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leclerc-hs · 6 months

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can't get you outta my head - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends to lovers!) summary: in which you and charles are in the same friend group and find solace in one another OR you and charles fuck and can’t forget about it warnings: smut under the cut! oral (f-receiving!), outdoor sex, p in v, angst, pining, badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 5.4k! (lengthy) author’s note: IN HONOR OF HITTING 1,600 FOLLOWERS I AM POSTING THIS TODAY!!!! double-postings today!!! i wrote this SOOO fast so sorry if there’s any mistakes. loved writing it tho and i know i was going to make it more enemies originally but making him softer and cutesy just felt right for now. i can always do another one if you guys want!! just let me know what you think! love hearing from you guys!!! xoxo

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BENEATH THE BRILLIANT canopy of the sun’s golden embrace, you recline comfortably upon the plush cushions of the lounge chairs, creating a sanctuary of comfort amidst the vast expanse of sand. Around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures unfold: vibrant beach towels strewn around carelessly, the glistening ocean stretching endlessly before you, and the verdant palm trees swaying in rhythmic cadence against the bright blue sky.

The sound of the ocean’s embrace upon the sandy shoreline murmurs in the background, a subtle undercurrent beneath the symphony of voices of your friends that fills the air. Your gaze drifts towards a cluster of your friends cavorting in the embrace of the water. Their figures, silhouetted against the shimmering expanse of the ocean, exude a carefree vitality. Like playful spirits unleashed, they tumble and wrestle amidst the crash of the waves, their laughter echoing.

You smile softly listening to a few of the girl’s banter over last night’s drunken escapades, flipping a page of the cheap magazine you purchased earlier.

“Joris a pratiquement mange de la merde hier soir.” Joris practically ate shit last night. Your best friend, also Joris’s girlfriend, to the left of you says in between laughter, as you all careen over with a laugh.

“Au moins, il va bien.” At least he’s fine. You say with a soft smile, turning another page of your magazine. “Can we talk about Antoine shooting a firecracker out of his ass?” The words spark an immediate eruption of laughter, tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the sheer hilarity of the memory.

“Qu’est-ce qui est si drôle?” What’s so funny?

You turn your head and find yourself locking eyes with a pair of captivating green. In that moment, your heart skips a small beat, and a soft smile graces your lips as you gaze warmly at him. “Making fun of Joris and Antoine, bien sûr.” Of course.

A smile plays at the corner of his pink lips, and you can’t help but envy their perfect hue. You can’t help but notice the subtle dimples that grace Charles’ cheeks as he smiles. Did he always have those? With a casual grace, he raises a hand to scratch the side of his stubble before reaching for a towel casually draped over your lounge chair. As he leans over, droplets of water cascade onto your warm skin, a gentle reminder of the ocean’s embrace. You steal a moment to admire the bronzed glow of his skin, the sunlight dancing upon the small beads of water that cling to his sculpted muscles with a tantalizing allure.

A peculiar aura envelops the relationship between you and Charles. You didn’t speak often, although you were in the same friend group, and have known each other for forever. However, in the recent weeks, a shift has occurred. Perhaps it’s the shared experience of a newfound singleness has drawn you closer together, prompting conversations to flow more freely than ever before.

A delicate blush creeps onto your cheeks, a fleeting flush of warmth that you hope goes unnoticed against the backdrop of your sun-kissed skin. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as Charles’s fingers brush lightly against your shoulders while the grabs the towel, igniting a subtle spark between you two.

“Allons-nous au club ce soir?” Are we going to the club tonight? One of your guy friends asks, sinking onto a sandy towel with a groan as he collapses onto the soft grains.

For a moment, maybe a few seconds, silence hangs in the air. As if each person is lost in contemplation, weighing the prospect of the evening’s plans. Then, in a synchronous chorus, a resounding chorus of “yes” erupts from the group, breaking the silence with unanimous enthusiasm.

You remain silent, immersed in the pages of a trash magazine, each turn revealing scandalous tales that undoubtedly blur the lines between fact and fiction. Charles watches you intently from his position in the beach chair across from you, though not directly opposite. Positioned slightly to the right, his gaze lingers on you with a subtle curiosity, his expression betraying a hint of contemplation as he observes you amidst the circle of friends. Always in your own world.

“Lovie, tu participes?” Are you in? Your best friend beside you seems to notice your lack of response. Her arms stretch across the gap between your chairs, and she gently squeezes your wrist, a silent gesture of reassurance and solidarity.

Lovie. You don’t exactly know why you got that nickname, but it stuck. And it carried over to most of the friend group calling you that since childhood.

You lifted your head up, the sun beading down on you causing your eyes to slightly crinkle, as you gave her a look that said duh!

Your friends smile widens as she claps her hands together, her excitement palpable as she sits up from her previously relaxed position. Her enthusiasm is infectious, casting a warm glow over the group as they all eagerly cheer in happiness with her. “Mon dieu!” Thank God! It was a squeal of relief. “Maybe you’ll meet a sexy man and fall in love and have his babies so you can forget all about that loser.”

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of your ex. The smile on your lip’s falters just slightly, but you quickly regain composure, determined not to show a hint of sadness surface while on vacation with your friends. With a subtle effort, you smooth away the brief flicker of vulnerability, masking it beneath a façade of cheerful resilience.

You roll your eyes, “Nous verrons.” We’ll see. Your tone carries a hint of mystery as you look back into your magazine, letting the conversation of your friends flow into a different direction.

“Es-tu sûre que tu devrais en prendre unautre?” Are you sure you should have another? Joris says into your ear, making sure you’re able to hear him over the pulse of the music, his arm slung over the back of the booth behind you. You lean into his body, a drunken smile pulled on your lips.

He harbored a slight concern for you. While you were his girlfriend’s best friend, your friendship dated back to childhood, long before his relationship with her, and he held you in high regard. His care for you ran deep, and ever since your break-up, he knows that you haven’t been the same.

“Arrête de t’inquiéter pour moi.” Stop worrying about me. You shove his shoulder gently, before pointing to your best friend on the dance floor. “Inquiéte-toi pour elle.” Worry about her.

You let out a soft laugh as you witness Joris’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his girlfriend standing on the stage. With a knowing smile, you begin to slide out of the booth with intent to make your way to the bar, sensing the need for a fresh drink to accompany the unfolding spectacle.

Before you can even slide out of the booth, a fresh drink—scratch that, a refill of your drink, is placed in front of you. Your gaze follows the masculine hand holding the glass, adorned with an expensive watch at the wrist, tracing its path up the arm until your gaze meets Charles’ intense stare. His eyes, dark and captivating, lock onto yours, already filled with questions and a silent understanding.

You slide back over, silently signaling him to sit beside you. As he eases into the spot beside you, the proximity of his body sends a shiver down your spin, the heat radiating from him igniting a primal longing within you. Your bare skin tingles with anticipation as his presence fills the air with an electric charge, a silent dance of desire playing out between you in the dimly lit confines of the booth.

In the midst of the pulsating club music, words between you two remained scarce. Yet, you both found solace in the quiet companionship that enveloped you both. The energy of the club swirled around you, but the warmth of each other’s presence, you felt a profound sense of ease settle, much like a comforting blanket.

It wasn’t unnoticeable to the rest of the friend group. In fact, it was very noticeable. The way you and Charles seemed to find a connection with one another, especially post break-ups.

It’s not that you were never friends, you just were never as close. So it came as a slight surprise to a few of your friends as they picked up the little changes that were made.

Like when Charles refills your drinks for you. Or when he notices that there is coconut in your meal, which you’re very allergic to, and sends it back to the kitchen.

Like when you remind him to put on sunscreen, knowing he tends to burn easily. Or when you find yourselves sitting out by the fire at night, long after everyone went to sleep, just talking about the most random things.

“The CGI in that movie was terrible!”

“It’s a classic! You can’t hate a classic!”

“That doesn’t make the CGI better!”

“I’ll have you know I’m a culinary expert.”

“Charles, I’ve known you for forever. Don’t lie!”

“I’m an innovator! Who else could turn pasta into charcoal with such ease?”

No matter the topic at hand, you and Charles always found yourselves engulfed in laughter, the gentle sound filling the air with warmth and camaraderie.

You didn’t want sadness to cloud your vacation, but sometimes emotions have a way of washing over you like relentless waves. One of the evenings, while your friends made plans to dine out, you made the wise choice to stay in. Although you didn’t want to miss out, you felt that you were not in the right mindset to be out with everyone. Some protested your decision, expressing concern, but you assured them that you would be fine on your own and ready to party it up all day tomorrow.

Charles shot you a funny look as he slid his hands into one of his pockets, leaning casually against the kitchen archway. His white linen shirt, barely buttoned and snug against his muscles, accentuated his tan, making it seem even more vibrant against the stark contrast of the fabric. A single glance from him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you as you perched on the bar-stool chair, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. It was your ex-boyfriend’s shirt, a garment you should have long discarded, but its comfort proved too irresistible to part with. Despite the pang of guilt that tugged at your conscience, you found solace in its familiar embrace, a reminder of the past you couldn’t quite let go of yet.

The villa you currently stayed in was beautiful. Its whitewashed walls and wrought-iron accents blended modern and luxury all in one. Inside, the warm glow of the setting sunbathed the spacious rooms, casting an ethereal orange hue over the abundance of white and wood-colored furniture. As the click of the front door echoed through the villa, the chatter of your friends faded into near silence as they departed for dinner, leaving you alone in complete silence.

You find yourself eventually nestled in the corner of the oversized couch, cocooned in the warmth of a fluffy blanket draped over your body. With the television remote in hand, you flip through the channels, searching for something to capture your interest. Nothing quite grabs your attention, until you stumble upon a cheesy rom-com you’ve seen hundreds of times.

Lost in a trance, you’re oblivious to the world around you, the gentle breeze whispering through the open windows. The creak of the front door opening barely registers, and it’s only when Charles’ silhouette materializes in the archway beside the TV that you snap back to reality. A soft smile tugs at the corners of Charles’ lips as he gazes upon you, nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. His heart skips a beat at the sight of you, at the sight of your eyes looking at him with such softness.

“Que fais-tu de retour?” What are you doing back?

He shrugs nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall’s archway and making his way toward you. With an easy grace, he plops down beside you, propping one leg up on another couch cushion and allowing his shoulder and head to half-lean against you.

You both settle in a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie filling the air around you with a comforting ambiance.

“Penses-tu jamais que tu le surpasseras?” Do you ever think you’ll get over him?

The words send your stomach into a frenzy of somersaults, and a tightness forms in your throat, making it difficult to swallow.

You don’t answer immediately, instead you stare ahead at the television, your fingers fumbling with the fabric of the blanket nervously.

“Je l’espère.” I hope so.

His eyes are solemn as you look at him. “Parfois,” Sometimes. He begins, straightening his posture so he can fully look at you. “I think I’ll never get over her.”

His words hang heavily in the air, and though they sting a bit, you understand. You share the same sentiment.

“Mais toi,” But you. His hand reaches to yours, the one fumbling with your thigh. His eyes dart between both of yours, like he’s struggling to formulate his next words. “You just,” He starts before squeezing your hand in his. “You just make my days feel easier.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “My pain, my heartache, just disappears whenever I’m with you.” Your voice is soft as you speak the words. The truth of them daunting.

“Sometimes I just wish I could turn my emotions off.” You say, unwrapping the blanket from your body, so that it only sits underneath you now. “Like I could just fuck someone and move on.”

Charles’ eyes widen slightly as the word ‘fuck’ slips past your lips. He nearly lets out an audible groan, his eyes tracing the contours of your collarbones peeking out from the oversized shirt that slips tantalizingly of your shoulder.

He licks his lips, swallowing a pronounced gulp, as his eyes trail back to your face.

“Yeah.”

You could feel the tension in the air, like the both of you were considering fucking each other here and now. Charles couldn’t escape the thoughts of spreading you out on the cushions right here, spreading your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

As he locks eyes with you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, your thighs clenching involuntarily as his gaze lingers on your lips. You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter another word, a loud burst of commotion erupts through the front door. No doubt your drunken friends, clamoring for the fire pit.

You and Charles find yourselves in an awkward dance since then. Not too awkward, but the idea of you fucking each other escaped neither of your minds.

It was honestly twisted. The fact that Charles couldn’t stop picturing what you would look like beneath him, what your moans would sound like in his ear. He had fucked his fist twice to the though of you since he even heard the word ‘fuck’ slip past your lips on the couch the other night. It was honestly pathetic.

You couldn’t handle it either it seems. You found your eyes lingering on Charles way longer than necessary. The flex of his muscles as he enjoys a morning workout by the villa’s pool, the small smiles he gives you from across the room, and the small touches he gives as he walks by you has you driving yourself up a fucking wall.

So, when your friends decide to head out for a spa day, you and Charles hang back sitting across from one another a tad too far apart on the outdoor couch for it to be normal. It was as if you needed the space to stop from jumping each other’s bones.

The skimpy red bikini you wore did little to ease Charles’ thoughts. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the first time in weeks he isn’t thinking about his ex-girlfriend. No, he’s too engrossed in the idea of fucking you. Hearing your sweet little moans he just knows you would have. Feeling your smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingertips.

Charles could feel himself harden just by glancing at you lounging comfortably on the outdoor couch, the clouds covering the sun engulfing you guys in a moment of shade.

Across the couch from him, you tried to do everything but acknowledge Charles’ longing stare. But you couldn’t. Your body was all tense, in need of a release.

“Charles, will you—”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Charles was standing over your figure on the couch. His hardened cock visibly noticeable in his short swimsuit. The muscles of his thighs flexed before you, as he visibly gulped at the vision of your breasts spilling out of the top.

“Assieds-toi droit.” Sit up. He murmurs softly, his voice carrying a gentle command as he shifts, prompting you to straighten your posture.

Was this really about to happen? You really hoped so.

It was as if Charles can see the desire in your eyes, answering the question of if you wanted this in his head almost instantly.

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” Can I kiss you? His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, tracing it as he licked his own.

You nodded your head before his lips pressed down onto yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it firmly near your scalp as he deepened the kiss, igniting a surge of warmth and longing between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pressing it hotly against yours. He pulls away for a moment, still standing above your sitting figure, as he takes in your blown out pupils.

“Ça a un gout si doux.” Tastes so sweet. His hand remains in your hair, holding your head in place to look at him. His eyes stare at your sightly swollen lips, a clench of need forming in the pit of his stomach.

He falls to his knees before you on the couch, kneeling between your two legs, as his other hand presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back against the cushions of the couch. The sun peeped through the clouds momentarily, allowing you to drink in the sight of just how light his eyes were.

His thumb grazes your bikini cladded core, rubbing light circles in a teasing manner. The pressure of his thumb wasn’t enough, but it was everything you needed.

He looked at you from between your legs, a smirk on his face like he knew just how crazy he was driving you. It was an image you never wanted to forget.

“Touch me.” You begged, a breathy moan leaving your lips as his thumb pressed harder onto your swollen clit.

It was all he needed to hear before sliding your bikini bottoms to the side and shoving his tongue to where you needed him most. The cool air of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the heat you felt between your legs.

He took his time with you, like he wanted to savor every sweet moan you gave him. His tongue flicked around your clit a few times, before wrapping his lips around it. Your hand slid into his brown locks, slightly lightened form the sun over vacation, and pulled as you rutted your hips against his face.

“Mm, that’s it,” He groaned into your cunt, his words vibrating against you, sending your hips into a faster frenzy. He slipped two fingers into you, lifting his head to watch as you lulled your head back against the cushion and took your hands from his head to your breasts. You stretched the bikini top slightly, until your breasts spilled over the tiny triangles, your nipples already hardened from the need that burned within you.

Charles slipped one hand up to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching.

“M’god,” You half-shouted, biting your lip to prevent yourself for being too loud.

“Don’t deprive me from your sweet little moans, yeah?” He pulled his lips off your clit for a few seconds, giving you ample time to look at them glistening in you. You nearly came at the sight of it.

He dropped his head back between your legs, flicking fast kitten licks to your clit, which had you careening forward with a cry of pleasure.

He sucked hard on your clit, eliciting loud mewls from you that were like a sweet melody to his ears. Charles could feel his cock straining against the tightness of his swim suit, he flexed his hips into the couch before him, in need of some sort of relief.

He could feel you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, shoving his face deeper into you, his tongue slipping in and out of you at a fervent pace. It hit you hard. Your hips had a mind of their own, as they rode his face, the bony structure of his nose pressing against your clit sending you into a frenzy.

Charles replaced his tongue with his fingers and watched as you came down from your high. His fingers still working you over as he coaxed you through your orgasm, not letting up.

“I knew you would taste like heaven,” He smirks, finally removing his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth, and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

You groaned, your pupils blown out as you looked at him, your legs still spread and cunt fully exposed to him and the outside air.

“Need more,” You practically begged.

“Need my cock, hm?” You nodded, wasted no time in answering. He pushed himself up from his knees, sitting beside you on the couch as he pushed his swimsuit down enough to free his cock. It was hot and heavy in your hands as you reached for it, precum already dripping from its tip.

You straddled his waist, raising up just enough for him to slip his cock into your already saturated core. Your hands grip the back of the couch behind Charles’ head, your fingers clenching it tightly as you take in each inch of him. His hands grip your waist, large fingers sprayed across as he guides your movements over his cock.

The squeeze of your cunt on his cock was better than Charles could ever imagine. The fact that he had to use his fist before you was honestly a punishment compared to this.

“Mon dieu,” My God. You groan as his cock stretches your walls. You waste no time in working yourself over his cock, the pleasure of it too good for you to do it slow. You chased that second orgasm as it teetered on the edge. You were already so close.

“That close already?” His smirk was permanent on his face as he flexed his hips up into you, hitting you deeper than before.

You nodded, soft mewls escaping your lips constantly. It was as if you couldn’t shut up now. His hands grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to look up at the sky, as he pulls one of your hardened nipples in between his teeth.

You didn’t have time to tell him you were coming again, but the clench of your walls on his cock was enough of a warning for him. Your walls fluttered around him repeatedly, as his name fell softly from your lips followed with a string of curses.

As if he couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer, he lifted you up off him and placed you to the side, his hot cum spilling over his cock and stomach in stringy spurts. Your body was limp against the cushion, your bathing suit covering nothing.

Still hazy from your climax, you look from the blue cloudy sky to Charles beside you. His eyes were glossy as he smiled, like he was fully content.

“Merci,” Thank you. You said softly, an acknowledgment for him giving you what you mentioned the other night.

He nodded once, giving a small smile as if to say thank you back.

It’s been weeks since you and Charles fucked on the outdoor couch of the vacation villa. You haven’t seen each other much since, not that you expected it. You were thankful it helped you forget about your ex-boyfriend just a little bit more. Like you could bare the idea of meeting other men. Which you were.

You claimed that Charles was a one-time thing. Although it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had, you knew you couldn’t do it again. It was a mutual one-time thing.

So, when you found yourself pressed against the bathroom door of the five-star restaurant, your short little sundress bunched up at your waist, and Charles’ cock buried deep in your cunt, it was a little unexpected. Not completely.

It was hard and quick, nothing but a string of breathy moans between you two as he pressed your chest forward into the door. You both came quickly, your chest flushed red and his cheeks slightly pink as if he just performed a hard workout.

“Who’s your date?” He asks, the words slip out fast, like he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You furrow your eyebrow for a second, before looking at yourself in the mirror, Charles standing tall behind your figure. “Just met him last night,” You flattened your hair as much as you could to make it seem normal. “I’m trying to get back out there.”

Charles smiles at you, although it seems slightly pained. “Good. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve you.” His words were kind, and it made you smile that he even bothered to say it.

“I should get back,” You begin, turning to face him. His eyes look at your lips one last time, like he’s contemplating kissing you again. “I’ll see you next week at Joris’s, right?”

He gave you a small nod.

Charles Leclerc is a liar.

Well, a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you sexually. The way you feel around his cock. The way your breathy moans turn him on to no end. The way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock. The taste of your cunt on his lips.

He’s a liar if he says he doesn’t fuck his fist almost every night to the thought of you.

But he was also a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you not sexually. The way you loved to read trashy magazines, the way you always fidgeted with the rings on your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes glowed whenever you laughed.

So, when Joris mentions you and a new potential boyfriend, he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the idea. The clench of Charles’ jaw at the sight of you and this ‘potential boyfriend’ across the yard at baby shower, does not slip past Joris’s eyesight.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two?

Charles clutches the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers, bringing it to his lips, before straying his eyes from you to Joris beside him.

Charles’ eyes gleamed like he didn’t know how to answer this without admitting feelings he hasn’t even admitted to himself. He shook his head. No. Because there wasn’t.

“Vous étiez proches en vacances.” You guys were close on vacation.

It was just a statement, as if he wanted to see Charles’ reaction. Charles didn’t know if Joris was trying to insinuate anything, but Charles didn’t respond. Not as Joris’s girlfriend, your best friend, popped up behind you both, a tray of cupcakes in her hand.

You sat across the yard, deep in conversation with Theo, at one of the many heavily decorated picnic tables. The short purple sundress that adorned your body is a vision of effortless elegance. Delicate straps grace the shoulders, framing your breasts with a feminine charm. The skirt flows gently with every movement, swaying gracefully in the warm breeze.

You both knew it wasn’t anything serious, at least yet, but he had a way of making you smile, nonetheless. Despite only knowing each other for a few weeks and sharing a handful of dates, he made a point to take his time with you. He was considerate, never pressuring you into anything, especially after you had confided in him about your previous messy relationship one night.

“Tu es belle.” You’re beautiful. Theo whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the fabric at the ends of your dress, resting right above your knees.

You blushed, your cheeks flaring a light shade of red, as you smiled into your lap. You lifted your head slightly, looking across the yard, where your eyes met with Charles. His eyes already watching you with such heat in his eyes it made your stomach do a somersault.

He felt an intense surge of resentment towards the guy who dared to lay his hands on you, his anger boiling as he watched him lean into whisper into your ear. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson under his gaze, betraying the effect of his words. What could he possibly be saying to you?

It was just his cock you were coming around last week. So, why is this fiery sense of jealousy threatening to consume him entirely?

It didn’t make sense. How could he feel such intense jealousy over someone he never even had a real relationship with? He never even felt this jealous over his ex-girlfriend.

It was just sex.

He told himself repeatedly. It was just sex. But it only made the burn in his chest only grow more.

You were a liar if you said that Charles Leclerc is never on your mind. You were a liar if you said that it was just sex.

Because, for some inexplicable reason, you can’t seem to get Charles Leclerc out of your mind. You remember how he made sure none of your dishes contained coconut, how he bought you those trashy magazines he knew you loved so much, and how he always made sure that you were smiling.

So, when Charles Leclerc stood silhouetted in the doorway of your front door, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him in the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.

You took note of his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times, and the soft grey sweats that hung loosely on his hips. The taut muscles of his arms peeked out against the seams of the black t-shirt he wore.

“Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi.” I can’t stop thinking about you. He utters the words with a look of anguish etched on his face, each step carefully navigating around your figure as he stands in the foyer of your apartment, a space he’s been in countless times over the years. But never alone. Never without friends.

You close the door and turn to look at him, not realizing just how close he was to you. “It’s like you,” he begins but freezes, taking a step closer toward you. You take a step back, the tight tank top you wore did little to hide your hardened nipples from the cold air, and your back hit the front door. “It’s like you possess every thought I have. Every single thought. You. You. You.”

You sucked in a breath as you looked into his eyes, more darkened than normal, almost as if he was angry at you.

“Qu’est-ce que tu m’as fait?” What did you do to me? His fingers trail up your arm to your collarbones, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake.

You gulp audibly, your lips slightly parted from the feel of his fingertips on your skin for the first time in weeks. You struggle to find the words until Charles is pleading.

He laughs slightly sarcastic, like he can’t believe this is happening to him. “I even bought those trashy magazines that you like so much, a whole stack of them at my place, because I cannot get you out of my fucking head.”

“Dit moi, it’s not just me.” Tell me.

You would be a liar if you said it’s just him. Your hands trail up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing them in comfort as you stare into his eyes. His breaths getting heavier as your fingers trail his t-shirt classes skin, like he was yearning for it so much, like it burned him.

“It’s not just you.”

He doesn’t give you time to say much more, not until his lips are crashing down onto yours again. Like he couldn’t last one more second without your lips pressed to his.

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chlorinecake · 3 months

Note

It's sad you haven't written that much for sunoo

𐙚 — 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 | 𝐤.𝐬𝐧

▹ PAIRING: boyfriend ! sunoo x girlfriend ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: While on a picnic date with your boyfriend in honor of your one year anniversary together, things take an unexpected turn as one simple touch leads to another...

▹ WARNINGS: TOUCH DEPRIVED SUNOO who can't help but leave marks all over your neck and thighs, fluff mixed with super messy smut, fingering + oral (f. r), handjob, protected sex (love that for them), tit and spit play, exhibitionism, mentions of food

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.5k

“You brought ice cream to our picnic date in the summer?”

“Yes... and you wrote me a love letter,” Sunoo replied frankly, the gentle park breeze blowing his wavy bangs to the side of his face slightly... “of course I appreciate the gesture, baby, but why go through all that trouble of trying to hide it from me?”

His question made a memory resurface in the back of your mind.

One from earlier this morning when you threw a pillow at his face in an attempt to sneak away with the letter undetected.

Not one of your best moments, you'll admit, but he took it lightly anyways, laughing off the confusion your strange behavior brought about...

“You weren’t supposed to come back home til tomorrow, Sunoo, and I wanted to surprise you…” your voice trailed off just as your boyfriend rested his hand at your thigh, caressing the flesh in a soothing manner…

“I wanted to make it more special,” you went on, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the way he suddenly tilted his head at you, almost as if cooing at your worried confession.

“____… what could be more special than a letter with your sweet kisses all over it?” Sunoo asked, gaze falling to your lips for a second before his eyes flicked back up, displaying his comforting smile.

“Just open it already,” you whined playfully, making your boyfriend giggle a bit at your impatience.

“Wait, I wanna guess what’s inside first!” He paused excitedly, looking to the clouds as he sat in thought…

“Hmm,” Sunoo hummed, feeling through the envelope with his fingers to see if it'd give him any clues… “are these... condoms?!!”

“What!? No! Why would I give you such a thing!?” You laughed out loud, giving the park a brief scan to see if anyone was around to have heard your boyfriend's wild revelation.

“Relax, ____... nobody’s watching the romantic couple on their picnic date,” Sunoo reassured with a light-hearted chuckle, running his hand a little higher on your thigh this time, making your breath hitch slightly.

What was getting into him today?...

“Righttt... so it’s just us and the trees now, huh?” You asked sarcastically, just as a random hiker came walking up the trail a few feet behind you two.

“Yup!” Sunoo answered confidently, letting his touch leave your skin, “just us, the trees... and no protection…”

Tear ˎˊ˗ ...

Sunoo tore open the triangular flap that once sealed the envelope, opening the paper-pocket to reveal a set of tiny squares poking back at him…

“Wow,” his voice started, a feigned shock to his tone, “you must really wanna take me raw after this…”

“Oh my God, you’re being such a slut today,” you whisper-yelled, smacking his shoulder playfully before taking the envelope from his grasp, shaking out the contents into his open palm.

“They’re P o l a r o i d s,” you enunciated slowly, “of us, baby...” you continued with a smile, watching as he brought each photo to his face, one by one to examine them...

“Aww,” Sunoo pouted, feeling his own heart warm up at the burst of memories. “Thank you, love… this is such a sweet anniversary gift,” he said, leaning forward to hug you, his weight accidentally overtaking you to the point where your back fell against the picnic mat with a soft thud.

It wasn't unusual for Sunoo to underestimate his strength, especially whenever he got excited and wanted to show you his affection... still, it's something that he always felt bad about doing...

“____, I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to...” your boyfriend's initially apologetic voice trailed off, all thanks to the mistakably erotic sound that slipped past your lips while caged beneath him.

“S-Sunoo… it's okay,” you stammered nervously, feeling his thigh brush up against your core as he adjusted him position, a small wet spot from your soaked panties now marking his jeans.

You couldn't think of anything to say, especially not with the way your sundress was hiked up now, putting your hips and bottom on full display.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you were met with the wet sight yourself now, Sunoo’s flexed thigh doing nothing but make things worse for the ache growing inside you...

“T-that's not what I think it is... right?”

Your boyfriend's voice came out quietly as a delayed silence followed right after, his eyes staying fixed on you as you raised to sit on your knees now.

You put a hand to his chest, pushing his back against the picnic mat now before leaning on top of him and whispering, “Stop staring and just kiss me already…”

Sunoo almost couldn't believe those words had left your mouth so smoothly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with anticipation as his eyes fell back to your lips.

Your gorgeous, kissable lips...

“And if anyone sees us?” He asked with a slight rasp to his voice, eyes sparkling beneath the sunlight as you traced the side of his face with a finger...

“Then they can cry about it…”

That's all it took before you two started kissing, both of your eyes fluttering shut as gentle sounds of pleasure were exchanged by the tips of your tongues.

You felt one of his hands find the side of your face and drift down to your neck, his touch gripping just enough at your throat for the pressure to be noticeable, but not overwhelming.

“Been wanting to do this since we got here,” Sunoo groaned, a little weak yet heavy at the end as you broke away from the kiss, meeting his eyes with your own lovestruck ones as you noticed his touch wandered lower, pulling your sundress over the curve of your hips again, tugging at your panties.

“Wanna get these off of you so bad, baby,” your boyfriend said breathlessly, your legs wasted no time in moving just enough for him to slip your panties down and toss them.

“Much better,” you hummed, letting your lips find his again in an even more hungry kiss than before as you felt his fingers ghost over your folds, circling your clit in a way that had you twitching almost instantly.

Something about the way he kissed you in this moment was so raw and greedy, a bit of spit dribbling down the side of both your mouths, only for you two to take turns licking it back up with your tongues.

And he was gathering so much of your slick on his fingers, too, making your clit throb with need as he kept toying with it, your hips subconsciously rocking against his fingers as you grew closer and closer.

“You're making such a mess of me, Sunoo,” you said in between kissing him, his mouth traveling to your neck where he sucked even harder against your flesh, groaning against your skin.

“Can't help it when you taste so sweet, love,” is all he managed to say before rolling you over on your back and taking dominance again, your body being sprawled out face-up on the picnic mat as he started to pepper kisses down from your jaw, to your tits, before finally reaching your swollen cunt.

You couldn't help but close your thighs around his head, even though it was only a matter of time before he forced them open again, taking a break to finger your pussy while marking the expanse of your thighs, holding intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Could play with your pussy all day, baby,” he mumbled against you, moving from your thigh to lick a stripe up the middle of your core, “might have to beg me to stop...”

“F-fuck,” you cried out, arching your back at the way your core trembled thanks to his skilled fingers curling inside you, “I'm so close, baby...”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, looking you straight in the eye again while still fucking you with his digits, “gonna cream on my fingers, baby?... clench that pretty pussy as you cum for me?”

A string of desperate yes's spilled from your lips only to get caught in your throat, your teary eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt yourself release from the inside out, shaking from the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

“That's it baby... let it all out,” Sunoo cooed, fingers not ceasing in fucking your hole until you reached your hand down to stop his wrist from moving.

Sunoo just stared at you for a second... and even though he knew you hated when he did that, he couldn't help it. You just looked so beautiful to him right now. Cheeks a flushed hue from your orgasm, covered in his marks from your chest to your thighs...

Using his free hand, Sunoo reach for the picnic basket, digging under a few things before pulling out a shiny gold package.

A condom.

“Babe, you... you planned this?” You asked with a glint of amusement to your voice, body still moving in slow-motion as you recovered from your first orgasm.

“Hey, don't judge me,” he smiled softly, tossing the condom in the middle of you two as he got started with unbuckling his pants, “you can put it on me, if you like...”

Timidly, you crawled towards your boyfriend on all fours, thankful to God that you didn't flinch once his dick sprung out from the confines of his boxers, nearly hitting you in the face given how hard it was.

Still, there was something about the subtle look of shock on your face that made Sunoo feel good about himself, reaching out a hand to caress your head as you tried opening the package with your nails.

“Just use your teeth, love,” Sunoo suggested, just as you took the plastic in your mouth, tearing it away with ease.

Pulling out the ring of rubber, you aligned it over his tip first, sliding it down in a stroking motion.

It doesn't take long before you have the whole condom slid down his shaft, but your ministrations don't stop there.

You kept pumping him in long, drawn out movements, experimenting with pressures and slightly escalating the speed with each stroke.

And it didn’t take long before he started moaning all loud and shamelessly, biting his lip with slightly screwed brows as you continued to jerk his cock in your hand, caressing his thigh with your free hand to help him relax.

“Sh-shit,” Sunoo cursed beneath his breath, eyes glued to the way you fisting his length, your hickey-stained cleavage coming into view as your sundress fell further down your shoulders with gravity.

The whole sight was just so intoxicating to him, especially coupled with the sensation of your fingers wrapped around him.

It was only a matter of time before you had him coming undone, filling the condom with his load as you started to stroke him more slowly now, somehow craving his dick even more.

He was a panting mess, pretty chest heaving beneath his shirt as you sat up on your knees now, crawling over to straddle his lap.

His lust-ridden eyes watched you the entire time, too, pants still lazily hanging around his thighs as you untied the bow keeping the top of your sundress together, revealing almost your full chest to him.

He didn’t hesitate to start groping your chest, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands as you humped against his lap, sliding your slick folds over his wrapped dick and shivering from the returned stimulation.

You moaned at his actions, clinging onto your boyfriend’s shirt at the sudden feeling of his tip prodding at your entrance.

“God, I need to be inside you so bad, ____... need to feel you taking me nice and slow...” Sunoo practically mewled against your lips, the desperation of words making your pussy clench around nothing.

You let your hips grind against his length even faster now, despite how you both were extremely sensitive at this point.

You didn’t expect one fleeting kiss to get you here… a slimy, moaning mess in your boyfriend's lap all in the middle of nature… but you were too far gone to turn back now, and besides… something about the risk of being caught like this was a turn on for you, anyways…

Reaching down for his dick, you let the head find your hole again before slowly feeling him slide past your ridged walls, shaky sighs coming from both your lips now…

You two stayed like that for a few moments, too, simply basking in each other’s closeness until you got ready to move, Sunoo’s delicate hands resting at your hips, eventually guiding your speed.

“S-Sunoo,” you started weakly, thighs trembling at the way his tip grazed your sweet spot as he rocked you back and forth against him, “we’re not gonna last very long in a state like this…”

Your sultry words sounded like fuzz in his brain for a second, his body being too pleasure drunk to focus on anything other than the way your perfect pussy was taking him.

You kept your hands secure at his shoulders, grinding against him the best your tired legs could manage as his lips connected to the skin below your ear, speaking the feathery words: “Might as well make it worth it, then…”

That's when your boyfriend let his back fall against the picnic mat, releasing his grip from your hips, only to find your hands instead, connecting you both by your latticed fingers.

His pelvis snapped up to help you both reach your highs faster, your chest heaving with emotions as you gasped at the feeling of his cock plunging inside you so well, a mere matter of seconds passing before your orgasms hit you both like a crashing wave.

Sweet mmm's and ahh's of pleasure left both your squirming bodies, Sunoo's thighs twitching beneath you as your walls clenched down on his length, your climax taking it's sweet time to leave you.

You felt his cum slowly fill up the condom from inside you, gentle pants escaping his swollen lips as your hands stayed intertwined, eyes slightly teary beneath the shining sun.

“I can't believe we just did that in public,” you sighed, lifting your hips from his to free yourself from the stimulation, helping yourself to removing the now filled rubber from your boyfriend's dick and tossing it in a picnic napkin.

Sunoo smiled at your choice of words before sitting back up to readjust his pants, still feeling a bit wobbly in his movements after everything that just happened.

“And I'm more than open to doing this again,” he said, crawling towards you on the mat to help re-tie the bow at the top of your dress, “… and again, and again, and again...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you chuckled with a smile, watching his hands finish up each bow before he creating a small distance between you, placing the picnic basket in the center of the mat and flipping open it's lid, his hair slightly disheveled as he asked, “In the mood for some ice cream soup?”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 𐙚 | To the anon at the very top of this post, I hope you enjoyed what I came up for with for everyone’s favorite sunny boy !! That is, if you ever happen to cross paths with my blog again >< !!

TAGLIST 𐙚 | @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr + link to my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested !!

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asumofwords · 6 months

Text

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband.

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement.

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven.

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily.

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe.

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him.

Need him.

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony.

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been.

A Valaryian.

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware.

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully.

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers.

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body.

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband.

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours.

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare.

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother.

And so the ceremony began.

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago.

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced, “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen.

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table.

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement.

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in.

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand.

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her.

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it.

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear.

You swallowed thickly.

Of course you did.

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more.

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.”

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup.

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.”

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice.

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin.

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage.

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that.

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come.

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him.

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose.

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth.

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond.

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes.

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke.

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.”

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?”

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended.

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it.

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony.

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother.

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet.

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony.

Your blood ran cold.

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother.

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince.

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy.

Almost.

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin.

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head.

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down.

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him.

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips.

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning.

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him.

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors.

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you.

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before.

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room.

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone.

Your heart skipped in your chest.

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision.

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck.

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly.

Angrily.

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear.

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him.

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips.

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help.

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to.

But no help came.

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word.

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin.

You would not show weakness.

You would be strong.

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent.

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness.

But he didn’t.

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid.

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers.

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.”

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled.

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.”

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed.

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave.

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him.

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly.

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan.

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks.

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound.

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements.

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience.

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement.

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?”

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down.

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before.

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched.

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face.

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded.

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides.

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had.

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open.

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above.

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.”

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you.

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing.

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear.

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck.

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once.

It was overwhelming.

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust.

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering.

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him.

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat.

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?”

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed.

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside.

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face.

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt.

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole.

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you.

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades.

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you.

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer.

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given.

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer.

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought.

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man.

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him.

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge.

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant.

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial.

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more.

It was wrong.

But Gods did you need it.

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner.

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up.

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed.

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest.

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done.

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly.

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.”

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine.

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one.

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 3 months

Text

Veni, Vidi, Vici | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: Things finally come to a head following the last of Michael's exams | Word Count: 3.2k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, virginity loss, somewhat tipsy sex

Part One : Quid Pro Quo Part Two : Carpe Diem

A:N: let's just ignore the fact this has been in my drafts since December 😘 And yes, I didn't come the first time either, it happens okkkk. Sorry if this is all over the place, I wrote half of it like four months ago and the other half last week soo

Every single time she saw his username pop up on her computer, an involuntary smile spread across her face, and warmth pooled in her belly with the memory of that evening still fresh in her mind. She isn’t quite sure what she enjoys remembering more, his flushed cheeks and glasses askew or the way he was trying to adjust his cargo trousers to somewhat hide his erection by the end of their second tryst.

After that short interaction though, she was surprised at his restraint, if not a bit impressed. She’d at least managed to avoid the irresistible pull of his company in time to finish the last of her exams. And as for Michael, were it not for the odd text message or the ‘active’ icon next to his username in MSN, she would have thought he dropped off the face of the planet.

Part of her can imagine him now, bent over his desk, twirling a pencil between his fingers, mind working like freshly-oiled cogs and pushing his glasses up his nose. Completely concentrated. And yet, he was still on his computer, with the application open, as if to test his own restraint.

And to be fair to him, he never cracked, not once. For the entire time since their last meeting and now, he never messaged.

With her own exams out of her way, she spent most of her time with Priya (albeit at the pub, with glasses of wine emptied as well as the details of every meeting she’d had with Michael Gavey).

“Oh my god, as if you are into nerdy little white boys!” she laughed with a cigarette perched between her two fingers and proclaimed far too loudly so that the entire pub heard.

“Shut u-” she retorted with a slap to her arm, “besides, not so little, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s like I hardly know you. I love it.”

“Stop it,” she retorts, sitting back in her chair with a flush to her face, “he's genuinely nice.”

“That's not what I heard,” Priya snorts, “I hear he had a hissy fit on like the first day ‘cos someone wouldn't ask him a sum.”

“He's very passionate.”

“Hm,” she widened her eyes, “let’s hope it translates.”

She presses her lips together to keep herself from smiling. Watching Priya’s mind tick will never get old.

“Oh my fucking god, is he a v-”

“Yes, Priya!”

She gasps in mock surprise, “you absolute gremlin. So you've not…?”

“Not yet,” she replies with a shake of her head, “told him we could after he's done his exams.”

“And you're making him wait for it? I had no idea you were so cruel.”

She shrugs, biting back a smile as her eyes drop to the table. Excitement bubbling in her belly.

Priya leans in, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "So, spill it then. What's the plan for the big night?"

She chuckles nervously, swirling the remnants of her wine in her glass. "I don't know, Priya. I've never been in this position before. It's like uncharted territory."

Priya's eyes widen with exaggerated shock. “My queen of confidence, feeling nervous? This I have to see."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a playful glint in them. "Oh, shut up. It's different when it's someone you actually like."

Priya nods understandingly, but then her expression turns mischievous. "Well, just remember to relax and enjoy yourself. And if all else fails, there's always wine."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Thanks, Priya. I appreciate the pep talk."

Priya grins, raising her glass. "To new adventures and nerdy white boys!"

As they continue chatting, her phone buzzes with a new message. She glances down at the screen, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. Priya notices her reaction and nudges her playfully. "Ooh, speak of the devil?"

She nods, trying to suppress her smile as she reads the message. "Yeah, he's just about to go in for his exam."

Priya winks suggestively. "Maybe he's hoping for a sneak preview of what's to come? You know, for luck.”

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes, typing off a quick reply of good luck, “remind me to never tell you personal shit ever again.”

“Mate, it's the suit. You're gonna see him in it and jump his di-”

“Priya!”

“What?!”

She should have known better really that wine tends to have this loosening effect on Priya. And she'd barely finished her own glass before it was time to hop off and meet Michael after his very last exam. It was the perfect day for it, with the sun blaring, everyone was in a good mood, with an electrifying and exciting atmosphere light in the breeze.

As she waited with the other groups of friends waiting to cheer on the examinees, she felt that pleasant roll of nerves in her stomach, biting her lip to contain her smile.

She thought that with some level of embarrassment, she was really really falling for this guy. Or this ‘nerdy, white boy’ as Priya so eloquently put it.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling when she saw his lanky, suit clad form saunter out of the exam hall. Her chest ached pleasantly when he hopefully scanned the crowd, watching others join their friends in celebration. And for a moment, she thought she detected the slightest hint of fomo.

But nothing compared to when he finally spotted her.

Though Michael tried to hide it, a thin lipped smile spread across his face, fiddling with the cap he held in his palms, looking down as if to hide his expression.

Her hands found the front of his suit, affectionately running over the material, “Hey. You look nice.”

He nearly rolled his eyes, “can't wait to get out of it. Too hot for this.”

The excited squealing and shouting stole both of their attention for a moment, particularly Michael's. He glanced sideways at the Felix Catton, with his newest toy, smiling and laughing without a care in the world.

She furrowed her brows, patting his chest, “who's that?”

Michael blinked behind his glasses, throat bobbing as he remained quiet for a moment, “No-one. Come on, let's go.”

As they settled by the tranquil riverbank, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop, they both relaxed into the moment. The weight of the exam stress began to lift, replaced by the lightness of shared laughter and companionship.

Sitting side by side, their feet dangling over the edge, they clinked their bottles together in a silent toast before taking refreshing sips. The sun cast a warm glow over them, painting the scene with hues of gold and amber.

Leaning back on their hands, they watched as birds soared overhead, their graceful movements adding to the serenity of the afternoon. Occasionally, a playful breeze would ruffle their hair, prompting soft chuckles and playful swats.

“So, have you decided yet?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, “what?”

He fiddled with his tie that he'd long taken off in somewhat of a nervous gesture, “it’s been 142 minutes.”

She furrowed her brows, trying not to look amused, “since what?”

He chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. “You said you'd consider being my girlfriend after exams.”

Her smile widened, a fondness evident in her gaze. “Oh, that? Well, I guess it's been 142 minutes too long then, hasn't it?”

She could see the way he was trying not to look too relieved. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. “But only if you promise to stop counting the minutes.”

He cocked his head, a breathy laugh falling from between his lips, a faint flush rising to his cheeks at the brief moment of contact. “No can do.”

She hummed a laugh, the lightness of the situation making her stomach flip, “Are the Carol Vorderman posters non-negotiable too?”

He threw his head up to the sky, “Fucking christ, I don’t have-”

“I know! I know!”

Had Michael seen himself months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined it, walking back to his dorm with a half-empty stomach and the alcohol to replace it with a tipsy waddle, and a girl’s hand closed in his, swinging at their sides.

Whereas campus was usually rife with busy students, toing and froing between the library, lectures and their dorms, today was calm, clear. And it felt as if for once, Michael could loosen the reins on the anticipation that had been building in preparation for his exams, and relax into the soothing company she offered.

She laughed as he tripped over the threshold to his room, the tiniest drop of fruity cider still at the bottom of her bottle. Michael flushed and immediately went to unbutton his shirt, looking somewhat apprehensive.

“Leave it on, if you want,” she smiled coyly, watching the way a blush crept up his neck, his wide blue eyes beneath the frames of his glasses all shy with anticipation.

“...you sure?”

She nodded immediately, trying to calm his nerves. Though she could hardly blame him, she'd felt the same flutters in her belly when it was her first time. She was sure he was no different.

“Course, looks good on you anyway,” she mused, her fingers gently swatting his hand away playfully to undo only the top few buttons. Michael shivered at her touch there, sending waves of pleasurable nerves through his body.

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in, and as she set her bottle down on the desk, she couldn't help but lean in to press one, two, tipsy kisses to his neck. If she could see his face, his eyes had long since slipped shut, lips parted as if not knowing what on earth to say.

“I've…never done this before.”

“It's okay,” she whispered, breath hot on his skin, “I'll look after you.”

The cheeky smile she gave him made his heart almost stop dead in his chest. But his confession, and her calm receiving of it, seemed to bridge the gap between them, and when she turned her head to look at him, he captured the surprised gasp between his lips, and worked up the courage he'd built the last two trysts of intimacy into this one tender moment.

It was gentle at first, hesitant. But as their mutual desire overcame their initial shyness, it deepened in no time.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, careful fingers threading up over his nap to the sandy, blonde hair that had formed a subtle wave from the humidity. His own hands settled on her waist, pulling their bodies flush. And the softness of her lips and the anticipation of his hands drifting lower to the hem of her dress, had his stomach doing backflips.

They moved to the bed by sheer instinct, their kisses growing more urgent as she gently pushed him down and straddled his lap, all while his hands roamed her back, waist and lower towards her thighs, exploring the contours and curves of her body above him.

She pulled back slightly, her own face flushed from heat, feeling his hardness already between her legs where she was placed on top of him, “trust me, okay?”

Michael nodded, the bob of his throat betraying how nervous he was, “I do...”

She smiled, her own confidence calming his nerves, and guided his hands to the straps of her dress, showing without words that there was nothing beneath it. Michael himself let out a strained whimper when her hand crept up his thigh, and massaged his erection through his suit trousers, squeezing up his shaft to the sensitive tip.

“We can do it like this, if you prefer..” she whispered, wanting to do things the way he wanted for his first time.

He nodded, looking up at her with an expression that said everything, relief, “yeah, please..”

Her hands were tender and slow, undoing the heavy buckle of his belt and popping the button, each movement making the air feel hot in his chest. And emboldened by their intimacy, his own hands slid up her thighs, rolling the hem of her dress up to her hips, sighing against her lips and smirking when she whined at his grip.

“Fuck-”

It was her turn to grin when she finally wrapped her hand around him, pulling him from the confines of his boxers and teasing him with her touch. His eyes dared to look between them, at her slender fingers around his cock, drawing both delicious pleasure and sending sparks up his spine.

Her hips lowered, to grind herself on his length, and Michael nearly lost it there and then, even thinking about being inside her. To be honest, it was part of the reason he wanted to stay clothed, because he'd finish too quickly if he saw her completely naked.

“You okay?” She asked with a pleased smile, knowing her answer without needing an answer.

“Y-yeah…do I need…”

“It's up to you,” she reassured, “I'm clean, and I'm on the pill so…”

He nodded, secretly a little mortified at the idea of having his first time without protection on his part. It had always been drilled into him that, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, but the knowledge that she was careful, made him feel better about it.

“Do you want me like this?” She asked quietly, her lips at his jaw, pressing tiny gentle kisses, “me on top.”

“Yeah, yeah…”, Michael nodded quickly, his hands tightening at her hips. In truth he just wanted to do it, too wound tight and excited to care about the position.

She shuffled closer, trailing her lips down his neck as she pulled her underwear to one side. Truthfully the alcohol, as little as it was, had made her a bit needy for him the second he walked out of the exam hall. And being his first time, it was probably just as well he didn't feel the need to prepare her, assuming it'd be overwhelming for him.

Slowly she lowered herself onto him, the initial stretch stealing the air from her lungs for a moment. She could feel his breath come in ragged gasps. His grip tighten. And as soon as she felt him tense, she stopped and let him decide when he wanted to continue.

She was so warm and tight around him, Michael couldn't help at first but think it was uncomfortable. But once he took a breath, he could feel her silky walls envelop him, closing in with a desperate hold. It was hard to stay still. And that initial discomfort ebbed into relaxation.

She was about to ask if he was okay, but she let out a strained moan, as his hands pushed her hips down to meet his as he pushed up, pulling her on top of him so that she was flush to his body.

Her hands held him tight, he felt utterly different inside her than she had imagined. The stretch of him was a pleasurable pain at first, but once she'd relaxed and adjusted around him, after months of no sex, she felt herself grind on him slightly.

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

She smiled at that, leaning up to face him, “you okay?..”

“God, yeah, very okay-” he manages.

“Do you want me to-”

“Can I…” he asks, “please.”

“Y-yeah-”

His hand slipped behind her neck, tugging her lips down to his, while the other slid down her back, pushing her down on him to meet him halfway with every tentative thrust into her. From this position, with her chest nearly flush to his, her breasts rippling over the top of her dress rhythmically, she could feel him deeper. And the sensation had her unable to form any coherent thought.

She knew he wouldn't last long. Judging by the way he was moaning lowly against her lips and how his hips stuttered as they moved.

She also didn't expect any kind of orgasm from the experience, fully wanting it to just be comfortable for Michael and nothing else. But when he pulls her down, his hands snaking around her waist tightly, and the cooling sensation on his glasses against her shoulder as he buries his head there, she finds that, whether he intended to or not, he brushes against her sweet spot.

Michael groans as she tightens around him slightly, each push inside of her fuels the numb, simmering sparks of an orgasm, slowly building, and she is powerless to stop it.

“Fffuck-”

And yet she can feel him losing momentum. He's worn himself out too early she can tell. So pushing herself off his chest, she sits up on top of him and does the work herself. Her thighs burn and she feels a bit self conscious being in full view like this, but it feels too good for her to care. She grinds her hips down on his length, looking down at Michael and watching his appreciative expression, his glasses skewed slightly.

His jaw goes slack at the renewed pace, and his hands remain on her waist as he throws his head back, brows furrowed, the tell tale sign he's nearly there. So concentrated on moving on top of him, she knows she won't come, but it still feels nice nonetheless.

And as she pushes her hips backwards and forwards on him, nudging her sweet spot more forcefully, she cries out, causing Michael to look down between them and watch the way he disappears inside of her, moist bodies slapping together.

“Oh fuck, fuck, I'm-”

Michael would be ashamed to say how much he's touched himself to the thought of that first night with her, when she knelt between his legs in the common room. Of course, it felt good. But finishing inside her, with her smooth, velvety walls sucking him in, fluttering around him, feels so entirely different. It's like being on another planet.

His hips give a few final mini thrusts up into her, before he stills, riding out his high and letting himself descend from heaven. He is only brought back, when she leans down to kiss his neck, trailing up to his jaw.

“You okay?...” She asks, her voice ragged and quiet.

Michael swallows through breaths he sucks in, “yeah…” he answers simply, glancing up at her and smiling through foggy lenses. “You?”

She laughs breathily, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest, “More than okay.”

“Even though you didn't…?”

“Don't worry about me. Tonight was for you,” she smiles, sliding off him to his side, and pulling her dress down slightly. “You did great, you know.”

He chuckles, tucking himself away, slinging an arm around her, “guess all that practice watching Countdown paid off.”

She snorts a laugh at that, the atmosphere lifting, “yeah, remind me to send Carol Vordermann an official thank you.”

Michael grins, feeling more relaxed now. "You think she'd respond? Maybe send me an autograph for my wall?"

She laughs, nudging him playfully. "Oh, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know she had such a positive impact on your life.” she smiles at him, tucking herself beneath the covers, “anyway stop talking about other women around me, I get jealous.”

“Sor-ry,” he smirks. Michael's grin widens as he pretends to ponder deeply. "Well, as long as you're teaching, maybe you could help me with all the different positions... in grammar, of course."

She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as he rolls on top of her, her legs parting instinctually. "Oh, absolutely, but I must warn you, I'm very thorough."

Michael replies, voice low and warm, his hand stealing between them both to slide his fingers between her thighs. “Good thing I'm a quick learner then.”

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#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanficiton #michael gavey fic #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey x female #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #saltburn 2023

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javier-pena · 3 months

Text

circumstance

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a stormy night, you’re haunted by a ghost from your past.

Notes: God idk what it is with me and seeing random pictures of Pedro characters that make me go feral. Anyways, wrote this in an hour, hope this is anything. I had Latin in school but I’m not vouching for any of the Latin words in this. I mostly wrote this because I’ve had a vendetta against international bestselling author Robert Harris ever since I was 15 years old. This is loosely based on a scene from his novel Imperium that has been haunting me for almost 20 years now. Also based on this post by @ozarkthedog.

***

There’s war. Outside the city, the land is burning. Behind the city walls, life goes on as it always has. There’s decadence and dissipation and life. That’s your part of the story. That’s all you’ve ever known. The comfort and the safety. That’s all you’ve ever needed to feel fulfilled.

During the night, when the city quiets down, when the people return to their homes and the public life ceases, you can sometimes hear it, like a storm brewing over the distant sea, like the rumbling of a volcano miles and miles away, taking deep breaths before spewing its fiery death. On clear nights, nights free of clouds and wind, nights where the air is so heavy it feels like a blanket weighing you down, you can even see it, the light from the battlefield, the glow of a carnage that swallows everything, even itself.

This night isn’t clear at all. This night brought rain and hail and thunder so violent it shakes the foundations of your house. You’re alone, reclining on your triclinium, too drained from dinner to move much. The storm promised some reprieve from the muggy summer air, but the heat is worse now than it was this afternoon. The wine you had with your meal, the glass in front of you now refilled a third time, combined with the weather makes your head feel like it has been wrapped in wool. Even breathing seems laborious.

But there are footsteps against mosaic floors, and footsteps mean visitors and visitors mean business. Business at such a late hour is never a good sign. With a groan you stand, with a sigh you straighten your tunic, and then the footsteps are drowned by a clap of thunder so loud you flinch.

What follows it is not the sight of one of your servants or even your husband. In the gloomy darkness that always follows a flash of lightning a shadow moves into the room, and when your eyes have adjusted to the dim lights of the lucernae all around you, you flinch again, this time with cause.

A man is standing before you, looking like the slain ghost of a soldier from the battlefield nearby. He is covered in dirt and grime, wet from the rain, wet from the blood he has recently spilled. His armor looks black in the darkness, and your eyes flicker to his side in trepidation only to discover that he’s still wearing his sword. He’s still wearing his sword, going against the rules of your house, the rules of your husband.

“Where is he?” the stranger asks, his voice deep and dangerous like the thunder outside.

You could play dumb, you could act like you don’t know who he’s talking about, but in that voice you discover something familiar, like a memory of a distant dream, never quite forgotten.

“He isn’t here,” you reply. “He might come back later, but he’s with the senate.”

The man steps closer, quick strides that take him right to the foot of your triclinium. You step backward until you reach its head, trying to put the piece of furniture between the two of you. Your hands are clammy.

“Good,” the stranger answers with a twitch of his lips that’s all too familiar for all the wrong reasons. “I promised you I’d be back for you, and I always keep my promises.”

There’s a doorway behind you leading through a small peristyle straight to your husband’s tablinum. You glance at the court, at the shrubs and flowers and fountains that you know are there but that are currently hidden by curtains of rain and darkness.

“Don’t –,” the stranger starts, but it comes too late.

You turn and run, skip down the two steps from the porch into the garden itself, your feet splashing into puddles as you run and run. Heavy footfalls behind you, heavy breathing, and a heaviness in your heart, calling back to a similar moment years ago that happened on such a different day full of laughter and sunshine and secret kisses exchanged in secret corners.

You reach the doorway to the tablinum. “Stop!” you bellow, and to your surprise he does. To your surprise, this works, and you don’t know what to do with that. “What do you want, Acacius?” you ask, your heart growing even heavier when you name him.

“You know what I want,” he answers, the rain loudly hammering against his armor, the water dousing his hair, making his curls stick to his forehead. “I came back to collect what you owe me.”

“We were children,” you remind him.

He’s up the steps faster than you can say those three words, the years between now and that summer afternoon seemingly having left no traces.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he growls, the storm raging over the city reflected in his eyes.

You step backwards into the tablinum, one hand protectively slung across your stomach. “You should leave, Acacius. I have nothing more to say to you.”

But there is only so far you can go before your back connects with your husband’s writing desk. And once it does there is nowhere for you to run to.

“I don’t need you to say anything.” His face is cast in shadows now, but when another flash lights up the night sky, you see that his expression is completely blank. “I just need you to lift up those expensive skirts of yours and let me take what’s mine.”

“Go back to that battlefield of yours,” you reply. “Go back and defend Rome like you’re supposed to. Or are you too much of a coward still?”

You should have known he would not take that kindly, should have known that provoking him wouldn’t make him leave. But when you feel his cold, wet hand wrapped around your wrist, when you’re being yanked into his chest, turned around, and shoved up against the desk, it still catches you by surprise. Some part of you, the one that never left that sunny afternoon, didn’t think he’d have it in him. Another part wanted him to.

His body presses into you with such force the desk scrapes against the stone floor with a creak loud enough to be heard over the storm. The sound that cannot be heard is the gasp you let out when he pushes up your tunic, exposing your legs to the humid night air.

“Don’t –,” you start.

He shushes you, one dirty finger touching your lips. You can smell the storm and the blood on him. He can feel your shaky breath.

“Just this once,” he mumbles into your hair.

Maybe you should fight this, but you don’t know how. He kicks your feet apart, and maybe you should kick back, connect your heel to his shin, and run. He bites the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder, and maybe you should bite his finger that is now resting against your lips while the rest of his hand is wrapped around your chin and throat, bite down hard until the bone cracks. He runs his other hand down your backside and pushes it between your legs, groaning at the warmth and wetness he finds there, and maybe you should use this moment of weakness to climb across the desk and search for something to defend yourself with.

All of it passes and you do nothing. All of it passes and you push backward against him, sucking his finger in between your lips. He pulls it out of your mouth, grabs the hair at the back of your neck, and pushes your head down toward the desk, your shoulders straining in protest. The groan you let loose is read as defiance by him.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hisses. “Just …”

He trails off and at first you don’t know why but then the hand at the back of your neck is gone and you sigh with relief, a sound that turns into something less human when he pushes two fingers into you.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

“Please …,” you try again, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for.

There’s a rustling sound behind you, leather and fabric being moved frantically, and then his fingers are gone, replaced by something thick and heavy spreading you open. You lift yourself up on the tips of your toes, trying to adjust, trying to lessen the burn, but he digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you back down, right onto him.

“Stay,” he orders. “Just … just take it.”

His words are slurred now, and your vision is blurry, your eyes wet from biting your lip so hard you can taste blood on your tongue. He rocks into you, and your nails scrape against the wood of your husband’s desk, leaving marks in their wake. But you do as you’re told.

“That’s better.” He bites your shoulder again and you gasp from the sudden burst of pain, gasp from the way you constrict around him in response. He laughs, a rumbling like thunder, then pushes your upper body against the wood, holding you down, one hand in your hair, the other firmly locking your hip in place.

Another bolt of lightning must have illuminated your face, turned sideways for him to see the trepidation in your eyes because he says, “Don’t cry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

You don’t know how to tell him that you’re not crying because you’re afraid of him. You’re crying because you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way, the last time sex wasn’t just a duty you had to fulfill but something someone wanted from you, and just from you, so much so he would abandon his duty to take what’s his. You don’t know how to tell him you’re terrified of what that discovery might mean for you and your marriage, how you’re hoping your husband is going to walk in right this very moment and free you from the bonds that bind you to him.

Acacius starts to lose control of his body then. He’s pushing himself up deeper and deeper into you, groaning louder with each thrust. You know those sounds, dread them when they’re coming from your husband, encourage them now with desperate whimpers of your own. He grips your hair again, pulls you up flush against his chest so hard you yelp with pain, fumbles with your tunic until he finds that bundle of nerves between your legs that he loved to kiss when you were both free to enjoy each other’s company. But it’s just for a brief moment he considers your pleasure before hitting the desk with his open palm, holding onto the wood, and letting go.

You close your eyes, waiting. It doesn’t take long for him to let out a sigh, to still deep inside of you. You can feel him twitch, you feel his hot release, but most of all you feel the sting of a promise broken. Your whole body is on edge, wound up, pulled taut, and there is nothing he’s going to do about it.

When he’s done, he pulls out of you and lets your tunic fall down around your legs. You turn to face him, your cheeks burning with shame, but his face is once again hidden behind all those shadows that come with a starless night.

“You wanted to take good care of me,” you point out, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I just did,” he says, running his thumb from the corner of his mouth along his bottom lip. “You’re mine now. Leave that between your legs for him to find.”

“Acacius …,” you try, a name once so familiar then so strange now growing familiar again.

He crowds you against the desk, chest to chest this time, and wraps his thick fingers around your throat. The kiss he presses to your lips is hard, devoid of all tenderness. “Mine,” he repeats. “Never forget that.” And then he’s nothing more than heavy footsteps against mosaic floors.

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #aksjdhfjsdf it is what it is #i'm gonna go hide now hahahahah

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minhosimthings · 3 months

Text

The Fallen One || 18+

Synopsis: For the final day of the pact, you find yourself intoxicated by the man you've yearned for, forever.

Pairings: detective!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: smut minors Dni, fingering, cock riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex (not for you), reader has like three orgasms?, Jay's just really obsessed, Fluffy in the end, swearing, mention of food and alcohol, final fuck you to Heeseung yay

A/N: I haven't been able to carry out with my og plot in this fic because I, like an idiot, forgot I included bondage and i just wrote everything and now I neither have the heart nor the energy to write anything else, so to all my babies who wanted bondage, there's a fic in my wips for y'all. Anywho I had fun working on this series! Thank you for all the support that got me through writing everything and I hope next time my brain remembers to write WHAT WAS INTENDED IN THE FIRST PLACE-

Series Masterlist

Jay's calloused fingers nudged a mauve hued record back into its place, near and tidy on an oak shelf slightly shorter than him. His eyes travelled to another section of the shelf, where his hands picked up an olive green record, silently sitting at the back, overshadowed by the bright blues that surrounded it.

His mouth stretched into a thin quiet smile as he gently took the vinyl out, admiring its sleek look in the faint light of his bedroom, before he set it to it's position on his record player. Picking up his glass of dark red wine, Jay toyed with the sharp needle of the nostalgia emitting record player, before setting it onto the spinning vinyl.

The sound of stiff bones cracking was heard as he plopped down on his armchair near the warm fireplace, wine in hand, with hypnotising music playing in the background. Sipping his wine, he stared at the fire place, watching as every flame danced to the music, some did the tango, while some did the ballet.

Don't think about her, he thought to himself, anything but her.

Jay sighed heavily to himself as he twirled the last remnants of the wine in his glass, he had no idea how fast he had drunk it. He could hear rain pattering away mercilessly outside whilst the hours ticked away as he waited for tomorrow to come and whisk him away.

The second sigh of the evening dropped seethingly from his mouth as his eyes fluttered over to the picture frames on the wall. He smiled as he ran his eyes over the memories of old, forever remembered in hues and colours, lest they ever leave his mind.

A picture of him and his parents stood proud next to a ridiculous picture of him, Sunghoon and Jake standing next to a lake. He laughed as he recalled how they had fell into the murky water that day, pushing each other in, until everything ended in dirty clothes and raucous laughter. Another picture stood rather drab next to the bright coloured photos of Jay with his boss, recieving an award. The picture was dusty, as if it has been avoided by Jay when he was cleaning it.

Jay's eyes paused at the dust spiders on the picture and he walked near it, peering to see the picture that was held inside the carved frame.

Him, a woman and Heeseung, with smiles imprinted on your faces, against a backdrop of what looked like a school building. Jay gently took the picture of of the wall, it slid easily off the wallpaper, and set it down on the table. If anyone had asked him later on for how long he had stared at it with confused thoughts, he'd have responded with a confused look.

If only she had chosen me, he thought, if only....

The third exhausted sigh came as Jay realised he should probably sleeping, glancing at the clock to notice that it was 3 am in the morning already. He'd only get a few hours of sleep, but something was better was nothing, and for him, three hours of sleep was more than enough. And if it was on his beloved armchair next to a cozy fire? He might as well have announced Christmas dinner.

Jay plopped onto his armchair once more, now folding up his legs to snuggle into the seat, all warm next to the crackling fire, with the sound of rain making him drift off to sleep.

He made sure, by whatever ill will, to glance at the dusty picture he set on the table once more, peer at the intoxicating smile of the woman, and the man next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist protectively. Jay thought his face looked rather sour in the picture, the memories of it were even sourer but dawn was no time to think of them.

And so he went off to sleep at last, fighting off troubled thoughts and an uneasy heart.

If only she had chosen me.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Where did you say Y/N was staying again?" Sunghoon looked up from his pile of paperwork to answer the questioning voice.

"Baker's Street." He answered in his usual condescending voice, "Why do you ask?"

Jay shrugged in response to his friend's question, quickly pretending to be interested in his own pile of paperwork, though Sunghoon was quick to notice the tiny smile dancing on his lips. "Jongsoeng don't tell me you're going to do anything stupid."

"You're telling that to me?" Jay laughed, which came out more like a scoff, "I'll be fine."

"Don't buy her cake like I did." Jake commented from the other side, a pen stuck behind his ear, "Unless you want Mr Fuck Up over there to intervene." He lowered his voice with the last words, glaring towards Heeseung, who was working on the other side of the office.

Jay hadn't exactly been careful all day around Heeseung, treating him normally, though he did make sure to amplify his voice when speaking your name. Such as now, when he had asked Sunghoon where you were staying. He had no intention to make Heeseung jealous or anything. No, he had a firm desire to make Heeseung jealous and angry.

"Jay can I talk to you for a second?"

Speak of the devil.

Jay looked up from his paperwork (quick to change his expression from annoyed to normal) to see Heeseung staring at him with a weird look.

"I need to talk to you." Heeseung repeated, causing Jay to internally cringe. "What about?" Jay asked, to which Heeseung looked around before grabbing Jay's arms and dragging him (against his will) to the empty break room.

"I need to talk about—" Heeseung paused, taking a breath, "—about Y/N."

"What about her?" Jay asked, voice remaining calm, though his knuckles were certainly gripping the edge of the table he leant on, very tightly, "She's doing well, if you wanted to ask."

"Jay come on." Heeseung sighed, "I know about this little pact between you guys and Y/N and–" he fiddled with his fingers, "I know I've had some downs, but I really need to apologise to Y/N. I've ditched Yeo-Hee anyway, and–" he chuckled, "–can we not let bygones be bygones?"

"Bygones be bygones?" Jay let out a cold laugh, the expression on his face was terrifying and though Heeseung wouldn't have admitted it, he was scared, "Since when have you been using that phrase? Since high school I reckon?" Jay laughed again, "Ahh fuck I don't even understand why she even kept up with your cheating ass for so long. Tell me Heeseung," he leaned forward to look Heeseung menacingly in the eye, "Did you ever really love her?"

"Love her?" Heeseung responded, "Of course I love her, she's my wif-"

"Then will you tell her about Ji-ah from the other section or should I?"

"You wouldn't." Heeseung stared Jay down, though he was taller and older than him, he felt as if a hurricane was interrogating him, "Jay you can't. You know she'll never forgive me."

"She shouldn't." Jay laced his words with venom, "She should never forgive a fucking bastard like you."

"Ok fine." Heeseung sighed, "Can you atleast tell her I'm sorry?"

"Tell her yourself, coward." Jay quipped, which perhaps was a mistake, when he looked at Heeseung's angry expression.

"Coward?" Heeseung laughed, "Wouldn't that be more fitting for you, Jongsoeng?" He stepped forward, "If you hadn't been a coward with poor heartbroken 16 year old Y/N, we probably wouldn't be here and I'd be thankful I hadn't ever dated that bitch."

Heeseung couldn't comprehend what has happened in the next few moments. All he could recall if you had asked him now what happened, was a loud thud, his back against a wall, Jay's cat like eyes becoming deadly and Jake and Sunghoon's shocked faces.

"Don't you call her that, you insipid jackass." Jay snarled at the older man, with his hands gripping the collar of Heeseung's shirt tightly, whilst pressing him to the wall, "Don't you ever call her anything less than what you fucking are. A coward, and a cheat." Jay released his grip on Heeseung's shirt with a guffaw, before stepping out of the room, leaving behind an air of tension and fear.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

Your eyes scanned the room nervously, as you eased into the maroon hued armchair. The anxiety you held within you at the moment, was easily captured by the way you were fiddling with your fingers and biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron in your mouth.

It's just Jay, you reminded yourself, the man you've had a crush on since forever, it's just him.

"Keep biting that lip of yours and you're going to lose it." Jay chuckled, walking in with mugs of tea in his hand, "Still haven't lost that habit have you doll?"

"Well with you no longer there to remind me–" you graciously accepted the mug, noting carefully how his fingers brushed against yours, "–its become an addiction."

"Well, I'll make sure to write to you everyday not to bite your lip." He joked, making you laugh. God he looked heavenly, you thought, figure clad in his loose white button up, the one he wore to work, combined with a blue trouser which framed his thighs perfectly.

"You-you look good." You said, in a timid fashion, making Jay look up from his mug and smile at you.

"As do you, doll." He grinned. The cocoons in your stomach erupted into a thousand butterflies at the nickname. It was what he used to call you in high school, mainly to tease you, and partly (or rather secretly) to compliment your beauty.

"Heeseung asked me to apologise to you." Jay chuckled coldly, interrupting your train of thoughts, "Bastard came up to me at work and just bombarded me with requests." He looked up at you before continuing, "He wants you to know that he's broken up with the other girl, Yeo-Hee or whoever."

"Oh." You responded, not exactly knowing what a good response would be, "Well—good, I guess." You said, not adding anything until a few minutes of silence passed, "Does the idiot really think he can get me back with a simple apology?"

"He does." Jay set his mug down on the table, easing into his chair, "If it were me, I'd have written a thousand pages of poetry for you."

"You wouldn't have ever done what he did."

"Wouldn't I?" Jay's eyes perked up at you, shadowed with a kind of darkness you've never seen before.

"No you wouldn't." You responded, "I know you wouldn't, you're too...perfect for that."

"Perfect?" Jay laughed mockingly, "Y/N if I were perfect, we wouldn't be in this situation–" he didn't know where his words were coming from, "–and you'd have never married that fucker!"

Jay's sudden amplified voice made you flinch, you had heard that voice on only one occasion before and it was not a pretty thing to hear at all.

"Jay....."

"I'm sorry." Jay sighed, running his hand through his hair, "This is a mistake–I'll drop you off at home if you don't want this anymore-"

"Oh my God, you're an idiot." You said, stopping Jay's rambling and causing him to look up at you with confused eyes, "Do you really think I'll skip this just because you raised your voice?"

"No I meant–" Jay sighed again, getting up from his armchair suddenly and packing around the room, a habit he had from childhood, "–I know things aren't really sunshine and rainbows between us, and you probably don't feel comfy fucking someone who's been with you since high school so–fuck I'm rambling." He mumbled the last part under his breath, taking a deep breath, before continuing, "Y/N, what I want to say is–I'm sorry." He looked at you again, "I'm sorry for not being good enough for you, but please–" he knelt down in front of you, so you could be at eye level, "–forgive me, if you still can."

"Oh my god you idiotic dunce." You laughed at him, causing his expression to change to one of confusion.

Jay didn't have time to register what happened next, the only feeling his mind knew was the touch of your soft, familiar lips on his, the mere atoms that existed between you, now faded away as you ravaged each other, each attempt to get closer, an attempt of love and confusion.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

"Fuck it." He finally said, grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you towards him for yet another kiss.

He kissed you like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled your flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup your face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have you closer. Jay opened his mouth, causing you to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your mouth moved with his as if it was known to you; As if this was a dance you had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of your lips was a song that Jay had mastered just for you.

"Jay I-" you hesitated for a moment, what if he didn't say it back?, "I love you." His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a tired smile.

"Oh sweetheart," Jay's hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to hear that."

His mouth hesitantly chased yours until you brushed your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips again. His touch was gentle, almost like he wanted to be careful with you. Yet, you wanted to breathe him in—lustfully addicted to the taste of his lips.

His palms laid flat against the curvature of your back whilst your hands grabbed at his collar, pulling him flush against you—the throbbing between your legs did anything but lessen with the close proximity.

Jay had never before tasted something sweeter; your saccharine lips fit so perfectly against his—he was convinced that they were made for him to kiss and caress. His cock stirred in his pants for he could only wonder how divine your cunt would taste on his tongue. Jay needed it all. he trailed his fingers up your front, pinning the fabric of his shirt over your tits. His fingertips dance across your skin as he detached his lips from yours.

"Wait Y/N–" Jay pulled away, leaving you chasing after him, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," You breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips, "Fuck yes I want this."

Jay needed no more words from you as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as you kissed him back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Wait a minute love." Jay mumbled into your ear. Slipping his arms beneath you, he lifted you into his arms, his hands squeezing your ass as you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms round his neck for support. Jay led you to the adjacent room, presumably his bedroom, setting you down with care on his bed.

As soon as you were settled on the mattress, Jay's senses ravaged on you. His hands grabbed your face, pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You could taste the bitterness in his mouth, perhaps from an afternoon shot of bourbon, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your senses. Jay's hands moved down your body, tracing the curves of your hips as he pulled you closer. As Jay's hands continued to explore your body, you couldn't help but sigh. "fuck Jay."

"Shh doll." Jay shushed you, "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Your clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and Jay's lips found your neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. His touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

Soon, he was pushing your underwear to the side, revealing your slick folds to him. The warm atmosphere of the room kissed your cunt with a breeze, eliciting a shallow gasp from you.

"Wet for me already, doll?" Jay smirked, his eyes travelling up and down your body, as if he was a saint worshiping his patron goddess. His low chuckle vibrated throughout your entire being, sending you into that same state you were in when you drank the aphrodisiac at Sunghoon's house. It was pathetic on your part that Jay had managed to get you like this without so much as sticking his fingers in you.

"Jay stop teasing-“ the words die on your tongue and you gasp for air, fingers pulling at his soft locks as he prods his fingers at your entrance. Your cunt sucked him in with ease—his long fingers fucking deep into your pussy. Your hand swiftly gripped the edge of the bedsheet until he placed his hand over yours—gently intertwining your fingers while you arch your back in pleasure.

Jay leaves one final kiss to your lips before leaning back and forcing your knee down with his left hand. He was locked in a trance, watching the way your pussy would gush every time his fingers would pump inside of you. His fingers rapidly disappeared past your folds as you cried out.

Your hands frailly clawed at his wrist, only to be swatted away while he kept his pace—eyes trained on your precious cunt.

With parted lips, you brought your gaze down to glance his fingers as they were buried knuckle-deep inside of you, you couldn’t even hint for him to stop, not that you wanted him to anyway. How could you? With the way he was beginning to curl his fingers forward, pushing against your slick walls, it was nearly impossible to push him away. The feeling alone forced a chain of whimpers from your mouth, only encouraging him to do more.

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, pushing and pulling them out of you with a growing sense of urgency. Eventually, he was leaning down to connect his lips with your nipple before beginning to suck on the sensitive bud with haste.

"Jay—ahhh." You draw out a raspy moan, feeling his tongue circle around your nipple, "Jay I—"

But before you could even finish your sentence, your larynx was screaming out his name like it was gospel, as you came messily all over his fingers. Jay smirked, as he gazed at your beautiful, fucked out face, his dick positively bursting from how much he wanted to absolutely ruin you.

"Eyes on me, doll." Jay commanded, you moved your pupils to face him. He looked absolutely breathtaking, towering above you. You winced as his fingers dug deep into your waist, he lifted you up with ease and propped you on top of him. Your positions were now switched, and you had no idea what to do.

"Go ahead and take my pants off." He told you. You happily obliged, your fingers were practically scrambling to unzip his pants, as you tore them off of his legs, revealing the cause of his earlier bulge. You hum at the sight of his cock, licking your lips as you swipe a thumb over the angry red tip, spreading a bead of precum over it, causing Jay to let out an almost inaudible moan.

"Now—" Jay sighed, hard enough from the feeling of your fingers on his length, "Be a good girl and ride my cock."

Your eyes widened at his words. You were delighted, of course, at the mere prospect of having his dick to yourself. Unfortunately for you, you had no idea how to tell him you didn't know how to do what he wanted you to do.

"I can't." You mumbled underneath your breath, causing Jay to chuckle.

"Speak up sweetheart, I can't hear you."

"I don't know to do it!" You said, more agressively than you had intended to say it. But Jay just laughed again, this time it was more of a mocking one than amused.

"Oh sweetheart." He extended a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, his hand was warmer than your face so you melted into his touch, "Want me to help you?"

You did nothing but simply nod, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly insecure about the fact that your brain was telling you, you've disappointed him.

"What's going on in that brain of yours hmm?" Jay grabbed your hips pulling you down onto his stomach, "Scared, doll?"

"No—no!" You panicked, "It's just that—what if I don't...do it correct?"

"Doll, do you really think I'd be mad at that?" Jay raised a brow at you, which quickly turned into a expression of concern, "Did Heeseung ever do that to you?"

"Sometimes." You mumbled underneath your breath, "He'd get mad at me if I didn't know."

"Fucking bastard." Jay said, his hands gripped your hips tighter, as his eyes wandered all over your body. He couldn't bring himself to even comprehend how Heeseung could have behaved like that with you.

"I-I do know some things." You started, adjusting your body on Jay's stomach, "I know how to—" you paused, "—get on."

You felt your cheeks heat up rapidly as you internally slapped your forehead. Jay chuckled at your embarrassed expression, hands still digging into your hip.

"Alright then." Jay said, freeing his hands from your body, "Go on."

Sighing, Jay lies back down, hips going still. You shift yourself so that your pussy is lined up with his cock, using a hand to brush the tip against your folds, never going further than that. Jay lets out a whimper at the teasing sensation.

"Fuck doll—don't tease..." Jay sighs in pleasure, as you lift yourself up, hands on either of his shoulders. Both of you let out a collective, satisfied moan as you slowly sink down on his length, feeling it stretch open your cunt slow and steady. Jay groaned again as you gripped him tighter to balance yourself. His hands found their way back to your hips.

"shhh." Jay's big hands continued to roam around your body, one landing on the small of your back and the other massaging and cupping your tits. He used his hand on your back to push you down further.

"breathe, love, i'll help you." when you finally sank all the way down onto his cock, when Jay was finally buried balls-deep in your pretty little pussy, it felt so amazing because you were so so full.

No one had ever been so deep inside you. His cock was kissing your cervix, and it had your pussy clenching down on him so tightly that you thought it might be a little hard to move.

“Fuck.” You lift your hips, and slowly ease yourself down again. Lustful whimpers and moans escaped you as you slowly repeated your motions, feeling almost dizzy at the way his big cock was stretching you out. His dick felt so fucking good; hot and throbbing and aching to burst inside you.

Throwing whatever scrap of inhibition you have left, you raise your lower body before roughly slamming your ass back down. The harsh movement makes you cry out in pleasure. You start to move eagerly, not holding back any of your movements.

Once you got started, you couldn't stop the rhythm — up and down up and down up and down — until your vision began to blur from how fucking good it felt. His cock hits deep inside you, stretching out your tight little hole with every bounce.

Jay's view from below you was incredible. tits bouncing, head flung back, and moans pornographic — it was all enough to drive a man mad. he couldn't keep his hands off of you. whether they were gripping at your thighs to keep you warm on his dick, or gripping and pinching at your nipples, or running them over your back hard enough to leave scratch marks, they were constantly in motion — worshipping your beautiful body.

"You're so—fuck—pretty." Jay cooed at you, ignoring the sharp pain on his shoulders with how you were digging your nails into his skin, "be a good doll for me now."

You were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. He had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. You felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

"Fuck doll—" Jay moaned, he was loving the way you were using him for you own pleasure, "G-Good girl, you're a good girl for me aren't you?"

You couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding in for a long time, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. You felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew Jay's shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. You felt one of Jay's hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as you felt a familiar fire burn in your core, edging ever closer as you drove yourself to the end of the tunnel. It didn't help that Jay perked his hips up, practically slamming his tip into the deepest crevices of your pussy and driving you insane as you finally came down.

Your moans grow louder, echoing on the walls as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Gazing at your drunken being, Jay took the opportunity to harshly grab your hips, and bring you down underneath him. Your back hit the mattress roughly, as you felt nothing but his cum still in your walls.

You were awoken out of your cock-drunk stupor by the harmonious taste of Jay's lips, as he kissed you, his hands circling your breasts

His neck muscles strained as he deepened the kiss. You broke the kiss as you looked down at him, your breathing uneven. The low lighting making him look absolutely ravishing. Freshly kissed lips made them redder as his eyes droopy from the lust behind them, looking at you.

"Jay please..." You trailed off, feeling exhausted from the expert riding lesson.

"Please what doll?" Jay chuckles into your neck, his tip teasing your labia. "Jay–need—your cock." You throat out. The room felt like it was spinning at a fast rate as Jay chuckled again. His cologne was like poison to you, wrapping you in tight corridors of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're such a dumb doll for me aren't you?” he prompts, moving closer. He spits into his hand, pumping the moisture over his cock before positioning himself above you. You whimper as his tip touches your labia, he wasn't giving you what you wanted anytime soon, and you were getting impatient.

"Jay—" you say his name like a prayer your tongue had memorised, "—Jay, please..."

"Dumb fucking doll." Jay muttered under his breath, gripping your chin with his two fingers. He went in for a filthy, messy kiss, before you were cry out, the feeling of him pushing into you driving you mad.

Taking his dick between one hand, Jay slapped your ass in the other as he rubbed out the red imprint beginning to spread beneath his fingers. You vulnerably flinched at the feeling, letting a low moan out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Rubbing his sensitive tip against your pussy, he hissed through his teeth at the feeling before lining himself up with your entrance. Holding your hips in his hands, he gripped his fingers on your skin as he pushed himself inside of you between your folds, equally pulling your hips back on his cock, your warmth instantly wrapping around him as your lips parted at the feeling, letting a moan out into the bed.

Waves of pleasure accompany the sting of the stretch, and your eyes flutter as he rocks slowly into you. He’s watching the way his cock splits you open, low grunts coming from deep in his chest. He shifts, one hand pressing on your lower stomach, thumb swirling over your clit. you cry out, head falling back onto the pillows. The other hand lifts one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest.

"Jay–ah-ahh" You moaned loudly, holding onto his biceps and burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand slid in between your bodies, reaching down to your clit and rubbing rough circles, increasing the immense amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

Jay’s thrusting became faster, harder, like a man starved. His grasp on your chin returned to your hips. As Jay rolled back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brought your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. You look beautiful like this, he thought.

Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin, he had been a fool not to have claimed you as his before. His wife, he thought, his and his only. "Ohh fuck!" You whined, feeling Jay's cock drill into you, hitting that perfect spot in your tight cunt. You were powerless underneath him, his balls slapping against your pussy with each thrust, his hands snaking around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist as he pounded into you. He groaned in pleasure, leaning down and softly nibbling your earlobe,

"god, you're fucking amazing." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with increasing intensity. He was merciless, taking what he wanted, dominating your body perfectly.

Jay's fingers dig deeper into my skin as he pounds into you, his dick was slamming against your most sensitive spot with every thrust. His hands slide up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls my head back

"you're gonna look so pretty when you're all full of me, doll," he moans out and grabs your hips tightly with his rough hands, holding you in place as he slams into you.

Jay's hand slides from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing against it in slow, deliberate circles. You moan, your body trembling beneath him as he continues to thrust into you, his thick cock filling you completely.

His fingers move faster, his touch becoming more insistent as he rubs your clit, his movements matching the rhythm of his hips.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with every touch, every thrust. Jay's breath is hot against your ear, his voice husky with desire as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin.

You came hard and threw your eyes back, twisting your body and separating yourself from Jay's mouth in a desperate search for air. His chest was heaving, his skin was flushed and sweaty, your sex was still eagerly sucking the other's length that kept burying itself to the bottom in you, and then leaving and entering again as if it were predestined for that.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Jay moaned loudly, as he felt your pussy suffocate his length, "Fuck—you want my cum sweetheart?"

"Jay—oh fuck!" You gasped loudly, "N-Need your cum–please."

Jay groaned, you saw his Adam's apple protrude in his throat and you gasped, feeling him move slightly in your pussy.

"that's it doll, cum for me, fuck—just like that." He drawled out in a lazy whisper.

Jay rested his forehead on your collarbone and let out several low moans before cumming inside you. After recovering from the orgasm, he stood up again between your legs with a sigh, looked at your union dripping with fluids and came out of you, putting the semen that flowed from your entrance back inside with his fingers, making sure that everything stayed trapped inside you.

A painful emptiness was left in you when Jay slowly pulled out, with a train of curses escaping from his mouth, as he lay down next to you. You both lay in silence, with the only sound being the sound of your laboured breathing.

"So—" Jay broke the silence, "—what now?"

"What now?" You asked the same question back, with a slight chuckle as Jay smiled at you, "Do you want to get up or do you want to stay here for some more time?"

"I'd prefer the latter." He answered, scooting himself closer to you, "Unless you want to take a bath?"

You hummed in response, taking the invite to wrap yourself in his arms. Evidently, neither of you were interested in leaving the bedroom.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too doll."

Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pshazez @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @deobitifull @luvitria @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @hirablackcat @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe @oneheart-break @skzenhalove

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dutiful-wildcraft · 2 months

Text

Restoration Worship

Nikolai x Fat F! Reader Tags: monsterfucking, gargoyles, dubcon, overstimulation, tail sex, anal play, double penetration, squirting, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk. I think thats about it, I think yall should know by now that every reader I write is fat, blacked out and wrote 3K words of gargoyle smut sooo… enjoy!

It had begun as a research effort, a little trip to the cemetery to hopefully procure some interesting insight into a little project she’d been working on for the museum. Eyes scanning over lichen covered graves and cracked mausoleums, words long faded in time.

She’d seen the videos before. Kind strangers brushing away years of decay with a brush and patience. Who would we be without the knowledge from our predecessors after all?

So with a passion for restoration and a need for busy hands she set to work, uncovering gracious prayers and one of the best cookie recipes she’d ever tasted set within the worn stone.

It’s months before she comes across him. He’s a big boy, covered in lichen and the webs of spiders, stone stained heavily from the elements. Sharp claws curl into the pedestal he hunkers on, broad wings curled against his back, stone teeth bared in warning.

Even like this he’s beautiful, strong features carved delicately in tarnished marble.

She’d found her next project.

A decade had passed since death had been at Nikolai’s doorstep, when he’d let the stone take him, closed himself off from the world to rest after an egregious injury. He’d watched over the lowly cemetery with weak eyes, until they too became covered. Until he’d lost himself to the void, consciousness falling into inky blackness as he waited amongst the trees.

That is, until her.

His days had shifted from the chittering of squirrels and bird song to an incessant chatter. A soft english lilt that stirred something in his hazy mind. He likes the english. Past visions of old friends flash in his mind, warm dark skin, cigars, a mask made of bone.

How could he forget?

He strains, willing his senses back to life, listens harder for the soft voice amongst the tombstones.

She talks to the dead, chattering away at graves that will never speak back to her. This graveyard is old, quiet, its occupants long passed over after they stopped burying the dead here, when their loved ones had long passed on themselves.

She asks them questions, makes up stories, tells them about her day. She’s a museum conservator and she brings things back to life all the time. Making them shiny and new, loving them through hard work and careful hands so that others may get to love them too.

And when she’s not talking she’s humming, or singing so off tune that even the birds grumble. But she’s laughing at herself, looking up songs from the years written on the graves and playing those too, a little tune the deceased might be familiar with.

Her voice bounces from grave to grave, and he realizes she’s cleaning them, scrubbing the dirt away and bidding them adieu when her task is finished.

Sweet thing, he muses, wishing he could see her, wishing she would bring him to life too.

His dream comes true on a sunny afternoon, the summer rays warming his stone, waking him just a little more.

She’s close, footsteps rustling the leaves at his feet as she circles him.

“You keep watch don’t you?” she asks him seriously, and she’s right there. So close he can smell her, like blueberries and vanilla sugar, it’d make his mouth water if he could just move.

She speaks again, but he can barely register the words as warm gentle hands clear the infinite dark from his field of view. Brushing away vines and lichen.

“There! That’s better!”

And there she is. A big soft girl, with sweet round cheeks flushed from the heat. He needs to hold her, crush her close and reward her for her kindness, but she’s gone just as quickly, promising to return to clean him properly, and his marble heart warms at the thought. He commits her form to memory, watching her soft braids sway against her back as she leaves.

A longing seeping deep into his marrow as he lets the sleep take him again.

She returns the following weekend, small spray rig and gentle cleaner in hand when she finds him again. She’s mindful, soft hands gently tugging at his limbs to test the durability before ambling her soft body onto his platform. It’s wonderful, to finally feel the heat of another against his skin, and he thinks if the sun weren’t touching him he could come to life now, tackle her into the soft grass and ravish her. He knows she’d be so sweet, whimpering and mewling under his touch.

It would wait for another time.

She works from the top down, soaking him with warm water before scrubbing him with soft bristle brushes. She’s delicate, leaning her soft body against his as she cleans, washing away years of dirt and moss. She scrubs behind his ears, in the bend of his horns, clearing the nests of insects from between his teeth. He revels in the feel of her, soft breasts and belly pressed to his skin, gentle hands stroking over the sensitive margins of his wings. Had he been mobile he’d be purring, with spread wings and stiff cock all over some gentle petting.

He mourns when she leaves, water cooling against his stone as she packs up before nightfall.

But it gives him time to practice.

It takes days, weeks, before he can move under the cover of night, limbs coming to life sluggishly, the world becoming more clear to his dulled senses.

She returns like clockwork, spending the afternoons with him, chatting and humming, leaning against his platform as she eats her lunch.

He can’t move far, just a few movements, but he gets greedy, finally willing his wings to open, letting them stretch pleasantly in the cool night air and freeze there when the sun freezes him again.

She’s a bit startled when she returns, eyeing him with confusion and the broad reptilian wings spread proudly behind his back. Come closer love, they’ve always been this way.

Nevertheless she scrubs those too, warm hands petting over the webbing, ghost along the modified fingers of his wings. He has half a mind to wallow in the night, cover himself in more dirt if only to keep her trips regular. But he knows his time is coming to an end when she dusts away the last leaves from his pedestal.

She has a final rest with him, his sweet keeper perched at his feet as she watches the sun disappear behind the trees.

And finally, finally. As the soft light of the moon kisses his skin, he greets her.

“Hello solnyshka” he purrs, voice low and gravely, amusement crinkling pupil-less eyes, as he watches her nearly jump out of her skin. Scrambling away and whirling to take a look at the massive gargoyle. He can see now, really see, and she’s lovely. Freckles dusting round cheeks, bulky denim and cotton hiding big soft curves underneath.

She’s frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. He stretches, not unlike a cat, trembling slightly with the effort as he spreads his wings, lifts his hands above his head to crack his own spine, shaking away the stiffness from his tired bones. He relaxes again, smiling at her fondly, revealing sharp fangs underneath.

“I’m grateful for your work.” he calls again, taking a slow step off of his platform, clawed feet digging into the earth below. He is truly, his new keeper being the first ray of sun to truly grace his skin in decades. Just the light he needed to wake him from his slumber. He needs to hold her, feel her softness under his claws.

She swallows, clasping trembling hands in front of her.

“I didn’t mean to be a bother, sir”

Sir.

He purrs at the honorific, but why did she think she was a bother? Had she not heard him?

“Not a bother, you’ve “restored” me” he chuckles, “quite well too” he adds looking over his limbs as he eases closer. “Call me Kolya.”

She repeats it, mimicking the accent just right, and being the polite thing she is, she gives him her name in return. It melts in his mouth like sugar, His pretty prize unaware of the hold she’s given him with just her name alone.

“Come here, let me have a look at you”

She hesitates a moment before inching towards him, and he meets her halfway with a long stride, chin to his chest as he looks her up and down. His poor thing is so nervous. Fidgeting under his gaze, pulling, pushing and twisting at the joints of her fingers, desperate to get them to pop, to alleviate some of the tension in her body.

He takes her hand in his, sliding a claw between her fingers to shake them loose, letting her soft little hand curl around his own. He dwarfs her, already half-hard with just her palm in his. He moves her carefully, flipping her hand over to trace a dark claw over the sensitive lines of her palm drawing a small shiver from her that has his cock twitching in interest.

He continues, gliding his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder, toying briefly with the denim strap of her overalls. She’s bashful, keeping her eyes averted, a hot flush to her cheeks as he looks her over.

“None of that” he chides, sliding his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her back. Her lips part, pupils blown as he smiles down at her, some of her nervousness melting away as he handles her so gently. “So pretty, daragaya” and the stars in her eyes as he praises her break what little self control he has left.

He’s quick, catching her round face in both hands and bending low, pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. She squirms briefly, hands flying up to grip his wrists in panic, he curls a tail around her calf, holding her neatly in place as he licks into her mouth, earning a soft gasp from his keeper as her lips part for him.

Good gods, she even tastes sweet.

He purrs happily into her mouth, savoring the taste of her flavored chapstick, the end of his tail flickering happily, brushing the soft curve of her ass. She’s panting now, a soft little whine bubbling from her throat at the contact. He dives low, licking a stripe across her jaw, reveling in the salt of her skin before nibbling and kissing his way down her throat, clawed fingers easily popping the cheap metal clasps of her outfit, pushing the denim away before yanking off the extra cotton shirt underneath.

Nikolai thinks it should be forbidden for such soft curves to be hidden like that. She’s a vision, an angel with the most beautiful soft curves, and when he has her back in his den he’ll dress her in the finest silks and jewelry, pretty chains to hug her waist, dangle nicely between her breasts. Highlight all his favorite parts. He might even keep her bare, just for his eyes to see.

She shivers in the cold, using her arms to cover her breasts as best as she could, eyes averted from his hungry gaze. Why did she hide from him? There should be paintings of her, statues in her image. She was perfect. So warm and soft, he kneaded at the handles at her hips, clawed fingers tracing over the soft swell of her belly, the rolls at her sides, skin hot beneath his fingers. He huffs, snagging her wrists and holding them well above her head, using the extra digits at the ends of his wings to hold her there, pulled taught and vulnerable beneath his gaze.

With a sharp claw he rips away the scrap of fabric that covered her chest, large hands palming them eagerly, nipples pebbling under the warm drag of his thumbs. He hums, pinching and pulling at her perfect little tits, hard cock nudging incessantly at her belly, leaving glistening webs of pre-cum over her skin as she whimpers and gasps.

“Kolya” she whines as he drags a hot tongue over her soft peaks, flicking his tongue over her pert skin before drawing a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and suckleing greedily. He breaks away, grinning up at her, sinking his teeth into the meat of her breast cheekily. She squirms, eyes squeezed tight and teeth dug into her plump lip as she tries halfheartedly to escape him. Though the wiggling only gives her tits a lovely jiggle that has him diving in again, nipping at her nipple just to earn himself another squeal.

He kisses over the skin in a gentle apology before sliding down her belly, pressing a trail of hot kisses there before he reaches the seam of her panties, cute little curls peaking out around the edges at her thighs. He marvels at the dark stain of her arousal, pressing his nose into the soaked fabric and breathing deep. She bucks against his face, squirming madly to get some kind friction. Not so demure now are you?

“I’ll take care of you greedy girl, patience.” he warns, tail patting her ass fondly as he drags his tongue along the sodden fabric. He rips those away too, thick tongue sliding against her folds with little preamble, the resounding moan like music to his ears. Using his tail to tug her legs further apart, he lavishes her in earnest, slurping at her cunt like a beast, using his thumbs to spready her puffy lips apart. She’s heaven, sweet and tangy on his tongue, and he would stay here for hours, drinking her down until her legs gave out and then taking more.

He sinks his tongue inside, licking into her tight heat as his nose brushes against her clit, humming wickedly as she cries and bucks. He takes control, dragging his claws up to grip her hips, guiding her into a nice and easy rhythm against his face. He loves every minute of it, reveling in the drag of her soaked folds against his tongue, the broken whines as he breaks away to suck her clit. He drags her to the edge over and over, fucking his tongue back into her wet heat and nosing at her sensitive nerves until she’s gushing against his face with a choked cry.

“So good, solnyshka” he praises, sitting back on his haunches to admire his work. He leans in, licking a hot stripe up her thigh, catching the errant rivulets of slick as they drip from her.

“So wet, I bet we can make a bigger mess can’t we?” he purrs, dragging his knuckles against the soaked seam of her sex, drawing a tired whimper from her. She sags against his hold, chest flushed, and thighs soaked. He could devour her whole like this.

He releases her, lifting her spent body into his arms, easing her down onto the clean pedestal that was once his. Pushing her legs apart he slides between them, sliding his neglected cock over her folds, using his tip to rub at her sensitive clit before sliding it along her body. He’s thick, head tapered to a near point, thick ridges rippling along underside of his shaft for a textured drag. Heavy balls kiss the seam of her sex as he rests there, tip drooling against her stomach. He needs her to see what she’s getting herself into, how much she’ll need to take for him. His soft girl looks up at him, big glassy eyes full of nervous anticipation.

“I know” he coos, grinding himself against her skin, “you can take it, my perfect girl, we just need a little more room.”

He needs her pliant, well stretched to take him fully. With his claws as they were, using his fingers wasn’t an option, but he does have another solution. Dragging a heavy palm through her slick he grabs hold of his tail, coating the tapered end thoroughly before guiding it toward her entrance, using a thumb to circle her clit as he slips inside.

The tip is easy, no thicker than a couple of her fingers as it pushes its way inside, the glide nice and easy from her previous orgasm. He fucks nice and slow, thrusting the tip in shallowly until she’s whining for more. He leans over her, rutting his cock against the crease of her thigh as he sinks his tail in further, fucks into her with more speed, using his hands wisely to play with her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers and nibbling at her lips to distract her from the stretch. She’s holding on for dear life, hands gripping his horns for purchase.

Even as spent as she is, she clenches around him desperately, sweet pussy desperate to take as much of him as she can. He can’t wait to feel her pulsing against his cock. Wet and hot, and so so tight.

He growls, rutting into her with more fervor. She’s close, chubby thighs clenching as he curls the tip of his tail a bit, just to bully more of his length inside of her. She’s lost in it, frantically kissing at his face as her peak draws closer and closer. Sneaking a thumb against her clit she cums again, legs slamming shut against his tail as he fucks her through it, laughing as she sobs, shoving at him weakly as she gushes messily around him again, slick coating his abdomen and dribbling down the stone underneath.

“Good girl, one more for me zoloste, I know you can do it.” He yanks her thighs apart pulling his tail from her greedy cunt and dragging her further down the pedestal, her plush ass hanging off the edge. He rests her thighs against his chest, kissing her ankle soothingly as he drags himself through her slick folds, thoroughly coating himself before lining up with her entrance.

Even with the prep it’s a tight squeeze. He takes it slow, bullying his way inside her soaked heat, gummy walls squeezing him tight as he sinks in, whimpering as the ridges of his cock drag against her sore entrance. He fucks slowly, pumping in shallow thrusts before he pulls out again, teasing her tired clit and pushing in again, head thrown back with victorious groan as he finally pushes himself to the hilt.

Its a gorgeous sight, her pussy split open on the girth of him, legs spread wide and clit twitching as he fucks her with tight shallow circles. She’s a mess, cheeks streaked with tears and trembling against the stone, whimpers and little hiccups falling from her lips. He hushes her, sliding his palms against her thighs, catching her hands to curl his fingers in hers, anchoring her there as he picks up the pace.

She’s already close, cunt clenching around him with every thrust. He fucks into her with earnest, her pretty fat pussy swallowing him down to the balls as the sticky slap of it echoes through the cemetery.

“Fuck, taking me like you were made for it.” he snarls bending over her to lick into her mouth, swallowing every little cry and plea as he fucks her mercilessly, soft body jiggling with the harshness of it.

“You’ll give me anything won’t you? Let me fill up this pretty pussy.” he pants, yanking her closer, and with a sick knowing grin, his tail slides underneath her, slick tip toying with her asshole. “Let me fill this pretty ass too, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything you want, Kolya, please, please,” she begs, his perfect girl cock drunk and hazy, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rocks into him for more.

“Don’t even know what's good for you, silly girl, you’d let me tear you in two.” he chuckles, “ but I’ll give you a little taste.” His tip slides between her cheeks, already slick from her own juices. He teases her there, flickering playfully at her hole before sinking in slowly, pushing just past her tight ring of muscle to fill her up, groaning at the feel of his own cock sliding against her walls.

Her next orgasm takes her like a freight train, soft body arching and trembling as it ravages through her. He fucks her through it, pussy clenching him like a vice as he pulls his tail from her ass, sharp claws digging into the meat of her hips hard enough to draw blood as he chases his own end.

Snarling like a beast he pounds into her, sinking himself deep as he comes with a low growl, painting her insides with long spurts. Filling her completely until his spend seeps out around his cock, spilling down her thighs and into the soft earth below.

He holds them there like that, cock buried deep as he marks her from the inside out, his bulky head resting against her breasts as they both come down.

His, his, his.

His perfect soft girl, flushed and damp from sweat and slick, trembling hands carding though his dark hair. Kind and gentle despite the way he ravaged her.

And when she leans up, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips with a nervous giggle, he knows he’ll guard her for the rest of his days.

#nikolai x reader #nikolai x f!reader #gargoyle!nikolai #monster smut #nikolai cod #wildcraft writing #restoration worship #i've looked and looked so i apology for any egregious errors #plus size reader

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year

Text

PROVE IT ───

jackson rippner ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “You think you are possessing me / But I've got my teeth in you.” — ‘Unicorn’, Angela Carter

pairing. jackson rippner x reader

summary. after breaking up with your boyfriend. you meet a handsome stranger at a bar. you tell him your cunt’s better than the girl’s your boyfriend cheated on you with; he tells you to prove it.

warnings. swearing, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, porn with some plot, impact play, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. i seriously doubt i wrote jackson’s character accurately in this so please comment anything i can improve on LOL🙏

It’s not often you spill your entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this one, this stranger with his watery blue eyes and plush lips, is oddly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It makes you want to give him everything, and absently, in your alcohol riddled mind, you think he’d make a good scammer.

Or, serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; you’re stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit your system ten-fold.

You’re there because you’d broken up with your boyfriend the night before. You’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and you let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right?

Wrong. He’d been cheating on you since he went to Copenhagen — four months, now — with a pretty little Dane that wanted to marry.

You were furious when he told you, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but you began seeing all the differences between you and the woman he cheated on you with: she, a perfect homemaker, you, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” the stranger across from you said softly, breaking you out of your nostalgic stupor and back into reality. “‘cause he’s a right asshole. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after you did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the softball game on the bar TV, before you drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant your dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here you were now.

You peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but you can’t tell if you actually think that, or your foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail you into next week.

No matter, you thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of your throat sweetly, fire trailing down your insides. “M’not beating myself up,” you protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,”

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as are you.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand sitting itself on your thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.”

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with you: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from your face, later he swiped a drop of drink off your lip, then he’d clutched you by the waist, pulling you close to him when someone squeezed past you in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in your ear.

Then, there’s a gap in your memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt you donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in your ear was too much for your dizzy head, and the only thing you remember is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and the next, you’re pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee pushing your quivering legs apart.

You’re trading wet, messy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up your shirt till they reach your chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching your breasts needily.

He’s kneading you artfully, fingers pawing at your flesh like he’s never felt something so soft, so plump. Your back arches as he does this; you’re practically putty in his hands.

It doesn’t slip past you that you’re being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom you don’t know the name of, but you don’t care. “Please,” you beg, his name coming up completely blank on your tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, one of his hands moving from your breasts up to your jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to your neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

You’re too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so you whine instead of answering, your weak fingers carding through his brown locks.

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make your cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes your core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to your problems all night telling you you’re just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got you all hot and bothered.

“Please,” you beg again, more desperate than before, “I need you.”

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly.

He had noticed how your legs clenched around his knee, how your breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how your fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch.

You bit your lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed you by the waist and turned you to press your face against the wall.

One of his arms then draped across your shoulders, pinning you down and arching your back, hard, making your ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. You let out a small gasp at the feeling, and you could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face.

He can’t be that big, right? It was just your drunk mind, making him feel bigger than you thought through his shorts. Plus, you hadn’t been fucked in over a month — you were probably just not used to it.

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something.

However, these days, you’ve learned that you don't have the best intuition. First, with your boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently.

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed, head straining to look at him behind you. Unconsciously, you shyly closed your legs at the sight of him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between your legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

The two of you were flush against each other, and you could feel his hard length resting between your legs. Just that, just him between you, already had you trembling in anticipation.

“Then fuck me already,” you bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, you were thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, you, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when your boyfriend made his routine visit. You were a loyal girl, alright, and your fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for you to reveal your worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.”

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of your ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on your cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom.

Your breath caught in your throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and you flushed. Thank god you were pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to your burning face.

He’d spanked you, and you fucking moaned.

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against you, your folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against your folds, his cock just barely grazing your clit, and you swore you could have screamed. The way he was teasing you was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous.

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing circles on the skin of your hip.

You let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” you squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked your tight hole.

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into you.

“I came here to…” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground your thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen you’d ever heard tore out of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into your soaking cunt.

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching your knees buckle and your mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on your ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking you like that.

But the way he insulted, complemented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had you shuddering; never in your life did you think such dirty words could make you so wet.

You barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout your body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how your walls squeezed around his cock had you barely coherent, your face taut with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for you to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into you, and another helpless groan rolled off your tongue.

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing you against the wall shifted, now covering your mouth.

Before you could protest, he slid out, then snapped into you. Immediately, you saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past your lips.

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little fuckhole’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast you could barely comprehend the ecstacy you were feeling.

“Oh my god,” you barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of you relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for your moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into your sweet cunt.

Then, the both of you heard the bathroom door open, and you froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing you by the waist and planting you on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on your mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from your throat: this new position of you on his lap had his long length pressed right against your cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, honey,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck. You shut your eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting your mouth.

“Just be fucking quiet. You don’t want everyone in this bar to know what a dirty slut you are, spreading your legs for a fucking stranger in the bathroom, right?” He said, words foul and like poison, but actions completely stark to it: he was pressing sweet, chaste kisses on your shoulder, laying his head on your back.

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips and help you slide up and down on his cock.

Your eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” you said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving your mouth, but you were completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure you felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on.

“Shh,” was all you saw him say, as you strained your neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle your groans, you muffled them yourself, biting down on your tongue. One hand of yours gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep your balance, and your other hand sneakily traveled down to your wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at your clit.

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at your wrist and pulling you back to pin your arm behind you. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

You let out a shaky exhale at his words, but you found your cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of your skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did you really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside you exited the bathroom entirely, and you belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked you up and pressed you against the wall once more, this time facing him.

He plunged his big cock into you like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into your hips you swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into you, not even a fucking meteor.

You, on the other hand, were arching, the pleasure taking your body over completely. Your hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into you. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time.

Your tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like you were made with his fat length in mind, and it drove you up the fucking wall: the pain in your hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and your orgasm began to spill out from under you. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Your cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like you were afraid he’d never come back to you.

You nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of your words.

He grinned, and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into you. Your toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past your slick folds.

One of his hands lifted off your hip and trailed across your lower stomach, “Can you feel that, honey? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge.

Both of you were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and you a feverish mewl. You couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on you from the outside.

Suddenly, you remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before you dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, under the name Jackson.

You face grew taut, your orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across your face. “Jackson! Jackson, please,” you moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on your tongue.

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged you through your orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core.

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within your insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout your entire body like you weren’t already being fucked relentlessly.

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning into rest his head against your chest. You were weak, sensitively riding out your high, but you knew Jackson wasn’t quite as close.

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling your walls against every inch of him. Your head rested beside his own, your eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation.

Despite your orgasm, your cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both your skirt and his pants. It made you tremble, thinking of you two tiredly exiting the bathroom, disheveled and having to cover the other up.

At this point, you didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting your mouth, with Jackson’s grunts and groans covering up your whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Jackson does!” You exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of you quicker and more jolted. “Jackson owns this pussy!”

Jackson grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within you. He clenched his jaw, piercing blue eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of your cunt squeezing him for every drop.

You were so fucking full, and even when Jackson pulled his softening cock out of you — which, was still huge despite its idleness — you felt stuffed to the brim.

His come dripped down your leg, and he promptly pulled your panties up, patting your worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good honey.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to your neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking you to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within your own, clasping tightly. You didn’t really mean round two - though, you wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking you - you actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through you cheekily, pulling you close to him.

So, you did go home with him, and in the morning you laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, counting the freckles on his face.

His eyes fluttered open when you shuffled. “Were you watching me?” he said, voice low and sleepy.

You nodded silently, your hand coming up to pet his skin comfortingly. After a beat passed, you asked the question that was bothering you all morning. “Jackson, you wanted to fuck me first, right?”

He blinked, tense for a moment, before smoothing out his expression. “What?” he opted on saying instead, sounding every bit clueless and entirely convincing.

Not convincing enough for you, however. “Baby, you think I didn’t notice the shots you were calling over and inching toward me? I was drunk, not stupid.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of you?” He said darkly, a side of him otherwise unknown to you ‘till now.

You raised a judging brow. “No need to be offended. I wanted to see where it was going to go: ‘did the handsome stranger want to fuck me, or did he want to kill me?’.”

He pulled you close to him, his arm snaking around your hips. “So, what are you saying?” he said, pressing a patronizing kiss to your forehead.

“Hm. Well, I jus’ wanna know if this is a one nightstand.”

“And you don’t care about the - drinks, the “taking advantage” part?”

You let out a laugh. “I was confident, darling; I keep pepper spray and a pocket knife in my purse. Even if you did - which you didn’t - I’d make it out alive.”

Jackson bit his lip, looking up at you. This had meant to be a one night stand, considering the job he had, but you were looking at him so sweetly, so accepting, like you secretly knew what he did for a living and wanted him despite it.

“Not a one night stand,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You beamed, and, later, when you did find out what he did for a living, you merely cocked your head. Thought about it… outweighed the pros, the cons, (and the fact you were completely right: he was perfect, but also a fucking sociopath), and merely shrugged.

“Honey, you’ll never do anything to me. Why should I care what you do for a living? Just don’t,” you warned, staring at him like you could and would fucking kill him, “cheat on me.”

You didn’t have the best intuition. And, as it turned out, a great moral compass, either.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #jackson rippner #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #redeye

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jujutsukatsuki · 21 days

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Happy Halloween || Ghostface! K.B.

I know we still have a bit to halloween but i got inspired to finish this! This is part two to a old Ghostface bakugou fic i wrote a while ago. Read it here

This is a script i found, i did change a few things so its not word for word but you get the idea!

Sorry it took me nearly 2 years to do part 2 {TW: Knifeplay, stalking, blowjob, deepthroating, choking, humiliation, talks of murder and violence, making a sex tape, edging, rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, fearplay, mask kink, oral (m and f), blood play)

It was Halloween night. The memories of Bakugou in his ghost face costume plagued your thoughts as you carved a pumpkin. He was suppose to be with you tonight but he got called to go patrol.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way his knife grazed your skin or the cold material of his gloves on your cunt. The small cut he gave you on your collarbone still stung but it stung in such a good way.

With your horny thoughts filling your head, you barely noticed the presence behind you until it whispered in your ear.

“What are you doing?” You gasped and turned around, met with the same white screaming face that was stuck in your head. His maniacal laugh was slightly muffled from behind the mask.

“Did I scare you?” He cooed, the tip of his knife brushed your hair behind your ear. You could barely feel the cold metal graze your skin but the touch was enough to make you clench your thighs. The carving knife that was in your hand was held to his chest, if he stepped closer he’d impale himself. The sweet sound of his laugh rang through your ears. You knew who it was under the mask. You knew if it got to be too much, all you’d need to do is say your safe word.

“Come on princess. What are you gonna do with that? Put that silly thing away.” His leather glove caresses your cheek, the material is cold and smooth.

“What.. what do you want?” You question him. You can see the bright whites of his teeth from behind the mesh of the mask.

“What do I want? Let me think. Maybe I’ve come here to finally kill you. Carve my knife through your stomach like that pumpkin you’re working on and rip you from the inside out. Or maybe… I’ve come to fuck with your head some more. I haven’t decided yet.”

He smirks as he watches your breathing hitch as you struggle to form words. Your thighs are clenching together, the material of your school girl costume caught between them. It’s just enough pressure to give you a tiny bit of relief.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared.” He hummed before he steps back to take in your costume. The noise he makes is one of approval before he takes his knife and cuts off the top two buttons of the white shirt you’re wearing. It exposes your cleavage.

“Leave me alone!” You huff and hold your shirt together.

“Leave me alone!” He mocks back to you before wrapping a hand tight around your neck, forcing you to be pinned between him and the counter. He grits his teeth and snarls, cutting away the rest of your shirt.

“That really what you want? Huh?! You sure you don’t just want my cock stuffed inside your holes until you’re full of my cum?!” A few tears slid down your cheeks as the tight feeling in your stomach feels even tighter.

“Go on, sweets. Answer me.” You look away from the hollow eyes of the mask.

“Didn’t think so.” He scoffs and squeezes his hand around your throat even more.

You look towards your phone that’s lighting up with a text from someone.

“That’s cute, you’ve got a date? Not on my watch.” He scoffs once more as he grabs your phone.

“You know, doll, I’m hurt that you’d wanna be with anyone else on such a scary night, especially after I made you feel so good the last time. You should apologize.” He fakes hurt as he looks to you again, his free hand pressed to his chest. It allows you to see the knife held between his fingers.

“Come on. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Ghostface! I don’t know what I’m doing with that loser when only you can touch me!’” His voice goes high as he mocks you and what you should say. You look away as his exact words fall from your lips. Cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Why don’t you get down on your knees for me, hm?” He licks his lips as you nod and get on your knees. You stare up at the white mask, you swallow thickly before glancing to the knife in his hand once again.

"Keep your eyes on me." His voice is gruff as he talks, you gasp as he slaps you and forces your eyes up to where his would be, he moves the cloak and lets you see the silver of the metal from his belt. "little upgrade from last year Doll. Easier access." You barely process what he says as he undoes the belt with one hand, his pants coming down slowly after. No words come to your mind as your eyes drift from the bulge in his grey boxers to him.

"You want it?" He growls and forces your head into him, you let out another gasp as you feel the bulge against your lips. He feels how you open your mouth and start to lick along his length, he hisses at the little bit of friction from his boxers rubbing against his skin.

"What do you want? I wanna hear it." He yanks your head back by your hair once again.

"I want your cock.. MIster Ghostface.. i want it please.." You beg, barley recognizing your own voice that's thick with lust. You feel like a dumb slut but you don't care. Your goal is to get fucked tonight.

"I knew you would. You like when I pull your hair like that?" You nod as he pulls his boxers down, hardened cock springing out. He pushes your head towards it and you open your mouth, tongue hanging out.

"That’s it." He groans and slides into your mouth, hissing at how warm and wet it was around his length. He thrusts in and out a few times as he lets his head roll back, you can't see it but you know his eyes are squeezed tight together. He pulls out and slaps his cock against your tongue. The taste of his precum is warm and salty.

"Stroke it." He moves his hands away, keeping one tangled in the hair at the back of your head, the tingling from your scalp travels to your pussy, at least you feel like it does.

"You’re mine, got it? And I’ll do with you whatever I please. I catch you with anyone else and… well you know what happens, dollface." He grunts as you suck on the tip, another hiss through his teeth.

"There you go, suck that dick like a good little slut."

His voice gets low as you suck on his cock, your head bobbing back and forth quickly, stroking what you couldn't fit in your throat.

"Look at you go. Taking it like a champ. I’m sure you won’t mind if I just-" He groans as he shoves his cock down your throat, your nose is pressed to the fabric of his black shirt, you can smell his cologne and the sutt from his quirk, just to ground you a little and remind you that it is the love of your life behind the mask.

"Aww, you tearing up? But you like being choked." You can hear the smirk as the tears start to run down your cheeks, he listens to your gagging noises a few more times but he finally lets you pull back. Gasping and sputtering, spit runs down your chin and soaks into your skin.

"Please fuck me mister ghostface." Your voice is hoarse as you speak, he chuckles from behind the mask as he yanks you up, the tip of the knife cutting the middle of your bra. You yelp as the tip gently cuts you, pretty red blood bubbling up.

"Want me to do it again? Who am I kidding, of course you do, cause you’re a slut." He smirks before he goes to a bag he left on the floor and pulls out a camera. You watch as he sets it up, not daring to move from the spot he put you in.

"We’re gonna make our own little movie." He hums and makes sure his angle is perfect to see the spot on the couch.

"I’m gonna set my camera right there and turn it on." The beep of the camera made you jump, thighs clamped together as you whimper. He sits on the couch and pulls you into his lap.

"i wanna play a game. It’s called I’m gonna fuck you in this cute little costume and if you cum before I tell you, you die. Understand?" You feel the knife press against your skin, the metal is cold and makes your pussy drip. Your back is to his chest, your legs spread over his so you cant close them.

"Mmm. I’m gonna fucking break you. How’s that sound?" He whispers in your ear, breath tickling your skin making you shiver, he shoves your skirt up and cuts your panties off. "Useless things." He hums and feels your wetness on the fabric. "Dirty slut." He chuckles deeply and throws the pair on his bag for save keeping. He moves so his cock is rubbing against your pussy, his skin is warm against yours. Making you feel like fire. "Sit on my dick" He commands and you do without question, gasping and squirming a little as he stretches your hole out. "F-fuck.." You whine and bit your lip as you sit all the way down. He smacks your thigh demanding you to bounce so you do. your chest bounces as you look at the camera and gasp, rolling your hips with each bounce to hit that special spot that makes your toes curl.

"Yeah, bounce on that cock." He groans and reaches around to rub your clit with his gloved hand before his hand snakes up to wrap around your throat. HIs grip is tight enough to make you see stars but in such a good way. "Gonna choke you extra tight this time. Hope you don’t need to breathe, that’d be a shame." He lets out a sadistic chuckle and smirks, you push out a small whimper.

"That’s it. So fucking good." He drops the knife and your throat so he can grab your hips and bounce you on his cock hard and fast. You can feel the air sucked from your lungs as you try and catch your breath from the quick pace. "Mister G-Ghost-F-Face please!" You manage to let out, trying to ask for a second to stop so you don't cum early.

"Aw I’m torturing you? Good. This is your punishment. I’m giving you what a nasty little slut deserves. I love watching you squirm on my cock while I touch you. I’m close. You better not be, though. I’d hate to have to spill my pretty little fucktoy’s guts." The growl of his voice makes you squeeze around his cock, so close to cumming without permission.

"I feel you clenching around me. Is an orgasm really worth your pathetic life, sweetheart?" He lets out a chuckle that turns into a small moan "Please Mister.. please.. please let me cum.. i can't hold it.. please.. please." You word vomit as you whine and try and hold it back.

"Is that begging, I hear? This is the best Halloween ever." He grins and flips you so youre bent over the arm of the couch, his hips drilling into your ass.

"Please!" You yelp at the sudden change

"Nope. Don’t you FUCKING cum. Do you wanna die?" The knife is against your neck, cold metal making your eyes water as you whine and squirm.

"You know the rules, baby girl. As much as I love hearing you beg, I’m not gonna let you off that easy." He pulls out and pants, he yanks the cloak off and his shirt, careful to keep the mask on. You look at the sweat on his chest, the scars that litter his torso.

"In fact, stand up." He sets off the couch and strokes his cock, the feeling of cumming disappears as you move to kneel on the floor once more, the cool hardwood burning your hot skin.

The gloved hand is in your hair once again, yanking your head back, he slaps you to get you to open your mouth. The tip of his cock slides down your throat, your nose pressed against the happy trail on his abdomen.

"I’m gonna cum down your throat." He hisses and starts to thrust into your throat, tears and spit spilling from you.

"Mmm! Swallow everything like the needy slut you are." He moans as the spurts of cum slip down the back of your throat, you try and gag at the sudden intrusion but he holds your head so you cant waste any.

He pants and moves to turn the camera off before stroking your hair. "good girl, didn't waste any. That's what i like to see." He smirks

"Are.. are you done?" You ask softly, hoping you aren't due to how bad you wanted to cum.

"Of course we’re not finished here. Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll have to give you your treat. Bend over for me and keep your face forward. DON’T Turn around. You try to peek at my face and I’ll slit your pupils." He growls and watches as you scramble to follow orders. You hear the plastic mask hit the ground and grip the cushions of the couch. Suddenly you can feel the leather gloves on your ass and his tongue on your pussy, you gasp and squirm lightly.

"You taste so good baby. You like that?" He groans at your taste before sucking on your tongue, his tongue flicking over it a few times. You push back into him and gasp. "Fuck.. yes.. Fuck" You whimper, thighs quivering.

"I know you’ve been waiting so patiently to cum. You gonna cum for me?" "Yes.. Fuck.. Mister Ghostface.. I'd.. I'd love to cum for you." You choke out, harsh pants between words.

"Cum Doll." He growls as he slides his tongue into you, making you whine loudly and cum, body trembling. He groans at the taste and keeps going, tongue pressing into you until he feels your cunt stop quivering. He pulls away and you no longer feel his warm breath on your pussy. He pulls the mask back on. "Turn around baby." He hums and you slowly sit on the couch, looking up at him whose pulling his boxers back up. You snatch the mask from him as you stand up, his unruly blonde hair flattened from the mask and the sweat.

"Happy Halloween, baby. Sorry about ruining your costume. And your makeup." He had a shit eating grin on his lips as he looked at you. "Shut up." You mutter and kiss him, tasting one another on each others lips.

274 notes · View notes

luxurychristmaspudding · 27 days

Text

You and I | On Call

part iv

summary: frankie has one last question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. fluff, drinking. praise kink. the boys (minus tom). SMUT! fingering, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v. cum kink? creampie. frankie retains the title of pek 👑

reader is a teacher, has hair, and can be lifted by frankie (he's a big strong boy, don't worry about it) but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 10.8k

an: well, here we are gang. thank you for joining me and for all your sweet words. i've been so awful with reblogging your kindness on this little thing because of how busy i was when i wrote most of it, but i want you to know i appreciate it so much. i've loved sharing these two with you - it's been a privilege <3

shoutout to @jolapeno for helping me with the chapter name, and for very gently reminding me that 20k chapters probably should be split 😉 love you <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist

When he wakes, it’s well past twelve.

Nine hours which he imagines he probably needed, but really it puts him two hours behind.

He showers and dresses in a rush, running out the door to his truck, but still taking the time to register that your curtains have remained closed. It makes him smile, knowing you’re likely still tucked up in bed, your stories about the night before resting before they make their way to him.

He practically sprints around the supermarket, grabbing anything that even vaguely crosses his mind as something he might need. Meat, bread, salads of sorts, sauces, soft drinks, beers. He picks up your favourite dessert just in case, and then hauls the bags back to the truck, keeping a nervous eye on the time as his fingers tap against the steering wheel.

Will and Benny are already there when he gets home. Grinning, leaning against Will’s car as he pulls into the driveway.

There’s a sharp pull of joy in his chest even as Will laughs out a ‘You’re late, Fish’, pounding his back as he pulls him into a hug.

‘Can’t be late to my own fuckin’ house.’ He grumbles back, pulling Benny in in the same way.

‘Can, and you are.’ The younger man laughs.

‘Thought you might be out with your lady.’ Will teases, and Frankie flushes right to the tips of his ears.

‘She’s still asleep.’ He says without thinking, a smile pulling at his lips. It’s comical, really, the way the two men freeze and look at each other. ‘Help me with these bags, will you?’

The brothers remain unmoving, staring at him with some degree of bewilderment.

‘Still asleep?’

Frankie sighs, a little exasperated.

‘Yeah. She was out last night.’

Will’s eyes wander to Frankie’s bedroom window just as Benny’s mouth begins to form a question. The realisation dawns quickly.

‘Not in my bed,’ he scowls, ‘Next door.’

‘Oh.’

He turns his back on them, heading to his front door, arms laden with groceries. A nervous, giddy feeling swirls in his stomach.

‘Had us going for a minute there, Fish.’ Will calls after him. Frankie bites his lip against the memories of you in your living room, the desperate kisses you’ve shared since. He feels like a teenager, on the verge of spilling secrets like he’s at a sleepover.

He hums instead, flicking a glance over his shoulder to see Benny grab more stuff from the back of the truck. He grunts and grimaces under the weight, shooting a look at Frankie.

‘What do you have in here? Are we feeding the five thousand?’

Will laughs, loading his own hands with bags, tutting at his little brother.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be the athlete here?’

Benny drops one bag just to give him the finger.

‘This is my rest day, motherfucker.’

He groans again as he picks the bag back up, Frankie laughing along with Will.

‘Lift with your knees, not with your back!’ He shouts.

‘Quit telling me what to do, asshole!’ Benny hollers, the older men still chuckling as he shoulders the front door open.

Santiago arrives not too long after, setting up the last of the food - the salads out on the table, more beers in the fridge. They’ve all clocked Frankie checking his watch, checking his phone, your text that you’d be over in the next five minutes burning a fucking hole in his pocket.

He’s nervous. And they can tell.

He has the distinct impression he’s being cornered when they all turn to look at him at the same time as he fiddles with the burner on the grill. It feels ridiculous - this desire for everything to be perfect. You’ve seen him in all of his less-than-perfect moments, have never shied away. But this - today - feels different.

Pope leads the offence.

‘How’s your girl then, Fish?’

Frankie’s heart drops low in his chest before thumping hard behind his ribs, a hand coming up to try and wipe the sudden smile from his lips. He tries a gruff tone, failing miserably as soon as he speaks.

‘She’s not my girl.’

Will whistles lowly, smirking.

‘Still? We gonna have to smush you together like Barbies?’

Benny snorts, and Frankie shoots him a look which immediately makes him straighten and soften.

‘We won’t. They won’t. Scout’s honour.’

Santi takes a pull from his beer, a glint in his eye.

‘No progress at all?’ He probes.

Frankie takes a deep breath, eyes lowered to the floor before finding the deep brown of his best friend.

‘We’re… seeing each other.’ He murmurs, this time unable to hide his smile, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Silence. Quiet that puts Frankie even more on edge as he watches his friends exchange looks, as a slow smile tilts the corners of Benny’s lips.

‘Well - that’s an improvement.’ Will grins.

‘A marked improvement.’ Santi agrees.

‘So you told her how you feel?’ Benny asks, eyebrows raised.

Frankie sucks air through his teeth, clears his throat. His face grows warm, fingers twitch a little.

‘Not quite -’

Will barks a laugh.

‘Morales, you dog.’ Followed by the deep rumbles of amusement from the other two men.

‘Oh, the tried and true manoeuvre - the Catfish Canoodle.’ Benny snickers.

‘The Morales Marathon.’ Will adds, tilting his bottle to him. Pope is next, grinning lasciviously.

‘The good old Five Finger Fish Fu-’

‘Frankie?’ You call from inside the kitchen, ‘I have beers, but there’s no room in the fridge -’

You pop your head round the backdoor, beaming immediately when you catch sight of the men in the garden.

‘Oh! Hi,’ you say brightly, emerging fully. Frankie’s heart stutters. You’re wearing that sundress he remembers - hasn’t been able to forget - from when he mowed your lawn weeks ago. Gorgeous, the way it drapes over your curves, the way it lets your skin glisten in the afternoon light. He feels his shoulders drop, his whole body relax. Feels the way he goes a little weak at the knees, knows he’ll be looking lovesick in front of the boys. And he doesn’t care.

‘Sorry I’m a little late,’ you say, hopping down the porch steps towards them, ‘I wish I had a good excuse, but I just - don’t.’

Benny laughs, moving with Will and Santi to greet you. Frankie just about catches the look Santiago throws him, a sweet holy shit, brother.

‘Ah, the elusive neighbour. We were starting to think he’d made you up.’ Pope says, matching your smile. You giggle, arms outstretched as he reaches you.

‘Funny,’ you smirk, ‘I was thinking of not turning up just to prove you right.’

He laughs as he releases you, Benny sweeping you into his arms and planting a kiss on your cheek.

‘Even more beautiful than he said you were,’ he says, and Frankie watches your eyebrows shoot up as you fix him with an oh, really? look. His heart drops to his stomach, neck grinding in an effort to shake his head before a shit-eating grin splits across your face.

‘I had no idea he was so - complimentary - behind my back.’ You laugh against Will’s shoulder as he spins you around.

‘Oh, he is,’ he chuckles, placing you gently down with your back to Frankie. Frankie glowers at him half-heartedly as Will winks back, and the dark-haired man raises a finger, mouthing at him to shut - the fuck - up. ‘Feels like we’ve known you for ages.’ Will continues.

You turn, planting your hands on your hips, cocking your head at Frankie.

‘Just can’t stop talking about me, huh, Fish?’ You tease, and Frankie huffs as he pulls you in for a lingering hug, wondering if it’s too much to kiss you in front of his friends.

‘Guess not.’ He whispers into your ear.

You’re biting your lip as you pull away from him, hands lingering on his shoulders as his stall on your waist.

Will clears his throat.

‘You gonna introduce us then, Morales?’

Frankie rolls his eyes at him as he turns you around, hands at your hips, pointing a finger at each friend.

‘William Miller,’ he says, as Will pulls a face - just Will is fine - ‘Benjamin Miller,’ - Benny, please - ‘And Santiago Garcia.’

‘I’m only Santiago when I’m in trouble,’ Which is most of the time, Benny laughs. ‘Santi is much better.’

You grin as you give them your name, and Will nudges your arm with his elbow.

‘I thought we were on Bug terms.’

You laugh, batting his arm.

‘You can call me Bug if you really want to.’

Benny shrugs, squinting his baby blues at you.

‘Maybe,’ he grins, ‘But your name suits you. It’s pretty. I like it.’

Frankie rolls his eyes again, squeezing your waist against the flicker of possessiveness that rises in his gut. It’s nothing more than teasing, kindness - something they’ve almost always extended to partners welcomed into the fold. But he’s not blind - they’re a handsome group, and he wants you to himself.

‘You gotta stop that,’ you giggle, ‘Before I wanna hang out with you guys all the time.’

Will throws a gentle arm around your shoulder, leaning back to wink at Frankie.

‘Hear that, Fish?’ He chuckles, ‘She’s in.’

He groans.

‘It’s not too late to back out,’ he murmurs lowly in your ear, ‘Though we’ve got a fuckton of food.’

His heart leaps as he feels your fingers reach for his, tangling briefly before squeezing.

‘I’m stayin’,’ you promise, as Will moves around you to turn the grill on. ‘You guys put on a hell of a spread, anyway.’

From behind, Will claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, shunting the younger man forward a little.

‘That would all be Fish. Must be a special occasion.’ He smirks, and Frankie looks up to the heavens to try and stop his wish for the ground to swallow him up.

‘Sure is,’ you smile, ‘Feelin’ pretty lucky to be meeting you guys.’

‘Pleasure's all ours, kid.’ He grins.

Frankie smiles softly at you, brown eyes filled with something warm.

‘Want a drink?’ He asks.

You smack your lips, hand grabbing at your throat.

‘Please, Fish,’ you gasp, ‘I’m parched.’

The screen door has barely shut behind you before he has you backed against his kitchen counter again, stealing kisses like you’re about to get caught.

His lips are slow, sweet, hands so lazy, so indulgent in the way they hold you you’re not sure it’s really happening, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He crowds you a little closer, licking into your mouth as he fists the skirt of your dress, palming at your ass. You barely manage to catch your breath before he’s mouthing at your neck, nipping at the skin there as you huff against him.

‘Good time last night?’ he breathes against your shoulder. You nod, eyes shut tight.

‘Yes,’ you gasp, ‘Really good time.’

‘Good,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m glad.’

You moan softly as he grips your hips, pulling you up against his thigh. There’s a thrill to it, knowing the boys are just outside. It makes your blood run hotter. Dangerously hot - no-turning-back hot.

‘Should get back outside. Before they wonder where we’ve gone.’

‘Don’t care,’ Frankie rasps, tugging at your dress again, ‘This fucking dress drives me insane.’

You nip at his bottom lip as his mouth meets yours again.

‘You’re driving me fucking insane,’ you gasp, lips tipping upwards, ‘In your kitchen, humping your leg like a dog in heat -’

He groans against you, forehead knocking against yours as he breathes heavily.

His eyes are almost black, palms warm and rough as they cradle your cheeks.

‘Once they leave,’ he whispers, ‘We’re spending a week in my bedroom. Or yours. I don’t care which.’

A whimper slips up your throat, mouth pressed hotly against his again as you start to count how many hours until it might be acceptable to drag him away. One hand slips from your cheek to your waist, inching up until he can squeeze at your breast, running a thumb over your nipple. You shudder, whole body ignited.

‘Fuck.’ He breathes.

‘Frankie -’

‘Hey! Lover boy,’ Pope whistles from behind the screen door. You leap apart at the sound of his footsteps on the porch. ‘Hope you’re decent in there, I’m coming in -’

Santi appears, grinning widely as he pushes his way into the kitchen. He shields the side of his face facing you with a hand. ‘I’m not looking,’ he says, ‘But we’re gonna get grilling.’

‘We’re not naked, Pope.’ Frankie says, bemused. You giggle as Santi drops his hand.

‘Thank God,’ he sighs, before fixing you with a look, ‘I’ve seen enough of this man’s ass to last me a lifetime.’

He’d hoped it would be easy, knew that they’d love you. But he’s never seen these three men take to someone the way they have you.

He smiles as you stand with Will at the grill, watches the brotherly affection develop in real time. The soft smack of your palm against the older man’s shoulder, snorts of laughter, whispered jokes and more serious stories swapped. Frankie relaxes into it more and more, gazing at you over Benny’s shoulder.

When he brings more food over to cook, Will stays stood by his side as you take his place with Benny and Santiago. The three of you huddled around the crackling firepit, hooting with laughter. He catches his own name a few times, turns to find you watching him with shining eyes as Pope and the younger Miller brother no doubt regale you with embarrassing stories from his youth. Things he hasn’t thought to tell you, things he may well have forgotten. And you fill a chair so easily, so effortlessly, it’s like you’ve always been there.

Clinks of cheersing bottles, conspiratorial shoulder bumps, lowered heads and loud exclamations and giggles. He feels like he’s in a fucking coming of age movie.

‘She’s a keeper, brother,’ Will murmurs to him over the lip of his beer bottle. He turns to him, a little surprised, but Will looks so at ease, so content with his little smile, that he knows there’s no bullshit there. ‘Fuckin’ funny. And smart as hell.’

Frankie hums, busying himself with flipping a burger. His hands are a little shaky - even after everything that’s happened over the last week, there’s still something that’s keeping him unsteady. The rock of a world turned on its axis, the deep want of willing this to work - because he loves you. So fucking much.

‘Don’t go all shy on me now, Fish.’ Will says, turning with him so his back is to you.

‘’M not.’ Frankie says, softly. Will sucks a breath through his teeth, squinting up at the sun just over the roofline of your house.

‘Do you remember what I was like when I first met Charlotte?’

Frankie looks at him - the beard, the hair pulled back, the clear blue of his eyes. He nods.

‘And the way you wound me up? How I was always looking for her, always checking for her? And at the end of the night, you asked when I was buying the ring?’

Frankie chuckles at the memory, the comment made stood at the bar with his best friend, manifesting the future he’d have. The ring that now sits on Charlotte’s finger, the wedding planned for the end of the year.

‘I do.’

Will looks back at him, teeth exposed with his smile. Teasing, full of humour, but it’s genuine, not goading.

‘When are you buying the ring, Frankie?’

Blood rushes to his head so fast he feels dizzy, so fast he has to put the tongs down. He scoffs, the way it sounds out loud so outlandish, but something pierces deep through his chest at how clearly Will sees through him.

Because he’s thought about it.

He shakes his head, swallowing roughly. There’s nothing he can say. Anything like not even my girlfriend yet would sound like a denial. But admitting it, that secret thought, even to Will, feels insane.

He’s still grinning at him.

‘I know it when I see it, Fish,’ Will continues, ‘And I know what you’re thinking.’ He pauses, shrugs. ‘Bring her to the wedding. She might catch the bouquet.’

He can’t move. Can’t turn to look at you, he’s sure his cheeks are burning so brightly. Can’t even twist his head when Benny calls,

‘Are you done grilling over there? We’re starving.’

He can’t stop thinking about it. Can't stop his whirring brain as the five of you eat, passing sauces and salads. Can’t stop thinking about a future, a life with you as you sit across the table from him, meeting his eye, chatting, laughing. Can’t stop the thoughts from ploughing through him as your foot catches his under the table, can hardly swallow his burger against the words lumping in his throat. Can’t stop the pounding of his heart when he catches you gazing at him halfway through a story, chin cupped in your hand, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars - can’t stop wondering whether you’ve ever pictured the same.

He’s barely snapped out of it when the plates are stacked and carried through to the kitchen, bits of salad and smudges of sauce halfway cleared up before you pile outside again, Will and Santi jostling over the chair free from the smoke of the firepit. You walk with him and Benny, the younger man listening to you talk with such interest, such fondness already, that Frankie wonders whether he’s too young to have a heart attack.

He’s only pulled from the conversation by the crack of broken furniture, the three of you stopping short and quiet as Will wheezes, sprawled on the ground atop the remnants of the coveted chair. He holds a hand up in the air, craning his neck at Frankie.

‘His fault,’ he croaks, pointing at Santi, who holds his palms up in surrender.

‘Not my fault that he’s so heavy.’

You trap a giggle between your teeth and bottom lip as Frankie and Benny start to laugh, Will scrambling to his feet with the help of Frankie’s outstretched hand.

‘Santiago.’ Benny snickers, and your bright eyes find Frankie’s.

‘Well. Now you are in trouble.’

Frankie grins, fixing Santi with a faux stern look.

‘In so much trouble you’re gonna have to sit on the floor.’ He chuckles, and Pope pouts.

‘My knees will never recover, Fish, and you know that.’

He shrugs, settling into a chair at the same time as Benny and Will. You stay standing, warring silently with yourself before you gesture to the empty seat for Santi to take.

‘It’s yours,’ you smile, nervous as you turn to Frankie. ‘Is this seat taken?’ You ask, looking pointedly at his lap.

His eyes blow wide for a second, breath caught in his chest. Unsure, for a moment, of your meaning, ready to give the chair up for you. You raise an eyebrow, palm lowering gently onto his shoulder.

‘No.’ He rasps, blissfully unaware of Will’s smirk.

‘Good.’ You say, lowering yourself onto his thighs, an arm around his shoulders, his around your back, hand at your hip. He swings your legs over his without thinking, and you settle, limbs tense at first, before shuffling a little to get comfortable.

To their credit, the boys don’t make it a thing. They continue the conversation as normal as the two of you join in, wrapped up together, crowing with laughter as your bodies vibrate against each other.

You hold each other closer as the evening wears on. Head resting against his chest, nuzzled against the fabric of his t-shirt. Laundry detergent, light scent of cologne, the warmth of his skin. His hands are broad and calloused where they cradle you, so easily - never a limb falling slack, never goosebumps that go unsoothed. He rubs his thumb against your thigh in soft semi-circles, leans his cheek against the top of your head, breathing in your shampoo.

Lets himself be warmed by the pressure of your body against his, willfully ignores his cock when it twitches hopefully as you shift. Which is hard, as you begin to shift more and more the later it gets, the hotter you burn above him. And as hard as you try, you just can’t keep still. Can’t stop trying to find relief for the ache in your core, the wetness pooling in your underwear.

He finally grips your hips against a particularly wicked wriggle, head dipping to growl in your ear.

‘Stop, baby. Please.’ And it works for a moment - only a moment - as you’re frozen by the flashbacks of him unravelling beneath you eight days ago. Eight days too long.

As though he’s read the shift in atmosphere, Will stands and stretches.

‘I’m heading in,’ he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. ‘The spare room calls.’

You stand, reluctantly, and Frankie is quick to readjust himself as inconspicuously as possible. Will gives you a sweeping hug, kissing just before your ear as you say a muffled see you tomorrow into his shoulder. Frankie takes his outstretched hand, pulling him into a back-clapping embrace of sorts, and when he pulls away he’s surprised to see Benny and Pope also bidding you goodnight. He checks his watch.

It’s not even eleven.

His eyes twitch from you to the boys as he works out whether you’re heading back to yours, too.

Santi catches the look, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he whispers a do not come back into this house, pendejo. He looks over your shoulder at Benny as Will makes you giggle again, and is met with the firm waggle of a finger.

Stay, he mouths.

Fuck you, Frankie mouths back, watching their backs retreat into his house.

The backyard falls quiet, only the snap of logs in the fire, the buzzing of insects, and the rush of blood in his ears to be heard.

You turn, facing him in the dark, half your face lit by the dying embers of the fire pit.

‘Are you - are you tired?’ He asks softly, afraid of disturbing the hushed moment.

‘No,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

‘No.’

You nod, gentle smile pulling at your lips.

‘Good.’

You step towards him, slowly, like something out of a dream. Glowing in the low light, sparkling with something divine.

You cup his cheeks with both hands, press your body in a firm line against his, hoping to convey exactly what you mean through the touch. Affection, of course, love, adoration - everything you’ve been planning on giving him over the last week, but now, more pressingly - want. Pure, unadulterated want.

You tip your head to slant your mouth against his, hot, heavy, teeth clashing at the initial meeting, breath mingling, tongues licking into each others’ mouths. You tug at the back of his neck, hand buried in the soft curls there, yanking his head back a little to open his mouth up to you. You let go. Lips suckling at his tongue, teeth nibbling at the pillow of his lower lip. Further. Pecking at the scruff of his jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Nipping, raising red on his skin, before soothing it with a tortuously slow lick of your tongue.

Your breathing is so heavy, hands so feverish, you lose the sense of where you end and he begins. Feel fingers scrabbling for purchase, bruising grips, on you and him. One scorching palm runs the length of your dress down to the top of your thigh, grabbing at the flesh there. You shift your stance, moaning into his mouth, finding that hand with your own, moving it closer to that burning place between your legs. Frankie follows your lead.

You press his hand up, and his knuckles graze along the sodden fabric of your panties, lips falling away from his as you whine and he groans. You’re soaked, wetter still as he runs the length of his fingers up and down the material clinging to your pussy, feeling the bite of your teeth as you try to muffle yourself against his collarbone.

He shushes you, coos at you, pressing a particularly firm stroke against your cunt that makes your legs shake as he asks you -

‘You gonna let me feel it, baby?’

You gasp against his mouth, nodding feverishly. He chuckles, slowing the pace of his kiss so he can really focus on how soft, how warm and wet you are as he pulls your panties to the side with deft fingers, slicking them up before swirling them around your clit. A stuttered breath escapes you, cutting off into a loud, unabashed moan as he slowly, slowly fucks his fingers into you. He sinks right down to the bottom knuckle, kisses forgotten as he breathes raggedly against your cheek, feeling you clench and whimper around him. He curls them slightly, and your knees practically buckle, stomach contracting, hands grasping at his shirt.

‘Frankie,’ you plead, almost losing your train of thought as he plants a kiss just behind your ear. ‘Take me to bed.’

He pumps his fingers, once, runs his thumb softly over your clit before withdrawing them altogether, mouth slanted firmly against yours, stifling your whine. You stumble a little, pulling at the collar of his shirt for him to move with you before pausing briefly, watching as he brings his fingers to his lips. He slips them deep inside, groaning around them, eyelids fluttering as he takes in the taste of you. Your breathing is heavy as he slips them from his mouth, offering them to you. You take them willingly, bobbing your head to feel how thick and heavy his fingers are on your tongue, the taste of your slick diluted with his spit making your mouth water. He stares as you flick the muscle between and around his digits, brow furrowed, eyes dark, before he retracts them. You frown at him, and he licks into your mouth with such ferocity you’re quick to forget your disappointment.

‘Yours. Now.’ He murmurs, and then you’re grinning, running. Sprinting over his lawn, hopping the fence on unsteady legs, striding towards your porch. You slam up the steps, glancing behind you only once to watch him follow you. Giddy with want, warm all over, soaking wet, you can't help but look for him.

For the first time since you moved next door, Frankie willingly hops the fence.

He catches up to you before you can get the front door open, clutching your hip, turning the handle with the other. He backs you into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him, shoes toed off blindly. There’s no reprieve from his lips, no other thought than his hands on your body, guiding you into your living room, hips bumping into furniture, deaf to the clatter of objects falling - not a single fuck given over what - one hand - whose, you’re not sure - flying out to flick a lamp on before he’s crushing you against the sofa.

Calves to the furniture, you fall, and he follows you - two hands braced either side of your head before returning to their homes on your cheek, your waist, your breasts. Palming at the flesh there, kneading, thumbing over your nipples. You’re gasping, rolling your hips in hopes you’ll catch against something, because he’s everywhere, only to come up empty every time. He lowers both hands, tongue running strongly against yours. One shifts your hips, the other pressing against your panties again.

‘Let me taste you,’ he groans, voice hoarse, ‘Please, baby. I have to - let me taste you.’

You nod fiercely, tugging on his curls again, mumbling a fuck, Frankie, yes, before he pulls away. His lips are spit-slick, swollen, cheeks flushed. Breathing haggard, eyes blown, curls frayed. He looks almost how he did a week ago.

He holds your gaze for a moment, searching again, letting the question float through the air. You nod, softly, and he begins his descent.

His lips are wet against your skin, leaving shining marks as he presses them to your clavicles, your breastbone, closing them around your covered nipples. He mouths at them, tongue dampening the fabric of your dress, warming, cooling, the fabric sticking to you in a way that makes your back arch. He works one with his fingers while his mouth is occupied, teasing them into peaks as you whimper and buck your hips beneath him. He watches you darkly, eyes heavy lidded, eyelashes almost fanned against his cheeks. And you ache. Ache so badly, so unforgivably. You can feel how wet you are - panties soaked, dampness all the way down into the cleft of your ass, smudging along the tops of your thighs. He waits until you whine again, louder, higher pitched, nails scraping in his curls, against his scalp - please Frankie, please - before he moves lower. More kisses pressed to your covered stomach, lower, lower, large hands pushing up the hem of your skirt, tracing every bit of skin they can find. He shifts on his knees to get closer as you lift your hips so he can shove your skirt all the way up, lips parting, eyebrows furrowing in a desperate look of need as he fixes his eyes to your clothed core, as you buck again at the look in his eyes, breathing heavily. His palms come together at the very tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing along the hem of your panties either side of your pussy. You huff again, hands leaving their clutch of the sofa to bury back into his curls, tugging him forwards.

He groans, deep in his throat, easily led. Presses his nose to your clothed cunt, inhales deeply, grinds the tip just against your throbbing clit. You whimper, tugging once more, and he nuzzles your bud again, mumbling something into your heat.

‘Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Frankie - if you don’t fuckin’ - touch me in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna cry.’

‘I am touchin’ you,’ he growls against your hip, head tilted to look up at you. His hot breath on your skin has your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. You shake your head, frustration burning behind your eyes.

‘I want - your tongue -’ you pant, ‘Want to feel your mouth, Frankie.’

He groans, thumbs digging under the waistband of your panties to rip them down your legs, eyes never leaving your core as he reveals you - glistening, messy, wet, drooling for him. He splits his fingers into a V, spreading your lips as you keen and mewl above him.

‘You want me here?’ He rasps.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘I fucking do.’

He finds it in himself to show you mercy.

The first stroke of his tongue is strong, wide. As though he’s trying to take as much of you in as possible in the first go - licking deep and long to taste your slick, tracing the dip of your hole, ending with a final swirl around your clit. Your chest shudders, eyes squeeze shut, hands tense in his hair.

‘Okay, baby?’ He asks, so soft.

You lick your lips.

‘Yeah.’

He pushes your at knees to spread your thighs wider apart.

‘Look at me.’ He says, and you crack your eyes open to watch as he manhandles your legs onto his shoulders, tilting his head as he considers, pushing them back towards your chest in order to find the best angle to eat you from. Fuck.

He’s not gentle, and he isn’t taking his time.

The week you’ve waited, the months building up to this, do not mean you have the patience to make this last any longer than he’s already teased you for. He eats you like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything like the heaven between your legs. Long, firm strokes of his tongue, flicking at your swollen clit, watching as your head tilts forward, heavy, unable to tear your eyes from him. Chest heaving, something about the way you’re still wrapped in that fucking dress making him leak steadily in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper. He’s barely spared a thought for it so far, caught up in the way you look, the way you feel, smell, taste. He moves his grip from one of your knees to palm himself roughly, and you moan, watching him.

Your lips part, and he knows, knows that you’re going to beg him to fuck you before the words even leave your mouth. And he will.

He just needs this first.

‘You’re gonna come in my mouth,’ he rumbles, stroking your clit with his thumb, levelling you with a dark, stern stare, ‘And then we can do anything you want. Just need to taste you like this first.’

He watches the pulse of your cunt, the gush of slick that escapes you at his words. Coos at you, so pretty, baby, before leaning back in.

Closing his lips around your pearl, sucking, flicking, tracing shapes - tracing the letters of his name against you - watching as you buck and cry and moan. You’re so fucking beautiful, leaking around him, wetting his chin, his lips, his cheeks. He can only taste you, only smell you. And it’s fucking divine.

Diving in as you bury your hands in his hair again, pulling his mouth closer, reeling in the soft plush of his lips, warm wet of his tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth against your skin. He lets you use him, lets you grind against his face, winding your hips against him. He holds his mouth open, tongue lapping where he can, mumbling against your skin. Blissed out, pussy drunk.

Yes, yes, fuck. Fuck, baby - use me. Use me, just like that. Take what you need, Bug. Taste so good, feel so fucking good.

His eyes dart from your cunt to your face - this beautiful mess you’re making, the fucked out, glassy look you watch him with. Mouth dropped open, brow scrunched in ecstasy, broken little pants and moans, cries of his name. He stretches an arm, a hand above his head, kneading at your breast, pinching your nipple, the other settling above your mound, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit. You shut your eyes quickly, your shout of fuck coming loud, a yelp.

He can taste how close you are, willing you to come with his eyes when you meet his gaze. His come, baby, is muffled, but it’s all you need.

You break, back arching, breasts heaving, pussy fluttering and clamping around his tongue, heat blasting through your belly, a rush of bright white feeling pouring from you. Your hips freeze, jerk, twitch against him, and he closes his eyes briefly, worried that if he watches you ride the high the whole way through he’ll come in his fucking pants again.

Your hands loosen in his hair, letting him lick and suck dazedly until he’s content. Nose pressed against you, inhaling, tasting as you whimper, thighs tightening a little around his head at the oversensitivity, and he backs away, pressing kisses to your thighs as your ragged breathing begins to ease into a more even rhythm.

He nips at your skin as you stare at him, something flooding your chest. You feel like you’re still riding that wave, feel like no one’s ever really eaten you like that, nobody’s ever really let you use them like that.

You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb tracing the glisten of you on his lips. He tilts his head into your palm, and you smile, mouth dry.

‘Where’d you learn to do that?’ You ask. It’s a dumb fucking thing to say, but you can think of nothing else that could quite explain the light-headed awe you’re feeling. He laughs, a deep rumble, real, into your thigh.

‘It’s a gift.’ He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your belly, shifting on his knees, adjusting himself. Your eyes soften, dropping to his hand.

He sees the question in your eyes again.

He leans forward, squatting, hands moving to the crease between your thighs and ass, before he stands, bringing you with him. You mouth at his neck as he stumbles to your stairs, taking them steadily, shouldering open your bedroom door through the darkness.

He drops you where he knows the mattress, your bed will be, separating himself from you only briefly. He yanks the curtains shut as your fingers flick on a dim light - you’ll be damned if you're not watching this.

He stops before you at the edge of the bed, between your legs. You reach out, looking up at him - sharp curve of his nose, chocolate of his curls illuminated by the light, the heat of his eyes, soft clench of his jaw, rough swallow of his throat. He reaches to stroke your hair, cupping the back of your head. You tug at the hem of his t-shirt, and he holds your hands, loosening them so he can pull it up over his head. And then he’s all golden tan, freckles. Stupidly broad shoulders, strong arms, muscle moving beneath the skin as he discards the garment on the floor. Curls of hair over his chest, down his softening stomach, down below the waistband of his jeans. The bulge straining against the denim there. You draw your hands down the lines of him, pausing only to trace the silvery mark of the scar on his abdomen. He sucks a sharp breath in at the tenderness, the intimacy, takes your fingers in his. Watches as you blink up at him, as you move to press your cheek against the heft of his cock, a kiss against his zipper. Hands making quick work of freeing him, tugging down the denim and his boxers. He steps out of them, bending only to pull his socks off, before he stills in front of you. His hard cock bobs against his stomach - you’re briefly distracted by his thighs, the delicious, smooth patches of skin where his hips meet his torso - but he is impossible to ignore. Thick, throbbing. Precum beading down the shaft, head flushed a heady, deep red, veins pulsing beneath the skin. Curved upwards, twitching beneath your gaze. You swallow thickly.

‘Holy shit.’

You don’t even realise you’d said it out loud until he laughs, a little bashful, a little proud. You look back up to him as you reach out, fingers wrapping around his base. Skin like silk, like gossamer, hot and strong. He hisses through his teeth, knees weak and hips bucking all at once. You pump once, twice, letting your breath fan over him.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, ‘Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.’

He flushes at your words, his retort dying in his throat when you wrap your lips around him, gently taking his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue in circles, dipping into his slit, teasing the skin on the underside. He watches, breath caught in his throat, head pounding as you dip forward, hands flat against his thighs, eyes fluttering blissfully as you take him deeper. Watches as he disappears inside your mouth, as he feels nothing but warm and wet, nothing but your tight swallow, your fluid grip at his base, the vibration of your hum, the glint in your eyes as you look up -

He retracts his hips reluctantly, sliding his cock from your throat. You try to follow, whining as you shift forward, still connected through a delicate line of spit and precum, stretching thin as he pulls you back with a firm hand in your hair. He breaks it with his fingers, letting his thumb catch the dribble of it against your chin. He offers the digit, and you obediently take it in your mouth to suck the mixture off. Your eyes are still wide, pleading. He smiles softly.

‘Not gonna last like that, baby,’ he mutters. ‘Wanna feel you this time.’

You pout, words slurred in your pleasure filled haze, eyes heavy lidded as you hold his gaze.

‘Wanna watch you come every way. Wanna make you come every way. Wanna - wanna taste it, wanna feel it, want you to cover me -’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he grits, cock throbbing painfully at your words, head spinning. He never thought he’d hear you talk like that, cock drunk on the edge of your bed, mouth all sad without his dick in it. ‘Get this off.’ he hisses, tugging again at the hem of your dress, pulling it up as you hold up your arms. It comes easy, exposing your bare pussy, soft skin of your stomach, plush flesh of your breasts.

There's so much blood south of his brain Frankie thinks he might pass out.

He bends to kiss you, groping at your tits again, fingers swiping fleetingly between your legs to find you still soaked.

‘Perfect,’ he growls, ‘So fucking perfect.’

You whimper, backing up across your sheets. He follows, both knees dipping onto the mattress, tongue searching for yours, pecks and nips pressed to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

Your hands find purchase wherever they can, squeezing the tops of his arms, nails grazing the skin, grasping the meat of his hips, tracing the contours of his belly, squeezing and stroking his cock. A deep groan rumbles in his chest again, and he's breaking the kisses to divert and scoot back against your pillows. You crawl to him, eye contact only broken as his eyes flick over your shoulder, and he freezes, shivers. You smile wickedly, guessing at what he can see. You pause between his legs again, lowering your head to kiss at his base, cup his balls, arching your back a little more so he can really see the angle you’re exposed at in the mirror behind you.

He doesn’t know where to look. Where your mouth and hands are, teasing at his cock again, or where he can see your glistening pussy, tilted up, shining, ready.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

He reaches over, curling his body around yours to land a firm smack against your ass. You whimper at the contact, hot pant of air against his skin, eyes glassy again as he groans, watching the flesh ripple, watching the claim he has staked begin to form.

You move to kneel, coming face to face, your eyes wide, wanton, desperate.

‘Fuck me, Frankie,’ you whisper, pleading. ‘Please, fuck me -’

He shakes his head, kissing your temple.

‘Gotta get you ready first, bebita,’ he breathes, pulling you closer, moving your legs. ‘Come here for me, turn around. Come closer. Like this.’ He arranges you so you’re sat, cradled between his legs, your back to his front. He spreads your legs wide, hooks them with his ankles so you can’t close them. Runs his hands down your body, your eyes tracing his movements - every squeeze, every pinch, every circle he draws.

Your breath hitches as his hands travel lower, parting your folds again, feathering over your clit. You turn your head to speak directly into his ear.

‘Don’t tease, Morales.’ You purr. He chuckles, turning to peck at your lips.

‘I won’t, princesa.’

You cry out as he sinks two fingers inside your heat, making good on his promise. Your chin dips, but his spare hand comes up to cradle it gently, angling your head so you can watch him work you in the mirror. The two of you rendered speechless for a moment - just gasps, moans, the slick sounds of your cunt in the room. His dark eyes on yours over your shoulder, in the glass. The firm press, scissor, pulse, of his fingers inside you.

The silence is only broken by a ragged moan from you as he presses against that delicious, spongy spot tucked away inside you, and he chuckles in response.

‘Look at you, baby,’ he breathes in your ear, ‘So pretty. Been thinking about you like this all week.’

You moan as he curls his fingers at a particularly delicious angle, pressing the meat of his palm against your clit. Your hand closes around his wrist, keeping him there, pulling him away - a mix of both. The feel of him is too wonderful to be rid of, too much to take.

‘Longest fuckin’ week of my life.’ He growls, biting at your earlobe, flicking his wrist faster again, drawing a desperate cry from your lips. A pressure building, your pussy obscene in the quiet, so fucking wet, and you can hear Frankie thinking it, marvelling at how your body responds, how you leak and clench and writhe in his grip.

There’s that pressure building again, your breath heaving in your lungs, cunt getting slicker, tighter. Frankie coos in your ear, his other arm still banded around your middle. You hiccup, moan, arch your back against him.

‘Fuck,’ you murmur, ‘Fuck, close.’

He hums, tracing his nose along the fine skin of your neck.

‘Yeah?’ He says, voice cracking a little. ‘S’that good? Tell me. Tell me it’s good, baby.’

You whine again, thrashing your head against his shoulder, driving your hips down onto his fingers, pleading for more.

‘So good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie. You have no idea.’

You can feel him rutting against you - slowly - all velvet skin, wiry hair, sticky wetness. His mouth pressed to your shoulder, licking, nipping, kissing alternately, his fingers pressed deep inside you, other arm loosening around your middle, hand playing messily with your clit. His eyes in the mirror, trapping you there with him. Unashamed in their exploration of your body, greedy, watching your soaked cunt pull him in, the sopping sounds she makes as she tries to hold him there. You’re surprised at how hot it makes you feel, how wanted, how turned on. The streak of slick and sweat against your skin, Frankie's wet fingers that spread it there.

You whine again, skin burning, glistening with sweat. Tip your head back, onto his shoulder, to nip his skin impatiently between your teeth.

‘Frankie,’ you murmur, breath sweet against his ear, ‘Wanna come on your cock.’

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Is that what you want? You want my cock?’

You moan again, louder, drunk on the feeling between your legs, his continued movement.

‘Yes.’ You hiss, as he sucks a mark onto your neck.

‘Say it. Need to hear you say it.’

‘Want your cock. Need your cock, Francisco.’

You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head in the glass of the mirror, and then he’s moving fast, with precision.

He eases his fingers from your pussy, gentle, not a drop of hesitation. He pushes your hips until they rise, tilting your whole body forwards until you’re on your knees, hands pressed into the mattress. You feel like jelly, so loose and warm-limbed you’re sure you could be moulded into any shape he wished.

‘Good girl,’ he mumbles, pressing hot kisses against your shoulders, down your spine. ‘Good fucking girl.’

His hands are on your hips, ready to move you, but in a second, you’re turning to face him. He’s watching you, reverent, like he can’t believe you’re here, that he’s here. You place a knee on either side of his, one hand pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck, titling his head back so you can slant your mouth against his, licking between his lips as you lower yourself gently, rocking your soaked folds over his sensitive cock.

The movement knocks the air from his lungs, mouth stuttering against yours, unable to kiss you back. Feeling you on his fingers was one thing, but having you sliding against him like this is a whole nother. You giggle at him, and a whimper clears the back of his throat.

‘You okay, baby?’ You smirk, voice hoarse. He supposes it’s only fair, now you’ve got the upper hand. He lets you keep it, hands roving desperately, kneading and pulling at the flesh of your ass, mouth dipping to your nipple, letting you glide over him. Now processing how hard he is, how painfully his cock throbs.

He’s ready to be greedy, ready to find out how he fits inside you.

He pulls you up, closer, by the hips. Grips his cock firmly between your legs, swipes it between your folds, making sure to bump against your clit just to hear you whimper.

You brace your hands against his chest as you rest your leaking hole against him, the tip just breaching the tight ring of muscle. You whine, scratching fine lines into his skin.

He swallows - so handsome. Dark curls, dark eyes. Strong body, a body that feels like home, like someone who has always kept you safe, has always made you feel seen.

‘Look at me,’ he says, for the second time. You drag your eyes to him, stalling your movements. He waits until he knows your brain has caught up with your body. ‘Slowly.’

You nod, lowering yourself against the blunt head of his cock, clenching your teeth at the sweet stretch. He anchors you with one hand cupped to your cheek, the other firm at your ass, listening to your hiccuped moans, your shuddering breaths, releasing his through his teeth. You’re so warm, so wet, so tight.

And he fills you to the brim. Every inch you take a marvel, pressing against every nerve ending, every tender spot, like he was made for you. You settle when you reach his base, clit catching on the wiry hairs there, rocking slightly to feel him even better, letting your slick soak him, feeling yourself pull tight, loosen, ebb, flow.

You knock your forehead with his, finding his eyes. Bright, fiery, needy. You close the space between you, kissing him as you pant together. Feeling so full, so open, forgetting every worry, every niggling doubt. You rest your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, shaking as you lift your hips, feeling the thick glide of him, clenching, releasing, dropping back down slowly, again, listening to the squelch of him moving inside you, desperate, needy little noises leaving your mouth. It’s intoxicating - the more you move, the louder you get, the louder he gets. Deep rumbles of praise, heavy grunts, hands soothing, pinching every inch of skin they can find. You grind a little more on the downwards movement this time, keening at the scrape against that bundle of nerves again, choking on your words.

‘God.’

‘That’s it, Bu- baby.’ He groans, and a huff of amusement leaves you at the slip.

‘What, am I not Bug anymore?’

It’s breathless, your tease, not your usual gnashing comeback. He groans, teeth grazing the bud of your nipple.

‘I am not using the nickname my daughter gave you when I’m inside you.’

You giggle at the thought, body clenching a little. Frankie moans, open mouthed, eyes squeezing shut, hands grasping at you.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he gasps, ‘Holy fuck, please don’t laugh. I’ll come.’

You hum, giving in, dragging your body up and down again, smooth, slow, letting the feeling, the warmth, the pressure, the ache begin to build again. You lean back a little, one hand on his thigh, one loose on his shoulder, and the change in angle has you crying out, cursing, Frankie watching your face before his eyes fall down your body - beautiful, glistening in the orange light. The curve of your waist, the quickening bounce of your tits, and then your cunt. Watches as he disappears inside you, watches as you stretch around him, watches the glisten of your wetness down his length, where it’s tacky at the bottom, staining the two of you where you’re connected. You reach back with your other hand, moving faster, leaning back further so he can really watch you fuck yourself onto him.

Your movements grow hungrier, a little more uncoordinated; stomach tensing, mouth hanging open, cut off, broken cries of his name, feeling yourself wind tighter, spill more onto his lap. He runs a large palm down your body, thumb finding your clit, catching it, rubbing firm circles. He feels you clench for real this time, whole body shuttering at the feeling, your hand clutching his.

‘Fuck, Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Please, I’ll -’

You’re cut off as he changes his rhythm, his pressure, finding the pace that makes you moan with every breath, mouth stretching in a smile.

‘You’ll what, princesa?’

You whine, huffing, thighs burning, release so close you can almost taste it.

‘Motherfucker -’ you bite, no real venom.

‘Words, baby.’ He coos.

‘I’ll come,’ you pant, ‘Frankie - I - I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, please, gonna come, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie -’

You sob, loudly, euphoric as your orgasm shatters through you, body cramping, juddering. A gush of liquid between you, your pussy squeezing him tight, so tight -

‘Good girl, bebita, such a good fucking girl -’

And he’s flipping you, deftly, a hand protecting your skull, so you’re on your back, mind and body reeling as you continue to shudder, still calling out for him, nails carving pink half moons in his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, the angle deepening, his body pressed flush to yours.

‘Fuck,’ he snarls, ‘Feel like heaven, baby, wanna watch you come every day, every hour, all the time -’ he’s babbling, he knows he is. But he’s caught up, entranced by how you look beneath him, his thrusts sloppy already, watching your eyes roll back, your chest heave, tits bounce. Lower again, where he’s fucking into you, soaked with your release. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, gently tilting your head to make you see what he’s seeing, to watch him fuck you.

You clench painfully around him, gasping - shit, Frankie, oh my God, so good, so good - your body rallying for another, senses overwhelmed, aflame with pleasure. He clutches your thigh, hitches your legs higher up his waist. Licks at your pulse point, sucks different mark there, leaning back to take you in again.

‘Look so pretty, bebita,’ he moans, ‘All fucked out on my cock like this.’

And it’s like a switch is flicked. Frankie sees it pass through your eyes, a wicked glimmer. The way the corners of your lips twitch, even as your eyelashes flutter at the sensation of him drawing his thick cock back out of you, even as your body whirs with a second orgasm.

‘Yeah, baby?’ you coo, ‘You like how I look taking your cock?’

He can’t say anything in reply, mouth only hanging open as you start to talk again.

‘Like how I look when I’m full of you? Wanna be full of you all the time, Frankie. Wanna feel you even when you’re not inside me like this. Wanna - fuck - wanna feel you dripping out of me -’

He groans roughly, almost animalistic.

‘Don’t say that.’ He grits.

You moan at his tone, fingers twisting through his hair, mind getting hazy as you flutter around him.

‘But I want it, Francisco,’ you rasp, ‘Want you to come inside me, want you to fuck me full of you -’

He bares his teeth a little, nipping at your bottom lip. Balls drawing up, heat at the base of his spine, faster, harder -

‘You want that?’

‘Please, Frankie.’

He moans again, sees stars when he closes his eyes, as your whimpers pitch higher.

‘Gonna come,’ you whisper, ‘Come, Frankie, please, come inside me -’

You’re not sure who’s first, you’re not sure who’s louder. A shout of your name, his name, ripping through the air, you clamping down around him, the jerk of him inside you as he paints your walls with his cum, fucking it into you as long as he can, the squelch, the sensitivity drawing out your highs.

He eases when it gets too much, rolling you onto your side, keeping you full until he softens enough to slip out, kissing all over your face. You share breath, teeth knocking against each other, tongues gliding along lips, whining as you feel him begin to drip out of you.

Fingers slipping against his damp skin, pulling him close, sharing whispered secrets, tugging him closer still when he starts to harden again against your thigh.

Hours slip by, the darkness behind the curtains blooming into something like daybreak. He tastes you again, fills you again, you make sure to take him in your mouth.

And when the first birds begin to sing, you are fast asleep in each others’ arms.

His fingers are tracing your shoulder, your face pressed to his chest, murmuring conversation in the light of the morning. Sun stretching through your clumsily closed curtains, rustle of the trees outside the window, cracked open for fresh air when the scent of sex was laying heavy in the room. Legs tangled together, further entwined in your sheets.

In a moment of quiet, Frankie speaks.

‘Your picture’s fallen over.’

Twisting your head, you look to what he’s pointing out and snort, burying your face in his warm skin.

‘What?’ He asks, amusement curling the word.

You pull a face.

‘It didn’t fall over. I turned it over.’ You admit.

A beat.

‘Why?’

You rest your chin on his pectoral, taking in the crease of confusion between his brows. You lean to kiss it away, because you can, now. Because you never have to think about it without doing it again.

You squeeze your lip between your teeth.

‘It’s uh - it’s a picture of me and Dad.’

He frowns again, eyes searching your face. You exhale.

‘I didn’t… I didn't want him to - see?’

He chuckles softly, pink dusting his cheeks as he swipes a hand across his jaw, thinking, remembering.

‘I didn’t see you do that -’

‘I did it before I came over.’

You cringe a little at the confession. Silly now that it’s happened, but still.

‘Before…?’

You nod. Mhm. A smile teases at his lips, eyes lighting with mischief.

‘But we didn’t - I mean - we didn’t plan it -’

‘I know,’ you groan, hiding your face again. ‘I just had a feeling.’

Frankie snorts, squeezing your hip.

‘Good feeling, baby.’

‘Asshole.’ You giggle, nipping his skin between your teeth.

He laughs again, shifting you in his arms so he can hold you properly.

‘Good job I didn’t try anything last week, then,’ he smiles, ‘Can’t have him thinking I’m not a gentleman -’

‘Frankie, you literally came in your pants -’

He gasps in mock offence, squeezing you tighter.

‘And so did you!’

You laugh, properly, against him, chests leaping against each other. You press your lips to his neck as he presses his to your hair.

‘Hell of a first kiss, though.’ He chuckles.

He feels you tense as your heart leaps in your ribs.

One last secret.

He loosens his grip, watching you, a flicker of worry cooling his joy. You chew your lip, brow furrowing, eyes flicking from somewhere in the middle distance to meet his.

‘What, baby?’ He whispers. You inhale deeply.

‘How much do you remember from Pride?’

He grimaces, relieved at your answering smile.

‘After eleven? Not a lot.’

You hum, pulling yourself from his arms. He lets you go reluctantly, watching as you stand. Your gorgeous body - gorgeous curves, the places he’s gotten to know so well over the last few hours, the marks that have begun to bloom after his lips and teeth.

You rummage around in a dresser draw, turning to face him with a single thin, glossy strip of paper in your hands. You step back towards him, eyes catching on the way he's sprawled out before you. Golden skin, broad shoulders, one hand behind his head, bicep flexed. One leg thrown out from beneath the covers, his modesty - or what’s left of it - barely hidden by your sheets. A flash of heat moves through you. You bite your lip.

‘Do you remember the photobooth?’

‘Mhm. A little.’

You nestle back down next to him, the slip of paper still clutched to your chest. Your eyes dart to his again.

‘Our first kiss wasn’t last week.’

‘What?’

His eyes are wide, mind whirring as you hold out the paper for him to take.

A series of five shots of the two of you. Laughing, close, and then with mouths pressed together, hungry. The last one messy, still locked in a searing kiss, but he can see the drunk grins peeking through.

He exhales heavily.

‘We kissed at Pride?’ He asks, bewildered.

You nod, twisting your hands in your lap.

‘We did.’

He looks back at you, still confused. A little worried, a little disappointed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he breathes, ‘I don’t remember -’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with yours.

‘Neither did I, baby.’ You say, kissing his curls.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

You suck a breath in through your teeth, shrug.

‘You didn’t remember, and I - I panicked. Didn’t know if it was just a thing for you or, you know, a thing.’

‘Like last week?’

You nod, sombre.

‘Like last week.’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re my favourite idiot, you know that?’

You scoff, brightening.

‘Dick. I had no idea -’

‘I love you.’

The simplicity of it takes your breath away. Winds you, catches you right in the chest, battering against your heart.

His eyes are shining, and the truth of it is there. Has always been there. Somehow, you just never saw it before.

I love you.

The weeks of wanting, of worrying. Of denying, of lying awake thinking about it -

‘I love you, too.’

His eyes crease at the corners, mouth lifting, tongue peeking from between his teeth.

‘Yeah?’ He breathes.

‘Yeah.’ You whisper. He swallows.

‘Think a part of me always has.’

There’s a prickle in his throat, heat behind his eyes. He wonders when it happened for you.

Wonders whether you had him from that first glimpse from Lucia’s room, from searching for bugs in your yard. Your tenderness with his daughter, the laughter in your eyes. From those moments you curled into his side on his sofa, when he’d come home, so relieved to find you in his house.

Knows, for sure, you’d had him long before his realisation on his porch, sand still between your toes.

He clears his throat, tangling your fingers.

‘That mean I get to call you mine, now?’

You smile, eyes watery. Hey, neighbour. I’m Frankie - from across the way. His curls in the sunshine, water balloons over fences. His broad back to you as he cooked dinner, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders. His gentle hands as you cried, phone calls through kitchen windows.

‘Please.’ You whisper.

The lightness in his beam is infectious, a tear spilling over as he kisses you and kisses you. Mine. Mine. Palms skating over skin, tangled in hair, an endless moment in morning sunshine. Your heart swells impossibly, stitched together, glued together by this man in your bed. You don’t know when he did it. But he holds it now, whole, fixing something you know your Dad never wanted to break.

‘Thank you.’ You rasp against his lips, chin wobbling. He doesn't ask what for. He knows, just by the look in your eyes. He shakes his head minutely, voice thick, quiet.

‘My honour.’

He holds you close, bodies melded together. You never want to let go, the tightness in your chest easing again as he makes you laugh, as you say it again, outloud, breathless. Mine. The whispers only broken by rumbles of noise outside, voices -

Deep voices in his backyard you can hear even from here. You groan into each others’ mouths, the sound dissolving into a laugh.

‘They’ll be wanting breakfast.’ You giggle quietly.

‘They can cook,’ he mumbles against your lips, ‘I’ve got mine right here.’

He squeezes your ass, dragging your hips against his thigh. Still wet, leaking from the two of you, something heating in his chest at the thought.

You hum, not helping the case by kissing down his chest.

‘Should really say goodbye at least.’

He grunts as you nibble at his belly, neither acquiescing or disagreeing.

‘And then,’ you continue, ‘I remember something about you keeping me in bed for a week?’

You pause, looking up at him. He curls a hand around your cheek, so tender.

‘Me too.’ He whispers.

You grin as you clamber back up his body, planting a firm kiss against his lips.

‘Couple of hours,’ you promise yourself, ‘And then I have you all to myself.’

He chuckles against your lips, an eyebrow lifting, repeating your words from a week ago - a lifetime ago - back to you.

‘We’ve got the whole summer, Bug.’

You giggle, wiggling your eyebrows.

‘Plenty of time for a ride in the sky, then, too.’ You grin, nudging him.

He presses a long, sweet kiss to your mouth.

‘I’d take you to the moon if I could.’

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: on call

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hwadess · 7 months

Text

the way you bend, the way you break (c.bg)

so i did a poll for this a couple of days ago, and it had about 90% of you guys say that you guys wanted me to post this sub!beomgyu fic!!! sooooo… here it is. i am so embarrassed to post this but ill be fine omg, here’s yall food!

MDNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

smut warnings: sub!beomgyu x dom!femreader, pet name usage (good boy, puppy), reader gets called mommy, masturbation (m), handjob, piv, sex flashbacks, borderline mindbreak on beomgyu’s end i can’t lie, dacryphilia/crying during sex, beomie so needy fr, nothing more i think.

word count: 1,197 i think. pretty sure

song i wrote this to:

smut is under the cut!

beomgyu just couldn’t seem to help himself. his brain was working overtime. god… the thought of you—naked, sitting above him looking down at his shivering frame—floods his mind. the blankets discarded to the sides of his bed does nothing to help his body stop feeling as if it’s on fire, his skin hot to the touch all over. his breathing becomes much heavier, nearly beginning to pant as he feels cock twitching in his pajama pants, slowly getting more hard and heavy the more he thinks about you.

you, oh my god.

an absolutely sinful memory plays back in his hazy mind of the last time you had your pretty hand wrapped gently around his swollen cock, letting him fuck up into your fist in such a desperate way that it was almost pathetic. “my my…. so needy my puppy….” he can hear you say so clearly, although it’s just his thoughts tormenting him.

he sighs heavily and whines. fuck, he’s so hard. it hurts. poor baby is so deep in thought that he can nearly feel it, closing his eyes, reliving it.

his vision was so fuzzy but he still managed to make out you looking so sinfully up at him, eyes half-lidded from the sight that is unfolding in front of you, tears pooling at the bottom of his glassy, empty, blown-out eyes. he was meer seconds from the tears building up so much that they down his pink blushed cheeks. you hum in approval when he realizes you noticed he was tearing up, earning a twitch from his poor cock.

“cry, puppy…”

sniffles and pants seep into the atmosphere of the empty hotel room, he can’t take this. his cock was throbbing. his shaky hands that were gripping at the hoodie he was wearing now started to make their way down to free his cock from the confines of his pants. he hisses at the contact, “p-please do something…”

he wraps his long fingers around his length, slightly squeezing it, imagining your fingers were the ones around his cock instead. he subconsciously squeezes a bit tighter, but he doesn’t think about how it’s because it feels a little bit more like how you grab his cock. god he remembers it too well. beomgyu begins moving his fist up and down his length at a slow and steady pace, cock jumping at his own ministrations. trapping his swollen bottom lip between his teeth, making it match the blush spreading across his cheeks.

he’s so overwhelmed, his mind wandering helplessly.

he’s now dizzy, flashing back to when you had him against the sofa. so gone, aching cock pressed up against your clothed cunt, your hips desperately grinding down to spread your wetness over his cock that was begging to be buried in you. “please l-let me put my cock in you p-please…“ beomgyu barely gets out. you laugh, he’s cute. his cock throbbing under your clit just felt too good. “so so so fucking good- aaaah-aah… like that…”

beomgyu begins to pump his leaking cock faster, his eyes rolling back. his hand subconsciously going up and down the whole length as the beads of his precum dribble down into the small space between his hand and his pulsating cock to make the glide a lot easier. “f-fuck…”

he can feel his balls tightening as he remembers more from that same memory, and what it was like when you finally let him shove his cock into your warm, wet cunt after teasing him for so long. losing yourself in the way he gasped out your name weakly, but oh so prettily for you. your soaked velvety walls dragging against your baby’s cock so nicely. beomgyu let’s out a pained whimper at that thought, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open at the memory, spit glistening his bitten lips.

beomgyu can so clearly recall how you immediately started moaning when he was able to let you use his cock, hips noisily slamming down onto his. your hands grabbing at his arms as you try and grip onto his triceps, nails digging into his flesh, leaving deep imprints, making him hiss. using his hand he moves it up your chest to mindlessly grab onto your breasts.

you were getting increasingly wetter each time you lowered all the way onto him as your juices pooled down his cock, dripping onto the sofa at this point. you were “s-so f-fucking wet…” and you could hear it. loud. and the sound only turned him into a braindead puppy, spurring him on to letting you use him as hard as you needed to cum. “feels so g-good..” you growl out, you’re staring down at him in awe like he’s the prettiest boy in this world and he’s going to fucking lose it.

“f-fuck mommy… th-that spot feels so good.” beomgyu moans out just like he did with you. his fist matching that same hard and fast pace you were taking him at in that memory. but, fuck, it will never be as good as your tight cunt creaming all over your puppy’s cock when he hits that exact same gummy spot he’s imagining slamming his cock into right now.

fuuuuck…. he can feel his orgasm coming. fast. hard. s-so hard. his brain is becoming mush. he starts to become a lot more desperate, whimpering so loud that anyone can hear, and throwing his head back as he lets his hips fuck into his fist, now decorated with his precum. he wishes it was your soaked pussy dripping down him instead.

he feels the euphoria of his orgasm get closer, hes pathetically gasping for breath, his large palms gripping the sheets that are now mangled around him, trying to ground himself as much as possible. “aaah fuck… ’m so… close m-mommy….” his head pressing backwards into the pillows, his hair messily spread over his eyes, as your hips fuck back down onto his cock to use his swollen, leaking, dark red cock— but it’s his fist, he remembers.

beomgyu’s eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together as he remembers the feeling of his mommy cumming on his cock, clenching so tightly. the way your legs close and quiver around his also trembling body. the way you become even tighter, cunt suffocating his overstimulated cock, milking out all of your pretty puppy’s cum into your cunt.

“g-god.” he shakily exhales again as he cums, hard. tears finally breaking free down his flushed cheeks and his cum shooting out wildly as he points his cock upwards to let it land on his hoodie, one of his favorite oversized ones that you let him borrow when he goes away, the last of the cum that he works out of his sensitive cock puddles around his shaft and down his hand.

“so messy puppy….“ you hum, collecting the cum leaking out of you on your index and middle fingers and bring it to beomgyu’s mouth to clean it off. “good boy….”

beomgyu shudders. he has to sit there for a second trying to control his uneven breathing.

fuck, he can’t wait to see you soon.

#hwadess fics #hwadess beomgyu #txt beomgyu smut #beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #sub!beomgyu #sub!beomgyu smut #sub!txt smut #sub!txt #txt fic #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #smut #kpop smut

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im-poe-dameron · 12 days

Text

NO LIGHT

a/n: wake up babes a new sith dropped and he's ridiculously hot. <- i wrote that when the episode dropped. and it's taken me a bit to finish. really i got this done out of pure spite, because what the fuck do you mean we're not going to see him again. expect tons more for this man from me and feel free to scream in the inbox cause if there's one thing that will remain, i am down bad for a sith. and all i could say while writing was: i can make him worse. this is the prequel fic to darkness within.

summary: jedi were the light, the path to good in a galaxy draped in darkness. he never called himself a title you'd grown accustomed to. a life that you'd been thrust into as a child. when doubts arise and beliefs shift, you find yourself entrapped in what you were taught to fight against.

word count: 8k

pairing: qimir (darth teeth) x jedi!f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS THIS AIN'T FOR YOU, corruption arc, enemies to lovers, but let's be honest it's more hate fucking, violence, he shows mercy, an unhinged villain obsessed with his lover, biting sort of, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), bad ending if you view it that way.

"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

There was no name for them spoken aloud in the temples. No title for them to wield with pride as the Jedi did theirs. An armor they strapped to their chests before they carried the weight of the word knight. History was not a lesson to be taught, nor overlooked. Yet The Great War still remained fleeting in classes of the past. As if they willed each generation to forget.

You could feel your mouth form around the letters. The quick biting word that solidified in your heart, breaking open your armor the longer you thought about it. It sounded familiar. Each letter a hiss, as poison dripped between your lips. And you wracked your brain trying to remember where you'd heard it before, why the title came with flashes of memories long forgotten and feelings locked away.

Sith.

The darkness that lingered beneath what light the Jedi spread. A plague waiting to be brought forth and wrought upon the galaxy. Yet in the cracks of that obsidian void, you caught sight of a power that still remained. One not even the Jedi could detect within their midst, and yet you somehow latched on to what you found. The glimpse of his abilities far greater than anything you could ever achieve.

Images of his smile as you fought him alongside the people who trained you; those who didn't come home. How he held his lightsaber with the assurance of a man who'd done this before. Who trained in the same halls you did—who followed a path of light before sinking down to the depths of nothingness. He nearly killed you, held your life in his hands, yet his eyes flashed the second you began to fight back.

To show what you'd been hiding beneath the wall they taught you to built. The blockade which kept each emotion, each fear, trapped in your own mind.

You lashed at him with a fervor that scared you. With an anger that nearly consumed you.

And he smiled.

Questions ran rampant in your mind, yet no matter how hard you searched. No matter how far back you looked in the Temple records, there were no answers. The Sith seemed to have vanished from sight and wiped from existence. As if they never existed in the first place. You thought that something might arise, a piece of the past someone forgot to bury, but each time you looked the quicker you realized that this was done on purpose.

The Jedi cleansed the galaxy of evil—yet in doing so created the path for them to return without notice.

Since returning, you found yourself unable to sleep. When the possibility finally arose and you gave into the pleas of your body, his face returned with a vengeance. The smile that refused to leave you. The intrigue that crossed his eyes as he finally found your weak spot—the one thing that broke you. He fought you to survive at first, but as it continued, you suddenly felt like he was testing you. Attempting to figure out what made you tick, what would eventually make you fall.

You ignored whoever lingered in the hallways of the temple, their greetings falling on deaf ears, as you rushed to the training rooms. Night was cresting on the horizon of Coruscant and where you expected to be alone, you were surprised to find people still awake.

Apparently the attack left some Knights on edge. Including you.

"Maker," you gasped, pressing a hand to your stomach—a rush of nausea rolling through your body like a wave.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—he stuck to your mind like a fungi. Growing and feeding off your thoughts; finding joy in the depths of your head. You longed to claw him out, rip him to pieces until that calm serenity of peace finally returned. Until you felt like yourself again.

The room was thankfully empty, save for a few moved seats here and there. You gathered what control you had left on your emotions, practically collapsing onto the floor, each breath a gasp for the familiar Coruscant air. From what you were taught, meditating would help to ease your mind. Or at least assist in making sense of what you encountered, what knowledge you managed to accrue.

"I am one with the Force," you muttered. The words slipped off your tongue with ease, the memory of being a youngling in this very temple returning with a flash. It remained an old saying Masters told their Padawans when they first begin training. A reminder that while you may be powerful, while you may wield it to your own rhythm, you were surrounded and made from it. "And the Force is with me."

Your breathing slowed, eyes falling shut, and you allowed the room to fall away. You sought what lingered in between the liminal space of your mind and the world around you. Teal flickered on the edge of your vision as the darkness began to take shape—morph into something familiar. Cold licked down your spine, causing the hair to stand on the back of your neck, and suddenly you weren't sitting in the Jedi Temple anymore.

Ancient symbols surrounded you, carving that were set into stones older than you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you scrambled to your feet, your hand reaching for your hip—for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Night was all you could see through the cracked open ceiling; the ruins of what you guessed to be an ancient temple. One before the time of the Jedi you knew on Coruscant.

"Tragic isn't it."

You whirled around, eyes wide as the darkness you believed to be empty, began to bleed away. A figure cloaked in black stepped forward. Only this time...he wore no helmet, no mask to hide his signature and the thoughts that surged through your mind. He gave you the freedom to find what he was, to see beyond the boundaries set by the Jedi.

"W-Who are you?" you asked, your voice echoing off the stone walls and reverberating loudly in your own mind.

He smiled, the very look shoving every emotion you fought to keep at bay to the forefront of your thoughts. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

You gulped in another breath. "Sith."

"So they haven't wiped away that memory entirely." He breathed a soft laugh to himself, taking a few steps forward. "I'm surprised by that."

"Surprised..." Your eyebrows pulled together, body going tense with each step he took. "Did they have that information before?"

His smile only grew, the haze in his brown eyes flashing a burnt yellow for the briefest of moments. "Once." His hand reached out, as if to grasp yours, but this was merely in your head. A projection of his energy and yours. Perhaps that's why you relaxed, why you didn't flinch when his Force signature began to twine with yours. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down. "When I was a Jedi."

"You were a Jedi?" you exclaimed, reeling back. "That's not-"

"Possible?"

The echo of his steps rang through the air, stifling the air from your lungs. He walked like a predator. Yet held the stance of someone who couldn't care less about what you wanted, what you might do to him. He gave you his back with ease and didn't blink twice when your hand twitched to the nonexistent weapon at your side. You began to wonder if he brought you here without it on purpose—if he knew that deep down...you wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

"Don't you find it remarkable?" His question threw you off guard as you turned to keep up with his slow prowl.

"Where are we?"

He ignored you. "The Jedi spent so long fighting the Sith. They nearly lost. And yet...no trace of that history remains."

"There's no point to this-"

Stopping a few feet away, he assessed you with a tilt of his head, eyes scrutinizing your very being. "There's always a point. Because despite their grand powers and promises, they are doomed to repeat history."

"Lies," you spit, eyes burning a hole through him.

"The Jedi will fall," he began, coming closer until his face was mere inches from your own. You attempted to step back, to remove yourself from the warmth that bled off his body in waves. But you were stuck—forced to keep still as he finished. "It's in their nature to believe they won't. But they will. One day." His hand reached up, palm cupping your cheek and for a moment...you felt the gentle caress of his touch. "Do you really want to be a part of that?"

"Let me go."

He sighed, eyes falling to your lips without shame. "I can't do that."

"You brought me here. All to tell lies." You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You can let me go-"

"I didn't bring you here," he replied, his lips curling into another grin. "I don't know how...but you found me."

"Found you where?"

His faint touch vanished as he stepped back with a sigh dripping in disappointment. As if you'd confirmed his worst fears. "Ashas Ree."

The planet's name sounded familiar—somewhere on the outer rim. And for a mere moment, you accepted his words as truth. That he didn't call you to this place, but you in fact found yourself here. Yet all it did was open a door you couldn't close. It would give way to the chaos in your mind, to the feelings that begged to run rampant in your heart. That alone would tear you to pieces and you'd have no way to put yourself back.

He leaned in once more, lips a hairsbreadth from your own, and smiled gleefully when you gasped. Your eyes wide and body falling back. Only for him to catch you—his arm a vice around your waist as his hand went to your face, keeping you still.

His touch should have terrified you—sent trills of fear through your body—and yet...you found a piece of something softer underneath his mask of danger. Though he may have turned to the dark side, the part of him that remained a Jedi still existed in the depths of his heart.

With reluctance, you came to the understanding that he wouldn't cause you any harm.

That isn't what he wanted from you.

"I'll see you soon...Jedi."

With a gasp, you collapsed, your head slamming against the temple floor as your eyes flew open. Pain bled into your skull, vision black spotted and hazy, yet you still scrambled to your feet. Your robes caught on your legs, twisting around your body. The beat of your heart echoed loudly in your ears—his face, his voice, still prominent in your mind.

He was a scar on your heart, a reminder that no matter how much you fought against his will, you would never win.

So you ran.

The temple cleared out during the night as you sprinted through the halls, your breath quick and stunted with each slam of your boots against the sleek floor. You weren't sure how long you'd spent with him. How much time passed as you did your best to ignore his advances—to gauge what exactly had to be done. Given that you now knew where he was.

Ashas Ree. A planet taught, yet never visited.

It didn't occur to you to ask why. What was there that made the Jedi wish to ignore it's existence altogether. What had they left behind?

Slowing to a halt, you found yourself stuck between two paths. Each hallway dimly lit and bathed in shadows. You held a choice within your hands. One that could change the trajectory of the Jedi if you were able to succeed. You could forget this instance happened, continue on with being a Knight, and leave this man to someone else.

Or you could find him.

The possibility of putting an end to this problem tasted sweet on your tongue. Yet you couldn't deny the true reason for going.

Curiosity would one day be be the end of you. A saying your master told you repeatedly as you put him through every type of worry he could endure—your need to know more outweighing the logic of whether you should.

The strength he exhibited on Khofar nearly brought you to your knees, his power a force to be reckoned with. Yet there you stood, considering the option of taking him on by yourself. It would conclude with your death—you understood this. Somehow that still wasn't enough to stop you from taking the left path towards the hangar. That alone couldn't deter you from a path already carved by the Force.

A sleek muted gray ship was housed in the corner. You couldn't recall who it belonged to, nor did you find it in yourself to care. Whatever this vision procured—the emotions that began to bleed into your heart with a heady and restless need—there was no fighting against it. The steps taken would lead to an unknown future; a consequence that not even you could see through the Force.

What began would eventually end.

Yet how it would play out remained shrouded in darkness.

Flicking familiar switches and pressing buttons through muscle memory, you felt yourself begin to slide back to your mind. The hum of the ship jumping into hyperspace gave you a moment of silence to converge over your thoughts. To focus on your own Force signature that spread around you with ease.

The teal felt familiar enough to sink down into its depths with a sigh. You shut your eyes, hands falling to your lap, as you allowed yourself to step forward into the darkness. Until you felt it begin to creep up your body—chills spreading down your spine and curling around your stomach.

You expected to be faced with a wall of fear; horrors unlike those you'd seen before. Surprise filled your chest as an image began to take shape—a memory that didn't belong to you.

He sat on the floor of the Jedi Temple. His eyes closed, hands resting on his knees, and hair tied up into a bun that nearly fell free. The black robes he wore with pride were gone, traded for a familiar set of light beige Jedi robes, a perfect match for the ones you wore now.

"You're not focused."

The voice...you'd heard her before. The sharp tone of concise words teaching younglings to train until they reached a level of perfection you only dreamed of obtaining.

Soft brown robes flowed around him as she stalked in a circle. Yet no matter how far you pried, how much you attempted to clear the image, her face refused to form. As if he was merely letting you see a hint of his past. Of the man that once existed in the same place you did. Warmth pooled in your body at that thought; he wanted you to understand him, to see that perhaps you weren't as different as you believed.

"You must feel the Force. Not simply think about it."

He sighed, shifting his body—hair falling free around his face. "I am thinking Master."

"If that were true then I wouldn't be able to see in your mind. Try again."

You stepped closer, lowering yourself to sit across from him—your eyes focused on the furrow of his brows, the way his body tensed. Agitation spread along his form, growing by the second, until you saw it begin to take shape in his mind. Peace didn't come easy. Not when he felt the conflict that plagued his heart, the beliefs he once held true and firm now a distant memory.

Without realizing it, you leaned forward, and pressed your hands atop his. Hoping that in some way, he might feel the soft light of your energy—the warmth of a Jedi's presence willing to help him.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He let out a breath, expression softening. "A...Jedi."

"Good. Who?"

"I...don't know."

"Try harder."

Frustration began to cloud his thoughts, his hands clenching into fists on his legs, and just as you reached for him again, you felt it. The sharp tug of fear against your heart. As if he'd stabbed you with his blade. His eyes flew open, a ragged breath tearing from his throat. You backed away, hands falling to your lap as you awaited the memory to keep going—to see what came next.

Only for him to meet your gaze and see you.

Pain sliced through your head, invading your body as his eyes narrowed perceptively. And you cried out, hands clutching your face, nails scraping against your skin. Maybe if you dug hard enough you'd be able to get him out of your head. You would remove any part of him that weeded through your thoughts, past every wall you'd placed to protect what secrets you held. He picked at your wounds and for a moment you wondered if he held a knife in his hand.

"S-Stop," you forced out past gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you shut your eyes to the image of him, to the vision that must have projected from his own mind. He didn't want you to bear witness to his past. A version of him that once believed in the light, that once hoped he could help the galaxy.

"No," you muttered, shoving him from your mind. But to no avail did it work. He was insistent, angry at knowing you could breach him so easily.

"The power you hold. It will destroy you."

"You don't..." Your nails sliced through the skin of your palm, blood welling to the surface within seconds as you fought against his hold. "You don't know anything."

Though you couldn't see him...you felt his smile. The pleasure he gained simply from finding the weakest point in your mind and running with it. Your power, your strength. For so long you'd feared what you might become, what your abilities could manifest into. Yet they remained a mere figment of your worst nightmares, a reality that may never come to pass.

Meeting him changed that.

He knew it the second he saw you.

"You're scared you won't be able to control it. The darkness you don't show the others."

"Lies," you hissed, beating against the walls he created as he wreaked havoc within your own mind.

"Tell me...does your former Master know you're on your way to me?"

Your heart leapt to your throat, fear numbing every ability you once possessed to fight back. To keep him at bay. No matter how much you wanted to argue, to claim he was wrong, you could feel the truth ring in the back of your mind.

No one knew you were speaking to him. No one knew you'd left.

No one would know why you may never come back.

His laughter echoed through you, burning a hole in your chest large enough for the darkness to seep through.

"Thrilling isn't it? Playing against their rules."

Perhaps if you dug far enough, you could rip the tendrils of him from your mind. Pieces that threatened to ruin you. The darkness promised freedom, yet you could see the repercussions of your actions played out before you like a story already written. Accepting the bittersweet taste of something so tenuous would leave you broken by the end of it. You'd be a shell of the Jedi you grew to become.

A person unwilling to fight back.

"You want me weak." The ship rumbled as you began to claw your way out of his mind and back into yours; the show of your strength echoing through the Force. "You want me to say yes because you know that if I fight back...you won't win."

Whatever retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when your ship left hyperspace—ripping you back to the waking world. You fell back on your elbows with a gasp, eyes zeroing in on the planet directly in front of you. One that you'd seen before. Perhaps it was in a dream, a memory not of your own, but the landscape looked familiar.

Signs of life were sparse—scattered further from where he resided—and part of you felt grateful. If this concluded in a battle you didn't want to be the cause of an innocent's death. The Jedi could never know you came here. The consequences alone would lead you to be cast out of the Order with nowhere else to go.

The ground shook as you landed; the hiss of the door echoed out into the empty clearing. You expected to see wildlife within the thicket of trees that surrounded you. All that showed itself was the glow of the moon above. Illuminating the path carved into the grass by people that came before. You could see the structure ahead—it's grand entrance towered over you, becoming one with the stars that hung above.

Jedi once walked these grounds. Their energy practically hummed in your veins the closer you came to stepping foot on the stone floors. Carvings of old symbols still remained—placed there by a Republic that no longer existed.

An era of Jedi you'd only heard stories of.

The history of the Olde Republic wasn't unknown to the Jedi that existed today. You understood their practices, the ways they viewed the Force. Part of them were lost to the war when they began to form the Order that still remained.

This place should be taught, visited, to keep the remaining legacy of what came before alive. This was the history you wanted to know—a past you could almost picture in your mind.

Stepping into the temple, you felt the energy before you saw it. A constricting echo of nothing that slammed against your chest with a brutality you'd witnessed once before. Gasping, you nearly fell to your knees as the obsidian nature of his Force signature began to seep into the ground. Fighting against it felt futile as it clambered over your body—sinking into your skin. Into the very fiber of your being.

"It's quite beautiful." His voice resonated in the small circular temple.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands slamming to the cold stone floor—your knees collapsing beneath you. "What the fuck is this place?"

Controlled steps echoed behind you, his black robes brushing the ground as he stopped mere feet away. "The past your Jedi have chosen to hide."

"This is-" Your chest tightened, air sucked from your lungs at the feeling of his power laying above you—crushing you to the ground. "No Jedi temple."

He crouched, head tilted and eyes bleeding with a curiosity he held in the forest. "You continue to defend them, even when you know they haven't told you everything."

Attempting to reach for your lightsaber felt as if you were traveling through sand. It swallowed you whole. Ate at your insides and begged for more. You couldn't see past his power, past the darkness that formed over your body. He could have killed you like this; helpless and weak to his own weapon.

Why he never did is what filled your mind; the same mind screaming for a reprieve from what lay beneath the stone. What called out to you in screeching tones.

"Long before you and I walked this galaxy, this temple was created to hide the powers of what they considered dark and unnatural." He left you to lay on the floor, your back against a symbol you recognized. "They built this above a Sith temple to wipe their existence from history."

"The Sith followed the darkside of the Force," you spit between gritted teeth and tensed muscles. Your body was on fire and yet no one had lit the flame. "They wanted to destroy the galaxy."

Though you couldn't see it, you knew his lips curved into a grin. "Why do you have so much faith in an Order that would do the same to you if they knew where you were?"

Anger fueled your actions, gave you the strength to fight against whatever bonds he created against your body. With a piercing scream, your lightsaber hit the palm of your hand, igniting as you scrambled to your feet. He stood with his back to you—entirely aware yet uncaring of how you struggled against his hold. How the darkness began to seep its way to your heart.

You'd never felt this before.

The anger.

The hatred.

The Jedi taught you to quell that part of yourself before it had a chance to rise up. For so long you allowed their teachings to define you. To put a barrier between peace and bitter anguish. And you held that wall up with pride—with the knowledge that you could center yourself at a moments notice.

Yet he managed to tear it all down within one day.

"Good," he replied, his voice a soft rasp that penetrated the wave of emotions which sought to consume you. "Feel it. The anger."

"I am a Knight of the Jedi Order-" Raising your blade, you felt the hum of it sear against the side of your face. "And I am here to enact my duty."

The familiar echo of his blade coming to life—red illuminating the walls before him—sent a thrill of fear down your spine. One he could no doubt feel through the Force. You weren't scared to die. This had been ingrained in your mind since the day the Jedi found you. No, you felt at ease knowing this fight could only end one way.

You were scared of what might become of you if you slipped beneath the might of his powers.

"You have the strength of the old ways." He turned, brown eyes gleaming crimson as he advanced. "But your duty will be your end."

You felt the wall shatter within your mind—pieces crashing to the ground—as you leapt at him. Blades crashed together, lighting up the night with sparks of teal and red. And you felt how much he held back in the forest. He didn't want to kill you then; the way you called to his intrigue kept him from slicing his lightsaber down your spine.

Tonight you could see the difference. The strength he held back within his body.

A swipe of his blade nearly knocked yours from your hand, but the foot you landed to his leg kept you upright. He barely stumbled, regaining his stance with an agility you'd only seen in the Jedi Temples. You lunged again, aiming for his shoulder only to be knocked out of the way. He shoved you back with the Force—grinning at the sight of you enraged.

"You were a Jedi." A crack echoed in the night air as you landed a hit to his saber. "And you betrayed them."

"Betrayal." He spun, circling you as if you were marked prey. "I was cast aside as you will be. I did not betray the Jedi. I chose differently and they didn't accept that."

"You chose the path to darkness." Something sparked down your spine—foreign in its nature. Yet no matter how much you tried to pinpoint its origin, you came up blank.

"Desire," he replied, lips twitching when your eyes went wide. "The emotion you're fighting."

"Stay out of my head."

He took a step towards you—the hum of his lightsaber electrifying the air. "You're confused why you're feeling that way. You shouldn't be."

"Stop-"

"I can answer your questions." The palm of his hand reached for you—offering his touch. Promising peace in spite of the anger you felt. "If you'd like."

Fear seized in your chest and you stumbled back; your saber raised as your last line of defense. "Desire is the path to the darkside."

"And yet you feel it." The closer he stood, the more you felt his pull. A whispered promise tinged with the lust of more; the want for knowledge overshadowed by the truth of his beliefs. "You should feel all they make you push down. I can see that's what you want. Let me show you how."

Temptation ate away at your heart, claiming you in ways you'd never felt before. Yet the dread of what you'd been taught began to strike. Rearing in your mind with a vengeance that overtook what he offered. You flinched, eyes narrowed and hands gripped tightly onto your lightsaber as he took another step.

"No!" Your hand flew out, a push of strength bursting free. He slid back, his hand slamming to the ground to keep himself from falling.

That's when you saw it. His patience snapped, anger breaching the otherwise calm exterior he attempted to give you. This was the Sith that lay beneath his seduction. The man you caught glimpses of in your mind. He surged forward, saber striking down against yours hard enough to rattle your bones. Each hit felt as if you were battling something stronger—older.

You could feel the weariness in your body as you blocked and parried as often as you could. Spinning on your heel, you fell to one knee as he struck down a blow that resonated against the stone. Cracking it along the grooves of the center.

There was no mercy in how he battled. No offering of penance. He was your executioner come to life—the promise of death quick to fall from his tongue as he placed you in a corner.

He dragged you forward with a pull of the Force, crimson clashing with teal as you blocked his strike. And pride swelled in your chest at the sight of the frustration that crossed his face. This was not a fight as quick to the death as Khofar was. You would battle until your final breath and he seemed to realize that the longer you went.

"You die here today," you spit, struggling against his weight.

Pain sliced through your side, burning its way through your body as his lips pulled at the corners. Eyes alight in a way you'd never seen. He was amused by your fight—your willingness to die for the Jedi's beliefs. Yet you did the one thing everyone fell for on Khofar.

You underestimated him.

Yanking the small red blade from your side, he watched your face fall. Fear lacing your heart with a poison that held no antidote. This would be where you would have your last moment. The place he'd leave you to rot. But unlike what came before, he caught you in his hold, lowering you gently to the ground—his hand reaching to cup your face.

"You're afraid," he murmured, thumb tracing the top of your cheek. "You don't want to die."

Whether he could see it painted across your face or find it in your thoughts, the truth remained the same. You didn't want your story to end here. You couldn't fathom a death so small compared to what you'd been raised to believe. Jedi's were warriors. They were the protectors of the light; the keeper of peace.

Yet there you were, withering in the darkness and begging for hope.

"Let me in." His hand slid down to your gaping wound—pressing it gently even as you cried out in pain. "I can help you."

"You'll kill me." Even when you spoke, you understood the gravity of your situation.

He offered you salvation—safety within his hands—and yet you were willing to die. Teachings of your past suddenly felt minuscule as you stared death in the face. This would not be peaceful; you could feel the ravages of your injury begin to seep through your body. And he watched while you grappled with a choice that may very well set the path of your future.

Let me see your darkness. Let me help you control it.

His voice soothed the calamity in your veins. His touch a caress against your open robes—his skin hot against yours.

The look on his face—the clarity in his gaze—may be why you finally relented. Why you nodded slowly, fear traveling through every inch of your already broken body. He watched you with a desire that you'd only read about in stories. A feeling you'd pushed away at every waking moment. One that haunted you like the ghosts of this temple.

"Please," you breathed, hand clutching his robes.

Shifting you higher, he bent his head—his palm covering your wound—and pressed his lips to yours. Electricity streaked down your spine the moment you felt his kiss. His mouth was firm, yet soft in their nature when he gripped you closer. You gasped into it, hand cupping his face as he breached your mind slowly—gently enough to make you look past the act.

Until you felt it.

The warmth that bloomed beneath your skin when your body began to stitch itself together. He pushed the Force of his life through your veins—seeping it slowly into your heart. His thoughts melded with yours, memories of a past you never lived filtered through your mind. But he remained firm and solid in the way he kissed you. His tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you, to take what he never got to on Khofar.

"I can give you more," he mumbled against your cheek, lips sliding along the curve of your jaw. "All that you want."

You would later blame his life Force, or the thoughts you were privy to. But the word yes slipped off your tongue with ease. A quickness that nearly left you startled.

This was forbidden. Every moment spent here would damn you to an eternity of punishment. Yet his touch felt delicious against your body as he pulled up your robes—spreading them open on the floor of the temple. You should have pushed him away. Dragged your lightsaber towards you and sunk it into his chest. And part of you wanted to.

Part of you ached to kill him.

Though no matter how hard you tried...you couldn't discern whether that stemmed from the throbbing heat between your legs. Or the violent echo in your heart.

His eyes caught your bleary gaze—pupils blown out and dark as he regarded you with a searing look you felt to your bones. "How do you want this?"

"I..." A burning heat spilled beneath the skin of your cheeks, spreading down to your chest. "I don't know," you whispered.

He smiled and you couldn't help but notice how he bared his teeth. Hunger etched on every line of his face. He liked that you were lost; that this was going to be the first and only time someone would touch you this way.

He suddenly felt the urge to claim you, call you his in every way that could exist within this galaxy.

Chalking it up to the ache in his body, he waited for your head to clear. "I can show you. Teach you."

A nod of your head set him off, he pulled at your pants until they pooled with the remainder of your robes. You lay bare beneath the moon—hands reaching to touch him—and felt that nothing this pleasurable should be wrong.

How could the Jedi claim a feeling like this as dark? How could having your needs be met be so horrendous to their beliefs?

With a gasp, you rose up on your elbows to watch him hoist your legs over the wide breadth of his shoulders. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs—eyes fixed on the way you practically dripped onto the stone floor. You were given a second to breath before the oxygen was pulled from your lungs and his mouth sealed over your cunt.

"Maker!" Your body fell to the ground in a heap—head dazed as he laved his tongue between your slick folds with a need never shown before.

He groaned at your taste, the tang of you spread along his taste buds, and felt his body throb at the sight of you. So open, so willing to let him devour you whichever way he wanted.

The burning need from earlier began to build in your body, tightening along each muscle and pulling at your stomach. Your hand dug into his hair, fingers curling against his scalp as he sucked at your clit. And you had no choice but to moan—to let your sounds echo in the air and fall back down. If someone were to pass by they'd see you—hear you.

They'd bear witness to how you sank deeper into the darkness with a dazed smile on your lips.

A finger pushed at your entrance, curling into you slowly in search of something hidden within. You were wet—dripping down his hand—and he merely smiled into you. His tongue lapped against you as he sunk into you down to the knuckle. Dragging along your walls until your legs jolted—a cry ripping from your chest at the feeling of him brushing something devastating.

"There." Your head fell back, hips canting up into his face. "Yes. Fuck right there."

The wet echo of his fingers pounding into you drove you mad. He dragged you the brink with a merciless hand and you followed him with a gasped cry of bliss. Something broke within you—spreading through your body rapidly—as your legs shook and toes curled.

He groaned drunkenly into your cunt, eyes half lidded and cheeks stained the color of his lightsaber. You cried out when he sucked at your clit—curling his fingers mercilessly as lust clouded his vision. The unknown feeling you'd fought for so long began to eat at your body. Building along your spine, spreading through your stomach. Until you held no choice but to relent to its power.

"W-What's happening?" you whined, fingers tugging at his hair.

You weren't sure if you wanted to rip him away or keep him close.

The response you got was a heady moan muffled into your slicked thighs. Slick poured out of you, drenching the floor below. Your hips began to shift of their own volition—grinding against his mouth as you struggled for breath. For a semblance of peace against the war of pleasure that ripped you apart.

He sucked hard and the tension in your body snapped.

"F-Fuck!" you sobbed, thighs shaking and body bending off the floor.

Heat blinded you as white flashed behind your shut eyelids—a vibration unlike any you'd felt before now surging up and out of you. The stone floor cracked to the center; your strength sending a wave through the Force strong enough to break anything nearby.

He curled his arms around your legs, clamping down to keep steady. Even as the power rushed through him—tempted to shove him off and across the room. His tongue was a continued to lap at your entrance, drinking down every drop of that you fed into his open and waiting mouth. A broken moan ripped from your chest—body weary and sore—and yet you let him keep going.

Even as he licked until pain spliced up your stomach. A sharp discomfort you relished in.

"Tell me," he panted, climbing his way up your body—his lips trailing a wet line of kisses up your sternum. "Did the Jedi ever tell you about that?"

You grinned, hazy and languid in your newfound bliss. "I want more."

He smiled. "I can give you more."

Whatever convictions existed before you came here died in the back of your mind when his hips settled between yours. The heavy outline of his now hard cock was a firm press against your dripping cunt. It made you whimper. Made you needy. He watched you with glee in his eyes as you reached beneath his robes to feel him—the press your skin against his.

"Do you want it?" he asked softly, thrusting forward and tearing a moan from your throat.

"Yes," you gasped. "Please. I want it."

Moving your hands to rest above your head, he shifted his robes the best he could—the fabric soft against the inside of your thighs. You watched in rapture as he pulled his cock free; the sight of the red and leaking tip only serving to make your mouth water. The need from before now burning quicker. Brighter.

"Stay still," he murmured against your lips, stealing a kiss when you nodded.

Entirely at his will.

You felt him slide through your slick, coating himself with a raspy moan, before he pressed at your entrance. The head of his throbbing cock breaching you slowly. Stretching you with the slight flicker of pain. Only for him to push forward with a gritted moan. His forehead falling to yours as you gasped for air—for anything that might keep you latched to the surface of the planet.

"So perfect," he managed to bite out, his hips finally atop yours.

Your mouth fell open at how full you felt. How he pressed against your walls and carved a place for himself inside your body. Whatever path you might have taken before tonight vanished before your very eyes. This was always meant to be your future.

He is what you were led to.

"Okay?" His eyes met your blurry gaze—tears dripping down into your hair. "Speak to me love."

A ragged breath echoed in the temple. "'M good."

His lips curled up. "I'm going to move now."

"Will it hurt?" you asked, hesitancy lingering in your voice.

The grin bloomed into a smile as he shifted his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and striking against your walls. Pushing the spot he found before. Only this time the brief tendrils of pleasure burned through you like a roaring flame.

"Oh-"

"You like that don't you?" You nodded frantically, hands still obediently above your head. "Such a pretty thing. So willing."

"Yes," you whined, legs curling around his hips with each thrust.

The reverence from before slowly faded each time he plunged into your cunt. His groans muffled into the skin of your shoulder. He fucked you with a passion that would linger. A feeling you'd search for in the middle of the night—begging for the release you once had. His teeth scraped against your skin, fingers digging sharply into your hips, and you jolted when he shifted the angle.

Pounding down into you and pulling free sounds you'd never made before.

"All mine to have," he breathed against your cheek, lips catching yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongue. "They would dare to throw away someone to perfect."

"Maker I'm gonna-" Your head fell back, eyes screwed shut as the tension began to build again.

"Yes," he gasped, cupping your ass to help your stunted movements. "Cum for me. Give me everything."

The pleasure eviscerated you. Slammed into your body with a vengeance and ripped every doubt you had about him from the very root up. He moaned against your chest as you came with a scream. Your thighs clamping around his and body curling up in search of his heat. A hand latched onto your back, holding you close, as you drenched his cock until it smeared on the inside of your thighs.

You couldn't find your way out of this maze. The darkness shrouded you in a layer of warmth—seeping into your body with ease. Yet that isn't what horrified you. That isn't what made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as he chased his own release.

What scared you was that you liked it.

You longed for it.

He came with a hoarse shout, spurting into you and filling you with warmth that you felt spread throughout your body. It consumed you. Welcomed you with a heady kiss and the promise of more. And you drank it down like the finest glass of wine.

The lingering echo of your Force signature still flickered in the background. You refrained from reaching for it. Content to remain in this river of peace that sank you down to the bottom.

His lips found yours, tongue sliding hotly into your open mouth. You returned his kiss with a fervor you didn't know you held. A wanting that now knew what the full extent of desire felt like. A need that would crave more.

"I-I liked it," you whispered against his lips. His cum slowly dripped out and around his softening cock. You yearned for him to show you again. "All of it."

"Good," he murmured. "There's so much more to show you."

"When?"

"Soon," he said, gathering you in his arms with a kiss to your forehead. "I promise my love. You'll know all of it."

You awoke to the echo of birdsong. The bright ray of sunlight blared down through the ceiling, turning the once cold stone beneath your skin hot. It burned you as you shifted, arm searching for the warmth of another that lay beside you.

Sometime in the night he began to tell you the history of what he knew. The people that once walked these temple floors. The Sith whose memory still echoed beyond time and space. This was their legacy. A path that you would soon take as your own. Yet the doubt of what it would cost still lingered at the edges of your mind; the reality you would soon have to face.

He would be hunted.

Sought out by the Jedi who would want revenge for what happened on Khofar. By joining him, you would be setting yourself up for a fate worse than death.

When your touch came up empty, your eyes fluttered open. Expecting him to be mediating somewhere nearby, you sat up still naked from hours before. A sore ache bloomed between your thighs, spreading down your legs. Each bite he placed on your skin remained tender to the touch, and you smiled at the memory they would incite.

"Hello?" you called, hoping to draw him back. To hopefully entice him for more.

Silence was all you were met with as you stood on shaky legs. Gathering your robe, you draped it around yourself—your lightsaber already clutched in your hand. You searched for his presence in the Force; picked through the life on this planet in the hopes of finding the one you recognized.

Only to be left with an empty voice.

An expanse of nothing.

Pain sliced through your heart, shattering a piece you didn't know existed. You watched it fall to the floor—breaking you open without mercy. Without forgiveness. What hope you had that he might find you again diminished as you gathered the rest of your robes and headed back to your ship still in the clearing. The truth of what occurred, now a solid belief in your mind.

Last night you offered yourself up to the darkside of the Force and this was your consequence.

To be left alone, waiting for your lovers return that would never come.

#this took me so long to write but it's finally HERE #qimir x f!reader #qimir x reader #qimir x you #qimir x y/n #qimir smut #the stranger x reader #the stranger x you #the stranger x y/n #the stranger smut #my writing #the acolyte

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raitonsfw · 8 months

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Hi I’d like to request for Dazai x fem!gf reader and ab that Dazai couldn’t get the thoughts off of his mind since the night before reader allowed him to finish inside for the first time in their relationship and it’s just kinda got him weird ( not in a bad way ) but in a way he wants to do it again until he dies? Also breeding kink? Thank you,

𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞

synopsis: Dazai had pleaded day after day to let him cum inside you and you were always so worried about the consequences, a simple ‘no’ leaving your mouth every single time. But the one time you say yes after he begged for it, yearning for it from the very depths of his arousal, Dazai becomes absolutely obsessed with breeding you. And the next day is nothing but new territory for you as he pushes you to your limit, over and over again…and well, guess it’s time to start shopping for the nursery.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (holy fuck y’all), fem!reader, needy-fucked out-desperate!dazai, breeding kink, cunnilingus, cum eating, creampies (a lot of them), squirting, overstimulation, dubcon, slight masturbation (dazai), dirty talk, yearning, begging, desperation, rough p in v, many positions (missionary, doggy style, mating press), dazai has insane stamina, talks of having children, four rounds (probs unrealistic but who cares?), aftercare, pet names (baby, princess, darling, my love)

a/n: i got really really really carried away, my bad. Fr my sex probably wrote this instead of my mind, im so ashamed of myself. anywho, enjoy my version of breedy dazai! wc: 1.5k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

“Please, Y/N, one more time.” You heard Dazai beg in your ear, his cock sliding into your already abused cunt and you let out a tiny bruised noise. “I promise it’ll be the last round.”

How did you get like this exactly? Underneath him for what felt like an eternity with cum and your squirt dripping down the backs of your thighs and pooling thick against the bedsheets? You knew it had something to do with last night, but your mind was so hazy you couldn’t quite puzzle the pieces together.

“Can I, baby? Please, just one time.” “Fuck, ‘M so close, need to cum so badly.” You remembered Dazai groaning last night, the memory finally faltering up in your mind. And of course, you weren’t thinking– you said ‘yes’, moaned, practically whined for his seed as his dick drilled into your sweet spot over and over and over– You should’ve thought it through but as you heard the telltale grunts from Dazai, burying his head into your chest with a heady moan, your senses became distorted and you begged for him to fill you up.

And he sure fucking did his job too, ropes of cum spurting against your cervix as he stilled inside you, pressing up against it harshly. You couldn’t feel anything else but his cum at the time, it was so wet and so warm inside you as your entire body went numb– and your mind too. You definitely thought once or twice about having his kids but that fortunately brought you back from your sublime wanting, reaching down for Dazai’s hand and squeezing it tightly as he shuddered against you.

You remembered his face when he pulled out, his cock damp with your arousal and the tip wet with remnants of the cum he fucked inside of you and you could see something whirling through his brain as he sat there for a second on his haunches, collecting himself. Dazai had watched his cum drip out of you and run down your folds like it was some sort of prize he had won– and was waiting for it to be given to him. Before you blink off the orgasm that had piled through you, his tongue had caught wind of your leaking cunt and you arched your back off the bed, clutching the brunette’s strands with a whimper.

“Dazai–!”

“Mm?” He had looked up at you, with those precious eyes of his still completely clouded with lust and you let out a sharp moan as he plunged his tongue into you, lapping at all the cum he had filled you with. It was possibly the hottest thing you ever witnessed in your life as his bandaged arms came to rub at the sides of your hips, his mouth moving skillfully against your folds and you felt his tongue curl to get every drop. Dazai tasted you through yet another orgasm, it wracking your body with immense pleasure and once you unclenched from his pointed tongue, he crawled onto you with a fervent kiss.

“What’s gotten into you, my love?” You had asked him once you managed to pull away, carefully rubbing down the extent of his chest, soothing the small scars that shrouded the frailness of his figure.

“Nothing, princess. I just really wanted to taste you.”

And maybe breed you. Dazai didn’t know what to do– ever since he had felt your pussy clench around him as he leaked into you– finally filled you up with his cum, his mind had been constantly begging for it again. The entire next day you were gone, he had been at a loss for words– his dick awfully hard in the confines of his trousers as he paced around the living room in distress. He tried to get himself off, slicking his hand up and down his cock with heavy intent on finishing… but he wanted to finish inside you– it drove him nearly mad as the precum bubbled at his tip but never truly let him release.

He waited for you all day, all fucking day and when you walked in; you were basically jumped. He hauled you over his shoulder with a kiss and a promise, something you were so deftly aware of and you got excited– you wanted to see what he had in store. Your boyfriend was quite theatrical, you could say; sometimes he’d end up with his hands tied in his own worn out bandages and other times, you’d end up with marks in places you didn’t even know he could reach. Very eccentric was your Dazai, the master of heeding your sex like it was dessert served on a silver platter.

And oh, that’s right– you’ve been in three different fucking positions now. The first time, you two didn’t even make it to the bed; he threw you against the plush pillows of the sofa and ripped open your blouse like it was a present, mouthing at the lacey bra you wore underneath. His fingers snaked into your panties like second nature, finding your clit and rubbing against it to warm her up. And a few minutes later, he sunk into you with a groan as you sucked him into your tight heat. And guess what he had started to beg as soon as started to thrust deep inside you?

“Baby, please can I cum inside again? Would mean the world ‘t me… I wanna–” And your response had been the same as the night before. A yearning yes, complete with a moan of his name to spur him on even more.

You could feel the cum seeping out of you as he laid you down onto the edge of the bed, the second round much more languid than the first. Dazai rolled his hips into you, peppering kisses down your chest and through the crevices of your neck and all you could do was push back against him in earnest as another orgasm crept up, threatening to burst in your nerves and it overtook you with a tremble. He came with a whimper of your name, seemingly more desperate than before, his eyes glancing down to your cramped pussy and watching the cum ooze out of you.

“Need you still, can we go another round?”

You were flipped onto your tummy, his hand pushing against it so you can get into the position he needed you in– on your hands and knees, with your back arched beautifully to show the swell of your ass. Before you could complain about feeling weak, he plunged into you. Your knees nearly collapsed in on themselves, but Dazai held you up with the hand on your tummy and plowed into you like it was his last day on Earth. And yet again, you chased your overwhelming orgasm as he bruised your cervix with every thrust.

This time was different as a wave of heat rushed over you– some type of pressure you’ve never felt before and you couldn’t even warn him as you squirted all over his cock with a shaky cry. You tightened around him, pulling his third orgasm from him inadvertently. “H-Holy shit, baby…”

And that’s how you got here, with Dazai pleading in your ear for one more fucking round.

You were in another position now; he moved you into a mating press and your legs shook with overstimulation as he held onto them. You honestly weren’t sure if you could cum a fourth time and it was the same with Dazai, but all he wanted you to do was milk him dry. He never expressed it to you, but you knew in the back of your mind that you made him into this monster, this goddamn fucker who wouldn’t stop til his cock leaked out nothing.

“Doing so good for me, darling. S-So fucking good. Wanna breed this pussy, till you're so full– till you have no choice but to have my children.” His eyes were rolling back as you stared up at him with dazed eyes, his words hitting you just right and your brain short-circuited with such a dangerous desire. His entire body had started to shake from overexertion and his praises were babbled on his tongue, stuttering along with his hips and you clenched around him as he thrusted into you and you felt like everything was falling apart around you. You saw stars as you came one last time, your vision blacking out as you arched into Dazai’s chest.

He followed shortly after and as he came, nearly nothing came out but he still tried to fuck it into you anyway. Dazai let your legs fall against the bed as he pulled out, kissing everywhere he could reach in the process. “Did so well, my love. Was so perfect for me, I love you so much.”

The praises didn’t stop for a while, even as he carried you to the bath and let you soak first before he even dared to try to fit in beside you. Dazai changed the sheets as you caressed the marks on your skin, bubbles soaping up the bruises and you whined out for him a few minutes later. He came running when you did so, making sure you were alright and you clinged onto his arm, unwrapping his bandages with a graceful twist. “Get in with me…”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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vanesycho · 17 days

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Just stumbled upon your works and binged them - even the ones that I am not even a fan off. You are that good. Can I pls request a love triangle with Jeno and Jaehyun. Your choice if it's angst or fluff but smut is very much welcome lol. I just can't choose between them.

first of all, thank you very much for your nice comment and request🤍🤍 I really didn't think I wrote well but some of your guys comments really make me happy😭

Please do not read if you are uncomfortable.

Warning:Smut,p in v, masturbation, fingering, pussy eating, cheating, getting caught.

wc:2,6k

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Jeno turned up the volume on his headphones, trying to block out the moaning sounds, he took a deep breath in frustration, he didn't have to be exposed to these sounds, he didn't have to hear the moans of the girl he loves while someone else was fucking you right there. You didn’t stop moaning Jaehyun’s name though, and he cursed you once more for that.

The last thing he expected to do after the three of you became roommates was to develop feelings for you, but it happened, he couldn't control his feelings. After the sounds stopped, he breathed out with relief, he hated doing this, he hated living this, he hated that he couldn't make you scream like that.

A few minutes later, Jaehyun came into the living room and saw Jeno just sitting there. "Hey man, you okay? You said these wouldn't bother you but I still wanted to ask." Without even bothering to look up from his phone, he mumbled, "Yeah, that's fine." But when other footsteps entered the living room he quickly turned his attention to you, you had just come out of the shower with your wet hair, you smiled briefly at Jeno and sat down next to your boyfriend.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie?" You all agreed with the idea you came up with, he thought it might at least distract him a little.

Unless you count the kissing sounds that come from time to time while watching a movie...

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The next day everything went normally, Jaehyun and Jeno had agreed to go shopping, while the two of them were out you were left alone at home and thought about what to do. You had been sex with Jaehyun just yesterday, but your never-ending horniness was still there.

You could feel yourself getting wet as the things you two doing last night came to your mind, you went to your room, took off your clothes and lay on the bed. You imagined Jaehyun’s touch as you began to slowly caress yourself with your fingers. You spread your legs, your finger slowly tracing over your clit, “Jaehyun…” You weren't afraid to moan his name, your voice came out louder with the courage that came with being alone in the house.You didn't want to tease yourself too much and without waiting, you put two fingers inside.

A whimper escaped your mouth, you moved your hips towards your fingers eagerly, the wetness almost making you lose your mind. “Fuck..Jaehyun, please..” But the sound of the door left all the pleasure behind and replaced it with fear. You quickly opened your eyes and pulled your fingers away, swallowing hard when you saw Jeno standing in the doorway, his mouth slightly open in shock as he stared at you.

You quickly tried to cover yourself up. Jeno was still looking at you. “Jeno, I’m sorry- I..I didn't notice you coming home.” He swallowed, trying to erase the image from his memory but it was no use. You watched him as he took a step inside.He didn't give any answer, he entered the room while looking into your eyes with courage and leaned on his one knee on the bed, reaching for you from above. "Let me help you."

You looked up at him in surprise, thinking he either didn't know what he said or you misheard him. "What?" He grabbed your hand that was holding the blanket that you were covering your underneath, causing you to lift the blanket off of you. “You heard me, Jaehyun said he wouldn’t be coming back until tonight, so it’s just us, he won’t even know.” You tried not to let your mind play tricks on you, this was definitely wrong, but damn you really needed help. You weren’t sure if you could wait for Jaehyun until the evening, you cursed your own thoughts, holding your breath as one of Jeno’s hands reached for your pussy. "Jeno..."

"Shh...I promise you'll feel good, now spread your legs a little bit." You were like you were hypnotized, you didn't object as his voice reached your ears and you opened your legs as he said. He settled between them, and when his eyes went down to your wet pussy, he let out a shaky breath, he had never imagined it would be this good. Your heart was beating rapidly from fear, excitement, or adrenaline, you didn't know which.

You took a deep breath when his fingers touched your pussy, he continued, letting out a silent curse as he easily entered you through your wetness. "Fuck, you're so wet..I'd do anything for that to happen for me." He leaned down between your legs, licking your clit while his fingers were still moving inside you, then again, and again, until he finally sucked on it for a long time, making you let out a loud moan. "Jeno- please.." He groaned into your pussy when your name left his mouth, causing more waves of pleasure, he was ready and willing to do anything to make you moan and whine for him.

He eased his third finger inside you, his tongue continuing to lick and suck you hungrily.You put your hand in his hair and tried to to pull him closer as if it was possible, he allowed it, he let you direct him the way you wanted. Three of his fingers were filling your walls at a certain speed, you closed your eyes with the pleasure of his fingers and his mouth. "M-more...I want more, please I want to cum so bad.." He spread your legs wider, placing one of them on his shoulder so he could reach deeper. You could already feel yourself coming, and the fact that Jeno's fingers and mouth were enough to get you cum without even needing a dick made you even excited.

"I'm so close, don't stop, Jeno, please don't stop." You tried to talk after your rapid breaths, he moaned while sucking your pussy, hearing your voice so close, tasting your pussy and feeling all your wetness on his fingers gonna make him cum without being touched. Your hips couldn't stay still as you were about to cum, you moved your hips towards his face with eagerness while your hand was still holding his head. "Please please please." While those were the only words coming out of your mouth, you came on Jeno's fingers and in his mouth with a silent whimper.

He didn't stop his movements until you were completely relaxed, he didn't hesitate to take the juices flowing from your pussy into his mouth. When he pulled back after a while you looked at each other, he couldn't resist the urge to kiss you, and when he got closer, you turned your head away, and he stopped with that move. “This will remain a secret between us, okay? You better not tell Jaehyun.” He quickly pulled back and turned his head away from you to avoid looking at you, “Yeah I um- Sorry, I better go now."

"Baby? I'm home!" You quickly stood up as Jaehyun’s voice caught your ears, Jeno left your room without a word and headed towards his own room. You put on your clothes and walked over to Jaehyun. He gave you a big smile as you approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist, you hoped he didn't notice how fast your heart was beating as you hugged him. When he pulled back he gave her a kiss on the lips. "Jeno said he was going home but I didn't see him?"

"I- um.." You glanced around and then turned back to him. “He must be in his room. I didn’t even notice that he had come home actually.” He kissed your forehead and walked towards the kitchen. You helped him put away the things he bought.

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When you finished preparing the food, you put the plates on the table. "I'll go get Jeno." Even hearing his name from Jaehyun’s mouth was sending fear through your body, yet you didn’t say anything and shared a small glance with Jeno when he arrived a few minutes later. You quickly turned your head and sat back down.

While you were eating your meals in silence, the strangeness at the table could be understood even from 15 kilometers away. Your feet were shaking and unsteady with stress, and you accidentally brushed against Jeno’s leg, he started coughing as his food got stuck in his throat, Jaehyun handed him a glass of water and then he was able to got better. "I'm sorry Jeno, I hit your foot without realizing it." He just nodded and continued eating, you praying for this weirdness to end.

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When night fell, everyone went to their rooms.You laid on the bed and waited for Jaehyun to come, no you couldn’t think about what happened anymore, it was a mistake and it was over. And it wouldn’t even be brought up again.

You were broken from your thoughts when Jaehyun entered the room and you gave him a tired smile, he laid down next to you and grabbed your waist, pulling you to him.You smiled and let yourself fall into his arms, he started to place small kisses on your head, his hand moved to your hip and squeezed it lightly. He was soon on top of you, his soft lips moving down to your neck, you knew where this was going, it could help you forget after what happened, so you let him move between your legs and take off your shorts.

He didn't wait long and took off his clothes, positioned his dick towards your pussy. "Wait- aren't you going to get me ready?" He grinned, wet his lips, leaned towards your lips and whispered. "Oh, was that necessary? I thought you were already wet for me, or was I wrong? Not in the mood for today?" you screamed when he unexpectedly pushed his dick inside you, he laughed hysterically and spoke sadly, no no it was more like he was making fun off you "Aw..My baby can't get the same dick today that she got yesterday? Ah don't worry I'll prepare you well enough." While you couldn't understand his changing attitude, he continued to move his cock inside you. You just whimpered, squeezing the fabric of the bed with your hands as he filled your walls.

After a while, the pain gave way to pleasure, and this time you moaned his name with pleasure. “Jaehyun..” he lifted your one leg and started hitting your pussy harder, he lifted his head up in pleasure "Fuck Y/n" You felt yourself getting closer as a wave of pleasure took over your body. "I'm close, J-jaehyun..Fuck"

He stopped his movements and grinned at your eyes filled with pleasure. You whined when he pulled his cock out of you. "Wait... N-no, why?" He bit his lower lip, you looked at his prominent dimples and turned your head away from him at the sound of the door opening. Jeno came in and glanced at the two of you. You looked at the two of them “Jaehyun? Jeno? I-”

"My baby seems confused, do you want to explain it to her?" Jeno approached you, Jaehyun watched him approach you without looking away. “Y/n, Jaehyun, he.. He heard about what happened today, so he’s aware of what we did.” you looked at Jaehyun with fear, he chuckled at that and leaned closer to you and kissed you on the lips, leaned closer to your ear and whispered "It's funny my love, that you even think you can hide something from me. Offering your pussy to someone else, huh?"

He pulled back and Jeno came into view, you tried to back away when he got closer to you but Jaehyun stopped you.He moved behind you so you were leaning back against him and leaned towards your ear again. "Ah-ah don't even think about backing off, are you hesitant of your boyfriend?"

"W-why are you doing this?" You felt his breath on your neck as he grinned against your ear, Jeno was busy watching what was going on, you locked eyes with each other, Jaehyun looked at Jeno the same way. "I knew from the start that Jeno wanted you so I decided to provoke him, he took it longer than I expected but you.." he grabbed your chin and made you look at him, when your eyes landed on his lips he looked at your lips the same way "You've been waiting for this moment to offer your pussy to someone else, so I'm going to make sure at least you do it in front of me."

He got out of bed and put on his sweatpants, still naked upper body, he sat on the chair in your room and looked at both of you with his arms crossed. "Go on Jeno, let's see how you satisfy my girlfriend." Jeno turned his gaze to you, looking at your already naked body and just looking at that image made his dick harden. He looked into your eyes as he held your legs, waiting for confirmation from you, you looked at Jaehyun, he was watching you with a smirk on his face.You guys hadn’t even noticed that he came home early and continued having sex, and now you were feeling embarrassed in front of him? How sweet.

You parted your legs slightly and lowered your head in shame at the familiar scenario, Jeno made you look at him and leaned down to kiss the back of your ear. "Just leave yourself to me okay?" You took a deep breath and nodded as he whispered. You felt the familiar fingers on your pussy again, held your breath for a moment and leaned your head back. He started playing with your clit, his movements were slow and gentle, he leaned in and started tasting your pussy again, the one he had tasted before. You moved your hand to his hair again, trying to get him closer, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled back.

You looked at how swollen and big his cock was when it was exposed, veins are almost visible and it made you swallow. He looked at you as he positioned himself against your pussy, you nodded and soon felt him fill you up. You let out a groan, Jaehyun sat on the corner of the bed and laughed at how hungry you were for each other. He grabbed your neck and made you look at him, sucking on your lower lip before grinning at how your pussy took in Jeno’s cock. "How pitiful.." You continued to moan as Jeno moved inside you, Jaehyun leaned down to Jeno’s ear and spoke into it as he watched how you were moaning for someone else. "While you have the right to fuck her, you better do it right. If you don't satisfy my girlfriend enough, I'll have to show you how to do it."

Jeno lifted one leg and leaned over you, speeding up his movements, “Jeno..” you heard Jaehyun laugh as you moaned his name. The sounds of his cock pounding into your pussy filled the room. He didn't hesitate to watch as the sound of your bodies hitting each other, the sound of your moans, all filled the space between the four walls. "I'm close.." Those words were enough to make Jeno speed up, he leaned in and you wrapped your arms around him as he kissed your neck, “Fuck.” You heard him moan into your ear.

After a while you cummed as his cock fills your walls, Jeno pulled back and let his juices run between your legs. You both looked at Jaehyun as you were both out of breath, this whole thing didn’t feel real, what were you going to do now? Jaehyun came closer and leaned over you "From now on, you better not hide anything from me, do you understand, beautiful?" A smile appeared on his face as you quickly nodded your head.

“Good, because we’re not done with you yet, are we, Jeno?”

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