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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 7 months ago

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But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."

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mountainsandmayhem · 8 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks. CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present.

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things.

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple.

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas.

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.”

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things.

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat.

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!”

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.”

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.”

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean.

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional.

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.”

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.”

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough.

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles.

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.”

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole.

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror.

But not JM.

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility.

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February.

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home.

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’.

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that.

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'.

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome.

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out.

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?”

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head.

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.”

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck?

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed?

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman.

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone.

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her.

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip.

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass.

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft.

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?”

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you.

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him.

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.”

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.”

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning.

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.

Next Chapter

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simpjaes · 1 year ago

Text

FRENZY ៸៸៸ part two

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.

៸៸៸ part one here ៸៸៸ you must read the first part in order to understand this one!

៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader

៸៸៸ minors dni

៸៸៸ wordcount: 14.2k

៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.

៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

៸៸៸ a/n: sorry again for the way i had to post this in two parts, still i hope it was worth the wait!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The next morning, you were late waking up to log into your work account but Jake was still there, drowsy and smiling at you from the moment you opened your eyes.

You briefly remember the early morning pouting he gave you, hard against you and lips all over you, and in turn you remember how you made a promise to yourself swiftly after rejecting his needs.

Your face heated up the second he said good morning to you, flustered over the fact that not only do you want him, but you want him to want you like that again, despite your rejection. After all, you let him sleep over, and he didn’t try to take advantage of you despite sporting an intense boner through the majority of it.

He sees the way your eyes check him out upon waking up too, but you stay silent after he gives you his good morning greeting.

“Are you hungry? I can step out and pick up some breakfast so you can work.” He offers, stretching his arms out wide and tapping you to stand up. “I’m staying again today.”

Your eyes widen at him, but the smile on your face betrays that little red flag in your head that has forced you, up to this point, to struggle to give him what he needs.

“I’d like that.” You nod to him, cheeks permanently warmed at the image of your shining boyfriend. “Sorry about last night.” You blurt now, standing up and stretching yourself.

“It’s fine love, it's just hard to keep my hands to myself sometimes.” He says, intensely watching your reaction.

You lend a pause in your stretch at those words, having heard them before when your ex did things that made your body ache for weeks. There is a pull in your gut hearing him say that before you remind yourself that they’re just words. He just really likes you, and he did stop when you told him to.

He is not your ex.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you though,” He continues, seeing you deep in thought in front of him. “If you’d have let me, I mean.”

“Jake I–” You stop yourself, feeling a flood of words on the tip of your tongue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” You confirm, now moving forward to hug against him. “I would have–”

“You would?” His eyes light up, smile brighter than you’ve ever seen before.

“No, I mean,” You stutter in panic, hugging him tighter. “I would have touched you if you asked.”

His eyes go dark instantly, making his smile seem more eerie than anything as you look up at him.

“I’m okay with doing the touching, we can work our way up to the other stuff…maybe? If that’s okay?”

“Oh, baby, that’s more than okay.” He coos out, now losing his appetite for actual food and wanting nothing more than to show you just how good he could really be for you. His arms hug you tightly before releasing you, and he ushers you across the room. “We can talk about this later though, you’re already late, right?”

You nod, feeling a bit better about initially rejecting him and doing just that, moving to the small nook that holds your desk and PC and listening to him slip his shoes on.

“I’m going to grab breakfast, and I’m gonna stop by my place to grab some clothes.”

He leaves before you can answer, which is nice because part of you didn’t want to hear your own voice accepting that.

Accepting that he’s leaving right now, accepting that he’s coming back to stay another night, accepting that you feel perfectly fine with all of this despite your inner demon advising you to run.

You don’t know who you are in this moment, but what you do know is that you’re safe. That’s what’s driving you to act blatantly against what your own brain is telling you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re clinging and Jake is fucking devoted to the feeling of it.

Devoted to the way your fingers, so much smaller than his own, grab him to kiss him. Devoted to the way you kiss the bruise above his brow, and the way you ask him to stay for another night, and another, and another, up until he finds himself doing his and your laundry together just so he doesn’t have to go back home to grab more clothes to rotate through.

It’s been a week since he’s been in your apartment, rolling around on your bed with you in it, cleaning himself in your shower, washing himself with your soap. It’s like only the two of you exist in this space, where he is the only one to step out and see the sun, solely so you don’t have to.

Or, solely so you can’t. He doesn’t think he’d let you at this point, now that you’re his and you prove it with each kiss and hug. All you need to do is sit and look pretty, sit and love him. That’s what your purpose is in this relationship, he will do the rest.

Given, he’s also fucked his fist each second he can get in your bathroom. But goddamn do you cling. You whine when he separates himself from you even for a moment, and day by day he can see you come closer and closer to fulfilling his need to be loved by you entirely.

Your phone hasn’t received any unsavory messages you’ve noticed as well, they haven’t needed you to come into the office, and all you can manage to think is that…you’re in love with being in this apartment with him.

Only good things happen when Jake is with you and you’re growing so attached that you’ve thought more than once to just move him in with you. Your mother would scold you, your ex would kill you, and arguably, Jake would absolutely do it.

He waits on you hand and foot. Cooking, cleaning, doing your laundry, holding you and giving you some of the best sleep you’ve had in years. You refrain from considering it seriously though, because this relationship is still so new. You don’t want to freak him out or cause an uproar in your already fucked up and unsteady life. You’re throwing yourself in like you always do, but…is it so bad when he’s doing the exact same thing?

Until he’s not, anyway.

“Love,” Jake starts, tapping his chin with the tips of his fingers as he lounges on your bed. “I need to go home today.”

Your heart immediately sinks.

“What? Why?” You ask in a voice that plainly shows your panic.

“Well,” He taps on his chin again before moving his hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure my mailbox is probably full by now, I need to clean out my fridge, and I should probably check my course work.”

“You’re…in college?”

Jake nods with a snicker, laughing at how he’s given up his entire life for you.

“Yeah, probably won’t be soon though.” He laughs, shaking his hair out and then looking at you with big, rounded eyes. “Just for the day, I’ll be back before sunset.”

You look down in a disappointed way before nodding to him.

“Aww, babe. Don’t be like that–” He mock pouts as he turns to you, grabbing both of your cheeks and squishing them up, forcing your lips to pucker before landing a harsh kiss against them. “I’m coming right back, I promise.”

You nod again, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face.

“You’re so cute, it’s going to kill me one of these days.” He smiles back at you, hopping up and preparing himself to head back to his apartment.

What you don’t know is that, while Jake wasn’t lying and that he should at least clean out his fridge, he needed to go home.

He needs to unload the footage onto his computer, he needs to watch it back, he needs to fuck something.

And so, he does just that.

The second he gets back to his apartment, it’s almost uncomfortable. Unfamiliar scents, no warmth, rotting food in the fridge, neglected pillows and bed sheets.

Even so, it’s like he acts on instinct when he walks past everything he needs to do and lands himself at the window. His mind takes over in an instant.

It felt like so long ago when he first saw you from here, knowing you were the most beautiful, the perfect girl for him. Knowing you would love him too, and that you’d never want to leave him. He smiles at his victory, knowing that you’re sitting in that apartment right now thinking about him too. If he knew where he would be now, he thinks his former self may have very well fucked himself to death. After all, he’s felt you, tasted you, and even seen parts of you based on the little image he sent to himself from your phone. Everything happened better than he knew it would.

If it weren’t for your ex, perhaps you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment. Perhaps you wouldn’t have clinged to him so immediately.

In a way, he almost wants to thank the man before he eventually strangles the life out of him.

He’s tasted almost all of you by this point, and each moment it happened is trapped within the files of that little camera there. All of it, for him to remember. Each kiss and makeout session he made sure happened in the view of this camera, and so badly does he want to watch over and over again the moments where you gave in to him. The moments where you needed him.

He’s quick to push the camera to his pc, uploading a weeks worth of files before placing it back onto the window sill and immediately shoving his hand down his pants.

Jake shivers at the first unrestricted graze of his hand against his cock, eyebrows falling into that of probably one of the most pathetic faces he could ever make in his life. The relief is so good, so painful.

He can’t fucking help it. After jerking off multiple times a day before finding himself in your apartment with you, it’s hard to only do it once a day within a short time span of a few minutes. He felt so restricted in terms of his release, and he has so much cum to give right now. He’s aching for it. He wants to bleed it dry.

He wants you so bad at this point, seeing you dangle yourself in front of him and not yet give in to at least going down on him– he needs this. He needs it now.

Even if it’s not you touching him, he needs to release before he takes it from you. Before he does something stupid and makes you hate him forever. Before he really does become your ex. It felt like he was going insane in your apartment, surrounded by you, only wanting to fuck you, and still not getting to.

God, the footage is so grainy but it hits his cock so fucking fast. He memorized each moment as it happened, and now watching it in third person makes him feel as if he’s some sort of ghost. Like he’s having an out of body experience and can see and feel you in a completely different light.

In more ways than he already has, even.

He releases within thirty seconds, barely holding his cock when he doubles over at the footage of that very first, harsh kiss you gave him. Sensitive and twitching, his raging length spilled all in his pants, drenches them through even, as his body shakes with the need for more.

And as if it never happened, he takes a firmer hold of his cock now, fast forwarding the footage to each and every kiss, wondering how good those lips of yours would feel elsewhere on his body. How pretty your moans would sound for him, how cute your hand looked gripping your tit in that little nude of yours, how–

He comes again, forcing him to let out a choked sob and drop his head to his desk. God, it hurts. He’s so sensitive, and still, he wants you so bad. His dick is still raging, aching, and begging, especially when he thinks of how you’ve been clinging. How your hands have fucked yourself, and how badly he wants them to stay on him forever.

God he wishes your fingers could slice him open, leaving painful and love-filled reminders of not who you belong to, but of who he belongs to.

When he thinks of how he’s only doing this right now because you have your claws buried into him already, almost refusing to let him leave you, he knows he could come another four or five times within the next thirty minutes solely because you cling, and cling, and fucking cling. Fuck..

That’s so hot to him.

He’d let you cage him up in a heartbeat, he’d let you fuck his entire life up and then laugh at him for it. It’s what you deserve. To have a man willing to do anything for you, someone willing to give up everything just to hear you breathe, to have him be that person.

Third release, forcing him to hold his breath to the point of feeling faint.

The veins on his neck protrude, sweat now dripping down his brow.

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts.

But it doesn’t hurt enough.

And all day he does this. Until the sun is telling him that he needs to go back to you, until his hair is drenched in sweat and his arm is sore. Until his body feels weak and his cock feels spent, raw, and still throbbing for more.

It hurts when he puts on a new pair of pants, hurts even more when he forces himself to squat in front of his fridge to clean it out, opting to toss everything into a bag rather than sifting through what’s good and what isn’t.

Now more than ever does he want you against him, knowing that he’s fucked himself half to death solely to keep himself from scaring you, and still he isn’t satisfied.

At this point, nothing will satisfy him but you. He knows this now.

He’s quick to lock up, even quicker to toss his trash, and finds himself inside of your lobby at a loss.

Goddamn his libido. Goddamn this love for you.

He can’t stop wanting you, and he can’t just fuck the need away himself at this point. He needs you to fuck his brain quiet, only you can satiate this horrifyingly deep hunger.

Waiting, watching, waiting, waiting, waiting.

He’s waited enough. He’s done waiting.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake appears at your door right on time, and you were expecting to see his smiling face and big stretched out arms to greet you as you open the door for him.

You didn’t get that though. In fact, you found yourself frozen with the door half open as you stared at your boyfriend and the way his terrifyingly small pupils looked back at you before instantly growing twice the size. So different from this morning, heaving, lips shaking, eyes darker than they’ve ever been.

Before you can even ask why he’s looking at you like that, you learn exactly why.

“I’m going fucking insane.” Jake says shortly in a hot whisper, stepping forward and slamming the door behind him. You feel his hands on you instantly, slipping under your shirt and grabbing your waist tightly. “Can’t be away from you, can’t be with you, I can’t stand it.”

You just listen, feeling him walk you into the living room, fluttering his lips all over your face and neck, only to press you up and against the window with his entire body pinning you there with a slam.

You’re shocked, unable to do anything but listen to him and feel the way his hands grip and search your entire body for something to hold onto.

“All fucking day,” Jake seethes out angrily, pulling back from you and grabbing your face to turn it. Almost pissed that you simply exist in front of him right now. “Right there.” He says, pointing directly to his apartment. “I sat right there trying to deal with this.” He presses his hips against you, letting you feel exactly what he’s talking about. “And still, I need more.”

Your brain goes numb. Or maybe it goes hot, you’re not sure. You’ve only recently realized that he turns you on beyond belief, it’s difficult to decipher the difference between horniness and fear right now.

“Jake–” You turn back to him, now using your own hands to grab his face, forcing his eyes to steady and look at you, as if to bring him back to reality. “Do you need–”

He cuts you off with a harsh kiss, hands running up just to press you harder against the window, his hips chasing whatever he can get from you. Like he’s using you in this moment, as if you’re not real and simply a doll for him to release against and inside of.

He’s fucking gone. Outside of himself, and you, and the universe as a whole.

“What I need,” He says, pulling back and stating in an almost demanding tone. “Is for you to take care of me.”

You knew this would come sooner or later, and you’d been trying to work up the courage to do it. You’ve run his patience dry, and you guess it’s now or never at this point.

“Just tell me.” You whisper submissively, wanting to give him whatever he needs solely so that he won’t leave you.

You see his expression soften within a split second, his hips release their pressure against you, and he pulls his hands back.

“Fuck.” He lets out apologetically, demeaning himself for losing his control and being so blatant. Pointing out his fucking apartment to you. “Baby, I’m sorry, I–”

You’ve already made your decision, understanding exactly why your boyfriend broke his composure. This past week proved enough to you that he wasn’t in it to fuck you, and even though his needs weren’t being met, he still worked hard to meet yours, you feel…

Yeah, you’re happy he did this. Even the force didn’t scare you entirely. The only thing that scares you is him leaving you over this. And he watches as you do it, sinking to your knees and reaching out to hook your fingers into the loops on his pants.

“Baby,” He warns you, feeling you pull him straight to you. “Wait, wait.”

You don’t, knowing that if you were to stop now you might end up talking yourself out of doing this again.

“No,” You shake your head, lifting on your knees just to rub your cheek against the length in his pants. “Let me take care of you, I’ve neglected you enough.”

God, he fucking buckles. Dropping right to his knees in front of you, pulling you in by the face, and kissing you as hard as he possibly can. His entire body quivers, bursting in a euphoric sense of arousal as the hairs rise on his body at the very image of you on your knees for him.

“You’re so good to me,” He mumbles through kissing you. “So, so good to me.”

And you just let yourself feel it. Intensely, to the point that even your stomach flips at knowing what’s about to happen.

Strangely enough, it flips in a good way. You haven’t felt like this in years, and it brings so much glee to you knowing that Jake is right here, willing to let you make him feel good. Willing to let you feel these things again, willing to make you feel good if you work up the courage to ask for it. And most of all, he’s staying.

“Stand up then.” You whisper in a smile. “I’ll take care of you, so don’t run back home to do it yourself anymore.”

Jake shakes his head with a smirk, happy to get what he not only wants at this moment, but what he so desperately needs.

“I did that for you, and look where it got me.” He says, standing and staring down at you. “Nothing will ever satisfy me, only you can.”

You chuckle shyly, reaching up to fumble with his button only to have him take over for you, dropping his pants and gripping himself.

“Don’t be so sure though.” You swallow around a lump in your throat at the size of him, proving why you were always able to feel it and not quite ignore it. “I don’t have a lot of practice with this.”

Oh, could you be any more perfect? Any more fucking endearing? With those pretty eyes staring down what he wants to put in you so bad, not even knowing how he’s only ever gotten this hard for you and you alone. Fuck, he could give it to you so good, he could fill you until you can’t breathe, he could keep you forever.

You look so pretty like this, with your lips trembling as you wet them, with the way your smaller hands swat him away as if to ask him to let you try and hold it yourself.

He could shoot his load right now if you asked him to, looking so fucking docile on the floor for him. He needs to look away, he needs to prepare for this.

“I don’t know if I can, um,” You start, gripping him and noting that he’s thick, there’s no way it will all fit in your mouth without absolutely suffocating you. “Jake, I genuinely don’t know if I can fit all of it.”

He lends you a short chuckle as he takes in a breath, his fingers going down to tip your chin up at him. You feel it pulse in your hand as he looks at you, almost feeling his quickened heartbeat through the vein that runs up the underside of it.

“Love, I don’t need it to fit.” He smiles, pressing it harder into your palm. “Even this is enough right now.” He lies, pressing his hips forward as if to show you that he’s lying.

He needs it to fit so bad.

You eye him down, feeling the twitch release a little dribble of precum that rolls down and onto your circled fist. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at another person this way, wanting to taste it, almost needing to.

Rubbing your legs together, almost uncomfortably, you swallow again as you keep your eyes trained on his before glancing back down. You pull your hands back just to see the way it drops. God, it’s so heavy. You can imagine he’s full of resentment for how long it’s taken you to simply look at it. His cock rages at you, darkened in color and glistening in the light of the setting sun through the window.

All you can do is stare.

And all Jake can do is stare too, watching you do math in your head of what you need to do with him. He’d take anything, fucking anything, from you right now.

“Mm,” Jake hums for a moment, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tighter. “Like this.” He instructs.

“I know how to give a hand job, you know.” You roll your eyes playfully, despite totally forgetting how to do it now that, you know, you want to.

“Yeah, don’t tell me that.” He warns, annoyed that you’d even say that right now. “Just, grip me harder–” He closes his eyes, pretending that you’ve never touched a cock that wasn’t his own, noting how your hands have always been gentle with him, save for that day you dragged him around by the shirt in a kiss.

You listen, trying to grip the girth of it as tightly as you can while dragging your hand forward and back, forcing little grunts out of him.

“Yeah,baby–” he encourages you, “Just like that.” He continues to lose himself to the feeling in soft moans, blinking down and now moving his hips in your grasp, fucking forward a bit harder. “Use your other hand too..”

You listen intently, never having to use both hands on a man like this before. You try to squeeze him, offering as much pressure as you can as he swivels his hips forward and back, slicking your hands up nice and wet with his precum. Unbelievable how much he has, actually.

You look up when he lolls his head back in a drawn out moan, staring at the expanse of his neck and the way it tenses when he swallows around the same moan. And then, suddenly, in a split second he hangs his head back down and looks at you as if he can see everything you are, everything you ever have been, and everything you ever could be. You gasp at his expression, feeling totally lost and in awe when you see that gaze go dead as he stares back.

His lips fall slack when his hips pick up pace, essentially fucking your fists rather than letting you do the work. And when you glance away from him, tuning in to the consistent pre-cum spilling out of him, he sees you lick your lips.

He watches, he sees you want it.

So, very gently, he places one of his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to do it. And it’s like he can taste colors when you let him and instantly wrap your lips around the big, swollen head of his leaking length.

The half-moan-half-amazed-chuckle that falls out of him only comes from the fact that you instantly stretch your lips around it, lapping at his tip in an almost hungry way.

“God, fuck–” He keeps his head hanging forward, watching intently as you take him further and further into your mouth, up until you release one hand and grasp his thigh to hold onto. “I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits, shocked that you’re really going to do this for him.

You blink up at him, trying to smile around the heavy length pressing your tongue down. If you’re going to do this, the least you can do is make sure he fucking loves it. Not to mention, the fact that you’re also enjoying it only drives you to do more. Like the wall inside of you has been shattered and nothing could ever stop you from wanting him in any and every way possible.

He smiles through a deep groan at the way your lips still curl around him.

Never in his fucking life did he imagine you smiling while sliding his cock down your throat. Really, you did that entirely on your own and somehow, he feels even more insane than he did walking into your apartment earlier.

You’re making it fit, and all he can do is help you, now bracing that same hand on your head and pressing further into your mouth..

More, more.

And when he feels your fingernails dig into his thigh and his cock hit the back of your gagging throat, he chokes out, eyes tearing up, and he sobs out your name in a desperate attempt to compliment you for it.

That sound alone from him went straight through you, igniting a long awaited arousal within your belly. You feel the drip, relishing in the feeling of being wet for the first time in fucking years. He’s so big, and he’s so suffocating. You want to do this, you want to hear him cry out your name again.

Even when he tries to pull his hips back, you grab onto him and hold his hips in place, pushing your lips further down, depressing your tongue even more as the thickest part of him cuts off your airways. Your throat restricts around him, and you feel proud of it. Proud of choking on him, happy to keep doing it.

He stutters in awe, gripping the windowsill with his free hand and using the other to feel your hollowed out cheeks. Shit, you’re going to taste him, he’s going to give you all of it, he’s going to–

Shocked, floored, entirely drunk for you, all he can do is watch as you choke. His body did not warn him at all when his cum shoots into your throat, warming your belly with that first swallow around him.

Your reaction to it is immediate though, as he watches with half-crossed eyes the way you pull off of him and let his cum spurt out and drip all over your face. Down those beautiful cheeks, onto your plush lips, and down your neck.

It won't stop. He just keeps coming. His entire body trembles as he stares at you, and you stare back before closing one eye due to the fact that there is now cum in your eyelashes, and you fucking smile at him.

The image alone keeps him hard as his body finally stops twitching. You, there on your knees, smiling up at him drenched in him.

“Baby,” He soothes out with a raspy tone. “Fuck, you didn’t have to do–”

“I’m wet. Jake.” You smile, as if you’re admitting this to him to gain some sort of congratulations for it. And in a way, you are. He has no idea how amazing it is to you right now that you can feel your panties go sticky. It feels amazing to admit to him, actually.

It’s so relieving, it’s so warm, it’s something you never should have missed out on in the first place.

“What?” He asks with uneven breath, dropping to his knees in front of you again, rubbing the cum into your skin with his thumb as he caresses your face. “You are?”

You beam at him, smiling with a nod.

“Really?” He asks again, in disbelief because this was all it took?

You nod again, leaning back on your arms and watching him follow, hovering over you and slotting himself between your legs with a hungry gaze.

“Can I feel?” He asks abruptly, crawling over you to the point that your back hits the side table behind you, keeping you from lying all the way down.

And you nod before you think about it. Wondering if this is how it’s always supposed to be. Always willing, always wanting, always needing.

He stares at you when you nod, glancing down to your middle then back at you as if to gain another confirmation.

You nod again, this time wanting to hide your face in your arms. You anticipate it, wondering what it’ll feel like to be touched there again by a hand that isn’t your own after all this time. And when you feel his shaking hand dip into your sweat pants, you don’t even shutter. You don’t shy away.

You’re surprising yourself even, letting out a gasp when he cups your core and looks down at you with a cautious smile.

“You’re dripping, baby.” He smiles as he balances himself on one arm over you, rubbing his hand back and forth and memorizing the dips and folds he can feel through this flimsy fabric. Then, his more intrusive thoughts spill in an unintentional and needy groan. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”

Words that would make you recoil are no longer scaring you. You can tell he wants to apologize for saying it too, but goddamn, you loved hearing it. In fact, your entire body pulses at the words, feeling his hand do nothing more than hold you there and gently rub. His eyes are pleading though, with his lips pouting as he relishes in thoughts of probably fucking his fingers into you just to see if he’s right.

Or maybe it’s just you hoping that’s what he’s thinking about. You can’t help the way you clench, letting out a strained breath as you lurch forward and hug him around his neck, squeezing so tightly as you whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You can touch me– if you want.” You whisper, physically feeling the goosebumps against his neck raise to your lips. “Just go slow.”

You still need to go slow, after all, you don’t know how your brain may react to this, despite loving it at the moment. Relishing in the fact that someone managed to make you feel horny again. You feared that you never could again. God, he’s amazing.

“I’ll go so slow for you,” He whispers back, twisting his hand in your pants to hook his fingers around your panties to pull them to the side. “Oh, baby, you really do want this, don’t you?” He whispers again upon really feeling you drip, trying to slide his fingers through the slick mess before rubbing circles around your hole. He’s lost his train of thought now, only able to feel one sense at a time so that he can fucking memorize how you coat his fingers entirely.

He moans again from deep in his chest along with you, despite knowing you’re the only one feeling the pleasure of his fingers. You feel his moan vibrate through his throat when you kiss him there, anticipating what it’s going to feel like when he slides a finger in.

And it’s like you see stars when he does, slowly pressing one into you as he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you in place, sitting back on his knees and forcing you to stand on your own infront of him.

There he holds you as if he’s afraid you’ll start to fight, relishing the feeling of your wet walls hugging his finger all while you cling to him through it. He was right, you are tight despite how wet you’ve gotten. It’s almost like you’re a virgin despite knowing that you’re not.

Your body is reacting this way for him, and you’re hugging him, and your pussy is clenching for him. He just knows that if he manages to fit his cock into you, he’d fucking lose it. You’d squeeze him so tight, and he’d fuck it so deep. Fill you up, deeper, deeper, until the only name you know is his.

He’s losing it again, hearing your little whispered moans against his ear, hanging on him like a fucking pet, god, he wants you to squeeze the fucking blood out of him. You’re being so compliant, so submissive, so–

“Do you even know…” He starts babbling, trying to silence his thoughts by giving them straight to you as his finger slides out, eagerly shoving two back in at a much quicker, much harsher pace. “How much I’ve dreamed about this?”

You shake your head noting how he’s already mentioned dreaming of you once. The thought has you spreading your legs out to feel how deep his fingers reach inside of you. There’s no pain involved in this, despite his pace not being nearly as slow as he said he would go. You’re not upset, you want him to go faster, you want him deeper, you want to hear him talk.

“So many times, baby, so many times.” He soothes himself more than you through these words, losing himself more and more each second to the feeling of your core clenching his fingers. “You’re even prettier to me right now,” He continues to babble, listening to you hum in his ear at the pleasure you feel. “I want you to take everything from me.”

“I want you to wrap your legs around my neck, I want you to rub my nose in it, I want you to suffocate me, I want—”

“Shit, Jake.” You moan out his name for the first time at the dirty words. They’re a lot to take in only because you know it truly is a lot, or rather, it should be. But you fucking want that too. You want everything from him, you want everything he wants. Everything. “What else?” You urge him to keep talking.

“I want you to pull my hair,” He says, instantly feeling your fingers slide up his neck and into the thick of it, tugging immediately. “I want you to make it fit here too.” He continues, curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting his own hips against the dense air in your apartment.

You moan again at his hot words. You’re overwhelmed by how much you want more, how much you’d let him, right here, right now.

“Keep going,” You sing out, feeling it in your stomach and knowing that this familiar feeling is so much better than you’ve ever felt before. “Tell me, Jakey, fuck–” You continue, huffing at the way his fingers quicken even more.

“Sound so pretty saying my name, fuck,” He groans now, more level than before as he feels your legs close around his arm, fingers relentlessly hitting the soft spot inside of you. “Tell me that I’d never hurt you, that only I can make you feel like this.”

You nod aggressively as your brain hits a wall, unable to fulfill his request. Every muscle in your body tenses in pleasure as you begin to shake, moving your own hips against his fingers and tugging his hair harder without intention.

He moans out at how tight you hold him, wanting nothing more than to lay you out and bury himself into you, to feel your pussy jerk him off.

“Feels so good, baby, right?” He continues to talk, feeling your tight walls try to push his fingers out with each threat of your build up, his mind is spinning. “Say it–” He stutters, feeling his own body react the same way yours is. “Fuck, please, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You whisper out of breath against his ear, the hot breath sending him overboard as he immediately pulls his fingers from you and grips his cock instead, ignoring your whimper of the lost build up.

“Yeah,” He cries out, thrusting his hips against his hand. “So let me– please, please let me.”

His face looks so broken when you stare at him in shock, eyes pleading for you to give him all of it. To give him everything right now. How could you fucking say no to that expression? How could you ever say no to him?

And still, with your orgasm half-fulfilled, you’re entirely enamored with the way you instantly want it too. As if you’re rushing head first into a brick wall with him, and you stop just to think for a moment.

Should you?

Do you intend to keep this man forever? Do you want him to leave? Would you be able to picture a day without him?

It confirms in your brain right then and there. You do intend to keep him. You don’t want him to leave. You could never picture a day without him at this point.

If he wants to have sex with you right now? Why not? You’re sure that if he is truly wanting to stay, sooner or later you’ll feel him pumping inside of you. Why should it matter that it happens now rather than tomorrow? Or next week? Or even next month?

Instantly upon your snap decision, you stand on shaking legs, watching him watch you. His hand gripping himself harshly to prevent a pathetic and untouched orgasm, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

You smile, dropping your pants, panties, and then lifting your shirt right up and over your head. All he does in response is wince, grip the base of his cock harder, and try to focus on not spilling and wasting his cum on your floor. Brain only slightly trying to distract him with the idea of grabbing those sticky panties to suck them clean.

“Really?” He chokes, out of breath and standing up, swiping your panties up quickly and crumpling them in his hand.

Then, you feel one hand on you after he drops his length, and the other rubbing those same wet panties against your skin, as if he has a death grip on them and you. Still, he walks you right back to the window and against it, speaking in that same, needy and shaking breath. “Baby, are you sure?”

You look away, feeling vulnerable and shy but so willing, so ready when you nod and throw your leg around his waist as if to tell him that you’re more than sure.

He gives you a breathy chuckle, pulling back just to lift his shirt off of him, hang your panties at the base of his cock, and then he grabs your leg and holds it in place. “Right here?”

He can’t tell if he’s even alive right now, with your pussy sitting spread open right up against him as you let him hold you here, your ass is probably looking great for the camera right now. Your panties feel so good in their rightful place, dangling just in front of his balls. You feel so good in your rightful place, right up against the wall with him trapping you here.

You nod again, pressing your hips forward, proving to him how hungry you feel for him right now. Finally feeling dirty and not hating yourself for it.

“Right here.” You confirm, tuned into his lips and leaning forward to lick against them. “That’s what you want, right?”

He’s stunned by how you take control while still being somehow submissive to him about it. Almost like you’re shaming him for wanting it, almost like you don’t want to admit that you want it too.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, trying hard not to think about how you’ve shifted entirely within the span of however long it’s been since the two of you started this. Is this how you act when you're horny?

“How could I not?” You confirm again with a confident tone, watching your boyfriend break in front of you. “Look at you.”

Jake can’t bear to look at himself, he knows he looks just about as pathetic as he’s always wanted. Never quite able to feel pathetic enough to satisfy him, only now understanding why he chased and chased the feeling to have you like this.

Controlling whether he can stick his dick in you, controlling whether he can fuck off and die.

That’s how it’s supposed to be in a relationship, but somehow it’s something else between both of you. For him, it’s like you’ve intentionally edged him for an entire week and for you it’s like you finally have control over your own sexuality again.

You feel powerful, and Jake wants to be entirely at your mercy.

“No one has ever wanted me this bad and waited.” You finally say to his intense and loving stare. “I want to give you anything you want.”

If he had a tail, it would be wagging so fast right now. It’s like he’s being given a treat for being exactly who you needed him to be, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it.

“I could wait longer,” Jake mumbles, inching his lips to yours and letting his other hand cup one of your tits. “You could make me suffer,” He continues, whispering it right into your mouth. “Could lock me up and starve me of it.”

You lean your face back, a little shocked at his choice of words there.

“So you meant those things you said earlier?” You ask, remembering how he babbled on about wanting you to suffocate him, about how he wanted you to take everything from him.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He counters, now pressing his hips forward and letting his cock weep against your thigh.

You nod to him.

“I want you to take it all out on me.” He admits, gripping your tit in his hand tighter, hiking your leg up higher. “I want you to control every aspect of my life.”

Honestly, it shouldn’t be a thought that brightens your brain but it does. It sounds toxic, and you can’t even tell if he’s saying this just because he’s horny and is about two seconds from slamming you up and against this window with the force of his cock alone. Somehow, you love the thought of all of it.

“Every aspect?” You ask with interest. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles as he hangs his head, watching his length pulse constantly against your thigh and the panties hanging off of it. Only then does he release your tit and use your panties as a way to position his cock up, lining up with the wet of your core that is only for him.

“It means–” He starts, sliding into you with a paused moan, hiccuping slightly as he furrows his brows. “I want you to make me cry for you.” He continues with a tilt to his head as he watches the way you wince at all of the strength he has to hold you up like this, to slide into you like this. “I want you to hurt me, and I want you to love doing it.”

He bottoms out after that, holding you in place and feeling your walls struggle to adjust to the tight fit.

“It’s what you deserve.” He soothes out to you, kissing you once. “To take someone the same way you’ve been taken.”

You recoil instantly, pussy restricting in horror at the reminder of why you never do this with another person, but god the way he lifts on his toes just to plunge somehow deeper into you. The way his lips trap you even more, the way his force is nothing but fucking amazing to feel. All you can do is moan, bump your head against the window, and squeeze him.

“You said you wanted to give me what I want–” He slides out of you just a little bit. “So, can you?” He pushes back in, listening to you get wetter at his words and feeling your answer when you can’t seem to speak for yourself.

“I said I’d never hurt you, love,” He coos out this time, watching your body shift up against the window as he picks up some sort of rhythm, taking you the way he’s always wanted you. Right here, against the window. “But I never said that you couldn’t hurt me.”

Why the fuck is that so hot? God, why does a man like Jake offer you so much? Why is he doing this to you? Why is he doing it to himself? Why do you love it?

You find yourself nodding as you moan out, still not quite adjusted to his size and the way he made it fit into you in such a…pleasurable way. It doesn’t hurt at all, it feels good.

“Yeah, I knew you would.” He continues to talk as if he’s not internally losing it, but months worth of pretending, several orgasms today alone, and having your pussy hugging him just as tightly as he knew it would? That’s helpful.

And now, as your fingers grip at him through his harsh and deep thrusts, all he can do is hold your leg against him, lean forward, and stare directly into his apartment window. As if he’s mocking his former self, as if everything in the world has fallen into place. You wouldn’t leave him now, never, you’d be just as stupid as everyone else if that were the case.

He has faith in you, in himself, in this, and the way you drip all over him.

He knew you’d be perfect for him.

It doesn’t take long, really, for him to pull an orgasm out of you when he’s doing it this good. In fact, you don’t even have to reach a hand down to help pull it out of you by the time your body begins to stiffen up at it.

His pace is slow, his cock is deep, and fuck his entire body is on you. You couldn’t squeeze your hand down if you tried, in fact, you don’t think he’d even consider letting you do any of this on your own.

His grip is so strong, you can feel your sweat stick to the window as you slam your head down on his shoulder, sliding up and down the window with each of his powerful thrusts.

It feels so good to do this again.

“Jake–” You hiccup against his neck, listening to his heaved and choked breaths through each thrust. “I wish I had done this sooner.” You manage to get out, body tensing and relaxing by the minute with the threat of an orgasm. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

And honestly, you don’t know what’s gotten into you, nor do you fucking care. If you want to cry, you’ll fucking cry. It’s been too long since your tears hit you out of pleasure, or happiness, or fucking safety. At this rate, you’ll never let this man go.

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you, arms shaking as he holds you up and thrusting in as deep as he can go.

You feel him stutter in his pace, his hips stopping as you feel his heavy cock pulsate against your clenching walls.

“Are you close?” He says, pulling back and looking at you. “Is that why you’re sorry?”

You look at him with glassy eyes, smiling dazed at him as you shake your head.

“No,” You smile wider, running your hands up and into his hair, remembering what he asked for before. You tug, forcing his head to tilt back so that you can attach your lips to him. “I’m saying it because I want you to always make me feel this good.” You whisper against his pulse point, kissing it hard.

You feel him lose composure at that, his hips immediately moving again, slamming up and into you so hard that you can’t even hold your head still enough to kiss him there again.

“Ah, fuck,” He whimpers out, “why would you fucking say that to me right now?” He continues, relentlessly fucking himself against the soft and sensitive spot inside of you. “You still make me feel so insane, only you could do this to me.”

You smile, having learned that he appears to love the torture anyway.

“You love it though, don’t you Jakey?” You say, loving the way he loses it for you, learning how badly he’s wanted this, seeing him intend to stay.

And at those words, he can’t take it anymore. Fuck the camera, fuck anything else in the world that isn’t you. He ignores that wince on your face when he slips out of you, ignores the way the panties fall from his length, and focuses entirely on the way you hug him as he carries you straight to the couch.

Right there, he drops you and watches the way your tits bounce at the motion.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” He says, feeling the arousal run through his veins, knowing you’d love to hear him say that while never knowing just how true it is. “How are you real?”

You smile, hiding your face as you feel his hands hold your thighs open. You know what he’s looking at, and you can’t force yourself to see him do it. Solely because you know it’s going to swell your heart so big that you’d only fear the day he wants to leave it empty.

And you don’t respond either, because you can’t. His fingers are spreading you open and you can hear him drop to his knees yet again for you. You wan’t to look so bad, but still, you fear the love in his eyes.

You fear and want all of it.

He hears the sharp inhale you give when he spreads you out, really inspecting the single spot on your body that no one on this earth should ever see aside from him.

“This is where it hurt the most, isn’t it?” He asks, staring into the hole he’s already fucked, watching it beg him for more despite his words that probably stab your soul.

You’ll never understand how he can take your pain and turn it into something you don’t mind hearing though. Yes, that’s where it hurt the most, and still, that’s where you want him the most.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks again, reaching an arm up and forcing you to look at him. “This is what you were so afraid of?” He continues, dipping down and rubbing his face directly into the folds and inhaling a deep breath.

“Y-yeah.” You choke out at the feeling, in awe of how you knew his eyes would make you terrified. He still stares up at you as he does it, pointing his glare straight through you and into your fucking spirit.

Only Jake can make you fear nothing else in this world aside from the thought of losing him.

“I’ll make it better,” He says, boosting his ego at the way your legs wrap around his head. “You’ll always want me here,” He continues, cooing out with each taste and lick of your budding arousal. “You’ll never want me to stop–”

No man has ever wanted you this bad while having you, even as you experienced the trauma of just that. Your ex wanted you physically, but something about the man drying to drown himself in your pussy right now makes you feel like he wants you on a level far deeper than what’s possible.

He’s eating you out like he wants to eat you whole. Like he could devour you, and never spit you out of his mouth.

“Shit, shit–” You moan, hands shooting down to his hair yet again, finding yourself loving the way his grown-out roots feel softer than the harsher dyed section of his hair. You tug harder than you have before, feeling his tongue search and yearn for everything you have to offer him.

“Mhm.” He mumbles with a mouth full of pussy, rolling his eyes back at how you do just as he suggested before. Rubbing his nose in it, letting him continue to lose himself in the point of all of his problems.

And it’s as if you forgot that this only happens to reach a point of coming. The experience alone feels like one long and drawn out orgasm already, it doesn’t take anything at all for him to get you there.

It’s like he already knows it too, because you go entirely silent with a held breath as he holds your hips and buries his tongue deep inside of you. He wants to feel it, he wants to taste it. And he suffers for it, really, neglecting his own cock and knowing he’s going to come through this alone anyway.

As expected, he does. Upon the first gush of your slick hitting his tongue, his cock pulses, his balls squeeze up, and he can feel it shoot out of him each time your pussy shakes against his suffocated mouth.

And your hands, so perfect in his hair, pulling without even knowing. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, this is more than he could have ever asked for.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By this point in your relationship, the two of you have moved so quickly that it doesn’t even scare you. In fact, if it slowed down at any point, you’d probably be preparing a suicide note simply because you don’t want to be in this world without Jake.

Since the first time you got intimate with him, it’s like it hasn’t stopped. You’re shocked at his thirst for you and even more shocked that someone so fucking perfect would waste his breath on you even for this long.

It hasn’t been that long, really, since the first time you touched him. A few days at most, but it’s like that moment solidified a lot for the two of you.

One, he’s not going to be sleeping in his own bed anytime soon or, ever, really. Two, you’ve learned through at least two more sessions of Jake’s mouth on you that he really does want you to live up to his requests. He makes it known how badly he wants you to make him suffer, how badly he needs you to give him everything he wants. Thankfully, he’s patient with your reluctance. And Three, your ex is no longer a threat.

Each message you receive, you just hand your phone to Jake and he takes care of it.

It doesn’t even translate in your head that you’ve been barred from answering your mother’s calls until the police show up at your door for a wellness check. Where, of course, Jake answers,

“Yeah, she’s here.” You hear his voice as you lay flat against your bed, heaving breaths as if he didn’t just have the tip of his dick in you. “Why?” You hear him question.

A few more muffled words and you hear the door close and his footsteps making his way to your room.

“Cops.” He dead-pans, “Your mom thinks you're dead.” he adds with an eye roll.

Your internal panic, a feeling you had once been so accustomed to that now feels almost foreign, takes over your body.

“Fuck, my mom!” You say in a fast breath, rushing onto your feet and throwing on a pair of his soiled sweatpants.

Jake hangs back but listens to your conversation from your hallway, listening intently to how you speak to other men, cops or not.

“Yeah,” You say, scratching your temple with shame. “I guess I didn’t realize she was calling me so much.”

Try five times a day.

“I’ll call her now, sorry for wasting your time.” You continue with that nervous chuckle that you used to use on him during your dates.

And then you’re back in the room, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Why didn’t you tell me my mom has been calling?” You ask, a little annoyed that it’s gotten to the point of freaking your mother out.

Jake shrugs, then looks at you apologetically.

“I don’t like when she forces you to talk about it.” He finally says, sulking his shoulders and huffing out. “I don’t like that she tells you to be careful around me.”

You roll your eyes, relieved that he’s just being himself and wanting to keep you happy.

“Still, you should have told me. She’s going to have a fucking heart attack thinking he showed up at my work place again.”

Jake’s entire brain stops working, his body going rigid as if the cold air outside is hitting him in full force.

Your eyes immediately widen as you slam your hand over your mouth. Fuck, you forgot that you told her in a hushed tone, explaining that it’s okay. That Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Fuck.

“He what?” Jake says, dumbfounded at the slip of your words.

“Jake, wait–” You try to get an explanation but he’s not having it.

“You haven’t been at work, what do you mean he showed up?” He glares, chest heaving as his heart rate picks up.

“It was from that day when you first stayed over,” You look at the floor apologetically. “I didn’t want to talk about it…” You trail off, feeling his energy hit you in the face at how he’s completely shifted from that loving, soft boyfriend you’re so used to.

“You kept that from me!?” He seethes out in disbelief. This whole time he thought he fucked your ex up enough to prove what would happen if he even fucking tried it. By you explaining that it happened just after Jake found him, that’s a direct insult.

A threat.

A fucking death wish.

“I didn’t–” You stutter trying to explain yourself. “I didn’t think it would matter since you were here. You were keeping me safe.”

“You lied to me?” He continues interrogating you, coming up to you and practically demanding an answer through his eyes.

You look away, nodding.

“You said you wanted me to keep you safe, what would have happened if you had to go to work again?” He drones on and on, seemingly stuck on the fact that you didn’t tell him. “What would happen if they called you to go in today?”

Already you’re starting to cry, feeling stupid for not making a bigger deal out of it. To be fair, not talking about it helped and you did intend to tell him at some point. That just…never happened.

“I would have asked you to stay with me at work.” You say, feeling numb as the fear of losing the man in front of you steals your every thought. “I’d have not gone. I’d have quit. I don’t know!”

Jake backs down at your words, only able to soften his rage if you’re the one who causes it.

“Baby,” His soft voice shocks you when you feel him come back to himself, as if to comfort the fear he just instilled in you. “I’m not mad.”

Yes he is, you know he is.

“Now you’re the one lying.” You argue, pushing him away only to feel his grip on you tighten.

“Am I?” He asks, urging you to keep talking. “Are you mad at me now?” He continues, intentionally pushing your buttons.

“Mad that I should have already known?”

“Mad that I didn’t let you talk to your mom?”

“Mad that I’m keeping you safe, while you keep putting yourself in the position to be hurt by him again?”

You stare at the floor.

“Mad that this is your fault?”

Yeah, you are mad.

“Fuck you, Jake.” You break, feeling his strangling fingers on your skin scratch and leave welts when you force yourself away from him. “Fuck you for all of that.”

“What else?” He presses, hanging on specific words. “Fuck me for what else?”

You just stare at him, and he can see the anger in your eyes.

“For not being there when it happened?” He asks gently. “For not killing him when I had the chance?”

When he had the chance.

“What do you–” You try to ask, but he just continues, closing back in on you.

Somehow, you need it, despite wanting to pull away every time.

“Fuck me for wanting this from you, right?” He says, much closer to you and dipping down to kiss you. “Fuck me for wanting you to be this mad, hmm?”

You break again, something deep within you spiraling into a different type of insanity you’ve never felt. You don’t feel trauma, you don’t feel scared, you feel…enraged.

“Fuck me for thinking you look perfect,” He whispers against your lips. “Fuck me to fuck me, fuck me to fight me, fuck me.”

The repeated words fit into your brain like they belong there. Like this anger is supposed to be filling you with pleasure rather than dread. Like you’re supposed to feel just as in love as you are mad.

“Just fuck me, baby.”

And god fucking dammit. How does he crawl into the depths of your brain, like a fucking roach, and kiss all of the areas you don’t know exist? How the fuck does he wake shit up inside of you that you never dreamed of having, or feeling, or wanting.

“I hate you.” You say, and meaning it too.

Because you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone more than you do now.

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He smiles, dipping his hand down into the sweats you put on and sliding into the same slick he had spilling out of you just before the pigs showed up. “I love it.” He chuckles against your lips when you refuse to moan at his touch.

You’re pushing against every good feeling inside of you right now, thinking only of how this rage spills out of you and against his fingers.

“So wet to hate me–” He says, pressing and pressing and pressing for you to just fucking– “Hit me.”

He sees your eyes shine at the very thought of how badly you must want to do that, unknowing of how much he wants it too. Needing it almost.

And oh, the moan he lets out when your weak hands raise to shove him back. He plays off of it, stumbling back to your bed just to fall on it. Waiting, knowing you’ll come take him for all he’s worth.

“Come on, love.” He encourages you. “Make me sorry.”

You hate him, and you hate that you love it. Love that he loves it, fucking adore that he wants this, he wants to let you do whatever you want to him.

To kick, cry, scream, release everything that’s been trapped in your head for years.

You don’t even falter, feeling it bubble up and overtake every thought. Dripping down your legs as if this is the only way you could ever fulfill your own pleasure again. Only now to you slide the pants back off of you, so horny out of your mind that all you can manage is to feel these emotions drip for him.

He watches you straddle him bare from the waist down, sees your breath shaking, and your lips quivering.

Jake knew you had it in you.

“Take them off.” You demand, rolling your eyes at the way he looks up at you with pure bliss.

“Hit me first.” He offers, feeling his cock strained against his own pants that he haphazardly threw on when he heard the knock at your door. “Hit me, and I’ll fuck the hate out of you.” He lies.

“Take them off.” You repeat, cold hands reaching down as you do it yourself, lifting just enough to shove them down far enough.

And god, the breath is knocked clean out of him with the way you just take him. You slide down perfectly, bottoming him out in one motion. He can see now that you need this perhaps even more than he does.

“God, come on baby.” He moans, feeling you just sit still on him.

“Jake,” You warn, running your cold hands up to his neck on instinct. “Shut up.” You squeeze.

The smile that forms on his face is pornographic at best, and drunk at worst. You see him love every instant of it, and you don’t want to admit that you do too.

You didn’t know it would feel so good to have a man’s neck in your hands, squeezing it just to shut him up. Releasing it just to hear him gasp out a praise.

“So good,” He praises, eyebrows knitted together as he loses himself to the way your pussy chokes his length. You’re not even fucking him, you’re just– “So perfect.” He continues, nearly wailing out at the immense love he feels inside.

And then, you do. You hit him. Power hungry and entirely at a loss for your own pleasure, you land a harsh and loud slap right against his face, only for him to moan louder.

Only for him to fuck up.

Only for him to grip your sheets so tight that you hear a rip.

Again. You slap him, feeling your anger slowly fizzle with each frantic moan he gives back.

Again, and again.

“Shit, you love that, don’t you?” He manages to say, feeling his cheeks sting with red-hot passion, only to be hit again, and again. “God, make it hurt.”

At this point, you know that you could never give him enough as the rage leaves your body entirely and it’s replaced with nothing but the need to just….fuck him. Never in your life have you ever been blinded by a need so badly, save for safety.

And you have that now, don’t you? You have Jake now, right where you want him, right he wants to be. He wants you to feel this, he made you feel this.

The first bounce felt like pure agony, slamming his cock into you by your own force, feeling him stretch you open, hearing it slap and echo against the walls.

“Make it hurt?” You finally say, pinching his cheeks together and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t think I could hurt you enough if I tried.” You admit, quite truthfully, mind you.

Jake gives you a crooked smirk.

“Try it anyway.” He coos, feeling the way you repeatedly arch your back just to ride him faster. “Could fill you up, right here, right now, flip you over and make you take it if you’re so worried that you can’t.”

It runs through you like a cold shiver. You don’t want to give up this power, you want to try.

“That’s big talk for someone asking to be choked right now.” You dead-pan at him, voice even and calm. You continue to move your hips, listening to his repeated moans with each breath. “So loud and needy for it too.”

Jake nods proudly and drunkenly, reaching his hands out to yours and forcing them back on his neck.

“I could be needier.” He says, pressing your hands against his airways.

You take over for him, choking his remaining words out of him and forcing him to moan.

“You said you’d make me take it?” You seethe out through your own pained moan, riding him so hard that you feel sensitive. “Like you think it would hurt me?”

He shakes his head rapidly, implying that you’re wrong to think that. Wanting to tell you that if he made you take it, you’d love every second of it. You wouldn’t tell him no.

“After promising you never would, Jake?” You question still, knowing he can’t answer. You squeeze harder as you watch his face darken, the blood rushing to burst in the whites of his eyes. “Is that it? You want to hurt me so that I hurt you back?”

He nods in a daze, wanting nothing more than to die like this now, or some other day. To hear your voice, feel your hands, and know that you’re fucking him through it.

“You don’t scare me.” You finally say, releasing the grasp and listening to the sharp inhale he takes in. “As much as I wish you did, you don’t.”

That’s all it takes really, knowing that he could work you like a puppet and you’d still love him. Why else would you say that? You wouldn’t fuck him like this if you didn’t mean it. Your mother long forgotten, the anger gone, it’s just a raw form of you and him right now.

Everything you’re saying is more truthful than he ever thinks you’ve been with him.

“Want me to?” He finally asks with a wet gasp as he continues to catch his breath. “I bet I could.”

“You can’t.” You say, now slowing your hips as your legs tire out, bracing yourself on his shoulders to take a breath.

“I can.” He says, immediately overpowering you. He sits up quick, flipping you right over and onto your back. “I can make you feel anything I want.” He whispers darkly to you. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, lost entirely from this reality. “Anything you want.”

You just stare up at him, willing to accept his words even more when he slams his length into you, so deep that you feel nothing but the pain of it.

For the first time, he’s hurting you through pleasure alone.

“Could make you love it too,” He continues to dote on himself as he watches the sparkle in your eye dim. “You love it already, don’t you?”

“I’m not afraid.” You manage to mutter out through a guttural groan, wincing at the way he drives himself into you at such a speed that all you feel is pain.

“I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.” He chuckles, feeling entirely in control of whatever entity is running his body right now. “I see you baby, you’re terrified to lose me.”

Your eyes die in that moment, because out of anything in this world, he’s pinpointed your biggest fear.

“So pretty when you’re scared too,” He hums out, not relenting at all with the force of his hips when he lets your legs fall around him, and he finds himself burying his face between your tits. “Maybe I should threaten to leave you.”

Instantly, you cry.

“Just so I can eat up these little tears you have for me.”

You wish he would shut up.

“So I can taste the way you come on me, and feel your pussy try and lock me here.” He smooths over your nipple at the words, slowing his hips and pulling out just to the tip. “Your body tells me more than you know, love.”

Your eyes roll up when his pointed thrust shoves your body across your sheets, your hands reach for his shoulders, clawing for any sense of normality to this moment.

“So quiet.” He lightens his own voice now, letting it fall against your collarbone in a tone just above a whisper. “So stubborn.”

Your mind awakens at the insult, hoping he’s right.

“To think I’d ever leave you.” He smiles, lifting up to meet your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He tastes your tears and it’s just enough for him to forgive you.

To forgive you for not hitting him enough, for not choking him until he died. To forgive you for even thinking you’d need to talk to your mother, and for fucking lying to him.

And only now does he go quiet, fucking you will full intent now that he’s already in your head at every turn and corner. He can tell with the way you don’t even realize your previous orgasm.

With the way it bubbled out and down his balls, hugging his cock so tightly that all he could do was keep fucking with your mind, toying with threats only to silence them.

And then, you inhale a sob, and breathe out his name, so pretty to your ears, even more beautiful to his own.

“Don’t leave me.” You chime out, body numb and emotions threatening you into a panic attack.

“I’m right here, love.” He chuckles. “You’re shaking.”

You are. More than you can even comprehend, your body is shaking from feeling everything and nothing at once, all the way up until you do feel something.

“Ah, shit.” You cry out, hugging his body so tightly against you. “Right there–”

And Jake does it, angling his hips to repeatedly hit the spot inside of you. Knowing you’re sensitive, knowing you can take it, knowing that he can’t when he feels every drop in your body push him out of you.

Instantly he plunges back in, listening to the wet sounds of all that love you must have for him. He can barely move in this suffocating hug as your body shakes and quivers more than it ever has, even through your past traumas, even through the cold nights this city offers.

He has spent you and fucked you dry.

“There she is,” He echoes into your ear. “The girl of my dreams.”

The only energy left in you is enough to give him a smile before your tunnel vision fades into nothingness.

It feels calm in the darkness he gives you, and even calmer when you wake up feeling as if all of this was a dream.

It wasn’t though, because you can feel the way you’re still leaking all over your bed. Your own slick mixed with his, and you don’t even remember when or how he orgasmed because he certainly was taking his time before you initially fainted, but you’re glad he did. You think he is too, with the way he clings to you like a puppy, as if he didn’t just fuck reality straight out of you.

Lending you the gift of floating, and of pain you find yourself to love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up the next morning felt like you were a new person and you couldn’t be happier to see the saddest version of you die. The only fear you need to have is that Jake may some day choose to leave, and he said himself that he never would.

You trust him more than anyone, more than yourself even, considering he’s managed to force you into facing so many versions of yourself that you didn’t even know you had.

This is the first morning you’ve woken up without your skin crawling and you can’t help but shake him awake, destroying that blushed and sleeping face of his.

“Jake,” You shake him, feeling him stir instantly and lend you a crooked smile. “Wake up.”

You listen to his morning stretch as his body vibrates in a yawn, and then he’s nuzzling his face even further into your naked chest.

For what feels like hours, you find yourself engaging in pillow talk. Logging into work? Long forgotten. Calling your mother? Forgotten. The pain in your body? Ignored.

You tell him everything. Every detail of your life, your first memory, your first laugh and cry. All of the times your heart has been shattered, your least favorite colors and favorite words in the world. And he just…listens.

He nods, he smiles, he coos and kisses you throughout all of it.

And then–

“You know, a while back before we met, I came home and noticed some of my things were missing and messed with. I can’t help but feel like he’s known where I’ve been this whole time.”

Jake stiffens in your grasp before relaxing. It happened so fast that you don’t think anyone but you would have noticed it.

“Some of my panties were gone, and the batteries in my toys went missing weeks ago–not that it matters now or anything.” You continue, watching his face intently. “ At first I thought that maybe I was just forgetful but– now i know that it really was him.” You pause, smiling at him. “I’m just kind of waiting now, wondering if he’s ever going to try and do it again.”

“Do you want me to kill him?” Jake chuckles out as if to offer a funny little solution, one that he has genuinely considered more times than he can count. And he should have already, honestly.

You feel warmer at the way he makes jokes, but you know better than anyone that Jake jumps into action driven only by rage at times.

“He won’t come near you again, love, haven’t I proved that to you already?” He continues, imagining the blood of his man on his fists again. Imagining the way his bones would crack so beautifully.

You nod in an almost shy way to him.

“You’re safe with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around himself as you cradle him. “You’re safe with me.” He continues, repeating it more to himself because he feels as though he can’t fail you again, “You’ve always been safe.”

You haven’t believed words so deeply until you met him.

“He already fucking knows–” He whispers shortly, cutting himself off. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers a bit louder, uncaring if you heard that first slip of his words.

Something in your brain floods at those words. A confirmation that you’ve seen him break before, and it wasn’t your imagination. Your protective, loving, and sweet boyfriend has a side to him that you’ve yet to truly see. Those words were more believable than any of the sweet things he’s ever said to you.

And still, you almost want to encourage it, reminding yourself of the image of your ex the day he showed up, all bruised up. And then to the image of Jake with his own little battle scar.

Deep down you think you knew what happened.

And you still wonder how such a perfect man fell into your lap? Your bruised up, pain-loving boyfriend, breaking his soft persona and showing you a glimpse of something that feels….unnervingly beautiful to you.

Unsure, almost, you feel. As happy as you are that he lied to you, you try to not think of how Jake found your ex with nothing more than an out-of-context description of your abuse. You try not to think of the way he looked away from you when you mentioned the items in your apartment that went missing.

You try not to think about how close he lives to you, and how he always managed to show up when you couldn’t hang out.

How all of his interests matched your own, up until he never spoke about them again when he started staying with you.

How he only looks at you, how he only talks to you, and about you.

How he always knew what to say to you.

You try not to think about how you saw him toss his own laundry into your washer many nights ago, seeing a glimpse of what you thought could have been a pair of your own missing panties. Or how he always accidentally picked up your toothbrush rather than his own in the mornings.

You push those thoughts far into the back of your mind, knowing that you were just being paranoid, grasping to not trust a single person in this world as you fall into this life with him. Even if all of those instances were with purpose on his end, you know you’d simply accept them as normal. You’d accept him, you wouldn’t think twice.

Jake is your only safety. He would never do anything to harm you, he’s proved that.

You hold his head tighter against your chest, breathing out a sigh and accepting everything at face value, pushing back the slight doubt in your head that everything he has done for you, to you, and with you, isn’t normal.

“Did you tell him already?” You sigh out in a calmer tone, soothing him with your fingers in his hair. “That you’d kill him? Is that really why you had that bruise?”

Jake stiffens under your grasp briefly.

“What do you m–” He starts.

“I won’t ask how,” You cut him off. “But thank you.”

He relaxes, thumbs now rubbing hearts into your skin, stomach bubbling in butterflies.

“I did.” He now admits reluctantly, feeling dangerously close to a truth you don’t need to see or know about. “I couldn’t just let another person think that you still belong to them.”

You pause, then nuzzle closer to him.

“I knew from the first time I saw you that I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.” He continues, spilling and spilling. “I knew that you’d be mine.”

You try not to think too hard about it, asking out gently and instead choosing to just love him harder.

“When was the first time you saw me?”

Jake goes silent and tries to read the air in the room, sensing how relaxed you are against him.

“Eighteenth of October at the supermarket. We both made spaghetti for dinner that night.” He lies, never intending to admit that the first time he saw you was through your window. Never admitting that he actually already knew you by that eighteenth of October. That he followed you to the market.

He says it so confidently, and the fact that he’s right about what you cooked should scare you. The fact that you must have seen him that day too should make you feel unnerved.

You choose to ignore that too.

“Was your spaghetti good?” You ask, allowing yourself to spiral into the safety that he offers you. The image of your bruised ex boyfriend bringing joy to you, the idea of Jake keeping his promises making your stomach tingle with even brighter joy.

“No.” He admits with a chuckle. “Yours was probably better.”

“You really would kill him, wouldn’t you?”

Jake nods.

You trust him.

He’s not lying.

He would never lie to you.

Him knowing what you cooked that night is a coincidence. Him remembering the date and month is just him being mindful. Your lost panties must have gotten tangled in his laundry, surely. He found your ex because you probably let sensitive information slip without realizing it.

He met your mother and uncle by coincidence.

He’s the perfect man by chance, and you’re lucky to have him.

“I love you, you know.” You say, feeling him immediately shift away from your chest to look at you.

The look in his eye when he’s immediately getting on top of you, it’s still as if he’s about to wisp away with you in his arms to another realm. You’ve already been there before, and your body warms at the thought.

“What did you say?” He asks, voice shaking and somewhat far away from your own dissociated reality.

“I love you.” You say again, watching his lips quiver, and feeling his hands squeeze you.

He did it. He’s won.

And at the end of the day, you don’t think Jake could ever lose. After all, you’ve never felt so safe in a grasp as tight as this one, as painful as this one. You’ve never wanted a man to leave his fingerprints on you so bad.

As you look at him, seeing him lose himself from reality, you follow suit. Losing yourself with him, feeling that painful grasp on you turn into begging hands. Swelling him under your palms, soothing his stinging skin with your lips, listening to him encourage you, knowing that if your ex ever tried to step into this room, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

oh, the horrors, amirite?

this is the last of the fic. there is not a part three.

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #jaeyun smut

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kiwiikato · 8 months ago

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mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Six

note: i wanted to make it up to you all for the lack of a post yesterday by making this one 1k words longer and more wholesome, i hope you all enjoyed the ending, i need to feed u all more♡ thank u for ur patience and support >:3

masterlist

your body froze at his question. his voice was silky smooth. you knew he was teasing you and the effect it had on you. you body heated up more as your face erupted into a blush. no matter how hard you tried to keep calm, the way his looked at you almost had you fainting then and there.

and he knew the effect he had on you. and he liked it. in the short amount of time that he knew you, he thought you were attractive. so to see the effect he had on you in this moment, he couldn't help but have his ego grow slightly.

"so? do i make you nervous?" that damn cocky smirk never left his lips as he watched you, almost like he was eating you with his eyes. "no." you quickly blurted out, your thoughts going haywire. "i don't knowww," his voice playfully drew out his words, "the pink on your cheeks and the way you keep trying to avoid looking at me says otherwise♪"

he spoke teasingly, almost like he was tauntingly singing out your reactions to you, making you even more flustered. his body stayed looking at you, your eyes flickering between his arms to his chest to his sultry eyes.

you mouth dried up, panicking. "yeah yeah, i have eyes, i can look where i want." your response was not the best, you didn't know how to react to this, you could only look away. "oh. really?" his voice was mischievous.

you heard the ice bath he was in move around from his movement. he didn't speak, he was too quiet for your liking. until he did. "hey." you looked back at him, trying to see what he was doing. god, you regretted it, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

you face was met with his, only about an inch away from you, almost like he knew you'd turn to him. your breathing caught in your throat as his lips were so close yet so far. you barely knew him, but the effect of a guy as handsome as him had you wrecked.

your eyes widened as you stayed still. he only seemed to get closer. his mouth got closer to your ear. you could feel his hot breath against your ear. what was he doing? "hey... can you pass me my towel on the couch?"

he pulled away with the most mischievous smile you have ever seen. he had no shame teasing you only to mess with you. nothing was going to happen, you should've known, but gosh, the way he acted made it feel like something would. "yeah- i'll get it." you quickly got up, moving to pick up the towel that he had left on the couch.

you grabbed the soft material, handing it over to him. you turned away, not knowing how he'd come out of the ice bath, waiting for him to be finished. you heard him get out, now walking beside you.

your eyes trailed as he walked away, the towel wrapped around his waist. his back shown perfectly to you. his neck turned to look at you, sending a childish smile as he stuck his tongue out at you.

he walked away, entering the hallway, going to change. once you were out of his eyesight, you quickly grabbed your face, caught off guard by everything that happened. "holy fuck.... what a tease" you could only whisper to yourself.

you went to sit in the couch, taking deep breaths as you fanned yourself with your hands. it wasn't long till you heard a door open and saw kenji walking towards your direction. he sat on the couch, next to you. "can you help me?" he was quiet, almost like he was embarrassed to ask for help. "of course."

you smiled as you took the bandages, rubbing alcohol, antiseptic, and antibiotic ointment he brought for you to help. "okay let's see what we got here." you reached over to the bandage on his forehead, looking at him for confirmation. he nodded, letting you know it was okay.

you slowly took the bandage off, looking at the scratched up wound he had, definitely one that would leave a bruise on his face. "ouch kenji, you might get a bruise from this." his face paled. "a bruise?? on this face? no can do!" you laughed at his reaction. "it's okay, you're in good hands, let's fix up that pretty face then."

he froze, slightly blushing, as you grabbed the bottle of antibiotic ointment he had brought. his breathing was shaky as you placed a hand on his chin, pulling him forward for you to reach the cut. "oh- aren't you going to use rubbing alcohol first to clean it?" he asked quietly, trying his best not to stutter.

"ah no. using things like rubbing alcohol or antiseptic on wounds can actually slow down the healing process since they damage your tissues, also killing helpful germs. some say you can use antiseptic as long as you dilute it with water and try not to get in inside the cut. antibiotic ointment is good to use though since it keeps out infections, also keeping the wounds moist and clean." you said as you applied the ointment to his forehead.

you grabbed a new bandage, softly placing it on his forehead, making sure it covered it right. "how do you know that?" he asked, curious of your knowledge. "i told you i used to take care of kids when i first offered to help you with the baby kaiju, i researched a lot since kids can be pretty reckless, and i wanted to make sure i did my best for them." you said as you tapped his shoulder.

he lifted the shirts fabric over his shoulder, letting you see the scratch there. you repeated the process, then moving to his forearm, right under his elbow, and repeating the process there.

"there you go. should be good as new in no time." you said as you closed the medicines and placing them to the side. "thank you." he said softly. "no problem kenji, i'm always here to make sure you and the baby and take care of.

"oh also! mina told me to tell you to go with her and the baby, she wants to show us something." kenji smiled and got up, eventually leading the way towards the elevator he had.

the ride down was quiet but comfortable, the both of you eventually getting there. you walked out with kenji trailing behind you, happily walking to where the excited kaiju baby was. small coos came from her as she excitedly clapped and jumped seeing the both of you finally in front of her.

"give me some good news mina." kenji spoke tiredly as he took a sip from his drink. you watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down. "please tell us you found kaiju island." the idea made you sad to hear. you knew the baby kaiju didn't belong here but that didn't mean that you hadn't found yourself starstruck with her. you were grateful to know that wasn't why mina made you call kenji down here for.

"no, ken, but the baby has a surprise for you. right y/n?" she said, spinning over to you. "oh yes yes! we think you'll love it very much." you said as you clapped your hands excited. kenji smiled and turned towards the baby kaiju. "let's see then."

the baby kaiju flashed multiple colors, all the ones that belonged in the rainbow and those in between each shade. she bent her knees in joy as she started to jump from excitement. making a cute pose of bending one leg and raising her claw up as she alternated between limbs. your heart melted at the sight as she mimicked the intro song for the silly show known as 'kaiju step wandabada'.

the happy atmosphere from the song quickly changed when you found kenji and your faces contorting into one of disgust. it was then that yku realized that the baby kaiju had gone to the restroom and farted... horrendously.

"ugh! dear god... what is that smell?" kenji covered his nose and mouth with his arm as he moved backwards. you followed suit by using your shirt to cover your nose. "oh gosh..." you said quietly, trying to not gag from the stench.

"ken, y/n. you can not feed a twenty foot baby a half ton of fish and not expect anything but a giant pile of—" mina's words were cut off by the sound of another fart, loud as the one before it. green funk splattered against the walls of the containment as the baby jumped around.

"which brings me something that we need to discuss. until i'm able to find kaiju island, we're all going to need to raise her." kenji didn't like this idea what so all.

"mina, i got a whole season of baseball ahead of me. i just can't do it." he said as he started to walk away. "ken, you brought her home and now she is your responsibility. besides, you are not fully alone since y/n will also be helping you raise her." mina said as she followed behind him.

"exactly as mina said ken, you're not going through this alone, i'll be here to help you." you said as you walked beside him. he turned to say something to you but was cut off by mina floating in front of him, stopping you both in your tracks.

"she'll die if you both don’t take care of her. now it won't be easy but i'll do everything i can to help. y/n will too. we'll have to continue feeding her, washing her, develop a strategy for taking her to potty. you'll have to learn the five s's. swaddle, side, shush, swing, suck. you both need to raise her."

she menacingly floated towards you both, causing you both to walk backwards. her lights flickered orange, giving off a scary aura. you nodded your head quickly in fear as kenji's face tensed up and breathed heavy from all the events occurring.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

the days went by so fast yet so slow. everything drained the both of you, not expecting it to be so hard since it was two of you raising her. the days switched from waking up too early, to never getting sleep, to dealing with the crying, the feeding, the vomiting, pooping, the struggling to wash her, the burping her so late, to being slumped on the floor with eachother, to spending nights down stairs, cuddles together for warmth, to professor sato calling you and you rushing over to help with his work, to fighting kaijus, to knocking out while reading, to drinking tons of coffee, and more on repeat.

the days were horrible. and so painfully slow. so slow. every game kenji did went bad, so many strikes and missed hits. you felt bad for him as you would deal with the crying baby as you watched the tv. and other days you'd run off to go help his dad, avoiding telling him you were with his son of out respect to their lack of bond to kenji. some days you couldn't help but yell in a room by yourself. constantly running back and forth from your apartment, to professor satos place, and to kenji's house.

back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. you hated it. kenji hated it. but you both dealt with it. it wasn't till the seventy first day were you woke up to kenji rushing out of the house to a baseball match.

you laid on the floor next to mina and the baby as she slept fast asleep, thankfully giving you a second of peace from your exhaustion. the day was long as you waiting for kenji to come back.

a yell sounded through the room as you and the baby quickly shot up from the sound of something hitting the floor. kenji's helmet rolled on the floor, the source of the sound.

"threaten to trade me, ken sato?!? to the tigers?! to the tigers?!?! nobody trades ken sato!" you slowly stood up from where you sat, slowly walking towards kenji who stared outside to the ocean. "i'm doing my best, okay?! god!" his breaths were shaky as his voice cracked from his heavy emotions. "i feed you, i clean your massive poopies!" kenji's hand slammed against the glass as he shook.

you got closer to him, right as he started to crumble to the floor. "ken... are you crying?" you softly asked as your hand touched his back in a comforting manner. "no... i'm not crying." his breathing was shaky as you heard his sniffles. you watched as he wiped away at his eyes, getting rid of the tears that leaked.

"it's been a long day, hasn't it?" you said. you hand rubbed against his back, trying to soothe him. the both of you had gotten closer in the duration of taking care of the baby, connecting through the hardships of raising a living being. "yeah..." he whispered.

"do you want to talk about it?" he looked away, trying to his his face. "hey hey. it's okay. let it out." your hands found his face, gently pulling him to look at you. the thumbs of your hands rubbed against the bottom of his eye as you wiped away any tears that came out. "there there you big baby, everything's going to be okay."

he could only cry more as you held him. he scooted closer, his face looking to the floor. he spoke but the tears he had made it hard to hear. "what was that ken?" you said as his face sat on your hand. "can i hug you..." it was almost so quiet that you almost didn't hear it, but you did.

"come here, ken." your arms opened as he fell forward. his arms wrapped around your body as they rested at your waist. his grip was tight as he continued to softly cry. "don't cry ken, it's okay, you're not alone." you said as your arms held him to you, softly humming to ease him.

"can i get closer..." he asked, seeking comfort, anything. he just needed a loving embrace. "of course you can ken." before you knew it, your body was lifted up. it was then that you realized that ken had placed you on his lap as you both hugged each other.

his face found the crook of your neck, as your chin rested on his shoulder. "i'm sorry. i just don't want to be alone right now." "it's okay ken, it's okay. i'm here, let it out." his waterworks continued as soft whines and sniffles escaped him. you couldn't help the small blush that made its way to your face from the position you were in, shaking it off since he was vulnerable.

some time passed, the both of you not moving for a while. you almost thought he had fallen asleep from his silence. you were wrong. "y/n... can i sleep with you tonight, please." his voice was soft and timid. how could you deny someone as adorable as him.

"that's fine ken, as long as you're comfortable with it." you said as your hands trailed through his hair. his face moved from your neck, giving you a soft smile. "that would be nice." you moved to get off of his lap, with him following suit.

you walked towards the baby kaiju, letting her know that it was okay to sleep. mina played a lullaby, letting her lull to sleep. "thank you mina." you said quietly as kenji trailed behind you, his body timid.

"of course. do let me know if you both need anything. we can play some baseball to help ease you tomorrow if you'd like ken." ken nodded and mumbled a small 'thank you'.

you both walked to the elevator, deciding to call it a night for the both of you. it wasn't long before the doors open and you moved through his house to the spare room he had lent to you to stay it. "oh wait hold on, can i change into pajamas really quick?" you nodded your head as ken ran to his room to find comfortable clothes since he still adorned his baseball uniform.

you moved into the room, tidying the bed a bit as you waited for him to return. you turned the lights off as you went to lay in bed. it wasn't long to the sound of the door opened, you could hear soft steps make there way to the other side of the bed. "y/n..." he whispered, trying to see if you were awake or not.

"get in the bed kenji, you need your rest." ken nodded as he pushed the covers aside and got in. the both of you laid side to side, facing one another. the room was dark but moonlight flashed through the window, illuminating his features nicely.

"thank you." "you're welcome ken, you've had a rough day, get some rest and relax your head." you said as snuggled more into the sheets. "thank you again.. this means a lot, i wasn't feeling the best— is that a frog?" your eyes snapped open as you stared at ken slightly laugh at the frog stuffed animal that laid in your arms.

"shut up! leave him alone." you said as you held him close. he could only laugh as he shook his head. "do you really get that lonely at night?" he asked teasingly. "weren't you the one that was just crying? why are you teasing me, i'll kick you out of the bed right now." you said, huffing out of embarrassment.

"no no no, i just thought it was cute." you grumbled put a 'whatever' at his teasing. "look. come here." you didn't have the chance to react till kenj reached over, pulling you body against his. his arms wrapped around you as his leg laid on top of you, getting comfortable.

"there. now you won't be lonely." he said as his head rested on yours. "shut up." you grumbled. you could feel his chest vibrating against you. "your welcome n/n, now sleep with me."

you didn't say anything, instead just scooted closer as the blanket wrapped around you both. the room was silent as your breathing intertwined. it was peaceful. it wasn't long till you both felt your eyes grow heavier. "goodnight n/n."

your eyes closed as his arms pulled you closer. his eyes admiring the sight of you against him. he softly smiled, closing his eyes to follow you into sleep. his head leaned down as he lips placed a small but gentle kiss on your head.

he snuggled into you more. he could get used to this, it was nice... really nice. his thoughts were cut short as he, too, fell into sleep. the night flew with small dreams of you, his mouth in a smile as he slept.

TAGLIST

@ilovemyhusbandaaravos @miffysoo @dumbkira15 @chaoticotaku @channit @shingsoluvely @vampz-cats @mixvchelle @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dreamayy @justanotherkpopstanlol @bat1212 @angelitadiaz @snowbusiness @witcwitchy @mizzowizzo @buggs-1 @mmeerraa @everywonuu @nevermorekisses @f1uveryysblog @t4naiis @stxrrielle @ixqiix @arrozyfrijoles23 @sincerest-one @imsimping4life @sassy-cat-in-town @jack-of-all-trades-696 @flutterfly365 @eternalgoddessofart @hulyenl @leabrainrot @sunmigs @m3q3kic @lynbubble @leviannx @call-me-nyxx @gurofushi @ya-boi-v @im-sidney @haitani-zoe

#ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #professor sato #ultraman #kenji sato x reader

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ramblingoak · 8 months ago

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Naps With Copia

Nap #11: An Interesting Nap

*This does contain a very very very very mild spoiler for Rite Here Rite Now but it's not something that effected the plot of the movie*

For @angellayercake 💙

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: again just a very very very mild spoiler for the movie, it's based on a brief moment in it! No other warnings, just Copia being loving and soft, sfw, 980 words, not beta read sorry (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for the Italian help!!)

“Ah, so that’s where it disappeared to.”

Copia’s voice had you blinking awake, squinting against the lights that were backstage. Your cheeks heated up and you shuffled further under your makeshift blanket to hide them. Thankfully your Papa looked more amused than anything, a smile pulling at his lips as he dropped down to his knees next to the couch you had claimed.

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Sorry for what, corvetto mio?” He chuckled when you glanced down at what was covering you, the gem-encrusted robe he wore during rituals. “Well, it does look lovely on you I must say.”

You burrowed deeper at his complement, until just your eyes were visible. Copia looked behind him when there was the clatter of boots, the ghouls chasing each other off the stage and then scrambling around to put their instruments away.

“Ai! No running!”

He groaned in exasperation when they ignored him, banging the metal doors open and going off to do Satan knows what. When he mumbled something about gray hairs you reached a hand out from under his robe so you could cup his cheek and get him to meet your eyes.

“I love your gray hair, Papa.” Copia bit his lip, tilting his head to the side to press against your hand a little harder. Some of those lovely gray hairs of his tumbled across his forehead and he just looked so lovely you had to tug him close so you could kiss him. His forehead was first, followed by his precious nose and finally those irresistible lips for a brief moment before you pulled away. “I love you. I’m so proud of you, have I told you that yet?”

“Maybe once or twice.” He grinned and then lifted up his robe to climb onto the couch with you. “Scootch over, let me join you for a little nap, eh?”

After a few unfortunately placed knees and elbows the both of you found a comfortable position, one of Copia’s legs shoved in between yours and his arms wrapped around your back. Your face was pressed against his neck, your lips hovering over where his pulse was strongest. Another spot you loved to kiss so you did just that, letting your lips linger so you could feel the steady beat against them. It was too much to resist to poke your tongue out, tasting the sweat and paint that had run down his neck during practice.

“Corvetto mio, if you don’t stop–ah,” He hissed when you nipped his skin, his voice a little shaky when he continued. “This nap will get very interesting if you keep that up.”

“Maybe I want an interesting nap, Papa.”

He groaned when you nipped at him again but he didn’t pull away, instead his hands slid down your back stopping when he could slip one of them just beneath the hem of your shirt. You shivered as the leather of his gloves touched your bare skin. Copia’s chest vibrated against you when he laughed at your reaction.

The bastard knew you had a thing for his gloves.

In retaliation you grabbed his sparkly scarf, tugging it out of the way so your mouth could reach more of his neck. He stroked up and down your back as you left more marks on his skin. Marks you’d have to remember to cover back up with makeup after you both left the safety of the couch. Your fingers began to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, opening up a handful of them before Copia let out a frustrated moan, removing his hands from under your shirt so he could stop you.

“I don’t think this is the best spot for an…interesting nap, corvetto mio.”

“Ugh fine, have it your way.”

A little yelp escaped you when he wrapped an arm around you once more and tugged you as close as he could. Your face was tucked against his neck again, his own face lowered so his lips brushed against your ear when he spoke in a low voice.

“Oh I will have it my way later, I promise you that.” You shivered against him, pleased when he rubbed your back again and then tugged the robe back up over your shoulders. “Besides, I know how rambunctious you get and we don’t want to damage this damned thing.”

“Whatever you say, Papa.” You giggled when he pressed a noisy kiss to your cheek before settling along his body more comfortably. “What do you keep calling me?”

“Hmm?” Copia’s voice was sleepy, the poor man already drifting off. No doubt exhausted from working so hard during the tour so far. “You mean ‘corvetto’?”

“Sí.”

“Crow.” You frowned before lifting your head to look at him. He was giving you the special smile only you ever saw. The one where you could see all his love and fondness for you. “You are like a little crow, stealing my sparkly things. Like my robe.”

“I was tired!” His smile grew at your grumpy look, a leather encased finger tapping the pout you were giving him. “And cold.”

“I didn’t say anything, amore.”

“Yes but you were thinking something.”

“The only thing I was thinking about was how much I adore you, corvetto mio. And how happy I am that you are here. With me.”

He quietly wiped at your cheeks with his scarf. Brushing the few tears away that escaped your eyes.

“I think after this tour is over I’ll be able to afford even more sparkly things for you to steal.”

“I don’t need sparkly things, Copia.” You lifted your head up so you could kiss him, moving your lips gently against his and pulling away before the kiss deepened as it inevitably would. “I just need you.”

“Then you’re in luck, amore.” He pressed against the top of your head before continuing, “Because that’s something I can always give you.”

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#rite here rite now spoilers #ghovie spoilers #copia x reader #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #copia #oakie's writing #naps with copia

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heavenlyraindrops · 11 months ago

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter One ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter One Warnings: Slight mention of blood, profanity, mild violence How to find the other chapters in my pinned post

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter One]

♱♱♱

“What?”

You stared at Adam incredulously, wings almost stuttering to a stop mid-air. He stared back, unfazed at your reaction as you backed away and up from him, mind reeling. You were both suspended in the air, held up by your moving wings, but you felt like you were going to plummet to the ground any second.

The recently opened Pentagram in the sky flickered at the edges around the gaping hole that had allowed the angels to enter Hell. To be fair, you weren’t supposed to be there- you weren’t an exterminator, but Adam had managed to get you permission to join him, arming you with a spear and calling it protection. Plus, if you wanted to go, it wasn’t like the Seraphim would object. It wasn’t a secret, the soft spot they had for you- although, unlike Adam, you did your best to abstain from exploiting it for your every whim.

“What’s the big deal?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t wanna marry me? I’m the First-“

“First Man, I know,” you frowned, voice strained, at his blatant arrogance. “But Hell in the middle of an extermination isn’t exactly the place to propose to someone, Adam.”

“I was gonna say First Dick,” he grumbled. “Why the fuck you gotta be so complicated? Just fuckin’ say yes. I’m the First Di- Man, you’re the purest soul in Heaven, it only makes sense-“

You balled your fists, forcing yourself to keep a level head. “Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to marry you?”

Adam almost seem to freeze in mid-air. His still beating wings gave it away. “Why the fuck not?” He snarled. You flinched, and his face softened slightly.

“You know I won’t stop trying until you say yes,” he declared. You rolled your eyes, raising up and away into the red sky.

“Just stop trying,” you snapped, and with a powerful beat of your wings you set off into the distance, ignoring Adam’s calls, voice chasing after you, commanding you to stay back.

Your eyes streamed against the wind. You knew Adam liked you, he hadn’t exactly been quiet about it, but there was a lot of stuff he wasn’t quiet about- a lot of stuff which, ultimately, was a turn off for you. You were definitely never going to marry him, and the sheer audacity for him to propose to you so casually, in the middle of Hell, just pissed you off in a way you couldn’t describe.

You sighed. There was no point dwelling on it now. A large silhouette in the distance began to form more clearly. A large- manor? Palace? You glanced down at the streets swooping away beneath you. They were deserted.

Weird. You mentally shrugged. People probably just didn’t want to get caught out in the middle of an extermi-

BANG!

Angelic bullets? Your mind barely registered the thought.

A searing pain stabbed into your wing, which went stiff. For a horrifying moment you were suspended in mid-air, your wings flapping frantically as you tried to stay up, a terrified cloud of feathers and limbs, before another BANG! tore through your remaining functional wing.

You screamed as you flapped your wings a few more pathetic times, careening straight towards the manor-palace. You crashed through a window, taking the curtains down with you, the glass showering you unceremoniously, cutting into your skin as you lay sprawled across the floor in a cloud of feathers. Your spear clattered onto the floor next to you, your wing twitching painfully.

You barely even managed to notice your own blood until you focused your vision. The light from the broken window filtered across your body, a slit cutting across the dark, shadowy room. Your gilded blood glinted in it, seeping into the carpet and the curtains which were buried beneath your weak form, staining the pure white of your splayed out wings.

A single white feather drifted down from the air and landed on your arm. You coughed. Gold sputtered from your lips and trickled down the side of your mouth.

Charming, you thought dryly.

The door of the room opened. You could just barely hear the creak above the blood pounding in your ears. You gulped, hearing footsteps get closer and closer to you-

“Well well well. What do we have here?”

I’m royally screwed, you thought, closing your eyes and waiting for the killing blow.

Instead, gentle, gentle hands touched your face, turning it towards the light and scraping hair away from your eyes. You flinched at the touch, then relaxed as the voice whispered something. You couldn’t make it what it was saying, but it was soothing. And calm. Your breathing evened out. You just barely managed to lift your heavy eyelids.

“Who are you?” Your mouth formed the words but your voice couldn’t get them past your throat without them coming out cracked and gravelly. The voice hushed you. You couldn’t make out the person's face. They were just a pale, blurry silhouette, leaning over your body.

“Close your eyes,” the voice said. “You’re safe now.”

You obeyed.

♱♱♱

You jolted, feeling a presence next to you. The warmth radiated off of them. You could sense their being there.

It was a struggle to unglue each eye open, and when you did, everything was blurry- it took you a few seconds to even realize you were in a bed. The soft covers rustled against your cheek, until you sat up. You blinked slowly and looked around, taking in your surroundings.

“Awake that quickly?”

You flinched, wings bursting out in alarm, unfurled over your head. The man sitting next to the bed you lay on raised an eyebrow, smirking. You gulped. “Who are you?”

“Never mind that.” He stood up, shaking down his rolled up sleeves. “How are your wings?”

You realized that they were still arched out from your back. You furled them back into your back, mortified. You also realized that they were painless.

“They’re healed,” you said breathlessly. The man flashed a prideful grin, revealing his sharp teeth. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“How?”

“Simple. I healed them.”

You frowned, pressing your back against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. He simply stood there, crossing his arms. You blinked, slowly.

“Thank…you?”

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly. You tilted your head as he beckoned for you to stand up, which you did slowly. You glanced out the window. This one wasn’t shattered, and the curtains hung proudly. You were in a different room than the first. The red sky beyond glared at you tauntingly.

“How long was I out?”

“Oh, not long. Don’t worry. The extermination’s still on.” He winked at you. “Your pretty self won’t be stuck here until the next one.”

You remained silent, staring at him, begging to God that your blush wasn’t showing on your face.

It must have been, because his grin only widened.

“Why did you save me?”

“My own selfish desires, of course.” He flicked his hand at a pair of chairs. “Sit down.”

Not knowing what to say, you complied. He sat opposite you. You leaned forward slightly, scanning his face for a single expression that might betray what was going to come next. You found nothing.

He sat back, completely relaxed, which unnerved you more than you could admit. The light hit off of his blond hair and pale skin that made him seem almost… angelic. You knotted your fingers together in your lap, biting your lip and waiting for him to speak.

“So. An angel, huh? You don’t look like an exterminator. How’d you find yourself down here?” His voice seemed to darken a little with his next words. “Did you… fall?”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Of course I didn’t fall,” you spat. You weren’t usually hostile, but the anxiety of the situation was pressing down on you far too hard. “I got special permission to come down by the Seraphim.”

The sinner raised an amused eyebrow at your outburst.

“And who are you to ask me anything?” You continued, frazzled. “A mere sinner-“

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”

You clamped your lips shut at his tone. He smiled, satisfied, and continued.

“So, the Seraphim. Why’d they let you down here? They’re not the type to bend rules like that.”

“How would you know?” You said. “I said I wanted to go, they let me.”

“They must have a soft spot for you, then.” His eyes narrowed. “Or, you’re important.”

“I’m nowhere near important,” you snapped, crossing your arms. He nodded slowly. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not.

For what seemed like another hour he continued to shoot questions at you, mostly about Heaven, and you hesitantly answered. You didn’t know why you stuck around as long as you did- refusing to acknowledge to yourself the sort of charm that beheld, the fact that he was so undeniably attractive, which you would never admit to yourself.

You relaxed when you heard him speak next: “You can go now. The Pentagram will close soon.” Pause. “Can you fly?

You stood up, dusting yourself off, and nodded before turning towards the window, which had magically pushed itself open.

“Wait,” he called out. You turned. “You should take this.” Your angelic spear materialised in front of you, dropping down into your hands.

You clambered out the window and jumped off, before hovering before it and turning to face him. The beat of your wings made the curtains sway. He leaned out, staring at you expectantly, as if he could sense what you were going to say.

“Now will you tell me your name?” You asked irritably. He smirked again, showing his sharp teeth this time. Your heart thumped in your chest.

“‘Course I can, angel. The name’s Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” His grin widened as he winked again. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The words knocked the breath out of you almost immediately. For a minute you froze, standing there like a deer in headlights before turning and swooping away into the red sky, towards the closing Pentagram.

The name’s Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar. The words echoed around your head relentlessly.

“Fuck.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @ica1, @boredlime, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter

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adrienneleclerc · 9 months ago

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just read The Happy Throuple and I love it so much, i would love to see more of them whenever you have time, like maybe the internet's reactions and / or the drivers. meeting the parents, baby showers, the bay being born, etc. I just think it's a great fic with lots of potential.

YES!!!!!!! I’m thinking the internet’s reaction is the first half and then the drivers’ reaction, meeting the parents, baby shower/gender reveal, and the baby’s birth will be separate, all of them will be in my Masterlist in the same bullet as “The Happy Throuple”

Nobody Everybody Knows

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: posting their relationship for everyone to see means that now everyone gets to comment about something they know nothing about

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Y/N faceclaim will ALWAYS be Becky G for social media posts just because I love her. There will be MULTIPLE “chapters” of the happy throuple’s story. For all intents and purposes, all the drivers who live in Monaco hang out outside the paddock except for “adults” like hulkenberg and Bottas. I also changed how Y/N and Alexandra know each other so they met at a party when Alexandra was 19 and Y/N was 18, okay? Okay

Since Charles posted on Instagram that he has another girlfriend and that he’s expecting a child, everyone has opinions. What’s great about Charles is that he disabled the comments, but that doesn’t stop other accounts from talking about their relationship.

Liked by user67 and 926,639 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc reveals that he was been in a polyamorous relationship with Alexandra Saint Mleux and her best friend, Y/N L/N. Not only that, but Y/N is carrying his child. How do you feel about the news?

View all 582,305 comments

charlosfan Charles got tired of white girls and started dating Latinas 😂. Alexandra is half Mexican and Y/N is _____, he really does have a type. Y/N seems sweet though

user92 Y/N baby trapped him for sure, like what does she even do?

queenalex Charles and Alex seem so happy with Y/N,

user19 Y/N is only with them for money

xoxolando doesn’t anyone find it weird that Y/N started dating them AFTER Charles and Alex got together? Like “oh he’s dating my best friend, I want to date him too”

user23 yes!! What is up with that?

heartf1 Y/N seems super messy imo

Liked by 1,029,483 users

f1wags Y/N M/N L/N was born in 2002, making her younger than Alexandra. Y/N is actually a singer signed with RCA Records

user59 say what you want about Y/N but that outfit ATE

kikafan25 she must not be a successful singer because I have never heard any of her songs.

user54 you’ve heard her songs. All those dilf edits to “a mi me gustan mayores”, that’s Y/N’s song

y/nbae she is so pretty! I love her music and now she’s going to be a mom, I’m happy for her

2 days after Charles posted, Y/N was washing dishes when she received a phone call from her mom.

“Hola mami, qué pasó?” Y/N asked.

“Como que ‘que pasó’, tu papá y yo nos enteramos por Despierta America que estás de novia con el piloto ese de fórmula uno y la otra niña, y encima de eso, estás embarazada. La relación va en serio? Sabes que ese muchacho cambia de novia cada 3 años, por dios. Y el bebé? Sigues siendo muy niña para criar a un bebé, por qué no usaste protección? No te eduqué para que salieras embarazada antes del matrimonio. Ni siquiera conozco esos dos, y te va a pedir matrimonio el Chuck ese?” Her mom lectured her. What do you mean ‘what happened’, your dad and I found out on Wake Up America that you are dating that F1 driver and the other girl, and on top of that, you’re pregnant. Is this relationship serious? You know that boy gets a new girlfriend every three year, for god’s sake. And the baby? You are too young to raise a baby, why didn’t you use production? I did not raise you to get pregnant before marriage. I don’t even know those two and is this Chuck guy going to propose?

“Mami, no quería que esto pasara, tuvimos cuidado, te lo juro.” Y/N said. “Estas cosas pasan, lo siento mucho, de verdad.” I didn’t want this to happen, we were careful, I swear. These things just happen, I’m sorry, really

“Bueno, está bien, pero habla con tu papá que él está más enojado que yo, te hablo luego, bye,” Y/N’s mom hung up, Y/N sighed and continued to wash dishes until she felt someone hug her from behind, placing a kiss on her shoulder. Okay, it’s fine, but talk to your dad, he’s angrier than I am, I’ll talk to you later

“Mi reina, of you keep doing that, I’m not going to finish the dishes,” Y/N said. Alexandra turned her around and kissed her lips.

“Then rest, ma papillon, you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be doing dishes.” Alexandra said, leading her to the couch.

“Have you seen Instagram lately? Everyone’s been talking about me.” Y/N said,

“Yeah, everyone was talking about me too when I first dated Charles. It comes with the territory I guess. We should go shopping!” Alexandra said.

“For what? We won’t know the baby’s gender until it’s 4 or 5 months old. Wait, google it to make sure.” Y/N said. Alexandra pulled out her phone,

“It says 18 to 22 weeks.” Alexandra said.

“Eh, I was close. So what are we going to shop for?” Y/N asked.

“For you! Now that people know we are dating, you get to come with us to events! So we need fancy maternity clothes, cocktail dresses, shoes, purses, this is going to be perfect.” Alexandra said,

On the other hand, Charles was getting calls from other drivers left and right so he decided to have Max, Lando, George, Lewis, Daniel and Alex over at his apartment.

“I ordered pizza, there are drinks in the fridge, I will answer all the questions you have about my relationship.” Charles states, putting Leo on the ground so he could roam around

“So Y/N and Alexandra are together?” Lando asked.

Yes.” Charles answered.

“But you are also together with them?” Lando followed up,

“Yes, that is how a polyamorous relationship works, mate.” Charles said.

“How did you decide to have Y/N join?” Max asked.

“Alexandra and I were dating for a while, sometimes Alexandra would invite Y/N if we were shopping or going out to eat. Sometimes I would be left alone with Y/N and we would hit it off so well, I felt the same thing for her as I felt for Alexandra. One night Alexandra told me the reason why she kept inviting Y/N was because she had a crush on her and I confessed the same to Alexandra. So one day all three of us went to the movies, we told Y/N our feelings, Y/N took time to think about it, and when she said she had feelings for us too, we started taking it slow.” Charles said.

“So the relationship is all about love and not wanting to spice up the relationship?” Daniel asked.

“Nope, all love.” Charles answered.

“Do you even know Y/N’s parents?” Alex asked.

“I do not, they love back in New York.” Charles said.

“Do you think you’re going to marry Y/N and Alexandra and have a polyamorous marriage?” George asked,

“I would like to in the future, I love both of them so much, I have never felt so strongly about anyone.” Charles said.

“For ultrasound appointments, will both of you go with her?” Lewis asked.

“Yes, both of us will go with Y/N, it is more likely that Alexandra goes if the appointment falls on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday during race week.” Charles answered.

“So if Alexandra is doing something, and it’s only you and Y/N, that’s okay?” Lando asked.

“Yes, it’s okay if I’m just with Y/N. It’s okay if I’m just with Alexandra, and it’s okay if it’s just Alexandra and Y/N, it’s alright. Since Alexandra is still studying art history, Y/N is a singer, she is able to with me a lot more and now she Can because our relationship is public.” Charles said.

“Until she hits the 3rd trimester.” Max stated.

“Anyway, our relationship is healthy, we love each other very much.” Charles said, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizza.”

Charles was glad that his colleagues understood his relationship and didn’t make any crude remarks. He would have to talk to Pierre whenever he goes to Maranello. For the most part, the internet’s reaction was more positive than negative and that makes Charles more than happy.

The End

Hope y’all liked this installment, I am also working on more installments of Meet and Greet if you wanted more of Charles, Y/N, and Vidia

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #becky g #alexandra saint mleux #nobody everybody knows

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

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the ebb and flow of fate

Cazriel x f!Reader (Mor’s sister)

(part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Summary: “Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened.

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.”

Word Count: ~6.2k

Warnings: eventual smut in later chapters, sexual assault, harassment, stalking, nightmares, light smut-ish (m/m, briefly described), light angst, liberal use of bargains, minors dni!

A/N: this was written for day 20 of my kink/angst-tober prompts but, my patience is limited and I needed to get this out of into the world and out of my brain for a bit. part 2 will be posted 10/20.

Something in her had been … off, ever since she visited a friend in the Autumn Court. Of course, they had all heavily protested her choice, but she’d been a friend of hers for years, and she firmly held her ground - insisting everything would be fine and that they didn’t know of her relation to them.

It was driving all of them to the verge of insanity trying to figure out exactly what happened. Rhys gently probed against her mind once, and was immediately shut out - the walls going up like impenetrable iron gates, and a litany of creative curses were shouted down the hall.

“How was your visit?” Mor asked hesitantly. She was curled up in an armchair, eyes quickly scanning the page, a full plate of food - likely a few hours old, still on the table beside her.

“Fine.” Y/n replied, not looking up. The same answer she’d given everyone all week.

“Any more details?” She probed.

She slammed the book shut, looking up at her. “What else do you want me to say?” Her voice was low, and she could tell her anger was rising to dangerous levels. Maybe it would be worth provoking y/n’s temper, if only to get some kind of reaction out of her.

“You won’t eat, you won’t talk to us, and you’re walking around like a gods-damned ghost.”

She plucked a grape from the plate next to it, popping it in her mouth with an indignant look on her face. “Better?” Gods, she was going to kill her - sister or not.

“I want you to tell me what the fuck happened before Rhys and I storm over there and kill someone.” Mor spat, rising to her feet. Y/n rose with her, throwing the blanket off, fists clenched at her side.

“That’s not necessary.”

“You can tell us anything, you know that right?” She tried to keep her voice gentle, soft even.

“I’m aware,” she snipped, “but that doesn’t mean it’s any of your business.”

“For Cauldron’s sake.” She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut before leaving the room - in case she said or did anything she regretted.

“Any luck?” Rhys asked from the end of the hallway.

“Don’t act like you weren’t eavesdropping.”

He grimaced, but turned to stride with her. “It’s been three days.” He said quietly, “Cassian and Azriel will be back tomorrow.”

If anyone can get answers out of her, it would be those two. Even Amren couldn’t reach her.

“Where’s y/n?” Cassian asked the next day. Mor looked to Rhys with a grimace. A shadow curled around Azriel’s ear.

“In her room probably.” Mor replied. The same place she’d spent most of her time in.

“Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened.

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.”

He relayed the message, and they all heard the sound of something slamming - along with a wince from Rhys. Mor figured she’d likely shouted something into his mind. Two minutes passed, and nothing. Cassian glanced at Azriel, and the two Illyrians rose - heading down the hall.

“Good luck.” Mor muttered behind them and Rhys snorted.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian’s voice echoed through the room as her door swung open - hitting the wall hard enough there might be a small dent.

“Nothing.” She muttered, turning over in her bed and tugging the blankets closer to her. Azriel exchanged a look with him.

“Get up.” Cassian barked.

“Fuck off.”

“Not happening princess.” He strode towards the side of the bed, ripping the blanket back. He was greeted by a book careening towards his face, one he deflected with a shield. “You can do better than that.” He tugged the pillow out from under her and she shot up to sit. His stance widened, feet braced on the floor - prepared for a fight.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Y/n said through gritted teeth.

Cassian hummed, tilting his head as if he was debating it. “No.”

“On your feet or over his shoulder, your choice.” Azriel said from behind him. His voice was flat and smooth. Another book launched - where the hell had it come from? And Cassian let it fly over his head, knowing exactly who it was aimed for. A low snarl came from the corner of the room, and Azriel strode up to stand next to him, forming a wall. Y/n, of course, didn’t look intimidated and no fear came from her - but he did see caution in her eyes.

“You’re a brat.” The shadowsinger commented, with a tilt of his head. A predator assessing her, waiting for her next move.

She sent him a vulgar gesture, and apparently Azriel was fed up because quicker than she could react, he had her slung over his shoulder, stalking out her door with a shield covering his wings.

Smart, he thought as he followed, he didn’t doubt y/n would use that to her advantage. She’s done it before, raking her nails up his wings and nearly getting herself killed.

He deposited her at the table, shoving her down into the seat next to him before pushing it in. Cassian took up vigil on her other side. If he thought she was angry before, she was absolutely fuming now - sending both him and Azriel a look that promised a slow, slow death. He rolled his eyes, he’d been on the receiving ends of that look frequently, and it didn’t phase him.

“I thought it was over your shoulder.” Rhys’s voice flooded into his mind.

“Azriel took care of it.”

“Obviously. Did she throw anything at you?”

“Yes.” A strained chuckle came from Rhys, and he felt his presence leave.

She sat there, taking small sips of water and avoiding eye contact from anyone.

Cassian let out a low groan before filling her plate with food.

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance, their eyes glazing over slightly. “We have things to take care of,” Mor gave an awkward excuse and they both rose. Leaving them to the wolves, then. Wolf - actually.

“Don’t make me feed you like a child.” Azriel told her when the two were out of earshot.

“You wouldn’t,” y/n countered, but didn’t sound confident. Azriel reached for her fork, and she snatched it away from him, spearing a piece of food instead and slowly raising it to her mouth.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Cassian asked her.

She ignored the question, choosing to eat small bites of food instead.

“Or I can go find out for myself,” Azriel offered.

“No,” she said too quickly. “Don’t.”

She was confident Azriel would go find out what happened, and that’s not what she wanted. Regardless of whether he heard it from her or figured it out himself, it wouldn’t go over well. But, if they were here when they did learn there’s a better chance of her de-escalating the situation.

“I’m not ready to talk about it.” Her hand shook, palms going clammy. She saw them exchange a worried look out of her peripherals and for some reason it incensed her further. She’d had enough of people worrying. Well, she fully knew she’d been acting like a ‘brat’ as Az would say for the last few days. But, in her defense they were all busy-bodies who couldn’t mind their own damn business.

“When will you be?” Cassian sounded … gentle, almost. Like she was some breakable doll. She firmly placed a lid down on her anger, shoving it away.

“I’ll let you know.”

“You have until tomorrow night.” Azriel cut in. With a low and obnoxious groan, she slumped in her seat. “Finish your food,” he directed. A particularly nasty look was shot his way, but she relented.

There’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d make her eat if she refused. The two of them were overbearing and annoying, but meant well. Y/n knew Rhys had sent them in, considering his, Mor’s and even Amren’s attempts had all failed.

“I thought you’d be happier to see us,” Cassian teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’s been two weeks.”

“I am happy to see you,” she mumbled. It’s the truth, she was glad to see him, and if she’d actually known they were back she probably would’ve left to at least check they’re in one piece.

As soon as she’d cleared her plate, Cassian looped his arm in between hers - not giving her a chance to go anywhere. “We’re training.”

“I just ate.” She protested, but it didn’t work. Azriel trailed them outside, hopefully to make sure Cassian didn’t end up working her to the point she threw up.

She realized the mistake exactly as it happened, both arms raising for a block - and her shirt lifting as well. Revealing two yellowing hand print shaped bruises on her waist. She forced her expression to remain still, to not react, and hoped they hadn’t noticed. But, Cassian stilled. Eyes focused on where her shirt now covered her stomach. Y/n could’ve taken the opportunity to strike him, but didn’t.

“Where are those from?” He asked her, and she could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even. They’d caught Azriel’s attention as well, from where he was standing a few paces away from the ring. Based on the predatory look of rage in his eyes, he’d seen everything.

“None of -”

“Don’t.” The general cut in shortly.

“It’s fine.” She insisted, going on the defensive.

“Is that … part of what has you upset?” His throat bobbed, and she could tell he was trying very hard to keep himself calm. Y/n turned and ducked out of the ring, returning her sword to the rack. There was no use in lying to them, they both always knew when she was. And when she badgered them for her tells, they refused. So, she took a deep breath and prepared herself to deal with the fall out.

“Yes. I took care of it already.” Her voice shook with each word.

“What happened?” Azriel asked mildly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and tilted her head back to look at the sky. She couldn’t look at them now, and didn't want to. Didn’t want the two of them to see her break down. Instead, she focused on the stars above her as the story spilled out. One of her friends' brothers had cornered her. She was in her early-twenties, and had never been interested in anyone. Not in that way. When the … opportunity came up she went along with it for a minute - even flirted harmlessly with him, but when he pressed and tried to push her for more, tried to get her to kiss him, and when he refused …

“That’s when,” she waved her hand down her stomach, “that happened. I told him to stop but he wouldn’t,” she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes as the story kept spilling out, of how he grabbed her breast, tried to stick his hand between her legs.

“And he called me a frigid bitch after I kneed him in the balls.” She finished weakly, forcing a laugh. The two of them had gone incredibly still, and she felt the tears drip from her cheeks onto her shirt. “I took care of it.” She insisted.

The ‘taking care of it’ worked for a day. Until he came back, thinking she was just playing with him - that she liked the ‘playing hard to get.’ The worst was her friend justifying it, when she brought it up to her.

“Well,” she hesitated, biting on her bottom lip. “You did flirt with him, how’s he supposed to know?”

“I told him to stop.” Y/n insisted.

“Just try telling him again.” She sighed. “I don’t want to get in a fight with him.” She told him, again, over the next three days.

“There’s more.” Azriel said. Gods, he always knew - even if she was just omitting something. “All of it. I need to hear all of it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She yelled, the anger she’d kept a firm lid on spilling out as tears ran down her face. “I don’t want to think about it, I want it to be over.”

Cassian strode towards her, wrapping her in his arms and bringing her close to his chest, rubbing her back and holding her through her sobs. Cool shadows swirled around her neck and shoulders, and she recognized Azriel’s way of comforting her.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, face still pressed into his chest.

“None of that,” he replied, running a hand through her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She snorted, pushing back against him. “You’re growing soft.”

“Just for you,” he grinned but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Y/n yelped as she was gently tugged away from him, instead bundled into Azriel’s arms, his fingers running through her hair and shadows still curling around her. Probably reporting her expressions even as he couldn’t see her face. “Can you tell me now?”

She exhaled slowly. She wouldn’t get out of this, so she might as well tell him. “He just didn’t know how to take the hint. He thought I was playing with him.” Azriel tensed underneath her, and she scented the pure rage coming from both of the Illyrians and knew if she didn’t say anything else someone in the Autumn court would find their immortal life cut short. “I told him if he didn’t stop I would stab him.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, but didn’t release her - instead holding her tight as if she might disappear at any moment.

“Don’t -,” she took in a breath, “don’t tell anyone else.” She pushed back, tilting her head to see his expression. He looked troubled by it and glancing over to Cassian told her he’s feeling the same way. “Please.”

They looked at each other, as if they were communicating something silently, and nerves hit her - crawling under her skin and swirling in her stomach. She took another step back, forcing Azriel’s arms to hang back by his sides.

“We’ll make a deal, with a few conditions.” Cassian said, and strode closer to her, standing next to Azriel to make a wall formed of pure arrogance. She groaned internally. “If you don’t agree. We’ll tell him.”

She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “What are they?”

“Firstly, they’re non negotiable.” He waited for her nod before continuing. “You don’t visit them again. If you want to see her, she comes here.”

“I’d have to go through Rhys for that.” He gave her a look, as if to say - “that’s your problem,” and she rolled her eyes.

“Second. No more hiding.”

“I wasn’t -”

“Yes you were.” Azriel cut in, raising an eyebrow at her glare. “Rhys told us.”

“He needs to learn to mind his business.” She muttered and Cassian snorted.

“If he didn’t tell us, we would’ve figured it out. You don’t miss meals.”

“I could have just wanted to eat in private.”

“For three days in a row?” He crossed his arms.

“Mind your damn business.”

“Enough.” Azriel cut off the quickly budding argument between the two of them. He’s always been the mediator between the two of them - both ‘blessed’ with quick tempers.

She wheeled on him instead. “And you have to promise not to tell him.” She needed to be very clear on that, otherwise he would take the loophole and exploit it. He looked conflicted, but ended up promising - unless it somehow escalates, but considering she’ll never see him again - she doubts it will.

“Is that everything?”

“One more. Anyone does that to you again, you tell us.”

“As long as you don’t tell anyone else without my permission permission.” They exchanged another look, and both nodded. She stared at them for a few seconds. “It’s a bargain.”

She fought her smile as she was on the receiving end of twin glares. Apparently they hadn’t intended for it to go that far, but now she knew their word was good.

“Brat.” Cassian muttered, but started searching for the tattoo.

She shoved up her sleeves. Nothing on her arms. But, felt a tiny prick on chest, and strode towards the mirror, adjusting her shirt to see. Some kind of constellation was etched into her skin, spreading across her collarbones in a pattern she didn’t recognize. Azriel and Cassian had matching ones - it took them a minute to figure it out, especially with their leathers in the way, but small dots were interwoven with the tattoos already lining their chests.

“It’s … feminine.” Cassian commented.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she raised a brow at him.

“Nothing wrong with it.” He quickly agreed.

“I think they’re pretty,” she teased, poking his chest.

“Did you figure it out?” Rhys asked later as the three of them met in his office.

Cassian’s hand ran down his face. “We did.”

“And what is it?”

“We can’t tell you.” Azriel replied through gritted teeth.

Rhys paused for a moment, before raising his brows. “You let her trick you into a bargain? I thought you would’ve known better.” Both of them bristled. Ever since y/n figured out what a bargain was, she managed to word things carefully enough they’d get wrapped into them. Rhys still remembers the first time he met her, back when she was a youngling and before they managed to get her out of the Court of Nightmares.

“Mor said you could fly,” she whispered - low enough nobody else could hear. She looked up and saw the hesitant look on his face. “I can keep a secret.” She grinned. He gave her a quick nod.

He saw her again, a year later - now seven years old. “Could you take me flying?” He gave a subtle shake of his head, but every time she saw him she would ask, and eventually he caved.

“I’ll make a deal with you, you stop asking - and I’ll take you flying”

“It’s a bargain.” She whispered, and Rhys winced as a small band appeared around his upper arm, a matching one on her. That’s not supposed to happen … she shouldn’t be able to make those without both parties expliciting saying it.

They snuck her out the next day and took her, if only to keep anyone else from noticing the thin tattoo around her upper arm. He still remembered Mor half-heartedly lecturing her about the danger of making bargains - and not to go doing it with strangers.

Another idea popped into his head. “Did she say you can’t show me?”

Cassian winced. “I don’t-,” he turned to give Azriel a sharp look, “we don’t want to betray her trust. But it’s taken care of.”

Rhys nodded. He’d have to wiggle it out of her himself then, even if that’s nearly impossible. Besides, if the two of them break her trust like that, and she finds out … that would be a fight he doesn’t want to be anywhere near.

Mor promised to get her out of Hewn City, whenever she needed to. Y/n was eighteen when she left, when she moved to Velaris, met Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and started making friends in the city. She should’ve known any ‘friends’ she met living there … Y/n cut off that line of thinking, reminding herself it’s not her fault, in any way. But, her mind still swirls with all of the ways she possibly could have prevented it, or the different things she could have done. For gods sake, she’s told others countless times that it’s not their fault, and they’re in no way responsible for others actions, but she still gets caught in that spider web, in the dangerous abyss of her own thoughts caving in on her.

“Where’d you go?” Rhys interrupts her and she blinks heavily.

“Here and there.” She mutters, pushing some food around on her plate.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Him and Mor have stopped questioning her as frequently, but still try to put subtle feelers out to see if she will respond, or open up to them.

The words blurt out before she can think twice about them. “Can I speak with the priestesses again?”

His entire body tenses, his shoulders tightening and eyes darkening. She’d just given him a very clear idea of what happened while she was away.

The priestesses. He can only think of a few reasons why she’d want to speak with them. It could be related to her past, but more likely to some recent events. Barely, he manages to keep his composure.

“I’ll ask them.” His voice is short and he watches her worry her bottom lip.

“Please don’t do-”

“Anything rash?” He raises a brow, forcing a cool and neutral tone.

“I took care of it.” She insisted. Similar to what Azriel and Cassian said.

“Will you ever tell me? Or Mor? She’s worried sick.” Rhys knew it was a low blow, even as he said it.

“I’m tired of … I’m tired of talking about it.”

He wondered why she’d want to go to the priestesses, why she’d want to speak with them if she’s already sick of talking. But then again, he’s heard that sometimes they go into their offices just to cry or scream. Either way, he’s not going to deny her the chance, or that request. He knows without a doubt that they’ll agree to see her. They all love her there, and she spends a lot of her time studying in the archives. Technically that’s her official position in his court - to research, her mind is her greatest weapon.

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

“I wanted to make you feel useful.” He rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick her nose. She dodged it, swatting his hand away. “But if you’re going to complain I can ask them myself.’”

“Asking who?” Mor swept into the room, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. Rhys took that as his cue to leave, before he got caught into anything between the two sisters.

Y/n mouthed ‘traitor’ at Rhys’s retreating figure, when Mor wasn’t looking.

“I’m going to ask if I can speak with the priestesses again.”

“Oh.” She paused, before sitting down on the couch next to her, stretching her legs out in front. “Anyone in particular?”

She exhaled in relief, something Mor noticed but didn’t comment on.

“Not Merrill.” Y/n muttered, drawing a laugh out of Mor.

“Merrill has a good heart.”

“I deal with her enough already.” Y/n groaned, leaning her head back on the cushion.

“How is that going?” Mor switched subjects, navigating to safer areas. If she pushed too much on this topic … y/n might shut down again.

“Slowly. Traveling between worlds, Rhys is obsessed with it and translating some of the old texts takes hours.”

“Is he now?” She turned, interested, and gave her a small smile.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“I won’t snitch.”

“I won’t either.” She snipped back, but a small smile was on her face, and some mirth dancing in her eyes. She could’ve cried from relief - even if she has other things to think about now, about how she has a very clear idea of what happened. Part of her wants to lecture her sister about bargains, again.

Y/n was forced to stop hiding, the tattoo pricking into her skin every time it thought she was being a bit too reclusive. Still, she wondered if it really was a fair bargain - their silence in return for; not visiting her again, not hiding, and telling them if anyone does that again. She supposes that could mean several things, and they never specified a specific timeframe on when she would have to tell them. In her desperation for them to keep her confidence, she’d done something foolish and doubted they would let her out of that anytime soon. If ever.

The two of them can be just as tricky as she is, and just as likely to find loopholes. At least they wouldn’t use it against her with the intention to cause harm. She’d never make one of those with someone she doesn’t trust. Even if the wording is iron-clad, there’s always room for error. Most of the ‘bargains’ she’s made are always light-hearted.

Like making Rhys take her to fly, even if it was the shortest gods-damned flight of her life. Two minutes, if that - and under the cover of dark, after him and Mor snuck her out of Hewn City. Her very first taste of freedom. She was always kept away whenever the Inner Circle visited. Still, she managed to sneak away from the guards, learning how to create diversions and somehow give the impression she was still sleeping in her rooms, enchanting her toys to keep moving, or a pen to keep writing, a book to keep flipping its pages. They never caught her either. She wasn’t even born when Mor left. In fact, she wasn’t born until after Rhys took up his throne. Born into a ‘cleaned-out’ Hewn City, and grateful for it - she doesn’t want to know what it was like before.

Not many children were around, anyway. The friends she did make were the ones her parents encouraged her to, from foreign courts for the most part. People she’s unlikely to ever visit again. Technically, she could leave of her own accord - but that would mean whoever she’s visiting is going to have someone knocking on their door to drag her away.

A knock sounded on the door as she slumped back against her pillow, and she could sense Azriel was out there.

“Come in,” she called. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’d enter anyway.

The door swung open, revealing him leaning against her doorway. “I heard you went to speak with the priestesses.”

Cutting right to the chase, then. “I speak with them every day. It’s part of my job description.”

His eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean.”

She groaned, pushing herself up to sit. “You don’t need to haunt the doorway, you can come in.”

“Last time I did, I recall a book launched my way.”

She held up both hands, showing there were no projectiles in reach. He still looked cautious as he entered, and took up a seat in one of the armchairs, right by her favorite window. She swung her legs over so she sat on the edge of her bed, propping her forearms on her thighs.

Azriel couldn’t help as his eyes shifted down ever so slightly to where her nightdress slipped down, showing the tops of the curves of her breasts. His gaze switched back up as quickly as possible, and somehow y/n didn’t catch the action - instead looking out towards the window. Good, the last thing he needs is to start ogling her, to give her the impression he’s coming onto her. There was something else he could do. He’d need to speak with Cassian.

“I’m proud of you,” he offered instead. Her head snapped, back to look at him. Her eyes were wide and he fought the urge to shift under her gaze.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips turning up into a soft smile. A shadow curled around his ear, happy, happy, happy. It sang.

“What do they tell you?” She tilted her head, eyeing it.

“That you’re happy,” he said honestly.

She blinked twice, lips curving into an easy smile. “I suppose I am,” she finally answered.

“You should get some sleep.” He’d noticed the bags under her eyes, how she still seemed exhausted and worn down throughout the day. Azriel had told Cassian he needed to stop dragging her outside and beating her into the ground every day. He’s aware healing is different for each person, but it had been a month since she returned, and his worry only grew.

“That’s rude.” She frowned, but glanced at the mirror across from her bed. Interesting placement. “I do look like shit.”

He snorted. “You look tired, there’s a difference.”

“Sleep hasn’t … been easy.” He could tell it cost her something to admit that. Stubborn pride, just like her sister and cousin. And the rest of them, he supposed.

“Nightmares?” He prompted, and she nodded. He wouldn’t pry further, but made a mental note to send a shadow in later, to keep watch on her. Maybe it was an invasion of her privacy, but he didn’t particularly care. “I’m right down the hall,” he jerked his chin towards the door.

“I’m aware.” Another shadow curled around his ear, stay, stay, stay. “Is it too nosy if I ask about that one?” She teased.

“Maybe.”

She held her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “I suppose it’s your job to keep secrets.”

“I recall someone making a terrible bargain to keep something secret.”

Her face dropped, and he got the impression he said the wrong damn thing. “They’ve already figured it out.” She mumbled, eyes avoiding him. He hated that, hated when she wouldn’t look at him.

“That’s not a terrible thing.” He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. He’s never been great at comforting, usually Cassian’s the one to do these kinds of things. Still, he found himself walking across the room, taking a seat next to her. On instinct, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his side.

She froze, went still for a brief moment, and he was about to move away when she leaned into him, her body relaxing. A few of his shadows swirled around her neck, and she hummed in content.

Another one curled around his ear, happy, stay. Maybe, for a minute or two.

Cassian went looking for Azriel, he wasn’t in his room - or downstairs or anywhere to be found, and tracked his scent off to y/n’s room, of all places. The door was already parted, and he nudged it open with his foot. Y/n was curled into his side, sound asleep in an awfully uncomfortable position. How tired did she have to be to sleep like that? Almost sitting up.

Azriel turned his head to look at him, his expression almost saying ‘I have no idea how I got here.’ He held a fist up to his face, fighting back a laugh, and ignoring his glare. He stalked over towards the duo, ignoring Az’s glare as he shook y/n’s shoulder.

“Stop holding him hostage.” He watched as her eyes opened, half lidded with sleep.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, hand coming up to hide a yawn.

Azriel moved his arm away, even if he seemed reluctant to do so, and he pushed back her shoulders so she’d actually lay down. “I don’t want to hear any complaints if your back hurts tomorrow.”

“Fuck off.” She yanked the blankets back over her, burrowing down into the pillows. It took barely a minute before she was sound asleep again, her breaths evening out, mouth slightly parted in sleep. Peaceful, she looked so peaceful, even with the bags still lining her eyes like horrible bruises.

Azriel tapped his shoulder, and he realized he’d been staring for a while. They quietly left, gently shutting the door closed behind them.

“You’ve gone soft.” He told the other male after they were out of earshot.

“I was just … comforting her, and she fell asleep.”

“Must be really tired, then.”

“She said she’s having nightmares.”

Mother above, Cassian wanted to storm the autumn court and bring her back that asshole’s head as a gift. In fact, he’d been debating it for the last few days - but, if anything it would distress her further. Y/n’s never been a violent person, in contrast to the rest of the inner circle. A good contrast. She thought he’d been training her more just to keep her from ‘hiding,’ but his mind was swirling with what else could’ve gone wrong, and if she would have been able to defend herself. Or why she threw herself in whole heartedly, pushing herself harder than ever.

“She’s been more ...” Cassian pressed his lips into a tightline, glancing behind him to make sure y/n wasn’t behind. “Dedicated, training wise.”

“I know.” Azriel replied quietly. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else they didn’t know.

Her tattoo pricked at her as she opened the third letter in the past month. Addressed from her friend, like the last two, but something was different about this one - her name written differently, a small curve to the letters.

Her eyes scanned the page, picking out the key phrases.

I miss the fun we had. I know how much you enjoyed yourself.

You must, should visit at your earliest convenience.

There was only a general threatening atmosphere to the words - nothing outwardly against her safety. Only him … reminiscing on the past events, in uncomfortable detail. Harmless, she decided, even if her subconscious screamed against her. No pain ripped through her magic, also some guilt crept into her at the feeling - she was hiding it, using a loophole to get out of the agreement, not honoring the spirit of it.

With a low exhale, she justified it to herself, no need to worry the two of them - they were busy enough as is. Besides, she couldn’t trust them to keep their cool. The guilt would multiply if she knew violence was brought to her friend's doorway. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and crumpled the paper - shoving it in a drawer and reminding herself to burn it later. It was dark, the sun already dipped below the horizon - only vague rays of pink and purple peeking up past the horizon. Her stomach grumbled, loud enough she snorted. That’s a clear signal she needs to grab something to eat.

She slipped out her door, closing it behind her with a gentle snick. She kept her footsteps as silent as she could as she trailed down the hallway, but she heard … moans - and groans coming from Azriel’s room. Did he have someone over? A small tinge of hurt filled her - not that he was hers, or she had any claim to him. Or Cassian. Why had her mind gone to both of them? “Ridiculous,” she quietly chided herself. She could manage to walk by the room, keep her eyes set right ahead - no need to look at the door or pause, she wouldn’t be nosy.

Her feet moved quickly, and she spotted the cracked open door in her peripheral, cursing him. Eyes forward, right ahead. No need to look.

But, she made the mistake of looking at the window, figuring it would be harmless.

Her mouth parted in shock as she saw Cassian, pressed back against Azriel who had one arm wrapped around his front - palming him through the leather pants. They were both shirtless, muscles toned and gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Azriel’s other hand was fisted in the General’s hair, their lips crashing together in a violent and passionate kiss.

She hadn’t realized she was staring, arousal starting to creep into her, until a shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and his head snapped towards her. Cassian quickly followed, and she let out a small yelp - going bug eyed and taking off down the hall. She was not supposed to see that. Not at all … Mother above they need to close the damned door. Arousal flickered through her as she paused at the end of the hall - way out of range, bracing her hand against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the feeling. She couldn’t want them. They were perfectly unavailable, and together, at least in some sense.

Did Rhys and Mor know? She wouldn’t be the one to tell them. Her mind flashed with more images;

Azriel panting as Cassian knelt in front of him. Azriel hauling him to his feet - throwing him over the side of the bed …

“Stop it.” She muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and darting her gaze around the hall. No one to witness, good. She couldn’t remember why she left her room, but she wouldn’t be returning for a while.

It shouldn’t have, but getting caught - and by her, and feeling her arousal from the brief moments she watched them … it spurred him on, sent him deeper into that state of building pleasure.

She didn’t know they already knew she was there. Azriel wanted to see how long it took for her to say something, or if they’d have to act first.

“We should invite her back.” Cassian said, bruised lips frowning.

“Do you want to scare her off?” Azriel asked incredulously. They had actual albeit vague plans for this. To come in stages, how to trigger various emotions in her.

“No.” He muttered, entwining his hair at the nape of Azriel’s neck.

“Good boy” Azriel teased and his friend grunted, throwing a half-hearted punch his way. Cassian stiffened under his hand. “You like that?” His teeth nipped at his neck as his hand slipped under his waistband.

“Do we talk to her about it?” Cassian asked, an hour later - hair messed, cheeks flushed, one hand braced on the doorframe.

Az propped himself up from where he was still laying in bed. “Let her dream about it.”

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