued to enter you inch by inch. He can’t help but feel the warmth in his heart with each pinch of your brow and soft mewls that passed your lips as he split you open.

You’re absolutely perfect.

And you’re all his.

He smiled so softly and tenderly at you. "I love you so much, you have no idea how much I missed you," he whispered.

Your eyes starting to tear up, voice thick, "I love you too, Jake."

He leaned down, passionately, desperately kissing you like you’re the only keeper of his sanity. "I'm not going anywhere," you whimpered out against his lips, his forehead resting against your own as he gently rolled his hips into your own, fully sheathing himself into the welcoming embrace of your cunt. His rhythm has moans pouring from your lips and his bed frame rhythmically banging into the wall. Your breathing intermingles, gazes staring into one another. The focus solely on the feeling of Jake on you, holding your hands so tenderly yet firmly, and the way he throbs gently inside you with each thrust. He savors the velvet feeling of your walls around him, and the twitch of your knees against his shoulders.

Each moan and whimper spurring him on with each soft thrust, rubbing that sweet spot inside you that had you clutching onto his shoulders for dear life.

"Jake,"

He nipped at your neck, putting his entire lower body weight into his thrusts, making you gasp and cry out as he ransacked that special spot that made you see stars. Your lips muffled his groans as he continued to thrust into your perfect cunt that he would swear under oath was made for him.

"God, you feel so fucking good, Jake!" His growls and groans are a reply enough to your broken moans and gasps of breath.

You both are consumed only in each other, not the headboard banging into the wall or the possibility of Javy hearing your escapades- just the perfect mix of you and him. He lifted your hips letting him thrust with all his strength into your welcoming cunt, your walls begging him to never leave.

"Such a good fucking girl, wanna spend every mornin’ like this… God, such a perfect, tight, little pussy," you gasped and cried out as he punctuated each graveled word with a deep, perfect thrust. "You love it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" You nodded feverishly, tears welling in your eyes.

"You just feel so good, please don't stop," you choked out, the dull edges of your nails digging into his hands that encased yours. He grinned at you, placing a soft kiss to your plush lips, feeling pride swell in his chest. “Love seeing you get all teary eyed taking my dick,” he cooed. You moaned as he set a brutal rhythm, making you see entire galaxies behind your clenched shut eyes. Shuddered gasps left your throat as he leaned down to mouth at your tits, sucking at your peaks, and releasing them with gentle pops.

"Baby, look at me," he purred, his voice strained from his excursions. Your dazed gaze met his, your vision hazy from your impending orgasm. But even then, you could still make out the thin halo of green that surrounded a sea of black.

“So fucking pretty, baby.” The sight of his lust dilated eyes and the constant assault on the soft spot inside you has your sanity unraveling, your high rushing over you with broken gasps, chest heaving up into his.

“Jesus Christ, so fuckin’ tight.” He groaned with that sinful graveled tone into your ear as you mewled and shook as your high consumed you.

His eyes clenched shut as your walls choked his cock, making his release hit him like a bullet, groaning into your neck as his release painted your soft velvet walls.

You relished in the feeling of his weight on your body, softly running your fingers through his hair as his cock gently twitched in your molten cunt. Heaving breaths and the soft smell of sex filled the room as the AC hummed lowly. He gently lifted his face to meet yours, a sweet, dazed smile painting his lips, sweat beading at his hairline. You bit your lip, “good morning.” His relaxed smile morphed into a grin, “mornin', my beautiful girl.” Your grin matched his as you gently pulled him into a sweet kiss, letting your nails gingerly scratch at the base of his neck. He softly whined in protest as you pulled your lips away for air. “I have to breathe, Jacob,” you teased, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your warm gaze met his own, a soft smile on your lips that made your dimples pop. His eyes glazed over, tracing over each wisp of color in your sapphire eyes and the rouge dusting your cheeks. How did I get so lucky?

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” You whispered softly.

His lip quirked, “jus’ thinking about you,”

Your blush deepened, biting your lip to hide your grin, “only good things, I hope.”

“Only good things.” He repeated with a gentle smile.

You lightly pulled his lips back to yours, lips languidly melding with his. Savoring the taste of you on his lips that he never wanted to forget.

—

Jake’s breathing evened out as you traced the edge of your nail on his pec, gently scratching at the sparse chest hair. Your head nestled into the crook of his neck, eyes tracing over the freckles sparsely peppering his bare skin, following the tip of your finger. His fingers mindlessly toy with your wavy locks, watching the soft strands curl around his finger and the glow of that lovely copper hue in the morning light. He felt like he needed to pinch himself, just to make sure this was all real. He refrained; pinching himself may cause all of this to go away. You listened to his steady breathing, softly letting your eyes flutter shut.

“We should get cleaned up and something to eat,” you whispered against his chest. He hummed, still coming down from his high. You giggled, sitting up before rising off of the bed. Softly stretching in the morning light, bare to the world, walking towards his bathroom on shaky legs that had his chest filling with pride. Turning towards him, you leaned against the doorframe, “you coming, cowboy?” His mouth felt dry, eyes glued to your full body that was fully exposed for him to admire in the soft, golden morning light. Your eyes caught on. A playful smile tugged at your lips as you watched his eyes travel from your eyes down to the rest of your body. The gaze of others had always planted a pit of insecurity in your stomach that caused your heart to quiver. But being with Jake, he eased your insecurities. Softly and slowly, he eased you to expose yourself to him. But even in these moments there were small pockets of self-consciousness that broke through the protective layer that Jake helped to cultivate.

Soon enough he'll realize that your body type isn't what he wants.

This is all a ruse and he didn't mean it when he said he loved you.

He'll get sick of your body at some point.

You felt your lips threaten to tug into a frown, his gaze feeling more scrutinizing as he held his gaze on your body. In all the time you had known him, Jake had never been a quiet man. Maybe he didn't like how your thighs were so thick.

Or the soft flesh of your tummy.

Or how your breasts weren't as perky as with the other girls he’d been with.

He nodded, a beat of silence passing, “that sounds perfect.” There was no air of cockiness in his tone, only the heavy sincerity of his whispered words. He rose out of bed, sauntering towards you. You tried to keep your gaze on him instead of the way his cock was starting to harden again and animatedly bob with each stride. He took your hand in his, anxiety easing as he brought your hand to his lips, eyes full of love before silently leading you with him into the bathroom.

—

“Jake, stop, that tickles,” you protested teasingly as you manned the stove top, flipping the eggs and bacon in the skillet as the toast finished with a ding. His chin lifted from its place at your neck with a groan, halting the teasing rubs of his freshly shaven cheek against the column of your neck. His hands playfully squeezed your hips as he stepped away to collect the toast.

“So, sweets, do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” He placed the plate with the warm toast on the counter across from you, letting the edge press into his bare lower back as he buttered the pieces of toast. Shutting the burner off with a click, you grabbed both of the filled plates before joining him at the countertop. You could feel his eyes settled on where his shirt barely covered the curve of your panty-clad ass. The attention made your cheeks heat. Granted, you should have been used to it by now, but it was so hard to adjust when every time he looked at you, your entire body heated up like a fireplace. And his bare chest on display certainly didn’t help. Or the fact you could trace out the bulging veins in his forearms.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I have a shift at Penny’s later tonight, but besides that I’m free.” He turned to lean on his elbow against the counter to face you while he held his plate, eagerly digging into his breakfast. You leaned forward against the counter, foraging at the strawberries Jake had cut up earlier. He smiled around his piece of toast, “glad to hear it, I was hoping for a few more hours with you.” He teased, pinching under the curve of your ass as your blush bloomed on your cheeks. You swatted at him, his chuckles meeting your ears. He placed his plate down, moving to embrace his arms around you, the small droplets of water from the shower falling onto your neck and shirt. You yelped as his broad hands grasped the underside of your thighs, placing you onto the edge of the countertop, out of the way of your plates of food. Your chuckles died down as your gaze met Jake’s playful one. His thumbs rubbed small circles on your hips as he stepped between your spread thighs. The back of his finger gently caressed your cheek. Your teeth digging into your bottom lip, hands gently rubbing at where his broad shoulders met his neck, fingers occasionally toying with the chain of his dog tags. Your eyes traced over the fine features of his face, fingers cradling the back of his head, leaning down to kiss his passion-swollen lips.

Groaning against your lips, he pulled away.

“I meant what I said last night and this morning…about being in love with you. I don't want you to feel that it was just in the heat of the moment for me.” He softly whispered, as if it were a secret from the rest of the world. Your eyebrows rose a little, your heart warming. “I know Jake. It wasn't a heat of the moment deal for me either. I love you too. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.” He reassured.

“I know relationships are a complicated thing for you,” you diverted your gaze to your fingers playing with the pebbled chain of his dog tags, “but if you get scared or anxious, please don't pull away and make a rash decision. Be open with me. Talk to me.”

His warm eyes melted more if that was possible.

He nodded, murmuring “I will, promise.” His nose touches yours before he places a sweet kiss to your lips. He hummed at the taste of strawberries on your lips.

“Glad to see you guys made up.”

Javy’s voice made you jolt against Jake, trying to discreetly reach to slide Jake's shirt under your ass, much to Javy's amusement and Jake's disgruntlement.

Javy made his way to the coffee maker with an amused expression on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee. You could feel Jake's hands tighten on your waist.

“Coyote, I thought you were at Delilah’s.” Javy smirked around the rim of his mug at Jake's tone. He leaned against the opposite counter, an amused expression on his face as he took in his much more kept together appearance; shaved cheeks, diminished bags under his eyes.

“Good morning to you, too. I got back late last night after dropping her off for her red eye for her business trip.” Javy grinned, diverting his gaze to you. “Hey, Caledonia.”

“Hey, C-Coyote” you stammered, cheeks flushed.

“You know, we were kind of having a moment. Alone.” Jake bit back, attitude rolling off of his tongue, as he tried hiding your body with his. That only made Javy smile all the more.

“Sorry, I must have missed the part where this was your kitchen.” He placed his mug in the sink. “But really, I'm happy for you both. He was much more tolerable when you both were messing around.” Jake continued to glare at him, his grip on you getting more and more possessive the more your cheeks heated. “Oh, and if you guys decide to utilize the counter, use the Lysol afterwards.” Javy winked at Jake, giving him a pat on his bare shoulder and stealing a strawberry as he passed, heading towards the front door, closing it with a click. As soon as the door closed, you giggled into Jake's chest, a mix of amusement and mortification filling your chest.

“God, I'm gonna kill him.”

Your laughter brought his gaze down to you.

“He's just being supportive.”

“Yeah, well, I wish he wouldn't look at you while he's being so supportive.” Jake huffed.

“Jake…”

“What? I don’t like him looking at what’s mine, especially when you’re looking like a wet dream out of a Playboy Magazine.”

Your smile grew with the shivers that ran along your spine at his tone.

“I wouldn’t say that-” Your eyes diverted from him to focus on the tiled floor. Your hair was still messy from your roll in the sheets and shower, and your eyes still felt sticky with sleep.

He gently lifted your chin to meet his gaze.

“I would. Every time.”

You swallowed at his tone that dripped with loving sincerity. He grinned, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quickly reaching your lips with a deep hum.

If you had a mirror, you’d assume your face was the color of fully-bloomed roses.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, lewdly persuading entrance to tangle with your own. You moaned against his mouth as he gently laid you back against the cold countertop, his mouth trailing down your neck, gently teasing your pert nipples through the cotton of his Navy shirt with his expert tongue.

“Jake-”

He hummed, “What is it, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers tugged down your panties to the cold tile floor with a soft thump. His hands pushed your shirt up over your head to expose your lush breasts to his warm touch, flinging the piece of cotton onto the couch.

“We don’t know when Javy’s getting back.” Your hands coming up to cover your bare chest.

His eyebrows furrowed in amusement, a gentle smirk on his lips.

“Javy always does his errands on Saturday mornings. He’ll be gone for a good few hours.”

You swallowed, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Plus, he was right about one thing.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, his nose trailing along your neck as his lips reached the shell of your ear. His hands gently move to replace yours on your breasts.

“The counter would be smart to utilize while he’s gone.” He nipped at your earlobe, relishing in the soft moan and shudder than accentuated his improper words and actions. His eyes rose to meet yours as his broad hands pushed down on the counter to show its sturdiness with a smirk.

“We’ve barely touched our breakfast, and-” you words paused on your lips as his hands squeezed at your hips and thighs, nudging them further apart, “don’t you get tired of being this horny?”

Deep chested grumbles of laughter bubbled up as he brought his lips to yours.

“You just have that effect on me, sweetheart, and I have a lot of time to make up for.” He teased with a grin, gently running the pad of his forefinger through your already soaked folds.

“And it feels like to me, you don’t seem to mind.” He husked.

Your chest heaved with a shortness of breath you didn’t know you had. You pulled his lips to yours, moaning against his now strawberry sweet lips. A sharp whine leaving your own as he eased two of his thick fingers into your molten, awaiting cunt.

“Easy there, Lass, I’ll take care of you.” His saccharine grin made you realize you would be on this counter for as long as time would allow.

—

“So I noticed your car was parked here this morning.”

Penny’s amused tone made you almost drop the clean glass in your hand.

“Yeah,” you awkwardly chuckled, “I stayed the night with a friend.” You gave her a tight lipped smile. Penny’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t press. Her typical kind smile passed her lips, “Well I’m glad to see you got over Hangman. You’re too good for him, and he’s still not welcome here.” You swallowed as her eyes grew ever sharper with each word.

“Yeah,” you fiddled with the towel and the glass in your hand, “well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” You bit your lip as her face grew concerned. Your eyes darted around the empty bar, hoping to find something to take the edge off of the conversation. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes focus back on her.

“Hang-,” you cleared your throat, “Jake came by here last night.” Penny’s posture straightened as her eyebrows furrowed.

Your eyes grew wide in panic, “But it’s ok! He came by to apologize to me.” The sharpness in Penny’s gaze dulled as your tone and words registered. “And, I spent the night with him.” You breathed out. “He told me he loves me.”

Penny’s gaze was trying to fight for any semblance of sharpness. She’d known Hangman for years before you came along. Seen all the hookups that transpired in her bar because of his charm, and the inevitable wreckage afterwards. And not once did he have the decency to apologize for breaking a poor girl’s heart. Much less tell them he loved them and make up with them.

“Even after we… did things.”

You frankly didn’t know what compelled you to share that detail. Maybe it was because Penny had become a maternal figure to you during your time at grad school and you could be vulnerable with her about this. She would probably know more than most, given her history with Maverick. You bit your lip, hoping and praying that Penny wouldn’t tear Jake to shreds if he stepped foot into the Hard Deck. Penny had had her fair share of relationships and only one of them resulted in her being told she was loved after sex- Maverick. Penny’s eyes reverted to the same trademark warmth she always looked at you with, a small smile on her face. “I’m glad you and Hangman made up, but if he hurts you… promise me you’ll tell me. Ok?”

You nodded, ”Does this mean Jake is ok to come back to the Hard Deck?”

She breathed through her teeth, before chuckling, “I think you’ll need to clear the air with Phoenix first. My jurisdiction only goes so far. If she sees him here, she’ll do a lot worse than punch him in the nose.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Did Nat punch him in the nose?”

—

“Well, you’re looking better.”

You quickly turned at the sound of Phoenix’s encouraging tone. Her eyes tracing over your lush, wavy hair and your scintillating blood moon manicured nails that made your eyes pop.

“And it looks like it in more ways than one too.” She smirked, eyes tracing over the poorly concealed hickey.

Your blush spread like waves over a shoreline, bringing your hand up to hide the mark with a nervous smile.

“Yeah, I’m feeling better since last night.”

You swallowed as your eyes darted to see Bob settle against Phoenix at the bar top. Giving Bob a smile, you placed a cup of peanuts from under the bartop in front of him.

Phoenix smiled at the gesture.

“So did you end up going out with Halo’s friend from the gym?” Bob asked before scooping some peanuts into his mouth.

You always admired how perceptive Bob was. He could piece together a conversation like the snap of his finger.

“N-no, I didn’t.” You bit at your lip.

I really hope they don’t kill me for this, you thought.

“Well,” Phoenix urged on, “was it somebody who came in last night?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously puffing out laughter.

“You could say that.”

Her eyes lit up, “Ok, so who’s the lucky guy… or girl?” she teased.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

Phoenix had been encouraging you to explore your sexuality since the whole situation with Hangman went down the drain. Well, before Jake pulled it out of said drain less than 24 hours ago.

You bit your lip, “Um.” You swallowed.

Phoenix’s eyebrows furrowed and Bob watched on with piqued interest.

“Jake came by last night.”

You internally winced as both of their smiles fully faded.

“Cali…” Phoenix’s voice was laced with frustration and pity, the latter burning the most.

“I know it sounds bad, but-”

“How could you take him back?” Phoenix’s voice rattled your heart. Bob stood by silently. But his face spoke the words just said.

You took a breath, swallowing “he came by to apologize.”

Her gaze softened. But only slightly so.

You still slept with him, again, She thought.

But then again, Hangman didn’t apologize. Ever.

“And, he told me he’s in love with me.”

And he most definitely didn’t tell hookups he loved them. Much less in love with them. In fact, in time Phoenix knew him, Jake never had anything serious with anyone. Not even a date.

Phoenix and Bob exchanged looks.

“And that he can’t let me go again.” You finished, watching them apprehensively as you toyed with your nails.

“I just don’t want you to punch him again.” You softly state.

Phoenix took a breath, before scoffing.

“It doesn’t excuse him from what he did-”

“I know that-”

“But, nothing. You’re too good for him, and how can you trust he won’t hurt you again?”

You swallowed, trying to stave off tears.

Bob winced at her words. Phoenix was right to be concerned. Angry, even.

But he saw how Jake had changed since spending time with you, and how he was when you ended your arrangement. That had to mean something more than what words alone could reveal. There was even a running joke regarding how much time Hangman spent with Caledonia, even just helping her at the Hard Deck.

“Nat,” Bob interrupted.

She turned to him, eyes still bright with fire. “You’ve seen how he’s been lately and how he was before.” Her jaw tensed. Of course Bob had a point. He always had a point.

A thick silence settled over your corner of the bar top as regulars started to trickle in.

“I can’t explain how I know, but I just know that he means it.” You turn your gaze from Bob to Natasha, making your stance clear.

She sighed, “look, I just want you to be safe and happy, and if you truly believe he can be that for you… then he’s in serious trouble if he hurts you again.”

You embrace Nat in a hug that has her a bit startled. Sniffling, “I will. Thank you.”

You pull away, wiping away the last remnant of your tears with your apron.

“Promise me you’ll take it easy on him on base? Well, easier?” Your borderline plea made Natasha purse her lips before breathing out of her nose.

“Yeah, I’ll do my best. But if he starts something, I have my right to respond with a full arsenal.”

Your lip tipped up into a grin.

“I hope you know that you’re the only person I would ever do this for. You know that right?”

You nodded, cheeks aching from your grin. A regular had called you over, excusing yourself from your friends. Phoenix and Bob watched on as you served drinks.

“Hangman better watch out if something happens to her. He doesn’t know what he’s got in a girl like her.” She huffed, snagging a peanut from his cup.

“I think he does now.” Bob’s quiet comment stops her mid chew.

His gaze still on you across the bar before turning to her.

She huffed again. She had a scintilla of belief that Bob was right.

—

Your shift passed you like a blur, lost in the fluid routine of serving drinks and orders. The comfort of familiarity flooding your fingertips and eased your senses. The laughter of your friends around the pool tables and Penny’s words of encouragement as things got busier as the night went on made you feel at home again.

“Here’s a whiskey neat for you.” You smiled, turning back to where the beer taps were, grabbing more glasses from underneath the polished wood.

“Excuse me, Darlin’.”

Your eyes darted up to a voice that had excitement thrumming through you, your grin barely contained. Evergreen eyes greeted you, “a whiskey neat on my tab please.” His bright grin soon matched yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked warmly as you made his drink.

“Penny texted me saying I could come back to the Hard Deck.” His lip quirking, “On the condition that I help you close up after your shifts for the foreseeable future.” He chuckled, letting his lips tilt into a smile, “and I wanted to see you.”

He leaned in closer to you, his eyes tracing your full lips up to your eyes that held so much warmth. “She did mention that I needed to worry about Phoenix, though.”

You snorted. “I think you’ll be ok, just stay here at the bar top with me. I’ll protect you.” Your playful wink made his chest rumble with laughter.

Jake stayed at his spot at the bartop, even when you slipped away to serve drinks. The more you were gone, the more exposed he felt, and the more he felt his confident facade was weakening. He could still feel a bounty on his head, hence the lack of appeal the pool tables held for him tonight. He took sips of his drink, keeping his gaze on you.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face here.” He almost flinched at the familiar baritone. He turned, met with a questionable choice of Hawaiian shirt and a mustache he could barely stand.

“But given how miserable you were, it’s not entirely a surprise you came crawling back to her. And by the looks of it, she took you back.” He stated more flatly.

“Hey, Rooster, can I grab you something?” you asked sweetly, eyes darting from Jake’s to the aviator in front of you.

“Yeah, Rooster, what do you want? It’s on me.” Bradshaw’s eyebrows shot up as Jake laid down his card on the glossy surface. Bradshaw eyed him suspiciously before diverting his gaze to you. “One Blue Moon, please, thanks.”

You smiled at Jake, taking his card.

As you turned away to grab his glass, Bradshaw was back to facing the last man he thought he’d see tonight.

Jake took a sip of his drink, rocking the glass in his hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m trying to make it right.” Bradshaw couldn’t find a sliver of anything to indicate Jake had ill intent, making his eyebrows furrow for a split second.

“Here’s your beer, enjoy.” You smiled at Bradley.

“Here’s your card, baby.” You leaned in giving Jake a kiss, sliding the card over the bartop to him. Bradshaw had only seen Hangman blush when he was relentlessly teased in the break room and locker room. It was…different, to see Jake blush when the reason for it was right in front of him. As soon as you were there, you were whisked away to serve another customer. Bradshaw’s gaze followed you before turning to Jake, seeing the smile on his face. Not a cocky, confident smile, but a genuine one that was getting less and less rare with you around.

“I don’t know what she sees in you, but you better not fuck up again.” Bradshaw’s tone didn’t hold the same bite it had before. His hand gave an attempt of a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning to leave. Some semblance of an olive branch being passed to him.

“I won’t.” Jake said just before Bradshaw left ear shot, saying it more to himself than anyone.

As your shift progressed members of the team came and passed, relations settling at the sight of you and Jake at the bar top when you weren’t being pulled away to serve customers. Soon the end of your shift had arrived and your friends waved goodbye and some even acknowledged Jake as they left. Phoenix’s gaze towards him as she waved goodbye wasn’t as sharp as it had been the past few weeks. The last chair was stacked above the tables and soon you were dragging Jake out of the Hard Deck with you after bidding Penny a goodnight. Penny’s watchful yet warm gaze settled on you both as Jake held the door for you to go outside, and followed you till your cars left the parking lot, heading in the same direction.

—

"Well, who is this little miss?" Jake crouched down in the hallway and let your new addition to the Benjamin's home softly sniff at his hand and rub her head against his leg.

"Oh, um, that's Chanel. I got her a few weeks ago,” you replied.

"Chanel," Jake tried out, "that's a very pretty name for a very pretty girl," he cooed as she let him scratch under her chin and purred. You smiled at the sight, "she's been a little shy around…well, everyone. It's nice that she's warming up to others." A snort left you as Jake tried to stand up, but was met with charged meows of protest.

"I'm sorry, Chanel, I thought I gave you enough attention…but you're just like your mama, can't get enough." He winked at you, making you smile and your cheeks warm.

"Where'd you find this little attention magnet?"

"There's an animal shelter near the lab that was having a meet and greet. Ella took me when… when you ended things.” You tried to push down the somber thoughts that threatened to bubble up after all the positive progress that was made tonight. Jake's gaze softened at your words. “She was huddled in the back of the room, so I took her home." You could feel your eyes get teary at the resurface of the freshly scabbed wounds. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his lips pointed in a slight frown. “I’m so sorry, Caledonia.” Your eyes met his heavy, sincere ones as he gently took your hand in his soft grasp.

“I should never have done what I did to you.”

You bit the inside of your lip, taking a step closer to him, gently cupping his freshly shaved cheeks. Letting your thumbs rub against his smooth skin.

“I know you’re sorry, and,” you took a breath, “I forgive you.”

Jake feels his heart beat halt in his chest. He couldn’t describe in words how much those three words meant to him. “But you should know, I don’t give out second chances easily, and…for what it’s worth, Phoenix clocking you is quite the punishment.”

You gently ran your fingers along the edge of his nose.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling his lip quirk.

“You heard about that, huh?”

He cringed a bit as your lip tilted into a smile.

“Surprisingly, Penny was less discreet about it than your colleagues.” You breathed out a chuckle. He watched as Chanel trotted to your crouched down form, circling in front of you, sliding your open palm along her arched back, her tail that rivaled that of a Swiffer duster oscillating above her. Jake knew he would do whatever it took to stay with you. He’d already been given a chance he didn’t deserve and he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it. His warm jade gaze watched on as you gingerly picked her up as little trills and chirps left her, supporting her, and gingerly stroking her chin as she closed her eyes. "Do you wanna come upstairs? Watch something?" His gaze snapped to your own, nodding.

"Sure," he murmured.

—

“You, know, I haven’t taken you out on a proper date, yet.” Jake whispered, his warm gaze shifting from Chanel’s purring form between you both on the bed to your bright ocean blue one already on his.

“Glad to hear that’s where your mind is at after watching the X-Files with me, lover boy.”

His grin widened at your teasing tone. He scooted closer on his side, leaning down to kiss your ever-so sweet lips.

“I’m serious. I want to do this right with you.”

Your heart pulsed all the faster, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, warping your smile.

He took a breath. “Ms. Hughes, would you do me the honor of going out with me this Saturday night?”

Your blush bloomed on your cheeks like a field of poppies. He watched tentatively as you tilted your head to the side, gaze diverting as if thinking hard about the question.

You sucked in air through your teeth, “Hm, I don’t think I can.” Jake’s face dropped. “There’s this guy I really like that asked me out, and well, he’s sweet and very well endowed. And I don’t think I can say no to him. I’m sure you can understand.” You playfully examined your scarlet red manicured nails, fighting to keep your resolve neutral. His eyebrows furrowed, before a teasing smile lit up his features.

“Hm, well endowed, huh?” His eyes matched your gleam.

You hummed in agreement, “Yeah, he’s always calling me Lass and, well, he recently came to his senses about me, and,” you pursed your lips, tucking some hair behind your ear, “I don’t think I can say no to him.”

Laughter bubbled up his throat, shaking his head as he gently brought your lips to his, taking in your sweet hums and sighs. He slid his tongue into your mouth, scooting closer into your personal space, almost forgetting that Chanel was settled comfortably between you both. Her meows and yowls of discontentment separating both of you with a jolt. His eyes darted from her lounging form back to your eyes, chuckles passing both of your lips.

“Well, it sounds like I have some competition.” He murmured, eyes bright with that teasing glint you loved.

You hummed in agreement, gently running your fingers over Chanel’s delicate fur, your playful eyes meeting his.

“Is he also hoping to pick you up at 8 on Saturday?”

Your smirk widened.

“Somewhere in that ballpark.” You teased.

“Somewhere in that ballpark?” Jake scoffed, “doesn’t really sound like you're too wild about this ‘well endowed’ guy if you can’t even remember when he’s supposed to pick you up.”

Your smile broke out into a grin at his playful tone, his chuckles soon following yours.

You placed a sweet kiss to his lips, your noses brushing.

“I’d love to go out with you on Saturday night.”

Jake could have sworn his cheeks hadn’t hurt this much from a grin in his entire life. Chanel jumped down from the bed, opening up more space for you to lay closer to Jake. His grin widening as you promptly filled the space.

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 8.” He whispered, leaning his lips down closer to yours.

You pulled away, slightly out of breath.

“One question, though-”

“Anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “can we still do our fun, little lessons together?”

His eyebrows shot up.

Can we still do our fun, little lessons together?

He smirked, that charming smile bubbling below the surface.

Fun, little lessons, huh?

“Yeah, Lass, we can still do our fun, little lessons. We go as long or as short as you want, remember?”

Your eyes diverted away before your grin took over, bringing your eyes back to his.

“I mean, we’ve definitely covered a lot of bases.” You murmured, toying with your nails as you let your head settle into where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Yeah, we definitely have,” he chuckled, his hands rubbing soothingly along your back and waist as he mentally tallied off the list.

“There’s still some more things I want to try with you, though…that we didn’t get to add to the list.” He murmured against your forehead as he gave you a soft kiss.

You hummed, the body heat encasing you making you realize just how tired you really were, “Like what?”

He leaned his head back against your bed frame, your body adjusting to lean against him. His hand taking hold of one of your own, gently running his thumb along the back of your hand. His eyes drawing to the deep red hue of your nails that suited you well.

“Well, Lass, I was thinking you might like being tied up a little. We still have those fuzzy blue handcuffs to try out,” he noticed the slight clench of your thighs at the statement, making him grin. He didn’t have to see your face to know it was beginning to bloom like the Indian paintbrush flowers that grew in his family’s garden.

“Maybe you’d like it if we brought some whipped cream and chocolate into the mix, maybe some ice cubes-”

Your core stirred at the idea of licking delectable treats off of his body. And him doing the same to you.

“Ice cubes?”

“Yeah, Lass,” he chuckled, through his drawl, “Ice cubes, it feels mighty fine from what I’ve seen and heard, especially on your pretty clit and tits.”

You sighed, feeling your horniness start to brew.

“And I was thinking maybe we could try some role playing, we never did try out that mini skirt we bought, and I have a nice suit in my closet, and, forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you strike me as someone who had the hots for one of your professors in college.” He smirked as you blushed, fully taking in the proposed scenario. You couldn’t deny his hunch.

“And I was thinking anal might be something you’d like to try.” Your head shot up, eyes widening as you met his warm gaze, like melted jade simmering in a cauldron, his smirk still drawing your attention. You’d never even considered anal as something you would want to try, but you couldn’t deny the quick flash of excitement in your clit at the idea.

“But we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing.” He quickly reassured. He still had the sapphire blue heart cut crystal butt plug from Myrtle’s shop, and he could always return it. But he swore he could see a glint of excitement in your eyes regarding the topic.

“What else do you want to try?” Your breathless tone made him smile and heart buzz with excitement.

“Well, I was thinking, if you’re up for it, we could use some more of the sex toys we bought, you could also take the lead with some of them if you’d like, like the cockring we bought,” he cleared his throat, a blush starting to work its way up his neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed before a gentle smile took over. His demeanour when talking about taking control and relinquishing it always differed in a peculiar way.

“I’d like to try taking more control with you…Too bad the cockring is at your place.” You whispered coquettishly.

His eyebrows shot up as your body rose for you to maintain eye contact with him. His eyes followed your every move as you settled onto his lap, letting your sharp nails scratch down the material of the front of his shirt. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“We do have to be careful. Penny and Amelia are probably asleep.” You whispered out as he huffed.

Right. He forgot you didn’t have your own place.

“We’ll just have to be quiet then, handsome.” You smirked, bringing your lips down to his.

He moaned against your lips, completely trapped under your body and your sweet, delicious lips consuming him.

—

Jake gently closed your bedroom door with a soft click after you gave him many kisses goodnight and made him promise to visit you on your shift tomorrow. He quietly crept down the stairs. He didn’t need Penny and Amelia to be upset with him, again, for waking them up. His footsteps fell soft against the hardwood flooring as he stepped into his shoes.

“This seems a bit more comfortable than going out the window.”

Jake almost jumped out of his skin, quickly turning to see Amelia at the counter with a glass of water and her plaid pajamas. A displeased expression on her face, making him nervous.

“Amelia, you’re up late-”

“So are you.” She quipped, eyes sharp.

He sighed. Right. It made sense that Amelia would be mad at him.

“Listen, Amelia,” he ran his hand over his face,” me and Caledonia-”

“Just don’t break her heart again.”

He swallowed, watching the teenage girl maintain eye contact that matched her sharp tone before gathering her things and disappearing up the stairs.

The door clicked shut behind him, his shoes crunching under the gravel of their driveway. He turned back to look at the window he crawled out of weeks prior. His lip quirked at the memory of your sweet smile and words that soothed him like balm on the cracks in his heart.

I forgive you.

Taglist:

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#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #learning from the best #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #tgm #glen powell #jake seresin fic #jake and caledonia #jake seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin smut

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1moreff-creator · 4 months ago

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Extra DRDT CH2 Episode 12 Thoughts

Heya! After making my last post where I just live-blogged my immediate reaction to the episode, I had a few more thoughts that I figured I should write down somewhere. They’re all too small for their own posts, but I still think they’re worth sharing.

Spoilers for CH2 EP12

CW: Murder, hanging, suicide.

The Water Thing

This episode brought up two interesting points which had rarely, if ever, been discussed within the fandom: Arei’s body swinging, and her body temperature and its connection to water. And while I’m relatively sure I saw one or two people mention the swinging at some point, the temperature issue is certainly a new one.

The swinging was explained in the trial: Arei’s body was hung shortly before it was found. But J says something interesting; the corpse should have been warm, unless it was drenched in water and dried. Paraphrasing a bit, but you get the point.

However, I actually don’t think this is a big deal, just adds a slight addendum to previous murder theories. We know the killer dumped the fish in the playground to confuse time of death, so I believe the killer likely splashed Arei with the water to cool her down. This is assuming they even thought about the body temperature, but I don’t think this is a large assumption to make.

I have seen people claim that Arei’s hair looks somewhat wet in the BDA, which… maybe? Anyways, this idea would explain that as well.

This might even give us Possible Explanation Number I Lost Count for the damn missing glove. Maybe it got particularly wet and the culprit worried it wouldn’t dry quickly enough? If people discovered a dripping wet bowling glove, the whole “using fish to confuse the time of death” thing would kinda go straight out the window. I have no idea if that makes any amount of sense, I don’t see why the glove would dry any slower than the rest of her clothes, but oh well.

Arturo’s Talent, and his Recap Foil: Levi

(Here’s the link to the original Recap Foil Theory post by gleamingtempest, in case you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Kinda forgot this was a thing when first watching the episode, but now looking back on it, there’s some neat foiling going on. Levi and Arturo’s backstory already were somewhat opposites in some aspects: Arturo got away from home himself while Levi was disowned, though Levi seems to hold a higher degree of respect for his family in comparison to Arturo. Levi is (now confirmed!) a murderer with no remorse, while Arturo accidentally caused Felicity’s death to some extent and clearly feels guilty about it. Etcetera.

Well, we can add a new detail to this foil! Arturo’s been training his talent since he was twelve, while Levi has admitted since introduction that he’s “a novice to fashion.” Neat detail, and certainly adds to this theory.

Terumin VS Xanvid

Thanks to Haru for pointing this out, but Teruko’s “I’ll fix my mistake” echoes Min’s “I’ll fix your mistake” from her Argument Armament. As I mentioned in the linked post, it’s cool that Teruko is taking a sort of Min-like attitude to her mistakes while calling Xander out, while David is taking Xander’s side in the same trial he calls Min pathetic. Foils and all that.

(Doomed Yuri V Doomed Yaoi, fight!)

This makes me hopeful that Min will still have some importance later. But I’m probably just coping.

What Was David Cooking?

I am kinda sick of talking about this man, frankly. I blame the almost three hour video I made on his MV. But oh well, he’ll stop being center focus soon enough. For now, His Deal is still one of the most central aspects of the episodes, so discuss him I will.

There are two big points of contention with what he said this trial. First, what does he remember about Xander? Second, what was he actually trying to do by pretending to be Arei’s murderer?

The first is pretty simple to assume, I think. David remembers whatever Xander did to become the Ultimate Rebel, and respects him as a result. Especially since Xander’s numeral I in LGI, the Footnote 14 code solved by y-prime, is “I have always looked up to you.”

I don’t think David has Hope’s Peak memories, despite his weird wording with “even if you all lost a year of memories.” He specifically says he and Xander had never met in his Prologue introduction, before they had any real reason to believe they’d lost memories. The LGI video also doesn’t add anything, because… well, it’s not a Milgram MV. It doesn’t come from his memories, it exists purely in meta. This is evident from the comments referencing Byakuya, Nagito and Kokichi, characters these people should have no knowledge of as Veronika claims not to remember anything like the DRDT killing game happening before; certain references to conversations and details David shouldn’t be aware of (mainly in numeral placement), etc.

(While I was writing that, the dev seemingly clarified that David does not have Hope’s Peak memories, then deleted the tweet, so. Just in case, there’s the full reasoning)

The second one is trickier. David is following Xander’s ideals, but that’s all we know. We don’t have a concrete idea of what Xander’s ideals really were, and it’s even harder to know what David thinks Xander’s ideals were.

David: I’m sure he had a good reason. I believe that he did. Xander is not the kind of person to do anything for frivolous purposes.

He believes Xander had a good reason for trying to kill Teruko, he says he’s sure of it, but he never implies to know exactly what the reason was. And if he doesn’t know the exact reason, he can’t for sure say what ideal Xander was upholding by doing what he did.

But, he knows what Xander was trying to do; kill everyone. Because if it was just Teruko, he wouldn’t have tried to mislead people with the CD thing. Although, Xander was following that one note that said to “kill Teruko Tawaki,” so it could potentially be targeted.

So, taking credit for Arei’s murder to try and kill everyone is because Xander tried to do something similar. But the deeper reason he gave, about the nature of the killing game, is it true?

(Apologies in advance for the particularly horrible collage. I am without a reliable computer atm)

David [Annoyed]: Ugh, fucking fine. You want an answer so badly? Any answer?

[Face covered] …

I…

[Sweating] Ah… We’re… in a television show, after all. That’s… what MonoTV said, right?

“Entertainment” is an ongoing show.

If Min successfully got away with the very first murder and escaped while we all died, isn’t that way less interesting for a TV show?

What’s the point of roping 14 other people into one murder, only to kill them all off immediately?

The killer is supposed to fail and get executed. We’re all supposed to catch the killer, again and again, and participate in trial after trail. You’re *supposed* to try to survive.

All of you, who are trying to slice these class trials to continue living on are playing straight into MonoTV’s hands.

[Confident] As if I’ll accept that.

I don’t care how low I’ll sink, or how despicable I’ll have to become. I’ll do anything to carry on Xander’s ideals by ending this killing game, even if it means that I have to dirty my hands.

Oh, this man is lying out his ass.

This is not an answer you hesitate over if it’s true. The words David is saying are neutral; the show is meant for entertainment, and it’s not entertaining if people die early. There’s no controversy there, no reason to be nervous. Especially since Eden’s already come to the same conclusion.

Veronika: You know, Eden once thought of an interesting plan to end the killing game. Based on everything we know, it could theoretically work.

[…]

To make a television show so boring they have no choice but to shut it down.

All we have to do is nothing.

You’re not supposed to be sweating when you’re effectively repeating something Eden said, even if under a different context.

First, David says he’ll give “any answer”, already making anything he says shady. Then, he seems to deliberate on what to say, which is already suspicious.

The most notable thing is that when he starts talking about the TV show, and what it means for it to be entertaining, he still hesitates. If his plan really was to make the TV show boring, once he decides to spill the beans, there’s nothing to hesitate about.

He only regains his confidence at the end, ironically when he’s saying the actually insane stuff. He finally finds the character he was trying to play and actually says something true; he wants to uphold Xander’s ideals and end the killing game. But I really don’t think it’s because he wants to make it boring.

In other words, he’s not lying about wanting to follow Xander and end the killing game, but his explanation about the entertainment has nothing to do with that. It’s way too simple of an explanation for the amount he hesitates. At least, that’s what I think, I may be wrong.

That brings us to the question; if he didn’t take the blame to make the game boring, why did he do it?

Well, currently and without too much confidence, I believe it has to do with Xander’s secondary goal; killing Teruko Tawaki.

One of the most well-accepted theories in the community is that David’s secret, “everything in your life is worth killing over [and] the killing game is all your fault,” isn’t Xander’s, but Teruko’s.

(In fact, side theory: I’m betting (on little evidence) that by the end of the trial, it will be David with his fanboy knowledge to point out that the “survivor’s guilt” secret that Min “received” was actually Xander’s, and reveal by process of elimination (since it’s likely going to be revealed in the trial that Hu has Veronika’s secret and Veronika has Hu’s, assuming those theories are true) that Min has the poison secret. It’s a bit of a wild prediction, but I think it’s a reasonable possibility to how the series would go about confirming the secrets of the dead)

That, combined with the fact that Xander followed a note that told him to kill Teruko, would certainly be enough for David to decide that Teruko’s gotta die. And killing everyone in the class trial is probably the best way to ensure that happens, since David probably doesn’t hunk attacking her directly is a good idea. If Xander, physically the strongest student in the cast, couldn’t get past Teruko’s luck, what the hell is David supposed to do? Especially now that she carries a knife, though I’m not sure David knows that.

It’s not even that out of nowhere; in the LGI video, Teruko’s numeral XIII appears next to a quote regarding the child of Omelas among other things. Very long story (skip to 1:22:22 in this video for the full explanation), but the child of Omelas is someone who must suffer so everyone else can live in a perfect world. It’s possible David thinks of Teruko, for one reason or another, as the Omelas child; she’s gotta die so everyone can be happy. She is someone “deeply unloved” after all.

Now, is this a stretch? Certainly. But I don’t think David’s telling the truth about his motivations, and I think this is one of the more likely options as to what exactly he was cooking here. I’m sure there’s better explanations out there, I just haven’t seen them :v

David VS Whit

I kinda skipped over the “Red Herring pun to David Freakout” line at first, but I think it’s pretty interesting that David gets so mad at Whit’s behavior. They are Recap Foils, so it makes sense they’d have strong emotions towards each other.

In particular, I’d like to point out how David gets mad at Whit for something similar to what he does as a motivational speaker.

I mentioned it in the previously mentioned section of my LGI analysis, but I believe part of the reason David hates Teruko is that he sees himself in her (pessimistic, thinks the world won’t change, etc), and this would be the other side of that. David constantly says things he doesn’t believe to make people happy, and he considers that to be pretty stupid, so it makes sense for him to get frustrated when seeing Whit doing something similar, trying to raise spirits by telling jokes. Looking at Whit is sorta like looking in a mirror, and David hates that. The mirror in LGI is labeled “reflection is due” for a reason.

I’m not fully sure this works 100%, but I think it’s at least worth considering.

Updates on Eden!Culprit Levi!Accomplice

In case you’re new here, here’s a link to my post detailing the Eden!Culprit Levi!Accomplice theory, which I came up with alongside some other theorists, and is what I currently believe the murder to be. My thoughts on possible character motivation and the such have shifted a bit since then, but the important part is the physical evidence. In particular, the combination of Lockdown Logic to determine Eden most likely took the tape from the gym and the Fish Timeline to determine someone else must have helped her get the fish, combined with the overly complicated murder method which I describe in detail, leads me to believe Eden is the blackened, and Levi helped her kill Arei.

I’m not going to talk about other theories, I’ll let the dedicated theorists perfect them with the new evidence in their own time. But, how does this theory change?

On the surface, uh, not much. We haven’t talked method much, after all.

(Side note, I know some people are bothered by how long that’s taking, and while I kinda get it, I’m not bothered by it. We’re in no rush; I prefer it if all the character conflict is addressed at some point, even if it delays talking about the actual method. Better than it going unaddressed, after all)

The only change is adding that they splashed Arei with water to hide her body temperature, but as discussed, that’s a minor change.

The big wrench thrown into this theory is the end, because… I’ll be honest, dear audience, I have no clue what Levi’s cooking here. Like, at all. Zero read on why he’s revealing his secret. I could try to speculate, but I can’t find any fully satisfactory answer even outside the Levi!Accomplice theory. Nothing makes sense to me, so I’ll just wait for the next episode before trying to read into it.

There is one unrelated thing I want to bring up, though, and it’s related to Levi’s possible motivation. I know this is one of the biggest sticking points in the theory (obviously), so I’d like to talk about it.

As a refresher: although alternate ideas have been offered, my current guess is that it has to do with his desire to be a good person, and the fact he considers Eden a good person. Cue the whole “A Good Person” hidden title behind “All That Glitters.”

Levi: Perhaps I messed up yesterday. But I want to move on. I want to keep trying to become ‘a good person,’ like you, Eden.

The idea goes like this. Levi thinks Eden is good, and so he wants to do good by her. Based on the secret quote in the code of his character page, we can tell he prefers to speak through actions. He’s a bold action man, and that can cause him to come off as heartless.

Levi: I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

My personal theory (again, other Levi motives are possible) assumes that Levi believes someone will win the killing game eventually (and this is an assumption, I won’t deny it), and if only one persona can escape, he’d rather it be Eden than anyone else. Again, “good person.” Levi will die, sure, but unless he becomes a blackened himself, he’s going to die regardless whenever someone gets away with murder.

Now, this isn’t anything drastically different than what I said in the theory post, so why am I bringing it up?

Well, the thing is… Doing something horrible, throwing away your own life and those of most of your peers, all for the sake of the one you’ve deemed to be “a good person”…

Now where have I heard that before?

David: But doing “good” things requires sacrifice. Sometimes that sacrifice is being seen as a good person.

Even if doing something makes you hated, if that action is for a greater good, then it’s an action you have to take.

Xander is a good person. He’s the only good person I’ve ever known. I swear, I’ll follow in his footsteps and—

Huh. Funny how that works.

My point is that not only is “doing good by the only good person here” now a pre-established line of reasoning these characters can have, Levi doing such a thing for Eden would be a very interesting parallel to what David tried to do for Xander.

This isn’t evidence, to be clear. Just because one guy does it, doesn’t mean a completely unrelated dude is gonna do it too. But I’m calling it now as a potentially interesting parallel to explore, either in canon if I’m right or, like, an AU if I’m wrong :v

That said, I will point out that Hu’s capital G Girlboss Moment is directly after this, the one where she chews David out for deciding what’s best for all of them without consultation. And a little bit afterwards, Levi starts acting weird, apologizing for being useless, revealing his secret, etc. These two things could be connected, if Levi is, like, having second thoughts after that.

I could see a world where Levi’s trying to bring the conversation towards the right answer without fully committing to it, only for something or someone to somehow convince him back to accomplice-hood middway through it. I find that immensely unlikely, to be clear, but again, I genuinely have no idea what Levi’s trying to do right now, so.

All in all, a pretty neutral episode for this theory. Next one could completely break it, though, so I’m excited. I might have to come up with new theories! >:D

God I missed DRDT. And the only drawback of coming back is re-opening LGI trauma :D /silly

Anyways, thanks for reading! See you on the flipside!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt theory #levi fontana #drdt spoilers #david chiem

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melancholicstation · 2 months ago

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Salvatore can wait, now it's time to eat soft ice cream — bobby f. kennedy

As Jack's wife many may propose your sex life to be exuberant and quite frequent: in reality it's nothing of the sort. After having your beautiful baby-girl Enya, you'd expressed fears and insecurities of being intimate about your new post-baby body with Jack to which he kindly dismissed them telling you that he loved you even more now. While hearing those words from a man you've loved half your life warmed your heart his sentiments fail to quell your fears. However, what sets you free from all your present worries and gives you release is in fact his own brother and your brother in-law: Robert.

taglist: @vile-harlot @dulcegal @rockstarfreddybby @starsprangledgirl @bluelancergirl @hisamericanmuse @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @rocker-chick-7 @reptaysgf @castiellover77 @salvatoresablondie @mckinleygirl98 @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @monturi @darcyspirits @unmarlou @remotewatch @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @fortheloveofjos @strip-weather-forecast @ultr4v1ol3nt @acrowdedstreetin1944

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, postpartum insecurities, possible inaccuracies to do with pregnancy and postpartum as i have never been pregnant before, infidelity, nipple play, desperate catholic man, unprotected sex, drunk sex, fingering, being eaten out, 18+

words: 2,950 words

It was a quiet morning for you. A statement that you could rarely ever leave your mouth truthfully due to your residence being that big egg-shell coloured house located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington—or how it's more commonly referred to as the White House. But you weren't in the White House, no, you for now were in the land of fado, wine, and poetry: Portugal.

Taking advantage of the barren land in your calendar managed by your assistant spacing between the 21st and the 28th you had decided to go visit your sorority sister, Alma, and her sprawling Lisboa estate 'Quinta da Abrigada'—or at least that's what she'd called it in her letters inviting you to the country house. You'd been initially apprehensive, a cross-country flight with a 6 month old baby seemed to be a recipe for complete and total disaster. Not to mention the press coverage, nit-picking your choices labelling you as an unfit mother, while hailing Jack as the dotting husband and father. Which he was, though that was when he was there which proved to be scarce.

Despite this worry of yours the person who truly convinced you was not Alma herself and her gushing about the residencies sparkling woods and breathing taking views of the Serra do Montejunto. In fact it was your very own tousled hair, chiseled jaw, president of the United States husband: Jack.

Apparently, in his astute opinion, he believed that some time away from the unrelenting US press and the ever thinning tightrope of public opinion would be good for you and the baby. Initially you'd worried that it would be to distressing for your little Enya to be away from her father that much for more than a couple days—you swore that you'd read a dreadful story in women's weekly of a baby forgetting the face of one of their own parent! You retold this story to Jack to which he only chuckled, and delicately cupped your face teasingly tapping the tip of your nose. In response to this he'd told you that once he'd finished up scheduled business in Palm Beach that he'd fly to Lisboa on the SAM 26000 Boeing. That was on the night before the 21st, and after listening to your husband you'd confirmed with Alma that you were in fact coming.

However it was now the 24th and Jack still hadn't shown up, and you were given no indication that he was ever going to.

Your melancholy about your marital situation was intermittently interrupted for a few days by Alma keeping you an incredibly busy working woman. You see, she was trying to convert the Portuguese country home into a fully functioning hotel and a wedding venue—she would never admit it to you or to herself but you had a sneaking suspicion it was a true vanity project in every sense of the word. You'd heard rumblings between European socialites that her Argentinian polo player husband was growing weary of her shopping sprees down at the Avenida da Liberdade and the last straw was a wine-filled rampage of the strip boutiques on Castilho Strett that ended in a bill of over sixty-two thousand euros.

Despite positioning your Portugal stay as a vacation Alma really put you to hard labour. Or at least your version of hard labour at 6 months postpartum which was lugging the ostentatious amount of floral and foliage arrangements for the happy couples who'd chosen the Portuguese country home to be a witness to their holy matrimony.

By 4 pm you were done for the day having laid out the varied bouquets of chocolate cosmos, primroses, hollyhocks, and wisteria. Some were incased by crystal glassed vase, like a trapped ballerina forced to spin inside of a music box. While others were allowed to roam free, tangled up the arched walls of the chapel, propped up by short and stumpy neoclassical stone pillars.

You'd initially underestimated how unhappy it would make you to see couples—each more happy than their former. It made you want to take a microscope to the state of your own marriage and shred it open. How unrecognisable you both were to the versions of yourselves that had walked down that Rhode Island aisle that day. Your marriage to Jack wasn't bad by any means: it was just different than it had been at the beginning. After having a child your relationship with Jack had morphed into more of a companionship rather than a romantic relationship. He'd become more distant: working later hours and coming to the west wing smelling of palo santo and black current bud.

A stark contrast to your personalised musk of waffle cone accord and vanilla...

But you were committed to make your marriage stick. For your sake, for your children's sake, and for the sake of Jake's whole presidential career. You were each other's best friend but sometimes, all of the time, you'd just wish he would touch and cherish you like a lover. You just wish he would be soft with your heart every once in a while.

You'd hoped a European getaway for the both of you would make some difference, but it seemed that Jack had made his choice. And so will you.

Because you had been such a help around the home Alma decided to watch Enya while you helped the florists prepare, the last time you saw your baby-girl was only a few short hours ago and yet your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest.

Dusting yourself off, brushing away the cut stems of flowers and pollen from various flowers that were sure to stain the surplus of linen matching sets you had brought along with you, you made a bee-line away from the chapel and towards the main house. Maybe Alma truly was on to something about making the sprawling estate into a hotel what with its ample land of approximately 1,350,794 Sq Ft.

Due to its overwhelming size Alma had allowed you to stay in the third wing of country home which had been newly renovated to accommodate for her aspirations of it one day becoming an auberge, but much, much large. With its many rooms you and Alma, and Jack if he bothered to show, were more than comfortable. Though you could afford it with the shear square footage of the wing, Alma's cot stayed with you directly to the side of your king sized bed, a welcomed addition of the renovations by you.

You couldn't believe that Alma was taking this kind of project on, to you just planning it all out seemed hugely anal. What with all the construction needed to implement tarred streets, sidewalks, public lighting, water pipes, sewage, electrical and network cables at the entrance of each lot. I mean it was a lot.

As you push open the door connecting the wing you immediately b-line for the washroom: eager to get the confused scents of opposing flowers off of you this instant. You thought back to your conversation with Alma, remembering that she would be watching her until 5pm: delightful. Despite the absence of your daughter resting on your chest being deeply felt by you, it was a blessing to be able to take your time in the shower. A privilege that you had taken for granted in your twenties.

Apparently your darling Alma, along with Alma's own older children, was going to get a private tour of the romantic woods, the various sycamore trees, and even the proprietary chapel in between the scheduled weddings that day. You'd gathered that by now, taking a look at your watch while you start to disrobe for the shower, Alma and Enya would have already stopped by the church by now.

During your shower you lathered yourself with your 'garden essentials' body wash the scent of California lavender leaving you with a camphorous scent, awakening your senses invigorating you for the evening. Next, you applied a scotch pine shampoo bar to your scalp-a gift from one of your Californian friends from elementary school who'd turned to the all natural life—whatever that meant. Once out of the shower you palmed a hair oil blend of argan oil, natural antioxidants and fatty acids, pear seed oil, and castor oil throughout your locks. Since getting pregnant and after giving birth you had seen a direct decline in the thickness of your hair and an increase in hair loss, a symptom of postpartum you absolutely detested. Activating the arrival of your baby soon you'd decided to get your hair out of your face, since her favourite pastime of late seemed to be yanking your strands of hair with remarkable strength.

Speaking of postpartum symptoms... since you had started breastfeeding your baby girl, your nipples had gone increasingly sore and sensitive especially at nights. As a preemptive measure you put some nipple cream given to you by a midwife and went along with your out of shower routine slathering on your personal favourite body oil that you'd dispersed into a travel size bottle.

Moving out the bathroom after dressing your put on immediate edge. Despite its size you hear noises coming from the room adjacent to the bathroom you'd just stepped out of—the bedroom you and Enya had been staying in.

Ice hot horror had bleed into every crevice, and every vein in your body. Jack always told you to be wary of going places without security—always fretting over your security and your penchant for leaving unannounced, and now you were paying for it.

In an almost comical defence, you grab the nearest thing in your line of sight: ironically an erotic sculpture ground by a plinth that looked like it weighed a far few. Hands shaking you, grasp the brass handle and quickly turned the nob: trying to look as menacing as possible to an intruder.

But what was behind the door was anything but. There was Bobby, in all his grecian tragedian beauty, holding Enya with his big pilose arms supporting her head like a true natural parent—which you'd hope he was after having enough children to start as sports team.

Both of you looked equally surprised as each other.

"Christ, hun what ever are you doing with that thing?" Bobby says chuckling, while rocking back on the soles of his feet and motioning to the stone sculpture.

"Oh Good Heavens, Bob you nearly gave me a damned heart attack" you say clutching a hand to your chest. To which Bobby shamefully and discreetly looks at your chest—in his defence you were wearing a more than revealing top because you really weren't planing on any visitors.

"Oh I'm sorry, c'mere sweetheart how are you? It's been ages!"

"Bob we spoke over the phone two days ago!"

"Oh, c'mon now you that phone calls don't suffice for either one of us."

Bashfully you smile, but realise Jack has not accompanied Bobby, wondering where he is you ask,

"God Bobby it's good to see you too, tell me where is Jack around? did you tell him that there's stables he's probably there he'd love th-"

Interrupting you Bobby explains, "Sweetheart, he couldn't make it I'm sorry."

A bit embarrassed, you try to play it cool. Noticing your discomfort Bobby gently dislodges Enya from his chest to yours, and it's cheesing to say but the weight of her on your chest salves the wound ever so slightly.

"Bob how did you get her? I thought Alma was watching her?"

"Oh she was but we met down at the chapel and I offered to take Enya—she looked a bit occupied with her own roady children. I didn't want Enya to be forgotten about." he says while stepping closer to you, trailing the back of his hand against her cheek and then moving his eyes to you.

Flustered you take your time analysing him back: dressed in a rolled up button up white shirt, and khaki coloured slacks. Blushing, Bobby says,

"She seemed pretty sleepy when she was handed to me. Why don't you have some time on your own and I'll watch her for you?"

"Oh please Bobby i've had plenty of 'me' time. Your ramblings would do me good, would take my mind of Jack. Matter of fact I'm starving aren't you?"

"Famished! I tell you a palm beach flight to Portugal is no joke."

"Well that sorts it! we'll take her bassinet and have some food out in the grass."

"Sounds perfect, maybe some champagne. I know you can't drink but you can live vicariously through me!"

Chuckling you nod, and he follows you out of the room.

Moving into the kitchen you start to prepare the snacks. Looking at your bleak options since you haven't gone to the market you decide on hors d'oeuvres chicly displayed on a walnut cutting board gifted to you by a baroness. Gathering the necessaries: crisp bread, casalingo salami, foie gras parfait, chicken liver paté, and finally a bottle of pierre mignon for your beloved Bobby.

Delicately balancing the board with one hand, and the bottle in the crevice of your arm, you glance back into the bedroom with Bobby and Enya. Despite your unintentional eavesdropping you hear Bobby rocking Enya to sleep,

"You are so lucky to have your mom, huh? She's the best mom anyone could ask for don't you think?"

The comments warm your heart but you're unable to dissect that feeling as Bobby steps out of the room moments later and like a gentleman: immediately steps to take the bottle of wine and board from your hands.

And one thing leads to another, the hours pass, and by 10 pm you both felt drunk—and probably look it to any outsiders passing by. Despite not drinking a single drop you feel utterly intoxicated by his very presence.

Luckily, Enya had been picked up by Alma to be watched for the night after she'd landed upon you two in the grass: with Bobby's head in your lap, giggles emitting from the both of you.

As the night drew on you'd gotten immeasurably close physically, simply tripping over yourselves trying to catch each other up on both of your lives when you weren't with each other. Bobby being Jack's brother meant that a great portion of your life was spent next to Bobby, and even going a few days apart felt like a whole year for the both of you. Possibly a little co-dependent considering you both had parents but you both didn't want to question it to hard—the papers did enough of that themselves, always questioning your friendship or rather the existence of something more.

Once you two had sufficiently caught each other up on your respective lives, the conversation turned more soft and touchy. Bobby was extremely tactile when tipsy. You and Bobby had kissed a couple of times over the years but you'd never gone the distance, always stopping yourselves.

However this time neither of you wanted to stop, in a haste Bobby motions to take off your top, that was until Bobby's soft caresses of your body reminded you of the insecurities plaguing you for the last 9 months.

Feeling you freeze up Bobby, worried that he'd done something wrong, asks if you're feeling okay,

To which you reply, "It's nothing on you Bob, it's just that ever since Enya I'm so different to how I was. Now i'm sore and I ache all the time, and I feel so damn unloveable."

"Oh Hun, you're nothing of the sort. I see, before me, a woman not only worthy of love but of worship. Let me worship you, please I promise it'll be-"

Captivated, you nod almost immediately but cringe as you release you hadn't had time to wipe off the nipple cream you'd lathered on hours before.

Once your breasts are revealed to him you can't bear to look from embarrassment expecting him to recoil, but he doesn't in fact—your worries are bulldozed by the fervid pleasure of his mouth of your bud, sucking delicately for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Taking his warm mouth of your bud for just a second Bobby says with batted breath,

"Take a deep breath, baby, C'mon"

Overcome, you arch your back like a Persian kitten. Your nails scrambling, and tearing into the soft grass: your moans turning into soft, delightful screams.

Overcome with gratitude and deference to Bobby you scream out, so loud that you're not entirely sure that Alma can't hear you,

"Baby, baby, baby, I'm-i'm your man"

Who knew you could cum from that? Certainly not you, that's for sure but alas you did.

You take several minutes to come out of it, to which he just cradles you brushing a few short strands of hair, dotting kisses along the concave of your breasts.

As if to give back you raise a hand to his chin, and engulf him in a sweet kiss, nothing reminiscent of dominate coming from either side: just tenderness.

"Oh I can taste champagne on your lips, Bobby!"

"Y'know I do have an idea on how to get rid of that taste" to which Bobby dramatically lays you on the ground and gets down to business on his hands and knees, fingering and teasing your mound: warm and inviting.

By the whole end of the ordeal you've had 5 orgasms and made enough noise to rival the neighbouring cats and dogs screeches and barks.

All the nipple butter has been removed from your breasts and is now squarely strewn around on Bobby's face and lips—they do say lanolin is a good moisturiser for the lips...

#does bobby even get to orgasm... well that's up to you.#bobby f kennedy x reader #bobby f kennedy x original female character #rfk x reader #rfk x you #bobby kennedy x reader #bobby kennedy x you #political rpf #bobby kennedy rpf #rpf political #rpf fanfiction #kennedy rpf #kennedy fanfiction #kennedy fanfic #melancholicstation #melancholictstationwrites #Spotify

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