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bluejutdae · 7 months ago

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“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it’s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

#bluejutdae #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #Thiana writes Chan

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guardianofnightmares · 4 months ago

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Sunrise

Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

----------

Alright, fellas, next entry to the @blitzbee-week event is finally here)). The prompt of the second day was "Sunrise" and I decided to go more figuratively with it rather then depicting a literal "appearance of the sky" at a particular part of a day. As you can guess by a provided description, Bee basically becomes a "leading star" for a brooding Blitzwing, who, as it seems, is not that thrilled by discovery of his partner.

Just as a previous entry to a mentioned event, this picture is dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". Here's a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story if anyone wants to give it a try. Again, can not thank you enough for all the support you've shown for it so far, I will try my best to come up with updates soon enough.

As it usually goes with such works of mine, I will provide the full snippet of one of chapters, which a depicted scene is taken from, under a cut line for anyone wishing to read more about the scene. Hope you'll enjoy it)

To the surprise of many comrades he’d worked with, the Triplechanger proved to be the most patient mech on a team when it came to long lasting missions. Usually he didn’t find it difficult to lay low and wait for orders to come, even if it meant to stay idle for several solar cycles. It was a useful trait of character which Decepticon rightfully prided himself of.

Yet, even a seemingly boundless patience had its limits.

“Can you see anything of use out there?” Blitzwing finally asked his unfortunate “partner in crime”.

A brightly colored mech slipped on the spot upon hearing Con’s voice but managed to regain his balance.

“Not yet, Blitzwing, give me a klik!” A minibot shouted over his shoulder, holding on the steel bar for dear life. “Climbing is not as easy as I’m surely making it look in your optics.”

If Bumblebee planed to cheer up a Warframe with such a comment, he failed miserably, for it only seemed to sour up an already bad mood of a tall mech.

To a Decepticon, it felt like forever since the minibot began his ascend up a steep scarp of a crumbled wall. One would think that, thanks to his light frame, he’d manage to reach the top level in no time. But even this uneven terrain, made of torn sheets of metal and broken cables, proved to be a challenge to an agile Autobot.

The damned energy chain, which linked limbs of both mechs to each other, clearly was the greatest obstacle for Bumblebee, barely giving him a chance to move as far away from a somber mech as possible. Not to mention that a Decepticon was forced to stand on one pede in order to accommodate his companion’s slow conquest of new heights.

Admittedly, a Triplechanger considered an option of tearing the bug’s pede he’s bound to off. But that type of cuffs always latched onto anything in their vicinity (while being activated). Meaning, the chances of getting tied to a nearby wall, as a result of said actions, reached more than 90%.

Tearing his own pede off was not part of a Warframe’s plans.

“If you haven’t noticed it yet, Bumblebee Prime, we don’t have plenty of time left to hide in these tunnels,” A “former” convict grumbled in response while surveying his surroundings for an up-tenth time. He didn’t notice how a Bot winced at the mention of his new title.

Minibot knew he deserved that snide remark. But it did not make him feel better about his recent promotion to an Elite Guard. Or about a decision to become one for that matter. The decision which led to a situation where an Autobot and a Decepticon got lost under an Iacon city.

They had to hide in maintenance tunnels from the times prior to a Great War. Tunnels built by Decepticons for Autobots’ use, and left by them to slowly rot in an utter disrepair after the said War was officially ended. Sealed off since the banishment of Warframes from Cybertron, eventually the structure turned into an urban myth not many of currently living mechs remember or even know about.

An old complex Blitzwing and Bumblbee were currently navigating in was once part of the major supportive structure. Meant to protect veins and tubes once full of energon, that section was made of sturdy materials which stoically passed the test of time.��

The Decepticon would’ve lied if he’d said he’s not pleasantly surprised by that discovery.

But it did not bright up his mood by much - they still needed to find a way to the surface level of a planet.

“Foolish of me to expect a scout with no field experience to do a Warframe’s job,” the mech muttered under his breath, words bitter on his glossa. “Perhaps I should have been the one to search for an exit after all”.

Blitzwing had no intent for the last sentence to be heard by his peer, but an aforementioned scout, apparently, had nicely tuned audials.

Figures.

“And to risk exposing your Decepticon signature to raging authorities? No, thanks!” Bumblebee chirped after successfully reaching for a rod sticking out of a long abandoned structure. “It was already enough of me putting everything at risk by making stupid decisions - I don’t want to see you following my lead.”

Somehow the fact that a minibot admitted his mistakes helped to somewhat cool Blitzwing down. He said nothing in return but did glance at him once prior returning to surveying desolated surroundings.

Bumbler’s changed since the promotion to the ranks of an Elite Guard. He seemed to act more mature, even if he’s still naive about most things happening around him. For strangers it’d be an unexpected change of character for such an optimistic and energetic Bot as Bumblebee. But Blitzwing was no random outsider, whether he liked to be on closer terms with a current companion of his or not.

Death of a teammate has effected the minibot on a much deeper level then he’d ever admit to anybody, even to himself. Yet, despite how horrible it might’ve sounded, the Decepticon thought that that was an important lesson every soldier had to live through. And as a mech, who’s witnessed deaths of many of his comrades throughout the Great War, he had to agree that Bumbler was holding up pretty well for someone so inexperienced in mentioned matters.

Even Blitzwing, who did not know Prowl as well as a yellow Bot did, felt the loss of a mech effecting him as well to a certain degree. No matter how secluded and cold the cyber-ninja seemed to be, he always had a special aura around him, the one that made people feel at ease in his presence. Though how he could so freely speak to a Con about importance of life and probability of peace among Cybertronians remained a mystery to him to that solar cycle.

What was that thing black and golden Autobot’s talking about during the last conversation of theirs?

“To have Faith not in Primus, not in The Allspark, but in each other”?

What exactly made him see it being possible back then and, especially, at a current stage of the reignited conflict between factions? Triplechanger had no answer to that question either. He didn’t view how the world should work the same way Prowl did. Could not fully comprehend the intricacies of a philosophy of an Autobot, but, at least, did not lack the courage to make it very clear during a mentioned discussion of theirs.

Blitzwing didn’t have Faith in anyone anymore, and he surely wouldn't in a foreseen future.

For who could remain being supportive of their unhelpful, unwanted partn-… Autobot, while being lost in Allspark forsaken place with no means of escape?

…

“… -es! I see the gap in a wall!.. Blitzwing, I actually see it!”

The joyful voice tore Triplechanger from a deep melancholy state he slipped into while looking down a dark tunnel to his left. He raised his ruby optics, their faint glow barely lighting sharp features of his blue faceplates.

“Right where you’ve predicted it to be,” The Autobot added after turning around in order to face his unfortunate companion, unintentionally giving him quite a peculiar view of his small form.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

...

Blitzwing huffed in mild annoyance at himself and his artistic side of a processor - it was not the right moment for poetic comparisons. Hope and Faith had no place in a situation he was stuck in, only cold calculations. He and Bumbler had to get out of that place, no matter the cost. And the sooner they’d get rid of an energy chain, the better.

#blitzbeeweek2024 #blitzbee #bumbleblitz #tfa blitzwing #tfa bumblebee #tfa prowl #blitzwing #bumblebee #prowl #transformers #transformers animated #tfa #TFA: Icarus #gn projects

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1117feverlessdreams · 3 months ago

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* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

PAIRING: OnlineSeonghwa! x CollegeFemReader!

🐰📍SUMMARY: We all get pent up in sexual stress time and time again, and you’re no different. The measures you resort to however may be unusual. You decide to take your issue to the internet and masturbate with a stranger online. A stranger you haven’t met yet.

🐰📍WARNINGS: masturbating obvi, p in v penetration, sadism, cursing, fingering, code names, safe word, reader gets called bunny and darling, and during the deed, slut.

🐰📍WORD COUNT: 8.2k

🐰📍A/N: This story is literally a years work in progress, and by that I mean it’s been sitting in the drafts a quarter of the way done. I don’t know where this was headed a year ago, but these things may happen for a reason…

If you’re being honest…

you have been overly horny, and out of your mind lately!

In the midst of a history essay that is due very soon, you ignorantly minimize the web tab to look for ’free internet accessed relief.’

It was the period of your ovulating phase, so your hormones were shot up so high that you’d do anything to deescalate the throbbing pain between your legs.

It’s only been an half hour of working, and your rolling desktop chair’s leather began to feel gummy underneath your sweltered thighs.

The whole concept of piling on homework before finals week is something you could never comprehend with professors. Not only did it provide you a heavy workload, but them as well, and you’re not their only student.

You wish your roommate was here to tough things out with you. But she had told you on a consistent basis for the past month about this business presenting competition she’s in. She had religiously met up with her group everyday to perfect each element in their project, and deservingly made it to finals.

As this would be her last night before the final presentation against other students from other states in your country, she decided it would be best for the team to spend the night together.

Even though it didn’t comfort you in your solidarity-your body is grateful for her decision.

‘Maybe a YouTube boyfriend audio would do the trick.’ a recurring thought voiced inside your head. A soothing, deep, and attractive voice to guide you while he instructs to touch yourself when he wanted, and in the way he wanted.

A multitude of many minutes pass with your hand dove deep into your underwear, and onto your mound. You recognize your frustration only began to build as none of the videos you played online truly turned you on.

In fact you found it better when you turned the video off, and went at it yourself in the eerie silence of your apartment. Nevertheless, the awkward silence just make you feel more…awkward.

‘Maybe a video of a guy masturbating on any random porn site could help?’ I just have to find the right size, someone who’s my type, a pretty enough looking dick, and most importantly…a guy who moans melodiously through my headset.

You were beginning to think you were being picky when you couldn’t find a single video through twenty three pages. Although, you did manage to find your perfect guy at one point through it all-

You were wet and nearing the very edge, until you heard his climax- the sounds of what you heard to echo a dying horse.

Your persistent inability to relieve yourself made you think going to bed high and dry was a reasonable option. You just hoped the throbbing sensation would be gone when morning came.

It was plenty enough that you were overwhelmed and exhausted by all the work that’s consuming you, and you didn’t want to exert more energy in your poor findings.

You backslide in your chair from your pc setup, analyzing the screen and eye boggling through all the oddly named titles in a random porn site. The longer you looked the more you grew disgusted at the bothering mass of female degradation, and vulgar images of the most kinkiest kinks.

It’s something you’re used to when you visit these sites, and you hate it…yet you keep coming back.

You push your mouse toward the red x in painful shame to finish the last page of your essay off. It was simply a conclusion of what you said in previous pages.

There is apathy in the way you take your time dragging the cursor to the right corner. Just as your nearing its edge, a box grows in a highlighted beam. Like a miraculous messenger that greets you before you give up on your last hope.

It was ad feature on the website that you hadn't exactly explored yet. The ad banner read: ‘Click here to meet sexy hot masturbating adults near you!’ 18+ flashes on the side of the words with neon LED lights, and in GIF media, a man and woman on webcam rubbing themselves off with gaping mouths and wide eyes.

It would be something you would’ve previously consider if it weren’t for the fact that the strangers were near you. The local area was your college campus, a second home, and recognizing familiar faces is something you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

You’ve clicked it before just out of pure curiosity, and the link sent you to the site as promised, but the downfall for you was the requirement to make an account.

The old you from an half hour ago would’ve click the left arrow in the upper left corner and keep searching in disparity. Yet the you now is in deep contemplation, shivering at the slick beneath you on your gaming chair.

You had been grinding back and forth, and even rolling your hips for a deeper arousal. The sensation made it easy to direct your self to the the sign up page and create a profile for user StrawberryBunny1024.

Luckily for you, you’d been given the option of how close the strangers could be. It was a fairly broad spectrum you personally selected from surrounding states and regions. You’d imagine it’d be anyone’s nightmare to match with a former classmate.

With one disadvantage displaced you were thrilled to match with someone who’d shared some fiery electric orgasms with you tonight.

That was until you realized…you actually are required to turn your camera on.

You look at the screen mocking your distraught state with a, “video on please!” In honesty, you aren’t the camera shy type. However what would be captured frightened you…your bare body in all its entirety. In addition to your flustered face.

It’s the internet after all, and digital footprint is a real thing. You wouldn’t want to sabotage your chances of reaching graduation in your senior year.

Besides that point, you turned your camera on because it wouldn’t let you forth without it. A green dotted oval scans your face and a check mark approves of your identity.

Once you are let in, boxes with summarized profiles flash in your face, and a randomized match is made with someone in your selected areas. You’re quick to put on a sexy pink kitsune mask you sported in with your friends on Halloween last year.

Several minutes pass by and you already been put through the wringer. It was either you got skipped, or the guys you matched with were so forceful, and explicitly demanded you to show your pussy right then and there.

There is, once again, a pause in the randomizing. The video buffers to retain quality, but then it fully loads. The audio pitches in right after you scramble to hide further beside your chair. You find that to be the best strategy to elevate suspense. That way you could analyze the person in secret to find out what if you like them, and then you’d reveal yourself.

To your utter disbelief, the most etheral-magical- androgynous, gorgeous, princely being you’ve seen in your many days of living gave your knees a reason to not ache anymore. The prized guy to your desire’s name was…marsskywalker8.

“Hello darling, why are you hiding from me?” A masculine and soothing voice inquires, “I can’t get off to a gaming chair.” He smiles as he finds you peeking on the ground. There was nothing better in this world than a good looking man with a nice set of teeth. “I would do that in my own privacy if that was the case.”

You peer in closer with both eyes, fascinated by the way he just sits there with his face zoomed in, dapper in a black tank top-pleasantly relaxed-seated back fully in his seat-smiling as he notices your hesitation.

“Sorry... this is my first time. I never clicked on one of those…”, your voice drops in volume when you think of the right term to call this online masturbating FaceTime. “Ad thingies.”

“Ah, I see.” He smirks at the innocent nickname you've given your- ‘cyber interaction’.

He falls slightly forward to laugh playfully in a moment of silence which tears you in two. The blissful sound only made you want to cower more and hide. When he rises up again he combs his curtain bangs through his fingers, and what remains is a smile that never fell.

Suddenly a mic is brought down from his right side of the screen. In which his slender fingers engulf so tenderly. “Well…because you are new to this-the first thing you’d do is to show that you are actually human by placing yourself in the camera frame.”

Incidentally, you wave your finger up and center in the cameras view out of annoyance. You yank it down and became frightsome until you realized you’ve proved that you are in fact real, and human. “I know that! I just- it’s weird staring at myself doing…that.”

“Who says you have to put your face in the camera darling? All you have to do is drag your video to the side so you can’t see.” A lower grade of his voice in octave with the mic accessory sprinkled tingles down your spine. “Just be sure to point it down to your pussy. That’s all I need to get off.”

“O-okay.” You place the pad of your thumb over the camera, and rise above the rolling chair slowly. “I’m getting in frame now.” You continue covering the camera while you point it down to your soiled underwear.

He leans into his mic set up. “I’m sorry.” he chuckles, smoothing his hand over his face so he doesn’t smile. The man holds his face in his hand, purely amused about the whole situation. “Where are my manners? My alias name is Mars. Do you have a name you like to be called-Mrs.StrawberryBunny?”

“Yes…I do.” You look between the miffy doll by your desktop and strawberry themed set up you’ve decorated. “Bunny will work just fine.”

“Sounds perfect Bunny. It’s suits you.”

As does mars for you, because you look so otherworldly.

As you intake a deep breath, the pad of your thumb peels off the camera lens. Mars irises darken, and his eyelids lower with lust. “Are you ready for me Bunny?”

“Yes. I am now.”

He wets his plump lips, pulling out his frame to be larger and revealing his skin tight black boxers. “Just watch what I do, and listen to what I say. Mars is gonna help you cum Bunny, is that okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay Mars. I’m ready.”

You began to think submission is something Mars is into as he smirks in delight. “She likes what she sees. Does she have a name?”

“My name, again? it’s-

“No, her. Your friend covered in pink silk.”

Your body heats up when you realize he’s referring to your vagina. “I-I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Awe…what a shame. I have a friend here named Saber that’s very excited to meet her. If she’s willing to introduce herself of course.”

“Yes of course, um, I just came up with a badge it’s…” you look upon the mask you held to your face previously. “Kitsune.”

“Like the sly majestic japanese fox?”, he says intrigued. You nod slowly, regretting your top-of-the-dome thinking. “Oh my… she’s gorgeous.” He leans back and nibbles on his finger between his pretty teeth. Even more so, he gives you a nice view of his semi hard cock.

“I think Saber here thinks so too. Perhaps they should get aquatinted with one another? What do you say Bunny? Would you like to meet him as well?”

“Yes…I would love to.” Your eagerness makes Mars-or rather Saber twitch in his boxers, hardening his erection.

Mars lightly gestures the in between of his thighs. “As usual, he’s a very stand up guy.” An accidental burst of giggles come out of you mouth, and causes your visible lower half to shake. “How charming…Bunny has a sense of humor?”

“Of course I do. I told you, I’m not a robot.” You look at the screen as you wait for a response, but he just continues his mischievous smirking.

“Ice breakers help past the awkward phases. As do play dates. Let’s play with one another Bunny.”

Your breathing grows heavy in anticipation, willing to put keen effort to get what you needed. You clear your throat, preparing it to communicate in a seductive, sex-ridden voice. “What would you like to play Mars?”

“I think it’s a game we all know very well. The one you and I play with our friends here when it’s just you and them. Are you familiar Bunny?”

“…” You nod your head until you realize he can’t see your upper half at all. A thumbs up is what you provide for affirmation.

“I thought so.”

“I’d like to add a twist with Simon says. But it will be Mars says of course, and Bunny says. Does that sound fun darling?”

“Indeed it does. Would you like to do the honors of going first?”

His smile stretches and he tilts his head, chuckling in amusement. “Well of course. I have yet to teach you how it’s done after all.” He grabs his microphone from the right side again. “Mars says, rub your hands up and down your inner thighs.”

In the direct following of his command, you trace your hands up and down, breathing heavily from the small stimulation as you gain close to your heat.

“Good girl. Now, it’s your turn, and you can’t stop what you’re doing until it is your turn again, and I give you different directions. Understood?”

“Yes mars.” Your voice nearly whimpers in the end. It’s so strange how being told to touch yourself feels different than touching yourself at will. “Bunny says… lean back…lift your shirt…and touch all over your torso.”

He of course is best at his own game. Following your command without a world of trouble. His face remains neutral.

“Nicely done Bunny, I see you understand the rules of the game.”

He leans over on his desk, his lips brushing over the head of the microphone. “Mars says…set the crotch of your panties to the side, and rub onto Kitsune’s outer lips.”

You’re relieved to not torture yourself anymore, but now you were revealing a more intimate part of yourself full on. You began to rub softly, and even so it still makes you quiver. You had to get him back.

“Bunny says…massage into Sabers sack, and only through your underwear.”

He does so and throws his head back softly as it lands on a cushion. “How cruel of you Bunny.” He tilts his head back at the camera, and wet strands of dark hair falls over his face. “Mars says rub onto your clit… and do it quickly.”

Your hips buck up in the air from the instant contact. “F-fuck.” You muttered. But you keep your sportsmanship in tact. Obeying the rules of the game. “B-bunny says…bunny says….”

“What does Bunny say darling?” His voice becomes deeper and torturous. Hauling you in further into pleasure.

“Bunny says to reach inside of your underwear…touch onto Saber’s head…a-and rub your thumb up and down the middle. Quickly!”

A grunt sounds out as soon as he began to put his ministrations to action. There’s nothing but a mix of moans, whimpers, and groans between the both of you.

“Ungggh…Bunny, darling I-“

You flutter your eyes open and whine when your legs began to quake, nearing the long awaited ending. “Yes, Mars?”

“Does your friend have any toys you like to share together?”

“You mean like…augh…my dildo?”

“Yes. That’s perfect bunny. Mars says go get your dildo, and wait for my next command.”

“Fuck, Mars please. I need to cum.”

“You will darling I promise, I’m close too. Just do I say, and I’ll get you there.”

“Let me just cover the camera first.” He nods in approval painfully continuing your cruel command. You press your thumb over the lens and lean over to toss your thrown oversized tee onto the camera.

You rummage through the shoe box under your bed, flinging out your clear toy dildo.

You sit back down in your chair unto the sweat that has gone cold, but it soon warmed up again with what was pouring from you now. Mars tucked his lips releasing them from time to time and pant short breaths of air.“I’m back Mars…are you alright?”

“Yes but, just… please! He beckons with a weakening voice. “Do your Simon says.”

“Oh right, Sorry! Bunny says you can take a rest.”

He throws his hand in the air, twitching from an approaching orgasm. “Mars says we can take a rest from this game as well. There’s something else I want to try with you darling.” He turns his chair to face front again, making unmoving eye contact.

“With this being your first time, I’m guessing you got so sexually frustrated that you resorted to this as a last choice…and you want to cum so badly right now right?”

“I’ve tried everything mars, and nothing I did made me as wet as I am now. Thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet. There’s plenty more to come.” He gives you a small smile before moving out of frame. A few seconds later he comes back with a pocket pussy in hand.

“The prices I would pay just to feel you right now.” He grabs a bottle of lube which was growing sticky in his pre-cum with every touch. “Hold that for just a minute darling.” Mars pours the small remainder in the bottle on his cockhead. He hitches his breath as it twitches from the cool contact.

You can only watch there stunned, sitting there, hand limp in carrying the clear dildo.

“We can see each other right? But there’s limitations on what we can feel.” Mars rubs his hand over himself thouroughly from the base, then the shaft, and to the tip. He even treated you a bit, adding the gloss to his lower abdomen. “So let’s just pretend hmm? Your soaking wet pussy, and my long hard dick.”

He begins to hover the pocket pussy over his cock, and you do the same with your dildo. You had a natural lube good enough that sticky webs formed between your fingers.

You use some of it to cover the dildo, providing yourself as much slip as possible. “You are so hard hwa, I don’t think you can bear it any longer, just fuck me.”

“Fuck, you’re such a slut Bunny. Talking to me like you’re in control.” He hovers the pocket pussy over himself closer, waiting for your cue.

“Push my cock all the way in, and put that pussy juice to good use for me darling, I know you can take it.”

You push it in with no time wasted, and your toes curl within every hilt. It slipped so deep you felt it nearly bypass your cervix. “You’re so deep, and you feel so good.” A long drop of your cream spills from your hole to the underside of the dildo.

Mars’s adam apple bobs hardly as he watches it cascades down on the sides, coming to a full shiver when it hits your floor. “Mars?” He tilts his head up and smiles when he sees you obediently trying to keep the dildo inside you as it began to lose friction against your slick.

“Yes darling I’m here, go on, fuck on your dildo like good little slut.” He begins to play pump his his toy halfway down his girth, twisting it in a 180 degree motion and back.

As soon as you began to follow, you fall apart easily. Whining and crying for your dear life. “More. Call me more names Mars, I love it. I love being your good little slut.”

“Who knew you had a thing for being degraded from how shyly you spoke when I tried to get you into a camera. Now look at you, crying over dick as you beg to be called a slur. What a dumb little toy you are.” he grunts.

You take the pleasure from that as an opportunity to twist the tip of the dildo into your hole, shuddering as it grazes over your sweet spot. “Please keep talking, I’m so close hwa!”

“Fuck your naughty. Let me shut you up. Go faster darling- all I want to hear is you cry for mercy.”

He begins to speed up his fist, tip to base. He tries to maintain contact with you to elevate your high, but it looks like he’s fighting sleep from how often his eyes roll in the back of his head from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Ah fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t- hwa, it’s too fast, I can’t keep up.”

Mars laughs loudly without hesitation-right in your face. “Oh shut up, you whore. You could keep up with your dirty talk. Don’t act like you didn’t do this to yourself dear. Now, I want you to go even faster.”

“Yes sir, m’sorry sir.” You proceed to go even faster, squirming and squinting in your chair as you resist the urge to pull out from the too good feeling of overstimulation.

Mars is on the other side of the camera breaking out heaves of sweat from his head to the curved v lines on his hips. He finally submits to closing his eyes and smiles widely like he’s passing into the next promised paradise of life.

“Wait, oh Mars-fuck!” The camera heightens from you slipping in the chair, then the tip of your toe kicks it further upward.

You had no clue however that your entire body was in frame. Your webcam wasn’t even in your view. With your eyes cloudy from tears and your back arched, you were more focused into making this experience worth your time.

“Holy fuck, you’re gorgeous. Why would you try to hide such a blessing from me?”

You thought in that moment he was praising the beauty of your pussy in which has become well acquainted with, and so you just plead your case. “M’sorry, I’m so sorry Mars.”

He whines with a small shriek, faltering in his ministrations of taking himself all the way. He shivers everytime he takes glances at your adoring features in which you still have no clue are unconcealed.

“Fuck, you’re getting wetter with every thrust darling. Let’s finish this off together and go all the way. My obedient little slut deserves it anyhow.”

He grins wickedly as he watches you plunge the dildo in you without any wasted time.

“Are you fucking close baby? Please tell me you are, because I can’t hold it for another fucking second!”

“Yes Mars I’m- I’m so, aughhh!” You release the cum covered dildo from your heat and fall backwards-limp in your chair. You’d allow yourself to rest as you were still shaking in aftershock.

Mars cums spurts like a water gun onto the meat of thighs. If you weren’t so high right now, you’d see the tear drop that could be mistaken as sweat, but really, that’s how much you’d affected him.

A unexpected knock on the door causes Mars to stumble in his chair, immediately turning off his video and throwing everything into a safe space. “Give me just a minute!”

“Mars!?” You breath out, dropping the dildo in hand to click out of the live chat. ‘Your call with marsskywalker8 was ended.’

…

‘Of course’, you thought. You’re not sure what you were expecting from a site where people use each other to get off. Who in their right mind would have casual conversation after cumming online with a stranger?

You hit x and shut your desktop down to clean yourself in shame. As you got up your ass stuck up the seat from your sticky orgasm, the best you ever had- which is why it’s a shame things ended so abruptly.

With the random select of strangers in your country, it probably take a billion masturbation sessions, to reach him again. Not that you would want to do it again with anyone else though.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

THAT VERY NEXT MORNING…

“Good Afternoon, sleepyhead! Wakey wakey!”

Your eyes flicker open rapidly when you hear your roommate's familiar voice. You click the power button on the side of your phone and it’s 2PM. A flash memory record of Mars and your homework creeps in your head. Your homework that you think you submitted with a conclusion.

“Hmm?” You say groggily, looking tiredly disgusted at the slob stain wetted on your sheets.

“Look at me, straight one.” Your roommate says while snapping.

“Why is it that you make fun of me in my sexuality as the gay one?” When you throw your cover off and sit up on the ledge, your eyes dart toward a golden trophy she places on your lap. “You fucking got 1st place?”

“This bitch and her incredible team got first place! Whoop whoop!” Your roommate prances around your dorm doing the gagnam style of all dances in victory.

You cover your mouth in surprise from her ridiculous bust-a-move, but also from the relieving news. “Oh my god congratulations Dixie. I told you, sometimes being stress gets you blessed.”

She smiles widely and jumps on your bed to cuddle you in a comforting hug.“You’ve been so supportive honestly, even while I was a deadbeat roommate.”

“Oh please, you had your reasons. You caught up on finals?”

“One more this week and I’m through, statistics.”

“Hmm remind me to retake that class in our next and final semester.”

“Fucking A-men….Oh that reminds me!” In excitement she pulls apart from you and gets on her knees to grasp your hands. “The team and I are going out for dinner later to celebrate, and I wanted to bring you with me…as a plus one.

You groan heavily, drained from the thought of going out. “Dixieeeeee. You know my social skills are at an all time low right now.”

“Nora will be there.” She looks at your slight smile but you don’t fully give in. “Food will be there?”

“You and Nora…” you say lowly. “will be the cuntiess business woman of all time. You both know how to plead your case with someone, and always win.”

“Fuck yes!” She gets on her feet quickly to give your forehead a kiss. “I love you girlie!”, she squeals.

“Please stop, that’s so out of character!”

Later in the day you both dress casual for the occasion. Dixie picks up her girlfriend Nora in the way who gives you a French greeting in the car, and right after, her and Dixie move into a French kiss.

You loved their love. You felt like a child riding in the backseat, admiring the way your parents love another, and wish for the same.

On the way to the restaurant you were informed of the two males that complete their business team. You were very eager to meet them. You were eager to meet anyone who tolerated Dixie.

“Okay this is the place. Hongjoong and Seongwha are waiting at the table inside.” Dixie says to you, smiling to ease your nervousness.

When you walk in you immediately feel the calm, yet bustling excitement of the restaurant. For the most part the people that are seated are a gathering of friends-celebrating or hanging out.

You were mindfully following Dixie and Nora as she directed you to the table, and that’s when you heard her say, “Wassup business team #1 champions!”

A small uproar of cheers and claps sound throughout the group. It hardly brought little to no disturbance to the other guests.

“I hope you guys don’t mind but I brought an extra out tonight. This is my roommate and the best goddamn friend I could ever ask for, Y/n.”

Your heart beat grows faster as you look at the men you’ll be accompanying this evening. There was Hongjoong and….FUCKING Mars?

Or as your friend like to call him, ‘Seonghwa’.

“Nice to meet you both.”

Hongjoong says the same and formally introduced himself. Seonghwa nods at him casually, and then smirks over to you.

“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He finally spoke. “I’m glad we have the chance to finally meet one another.” You nod and Blink thrice at Dixie, giving her your friendly signal. Code red.

“Hey-uh, we’re gonna use the ladies room real fast. It was a long ride. We’ll catch up with you guys in a few!”

Dixie grabs your arm and arm as Nora was on the other side. As a team they cornered you on a sink from both sides.

“Just tell me now” Dixie complained. “Do you wanna fuck him?”

“Dixie!” Nora lightly slaps her on the wrist as they were still united arm in arm. “Damn, why do you have to be so forward?”

“Well?” Dixie relentlessly imposes.

“It’s not like that! I was just looking at Seongwha because he was looking at me!”

Dixie’s brow raises up in amusement and he squints her berating eyes right into your face. “Who said anything about Seongwha?”

You look to her partner in arms, your other best friend. Who also happened to be the scapegoat to Dixie’s interrogations. “Noraaaaa?” you whined.

She looks to Dixie and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s a reasonable question that should be given a reasonable answer.”

You deflate your cheeks with a defeated breath, scoffing with a shattered heart of betrayal. “I saw the look in your eyes before you introduced me. I knew you were plotting something.”

“Well then let me just get straight to it then”, Dixie admits. “Why are you giving him the fuck me eyes?”

“Fuck you Dixie, stop it.”

“We could make it happen…just saying.”

“You guys. You point to them both with a lowered peace sign. Can help me. You point to yourself. Sway a- male species?”

Dixie scoffs and lightly pushes your shoulder upheld by your hand pressing into the sink. “I wasn’t gay all my goddamn life d-lover.”

“I’m pansexual, you know that.” Nora added.

“I do have a few cards up my sleeve still…never forget it.”

“Fine. I have the fuck me eyes,” you mutter with a small grunt. I would like your guys help.”

“What was that? I’m sorry…”

You flip up your middle finger. “Dickhead Dixie.” You run off right after, knowing she was more of a heavy weight champ than you were.

“Nuh uh! Come here, you little shit.” You feel a strong hug from bundle you from behind, and another pair of arms hugging you both. “We got you. Don’t worry.”

…

“Alright sorry fellas, the scissoring convention is over now”, Dixie privately announces, pulling out a chair for Nora.

“How the hell did you manage to maintain your professionalism during that presentation again?” Hongjoong asks, truly wondering in his genuine curiosity.

“Well it’s just like before I came out the closet. Fake it till you make it man.”

“Alright what are we having for dinner?”, Seongwha intercepted, clearly unamused. “The chicken parm sounds appetizing.”

“Yeah that and the garlic cheesy bread.”, you unknowingly added.

“Mmmm okay, we’re being bombarded by the Italians.” Dixie suddenly joked. She wouldn’t allow a moment of uncomfortable silence for you to bear, and that’s why she was your best friend.

“What will you be having Nora dear?” Dixie throws her arm casually around her girlfriend, giving the side of her temple a kiss as they go over the menu.

“I’m going with…the chicken tenders and fries basket.”

“Sounds great”, Dixie agreed. “Simplicity is best.”

“Looks like we’re being bombarded by sticky finger tablet kids now.”, you snickered in retort.

“Cocomelon! Seongwha chirped followed by the xylophone instrumental played after in the intro.

“You’ve got that down to a T, Mr.Park.” Dixie jived with a grin.

“You know Seonghwa likes to be a baby with legos and animal crossing in his free time.” Hongjoong added in.

Seongwha’s jaw shifted sides. You cover a smile under your hand, You didn’t say anything but you found it adorable. Every bad boy has a soft side.“Can a baby throw a baby sized man’s laptop overboard in the river?”

“Yeah, okay.” Hongjoong scoffs, seeming just a little visibly upset. “Like you can even throw that far.” Hongjoong folds in his arms at his sides, flailing his arms to intimate Seongwha’s throwing skills.

Seongwha’s stirring up his next comeback and ready to pounce, well, until Dixie had her words to share.

“Boys, boys, settle down. Save some testerone for the gays hmm?”

“Next thing you know they’ll be having a dick sword fight on the table.” Nora taunted, speaking loud enough for the two men to hear.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa groan and end their bantering right then and there. Nora and Dixie fist bump, you hear a “works every time” in whispers.

“Waiter, over here please!”, Hongjoong calls aloud.

…

You guys get some dessert after more gay jokes, poking fun at Seonghwa, and Dixie throwing random shots of spotlight on you so you can get familiar.

Little did you tell her how familiar you were already. Seonghwa had kept his mouth shut, he believed it was a matter you talk about some other time, or maybe never at all again.

As soon as their raspberry cheesecake cake arrives for dessert, Nora and Dixie head out for the night.

“It’s been a pleasure dude and dudettes, but me and this fine babe are heading to her place for the night.” A padded smack from Dixie causes Nora to jolt forward. She maintains her composure, unlike Dixie, she doesn’t like public attention.

“Let’s hang out like this more often, all together. Tonight was fun guys, see ya.” Nora chirped.

The two went to leave, playing on an act to their mischievous plan.

“Oh, uh Seongwha!” Dixie sputtered. “You mind taking Y/n back home- or your place is cool too. Just please make sure she safe, alright?”

“Yeah, of course. She’ll be safe with me whatever she decides. For the first time that night he initiates eye contact. “If that’s fine with you too…”

“Mhmm, yeah, that’s fine.” You nod throughout each word.

“Okay then, it’s settled! Hasta luego mi amigos, and buena noches!”

“That’ll be it for me too!” Hongjoong says while throwing on his jacket. “I think I’ll go home and play with some beats to wind down for the night. Nice to meet you again y/n.” He gives you a small small wave and pushes in his chair. “I hope to see you sometime soon.”

“Later, baby.” He sneaks in, balling his fist and wiping his eyes at Seongwha.

Seonghwa scoffs as he judges his friends childish behavior. “Enjoy making those beats tonight, it’ll be the last track you ever hear. Man baby.”

When you’re alone, you and Seongwha pick at your dessert in silence. His slice of strawberry shortcake, and your square of tiramisu.

“You wanna head out now too?”, he firstly speaks.

You look to him through your lashes, pausing with a piece of dessert on your fork. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“My place is cool?”

“Yeah, um, sounds cool.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

LATER ON THAT NIGHT…

Thankfully Seonghwa’s place was reachable in walking distance. You had plentiful ideas in mind, but not a single plan that seemed successful.

“You know…” Seongwha mutters. “Dixie talks about you a lot. If I hadn’t known Nora, I’d think you were her girlfriend.”

You cackled at the thought, and even if you found that noise a bit embarrassing, Seonghwa had been all ears. “In what universe? She pokes fun at me for being straight all the damn time. Me and Nora though…we’d have a better chance.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t Dixie be enthused to hear that shit.” You give him a slight elbow jab, leaning into his part of the sidewalk. “The both of you are like her diamond in a rock. I’d imagine she’d hate choosing between you two.”

“It’ll never happen, she doesn’t have to worry. She’s like that for Nora and I too, you know?” Seongwha actively listens with a hum. “Say um…”your voice trembles, “do you live on campus?”

“No I don’t actually. I attend the university here, but they don’t offer as good of business courses as they do on your guys campus. So I signed up for dual enrollment, and that’s why I was in the competition.”

“So you’re a business major too huh? I swear it’s like you guys are some sort of zodiac sign or something. “You all behave...” you pretend to think as you see Seongwha avert his powerful gaze towards you. “Strangely.” You say slowly.

“Wow…that kinda hurts to hear. He sulks, holding his hand where his heart is. You haven’t even met me until today, and now I’m strange?”

Your smile falls and you blink away because you began to feel bad. (In both ways) “Don’t take it too hard, I love a good sense of humor. It breaks the ice when talking to someone new.”

Holy fuck you sounded just like him from the other night. And you didn’t even realize it until it slipped your mouth.

“Dixie’s got it worse than you, so I’ll live,” he chucked. What are you majoring in anyhow?”

“Gen Arts.” You say sheepishly, holding back a chuckle of your own.

“Wait, wait, wait. You give me shit for being a business major but your in general arts? Do you know how moody you guys are!”

“Oh screw you! But no, seriously, that’s like a complete contrast from a business major. We actually have empathy for others.”

“Okay…you know what?”

“Mhm?”

“You’ve might’ve got me on that one! But I for one, am not like all the others.”

You push him into the street without the oncoming traffic, a tired groan spills from your mouth. You walk ahead of him, smiling as you swing your arms.

“Okay see, now you and Dixie are on the same level!”

…

Once you enter Seonghwa’s apartment, you fall to silence after all the heavy-felt chitter chatter.

Seongwha puts up his coat, takes off his shoes, and wanders off as he keeps talking about a new subject with upmost excitement.

You’re frozen and too entranced in the exact detail of his pc set up across the room. The microphone on the right side, along with many cute action figures of legos and animal crossing figures on the wall. Hongjoong wasn’t joking about that part after all.

“Hey y/n…you okay?!” Seonghwa yells from another part of the apartment in concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You slowly inch closer to his desktop, smoothing your hands on the top of the mic where his soft lips purred the most filthiest words.

“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”

“No uh, sorry I was checking out your collection. Wha’cha say again?”

You hear rummaging and stumble just when you thought Seonghwa was close by. “Did you want anything to drink? A water maybe?”

“Nah I’m stuffed. Thanks though.” You slowly slip your fingers off one by one. You were afraid even the slightest move could trigger your clumsiness , and have to face Seonghwa running in here to save his precious belongings.

“Could you come here real fast? I need your help with something!”

“Uh yeah? ‘m comin.”

You search in every room until you found him which didn’t take long. Of all places you’d thought he be the bedroom would be the last you would want .“Hey…what’s up?”

“Hey”, he says with a blatant tone. His face looked even more blatant which made you feel uneasy. “I know this might sound crazy but, I think we have some unfinished business."

“That does sound crazy. I’ll definitely need some elaboration.”

Could it be?

“Of course, I understand. Let me start by saying that I've never stopped thinking about you since we last spoke."

No, it couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry. what the hell are we talking about again? We just met a few hours ago. Like tonight.”

"Okay!” Seonghwa exclaims, cranking out his neck to prepare for what he was going to say, and carefully. “I guess we need a recap-we first met online, exchanged more than a few words. We introduced our crotches, played games, and oh-we came so hard, and then I got really busy, and never followed up.”

But it could be…

“How the fuck did you know it was me?” You cower in a panic. “I never even showed you my fucking face.” You fall to your knees and breathes deeply in your hands. You truly thought you were being careful.

Being the observant person he is, Seonghwa senses your sudden panic, reacting swiftly by getting down on one knee so that he is face-to-face with you. “Well, there's no need to panic. Darling…don't worry. I could just tell.”

You seperate your fingers and take a good look at Seonghwa’s detail features. He takes it as an opportunity to look in between to what he though was the most captivating eyes in the universe.

“Well how easy for you to say. I had video sex with my friends classmate, and then ate dinner with him knowing he’s the guy I had video sex with. W-what did you mean you could tell?”

His smile widens as he sees you peeking further at him. He leans in a little closer, maintaining eye contact. "Well, first off, I think it's quite an intriguing coincidence, and let me assure you that I won't tell anyone about our little secret, okay?" He waits until your small nod before continuing.

"As for how I knew it was you. I saw your face when the camera got kicked up by your legs. I know it’s a major dick move but, I couldn’t- I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to go all the way with you. You were just too fucking beautiful to be dispensed out of my memory forever.”

You slowly uncover your face and your eyesight immediately goes to his lips. “Fucking hell.” Shit, I knew it was too risky.” You look at his eyes again, which are now on your lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this fucking bullshit but I’m glad it was you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes light up and he makes the hesitant move of putting his palms on your redden cheeks. He leans in even closer, his gaze filled with warmth, and understanding. "You know what?"

“Yeah…?” He grins mischievously, before leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull back if you wanted to. "I'm glad it was me too. And you know what else? I think we should make up for lost time."

“You mean-you mean you wanna-

“Yeah, I wanna. I want to have sex with you. I want to feel you completely, and for real this time.”

“You promise to treat me like a good little slut?”, you whisper, gaining proximity to his lips like they were a love spell.

“Only if you behave like one.”

You move to smash your lips shirt his in a sloppy tongue kiss. Although touch was a firsthand experience, your feelings weren’t. He taps your thighs, urging you to wrap your arms around what you found to be a very slender waistline.

He was caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but he quickly adapts, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back with enthusiasm. As the two of you pull apart, he smiles against your lips, gently the apples of your cheeks. "Okay my good little slut”, he murmurs.

Seonghwa lifts you both up on his feet and tosses you on the bed. He grabs onto the hem of your boyfriend fitted jeans, unfastening them and taking them swift off your body.

“It’s been a while since I checked on kitsune hm?” He takes off your jeans and undergarments swiftly. “As gorgeous as she was before. Looks like I didn’t get catfished.”

You found it amusing, snickering under his chest. ‘So much for being real and human,’ you thought.“How’s Saber? Standing up like usual?” You raise your bare feet, smoothing it over the tightness in his jeans.

He tsk, taking your wrist in his hold and throwing your arm to the side. “Now we’re not off to a good start now are we? I really wanted to take it easy with you, but it seems like you like to do things the hard way.” He leans into your ear and teasingly takes a nibble. “What’s your safe word?”, he whispers.

“Strawberry,” you playfully whispered with a giggle.

Seongwha bites his lip as he nods in with a groan pulling away from your ear.

He inserts and curls his finger inside the cunt. At first it started with a few strokes, but then he full fledged fucked you on them as he pulls and pushes them in and out.

You whine loudly the pleasure, but you stay obedient, unwavering your wide open thighs from his head.

Seongwha notices your loyal submissions and gives you a mischievous grin. “There she is. The little slut I directed about a week ago.“What’s your safe word?”, he repeats.

You shake your head. You’re not ready to say it, you know it’s a trick. A test. You don’t want this to end.

“Good fucking girl.” He attaches his mouth onto your clit with his fingers now slowly dragging in the top of your walls. You feel the tip of his tongue flick your bean- causing your hips to jerk in immediate response.

As your moans grow louder his tongue swivels faster like a snake on the hunt. Accumulating all the slick ‘til the peak of your shaking orgasm.“That feel good my little tasty slut?”

“M-mhmm. It felt-fucking great.” You try to sit up but Seonghwa climbs to meet your face with his. “It would be dishonorable of me to not return the favor.”

He takes his cum covered fingers and shove them in your mouth. “Be quiet now, my sweet darling. Your debts have already been paid.” He pulls his fingers out slowly, slicking them down his torso until it reaches the cum outside his boxers.

“Shit. That’s so hot.”

“It is getting a bit warm in here hm? Maybe I should lighten up a little on the garments. Saber is in need of some air way.” Seongwha races in his pants to grab a condom in his wallet.

You watch the whole showcase of him slipping it on slowly so he wouldn’t grow tender from the simulating pain. When he’s finished, you reach to him like it was the first real piece of gold you’ve ever seen. His cockhead twitches.

“In sorry but…” he smacks away your eager hand, “kitsune gets first dibs. After all, they have yet to formally meet. So therefore Saber…Kitsune. Kitsune…he pushes your legs back aligning himself with your heat as he smiles at your genitals…Saber.”

Your toes spread from his insertion, and they close in from when he pulls back in and practice his penetrations. He was searching your face for discomfort, he wanted to take you there, and you were smiling widely giving him a positive sign that it was all okay.

He leans into you until your pelvis’s touch. He then begans thrusting at a lethal angle, killing your from the inside.

You began to feel every nerve in your thighs in legs tremble to uphold themselves in good strength. Seongwha was taking it all out of you, and it didn’t help when he separated your legs to get closer to your core.

Added ecstasy was released as he grabbed your jaw and claimed your lips for his taking. He was such a good fucking kisser. Even if you weren’t kissing back it would feel so passionate.

His hand begans to slip behind your neck and he lunges your body forward. Unknowingly doing damage to himself as you as your pussy clamps onto his dick, and your walls suction to be immovable and tightening.

“Fuck. I’m so fucked, darling. I don’t want to upset you but, I’m gonna cum, and it’s gonna be fast and hard.

“Do it hwa. Do it while you’re inside me, i’m beat there with you.”

He follows your direction like a game of Simon says. He adds the intense pleasure of massaging your overly stimulated clitoris, making it bloom in arousal.

Soon enough you came with more shakes and shivers to your nerves. So the extra movement and clamping didn’t leave Seongwha too far behind. He was whining and his arms were weak from being used and upheld for some time.

He twist his body so he fell next to you, discarding his condom into his trash as you both caught your breaths.

He rolls over and analyzes you with pure admiration, and your eyes had easily met with his because you were both thinking the same thing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I want to take you with me, and carry you everywhere in my pocket.”

“Dual enrollment is good of you wanna take a few extra classes you might need”, you tease with a wink.

“I have a degree in sexology if you need a few credits. We also offer private lessons free of cost. Seongwha swiped his thumb on your bottom lip. “I suggest Brat Taming 101.”

Your bottom lip stretches slightly downward as you openly smile. “Would that make me a teacher’s pet if I get any specialized treatment?”

“Well you are bunny after all. What choice would I have not to?”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

A/N: Pheeewww how ya’ll feelin…it’s hot.

Thank you for reading,

Much love

xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2024

#ateez au #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #atz #just girly thoughts #1117feverlessdreams #in heat #ateez fic #ateez imagines #100 notes #200 notes

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clementine-thedestroyer · 1 year ago

Text

Miguel O’Hara x reader - Sew cute

Warnings/tags: Miguel getting lowkey horny over his girlfriend knowing how to sew. Also, mentions of marriage.

Part two

I have this head cannon of rich bf Miguel finding his girlfriend’s hobbies adorable and taking every possible opportunity to fule her passion- I might make this a loosely related series, where it’d be the same concept but different hobbies.

I’m so sorry for the pun as the title.

It all started when a line of stitching on your pants began to loosen. The top stitching under the fly, specifically.

You complained offhandedly about it to Miguel, leaning against his side and pouting slightly as you whined about your favorite pair of pants starting to give out. Miguel chuckled softly at your dramatics, scrolling through his phone with one hand and rubbing your shoulder sympathetically with his other, eventually pressing a kiss to your forehead and promising to buy you a new pair next time you two went shopping.

Except, he never gets a chance. Because the next night, he comes home to the sight of you hunched over on the couch, your tongue bitten in concentration as a movie you’re not paying attention too plays on the TV, your head turned to something in your lap instead.

Miguel can’t help his curiosity- coming up behind you and peaking over your shoulder.

Looking down, he sees what you’re focused so intensely on, and it catches him off guard.

You held a thread and needle in one hand and what he assumed to be your pants in the other, carefully sewing a line of stitching into the fabric. Except, you weren’t working on your pants- your pants were sitting to the side of you- the stitching already repaired. Now, you had one of Miguel’s shirts- one he recognized as one he had planned on getting rid of because of a seam coming undone.

“¿Qué haces?” Miguel asks, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing loving circles into the tense muscles as watched you work.

You can’t help but shudder as Miguel’s fingers dig into your back, easing the pain from sitting hunched over for so long. You try to keep the shakiness out of your voice as you look up at him to answer his question.

“I’m fixing my pants. The ones that were coming apart- I told you about that yesterday, remember?”

“Love, that’s my shirt. Not your pants.”

“O-oh yeah.” You felt yourself flush in embarrassment, looking back down at the shirt you had stolen from Miguel. “Well- yeah- I finished the pants earlier. Then I found this shirt in with the rest of the clothes while I was putting away laundry. I-I hope you don’t mind that I’m fixing it-”

Miguel smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as he continued rubbing your shoulders. “Of course I don’t mind. But, I’m more than happy to buy us both new clothes. You don’t need to worry about pinching pennies.”

You turn to him, a grin spread across your still warm cheeks as you respond. “Miguel, there’s no reason to replace something so easy to repair! Plus, I’m enjoying myself!”

Miguel nodded, looking down to admire the stitching you had done on the shirt so far. “Hm… I didn’t know you could sew, mi amor.”

“It’s not exactly hard, just moving the needle through the fabric, you know? I haven’t done it in a good while, I forgot how much I liked doing this kinda stuff.”

Miguel was enamored by this new revelation. Before this, he had always seen sewing as more of an old person thing, but he couldn’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling of domesticity he got from watching you lay in his lap as you delicately maneuvered the needle and thread through the torn fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride at the sight, it was like you were his little house wife.

Or…house girlfriend? Because he hasn’t married you yet…. But that’s really just a technicality. You’re his house wife, Miguel has decided it.

The next morning, when you handed him the repaired shirt with a proud grin, Miguel couldn’t help but feel treasured and loved from the simple gesture. Before this, Miguel would never have considered wearing something that had ripped them been repaired. He had the money to replace things, so why wouldn’t he? But from that day on, that shirt became his favorite, and he wore it every chance he had.

After that, Miguel started coming home with little handicraft and embroidery kits for you. Whenever he’d get see a kit he knew you’d like- maybe it had your favorite animal or something- he’d toss it in the cart and save it for a rainy day, whether that be a metaphorical or literal one.

And it all stayed like that for a while: Miguel bringing you small hand sewing and embroidery kits, you lighting up and getting started on them right away- usually spending the rest of the night on the couch next to Miguel with a movie or show on in the background.

Until one of your friends asked that you sign up for a sewing workshop with them. It was a relatively basic class, held at one of the local chain fabric/craft stores, but you had agreed to go, mostly for your friends sake.

The workshop was fun. You learned a bit about sewing machine tension and using patterns, and the sewing project given was simple and doable within the time period.

You didn’t realize that Miguel had come early, or that he was standing in the doorway of the classroom, watching you sew with a smile. He would deny it if you asked him, but he had arrived early on purpose to watch the last few minutes of the class. He had assumed the class was hand sewing, like everything else he had seen you do up till that point, and he was surprised to see you hunched over a sewing machine instead of your usual needle and thread.

It was like the first time he saw you sewing all over again: he was fucking smitten, and was going to make you his wife. That was all he could think about, because god help him, you already looked and acted the part.

Miguel was mesmerized by how focused you were as you moved the fabric through the machine. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow in concentration- it was precious, and Miguel wanted nothing more than to melt at how domestic you seemed while doing it.

And when you finished and came up to him? With a wide grin as you proudly presented the stuffed animal you had made during the workshop, insisting that you made it for him? His heart melted, right then and there. He squeezed that stuffed animal so tight and looked down at you with so much love, you were half worried he’d either pounce on you or make the poor stuffed animal’s head pop off (which Miguel might have cried about, at this point).

After the workshop, Miguel didn’t take you home. You and him stayed at the fabric store, him loading your arms up with fabric, patterns, and whatever else he decided you needed. “You like this one? No? You don’t? Well I think it’s just a good basic- like a black shirt, so we should just get it anyways.”

Oh god. And then he found the baby clothes patterns. You could’ve sworn you spent hours at that craft store.

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bubbbii · 1 year ago

Text

Silence

title : Silence

pairing : Jungkook x Reader

genre : smut, jungkook smut, kpop smut

warning : spanking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, degrading, choking, fingering, spitting, daddy kink, very dirty content

summary : 5 days…and you’ve been ignoring your fiancée, Jungkook, since he’s been so busy it wouldn’t occur to you that Jungkook would notice the treatment you were giving him. But after coming back from a dinner full of friends, he decides to finally giving you his full attention..and more.

[REQUESTED]

!PURELY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal story or idea without permission please thank uu :))

Let’s go <3

_________________________________________________________

I sighed, running my hands through my hair at the long night we’ve had as my fiancée closed the door behind us. I put my purse on the glass table in the living room, kicking off my heels and made my way to the kitchen to get a water. It is true, that i’ve been ignoring Jungkook all week because he decided to put his work before me…

So why not put my needs as a whole before him :).

I mean it’s not like i haven’t been doing that for the last 4 years, it’s just i’m doing things that i will do when i’m single. And he hates that. I’m not going overboard, never, but you wanna put work before your love than fuck it. And I won’t hesitate to go, overboard.

I felt his presence in the room as i gulped half of the bottle to wash down the 3 glasses of wine I had throughout the night. I turned around, putting the bottle on the big marble counter and saw that he leaned against it as well, resting his arms. I felt his eyes on me, but I wasn’t gonna say or do anything..it’s not my job to yet. “So..they will be coming over for the weekend. They’re just gonna stop by and grab a couple of things” I hummed, nodding in agreement as i dunked the rest of the water down and threw it in the trash can.

“Y/N, talk” I looked at him with an eyebrow raised as he raised one also. “What?” “Oh don’t get like that” “Get like what?” “How you’re acting” “Oh shut up you weren’t saying that shit when you were locked up in that godamn office all week AND last week” I snapped, going toward the living room with him following me. “So this is what this about?!” “THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS ABOUT!” I yelled at him, crossing my arms. “You go low i go lower” “By ignoring me!?” “Bingo” He huffed at my smartness, going towards the cabinet to get coasters for our friends.

As he stood there, I put them on the table, then finally looked up to meet him in the eye. “So?” “So? What - what do you want me to do? You love your work I’ve noticed!” “Y/n don’t be like that-“ “OH WELL IM BEING LIKE THAT-“ “JEON Y/N!” I got token back at Jungkook’s raw voice that filled the room. We were inches away from each other as irritation showed on his face. “Don’t yell at me” He said, bringing his voice down. He never yells…like never.

And not gonna lie..it turns me on.

I gulped, clearing my throat as I looked at him. “..my bad” He sighed, cracking his neck side to side before slowly snaking his tatted hand around my neck. “What do you want hm? What do you want- you want dick? Are you craving dick is that what you want? I know exactly what you want i’ve known you long enough to know what your desires are - you want dick. Yes or no” I sighed shakily as he got a good grip around my throat.

“Y-Yes..Yes I want it-“ “You want what?” “I want dick! I want your cock…please” He got closer, closing the space between us. “My greedy girl, my greedy fucking bitch..she thinks she can just ignore me the whole week and expect me to give her whatever the fuck she wants but guess what i don’t roll like that and she knows it” He said softly, making me huff at him playing around. “Daddy…no-“ “awh no? You don’t like this do you, you don’t like it when I fucking tease you and treat you like a fucking bitch but guess what you’re my fucking bitch and i’m gonna treat you like it understand?”

I whined, nodding as his grip got tighter. “I’m gonna ruin you doll, i’m gonna fucking ruin you and everyone’s gonna know - not to ever fucking ignore me ever again you understand?” “Yes yes I understand” “Good..you know what to do” I stripped every single clothing off my body, looking at him but I stopped, my energy changing. And Jungkook immediately noticed.

“What’s wrong?” “I’m just..insecure” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking around him. “About..?” “I may have put on..a pound. Or two. I just took a break from my pilates class and, me and Hobi haven’t been dancing for a while I just..I felt like I needed to take a break” “Oh no baby no” Jungkook said, holding her close. “You are still - so beautiful I mean…I haven’t even noticed! You don’t look different at all! Don’t feel insecure about it, you needed a break and that’s fine - there’s no judgement in that. You still look like…y/n” I smiled, feeling his kisses on my forehead.

“And when you’re ready just - go back to classes! But..don’t feel obligated to stay one size and be that one size forever. You are still beautiful. Your clothes still fits the same I couldn’t even tell!” I laughed, seeing him laugh with me. “But until you go back…let me worship, y/n 2.0” I chuckled, feeling him kiss me as he picked me up and put me on the couch, him hovering over me. He got rough, kissing down my jaw and neck and collarbone, all the way down until he got to my pussy.

“Let’s just - be considerate? Yea? I mean look..you don’t have to-FUCK! Ok!” he sucked me out dry, wrapping my legs around his neck as he sucked me like a wild animal. “Oh my - Oh my god fuck! Just like that, just like that! Fuck!” He moaned on it, giving my clit some love and lapped his tongue around my folds. “She tastes so good, my bitch tastes so good” I moaned at the nicknames, feeling his tongue insert me. “Mmh fuck i’m not gonna last, oh my - i feel like i’m getting close” Jungkook backed away, licking his lips as my toes curled in denial.

“Why..just why” “Because I said any other questions?” i kept my mouth shut, not wanting to get him upset any faster. “Glad to know” he took off his clothes and his cock sprung out, and my eyes popped out of my eye sockets at the length. “No - hell no WHAT ARE YOU TAKING!?” “Oh hush it’s not that bad” he stroked it before lining him up and slowly entered.

“Jungkook - jungkook slow…slow, please” I moaned out, digging my acrylics into his muscles as he stuck the whole thing inside me. Now he was balls deep. “You’re gonna take this shit,” he thrusted forcefully making me yelp at the sudden action. “Like the bitch you know you are,” he thrusted again, making me moan and glare at the smirking fiancée on top of me. “And i’m gonna fuck you until I say it’s time to release you understand?” “Y-Yes” “Yes what?” “Yes daddy” “Good girl” he grabbed my ankles with a grip before fucking into me, his pace subtle but his thrusts were powerful, making my moans reach the whole house.

“Fuuuuckk yessss fuck me like that - OH! SHIT!” “Yea you like that shit? You dirty fucking bitch huh? Let them hear you, let the world hear how much of a bitch you are yea?” his pace quickened, the skin snap being immaculate as he tore up my pussy from the jump. This man..is a literal animal. I’m not kidding. “I’m getting close, you d—didn’t let me come from last time” “You’re right i didn’t, and i’ll do it again” the words went straight to my throbbing hood that was already throbbing from before and for me close to my high. “I’m close im close i’m close - I’m gonna come! Daddy-“ He stopped, making my eyes widened at the denied orgasm, my toes curling.

“Nooo no no no - Jungkook why!?” “If you heard what I said I never said you could cum, so, I didn’t let you” I groaned, throwing my head back making him smirk as he turned me over on my stomach. “Face down ass up let’s go” I did it with a quickness, my head on the arm of the couch as my back arched for him. “Ooh look at that oh my” he chuckled as he smacked the cheeks, not giving a damn if it hurt or not.

And it sure did hurt.

“Well then, round two” “oh shit- OH!” he started to fuck me again, grabbing my hips as he roughly rammed my pussy over and over and over again. “fuck oh my - daddy!” “suck it up” that went to my pussy immediately, making it throb once more. “H-Hit my spot daddy please, you kn-know where it’s at” “Oh trust me I know…but i’ll hit it when I want to” I whined at hard he was fucking me, gripping anything that was close to me. “That pussy is tight fuck, clenching on me like that like a fucking slut huh, you wanna come huh don’t you baby” “I do! I d-do daddy please don’t deny me again, don’t deny me again please”

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, making my back arch even more and he met my eyes upside down. “You wanna come me, you wanna come like a little bitch yea? My bitch, you wanna come like that?” “I do —fuck! — I do, I do please make me come please make me come” I moaned out, his eyes looking into my weak and desperate ones as he fucked me harder. “But i don’t know, you were..doing so good I’m just not ready for this moment to be over” “No no daddy please I can’t take it - I can’t take it please!” He chuckled, quickening his pace.

“Ok i’m close - I’m close-“ he stopped, making my roll. “You fucker!” “Thank you princess” I glared at him making him chuckle as he took his cock out. “You wanna cum? Earn it” He sat on the couch and I got on my knees, licking the tip before sucking the tip only. I rolled my tongue, did everything I could to get him worked up. “Ooh fuck there you go, there you fucking go - shit” I sucked him roughly, rolling my tongue around and about as I sucked all of the right spots. I deep throated him, which sent his moans on another level. “Fucking shit- like that, like that doll fuck i’m close” he bucked his hips keeping my head down.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes fuck fuck - i’m gonna come. I’m gonna come” I rolled my tongue around the head and that had him, painting my throat white as his moans got louder at the orgasm. “Fuckkk yes yes yes take it all sweetheart, fuck” i swallowed before taking his cock out, and smirked at him. “You’re still hard kook” “I’m aware of that” I chuckled, crawling on top of him and kissed him, feeling his cock linger onto my pussy, smushing the tip at my entrance. “You wanna cum? Wanna come for daddy” “Yes yes I do” “Sink down and show me how much a bitch you are” I sunk down on his cock, my eyes fluttering shut at the big thing fitting right in.

“Ooh slid on down there didn’t it, that cock fitted right there - my cock size only, nothing less” “yes daddy” “good girl” I bounced up and down, moaning and whimpering at his cock hitting all of the right places. “Yes daddy - i feel like i’m getting close already” he grabbed my throat, choking me and bucked his hips up, making my mouth hang open and my eyes shut at the dominance he was pulling off. “Yea you fucking slut you’re a whore. You’re a whore for cock and that’s all you want huh, that’s all you fucking want huh you little bitch. You wanna coat my cock white huh? You wanna fucking squirt like a bitch yea?”

“Daddy - daddy fuck - RIGHT THERE! FUCK OH MY-“ “Told you I gotchu” I moaned over and over and over again, my pussy throbbing like crazy as he hit my spot over and over again. “YES YES - DADDY! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna -“ “Say ‘I will never ignore daddy again’” “I will n-never ignore daddy again” “Ever” “E—Ever! Fuck! I won’t do it again” “Good girl. Go ahead and cum doll” I looked at him, his grip on my throat tightening as my moans turned out into choked out ones and clenched, painting his cock white. “Yeaaa squirt all over, squirt for me baby” I squirted all over the place, my eyes rolled at the back of my head at the powerful orgasm since he continued to keep fucking his hips up into me.

“Yea im gonna cum - fuck” He went faster and soon came inside me, hissing as he painted my walls white. “Fucking - fuck. shit!” I whimpered quietly, my eyes fluttering shut at everything that happened at once. He pulled it out and we both breathed heavily at the fuck we had. I laid my head on his shoulder, him holding me close with one arm as we laid in the mix of sex and sweat between each other.

“Don’t ever..ignore me again” I smiled, looking at him. “You know what..I might just do it again” he glared at me making me laugh. “You wouldn’t”

“Oh trust and believe”

#bts smut #jungkook #kpop smut #21+ only #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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wannab-urs · 11 months ago

Text

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

498 notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 11 months ago

Text

Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you.

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting.

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you.

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked.

He just smiled.

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level.

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about.

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder.

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest.

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar.

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well, you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him.

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?”

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?”

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg.

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure.

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual.

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered.

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper.

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked.

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed.

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

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oreolemur · 6 months ago

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Streamer's Worst Nightmare

Working as a streamer, you never showed your face. It was easy to make money having a cute virtual character impersonate you, but after losing a couple of fans, money became tight. “Guess what guys?”, you asked your audience through the stream. “I’m starting an Onlyfans!”. In the chat section you had a mixture of comments complimenting and some shaming you. “I know this may be a bad idea…but at least I’ll let you guys see my face”. Looking at the chat you began to get more supportive replies. “It’ll only be for a short time until I work something out for extra cash. I hope you all subscribe and see more of my personal interests”. Waving goodbye to your fans, you immediately shut off your webcam. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, you sighed.

Meanwhile, there was one fan of yours who wasn’t too happy about your decision. “An Onlyfans, huh?”, the man titled his head. “I’m not too happy to hear about that y/n”. He sat in front of his computer, lurking through your socials as he scarfed down a bunch of sweets. “I should pay a visit to her soon”. Crouching at his desk, L took drastic measures to find your location. “I will have you sooner or later, my sweet doll”.

Over the next few days, you began to feel more and more comfortable with your new line of work. “I’m making more than what I do streaming”, you beamed, staring at your financial statistics. “Maybe I should keep this up. Just for a little”. Posting pic after pic and video after video, you decided to open up your messages to give your subscribers a paid one on one chat with you. “Cum to my dm’s and have a little fun with me in private, my loves”, you say, making a vid of yourself in a pink robe. “I’ll be waiting”.

After making your final post for the day, you spent the entire night trying to reply back to the hundreds of customers who hit your dm’s. “I didn’t know I’d get this much”. Without opening the last few that came in, you got bored. “Nothing new?”, you scoffed. “It’s all the same suggestions”. Before closing your laptop, you received another message. “This one better be good”. Opening it, your eyes widened. “Hello”, it read. “At least this one has a normal greeting”, you smiled.

Messaging the person back, you enjoyed talking to them. “Wow, it’s been 30 minutes and they haven’t asked for anything special yet”. Texting them back, you asked them this. “Are you not interested in seeing anything special tonight?”. Waiting for their reply, you suddenly hear a noise in your living room. “That must be the cat again”, you sighed. Getting up from your bed, you headed that way. “Come here baby”, you signaled your pet. Picking up the furry animal, you walked back towards your room. Seeing the notification come through, you gently put down your cat. As you read the reply, your heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”. Reading the message again, you wanted to make sure that your eyes were working correctly. “Something special? Like your cute fuzzy slippers in the front doorway”, the message read. “This can’t be happening”, you begin to panic. Texting the person back, “What fuzzy slippers? I don’t have any”. Biting his nails, L stood in front of your bedroom door, “These ones”, he said.

Feeling a chill go down your spine, your heart beats fast as you froze. “You do have quite an interesting taste in style, doll”. Seeing the man from the corner of your eye, you turned around slowly. “H-How did you get in?”, you asked. He approached you slowly, bending down to your level as you sat on the bed. “Don’t worry about that”, he said. L’s big eyes stared at you, taking note of all of your beautiful facial features. “You know…”, he paused. “You’re more pretty in person…and short too”. He then tried to reach for your face, but you smacked his hand away. “D-don’t touch me”, you said, scooting back. L grabbed your leg, pulling you back towards him. “I’m stronger than I look. I would hate it if you made me get physical with you, my love”, he said.

“What do you want?”, you asked. “You”, L replied. "M-me? Why me?", you questioned. "If you're some creepy fan that has a crush on me...I won't date you". L tilts his head. "Why you? You're interesting. You interest me in ways no other human has. I want to peel you open. Analyze every inch of your brain until I know everything about you”, he chuckles. Hearing him say that creeped you out even more. L leans forward with each word. As he does so, his long black hair falls around his face, shrouding his eyes from view. "I want to get inside you”. L leans forward even more, until his face is mere inches from yours. His hair, now a tangled mess, conceals his face, but you can see the glint of curiosity and hunger in his eyes. "I want... to devour you." L whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

He tried to grab you, but you dodged it. You fell on the floor, getting up quickly to run away. The man smirked. He liked to watch people try and escape him. He always caught his prey in the end. L follows you, moving surprisingly quickly for somebody as lanky as him. "Where are you going, dear? The game was just getting interesting”. You ran into the living room, tripping over your cat's litter box. "Shit!", you yelled. You got up, heading towards the front door. L chuckled again. He really liked how you were trying to escape. It was so amusing and cute to watch you try and get away from him. L continued his pursuit, closing the ever-shrinking distance between you. "Don't you know that running away only makes me want you more, my dear? The more you resist, the more I crave to devour you”.

You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. L was suddenly directly behind you, his lips next to your ear. "It doesn't matter. There is no escaping me at this point, darling. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. You will be mine." L's words send shivers down your spine. He wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling towards you to the bedroom. "Let me go!", you shouted. "Oh, you are so adorable. Trying to act so tough even though you're shaking like a leaf in my grasp. I can feel how tense you are. You know you can't get away from me, but still, you persist. It's so cute!" L continues to drag you to the bedroom, a smug smirk on his face.

Once inside, he throws you onto the bed as he proceeds to take off his shirt. L tosses his shirt to the side, revealing his pale, lean chest. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Are you feeling vulnerable, my dear?”. You begin to cry, seeing him get closer and closer to you. "Please go away!", you begged. "Oh, but my darling, we're just getting started." L climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. As he does so, his long black hair falls forward, framing his face again. "You can't run from me. You can't hide from me. I will always find you." He leans down and whispers in your ear. "You're my obsession now”. He rubbed his hands through your hair, pulling on it as he brought your face close to his. "Shhh... let me hear those pretty cries," L says, placing his finger on your lips. "I want to savor every sound that comes out of you. You're so enticing when you're scared. It's like I'm feasting on a delicious meal”.

He kissed your lips passionately, pushing his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explored the inside of your mouth, slightly moaning. A trail of spit connected both of your lips and he pulled away. “Now…”, he said. “I want to see more of you”. His hand opened the slit of your robe, exposing your breasts. “Perfect”, L said. He pinned your arms above your head as he moved his way down to your tits. He stuck out his tongue, licking your sensitive nipples. “S-stop”, you said, letting out a small whimper. His hand traveled down to your waist, rubbing your bare cunt. “You have such soft skin”, he said, making a pop suction noise as his mouth latched on and off your tit. Your legs shook, feeling him massage your clit. “No”, you said, closing them, trapping his hand in between your thighs. “I don’t like uncooperative people, my dear”, he said, forcing your legs open.

L’s cock hardened inside his pants, making him blush. “My god”, he said, moving his hand away from your pussy, he had your arms pinned with one hand as the other moved to unbutton his pants. “I didn’t think I would get this excited”, he said. You laid there crying, wishing this situation was over with. You saw his dick poke out of his boxers. “Stay still”, he said, unpinning you. He pulled them down just enough so he can fuck you. With your legs still spread, L positioned himself comfortably between them. He placed his cock on your cunt, spitting on it. He rubbed himself on you, attempting to lube your dry pussy. “If you scream I will hurt you”, he said, shoving cock inside you. The size caught you off guard, making you cry even louder. “Take it out!”, you yelled. He covered your mouth, leaning into your ear. “I can tell it’s your first time, my love”, he slightly smirked. “I felt your hymen break”. His thrusts were slow as he placed kisses onto your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, leaving bruises.

Your body started to like his touch as your cunt became used to his cock. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like it, but you liked how fucked up the situation was. “Your body is starting to relax. You don’t feel tense anymore”, L grunted. He let go of your mouth, kissing your soft lips. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. “If you keep up this good behavior…I might just let you go”. His thrusts quickened as he felt your walls tighten around him. You moaned as his pace went faster, feeling your orgasm arriving. L rested his head beside yours, moaning into your ear. “After I’m done, I’ll make sure no one else sees your body but me”.

#tw noncon #dark writing #death note #l lawliet #l death note #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #death note smut #yandere x reader #yandere l lawliet

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luveline · 2 years ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

three | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Julianna is a real princess. As a granddaughter of the Queen, step-daughter of a prince, her title is official. She’s been a princess nearly all her life, and it’s a detail you can’t miss.

James’ hand is hot but amicable against your shoulder blade. He hasn’t stepped away from you since Julianna arrived, though what threat she poses has yet to be seen. She doesn’t seem particularly volatile. You can’t imagine her in all her dewy skin and fine clothing lifting a finger, let alone her fist.

“Mama says you’re an artist,” she drawls.

“Not really.” How her mother knows anything about you is a mystery. “It’s a hobby, is all.”

“And you didn’t finish university?”

“No.” You don’t owe her anything. You know you don’t. But it’s not just her you want to defend yourself to, not when Remus is sitting by the window of the parlour and James is close enough to hear your heartbeat. “I tried to, obviously, but I couldn’t, uh, afford to not work.”

“Ah.”

You don’t expect her to understand it. You know most people don't. Studying and working, the majority can handle both. You’d been ashamed of yourself for failing, but you’d come to the realisation that it was sink or swim. You could sink —resent yourself for needing more time, more space, more accommodation— or you could swim. Accept your ‘shortcomings’. Make the most of what you have.

Find yourself in a foreign country surrounded by the highly educated and the ridiculously wealthy. People who might never comprehend why you’ve struggled, or how.

In that moment, you decide to treat this heart-wrenching trip as nothing more than a holiday. James is nice to you. The food is free and apparently plentiful. The grounds…

Fuck, the grounds. The scenery. The royals aren’t currently living in their most famous residence, Loswell Castle, but are instead mourning the Prince at the more private and more subtle Bellaverden House. Subtle, yet gorgeous. The grass is green and stretches as far as the eye can see in all directions, broken up only by the silhouette of the alps to the east and the shimmering Lake Orlo to the west. The palace itself is nothing like you’d expected, and so far from the capital city of Genovia it is no surprise to find that the royals let their personal tastes bleed into every corner. It’s tasteful, silent wealth, no crystal chandeliers hanging from the eaves but instead a Rembrandt in the hallway. No solid gold cutlery, but instead Noritake porcelain tea cups and their matching exorbitant saucers.

“Loswell is the gaudier of the two houses,” James had said, evidently pleased by your wide-eyed surprise.

A nice boy who’s being paid to spend time with you and his funny friends. All you have to do is survive the paparazzi (check!) and your suspicious possible relatives (less so).

Any hour now, the paternity test will come up negative and they’ll be shepherding you home in search of the actual princess, wherever she may be.

If she exists at all.

“You haven’t eaten anything today,” James says softly, for your ears only. “Should we go down to the kitchens?”

It’s hard to describe the true and daunting scale of Bellaverden House, but James’ use of ‘kitchens’ rather than ‘kitchen’ sums it up nicely.

Julianna rolls her shoulders, reaching for a black telephone on the side table. “No need. We’ll have it brought up. What do you like? They have yards of fresh pasta prepared by now. Doesn’t matter, I’ll ask for some of everything.”

“Oh, no,” you say, stepping out of James' reach. “I don’t want to be an imposition while I’m here.”

“That ship has sailed,” she says neatly.

Ouch. You look back to James without intending to, an automatic movement. He’s become your safety net too quickly. His job is to protect you from harm, not your catty maybe-cousin’s mild disdain.

“Sit,” Julianna says. “James, you can take up station in the hallway. Go on.”

Her voice possesses all the snobbish airiness you’d expect it to. She’s regal, elegant, and rude. James’ hand stretches toward yours, your fingers not quite touching. You think it might be his silent way of saying he won’t be far.

He gives you a reassuring half-smile. “If you need me,” he says.

“Tutor,” Julianna adds once James is at the door, “you can leave us.”

“Remus, please.” You smile at Julianna appealingly, piping up before she can steal your last lifeline. “I need him to tell me what silverware to use. If I have any hope of catching up, I’ll have to start learning about proper etiquette straight away.”

You look to your tutor to make sure he’s on board. Remus gestures for you to sit and crosses the hardwood floors between you, his footsteps soundless. Julianna sniffs, your suggestion agreeable but tiresome for her, and pulls the telephone receiver to her ear.

Remus settles into the chair next to yours at the table.

“Don’t worry. We won’t leave you for wolves,” he says.

You’re grateful. You nod to the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He turns the book around. A Comprehensive History of Contemporary Genovia.

“I’ve never had to educate someone who didn’t already know a very specific, very intricate history of our country,” he says in his melding voice, the barest hints of his accent peaking through. He says our country like you already belong as he does, not native but citizen anyhow. “I provide supplementary education for the well-educated, I… I’m like a second chance for rich slackers. You’re neither, and so I’m not sure how I can make this easy on you.”

You admire his thinking. You’ve been lucky to find yourself in the care of people who put your comfort first. Remus, James, Sirius, even the ambassadors of the country, and the matron you’d been introduced to upon your arrival here, they’ve all been so conscientious.

But it won’t matter.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says.

“You do?”

“You’ve made it clear how much faith you have in the current situation. I believe…” that you’re who we suspect you are, you think he might say, but he parts his legs to bump his knee into yours. “I believe we’re going to be good friends.”

That is… “Thank you,” you say softly.

The telephone jingles as Julianna slams it down. “So, what’s with the bruise?” she asks. “And the bad makeup. Mean boyfriend back home?”

Her cavalier attitude chafes. “I was a little too close to the door when someone opened it,” you say.

“Ah.”

Again with the Ah. Extra syllables must be at cost.

Positivity, you remind yourself. This is a vacation. This inane and insane need to constantly prove yourself to the people around you is going to make you crazy, especially when all of this is temporary. Who cares what princess Julianna thinks of you now when, in a day or two, she’ll remember you as nothing more than the girl who they brought by mistake? And wouldn’t it be nice to just… not care? Who cares what Julianna thinks?

You stand and walk to the door where James is standing, because calling for him would make you feel like an entitled dick. He turns his head to you obligingly.

“Would you come back inside? The painting is giving me the jeebies.”

“That’s a portrait of your great great grandmother.”

“She’s scary.”

He claps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “If the test comes out negative, I’ll happily commit royal espionage for you and fix the results.”

“That is not a joke you should make,” Remus calls mildly.

“Probably not. I’ve made it now. Sit down, Princess, the food’s arriving.”

The food they bring up to you is Genovian specialty cuisine, recipes borrowed from the Italians hundreds of years ago, and how fortunate you are for that. You have no clue where to start, surrounded by rich smells of broth and stewed vegetables, the spritely aroma of white wine and tomatoes so fresh their roasted skins split under the gentle bottom of your spoon.

James refuses to eat with you, as he’s on the clock, but Remus sits down at the table as promised to guide you through the fascinatingly intricate etiquette it takes to be a new royal.

“That’s Cioppino,” Remus says, pointing to a dark red stew bragging large pieces of crab, smaller chunks of a white meat you’re unsure of, and the distinct dark brackets of mussel shells. “It’s actually an Italian-American dish. It’s served with sourdough or French bread, but in our case, where you can’t necessarily use your hands, we’ll go without.”

“There’s nobody here I need to impress, right?” you ask quietly.

You swear you can hear Julianna twitching.

Remus doesn’t respond to your comment, though his voice is riddled with amusement when he continues. “It’s more common for the crab to be served in its shell, but I don’t suppose they want the royals using crab forks and crackers." He points to a second bowl. “This, from the looks of it, is a variation of stufato di capra e fagioli, Italian for ‘stew of goat meat and beans’. Self explanatory. It’s very popular here in the winter, it’s,” —his voice drops to a lower register— “Sirius’ favourite. Shoulder meat, onions, carrots, celery, white wine and white beans. I don’t suppose I have to tell you what that is.” He nods to a heaping bowl of gnocchi coated in a green, buttery sauce, and its familiar wingman — fettuccine alfredo.

“Now there’s one I know,” you say with a smile.

“I think they’ve gone easy on you,” Remus says. “Given you something they knew would be familiar. The head cooks, Marlene and Marsha, hardly ever serve fettuccine without ragù di pollo. Chicken ragù. It’s a sacrament in Marlene’s eyes to separate the two.”

He moves so easily from English to Italian. You wonder if he speaks Genovian. Is there a Genovian language? You’re too embarrassed to ask, instead piling a mound of unadventurous fettuccine into your bowl.

Julianna picks up the telephone again and you let yourself relax as her conversation begins. She pokes at her food and talks in Italian down the line, staring straight at you as she says the word, ‘principessa’. You don’t have to be a linguistics expert to know she’s talking about you. Eventually, her attention fades. Remus loosens at your side.

“This spoon,” he corrects, before opening his book and sagging into his seat.

You're famished, yet all the rich food makes you nauseous. You toy with your fettuccine and a little of the cioppino. Weirdly, you miss the ordinary smells of your kitchen.

A figure moves behind you, James’ shadow shifting to cover your hands. “Unladylike as it might be,” he says, “you’ll regret it if you don’t try the bread, Princess. Freshly baked, soaked in pesto, it’s what us peasant folk fight over at the end of a shift.”

You hold your hand to a beautiful sliced baguette, “This one?”

“That’s the one.”

You pull the bread apart and enter a stodgy, olive oily sort of heaven. The only thing better than how it tastes is James' happy sound when you set aside a huge slice in a napkin and usher it behind your back, as inconspicuous as you can possibly be. He has no choice but to take it. A telltale crunch comes quickly and poorly smothered.

Julianna excuses herself, and a maid comes to take her plates and dirtied cutlery on a silver cart.

You lean toward Remus with a hand over your mouth. “What do you call them? The ladies in uniform?”

“Princess, you can call them whatever you want to,” James butts in, returning to your side now Julianna is absent. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and sits in one of the chairs facing the door.

“But what’s nicest?”

“You’ll learn their names in time,” Remus says easily. “You’ll be fine. Officially, they’re ‘attendants’. Maids, cleaners. Oh, you’ll have a lady in waiting–”

“A what?”

“A personal assistant,” James says.

Your face heats up like an instant flush, all hot pinpricks and embarrassment, “No,” you beg, standing up, “please, that would be entirely unnecessary, it’s not like I’m some sort of–”

“Princess!” A familiar voice shouts. Sirius has weaselled inside the door and closed it tight, his back pressed against it for a moment like he’s keeping someone out. He wears an exuberant smile and a brilliant dark ensemble with fine pinstripes that mess with your eyes as he approaches. He’s practically running. “I’ve spoken to Delilah who’s spoken to Beau who’s spoken to Lily who’s been in contact with the legal team in charge of your care here in Genovia, and they’ve heard from the medical team who have been fighting tooth and nail to be put in talks with you,” —he looks at you emphatically now, and there’s something about his expression, part wide-eyed awe, part sympathy, that freezes you to the spot— “because it’s technically your care, and–”

“Sirius, get to the point, please,” James says. He’s looking at you in a different way. Like he’s waiting for you to fall over.

“Your father,” Sirius says, promptly deciding to start again. “The paternity test is positive. Your DNA is a conclusive match for the Prince, may he rest in peace. You’re a princess. You’re the Princess, by blood. You are a Renaldi.”

There’s a stretching silence. You wrap your hand around the back of your chair and stare at the velvet upholstery of the seat.

“Terrible last name,” he adds sympathetically.

You don’t want to be the girl who faints. That would be ridiculous, to fall over and crack your head. So, though you hate to ask for anything, you mumble, “James?”

He wraps a shapely arm behind your shoulders and under your armpit before you lose the feeling in your legs.

“I think I need to sit down again,” you say.

“Reckon you do," he agrees, as he pulls the chair around with his foot and arranges you in it efficiently, the tip of his thumb pushed into the pulse point on your neck. “We’ll get you something cold, Princess. You can breathe.” He gives you a little shake, hand spreading wider as it drags down your collar. The pressure is like the safety release of a suction cup. You take in a huge breath. “Breathe, lovely.”

“I’m fine," you say meekly.

“It’s alright,” he says, with his impossible softness. He’s unafraid to be kind even when there are people watching.

“I’m fine. I–” You can’t finish your sentence. You’d wanted to say you’ll be okay. That this is just some melodramatic episode, but it isn’t. This is a human reaction to unbelievable news. Because you’re a– you’re a princess.

You cover your face with both hands and curl in toward your thighs. Silence pervades, your ears abuzz with white noise. You aren’t sure how long you sit there paralysed, but soon James’ gentle murmuring and shushing cuts through the ringing. “It’s alright,” he’s saying, his hand at your elbow, “I swear, it’s alright. You take as long as you need.”

“Mickey’s at the door,” Sirius says.

“Good. Tell him to radio in a level two security detail and stay there for now. Who else knows, Sirius?”

“By now? Everybody in the castle. Including government officials.”

“And you’re sure?” Sure said severely.

“Of course I am.”

You’re trying very hard to keep your pasta down. This can’t be happening. It can’t be right. Their test is wrong. They swabbed the inside of your mouth wrong, or got it mixed up with some other person test, or the doctors are lying. Not once in your whole life has there ever been any indication that you are more than the nothing you’ve always been. All your worst insecurities rip to the surface. Not me. Not me.

“Level two isn’t as bad as it sounds,” James says, still so gentle. He’s been talking to you again. “All it means is that I’m not at full attention, and I need someone else to watch the room. That’s all it is.”

“I’m not,” you say.

“You’re okay.”

“I’m not a princess,” you say, peeking at him through your parted fingers.

His hand curves around your arm. He pulls it toward him. Encouraging rather than demanding. You let him.

“Whatever it is that you are,” he says, meeting your eyes, “I’m here to take care of you. Okay? Try to calm down for me.” He nods, hoping you’ll nod back no doubt. You worry at your lip, your teeth scratching delicate skin.

“Sorry,” you say.

“No one’s expecting you to feel a certain way right now,” Sirius says.

The urgency in his expression has departed completely. He has an air of regret about him now, an uncomfortable set to his jaw.

It’s not just James in the room witnessing your wobble. You cover your face again and try to become one with the furniture.

James stands off of his knees, having seemingly decided that you aren’t in any mental peril. He stays hovering behind your chair. You think you might’ve found them all at a loss for what to do.

The door opens. You imagine a nightmare, Julianna coming to play nice, but it’s the British ambassador Lily once again. She looks as perfect as she did when you saw her last with an immaculately straightened sheet of hair fluttering behind her, her steps hurried. Despite her speed, she doesn’t look unhappy. She’s smiling. The Genovian ambassador Emmeline follows behind her.

You try to straighten up.

“We have wonderful news,” Lily says.

“You’re the Princess!” Emmeline squeaks, her tiny stature no bounds for her excitement. “Welcome home!”

She begins clapping. It slows when nobody joins in.

“What?” she asks cluelessly. “Has something bad happened?”

That’s what you’re trying to work out.

—

James can hear you sniffling.

He rests his shoulders against the wall by your bedroom door and sighs. You'd held in tears for hours after the announcement. Sirius' last announcement has toppled you over. You have to meet your grandmother tomorrow to begin preparing for your father's funeral. James thinks you might have reached your breaking point. He can't imagine the grief of losing a father you didn't know you had, and the stress of being pulled out of your life so suddenly, carted across Europe and left under the judgemental eyes of royals and officials with little direction. Now that the paternity test has been found positive and checked by many, many professionals, your confirmed identity should provide a more stable schedule. From James’ perspective, the days ahead will be easy. For you, they are going to be very, very hard.

You'll meet the Queen tomorrow at breakfast. The plans for your permanent residency in Genovia will be decided. Your entire life is about to change, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Well… James doesn't really want you to stop it, but it's not entirely true that you can't. You could reject your heritage and go home to your flat, your art, your degree equivalent classes. Maybe you're crying because you're scared you don't have options.

James thinks about knocking on the door to talk to you. He meant it when he said he has a duty to all aspects of your health, the mental as well as the physical, but it's difficult to define the line between professionalism and being friendly. He's already crossed it.

He sighs and rubs his weary head. He's tired. Today has been the longest day ever. You'd slept for an hour in the car from the airport to Bellaverden Castle, and James had watched you half jealous and half enraptured. He won't mind looking after you no matter how you look, but your being easy on the eyes is a brilliant plus. Well, when ignoring the huge bruise staining your cheek.

"Fuck," he says.

He hasn't been doing very well. Honestly, his failure to keep you from harm in your flat (even if the harm had been him) and then his screw up with the paparazzi has left him off kilter.

James pulls out his pager. He should swap with one of the night guards, and he trusts them all, having picked them himself, but he won’t feel right walking away while you're crying.

He clicks in Remus' code and waits until he hears it back. It's shorthand between them: if Remus wasn't awake or didn't want to see James, he could've ignored James' page and there'd be no hard feelings. But he answered. Tonight, once James has made sure you're okay, he'll crawl into Remus' bed like when they were kids in a cold dormitory and missing home to sleep for a glorious eight hours. He might even tell Remus how stressed he is. He knows his friend will listen.

He'd invite Sirius, of course, (and that's assuming he isn't already there) if it weren’t well past ten. Sirius is definitely asleep.

James hasn't had a proper night's sleep in a week. He feels poorly. He misses his mum. He's hungry. This job is great, he loves what he does; he gets paid to take care of people. It's also too much. It eats at him.

"Fuck," he says again.

"James?"

He flinches hard.

There it is, his third mistake. He's very lucky that the chief of royal security is busy making funeral arrangements, because if Mary were here she'd gut him.

You've crept up on him in his distraction. How could he not notice your footsteps across the floor, or your door handle's heavy metallic thunk?

"Princess," he says, biting his tongue when you wince. He'll have to call you something else. "I'm sorry, I–" James squints at your sore eyes.

"It's okay. I just wanted to ask… are you alright?"

"Am I alright?"

“I just heard you and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You sounded… stressy."

"You don't have to worry about me. That's my job." He frowns at the remnants of your tear stains, dampness shining at the corners of your eyes and your lashes sticking together in darkened triangles. "I was just about to come and see you, actually. I know today's been hard, and I know I haven't helped. I'm so sorry, again, for hurting you. And at the airport, I know the scuffle with the photographers didn't help your nerves. I know," he stresses, "this is hard. I swear things will be smoother from now on. You have my word."

You rub your elbow wordlessly. He's about to backtrack, perhaps dig himself a bigger hole, but then you give him one of the softest smiles anyone's ever given him in all his years.

"It's forgiven. Believe me, James, this is the least of my worries," you say, gesturing to your cheek. It only takes a second for shame to stick its hooks in you, yanking your gaze to the floor. You're wearing an expression he's seen a thousand times on the people closest to him.

He flicks you under the chin gently.

"Things are gonna get easier. I swear it," he says.

You plaster a smile on. James figures he can push it some more and wipes the smudgy shine of old tears off of your cheeks.

"There. Looking good, angel. Why don’t you try and get some rest now, yeah?"

He keeps getting this odd feeling like you're an old friend and not his charge. It's fleeting and it's making him stupid. This and the sleep deprivation. He swears to himself he'll be better tomorrow.

You bid him goodnight. James listens to your night time motions until another guard comes to release him from duty, rushing to his room for a shower and a cereal bar, giving his teeth a half-hearted brush before he sets off for Remus' room halfway across the castle. Remus and the other scarcely employed scholars don't have to sleep in the servant quarters like he and Sirius do. Schmucks.

He finds the door unlatched. Mercifully, James decides to spare them both the safety-related lecture. He tries to be as quiet as he can, a head of sandy brown hair turning his way just two steps into the room.

"James?" Remus asks, his voice thick with fatigue.

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep."

"I was waiting for you. Drifted off."

James scrubs a hand through his damp hair and closes the door. He can find his way in the dark.

"Sirius isn't here?"

"James…"

"What, are we still pretending?"

"James."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me, Moony."

"Yeah. Don't lean on my left side. I'll move over."

"What's wrong with your left side?"

"I don't know. Maybe from carrying the bags. Maybe not."

James slides into the warm space Remus has made for him and tries not to feel overprotective. Loving someone who's constantly in pain can be confusing. You don't know how much love you're allowed to give before it starts to be patronising. Remus can take care of himself, but he doesn't need to.

"Anything I can do?" James whispers.

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"Oh, you know… Everything. Nothing. I'm so happy we're all together again, I mean, what are the fucking odds? How long has it been since I could come and see you guys after work without making an appointment? … I didn't love the Prince, but I hate that he's dead, and I…"

Remus turns his head to James. They're a pillow apart. When James looks at him, he can't remember what Remus looked like when they were young, but he can feel the years of knowing one another stretching out between them. A straining cast of light from under the door catches the edges of Remus' features. James can see the corner of an uneven smile.

"Go on," Remus says quietly.

"She's nice. She's really nice. I don't want her to get hurt, but I don’t know that I’m up to this, Moony."

"James, you're up for everything. Always have been."

"I thought this was a demotion."

"Isn't it?"

"If it is, it's one I deserve. I deserve another one. Once Mary sees the mess I've made…"

Remus reaches across the sheets to pinch James' bicep. "Nobody is good at their new job. Sirius didn't touch up the princess' bruise when we got off the plane, and while they're paid off for now, someone who needs the better payout is going to publish those photos, and soon. Sirius should've been doing his job, but he was too busy looking after me."

"I tried to cover it–"

"I know. You did a good job and I'm not blaming you. My point is that he made a mistake. Does he deserve a demotion?"

James wrinkles his nose. Hate you.

"And I should've better prepared her for meeting Princess Julianna. It was my fault that she felt embarrassed. I tried my best to fit in some coaching for breakfast tomorrow but the poor girl doesn't know a butter knife from a paring knife."

"That's not true."

"No," Remus agrees. "I'm making her seem less educated than she is to prove my own point… James, she isn't a princess. She has the blood, and soon she'll get the official title, the land and the money and the education and maybe some of the bad bits, as well. But right now, she's new to being a princess, and she's not very good at it."

"I get it."

"Yeah, I know."

Remus readjusts in bed. James almost misses the pain in his friend's exhale under the sound of crunching fresh sheets.

"Are you sure I can't do something for you?"

"I wish," Remus says. He isn't depressed. The opposite, he sounds way too spritely for the time. "You could stop hogging the blankets, for starters."

James feeds Remus some more blanket and sighs. The mattress is heavenly. The quilts and sheets and pillowcases are soft and thick. By all means, James should've fallen asleep the second his head touched Remus’ pillow.

"You've asked Mickey to look after her tomorrow, right?" Remus asks.

James had radio'd Mikkelson after his shower to put the early morning shift and protocols in his jurisdiction temporarily. That means James will hopefully be able to sleep until his body feels like it can hold itself together again. He doesn't like leaving you to face the Queen by yourself but it's not as though she'll hurt you, and Sirius will see you bright and early to help you get dressed. James isn't worried.

"I have. How did you know that?"

"You're the only one of us who knows how to properly take care of themselves," Remus explains easily. "Good. I'm glad you did. You haven't been sleeping."

"How do you know that?"

"I love you. I know everything about you."

James smiles at the ceiling. There is nothing quite as valuable to him than his family. He would do more to keep them all safe and healthy than he should admit on the record, so he keeps it tucked inside and out of view. It's terrifying and freeing at once to look at someone you love and know you're going to do something awful one day if it means they'll come out on the other side of it alive.

"Not everything," he murmurs.

"Everything, James."

"Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up right now."

"One."

"Which?"

"Middle."

"Lucky guess." James laughs at their childish squabbling. "I love you, too. I'm really glad we're in the same place again."

"What did you say? What are the fucking odds?" Remus quotes, so tired now that his words are running together. "I'm not sod enough to do the maths, I think it's gotta be deep in the decimals. Lily's and Mary's involvement definitely helped, but to have someone come along who needs security detail, special education, and a lady in waiting is unfathomable."

James laughs and feels his abdomen shaking. "I'm telling Sirius you called him a lady in waiting."

"Sorry," Remus says, and James knows his friend is genuinely repentant, though Sirius would've laughed himself if he'd heard the joke. "I'm not trying to put him down. He's worked so hard, he– He's working so hard. He thinks it's easy work because he's good at it. He doesn't realise it's easy because he worked hard to be good at it."

James has to chew it over for a moment to understand what Remus is saying. Once he understands, he vehemently agrees. Sirius is skilled in many areas. He's a media liaison, a sleuth, a sweet talker. He understands the inner workings of Western media — Sirius can deduce the honesty of a smile from a precursory glance. He may not always trust what he's seeing, but he sees it undeniably. And he can dress well.

"He's the best of us," James sighs agreeably, stretching down the length of the bed until his spine pops and his calves burn. "Shit. I need to start working out properly again now we're here."

"Tomorrow. We'll figure it all out tomorrow, James. Go to sleep."

James is obedient. He falls asleep, and doesn’t wake until the sun is warming his cheeks. His hair is still damp at the back and he feels awful in a new way. Better for having slept with someone close by, and catching up on the hours he’s been missing. But his back is stiff.

He goes back to his room. His neck aches as he brushes his teeth. He does a workout and stretches his rigid limbs until he feels human again.

The black telephone on his nightstand starts to ring.

“Hello, sir,” Lily says cheerfully down the line. James can picture her sweet smile. “I couldn’t help but notice your absence this morning.”

“How did it go?” he asks, trying to tug on a new pair of socks one handed.

Lily hums. “It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t good, but it could’ve been worse. Her majesty liked her. Y/N was quiet, she was awkward, but we all know they prefer quiet to mouthy. The last thing they wanted was another Julianna. I felt kind of bad, really. Like I was handing her over.”

“She…” James sighs. “She didn’t seem upset, did she, Lils?”

“No, I actually think she was feeling good. Your boys took good care of her.”

“Brilliant. Oh, and to answer your unasked question, I’m being slovenly. I’ll be back on duty by noon.”

“Slovenly,” she repeats. “I’ve never known you to be any sort of lazy.” She laughs. James is happy that the sound doesn’t break his heart anymore. “Alright, James. I’ll see you later.”

He appreciates what she’s doing, letting him know you’re okay while he’s away. It’s uncanny how fast the people in charge of your care can band together, and Lily has always been kind.

James gives himself a minute to wipe away yesterday and prepare for today. He closes his eyes and shakes his head ferociously, his hair flying every which way. He sorts through all his worries one by one, letting that anxiety eat at him methodically —he’s a bad bodyguard, he’s a bad friend, he doesn’t call his mum enough, he’s chicken shit scared of dying alone, the works— and then pushing it away. Today is a new day with new opportunities. He can prove to you and to himself that he’s good at his job, he can make sure his friends are doing alright, he can call his mum tonight before dinner, and dying alone? He isn’t dying today. That one’s on the back burner.

He makes his way from his room in the quarter and into the main building, wary that he might come upon a duke or duchess. His radio, clipped as it always is against his left shoulder, chirps with chatter. He bites back a scolding about keeping the line clear and looks out of a Goliath glass window at the grounds below. A marble water fountain spurts proudly at the foot of the stairs, and an elaborate hedgework stands at pruned attention. It’s a nice day. He wonders if you’ll be up for walking.

He looks for you in the secondary parlour, the den, the library, the dining room. He swings by your room, and when you aren’t there he admits defeat and unclamps his radio, cutting through an inappropriate joke unapologetically.

“Afternoon. Location on Princess Y/N?”

He imagines his subordinates scrambling to answer, embarrassed by their unprofessionalism, but it’s likely they just don’t know where you are.

“If I don’t get an answer in the next five seconds, you can all expect to be running laps tonight. That includes you, Mikkelson, I don’t care how much overtime–”

“Sir, this is Daniels. Me and Roma are with the princess in the south wing.”

“Why?”

“She wanted a pencil sharpener.”

James grins to himself. The south wing (or, as James might put it, the guest wing), houses the scholars, the ambassadors, and whatever government official the royals are trying to butter up at the time. He’s feeling positively joyful when he finds you sketching, your face pressed to the window. The Genovian mountainscapes take shape on your page one confident stroke of graphite at a time, a small leather bound sketchbook pressed flat to your knee.

“Settling in?” he asks.

You raise your head but not your eyes. “You could say that.”

“How was meeting Her Majesty?”

You frown.

“That bad?” he asks.

“No, I mean. You know. She’s a queen. It was terrifying.”

Despite your unhappy mouth, you look as relaxed as you have since the moment he met you, dressed in a casual Genovian dress with subtle but remarkable stitching a shade darker than the dress itself and a squared neckline. Your calves are out and glossy in the daylight. They’re rather distracting.

“You look good,” James says carefully.

“I’ll miss the fancy lotions,” you say. Your pencil scratches away.

James’ hands falter where they’re clasped behind his back. “What?”

You meet his eyes properly. He hadn’t realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you weren’t, your face ringed with guilt, an explanation slow to come.

“I’m not staying. I can’t be a princess, James.” You shake your head mildly. “I’m going home.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading! oh no, you want to go home!! rest assured, james and co aren’t letting you go too easily. i hope you enjoyed, reblogs are always appreciated, a thousand kisses for all of you either way <3<3

#james potter fic #james potter #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #the marauders

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mmogurl · 5 days ago

Text

Last to Fall Chapter 3 - Dark On Me

18+ | 2.9k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | Unresponsive Aegon | half sister reader - you're a princess now! Fastest elevation in class ever! wholesome, fluff, severe injury and burns, mentions of death and other bad things, but still... this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

Ok! This chapter was actually very emotional for me to write. I think sometimes I put my mind too closely into that of my characters, because as I was imagining several parts of this chapter from the reader's perspective, I found myself tearing up. Hopefully that emotion comes across in the work and makes it better.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - Dark on Me I especially like the line - 'But I found in you what was lost in me.. In a world so cold and empty.' Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made all the gifs myself again! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

You hear the horns sound and watch from the balustrade as the procession makes its way through the city up towards the Red Keep. The soldiers return from battle victorious, carting the head of Meleys upon a wagon, but you haven’t seen Sunfyre return yet and nobody will tell you what has become of the king. You’ve heard his mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, mention Aegon in hushed whispers with some council members, but she has not deemed you worthy to share whatever information she has.

Even with the king’s decree elevating your status to that of princess, none will tell you what has happened. You must assume the worst. As the caravan draws closer to the castle, you can see another cart led by two horses. It carries what appears to be a casket covered by many blankets and your heart sinks at the thought of your most dire fears come true.

He cannot be dead. No, no. You won’t accept it.

You rush down to the courtyard, to await the arrival of your king, praying to any gods that might listen that he is still alive. A large contingent of the Kingsguard greet you outside and you feel even more strongly now that your assumption must be true. That Aegon is indeed in that wooden tomb, very likely deceased, but your heart still holds out hope that you’re wrong. The massive gates open to the inner wall of the keep and you watch with despair as the wagon is pulled forward.

As the wooden cart stops, your eyes dart to and fro as men step up to bear the casket forth. You catch the gaze of one of the white cloaks standing near you, and plead with him for answers. “Is he dead?” you whisper, desperate to know the fate of the man who had asked you to be his.

He offers a knowing expression of remorse, but nothing more. You are forced to follow behind as six men carry the king inside, be he dead or alive. You can’t help but wonder where everyone is. Where is his mother? His brother? Where is the small council? Is nobody here to witness the return of the king? You can’t help but to cry quietly as you follow the men of the City Watch and Kingsguard combined with your hung head low.

They carry the massive wooden crate all through the castle, heading upstairs until they enter Maegor’s Holdfast. You pass by Queen Helaena who is standing outside of her chambers, observing the procession with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if they had kept the truth from her as well. When your eyes lock onto each others, her features twist with curiosity at the sight of your tears, but there is no malice present.

Helaena has never been rude or cruel to you, despite her knowledge of your role in Aegon’s life. She almost seemed grateful that you were able to offer him the companionship that she could not. The queen did not follow further, opting to stay back, likely having a sense that even more tragedy was on the horizon. You didn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t change that you must know. You had to see with your own eyes what had become of your love, Aegon.

As the doors to the king’s chambers opened, your gaze fell upon Alicent standing to the side by the windows. Of course she had known, but chose to leave you in the dark, suffering alone with your doubts and fears. When she saw you, she averted her eyes for a moment, her facade of calm cracking slightly before she steeled herself and offered you a nod. You returned the gesture with a trembling lower lip stepping aside to watch what came next.

They removed the lid of the casket and a whimper escaped your lips as one soldier took Aegon’s sword, Blackfyre, from within and placed it to the side with reverence. The soldiers cleared the room as men dressed in black heaved a dark canvas bag from within the wooden coffer. The sight of this actually made you fall to your knees with grief, finally seeing proof that Aegon was not of this world anymore.

A lamenting wail throbbed through your chest as they placed Aegon’s body on the bed. Your hand clutched the footboard as you fell down on one knee, barely keeping yourself upright. Alicent came to stand beside you, and you barely noticed the presence of the maesters entering through your sobbing.

“Is he alive?” the Queen Dowager asked with a mixture of shock and trepidation. The words stopped your weeping instantly as you pulled yourself up and leaned over the bedframe.

“His Grace, remains with us, for the moment,” Grand Maester Orwyle answered somberly.

You let out whining gasp that makes you sound like a pathetic animal, but you can’t help it. “He was alive? And you carted him through the streets as though he were a corpse!?” You cannot help but cry out as you stare accusingly at Alicent, appalled by the treatment he’d received.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” the Queen Dowager replies looking bewildered as the sight before her seemed to sink in. “They told me.. They thought it would be best that nobody saw the injuries he sustained.”

You stop your outrage, realizing that she likely didn’t know the extent of the damage either. Still, you wish she would have confided in you what little she had known so that you might have better prepared for this.

Orwyle takes an instrument from his medical kit and begins to remove pieces of Aegon’s armor. The more you look, the more you begin to understand what has happened to him. The entire left side of his body, from his head all the way down to his leg, has been scorched by dragonflame. His arm appears to have been dealt the brunt of the damage, where the Valyrian steel has melted into his limb, leaving it a gored tangle of flesh and metal.

A cry threatens to escape your lips once more, but you stifle it. There will be time for sobbing later, but for now you wish to keep yourself preoccupied. “I wish to help,” you say desperately, but everyone is so busy at work that nobody even responds. “Please,” you ask again, your brows furrowed with anguish. “I need to help.”

Alicent offers a glance at one of the maesters assisting Orwyle and from there, a chain reaction of assent occurs, until finally a young man tugs your arm and pulls you to the side.

“You can aid me in making the poultices,” he says softly. You cannot possibly express how grateful you are for the opportunity to stay busy, while attempting to save your king. You offer the Queen Dowager an appreciative look from across the room and return to learning how to prepare the treatment for Aegon.

It is likely a good thing that you are not watching as they remove the king’s armor, for you can hear his ragged breaths and the gasp that startles from Alicent’s mouth in response to it.

“Is my son going to die?” she asks sounding petrified. You do not wish to hear it, but you can’t tune it out either.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Orwyle responds quietly, turning his head to regard the Queen Dowager for a moment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, these next hours are most critical.”

“Of course,” Alicent replies, taking a step back so that she’s no longer interfering with the healers work.

The young maester in training hands you a plate filled with individual leaves of steamed cabbage and notions for you to take it to the bed. “Take these,” he says quietly as a mouse. You don’t hesitate to obey, not wanting to hinder Aegon’s chances for survival.

You hold the tray out, leaning over Aegon’s bed, to an aged maester with a gray beard dressed all in dingy whites. He begins to take one piece at a time, placing the wraps at the bottom of Aegon’s broken leg and working his way up. Your hands shake slightly, but you do your best to stall your trembling so that you might be of use. Stealing a glance down the length of the bed, you see Orwyle sponging charred bits away from Aegon’s once pristine face.

Your heart aches, but you push it deep down. There will be time to grieve later if he dies, but you refuse to give into despair again before that actually happens.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” the cold and familiar voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn to your right and see Aemond standing there, dead center at the foot of Aegon’s bed. He had always seemed dangerous to you, but has never looked this unhinged before. You can’t help but wonder what might have happened at the battle of Rook’s Rest to change his demeanor so drastically. The way he looks at Aegon, it reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse, holding it by the tail and swatting at it.

You can’t help but wonder how he stands there without an ounce of concern for his brother. As your discomfort grows, you decide that you will have to keep an eye on the prince from now on. You swear solemnly to yourself, glaring at Aemond while you do so, that you will keep watch on the king as though your life depended on it. Just in case.

————

It has been a couple of days now and while Aegon has not yet woken, he has not yet passed into the arms of the Stranger either. He’s been cleaned up considerably, and his wounds all tended to. The only remnants of the horror you witnessed when he first arrived in the Red Keep being the charcoal still tinting his cheek and of course all of the burns that lace his left side. His broken leg is propped up to keep the blood from swelling, but otherwise Aegon looks peaceful in his slumber, despite the audible struggle he has breathing. You lay next to Aegon on the bed, unwilling to leave his side for any reason lest he might wake alone without a caring face to welcome him back. Nestled carefully against the side of him that is not horribly burnt, it almost feels comforting to feel his chest rise and fall beside you with a fire crackling in the hearth.

At first, you worried that Aegon might pass at any given moment, but once he was out of imminent danger, it became a waiting game. Inevitably boredom overcame you as the king continued to sleep. You took to cleaning to pass the time. First, washing and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the floor in his chambers despite the objection of everyone that came across your endeavoring to stay sane. You then moved onto dusting and cleaning out the tapestries. It was one of the few times you’d left the king’s chambers since he returned, but you wanted to take everything outside to be aired out, lest there be a dust storm within.

A soft sigh pulls you from your memories and your eyes open to see Alicent sitting at the side of Aegon’s bed. Her hand is clinging to his as she leans slightly onto the bed. You can tell from her expression that this whole situation has been very taxing on her. Within such a short span of time, she’s almost lost her eldest son and king, and been passed over for the regency of the realms in his absence for Aemond. Given the predatory way the new Prince Regent had been staring at Aegon days prior, this is a decision you wholeheartedly disagree with.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown to appreciate Alicent’s company. At first she seemed annoyed by your presence, but you can only assume that in seeing your dedication to her son, she’s softened towards you. She’s even shared several kind words with you, which felt incredibly awkward, especially when she began referring to you as ‘The Princess,’ a title you are still not accustomed to hearing anyone speak, let alone her.

The Queen Dowager had never acknowledged the decree previously, but then none of the acceptance really matters without Aegon here to share it with. He’d talked of marrying you upon his return and now you wondered if that would ever happen. Your fingers caress softly along his arm, a motion that has become almost involuntarily by now as you huddle to him, hoping that your touch will bring him back.

Alicent stands suddenly, her eyes bleary as she places a hand on her son’s good cheek. She almost looks afraid to get too close, as though admitting the depth of her care for him might somehow make it hurt more to lose him. She nods a soft ‘good night’ to you and goes to leave the room. You watch for a moment as the maester opens the door for her in anticipation, and rest your head back down on the pillow.

And that’s when you hear it, so quiet and coarse that you might have missed it if you had not been right beside him. “Mummy,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

You dart up from the bed with haste, looking at him incredulously, as though he had just risen from the dead. “Queen Dowager!” you cry out, not wishing to disturb him, but needing to get her attention. “Maesters! He spoke!” You realize you are laughing with relief as you call out to the them, brushing the backs of your knuckles upon Aegon’s cheek gently as you coo to him. “She is coming, my love.”

As Alicent rushes back to her son’s bedside, you both share a look of hopeful promise. “What did he say?” she asks, her eyes searching over Aegon as though he might move, and than glancing back to you.

“He said ‘Mummy,’” you answer with a smile, happy to see the look of touched gratitude that appears on her face.

“Oh my sweet son…” she trails off, seemingly unable to put words to how she is feeling. She stands beside him, reaching out with a little more confidence this time. “Mummy’s here,” she offers quietly as the two maesters on duty gather behind her.

Aegon lets out a gravelly sound, his breath hitching as he fights for consciousness.

“We’ll let Grand Maester Orwyle know of this development,” one of the men in white offers. “But if he is soon to be speaking with us, it is good news indeed.”

The Queen Dowager is in high spirits when she is finally ready to leave for the night, so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she says, looking you in the eyes as she rises from her chair. “You didn’t have to call me back, but I’m glad that you did.”

“Who am I to deny him his mother if that’s who he’s ask for?” you say as though there was no other possible outcome in your mind.

She smiles at you with a warmth she’s never shown you before, nodding slightly. “Will you have them fetch me if he wakes again?” she asks with fondness in her voice.

“Of course,” you reply, settling back into the bed beside Aegon. You are surprised when she walks around to your side of the bed, and proceeds to mother you under the covers.

“If you’re going to spend your nights in here, than the least you can do is keep comfortable,” Alicent says with a hint of jest in her tone.

It is definitely a touch strange as she pulls the blanket up and around you, tucking it underneath you slightly. It’s almost suffocating, but in a nice way. “Good night,” you say, turning on your side towards Aegon. You’ve practically made a nook at his side from the amount of time you’ve spent there by now.

“Sleep well,” Alicent calls as she extinguishes the candles, leaving nothing but the hearth to light the immediate vicinity. She ushers the maesters out of the room, with an authoritative pitch. “Get some rest for the night, my son is in good hands as you can plainly see.”

As the doors close and you’re left in silence, you can’t help but consider how sometimes the worst things in life can really help to bring people together. You’ve also seen tragedy tear relationships apart, but when something beautiful can blossom from the ashes of destruction, it almost feels like everything is going to be alright again. Like Aegon is going to wake up and get out of his bed and move on with his life. And when he does, he’ll find himself rousing to a world in which his mother might feel a little more comfortable showing her thanks for his company.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent. Despite all of the medicinal herbs and the lingering remnants of carbon, you can still smell him. You press a tender kiss on his neck, right below his ear, humming softly as you taste him on your lips.

Whispering softly, you beseech him with kindness, “I love you, Aegon.” You run the tip of your nose against his jawline, savoring the feel of him. “I’ll wait for you… As long as it takes. Just come back to me.”

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141goblin · 7 months ago

Text

Hi people. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a fanfic and I thought i’d put a feeler out there to see if people are interested in reading my silly little brain worms and thoughts. Word of warning, it’s little rusty and definitely still a work in progress. I don’t yet have a title or anything like that, but i wanna share (ok ok leave me alone)

Part one: Soft.

Reader described as plus-sized. Fem reader. Implied past abusive relationship.

John Price X Reader.

“Amelia, I said no!” I huff into the phone, getting increasingly frustrated at my best friend’s insistence. She had been going on and on about some big military party that her boyfriend was going to, and of course, because we’re basically attached at the hip, she ‘needs me there’.

“Oh, come onnnn! It’ll be fun! And who knows, we might finally find you a man for you to spend time with instead of you sitting in your apartment and watching reruns of gilmore girls twenty-four-seven.”

I huff and roll my eyes, grateful that she isn’t able to see me. Honestly, the thought of having to drag myself off of my couch and go through the motions of getting ready and attempting to doll myself up makes me feel physically ill. Truth be told, I haven’t left my apartment for weeks. Not since i had that god-awful night with my arsehole of an ex boyfriend.

My mind drifts back to that night, the time I spent getting ready and psyching myself up, all for me to get there and be completely disregarded and used. Like a piece of meat. He’d been blowing up my phone with messages ever since, insisting he was sorry, and that it won’t happen again, and he just got carried away. I hadn’t had the mental capacity to message him back.. My best friends voice pulls me back to reality.

“You’re coming. I’ll be at your flat in twenty minutes with pre drinks. Shower and shave.”

Before I get any chance to worm my way out of this ridiculous ordeal, she kisses me good-bye through the phone and hangs up. I throw my phone to the opposite end of the couch and groan into a pillow. Just when I was settled, watching gilmore girls for the umpteenth time, with a glass of wine and a bowl of crisps… Shit, maybe I do need to get out…

I down the rest of my glass of wine and wince at the taste. I make a mental note to stop being cheap and buying shit wine just because it’s cheaper. After all, it’s not like I can’t afford to buy nicer tasting wine. But truthfully, I don’t go to tescos at 8pm in my pyjamas and buy nice wine to be all sophisticated. I do it to buy cheap wine and get drunk while i watch gilmore girls and cry, wishing i had the same relationship with my mother that Lorelai and Rory have. It’s pitiful, and pathetic.

I huff and drag myself off of my couch and make my way into my bathroom to shower. Once undressed, i notice just how hairy my legs have gotten. But, is it really worth the effort, the sweating and red face just to have smooth legs? I brush off the thought and step into the hot shower. I do my usual: wash and condition my hair, wash my face and body, and then actually decide to shave my goddamn legs. It takes me the better part of fifteen minutes, but beauty is pain, as they say.

Just as i’m stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that’s all too small to cover my stomach and wide thighs, my best friend makes herself known, clearly having used her spare key to let herself into my flat. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust at the state of the place and she’s begun to pick up my clothes that are strewn about the place, throwing them into the washing machine. I roll my eyes and make my way into my bedroom, and she follows. She has that shit-eating grin on her face that I know all too well. No doubt she’s going to make me squeeze into some tiny outfit in the hopes i’ll impress some random man and hopefully let him fuck my brains out. She’s highly mistaken.

Instead of a skimpy outfit, we compromise. I end up wearing a mid-length silk dress that has a risky slit up the leg, but not too high that it shows off my cellulite, one of my biggest insecurities. She does up my hair into a messy bun with a few curls framing my face and insists on me wearing her favourite red lipstick, telling me i’ll look ‘fuckable’, her words, not mine. After strapping some heels onto my feet I take one last look in the mirror, face slightly flushed from the two or three glasses of wine Amelia practically poured down my throat to loosen me up. I should feel beautiful, but I don’t. I can’t help but feel like a pig, wrapped in silk and smothered in ridiculous lipstick. Ready to be taken off to market and ridiculed by men that think it’s shameful to like a fat girl. My ex-boyfriend’s attitude and words from the duration of our relationship echoing around my head.

“They don’t see you like I do, babe. They don’t see your personality.”

“You’re wearing that?”

“Oh come on, babe. I was only looking at her. She’s a model, what do you expect?”

After a too long uber ride full of pep-talks by Amelia and discreetly drinking from the remnants of a bottle of wine, we’re standing outside of what can only be described as a fucking mansion. The type that has stairs leading up to its entrance that’s held up by beautifully structured pillars, the type of place i write about in my short stories. There are too many windows to count, most of them lit up by subtle golden glow, the soft buzz of music that’s able to be heart from outside, something soft and jazzy, like the type of music you’d hear in an old jazz bar in New York.

I’m too busy marvelling at the ‘fucking mansion’ in front of me when I hear the recognisable voice of Amelia’s boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny is the type of guy that can make any girl weak in the knees with his charming smile and sparkling blue eyes. He’s sweet and cheeky, but not my type.

“There you two are! Was beginning ‘ter think ‘yaes got lost.”

I give Johnny a polite smile and continue looking up at the grandeur of the building in-front of me while he gives Amelia a kiss and whispers something flirty in her ear. Johnny and Amelia are solid, and he’s good for her. Plus, he knows we come as a package deal, so he makes sure to make me feel included when I end up tagging along on their days out or evening drinks.

“Looking good, bonnie.” Johnny says to me, with a cheeky wink. Amelia laughs, her signature sweet giggle, and it’s clear why she turns heads everywhere we go.

I force a smile and hold back a self-deprecating remark.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

Amelia takes Johnny by the arm and leads her inside, making me follow like an awkward third wheel. I try my best not to feel like an idiot as i’m led into the main ballroom, where i assume the party is being held. Johnny leads us to the bar and buys the three of us a round of drinks. I try to insist that I can buy my own, but both he and Amelia dismiss it and i’m left with a blueberry Martini sitting in front of me at the bar.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk between the three of us, mixed in with too much PDA between Johnny and Amelia for my liking, Johnny leads Amelia off to meet some of his friends, leaving me alone at the bar. I hoist myself onto a barstool, arse spilling over the edge. Fuck sake, I think. People need to start inventing barstools that are fat-girl friendly. I ignore the buzz of chatter in the ballroom and down the rest of my blueberry martini, flagging down the bartender for another one.

I begin sipping on the fresh Martini and start looking back around the room. I can’t help but think this would be a perfect scene to write in one of my stories. A room packed full of rich people dressed in fancy suits and expensive dresses, where everyone pretends to be on their best behaviour.

After a few minutes of being alone at the bar, I make peace with the fact that I will likely be alone for most of the night while Amelia mingles with Johnny and his friends. It doesn’t bother me, per say, but something deep within my belly wishes that one, just once, I could be the one to turn heads, to capture the attention of a group of people with nothing but my appearance and laugh, to have people willing to talk to me and learn about me, without feeling like it’s out of pity.

I shrug to myself and take a few more sips of my martini and let my attention wander over to my best friend and her boyfriend, and his group of (presumably) military friends. Johnny must’ve noticed me sitting alone at the bar and felt pity for me because I see him making his way over, sporting his disarming smile. I smile back.

“What’s the matter, Lass? Not enjoying ‘yerself?”

He leans on the bar casually, and it’s clear he’s making an effort to make me feel included.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine, Johnny. You can go back to your mates and Amelia, don’t worry about me.”

He cocks a brow and flashes that cheeky grin.

“Not gonna join us?”

I shake my head and take another sip of my martini, waving a dismissive hand. I attempt to play it off with a joke.

“Doubt i’d fit in with your military mates.”

He scoffs and looks jokingly offended.

“Aye, come on, Bonnie. We don’t bite. I know Si looks like a scary fucker, but we’re a nice bunch. I swear.”

I laugh and take another sip. Johnny is a good guy, there’s no denying that, even if it does feel like he’s taking pity on his girlfriends fat, single friend that looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Judging from the way he talks about ‘Si’, I make an assumption that he’s the one with the dirty-blonde hair, the one who’s built like a brick shit-house and looks like he could snap anyone in half with one hand.

Johnny points to one of the other lads, a typical pretty boy with striking brown eyes.

“That’s Gaz. He’s a good’un. Likes to flirt too much, but e’s harmless.”

I follow Johnny’s finger as he points to the third man. A man who’s wide, and fucking muscly, but looks like he has a soft layer of fat underneath that expensive suit of his.

“And that, that’s the Cap’n. The best of us all. Keeps us in check when we cause trouble. He won’t admit it, but he’s a softie at heart.”

My eyes stay on the wide man a little longer than the others. I see a smile under his well-groomed mutton chops and moustache that’s peppered with little greys here and there. His shoulders look like they’re about to burst out of his shirt at any given moment, and his hips are exactly the same. That’s all contrasted by his blue eyes, like a deep pool that women no doubt get lost in. The man’s a fucking contradiction. Too wide, Too soft.

Johnny’s voice snaps me back into the room, averting my eyes away from the man I know as ‘Captain’.

“Come on, Bonnie. Come say hello, mingle a little. We don’t bite.”

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #john price #john price x reader #self indulgent #modern warfare #fem reader #plus sized reader

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