#identity v x m!reader

[k4shibe]

CREEP! — ANDREW KREISS

summary, creepy andrew is obsessed with u :P

content, andrew/gn reader, 18+!!, creep andrew, underwear stealing, masturbating to items, religious mentions, andrew using stuff in a sexual way, no sexual intercourse im too lazy

note, wrote this to cope with losing my idv account and also bc i love sub andrew and writing sub characters 😭

word count, 292

creep! andrew, who at first doesn’t care about anyone, believing that anything or anyone was too good for him, but when he see’s your beauty he knows he wants to be yours.

creep! andrew, who would only give you a couple of glances, or even just imagine you outside of the manor. his thoughts then turned into inappropriate imaginations about you under your clothing.

creep! andrew, who feels ashamed of his thoughts as a religious man. however he still believes that it wasnt really his fault as you were too provocative for him.

creep! andrew, who would sneak in to your room while you go to another one of your matches, immediately going in to your room to steal your underpants as his prize for putting so much effort into figuring out your match schedule.

creep! andrew, who’s dick would get rock hard whenever he saw you bend over to open a chest. trying to get himself together imagining the things he could do to you if the both of you weren’t in a match.

creep! andrew, who would steal the toothbrush you put in your mouth and use it as a sex toy, sticking it up his ass. high-pitched moans being heard from his room with no shame.

creep! andrew, who uses his role as rescuer to get closer and closer to you, even just your scent or a light-hearted “thank you!” with the perfect smile you give him, gives his big dick a embarrassingly noticeable boner

creep! andrew, who would have a collection of things of his you’ve touched, or your items under his bed. like for example, the underpants he got from you? its sticky now, or your toothbrush? the bristles are ruined and it looks abused

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[trashmouth-richie]

dulcis ut rosa { sweet as a rose 🥀}

part 1 1/2– dulex (the gnat🥀) pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader

summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperors— Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.

tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translation— if it’s wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasn’t so bad?

It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in. 

Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didn’t dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began. 

Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants. 

Some were given to soldiers as a sense of “release.” No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs.  The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a cluster— and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.

Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpable— so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracalla’s grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip. 

You should have known then. The difference between them.

From where you stood, Geta’s dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women. 

Bare toes standing on the marble floor— unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cart— you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises. 

Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sun’s rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal. 

A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat,  he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, “she’ll do.” 

You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves. 

The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?

You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not. 

You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily. 

“Sit.” 

The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before. 

He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch. 

His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip. 

His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. “Out!” “Get out!” Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door. 

Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta. 

Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.

He didn’t soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags. 

“Ah, and what do we have here? My brother’s whore in tears outside his chamber door. Can’t say I'm the least bit surprised.” He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him. 

“Tasteful thing, aren't you?” he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency. 

He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle. 

“Pathetic.” he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held.  “Every single one of you.” His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall. 

“Brought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..” he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, “I don’t miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.” 

“Emperor, please.” 

“Do not speak!” he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing,  “a whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill it— understood?” 

You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, “if you can not please my brother, you will please me… otherwise what good are you here?” 

He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, you’d never imagined one to be so large.  

Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, “open for your Emperor,” he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today. 

You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones. 

He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his length— spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack. 

He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. “The virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good… impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.” 

His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldn’t care either way. 

“Stupid sniffling Caracalla,” he choked out between thrusts, “incompetent bastard wouldn’t know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,” he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, “lucky for you, I do.” 

He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth. 

“You might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you… my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.” 

And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth. 

In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracalla’s beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours. 

You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes. 

How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasn’t large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow. 

During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere. 

It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace. 

Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release. 

He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy. 

You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust. 

Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips. 

You felt sick, defiled and disgusting. 

You’d rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled. 

Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whore’s life isn’t what you had bargained for, death would be swifter— easier than this. 

The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water. 

Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldn’t care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition. 

Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly. 

For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you weren’t sure. You weren’t where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit. 

You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.

“The lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.” his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance. 

“The moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.”

Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, “I wanted… I needed to be clean.” 

His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracalla’s mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter. 

Geta’s face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.

“Come.” he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands. 

—

Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta. 

This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didn’t know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.

Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow. 

He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber. 

It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night. 

His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist. 

Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you. 

“Let me make myself clear,” he stated, “I do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.” 

Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, “You came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperor’s servant or a soldier’s fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must be…but quite honestly,” he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, “I am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their master’s needs.”

Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. “I told you the night we met that if you aren’t pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?” 

Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true. 

“I will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brother’s secrets, using your mouth to fill my needs— it is all very pleasing…”

For the first time you look into Geta’s eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth. 

“… however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover would—I use women to my needs and that’s it.” 

He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, “but you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I can’t decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something else…” His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, “Get on the bed.” 

“Emperor?” 

His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, “do not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.” His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched. 

You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely. 

“The difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and I’m damn good at it.” 

He’s on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you. 

His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. It’s swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you. 

“If your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.” 

You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere… something Geta doesn’t miss. 

“My brother’s whore is quick to becoming wet.” he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth,  “mmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when she’s drier than a well.” 

His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips. 

Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.

“Look how desperate you are, pathetic thing… so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.” He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away. 

That pitiful excuse for a human couldn’t satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.” You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage. 

“You're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.” 

The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, “begging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if I’m your God.”

With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devil’s eyes, a chokehold to your own.

“Ora pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,” he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own. 

He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them. 

Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didn’t care to know the name of. 

His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin. 

“Puella pulchra, pretty girl,” Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. “Mea es, mea es, you’re mine;  no one else’s.” 

His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be. 

With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you. 

Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. “How dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.” 

Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets. 

You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair. 

“Dulcis ut rosa,” he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more. 

Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.  

He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb “you’ve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, I’m nothing but a fool.” 

When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought. 

Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if he’d like another glass. “No,” he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. “I’m tired, leave me now.” 

Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders. 

Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten. 

It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew you’d never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.

Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didn’t know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill. 

Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brother— but it became more to him, you became more. But why? 

The God’s didn’t have the answers tonight, just like they hadn’t the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiter’s mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed. 

The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldn’t risk. He didn’t know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and gold— still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless. 

Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadn’t changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a rose…his empress.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

latin translation:

virgines— virgins

dulcis ut rosa— sweet as a rose

balneum— bathing room

te necessito— i need you

ora pro me deus meus— pray for me my God

puella pulchra— pretty girl

mea es— you’re mine

tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch

[violet-eng]

Drunk!Loid Forger x wife!fem!reader | NSFW 🔞

Summary: Loid comes home very late drunk after going out drinking with Franky. He fucks you drunk.

Warnings: Porn with no plot lol. Smut +18. Oral fem! Masturbation. Inappropriate use of belt. Spanking. P i v. Unprotected sex, mention of pregnancy. MDNI

Wc: idk like 3k?

━─━─────────༺༻────────━─━

For Agent Twilight, there was something pleasurable about playing Loid Forger, the carelessness that the peaceful family man could indulge in from time to time without suffering any major consequences...like the night Franky had invited him out for a drink.

Twilight was a man of strong drinks, the kind that go to your head and detach you from reality by ripping your thoughts and every last drop of consciousness from your brain... he was addicted to those drinks because he could stand them, because they were no challenge for the best spy in Westalis.

However... along with the wonderful, sweet personality that the Loid Forger brings with him, certain misplaced platitudes fall upon Twilight. Twilight was a cold man of steady mettle and pure stoicism, a determination that could not be eclipsed by mundane feelings like... falling in love....

The fusion of his alter ego as Loid Forger with that of his original identity as Twilight had led him to the very night he stumbled back to your house, his hand covering his face in search of relief from the terrible headache.

He doesn't turn on the kitchen light because he knows you're sleeping in their shared room, and he doesn't make any noise when he fills a glass of water because he's afraid of disturbing your sleep.

You, his beautiful and efficient wife, what more could he ask for but a devoted woman like you. Fuck... if only his mission would never end... he wouldn't have to leave you.

"Loid..." you whisper from the living room, peering over the wall. He woke you up... you can't see him in this state, he can't talk in this state. If he confesses anything now, if he gets carried away with his feelings for you, anything would jeopardize the mission...

Come on, Twilight, think fast. He shakes his head as he returns to his role as Loid Forger.

"Y/n, my dear. I'm sorry I woke you," the voice is calm, even though your name falls from his lips in a frenzy of emotions.

"You came back late," you add, emerging from your hiding place and walking towards him, who stops breathing for a moment.

The dim light illuminates your figure, you are wearing only one of his shirts, which covers the skin above your thighs, and a pair of white wool stockings. Your hair is down, and it seems to Twilight that you look perfect in this moment, with these clothes and this warm light.

Damn, she looks so...

"I'm... I'm sorry, I went out for a drink with Franky. I didn't think I'd be back so late," he stammers for a moment. What are you doing to him? What effect do you have on him that he can't control his emotions?

"I see," you smile, "your cheeks are pink, you look lovely"

"No... no, of course not," he turns his face away, lips parted and cheeks burning.

What are you doing, Twilight, regain your composure.

"I missed you," you confess, embracing him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting them fall to his stomach, filling his breath with your scent, your lemon and honey scent reaching into the deepest recesses of his mind, taking over his consciousness and his last shred of self-control.

I am Twilight... and I am fucked... I want to fuck her tonight like I've wanted to fuck her for months.

You are completely unaware of the man on top of you. He has carried you into the bedroom in one swift, nimble movement, stealthily and carefully. He has laid you down on the mattress and is now attacking your neck with his lips.

Whiskey breath surrounds your mind, your consciousness is clouded and your heart is disturbed by the frenzy of your husband's kisses, causing sensual gasps on your skin. Loid's hands run through your hair, tangling behind your neck to give him more access to your neck and chin, devouring your surface with hunger and desire.

You are completely immobilized by his muscular body, and by the surprise that his behavior has caused you, you feel your heart in your throat, the beats echoing in your ears, only eclipsed by his moaning when he touches the valley of your breasts through your shirt.

"Loid~" you bite your lip and try to push him away with both hands, but it's no use, Loid is so much stronger than you. Has he always been like this?

"You have no idea how you turn me on," he whispers, almost on the verge of madness, his throat is choked and he holds back his tongue that wants to run all over your body.

He sits on top of you, you find relief in being able to breathe normally for a moment as you see him unbutton his shirt, opening it with a jerk to expose his chiseled abdomen. It's not the first time you've looked at him without his clothes on, but you always marvel at the way his muscles stand out against his skin, the way a few scars frame his pecs and abdomen.

You reach out and touch his skin, the line between his chiseled abs, in a reflexive action. Having him so close, like this, awakens a vulgar side in you that only he knows.

"Patience," he whispers, the tone deep and punctuated with a lustful gasp.

He throws the cloth away from the bed and leaves his hands on the belt of his pants. His movements are desperate yet unmistakable, he is quite skilled for being so drunk.

His pants are on the floor next to his shirt and boxers, he holds the belt between his hands and strokes the leather with his fingers, a dark idea floating in his mind.

"Loid..." you get his attention, only to meet a dark stare, bathed in malice.

"I have plans for you, y/n" his smile is evil, but it turns you on, fuck, you've never seen this side of your husband before.

Loid made love to you, when you slept together he was the soft and gentle type who cared more about your satisfaction than his own. He didn't play with you, he didn't tempt you and he didn't make you beg. His gaze was always loving, full of sincere and genuine affection. His kisses were chaste, almost as if you would break if he came any closer, and his thrusts were gentle, so that he could feel you clearly and not hurt you.

And he didn't cum inside you because he knew you weren't ready to be pregnant, because it was enough to take care of Anya, another child would be too much work for both of you... so when you were done, he bathed you and fell asleep next to you, framing your form with a protective hug and sweet, almost poetic words in your ear until you were both asleep. Loid was a sweet and loving husband...

That was Loid, and it was okay... for you... because for Twilight, it was a nightmare.

He hated going slow, he hated not being able to bite your skin or leave marks between your legs, and worst of all, he hated you moaning a name that wasn't even his. That's why tonight, he would completely take over Forger's identity, kill Loid, and do to your body what Twilight had wanted to do since he first saw you.

"Shit," he grunts as he takes his member in his hand and fucks him with his fist, throwing his head back. Just the thought of fucking you that night had turned him on.

You look at him with great surprise, you've never seen Loid masturbate before and you didn't think the first time would be while he was on top of you. The way his ragged breathing lifts his chest, the way his muscles flex as he jerks his arm, and especially the way he moans your name as the red head of his cock drips pre-cum.

Even though you are completely unaware of this behavior, you can't take your eyes off of him. You slip a hand under your clothes, rifling through your panties in search of your clit, throbbing at the image of Loid above you. Your wrist is gripped by Loid's hand, which leans over you with a tight grip and whispers into your ear.

"Not yet. I haven't given you permission," the voice is unrecognizable, Loid has never used such a low tone.

He undoes the buttons of your shirt, pulling the fabric apart as he dips his face between your bare breasts, sliding the fabric under your shoulders as you squirm from the soft bites he leaves around your nipples.

He circles his tongue around the buttons of your breasts as he runs his hands all over you, from your sides to your arms, lifting them above your head. Loid touches you as if he has never touched a woman before.

He takes the belt and holds your wrists above your head, watching you from his position, like a hunter watching his prey. You let yourself be taken in by his bizarre game, maybe it's a fantasy he's wanted to fulfill for a long time and now he has the confidence to do it, you think.

And the reality is that Twilight fucks like this because he knows he's going to fuck you so good that you'll want to push it away with all your might.

He leaves a trail of kisses all over your face, down your chin, your neck, between your breasts and your stomach, around your waist and down to your hips, where he holds the elastic of your panties, fucking soaked with your juices.

He glances at you before tearing the thin fabric, and for a moment you can see the face of an unknown man, his face completely changed by the lust he is releasing at that moment. Leaning back on his elbows, he spreads your legs and rests them on his shoulders, licking his lips as he watches your dripping pussy.

With his fingers he gently caresses your valley and the edge of your hole, his finger grazes your clitoris, eliciting a moan from you.

He looks at you from between your legs, analyzes your face and the surroundings, and you swear his mind is going a mile a minute right now."What are you thinking about?" you ask embarrassed.Loid turns his gaze back to you, the blue of his eyes seeming darker than before.

"I was debating whether to gag you or not, I don't want to wake the kid."

"I won't make any noise... I... I promise," you say hesitantly, because you don't believe your own words.

"I want to hear you hold back," he smiles, the corner of his lip turning to the side.

He dips his face between your legs, his nose brushing your skin, his fingers parting your folds, his tongue moving from the base to the top. You shiver at the passage of his tongue as it begins to wiggle around your clit. It is delicate, gentle, as it always has been... but he seems to enjoy it more than before.

He gasps as he moves his head, his fingers spreading your folds further apart and you feel the warmth of his breath on your entrance. He doesn't tire, he doesn't stop, in fact, with each movement he seems more energetic than before.

He continues to caress your clit with his tongue, sucking on the small nub that makes you arch your back and hold back the moans that want to escape your mouth. You feel Loid's tongue at your entrance and his nose brushing your clit, then a finger slips gently inside you, followed by another.

His fingers are long, calloused, and surprisingly dexterous. He finds your spot almost immediately and you feel like you're seeing stars. His tongue doesn't leave your clit, your button is swollen and he sucks on it passionately while his fingers abuse your sensitive spot inside you.

Your walls close over his fingers, he thrusts in and out, fucking you wonderfully with his digits, while your ecstasy grows in your belly from his skillful tongue.

He lets out a hot gasp against your skin, and the sound of his fingers soaked in your juices floods the room, it seems harder and harder to contain your moans. You bite your lip hard as he makes a soft stroke over your button, his fingers digging deep inside you.

He makes a curious movement, lifting his fingers and seeming to increase his speed, he uses his other hand to mistreat your clit, with his elbows he spreads your legs. You can't close them, you want to, you want him to stop, you feel the burning in your stomach and in your legs. He lowers his face again to the level of your sex, just when it seems he is finished, he continues, his tongue abusing your hole and your clit in perfect synchrony, a hand runs down your belly and catches your breast.

"Loid~" you let out his name in an anxious moan "Ah~ Loid..."

That name, he thinks, his mouth and mind focused on your sex... I am that now, I am Loid Forger, this is my wife, and I will see to it that she can't get out of bed for days.

"Loid," you add, taking his hair between your fingers, your bound wrists making movement difficult.

"Mmh?" he whispers still between your legs, the vibrations of his voice sending electric waves up your spine.

"Since when... you're so good... so good at this," your words are cut off by a dirty moan that slips from between your lips. It hurts, it hurts not to be able to make a sound, it hurts not to be able to scream out how good your husband is eating you right now.

"What do you mean?" he asks, he knows exactly what you mean, but he likes to play with your mind, right now.

His movements are synchronized again and your mind is confused as you feel your orgasm erupt. Loid has never made you come with his tongue alone. And he hasn't lasted this long. It's different, he behaves differently.

You're breathing hard, your mind a whirlwind, and even more so as you watch Loid savor the nectar that has stained his fingers. His tongue dances erotically between his digits, and his gaze is all on you.

"I missed your taste. Much better than whiskey," he says.

You pick up your legs, thinking he is done, and when you go to ask him to untie your hands, you feel him flip your hips. The movement is quick, almost imperceptible, your face is glued to the sheet, and when you go to protest the sudden change of position, you feel him sink deep inside you.

"Loid!" the cry you let out is unmistakable. It hurt, but it also felt so good. He pushes your walls apart with his cock, molding your insides for him. He leaves a resounding slap on your butcheek and you hear him laughing behind you.

"Just what I wanted to hear," he says.

He pulls back, letting the head tease your entrance, your sodden pussy contracting to nothing, and he slips back in, whole, as far as your cervix will allow. You feel the crash of his hips against your ass and his balls slapping against your skin. His hands are anchored to your hips, leaving occasional slaps on your now pink skin. He's ramming you like an animal, the pace is fast and the force is enormous.

You tremble, your face sunk into the mattress, your forehead rubbing against the sheet from your husband's movements, your elbows in front of your head and your hands raised as if in prayer.

"Loid~ please...more...slower," you moan, almost sobbing.

Each thrust is accompanied by moans from both of you, his moans dark in comparison to yours, and in the background the grinding of the bed and the banging of the headboard against the wall. He moves like he's never moved before, fucks you like he's never fucked you before.

His fingers slide under your belly, touching your clit, you let out another scream at the overstimulation, and begin to move your hips in time to his fingers. Your breasts are massaged by his other hand, fully attended.

"Loid, Loid I..." you don't know what to say, the sentences you blurt out are meaningless, pleasure clouds your mind and all you hear is Loid's low growl behind you.

"You have no idea," he whispers in your ear and leans over you. You feel his chest against your back, your pussy shuddering at the change in position and the sudden cessation of his assault. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to fuck you like this."

He spreads your lips with his fingers and your tongue tastes your own taste and a hint of the whiskey he'd had a few hours ago.

"m gonna fuck you until that little pussy of yours breaks, did you hear me?" he demanded grabbing a fistful of your hair and lifting your head.

"Yes... yes I heard you" you blurted out between moans. You couldn't say no, you didn't want to.

He continues his onslaught, more violent than the previous ones, expanding your walls, opening you wide for him, throwing your head back in an avid attempt to enjoy every nook and cranny of your loins. It feels as if it's going to pierce you at any moment, hammering against your spot abruptly, relentlessly.

You turn your head to look at him in the mirror, head back, eyes closed and lips parted, letting out low moans. His arms, muscles tense as his hands hold your hips, holding you in place. His hips move deftly, forcefully, he knows how to align himself perfectly before entering you again.

And you, your back is arched perfectly, your ass vibrates with each thrust and your breasts jiggle in frenzy from the onslaught of his cock. Your cheeks are pink, your lips swollen, your forehead sweaty.

"So good" you hear Loid, who leaves his hand on the back of your neck, returning to your starting position.

You reach your second orgasm without even recovering from the first, and Loid cums inside you soon after.

"I like that you have stamina," he says, turning your body around without coming out of you, his movements continuing, resuming the frantic rhythm of a few seconds ago.

You don't have stamina, fuck no, of course not. But there's not much you can do when your hands are tied and held down by a burly man taller than you. You tell him you can't take it anymore, you feel like you're going to pass out, but fuck, how good it feels when he caresses your waist while he fucks you in that position.

He hides his face in your neck, strokes your hair, frames your cheek with his hand. Untie your hands without looking, and you finally feel free enough to anchor yourself to his back, marking his skin with your nails and playing with his hair.

Loid's favorite position is missionary, because he can smell you as he penetrates you, because he has access to you in every possible way, because he intertwines his hands with yours above your head and whispers that he loves you, over and over and over again.

"Say my name," he whispers, his voice drowned out by your shoulder, "say my name, please.

"Loid," you whisper again and again as you wrap your legs around his waist and your hands find comfort in his.

He kisses you, kisses you as if he had never kissed you before, as if with one kiss he could suck your soul and keep you in his chest forever. With this kiss, he tears away all your doubts and strengthens the promise of a life together with you.

He will not leave you, he tells you fervently, he swears on his life that he will never leave you, that he will put a child in you and that he will not leave this family.

"I hope you will accept me as I am," he whispers.

"Oh, Loid," you smile as you cling to him in an embrace, your legs feeling your third orgasm approaching,

"Loid~ I love you...".

There are no words to describe this night, it has drained you of all your energy, you feel almost sick, weak and completely out of control.Loid hugs you to his chest and covers you with the sheets, leaving a kiss on your forehead and whispers how well you took it.

"Loid..." you whisper.

"Yes?"

"You don't have to ask me to accept you...I love you in every possible way. If this is your way of telling me that I need to get to know you better, I am ready to do so. If I discover another phase of you, as I did today, I will be more than happy to do so," you look at him smiling, "I have noticed that you have many faces that I don't know, Loid Forger.

Loid Forger, he thinks, the man of a thousand faces... doesn't sound bad.

He knows he'll have to tell you about his mission someday, but now is not the time, not after he's shed his facade and shown you an authentic side of himself. Even though he knows you'll understand, he doesn't want to risk everything, at least not yet... later, when you know Twilight better, he can tell you everything... and stay with you. ....

[munson-blurbs]

Escaped Convict!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: a peaceful morning of reading and coffee is interrupted when you stumble upon convicted murderer and prison escapee Eddie Munson, and your kindness towards him does not go unrewarded.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral (f! receiving), fingering, corruption kink, 'sir' kink, spitting, biting, mention of blood, mention of assault/murder

WC: 2.6k

A/N: in this fic, "innocent" refers to some sexual inexperience. Eddie and Reader are both in their mid-20s and neither are portrayed as childlike.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, you don’t think anything of the slight rustling noise coming from the trees. It’s been a windy morning, the leaves swaying in the breeze since you’d first sat down at your favorite picnic bench, book in one hand and travel mug full of coffee in the other.

Now, you’re several chapters in, coffee long gone, the air warming as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. It’s almost time for you to head back home and get some lunch, and you begrudgingly tuck a bookmark into your tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

You hear the noise again; this time, it’s not accompanied with a gust of wind, and it draws your attention to an overgrown shrub in the near distance. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peer over it, but nothing could have prepared you for what you find.

One hand shoots out from behind the bush, yanking your wrist and pulling you down. Your jean-clad knees scrape against the cold ground, grass stains seeping into the fabric. A terrified squeal remains trapped in your throat, but you’ve gone completely silent in horror. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel a palm against your mouth.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls, low and slow against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes staring straight ahead, unwilling to make contact with your captor. “You work with the cops? Hmm?” When you shake your head, his grip loosens slightly. Maybe it’s also because he can feel you trembling within his grasp, not even contemplating fighting back. “If I let you go, you promise you won’t tell a soul?”

You nod against his hand, taking a gasping breath when he hesitantly breaks contact, still unsure about trusting you. You try to scramble to your feet, but your body betrays you; every bone is gelatinous. Falling back with a pathetic whine, the adrenaline fades and the emotions it had been staving off comes flooding in. Tears fall from your eyes, hot as they slide down your cheeks in heaving sobs. The man swears under his breath, evidently distressed that you’ll give away his hiding spot with your crying.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologize weakly, wiping at your face haphazardly and trying once again to stand. You’re successful this time, but before you can run away, you get a glimpse of him. 

He’s absolutely filthy; a mixture of blood and dirt covers his hands and bare feet. A formerly starch-white undershirt is caked in the same grime, bright orange jumpsuit tied around his waist. His hair is matted in several places, though you can see a semblance of curls amongst the knots. And the expression on his face is not one of anger or violence, but of fear. The same fear that wraps around you like a boa constrictor, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left to feel.

It’s his eyes, the deep brown windows to his soul, that give away his identity. And though his current get-up is a stark contrast from the ill-fitted suit he’d worn to his televised court appearances, you know who he is.

Eddie Munson: murderer, prisoner, and now, escapee.

Your own eyes widen, and you take a staggering step back. You’d seen on the news that he’d broken out of Indiana State prison three days ago, but you’d never imagined that you would be the one to find him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snarls, snapping you from your stupor. “Just go!” He scoffs disbelievingly, not understanding why you haven’t taken off bolting back through the forest.

To be honest, you’re also unsure why you remain in place. You’d followed Eddie’s case since the moment it had first broken: a man leaving a bar in the strange hours that are past the night but not quite morning, plans of trekking home derailed by the sound of a woman’s frantic scream. Without thinking, Eddie ran towards it, fingers digging into a man’s throat to pull him off of her. He could have stopped there, the jury argued; he should have stopped there, but he didn’t. His fist connected with the offender’s cheek, delivering one punch after the other until his own fists were battered and bloodied. 

Eddie might have been hailed a hero if the perpetrator hadn’t been Jason Carver: All-American basketball player, a senator’s son, and most importantly, a man whose family had access to the best lawyers money could buy. The court overlooked Eddie’s act of courage in favor of the murder he’d committed and sentenced him to twenty years behind bars.

Was he innocent? Technically, no. But he also wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the media portrayed him to be.

You extend your hand, wincing at the way it shakes in front of you. “Let me help you, Eddie.” He flinches at his name, pulling back from you. “I…I can hide you, if you want.”

“Wh…what?” There’s no way he heard you correctly. You, the young woman in the soft sweater and frightened but kind eyes, just willingly offered to harbor a fugitive? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says gently, pinning his hopes on you recognizing his authenticity, “you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I know.” You keep your hand out, biting your lower lip with so much force that you could draw blood. “I want to.”

With a plethora of reservations, he accepts your proposal as you discreetly lead him to your car. You naively expect him to sit next to you, but he opts to lay down in the backseat where nosy drivers are less likely to spot him. He pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to shrink himself even further. 

“If we get caught,” he whispers as you turn the key in the ignition, “tell them I made you do this, okay? Promise me.”

“Y-Yes. I promise.”

At your apartment, you point Eddie in the direction of the shower while you start on lunch. There isn’t much to choose from, but you crack open a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and make three grilled cheese sandwiches: two for him, one for you. You pour the soup into two bowls just as you hear the water turn off.

“Um, Sweetheart?” The nickname sets off a flurry of butterflies in your abdomen. “Do you have anything for me to wear?” He steps out of the bathroom, just a towel slung low on his waist. Droplets fall from his hair down his chest, blurring the lines of his tattoos. A dusting of brown hair trails from his navel and disappears below the towel. “I could put my own stuff back on, I guess, if you don’t.”

You will yourself to look away from the living, breathing artwork standing before you. “Y-Yeah, give me a sec.” Your arm grazes his torso as you walk past him towards your room, goosebumps appearing on your skin, and not just from the cooling water. Digging through your drawers, you manage to find a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that your ex-boyfriend had left behind, never bothering to return to collect it. “Here,” you say; he doesn’t question why you have men’s clothes at the ready, just takes them gratefully and pads back into the bathroom to change.

You’re left breathless again when he walks out again, fully clothed. His biceps strain against the cotton material, filling it out better than your ex ever could. And his lack of underwear is evident, the outline just visible through his sweats. 

He’s gorgeous.

Eddie devours the food like it’s a delicacy, rather than canned soup and some Kraft slices on Wonder Bread. Perhaps, after years in prison and an undisclosed amount of days on the run, it is. He brushes the crumbs from his hands into his empty bowl and leans back with a small stretch. “Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile, leaning over to take your own used utensils. “I’ll wash these. ‘S the least I can do.”

You nod, not wanting to protest and risk making him feel like he’s a burden. “How long can you stay?” you ask softly, nervously picking at your fingernails. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I know you probably shouldn’t stick around in one place for long…” You feel silly saying it, like you have any idea of what the protocol is for running away from prison.

“Not long,” Eddie admits, wiping the sponge over a spoon before rinsing it and placing it in the dishrack. “Probably should head back out as soon as it gets dark again. But, really, I can’t thank you enough. The warm shower, the food, the clean clothes…just wish I could repay you somehow.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick across your body, soaking in the sight of you. The ache between your legs pulses now, desperate for him to fill the space. You’ve only ever slept with people you’ve been in relationships with; certainly never with escaped convicts who you’d found hiding in the woods.

“What…what did you have in mind?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper as you stand up and walk towards him. 

“Don’t…don’t do this,” he hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please. It’s been fuckin’ forever, I can’t…” He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “I haven’t touched someone like I want to touch you in so fucking long, sweet girl.”

“You want to touch me?” You’re shocked at his candor, the way he readily confesses his needs. “W-Where?”

Eddie exhales, gliding his forefinger down your cheek. “Everywhere. I can’t get enough of you. Pretty little bookworm just begging to be corrupted, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, letting your palm fall to his bicep.

“Need to hear you say it,” Eddie urges, for your sake and his. His breath tickles below your ear. “Say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Corrupt me, Eddie.”

His hands are on you in an instant, pinning you against the countertop. Your lips find each other with the force of magnets, a clashing of teeth and tongues more fervent than you’ve ever experienced. He hoists you on top of it, tugging on your jeans and panties until they’re on the ground.

“‘M gonna taste you. See if you’re as sweet as you look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s got a perfect view of your glistening folds. Broad arms wrap around your thighs to pull you close and he dives in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue broaches your hole. Your toes instinctively curl, back arching as he feeds off of your pleasure and gradually quickens his pace. One thick finger slides inside you, making you moan. “Goddamn, even your sounds are sweet.” He continues licking and sucking, adding another finger as you get wetter. “‘M sorry, I wanna keep eating you out, but I gotta…” His lips latch onto one nipple, giving it the tiniest bite that draws a whimper from you.

You’re surprised to find that you’re enjoying the pinch of pain, lacing your fingers through his curls and holding his face to your chest. You allow your senses to be overwhelmed, drowning them in the sensation of his mouth on your upper body and his fingers within you.

You rock yourself into him, desperately chasing the release that he’s inching you towards. It allows him even deeper, impossibly so, and you tighten around him.

Eddie lets go of your breast, focusing all of his attention on your pussy. His fingers plunge in and out as he looks deep into your eyes, not daring to break any contact. “Thassit, sweet girl,” he says in a cross between a hiss and a coo, “come f’me.”

And you do, relinquishing whatever semblance of control you’d tried to hold on to. You soak his fingers with a cry of his name. There’s no mistaking the proud grin that sweeps over his face, knowing that he was the one bringing you this pleasure. “You’re ready for my cock now, aren’t you?” He laughs when you nod, helping you off of the countertop. He tugs his pants down, exposing his hard length. He’s big, already leaking pre-cum, and you’re salivating at the anticipation of him stretching you delectably. “Bend over for me, honey. You’re gonna take it from behind today.” 

“Yes, sir.” You turn around, bracing your forearms on the Formica while he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir.” 

He groans, throwing his head back as he runs his tip along your folds. “Such a good girl, knowing her place. Gonna take whatever I give you, s’fucking good for me.” He pushes inside you, little by little until he bottoms out. “So warm, so wet, holy shit.” Calloused palms grip your hips as he thrusts into you. “Take it, sweet girl. Mmm, jus’ like that.” Each snap of his hips is punctuated with a wanton groan. “I’ve barely fucked you and you’re already cock drunk. No one ever fucked you this good, huh?”

“N-No, never. Only you, Eddie.”

You feel your chin being pulled so your head faces sideways, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. “Open wide, pretty little thing.” You do as he orders, his saliva coating your tongue as he spits into your mouth. “Mine,” he declares possessively, eyes widening as you swallow what he’s given you without even being asked. 

He pushes down on your back, your breasts pressed against the counter while he thrusts faster and faster, no longer concerned about holding back. “‘M gonna come on your ass.” He squeezes there, turning himself on further just having your supple skin in his grasp.

And because you know how wild it drives him, you consent with a, “yes, sir.”

Eddie pulls out just in time, his hot spend spilling out of him and onto your flesh. You wish you could see the way he’s adorned you, but you’ll have to settle for the feeling of him dripping down your curves. He stands behind you, panting heavily, holding his softening cock in one hand. 

“God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl,” he mutters, reaching over you to grab a paper towel. It’s scratchy as he cleans you up, then takes another and wipes the residual cum from his tip. “You really are perfect.”

You face him and gingerly kiss his lips, probably too intimate for the utter filth you’d just engaged in. Still, he returns it, hands roaming your body with intent but no real destination. 

“Mind if we get some rest?” he asks, poorly stifling a yawn. “You, uh, kinda wore me out just now.”

You lead him to your bedroom, both of you climbing under the covers wordlessly, heads barely hitting the pillow before you’re each sound asleep.

When you wake up hours later, you’re alone in the dark. At first, you wonder if it’s all been a dream, but when you click on your bedside lamp, there’s a handwritten note hastily scrawled on some scrap paper:

My sweet girl,

I had to go and didn’t want to wake you. I knew that if I did, you’d convince me to stay longer, and I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have.

I hope that fate will allow us to meet again, maybe if I’m ever truly a free man. ’ll be thinking of you until then.

Yours, 

Eddie

P.S. burn this note and flush the ashes after reading

You do as he asked, heart sinking as the flames swallow his words. Maybe he’s written the same ones to dozens of different lovers, or maybe you’re the only recipient. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that fills your memory is the way he felt inside you earlier today. 

You will it to live there forever.

--

[hellsbedroom]

call out my name

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: as an assassin for hire, you often worked alongside the Winter Soldier. immediately after the events of CA:TWS, that soldier shows up at your doorstep needing help. and he thanks you in a very particular way

warnings: 18+, nsfw, brief mentions of violence, mild alcohol consumption, heavy petting, hair pulling (m receiving), p in v, porn with actually a lot of plot, angsty ending because i couldn't help myself, google-translated romanian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The frantic knocking at your front door shouldn’t be happening. Even though Hydra’s secrets had been blown open a couple days ago, your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Mercenaries’ names never are. So how could anyone find you?

You slow your breathing to counter the adrenaline as the knocking rattles the hinges again. Clutching your gun tighter, you throw the door open and aim into the night.

The barrel lands against a man’s chest and takes you both by surprise. You pull the gun away when a familiar pair of blue eyes blinks back at you from underneath a ballcap. His face isn’t one you ever expected to see again, especially after the carnage in DC.

“Soldier?” You’d never known him by any real name.

“Can I come in?”

“Am I gonna get killed for it?”

He glances behind him and tugs his backpack tighter. “Not if I’ve done my job.”

That’s enough of an answer. You wave him in with the gun still cocked in case it’s a trap. But after you lock the door, you turn to find him staring at you and all at once the gun is no longer necessary.

His eyes are different. You’d seen them empty, you’d seen them focused, you’d seen them angry, you’d even seen them lust-blown as he thrusted into you in some alleyway after a mission. But you’d never seen them scared.

And he is terrified.

“I need your help. I have to get away.” Vigilance strings his shoulders taut and you wonder how many sleepless nights had led up to this.

“Okay, my cover’s not blown and I’ve still got my contacts. Is the west coast far enough? Canada?”

“No. Farther.”

“London’s pretty big.”

He grips your forearms in a flash, gruffly pleading an inch from your face. “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

The intensity freezes you for a few moments before you nod. Wordlessly you cross the room and rummage through papers strewn across your desk. Identities, informants, any connections you still have. Anybody they can’t get to.

“Does Romania work?” You proudly hold up some papers with illegible scrawls. “I can get you out at dawn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

His sigh of relief leaves you comfortable enough to grab a couple beers from the fridge. Might as well drink when it’s clear that he’ll stay the night. But when you try to hand him one, he’s staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice. You aren’t the best at comforting people, especially not Hydra’s former war dog, but you clasp a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He snaps back into the moment, nodding in thanks as he takes the beer and opens it with a simple flick of a metal finger. He rubs the other hand down his face, dragging away the last of whatever thoughts had distracted him.

“Yeah.” He still stands resolute in the center of the room, even as you sling yourself into a chair. “Sorry for grabbing you. I just—”

“It’s alright, Soldier. I’ve been roughhoused before.”

“It’s actually Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name is Bucky. I didn’t know that for a long time. Hydra’s doing.” He sinks onto your couch, still weighed down by the revelation.

You immediately sit up straighter, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it. The whole story comes out with just a bit of prodding. World War Two, his capture, his fall, Hydra’s brainwashing, all of it. You sit in stunned silence through it, nodding in support every now and then. He finishes after the second round of beers and checks the magazine of his gun from force of habit. You do the same, then venture with a question itching to be answered.

“Do you remember anything you did?”

“Some of it. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t...I didn’t want to stop it.” A guilty silence follows and you hear the distinctive whirring of his metal arm as he clenches his fist.

You laugh to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s better than me. I chose to do this shit and got paid for it.”

Bucky nods solemnly, staring down his empty bottle. Then he flicks his gaze back up to you. “I also remember you.”

“On a mission? Marrakesh was pretty memorable.”

“Yeah. But I remember us doing some other stuff, too.” A smile ghosts his lips for the first time that night.

Memories of him sucking angry marks into your neck as you writhe on his cock come flooding back, making you cross your legs. You clear your throat and try to seem nonchalant.

“I hope that’s not something the brainwashing made you do,” you joke.

Bucky’s eyes are sharp as knives as they cut across the room. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t want to stop that either.”

“Oh. Good.”

The next silence thunders with anticipation but you don’t push your luck. Instead you focus on clearing away stray dishes and papers, flitting back and forth and trying to remember how to play hostess. You cross in front of Bucky and easily lift the bottle out of his hand. But before you can step out of reach again, he takes your arm.

This time his grip is gentle, nothing like the way he’d ever touched you before. You swallow thickly and dare to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Soldier?”

The gentleness is abandoned as his mouth crashes into yours. You knock off his ballcap in a rush to card your hands through his hair, desperate to have him closer. It’s all practiced and familiar, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

His scruff burns against your jaw and then he’s kissing in its wake, lips and teeth devouring down your neck as his hands dive under your clothes to brush at your waist and hips. The skin-to-skin contact lights you on fire and you help him lift off your shirt in a flurry that’s followed by his own jacket and shirt. The fleeting moment spent apart is enough for you to catch your breath and shiver at the desire swirling in his eyes.

You collide into his chest again, wasting no time in dragging him backward with you toward somewhere, anywhere sturdy enough for support. It’s like you’re back in Mumbai or São Paulo or Kosovo, desperate to find a pleasurable release at the closest available location where he could grind his hips into you. This time it happens to be your kitchen island, a throne of granite onto which Bucky lifts you and your legs easily split, letting him settle between them and pull you so that his bulge presses just so against your core.

You're grabbing his shoulders — clutching flesh and metal — and that familiar coolness of his titanium arm curving around your back brings heat pooling between your legs. He captures your lips in an eager, fluid motion, tongue darting out to graze yours. Expert at killing, expert at kissing. The tendrils of his long hair tickle your forehead just like you remember.

With the usual haste and fervor, you grind against his solid hips in search of friction and he obliges by slipping his hand down to rub through your pants.

Soldier...you nearly moan, but stop short. You don’t have to settle for this kind of quickie. He isn’t just Soldier anymore, and you aren’t under the pressure of a mission.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his lips, grounding him to something besides what you both once were. “Bucky, wait…”

He slows down, his grip moving to your thighs, two heavy palms weighing down on you. Then he looks up slowly — his gaze could crack you in half. There’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes, clouded over by the bewilderment of what being Bucky once was.

“Bedroom,” you order gently.

“What?”

“Let’s do this in the bedroom.”

He has a lot of unlearning to do after so many years of Hydra control, so maybe you can help him with this one thing. You aren’t sure why you want this extra layer of intimacy, but it feels right.

Your insistence makes him wary. His eyes dart around, calculating whether or not this, too, is an attempt to capture him. Anyone could be in on it.

“It’s not a trap, I promise,” you coax, holding your hands up. “It’ll be better like this. I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t move as you slide off the island, brushing against him and letting the moment linger. You leave your eyes locked on his as you turn and take a few inviting steps down the hall, not abandoning the gaze until his doubts subside and he follows you.

The sparse bedroom is suddenly alive with electricity as you kiss him again to pick up right where you left off. Your grip dives into his hair, pulling in the way you remember makes even the stoic soldier moan. The liplock is blinding and his hands mold to your waist and hips and everywhere, keeping you close as the last of the clothes are haphazardly tossed away. Once you’re bare it’s a short stumble onto the bed and he falls on top of you with his metal arm braced in the unmade sheets.

Somehow Bucky looming over you, sinking down with every delectable muscle, is more breathtaking than the Winter Soldier fucking you senseless against a brick wall that digs into your back.

You don’t get a chance to catch that breath before his hand snakes down to toy with your clit, expertly coating it with your slick with a particular brush of his finger that he knows works so well. The gasp wracks your chest — you’d been ready for this since he admitted remembering every salacious encounter — and you almost give in then and there.

But where’s the fun in that?

Your thighs are locked around his hips and you swiftly flip on top, sitting up to settle on his lap. You’re naked, with no chance of hiding weapons, so he quickly relaxes and focuses on how new this is. Studying your form, from draped legs to raised brow. His hand lifts and you catch it in sync, bringing it up to your breast where he rolls your nipple instantly, carefully watching the arch of your back in response. Bucky is nothing if not a quick learner.

He’s hard, aching underneath you, and the tug in your core calls for the same thing. He helps lift your hips and you brace on his chest and then you’re slowly sinking down on his length to draw out the sensation.

It’s a pretty thing to watch his lips curl as he hisses out your name — your real name, not just one of your aliases — and your own sigh flies out when you reach the hilt. You take a few moments to adjust and then start rocking to an inaudible beat. Or maybe that’s your heart thrumming with pride.

It’s different this time. Everything is still eager and strong and deliciously satisfying but this isn’t just a convenient tryst. That has its time and place, like a muggy Havana afternoon after a vicious shootout. This time there’s something in the way Bucky rubs along your thighs while you lean in close, the rhythm of the thrusts keeping you just out of reach of his lips and yet leaving you anchored to those blue eyes.

He cradles the nape of your neck, watching your face morph in pleasure while the tension builds. You can’t help kissing him then and there and everything winds tighter and tighter until the climax takes you, your open mouth grazing against his as bliss washes all over. His name is a whispered prayer from your lips.

Your stuttering hips drag him into the throes a moment later and his gasp rushes past your cheek. A moan rumbles through his chest and you collapse on it, daring to smile as you breathe him in.

God that was good. The two of you still have it.

You unceremoniously roll off and into the sheets before another thought strikes. You’d never had to deal with Bucky in the moments after a good fuck. You always went your separate ways down dimly-lit alleys or out of a jungle. But here he is, stretched out beside you, with no prerogative to leave until morning.

Apparently the same thing was on his mind because he suddenly sits up and tugs a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” You catch his wrist before you know what’s happening. “It’s alright, stay. You need a good night’s sleep. Getting to Romania is gonna be a hell of a ride.”

His eyes sweep over you but there’s no wariness this time. Instead he blinks slowly, giving a half-smile as he settles back down and pulls the covers up. It’s quiet for a few moments, comfortably so, and his arm brushes yours without pulling away.

“You should come with me,” he finally says, voice raspy with sleep and sex. “You need to get out, too.”

It isn’t the first time that thought has crossed your mind but it suddenly feels much more serious. A real chance to escape. Your fingers trace the sheets and mattress below, a place to lay your head that you had never really called home. Of course you have a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice, every good mercenary does — but are you ready to be on the run? To live your life at the whim of whoever finds you in every city?

Bucky has already dozed off beside you, his gentle breathing interrupted by furrowed brows and an occasional shake of his head. He has no choice but to run, though you doubt he’ll outrun the nightmares anytime soon.

Sleep does its job of lulling you, too, and you decide to make your choice in the morning.

***

Two Years Later Bucharest, Romania

The rusted faucet gives a weak stream of water but you still rinse off the dishes, watching stray peelings and seeds whirl down the drain. Big bowls of fruit are your staple breakfast now that you have the time to enjoy them.

The apartment is silent except for the gentle ceramic clinks, with Bucky having stepped out to the market next door to pick up more plums — the favorite household snack.

As ex-assassins, calling your arrangement “dating” feels childish. You and Bucky sleep in the same bed, fuck regularly, cook each other meals, watch each other’s backs, and take turns cleaning the arsenal of weapons. So whatever the term for that relationship is, that’s what you have. You need each other.

With the dishes clear and reading to catch up on, you step into the bathroom in the back of the apartment to grab a clip for your hair. Can’t have the locks in your way when novels await.

You hear the front door open and a smile tugs at your lips. “Ce mai faci?” you call. (How are you?)

The Romanian greeting is part of yours and Bucky’s precautions — a code for when one of you reenters the apartment, just in case. You expect to hear the coded answer: Voi fi mai bine mâine (I will be better tomorrow).

But there’s no reply. Only muted footsteps toward your kitchen.

Your heart slams into overdrive. There’s a handgun hidden under the bathroom sink and it’s cold in your grip as you level it at the door, cautiously stepping into the small hallway. No one is immediately visible but your senses don’t fail you. Someone’s there.

“Reieşi!” you spit. “Come out!”

Still no answer but a careful shuffling of feet just out of sight. You hunker at the wall for only a moment and then fling yourself around the corner, barrel first.

Standing by your refrigerator with arms warily raised is Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You recognize him from both the news and Bucky’s attempts to piece his life together. He cocks his head in surprise — whatever intel had let him here, it hadn’t mentioned you.

But he keeps his voice steady as he breaks the silence. “Where’s Bucky?”

You don’t answer. It’s pointless to lie, since he somehow found the apartment, but you know better than to tell the truth. You can’t claim ignorance anyway — the unwavering handgun in your grasp says otherwise.

You stare back in silence and take a couple calculated steps forward while trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Despite the proximity Steve lowers his arms, correctly guessing that if you haven’t shot yet, you won’t do so without warning. Killing Captain America isn’t exactly the best way to keep people out of your life anyway.

“I just need Bucky. People are coming for him.”

That raises goosebumps along your arms. It makes sense, Steve only finding him when someone worse is on the way. You’re about to demand more answers when footsteps reach the outside of your apartment and pause, no doubt noticing the door slightly ajar.

“Ce mai faci?” It’s Bucky’s strained voice trying the code. Then he more urgently adds, “Esti in siguranta?” (Are you safe?)

“Da,” you call quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Steve. “I’m alright, Bucky. We have a visitor.”

Bucky carefully treads in, his eyes darting between you and Steve and the gun in your hand. The air stings with confusion. But eventually he crosses to you and closes his hand over the barrel to make you lower the gun, and not even your incredulous gaze changes his mind. He simply nods and runs his hand down your back. Trust me.

He pushes a newspaper into your lowered hands and you look down at the words plastered across the top: ‘Winter Soldier Bombs UN Headquarters’. The newspaper crinkles in your tightening grip. Underneath the headline sits a photo of Bucky’s face, clear as day, when it isn’t possible for him to have been there. You’d come out of hiding to vouch for it yourself.

But that wouldn’t matter, you know better. The little world that you and Bucky carved out is caving in fast.

“Do you know me?” It’s the intruder, his gaze no longer fixed on you or your weapon but on his long-lost friend.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

A pause. Steve clenches his jaw. “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

He pauses again as the comms unit crackles in his ear, probably warning of the distant commotion now rumbling up the building from many floors down. You sneak a glance at Bucky and the grim set of his mouth.

“I’ve got him here,” Steve says into his radio. “He’s with someone. Unclear whether she’s a hostile.”

He clips that last part at you, demanding your intentions as you still bristle at him. But you don’t get a chance to threaten him again before Bucky steps in front of you.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore. Neither does she.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve adds, the gravity in his voice sinking deep into your chest.

“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Bucky’s right. Special forces are always taught to eliminate a threat, not wait for heroic negotiating. That doesn’t happen in the real world when real consequences are at stake. A rattling shakes the staircase outside your apartment door, the telltale sign of heavy men and heavy guns on their way. You quickly realize that whether or not Steve is on your side, he’s a better option than what’s waiting out there.

Steve softens. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Bucky takes off the glove concealing his titanium hand, flexing the joints and heaving a sigh. He looks at you and tips another nod. Get ready. You grab another magazine of bullets for your gun.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs.

“That’s why we ran, you know. To try and stay away from the fight.” You cock the gun, staring Steve down. Blaming him for this situation is wrong but damn it feels right. “But when it comes to our door we have no choice.”

Steve gets agitated, glancing between you and Bucky and trying to piece it all together. “Bucky, you pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky stays still. “I don’t know.”

The thundering footsteps get closer, louder and louder like in every nightmare you’d had about being found. You walk to the windows, looking for any trace of the enemies no doubt rappelling down the building at that instant. There are more weapons hidden on that side of the room anyway, and you gather what you can.

“I hate to break this up,” you quip at the men behind you, “but we can’t keep standing here playing high school reunion.”

“She’s right, Buck. We have to go.”

“She’s coming with us.”

You spare Bucky a grin over your shoulder. Of course you’re going with them, but it’s good to hear him say it.

Steve steps closer, faint warnings still being yelled into his comms unit. “They aren’t looking for her. She’ll be safer away from us for now.”

That makes your breath catch. Arguing with Steve will make the oncoming fight that much more difficult. You turn, a sneer already waiting on your lips, but Bucky once again interjects. He catches your shoulders and his gaze sinks deep into yours.

“Steve’s right.”

“What?”

“They’re after me for the stuff in Vienna. You need to get out.”

“Bucky, I’m not —”

Crash! Grenades come flying through the windows, shattering the tension with shards of glass. You knock one right back out and Bucky kicks the other to Steve, who covers the blast with his shield. Bucky is two seconds ahead of you and lifts the mattress to cover you both from a third grenade tossed in. The explosion is hot against your back and your muscles tremble. With his free hand Bucky throws the steel table at the door, blocking it and buying a few minutes before the tac team can bust through.

Rappelers burst through the windows and Steve kicks one down, his gunfire raining into the ceiling instead of your flesh. You return fire to another, clipping his knee and shoulder, while Bucky yanks the third and knocks him against the wall. Two more come swinging in — your adrenaline kicks up another notch — and a scream grates your throat as you land a few good punches on the closest one. You hadn’t fought for your life like this in a long time, but it’s a skill that comes back quick as lightning.

Bucky dashes over to Steve, forcing the other rappeler out of his grip and onto the balcony with a swift knee to the chest.

“Buck, stop!” Steve calls. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky grunts. Floorboards splinter under the force of his punch and he pulls out his backpack before tossing it onto the roof of the adjacent building.

You take a respite from watching for more assailants and step over downed bodies to reach him. The other backpack lands heavily in your hands and despite the chaos, the rest of the world briefly fades when Bucky drags you closer.

“Go, you have to get out!”

All air vanishes. “No. I’m not leaving —”

“Please.” Bucky’s voice is small against the rushing of blood in your ears. His iron grip pulls you toward the windows and he hands you a rappelling rope. “I’ll find you later.”

You know there’s no choice. And arguing further will put everyone in danger. You attach the rope to yourself and the balcony, still pulling Bucky with you as you back onto the ledge. Shotgun blasts at the hinges of the door across the room draw Steve away and you know this is your last blessed moment alone.

Whatever version of Bucky Barnes this is — the man out of time, the assassin, the shell of a vintage hero — you don’t care. This version is yours, and you love him.

You kiss him, hard. He returns it with fire, his hand tangling in your unkempt hair. A sad smile creeps onto your lips when you pull away and Bucky nods solemnly. One gentle push later and you drop from view.

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Masked Yandere with an unknown identity

Magic bullet

M!Yander X F!Reader Warning: Druging reader, non-con, NSFW, P in V, Oral (F receiving), slight somnophilia. Summary: Its the winner of this poll. The man with the mask gets you a drug that makes you unable to move your body but you can still feel everything he does to you. Authors note: It really took some time to get it up :( sorry

If this were any other occasion, this would not be happening. He would check your apartment to make sure nothing was wrong or that no one other than himself where within your proximity. But word spread of a drug, something even he caught on to and now can't stop himself from getting his hands on. 

That this is the right alley is only a guess. The directions were unclear and he had spent nearly three nights just wandering to hopefully run into the right people. But it's been hard having to choose between anonymity and direction. The mask is a good protection, but it’s also a deterrent. It doesn't matter who you are and where you are from, everyone agrees that if you meet something that frightens you, you turn and walk the other way. 

But tonight the hard work bears fruit. At the far end of the alley stands three men, they are tense and seem to be waiting for him. When he approaches they act cool, buffing their chests out and blowing cigarette smoke his way.

“Heard you looking for something.” One of them says. 

“Yeah, you have it?” 

“Whoa, boy calm down, why you in a hurry? Are you scared or something?” If this is an intimation tactic it's not working. On the contrary, he is feeling rather bothered. 

“Yes, actually I am. I have the money, you got the stuff or not?” 

“Here.” One of the guys with a pretty nasty black eye holds up a bag with white powder in it. Its snapped out of his hand before he even had time to react.

“HEY!”

 “So this is the stuff?” He holds the bag away from the guy with the black eye. 

“Yes, You know, we will be nice to you today and let this pass, but if you grab stuff like that again-”

“Do you want the money or not?” 

“Hand it over.”

He brings out a hefty amount of bundled-up money. He holds it between the two of them for a second before he throws it to the side and lands right into a puddle. 

 “Go, take it. I thought you wanted it.” The man glares at him, but it's hard to do with only one eye. 

“Your dead, you know that.” But before anyone has time to react, with a swift motion he tackles the guy with the black eye to the ground. His moans in pain are enough to make the other two back off. 

With the drugs secured, he is off to your apartment. 

Your apartment has never been too difficult to get into. With the copy of your key back in his pocket, he heads for the bedroom. Just to see you. Despite it not being long between the meetings, things still tend to feel lonely. 

Coming home to an empty apartment, cooking and winding off for the day all in solitude. And even now, caressing your sleeping face he wishes for things to be different. To have you and to have you as his very own. 

But today the drugs will have to do. He can already feel his cock hardening at the thought of being inside you. Eagerly he heads for the kitchen. He tries to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake you as he pours you a glass of your favorite juice. He contemplates for a second before he decides that half of it will do. 

With the spiked drink in hand, he gently strokes your face, this time with the full intention of waking you.  

“Hey, wake up darling, I just need you for a second.” He can't contain himself for chuckling at your confused face, how cute you look when you're startled. “I just need you to drink this.” 

“What? What is it?” He helps you to a sitting position before he, as gently and firmly as he can, grabs your jaw to keep your face in place. He knew before going into this that you would never agree to drink his concoction. 

You struggle at first, your hands trying to grab at anything to get the glass away. But you're losing the battle and as you fight to not choke on the liquid, you drink most of it. Some spills down on your clothes and comforter but it's nothing that you will be using anyway. 

You cough and gasp for air as he places the glass calmly on the table. 

“What was that??” You're panicking, he can tell. 

“Shhh, it's okay, you know I will never do anything to harm you. I tell you this all the time.” He wraps his arms around you and lays you back down on the bed. His arms and legs pinning you in place. You are opposing and pleas to let go go unheard, he just hushes you and strokes your hair to calm you, it doesn't take long for the drugs to kick in. All of a sudden your arms lose their strength and fall flat to the side. Your eyes are the last thing that shuts but when they do he can't contain himself anymore. 

“I know you can still hear me so don't be scared. Now, I'm sorry I drugged you, it will wear off eventually, until then if figured we could have some special time together. Try something new.” His words get more and more breathy with every word. Arousal is getting the better of him. 

The first thing that comes off is his mask, how he has been aching to feel his lips against yours. He is smiling into the kiss, his breath fanning your face. Though your lips don't give his anything in return just the feeling of you is enough, for now. Then it's the gloves that fall to the floor. He doesn't want to leave one speck of your skin untouched by his lips and his hands when this night is over. 

He gives your lips one quick peck before he travels down. His lips glaze over your neck, and he trails a few kisses over your collarbones. He is too eager to stop just there, he wants what's further down. Gently he lifts the oversized shirt you're sporting as night clothes, over your head. 

He goes straight for one of your breasts. His tongue goes over and around your nipple, sucking and biting gently. He gives one side a few minutes before he switches. When he deems them done he turns his attention to the only piece of clothing still covering you. With a quick motion, it's thrown to the side and you're back to how he loves you. Bare before him.  

“I promise you, my love. I will make you feel so good. So good, so so good.” He pushes your legs apart taking in the scene before him, your beauty is astounding. “You don't understand how much I've looked forward to tasting you.”

His tongue works away eagerly at your core. He starts at the clit, working you up, wetness already leaking out of you and he laps it up. He adds a finger, you're still rather tight but with every movement and every lick, you're relaxing. 

Then when he goes back to focusing on your clit and with a second finger inside you he hears it. A tiny whine escapes your lips. It spurs him on so much that he thinks for a moment he might be pushed over to climax over it. Almost. 

But he is determined to push you over yours first and he does. Your breath hitches as you squeeze around his fingers. Oh, how he looks forward to you doing that to his cock. As you settle back down he can feel his cock aching in his pants. Without a moment of hesitation, he throws off everything. 

“I feel so exposed.” He says and chuckles. “Even though you can't see me.” He lines his body up with yours, his cock hard and throbbing in between the two of you. But he holds back, instead, he kisses you. 

“I don't know why I'm hesitating now. I guess it's because I kind of wanted…More, if that makes sense.” He sighs. “But it's really your own fault. I would have never done this to you if you'd just accepted me, and allowed me to be with you fully, I wouldn't have taken such drastic measures. …But let's not worry about that now.” 

His forehead meets yours as he looks down. He lines his cock up to your entrance. He pushes in slowly to not overwhelm you, but it's still tight. He groans and a moan slips your lips. 

“Maybe I've been too secretive, holding my identity intact and away from you for fear of rejection. Though I know you never would reject me, even if you wanted to. Because we  both know you love this.” He pushes slowly in, bottoming out as he speaks. “Youre..Fuck…Feels so good.”

His trusts are slow at first. He is using every fiber within him not to either rail you right into the mattress or to cum right this second. But it doesn't take long for him to amp up the pace. The wet sounds from where the two of you connect and the whines that constantly leave your lips. It could be the drugs starting to wear off, but he doesn't miss the way your eyebrows twitch together and that your moans come more frequently now. 

But he is too into it to care now, too in the moment to care about whether the drugs are wearing off or not. He feels you tightening around him and miraculously he pulls through your orgasm, keeping his own intact. 

“I want another…Please…Give me another one.” He mumbles into your ear, sweat dripping down his brow. He continues until he feels you tightening up once again, this time his release comes before yours. The way your pussy squeezes around him a second time makes him lose it. But despite feeling spent he fights through your high with sloppy thrusts. The overstimulation feels like a reward.   

He pulls out just to drop down on your chest, resting his head between your breasts. He lays there and listens to your steady heartbeat for just a moment. Then he worms his arms around you and rolls over on his back with you on top. 

“I want to clean you today.” He whispers into the top of your head. “You know, really take care of you now after I've had my fun.” 

He looks over the bed, the bedding having been thrown on the floor and he sighs. Feeling contempt with you in his arms, this is where you belong, where you always should be. 

“Maybe that could wait a moment or two.” But just as he says that he can see your fingers moving slowly. You are getting the control over your body back and with that pops the bubble he wanted to stay a little longer in. “Or not.” 

He gently lifts you off him and goes to get his belongings together. He gives you a quick clean and a peck to your lips before he is out the door just in time for you to slowly sit up and open your eyes.

[bahablastplz]

Undeniably His: Vampire Jeongin x Reader

Inspired by this post from @cbini, I started thinking about what sex would be like with your boyfriend I.N. the first time after he turns into a vampire with his new overly heightened senses. Content: Smut, Angst Warnings: Mentions of death, established relationship, kissing, blood-drinking, marking, hair-pulling, oral f! receiving, oral m! receiving, unprotected sex (but it doesn’t matter bc vampires can’t get humans pregnant), p in v sex, overstimulation   WC: 2600 

You had been dating Jeongin for a little over two years when the accident happened. A freak incident had sent your boyfriend over a bridge in a car accident that killed five people; he was the only survivor, pulled from the water in some freak miracle. Not a scratch on him. Physically, he was fine, but that was when he started experiencing other symptoms. Violent impulses. Weird cravings.  Heightened senses.  When he started getting sick you were beside yourself with worry. You had almost lost him once, you could not do it again. You had stuck by his side throughout the entire accident, through his grief, and of course, through the sickness. Your questions were answered when he was approached by the creature that turned him, telling him the truth of that night. That Jeongin needs to feed or he will die. That he was a vampire. 

Jeongin was overstruck with guilt and grief. He wouldn’t feed, he decided, he couldn’t kill another human being. This was much to your dismay, as this would mean that you would both lose your boyfriend and bestfriend. His mother would lose a son. The community would have to suffer through yet another loss after the accident. 

Jeongin fed against his own will. His behavior and attitude had changed over the course of his illness, and he had gotten into a petty fight. He didn’t even know the guy's name, but when Jeongin was pushed, weak and frail, something snapped. His fangs embedded into the man’s skin and he bled him dry. He didn’t even tell you after; you had read in the local news of a man that was exsanguinated, mysteriously in the night and you knew what your boyfriend had done. Immediately the mystery sickness went away but he could no longer bring himself to face you or his family, despite your protests and pleas to let you help him.

It was a long and grueling journey, convincing Jeongin to get back together with you. He wouldn’t even let you be ‘just friends,’ or even in your presence until he could learn to control his bloodlust. After several months he started going back to school again, despite the university putting him on academic probation; they gave him time to process his supposed PTSD from the accident. It was soon after he finally started answering your texts. 

Slowly, your boyfriend let you back into his life. He was the same man as he was before the accident, but he was different, in some ways. He had alarming self-control, for one. He was more sure of himself. The way he carried himself was strong and powerful, not to be messed with. He had built up a wall, one you had intended to help him tear down piece by piece. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you on your break, he had told you. It was the fact that he had loved you, and with his heightened senses he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. Just your smell, it drove him insane, he confessed. He explained to you that you were like a drug, and every way he wanted and needed you before he transformed, grew tenfold and consumed him. With his time away he grew satiated and more confident that he could control himself, never going as far to kill another human when he fed. 

Tonight was the night you finally convinced him to stay over in your dorm. 

It was refreshing. It was familiar. It was a little strange that your boyfriend’s familiar warmth was gone, but you were happy to be in his presence again. Because in those few months that he took to try to navigate his new identity, you never stopped loving him. It took him some convincing, but you let him know that you would love both the old Jeongin and the new Jeongin. Tonight, as you watch a comfort movie in his arms you’re encapsulated in the embrace of his non-beating heart. One that, according to him, loves you deeper and more intensely than the old one had capacity for. 

You kiss him. It’s hesitant, it’s soft, it contains so many emotions. He’s wiping away a tear that you didn’t know had slipped as he kisses you deeper. Your hands tug through his hair just the way he likes, and he’s out of breath so suddenly, He’s breathing hard, his chest evident of the laborious task that kissing you is. When your tongue dips into his mouth he moans into you. You feel a soft prick against your lips and then Jeongin is across the room, apart from you as if your skin had set him ablaze. His eyes are wide and he looks frantic, a hand on his chest as if to stop his heart from beating so fast though you both know that’s not the case. When your hand reaches your mouth to investigate, you see exactly what your boyfriend was so afraid of. Your blood. In the midst of your makeout session, he had accidentally pricked your lip with his fang, drawing blood. Not a lot, but enough to freak him out, evidently. 

“I–I’m so sorry,” he whispers. His voice trembles. 

You cross the room and meet your boyfriend. You reach your hand out to touch his face but he draws away. 

“I can’t… I’m going to hurt you,” he says. 

“You’re not going to hurt me, Innie. I know you. This is the same body you’ve touched a million times before, you know my body better than I do. I trust you… to be intimate with me, again. So, please,” you say, reaching your blood-soaked finger up to his lips. 

“Y/N… I’m afraid that I won’t be able to control myself,” he says, closing his eyes as if practicing restraint. 

“Then don’t.” You’re pushed against the bed at superhuman speed, his hips pressing into you hard. The offered finger is in his mouth and he’s unabashedly sucking the blood from it, letting out a filthy, guttural moan. Before you can question the man his lips are against yours again, sucking them into his mouth, drinking up the blood from the small wound he had given you. His tongue is all over yours and you can taste your copper substance on his mouth though it's not unpleasant. He breathes into you as if you are his lifeforce, his oxygen. Meanwhile, he ruts his hips against you over and over again, a bruising yet welcomed grip on your waist. 

“Feels good?” You ask, pulling away to look in his eyes. He’s panting, letting out little whimpers and looking absolutely wrecked. 

“S’good. You don’t even know. I can smell you, how wet you are for me from here. I can hear how fast your heart is beating just for me… And every time you touch me my skin feels like it’s on fire. I’m so sensitive… so hard,” he emphasizes with a harsh thrust against your clothed skin, “You’re literally heavenly. Intoxicating. The best thing I’ve ever felt. I need you. I’ve never needed anything more.” He looks scared that you might deny him, though you couldn’t in a million years imagine denying him, especially not now.

You spread your legs for him, allowing him the opportunity to slot between them. He pulls himself into you and moans as you spread wet open-mouthed kisses against his neck. You lick a stripe upwards from his collarbone to his jaw and he clutches you tight, hips stuttering. 

His hands are in your hair, embedded into your scalp and he pulls tight, baring your neck for him. Your moan is breathy and light as he presses his lips to your skin, not sinking his teeth into you like you had thought. He sucks harsh bruises into your neck and the offending area then softens each spot with his tongue. When he moves back to admire his handiwork, he smiles. You’re covered with large purple splotches all over. You’re his, undeniably so. 

He pulls off your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, maneuvering your hips and holding you upwards so that he has full access to your glistening core. He really was right about you being wet for him, and you don’t have time to be embarrassed by the statement he made of being able to smell it before he’s diving in, his face directly at your entrance. He wastes no time before licking, sucking, and swirling his tongue around you. 

“Too much, Innie, too fast!” You whine out, trying to push his head away. He doesn’t budge nor indicate that he felt your actions; you couldn’t move away from him. He was in control, and you, forced to take every ounce of pleasure he delegates. 

“Mm, baby… I’ve been away from this pussy for too long… God you taste so, so good.” A loud slurping sound comes from his mouth and you’re in the right mind to be embarrassed from such a filthy sound. You cover your face but your hand is by your side just as fast, his bruising grip around your wrist holding you in place. “Don’t,” he warns. “Want to see your face as I ruin you. Want to hear every moan, wanna hear your heart beat this fast just for me, baby.” He was adamant about getting you to fall apart for him on his tongue, and so you do; you cum on with a loud moan and he laps up your release and holds your trembling thighs in place with ease. 

As you look at him he wipes away the wetness on his face, eyes gazing into you. He freezes in place as you drop onto your knees in front of him and grab onto his waistband. 

“Are you sure?” He stammers, already affected by your small lingering touch. 

“We’ve been away for too long,” you say, repeating his words from earlier. “Need to taste your cock again.” You pull down his pants and reveal his length, hard and throbbing and begging to be touched. It’s already releasing precum from when he was grinding into you earlier, and you lap it up eagerly. His hand places a bruising grip in your hair, close to its roots, which encourages you to continue with your ministrations.  

“Shit,” he curses as you wrap your lips around him, flicking your tongue against his tip. “Baby your mouth feels so fucking good, so wet. God I could bust right now,” he says. He uses his hands to hold the sides of your head, guiding your mouth up and down his length, essentially letting him use your face like a toy for his pleasure. Your lips wrap around him and you let spit run down your face, coating your chin. You blink up at him through teary eyes and you know that you look probably just as wrecked as he does, the epitome of a perfect disaster created just for him. 

He bucks his hips into your face for a few seconds and then pulls away quickly. You drop to the floor, breathing heavily, looking up at the man. He pants and holds himself up against the bed with one arm, trying to ground himself. 

“Shit baby, I’ve never felt anything that good in my life…” He breathes. “Only you… But it feels better now, you feel so good… Let me fuck your pretty pussy, baby. Please.” He begs even though he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to ask you twice before you’re laying on the bed, legs spread open wide for him. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, you whine as he pushes into you slowly. He’s long, just like you remember him, but he’s so hard and you can already feel him pulsing inside of you. As he bottoms out and his hips grind against your clit, you feel yourself contracting against his length. You two remain unmoving but the room already sounds so dirty just from your pathetic moans and heavy breathing. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and it makes you smile knowing he can hear it, that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He starts moving, slow but deep. Within four hard strokes he’s already releasing deep inside you, and you both gasp. In all the time you had been with him, he had never cum inside before–but now that he’s turned it doesn’t matter. As he fills you up you’re overflowing and he’s crying when you look at him. He moans vehemently but his hips aren’t slowing down; if anything, they speed up as he continues to fuck his release into you, sloppy and hard. He whines at the overstimulation he’s caused himself and looks like his pleasure is mixed with pain. His hips snap into you harder than anything you’ve ever felt before, the head of his cock pushing right against your g-spot every time. 

He reaches his fingers down and swipes up the release from where the two of you connect, gathering it on his fingers and bringing it to your mouth. It’s reminiscent of the scene just minutes ago, you think as you suck his release off of his fingers. His eyes are boring into yours and drinking up every reaction, every scrunch of your face and twitch of pleasure, and it drives you insane with both pleasure and desire to be so seen by someone you’re so in love with. 

You notice his hands gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles ghost-white. 

“Bite me,” you say, suddenly. His hips stutter at your words, all confidence immediately gone. 

“What? I can’t–” 

“Jeongin, love, I trust you more than any other living soul on this planet,” you say through uneven breaths. “God, this body was yours before and it’s yours now. Stop holding back and make me yours again. Please,” You say. 

His teeth sink into your neck and you let out a sharp cry; you feel shock moreso than pain, and as he drinks languidly from your neck, taking just what he needs, you cum around his cock. His fingernails dig into your skin and his hips snap into yours brutally, ripping your orgasm out of you in the most intense spasm of pain and pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life. Adrenaline courses through your veins and your ears are ringing, blinded by the intensity of it all, because Jeongin isn’t holding back, because you’ve broken down his walls, you think as he cums into you for the second time that night. 

He laps up the remaining blood that has dribbled down your neck as his hips still into you and you still pulse around him from the aftershocks. When you look at him you're wiping his tears away, and he wipes away yours. 

“Thank you,” he says, holding you as close to his body as can possibly be. “You make me feel like I’m still human.” 

“That’s because you are,” you whisper into his hair. “Your humanity is something you never lost.” 

He hums in approval and you fall asleep in his arms that night, closer in mind and body than ever before.  ***  “I see you and I.N. got back together!” Your best friend laughs as the two of you walk to class together the next day. You haven’t told her anything, how would she know? She sees your shocked expression. “Look at your neck, geez, what is he, a vampire? God damn,” she emphasizes her words by pointing at the large bruises you did a poor job of covering up. You laugh at her words a little too hard, knowing that she will never know that she wasn’t that far off from the truth. That was a secret for you and Jeongin to share. *** Masterlist Recs

[torasplanet]

❝𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝘼 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you think armin's the sweetest boy on campus until you learn he's just like his stupid frat boy friends but it still doesn't drive you away from him. if anything it draws you closer.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, toxic!armin, college au, armin is lowkey a gaslighter, drinking, smoking, weed, degradation, praise, slut-shaming, false rumors, scumbag!eren, scumbag!connie mention of historia x ymir, couch sex, oral(m receiving), p in v, recording, mean!armin, orgasm denial, unprotected, relations between jean and reader hinted, arguing, gaslighting ig??, crying, dacryphilia, kinda manipulation, petnames(pretty, baby, slut), threat of leaking nudes, mirror sex??, kinda messy so don't mind if ur confused, skin color not mentioned

Armin Arlert was probably the sweetest boy on the entire college campus.

It was weird that he hung out with all the jerk frat boys like Connie, Eren, and Reiner despite his good reputation but anytime anyone asked, he’d tell them that they were childhood friends and they understood. You can’t really just ditch someone you’ve known since childhood over some stupid choice of the type of person they are in college so no matter who Armin associated himself with, everyone always saw him as the sweet little blonde who was a bookworm and cared about his grades more than anything.

Well, everyone that didn’t really know him thought that. All the people who were close to Armin knew that he wasn’t any of that, not anymore at least. Yes, Armin was kinder than any of them but he wasn’t a sweetheart. Just as Eren and Connie would meet up to smoke and talk about all the girls they fucked, Armin would be right next to them laughing evilly and rolling blunts, not that he let anyone know it. It was much easier for Armin to let people believe that false perception of him being innocent and an angel than being just like Eren, made it easier to get girls too.

You were one of the few people who knew this and at first, it freaked you out but you learned to adjust to it and you were right on his lap whenever he was with his frat boy friends lighting the blunt between his lips like the good girl you wanted to be for him, the good boy that just wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was.

But there’s always a part in you that wish you knew all of this before you truly got to know Armin or at least got to know it in a different way…not after being labeled campus slut by him and his stupid fucking frat friends.

It started off so simple, you just saw Armin at a party, one of Connie’s parties, and thought he looked cuter than ever and plus he had helped you on one of your tests before so you did owe him a bunch.

“Oh shit! Fuck!” Armin shouted leaning back on his palms and throwing his head back making his blonde strands fly everywhere, the blonde strands were identical to the bush on his pelvis that your nose was planted in except for the curliness of his pubes. Your hands held onto his thighs to support yourself as you continued to stare up at him through your lashes with his cock stuffed in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bobbed your head making you gag.

His blue eyes darted down to meet yours as redness flushed the color of his face. It didn’t matter how badly Armin acted behind the scenes or what he said, there would always be moments where he was just so submissive especially when he was getting the best head he’d ever gotten in a while “Don’t look at me like that.” He whimpered out embarrassedly closing his eyes not wanting to look at you as it made him more flustered than he was.

Armin would never say this, well not to your face but from the moment you walked up to him at that party, he thought you were a slut. The way you looked at him, how you talked, that filthy fucking smile on your face, it just told him that you wanted him to fuck you or at least wanted dick from him in any way you could get it.

Wasn’t like he was really surprised though, he’s heard the shit that you’ve done. Fucking Jean, fucking Connie and this one was probably false but the fact that the rumor even existed in the first place, gave Armin reasons to believe you were a grade-A slut. He knew how girls talked and how they would especially go out of their way to say bad shit about girls they didn’t like but Connie would say how it was true a lot so he kind of believed it. Armin thought you were too pretty to be such a slut. Well, a campus slut anyway.

“Fuck pretty…gonna make me cum…” Armin’s moans were so gorgeous, just like you thought they would be. As Armin got closer to the edge, he pulled out of your mouth and sprayed his cum all over your face making sure you closed your eyes before he did it so you wouldn’t get any in your eye. He admired the look of your lovely face covered in the leftovers of his orgasm and smiled sweetly down at you.

The cum that landed on the tip of your tongue tasted so sweet, it was only right that a boy as sweet as him has a sweet taste too. You’ve thought about what it’d taste like for almost forever but maybe you should’ve thought way more about it because just because someone’s cum tastes nice doesn’t mean they are.

Unfortunately, you weren’t going to get this until a few days later when girls started looking at you like you were walking around naked and so were the guys but you really wouldn’t get what was going on until Hitch told you.

Connie and Reiner were going around telling everyone how you blew Armin at the party and had to go to the bathroom to wipe the remains of it off your face and you didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time those guys have told people you fucked someone whether you did or didn’t but it only really did start to bother you when Armin didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything to you regarding the situation, he didn’t tell people to stop talking about it in the class you two shared, and he merely chuckled when he heard a girl call you the frat slut and mention how you probably have made your way around the entire frat house.

That pissed you off.

You knew it was true that you had sucked off Armin and you can’t really say much when it’s the truth being whispered into everyone’s ears behind your back and right in front of your face but when everyone was constantly insulting you, you at least expected Armin the sweetheart, Armin the kindest boy ever to say something to them or at least his friends for spreading it around. Why the fuck did he even tell them in the first place because no one saw you two leave that room and no one saw you go in the room with him, only walking up the stairs.

Fuck what everyone said about Armin being nice, about Armin being kind, about Armin being the sweetest boy ever because he was not. Nice boys don’t kiss and tell, nice boys don’t let people insult you when he wanted his dick sucked just as much as you wanted to suck it and Nice boys certainly don’t let their friends tell the whole fucking world and their mama that you sucked their dick once at a party.

Armin was not a nice boy and he wasn’t going to just get away with that shit without you saying a damn word and if he thought he would, he was fucking stupid. I mean he saw what you did to Connie after you heard he was agreeing with the false rumor, he even winced when you slapped the shit out of his friend and commented on how red Connie’s cheek was. If he thought you weren’t going to do that to him because he was ‘nice’, he wasn’t as smart as everyone perceived him to be.

But even with these feelings, you had a hard time going up to him during classes or whenever you saw him really and confronting him. Armin was always around people, people who would label you as the problem if you came up to the blonde and started to yell at him about something no one saw as his fault and that just made your hatred for him burn like a house fire inside of you.

You didn’t want to see his stupid face. You didn’t want to hear his name. You didn’t want to be anywhere near him at all! Nor did you want to be around the loudmouths that started the gossiping of your sex life and made it public.

So a few weeks after all of this, you decided to skip out on one of Connie’s parties and stay inside. You didn’t get how he could host parties practically every week, he was really trying to live those 2000’s romance movies that display college kids as people who party every night but then again, those movies weren’t exactly false because you ended up going anyway.

Not by choice, of course, your dorm roommate and friend, Historia had convinced you to come because she wanted someone to go with her to this party. You didn’t even know why she wanted to go so badly, the best idea you had was that it was because of this new girl, Ymir, she was talking to but that still did not give her any reason to shove you in the back of her car and throw a dress and pair of heels along with you.

“Stop complaining! It won’t be that bad, I’m sure you won’t even see him.” Historia reassured looking back at you through the rearview mirror as you applied mascara to your eyelashes using the camera of your phone to help you. How dumb did this Ymir girl make Historia? Of course, you’d end up seeing Armin. It was Connie’s party after all and he was bound to make himself known to everyone and probably including his ‘best buddies’ in it too.

A scoff left your lips as you rapidly blinked your lashes “Even if I don’t see him, I’ll see the others and they’ll probably be worse and actually talk.” If you ran into Eren, Connie, or Reiner, they’d definitely comment on what they had told everyone and add a snarky insult about if they could be next. The only one that possibly wouldn’t say anything like that was Jean and that was why he was the only one out of them except for Armin that you actually fucked.

“Yeah, all they do is talk. You know that (Y/n)...” The blonde woman said in an attempt to reassure you and to some degree, it did work. She was right.

All they did was talk, that was their whole thing but at the same time, their talking was the same reason why you were in this predicament in the first place. Fuck it, if they did start talking, you could always resort to throwing a drink in their face and laughing in Eren’s face as he yelled about his precious hair getting all wet.

Historia looked at you again noticing your lack of reply and you were already looking at her. As if she could read your mind, she smiled and looked away speaking simple words “Just don’t cause a scene, please? I really wanna have a good time tonight.” A wide grin stretched across your face making your lip gloss shine in the moonlight that peeked through the windows of the car and onto your body.

“With Ymir?” The blonde’s face went red at the mention of the brunette and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly “Shut it! I bet if Jean’s here you’ll have a good time with him.” You would’ve laughed if you didn’t get embarrassed at her mention of Jean. He was a good guy, don’t get me wrong but you didn’t want that.

You didn’t know why you didn’t like that but it’s not something you wanted. There was a reason majority of the guys you’ve loved or had sex with were usually frat boys or just general dickheads, whether you knew it or not. You had no idea how you managed to snag someone like Jean, such a sweet guy. You almost thought that with Armin too until you figured out what was really going on.

But even with him being a sweet guy, you still wouldn’t have a good time with him, probably wouldn’t have a time at all. Not after he’s listened to his friends say how they’ve fucked you, the only one that was missing was Reiner. Eren couldn’t say he fucked you or you gave him head or anything because he only fingered you which didn’t really count plus you were pretty sure he and Mikasa had a thing going on so him bragging and telling everyone about some small shit like that was not do him any favors.

Thinking about what Jean must be hearing from his friends made you realize how much of a slut you were. But it wasn’t your fault that all the hot guys in college happened to be friends and frat guys…it wasn’t your fault either that they were all jerks! So there should be no criticism against her still thinking Armin was cute even after figuring out that the kind personality was just a facade.

I mean, it’s not like he took off a mask and revealed an entire different face right?

But just because you still thought he was good-looking didn’t mean you weren’t still upset about his blabbermouth.

So when you stepped into the house and the first thing you saw was Armin, Eren, and Connie all talking near the staircase while passing around a blunt, you audibly groaned loudly probably loud enough for them to hear. You wanted to burn the whole house down as soon as your eyes landed on their forms watching as they laughed about something that was probably stupid.

But…Historia asked you to not make a scene and you were going to respect what she wanted because just because you were all sad and upset. And a little pent-up if we were being completely honest. Though…you couldn’t sit at this party and not say anything to that blonde fuck.

Once Historia left, you made your way over to the three boys who had caught on to your sudden presence at the party just a bit after you started to go toward them “Woah, looks like she can’t get enough of you, man.” Connie said nudging Armin with his elbow as he took a drag from the blunt, Eren let out a small chuckle at this.

You stood in front of the three men just glaring daggers at Armin “What’s up?” Armin asked as if he hadn’t done anything wrong at all and it pissed you off more “What’s up is that we need to talk.” You got nothing in return but laughs coming from Connie and Eren who were making eye contact obviously thinking about something dirty.

“Like you talked all on his dick?” Connie asked between his laughs while passing the blunt to Armin who just stood there with a smile on his face looking as though he was resisting the urge to burst out laughing right in your face. You took notice of the cup in his hand and quickly made the decision to flip it spilling the alcohol all over his white tee.

“What the fuck (y/n)!?” Connie shouted a frown appearing on his face real quick as he looked down at the large stain on his shirt “You know what the fuck springer.” You said quickly as you grabbed Armin’s wrist and dragged him away from his friends hearing one of them call you a bitch on your way.

You didn’t look back at Armin to see what his face looked like as you dragged him to the nearest room to talk which happened to be a bathroom, he didn’t say anything as you two walked and he was probably still smoking. You wished you knew what Armin thought of you, if he had any empathetic thoughts toward you, or if he didn’t care at all.

It’s hard to know the answer to something like that when the person in question is a fucking liar. Though he never said to anyone that he was nice, that he was the kindest person in the world, he never stopped anyone from thinking that. He sure as hell didn’t stop you from thinking that when your face was coated in his cum.

“If you’re trying to distance yourself from that whole campus slut thing, taking me into a bathroom isn’t the best idea,” Armin said leaning against the wall and closing the bathroom door with his foot. At least he wasn’t going to pretend like he was that innocent little blonde when you two were talking alone, he respected you that much not to lie to your face when you both know what happened.

“You were the one that made everyone believe I’m a campus slut!” You said glaring at him your hands balled into fists. You didn’t know if you were upset about the fact that he was looking at you without a care in the world in those bright blue swirls that were his eyes while putting the blunt to his lips and letting the smoke escape through his nostrils or what he said the moment you two made it into this bathroom.

Armin looked down at the blunt as he removed it from in between his soft pink lips “No? I didn’t tell people that.” Well, you might as well throw that whole ‘respect’ thing out the window because he was acting like he didn’t know what he did. His lingering stare on your body made a million thoughts run through your head as you tried to find a way to respond that wouldn’t be socking him in his shit right now.

“But you told Connie and Eren that when you didn’t have to.” Armin simply shrugged as he met your eyes once more leaning his hip against the sink counter and planting his hand on the surface to support himself “I didn’t know they were going to say anything.” He said.

This pissed you off way more than you thought it would. Mainly because of his tone. He didn’t even sound like he was lying at all, he sounded as though he was telling the truth and you knew he wasn’t. It was fucking scary. “Yes, you did! They’re your friends and you know all the shit they’ve said about me.” You shouted at him while Armin just stared down at you. Anyone who was around the bathroom could definitely hear you yelling at him.

“Why are you mad at me? Connie’s the one that said all that shit, not me.” Yeah, he may have been right. He didn’t say anything but he still didn’t say shit when Connie started blabbering his mouth about you and Armin and he’s the reason why Connie had something to say in the first place. He knew how Connie and Eren were with anything that someone told them and he still said something when he didn’t have to.

Armin was pissing you off to a crazy extent but you didn’t say anything, you just stared at him. It was slutty and sick of you to be thinking about how hot he looked right now with the smoke blowing from between his lips while he was fucking with your head trying to make it seem like you had no right to be mad at him. “And it’s not exactly like they’re wrong about you being the slut…” You didn’t say anything and just continued to stare at him waiting for him to keep talking.

“You fucked Jean, fucked Connie and me…who knows who’s next? Reiner?” Armin said throwing one finger up with every name that left his mouth with a teasing smile reappearing on his face before placing the blunt to his lips and exhaling the smoke in your face making sure you knew that he didn’t give a fuck.

“I never fucked that short bitch Connie!” Armin let out a laugh leaning his head back against the wall, he clearly didn’t give a fuck but he didn’t have to laugh in your face making it clear that he also didn’t take you seriously at all “Still fucked Jean and gave me head. Not like anyone will believe that you didn’t fuck Connie with a reputation like that.” Armin said rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at you as if he was sorry that you had to deal with that but you knew he wasn’t. He was just trying to fucking play with your head.

It was working.

Looking at him through your mascara-coated lashes, you wondered if he believed that shit like everyone else did. If Connie told him the truth about nothing happening. Did he at least have the common decency to know his friend was lying?

You wished that Armin was that sweet boy you thought he was but then again you can’t say that because you were still thinking about how cute he was and what he thought of you even when knowing how he truthfully was. Pathetic. “Do you believe that?” You asked your voice lower than it was before looking away from Armin not wanting to see whatever mocking look he was giving you, it’d make you feel even more pathetic.

His white and blue Jordans came into your view blocking your gaze on the tile bathroom floor “Why would I tell you that? It’ll ruin the game.” Armin said mockingly soft. Game? Did he think all of this shit was a game? Something to entertain him? Why didn’t you realize this from the start of this conversation?

Because you were blinded by him that’s why and that’s probably what made it fun for him. Armin knew he was fucking with your head and he was probably smiling at you because of it.

“This isn’t a game. If it is, it’s not fucking fun.” You said looking back up at him with your brows furrowing in anger. Your hands plant themselves on his chest and push him back away from you, it didn’t seem to phase him at all and in fact he just smiled doubling down to walk even closer to you.

“We can make it fun,” Armin said with a smirk on his face and you wanted to say ‘fuck no’, you wanted to leave, you wanted to hit him but you didn’t because you didn’t really want to. You wanted to know how he was going to make it fun even though you already had an idea of what he was talking about and it was an idea that you weren’t opposed to.

It was really fucking pathetic but you can’t help how you feel nor could you stop the pulsing feeling in your cunt squeezing around literally nothing just wishing that the nothing was being replaced with him “We’re already in the bathroom together, I can make everything they’re about to say when you leave come true.” Armin continued and it took everything to not kiss him with how close his face was to yours.

You wanted to at least have some respect for yourself. You just got to this party, the first thing you did was grab Armin and take him to the bathroom which seemed wrong enough as it is not only from other people’s perspective but from yours too and if you started fucking him while in here when you were supposed to yell at him and tell him off, that’d just make everyone really believe you were a cock hungry slut including yourself.

Armin then backed his face away which confused you and you showed it on your face “But if you don’t want to…I won’t. You can go slut yourself out to someone you want.” That’s what threw you off. 

You thought he was being sweet with wanting consent until the second part of his sentence left his throat. Even when saying something like that which would make a girl fall to her knees because of how kind he was about needing to know if you wanted it, he still found a way to slut-shame you like everyone else fucking did. 

It was true, all guys were fucking dickheads.

“I thought you were actually a good guy…” You muttered feeling tears beginning to burn in your eyes and a smile just appeared on his face again “If you wanted a good boy, baby you should’ve fucked bertholdt. You’d probably still do it.” Armin said coldly with a chuckle coming from under his breath.

Your hands clenched into tight fists once again but this time you actually put them to use. Your hand went flying toward Armin’s nose making him step back going to hold his nose with a groan and without another word, you left the bathroom rubbing your knuckles leaving Armin in there by himself.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. You didn’t fucking need Armin to have a good time, you didn’t need him for dick either because if you really wanted it that damn bad, you’d find someone. Hell you might even go to Floch just to fucking avoid him, he’d probably be the only guy to want to fuck you without wanting to tell the whole world after Connie’s little lies of you being ran through by the entire Frat house he was in.

When the party was eventually over, you found yourself wandering down the hallway of the dormitories with your heels in your hand and alone. Historia had dropped you off with Ymir in the car adn they went their own way probably either to Ymir’s house or just fucking in the car which you respected so you went about your own way to go to the dorm.

Afterall, you were drunk but you weren’t that drunk. You could still stand, walk and think straight so you were going to be fine but it took a lot of convincing from you and Ymir that you were going to be fine and that they could just leave. You just hoped historia was enjoying herself with Ymir because you clearly weren’t with your horrible mood.

Your bare feet stepped along the carpeted floor of the dorm hallway with your heels clacking against each other in your hand. A frown brought down your face as you let out a sigh. You wanted someone right now.

You didn’t know who you wanted but you needed someone. You spent the entire party babysitting a red solo cup that got refilled probably every three minutes, you ignored the whispers and the stares from people and the snickers you got whenever the guys from the frat house passed by you and don’t even get me started on how you were whenever you caught a glimpse of the blonde man.

It was probably the saddest party you’d ever been to and it left you with a sad feeling resting inside of you, it was your fault honestly. If you weren’t so damn bad at picking out guys and always going for the scumbags and dicks, you wouldn’t be so sad almost crying while finding your way down to your dorm.

“No eren, I didn’t fucking take your weed.” You froze when you heard Armin’s voice. It was very muffled clearly coming from behind a door. Damn, you had forgotten that Armin also lived in the dorms and happened to be on the same floor as you were, it was how you managed to ask him for help for that class.

Your head turned to your right seeing that brown door that looked identical to every other door that was in this hallway except for that metal plate with the numbers ‘312’ that haunted you and made your skin run cold, goosebumps popping up on your exposed arms. Had it always been this cold in the hallway? You didn’t know if it was or the sudden known presence of Armin that was making you feel like it was freezing.

You didn’t continue walking or anything and just stood there staring at the door as if you were waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. He was probably just listening to Eren whine about that damn chain.

Without thinking, you allowed your feet to carry you closer to the door with your stare not faltering one bit. You needed someone so bad, you were just so upset hat you wanted to be in someone’s embrace no matter if it was sex or just cuddling and Armin shouldn’t have been the person you decided on. He was the one that made you feel like this in the first place along with his stupid friends.

But you still wanted him. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his blonde hair making an unruly messy of it, you wanted him to fill you up and making you feel so full, you wanted to smash your lips onto his. You wanted Armin so bad you thought it was going to kill you. Fuck being pathetic, fuck all that shit of feeling bad for wanting a mean guy, you’ll never learn to have fun if you spend all your time just feeling sorry for yourself and what kind of guys you like.

You were already known as a slut and starting to beleive it yourself, there’s nothing you could dp to make people stop thinking that so why not just fucking imbrace it?

You brought those same bruised knuckles that smashed into Armin’s nose up to the door and knocked on the wood gently a few times before dropping your arm back down to your side turning your head down to look at your feet “Eren are you at my fucking door? I told you I don’t got that shit.” His voice was louder than it was the first time and seemed less muffled.

You waited paitently and a little anxious that he’d just slam the door back in your face upset that you punched him in his shit. The sound of the door unlocking made you squeeze your eyes shut not wanting to even look at his shoes but after a few seconds of silence, you decided to look at him.

You slowly lifted your head making eye contact with Armin who was looking down at you, it seemed as though just you staring up at him was the thing that made him happy because a evil lustful grin formed on his lips as he watched you shfit your weight onto your other foot clearly nervous.

“I’ll call you back Eren.”

Moans bounced off the walls of Armin’s dorm as your nails dug into the soft plushness of the couch trying to hold back your moans though you weren’t really doing that good of a job at it “Why you hiding your moans from me baby? I wanna know how good I make my slut feel.” Armin said teasingly as his hands harshly gripped your hips while watching as he slid in and out of you with ease nearly drooling at the sight of how good you sucked his cock in.

Though Armin doubted that he should be surprised, you were so good at taking it down your throat, it’s only normal that you’re good at taking it in your pussy too “S-Sorry, mhm…” You whimpered as you snuck your hand down to draw circles on your clit only making more moans come from your mouth “It’s okay just take it like a good girl. I know you can.” His words made you basically melt onto the spot.

You wanted to be Armin’s good girl so badly, only his. “Uh huh…m’ your good girl.” Your words were just gibberish at this point, he was fucking you so good that you could barely comprehend anything that was going on only how he was ramming inside of you “That’s right, mine. All mine…” You heard Armin whisper possibly one of his hands slapping your thigh making a yelp come out of your mouth.

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt his violent pace slow a bit “Armin…” You were too busy lost in your dreams of pleasure to even notice the missing hand on your hips, the pad of your finger continued to draw circles on your clit bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm “Baby show me how good of a girl you are.” Armin’s words made you open your eyes with a sound of confusion and his phone was shoved in your face recording you; You could see yourself in the camera.

It was an extreme distinction from when you looked into the camera of your phone to fix your makeup, the mascara was running down your face in streams of tears, lipgloss smudged, and probably on Armin’s lips too, red rims around your eyes showing your crying from how good he was fucking you and your lips parted in an ‘O’ with moans slipping out.

His other hand left your hip and found its way to your neck squeezing just lightly and making you groan, he lifted you so your back was pressed up against his chest with him still thrusting up in you hitting your cervix “What are you?” Armin asked as you watched as your tits bounced up and down with each thrust he delivered to your cunt, his cock disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

Your hand still down rubbing circles on your clit which Armin caught onto “A-A slut…” You whispered watching as he set up the phone so it could stand on its own before putting his now free hand on top of yours “Whose slut?” Yeah, you were waiting for that. You didn’t know if he wanted you to automatically know that or if he wanted to hear you admit it after prodding for the answer.

You lowered your head gasping with your chest rising up and down with deep breaths feelings yourself come closer but then he grabbed your hand and tore it from your clit “Say it.” He said sternly with a tight hold on your hand watching you from the camera on the phone, you whined loudly wanting the attention to your clit to return as you were so close, his dick was enough but you wanted more. Like a greedy whore.

“Yours! I’m your slut armin, yours.” You shouted trying to tear your hand away from Armin’s but he didn’t allow you to and grinned at it, you saw it in the video. He looked at you like he was going to kill you like he had the evilest idea in his head “Please, I just wanna cum.” Armin only laughed under his breath at this and leaned down placing his chin on your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Well hold it,” Armin said gently biting down on your neck and hearing you whimper in response. You couldn’t hold it, how could he even begin to ask you that with the way he was fucking you? He was just trying to play with your head even in this intimate moment, if you can even call it that with the filthy noises that both of you were making “I can’t.” You forced out with a sob whining as Armin’s hand moved up to grab at your jaw harshly and force you to look into the camera and see yourself.

You saw a bulge in your stomach and reached your free hand down to gently press at it making both of you groan at the same time, yours sounded more like whimpering than his did. His moans were very different from the first time you heard them.

The first time, they were like yours. Whimpers, begging moans, small sobs as if it was his first time getting head and he just couldn’t get enough of it nor could he take it but now you were the one sounding like that with all of those feelings inside of you as he groaned and whispered filthiness into your ear calling you all types of things that just made you squeeze him tighter.

“Armin please…!” You whined louder hoping to get his attention and get him to understand that you really couldn’t hold it. Even without your fingers on your clit, you were still going to cum and you were trying your absolute hardest to hold it inside but your bubble was getting ready to burst “I swear to god, if you cum this video is going all over instagram.” Your heart stopped at his words and you let the tears fall onto your cheeks that already had dried tears on them.

You really wanted to try and hold it in but you just couldn’t. His threat must’ve turned you on more because you squeezed around his cock tighter watching in the camera as you came with a yell and Armin’s hold on your neck released and he allowed you to fall forward onto the couch.

His silence haunted you and the way his thrusts slowed made you even more terrified of what he was about to do. You breathed heavily as you looked up watching as Armin reached over and grabbed his phone “Don’t get too comfortable, we’re goin’ again baby.” He spoke and you almost smiled but when you remembered what you had just done and the things he probably was planning, you stopped yourself.

A sob escaped your throat at the thought "Keep crying, all it's doing is making me wanna fuck you more." Armin said and you could practically hear the grin on his face and you wished you could wipe it off with a kiss.

That night you and Armin went at it like fucking rabbits but he never said anything more of his threat. He never told you if he did it or not and you never saw anything on his instagram so you assumed he didn’t. The thought of him showing connie, eren and those other boys crossed your mind but they never said anything, no one did so he probably didn’t. Those fuckers couldn’t keep their mouths shut to save their lives but maybe they would if Armin told them that.

Though, it didn’t matter if he did or if he didn’t because you still would be sat on his lap all pretty as he smoked with Eren and connie like you were right now.

Armin’s hand was planted on your ass as you turned the lighter on watching as the fire erupted from the lighter before moving it toward the blunt that was in between the blonde’s lips just waiting for you. You felt the stares of the other two guys on you but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

Only Armin mattered and being his good girl mattered most of all. He wasn’t a good boy so someone had to be the good one. Armin inhaled before taking the blunt from his lips and blwoing the smoke out of his mouth making a ‘O’ with the smoke and your face fitting perfectly in the gap. You smiled at the trick that he often did “That’s my good girl.” Armin said with a grin on his face before passing the blunt to Eren who sat beside him.

Armin put out the lighter fire with the tips of his fingers as Eren and Connie laughed a bit to themselves at how you seemed to love his nickname for you and you really did. It made your day everytime he called you that and it may have been sad, pathetic or whatever those two said behind your back but you didn’t give a single shit.

You were Armin’s good girl and that’s all that mattered to you no matter what anyone said.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Bound to Apologise

Summary: Aemond upsets his wife and forms a punishment fit for a Prince, feat. subby!Aemond | Word Count: 5.6k | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: subby!Aemond x wife!reader, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a belt as bondage, orgasm denial, breeding kink I guess, Aemond blueballs Targaryen

When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion and when the opportunity should present itself, he has quite the silver tongue. He is a man who is sure of himself in identity, fiercely proud of his Targaryen ancestry, his skills with the sword and his deep and well-founded knowledge of history and philosophy, a fact he rivals smugly against his older brother at any occasion he is able.

 It is not as if Aegon cares much for rivalries of the mind. No, Aegon’s knowledge that is worthy of bragging in his mind is that of the flesh, and he makes sure to flaunt such knowledge in Aemond’s face at any chance.

 That is until Aemond took a wife.

 It had been almost half a year since Aemond was wed to his sweet wife in the Sept. An arranged affair, of course, and the two had scarcely seen one another beforehand, so even now he remembered the way he held his hands behind his back, wound tight with nerves, wondering what kind of person she was. It felt wrong to be tied so intimately and indefinitely to another person without really truly knowing them.

 She had smiled sweetly on that day, kissed him softly once their vows were exchanged, a faint blush at her cheeks while standing before her now husband. The wife of Aemond Targaryen. It felt so final, and she could not help the fluttering in her stomach.

 Aemond on the other hand had barely cracked a smile, simply kissed her, as he was duty-bound to do, and said his vows. She was pretty, yes. But he almost felt bad. What did this woman, illuminated so softly by the warm rays of light, have to gain by marriage to someone she surely found repulsive? Aemond hadn’t missed the various hushed conversations his mother had with Otto, the door cracked slightly ajar.

 He had a reputation amongst the ladies. Some desired him purely for his title and placing their family name on a high podium, their future children into the bargain. Some were repulsed by his fiery temper, those long, hard looks he gave everyone. And perhaps most notably, they were frightened of the One-Eyed Prince, on this moniker alone. ‘Aemond One-Eye would never find a wife’.

 Despite the incident being several years ago, it still raised its ugly head every now and then, in the form of self-consciousness, hushed female whispers and side-glances throughout the Keep. Most Lords and Ladies appreciated his skills from afar, never treading that delicate path in between that would bring them closer to him, which is precisely why it was difficult to even court a woman. Nevermind marriage.

 And yet, when his new wife had looked upon him at their wedding feast, she’d given him a sweet smile, looked deeply into his good eye and showed no signs of repulsion. It confused him for a moment. Was she making a mockery of him? By pretending not to be afraid or repelled by him on purpose? Hiding what she truly felt inside. Holding the bile in her throat at the thought of consummation? He blamed her flush on her face on the two cups of wine she had consumed.

 He was immensely relieved to have been proven wrong.

 Once the chamber doors were closed, she was clearly nervous, as any young maiden would be on her wedding night. With every aching second she removed the pins from her hair, Aemond stood before the fireplace, his heart hammering in his chest with nerves. He didn’t want to have to bare his soul to her. He didn’t know her. And the thought of forcing such a delicate little thing to gaze upon his affliction, watching her face contort into one of disgust, was eating away at his insides, his insecurities feeding on the buzz of the wine.

 She looked so pure and gentle in her off-white, thin chemise, leaving extremely little to the imagination. And with her hair down, waved from the braids, she looked positively mythical.

 Aemond swallowed and began to unclasp his doublet. She must have seen his true feelings beneath his poorly-hidden expression, because she’d stopped before him, a small hand laid delicately on his arm. A silent confirmation, that she was just as nervous as he was.

 “I do not wish to frighten you, my lady”

 Her heart could have broken, but instead it merely shuddered with his words.

 “Do you believe you frighten me?” she asked.

 Aemond’s silence had confirmed it.

 “You are my husband. And I, your wife. You may show me as much of yourself as you deem comfortable and I will not judge”

 Though brief, her comforting words gave him the confidence to consummate their marriage. At first it was clumsy, the way their lips had pressed against one another, and the clamouring at her body, laid entirely bare for him to feast upon. As with any wedding night, there was some discomfort, both for her and him, but for different reasons.

 But he was gentle, which surprised her and elated her in equal measure. And the sting of the loss of the maidenhead gave way to blooming pleasure, alongside something else. Perhaps a closeness that neither of them expected to have after just a few hours of knowing one another. But she hadn’t shied away from him, as he expected her to. On occasion during the act, she held his face so softly he trembled, struggling to fathom that this woman wanted him.

 They had left it only an hour before he was inside her again, where he now found sanctuary in her acceptance of him.

 In the moons that had passed since then, she had been his haven. His escape. She was so good to him, accepting of his desire to take his time in showing himself to her.

 Three moons after their wedding night, he finally pulls off his eyepatch, after a particularly long evening of lovemaking. She was laid next to him, the bed sheets tucked around her chest. Her lips parted when she saw what he’d been hiding underneath his eyepatch all this time, and she felt an undeniable closeness to him that was not there before.

 His scar felt raised beneath the gentleness of her fingers, but it was a look of sheer wonder, watching the way the sapphire that replaced his eye adopted the amber glow of the candles.

 Aemond felt his heart thunder and his cock get hard, when all she asked was for him to fuck her again.

 And he did with a new-found enthusiasm, a warm feeling blossomed in his chest, holding her form beneath him and fucking her relentlessly into the mattress, so hard that the bedframe struggled. He moaned loudly, giving her his seed and praying that it took, so that he could see his precious wife grow round with his child.

 It took him an entire moon to figure out that he not only respected her, but had come to love her.

 His wife, shy and timid perhaps at first, had become rather a force to be reckoned with. Their intimacy with one another had awakened something not only in her, but in him as well. At first, he delighted in having power and dominance over her, being quite a lot taller and broad, which he was wholly proud to have on display in the comfort of their chambers. He loved every little one of her whines and moans, drawing peak after devastating peak from her until she quivered in his touch.

 It had become a nightly routine. Sometimes several times in one night.

 Who would have thought that Aemond Targaryen, every now and then, enjoyed having such power taken away sometimes.

 It had started innocently enough. After so many moons being married and proving their love to one another every night, his sweet wife had sought for some variety and instead had clambered on top of him and sank on his cock, guiding the pace herself. Her hands steadied on his chest for leverage, her backside smacking against his thighs with every rough thrust of herself onto him.

 Alongside the dizzying feeling of watching his cock disappear into her cunt over and over, reaching new places in this new position, he found being held down exhilarating. Dare he say, even pleasurable. It made something wind tight as a bowstring in his gut.

 It seemed like she noticed this, as a lazy smirk graced her face.

 Ever since then they had experimented with that sensation. The feeling of one partner having full control, being held down, even tied sometimes. It was something reserved solely for them, behind their chamber doors. In the morning, when they break their fast with his family, he is once again the stone-faced, stoic Aemond Targaryen.

 Although it does not stop her from shooting knowing grins in his direction on the odd occasion, which makes his cheeks go a very fair pink, the tips of his ears burn and his breeches get inexplicably tighter.

 He enjoys this new side to his wife. It was buried deep, but now that he sees it, it never fails to surprise him.

 Which brings him to this moment. The moment when he knows he has said or done something to irk her.

 Her sister had arrived at the Red Keep alongside her father to visit her for a few days. Unlike his dear wife, her sister was still young and unmarried, and unbearably innocent. As soon as Aegon had laid his eyes on her little sister, his eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he’d seen a shiny new version of his favourite toy, but one that was actually available.

 He wasn’t even deterred by the firm look she’d given him.

 She and her sister walked arm in arm to the main hall, where they would dine all together that evening. Her sister spoke excitedly, happy to be brought to the Red Keep for the first time and to be reunited with her beloved eldest sibling.

 Aemond and Aegon were chatting idly at the table when they’d arrived, her sister went to one side of the table to be sat next to their father. The two brothers, who usually were not so well-acquainted and chatting in such a friendly manner, were so engrossed in their conversation and their cups, that they barely acknowledged her presence.

 All the better that Aemond’s back was to her as well.

 “She is a lovely looking girl, but it is a shame she is so terribly dim-witted” Aegon chuckled, “A family trait, I presume?”

 Aemond, dizzy from the effects of his wine, chuckled.

 “Perhaps”

 She’d bitten her cheek in frustration. Was he so deep in his cups that he actually found Aegon funny? Not only that, but had humoured him in insulting not only her sister’s intelligence, but his own wife’s as well.

 She pulled her chair out beside him loudly, and Aemond went red and jumped in surprise, dread prickled all over his skin. She gave him a mischievous, knowing smile as she sat, “Husband” is all she greeted him with.

 Aegon, who found the entire situation hilarious, had left him with that and as Aemond took his seat next to his wife, straight-backed and instantly sober, he bit his lips several times throughout the evening. She didn’t spare him a single word nor glance, unless he spoke to her directly, in which she forced a pleasant enough smile to her face and gave him one word answers. Playing the pliant little wife, while at the same time letting him know that he would not get off so easily.

 She thought, once, that she may have taken her retribution a bit too far. But it was fun if nothing else, to watch how frustrated Aemond got.

 She did not lay with him that night, nor the night after. Nor the night after that.

 When her sister and father departed King’s Landing, he thought this might be the reprieve. But he was wrong.

 It had been a full week since he had touched his wife intimately, not because he didn’t want to, he’d tried a fair few times. But every time, she had dismissed him with that playful smirk, the same one she had when she’d clambered atop his lap for the first time. And though her outfits and mannerisms remained the same as always, after being denied the pleasure of his flesh to hers for so long, every sway of her hips, every glint of her eyes and every movement of her hands had his breeches pathetically tight.

 She knew what she was doing as well, the little tease.

 He was aching. And it became too much. Not only did she deprive him of her sweet, tight cunny. She barely spoke to him. And the silence and barely-contained need to be inside her, was all too much to bear.

 She was in their chambers, sat before the fire, a large tome open in her lap and when she’d heard the chamber doors shut, her eyes had met that of an extremely pent up husband.

 But instead of greeting him, she bit back a smile and turned back to her book.

 That little-

 “Wife” he greeted through gritted teeth.

 “Husband”

 She didn’t fool him with the sweetness of her voice.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, half-desperate and half-irritated as he crossed the room to sit opposite her.

 “Reading, my love. So that I may grow to have acceptable intelligence”

 His nostrils flare in annoyance, and yet he can’t deny the way she acts has a profound effect on him, after a week of not being able to have her, he’s desperate for anything. Even just the brushing of her hand, he is convinced, would make him spill in his breeches.

 “You know as well as I that is not what I meant”

 She slowly closes the book, righting to stand in front of him, her eyes trickling over his form. She knows him well now. Knows how underneath this cold exterior he offers up to her, is a desperate man underneath, yearning for a taste of her affections. His body sparks up at her hungry eyes over him.

 “Then I do not know what you mean, husband” she replies, barely able to stop the spread of her smile, “You shall have to elaborate”

 His hands form tight fists. She’s right there, ripe for the taking, his sweet wife. How easy would it be to sling her over his shoulder and take her right there on the bed, still dressed in her finery, with her skirts rucked up over her hips.

 “I mean-” he starts, “-you and I have not laid together for the better part of a week”

 She cocks her head, “Oh? Is that so?” she answers sweetly, “Forgive me, I hadn’t noticed”

 He’s stunned into a sort of shocked silence, mouth slightly open, but without the headspace to form a reply. His wife pretended to busy herself with other things, placing the book back and dusting the covers, something she knew would get him riled up.

 “What is this game, wife”

 When she turns to him with that faux-innocence smile on her face, unable to hide how amused she is at how outwardly her husband is showing his frustration, Aemond can feel his limbs go numb.

 “I do not believe you are in any position to accuse me of anything, husband” she counters, crossing the room in deliberately small steps, “In fact, I do believe I am owed an apology of sorts”

 Her brow twitches slightly. She knows. She knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

 As much as he tries to ignore the way her attitude makes his breeches get tighter, all of his blood goes straight below his waistline.

 “But I can see, in your true Targaryen male nature, that you will not apologise…with words that is” she says, a wider smile gracing her face. An almost mischievous one.

 Aemond swallows thickly.

 He clears his throat, blinking a few times at what she just said, “Perhaps…you might enlighten me on how I can make amends”

 Got you.

 “Give me your belt” she instructs.

 It’s borderline pathetic, the speed in which he tries to unbuckle it from his doublet and his fingers fumble with the silver, the embarrassment evident in the way it clinks clumsily. He pulls it through the loops and extends the leather towards his wife. She lets his hand hang there for a moment, as if to extend his internal torment, before she takes it, her fingers slipping over the roughened edges.

 “Take off your clothes, leave your breeches on” her voice is clipped and deadly serious, “then get on the bed”

 She watched from the foot of the bed as he did, twisting the belt in her hands as she regarded him. Saw the way his breath had hitched as she instructed him to do something and the way his pupils swallowed the violet of his eye. He was desperate. And the longer she went without saying or doing anything, the more the excitement and anticipation was starting to build in his core.

 “My dear husband” she says, still fully clothed but clambering onto the bed beside him, “You have wronged me in a manner most unbefitting”

 Her voice was low, the same way it would be when they were alone together, coupling.

 Gently she pulls both his wrists together, tying them first before raising them to the bed frame, sliding the leather through the buckle and pulling his skin flush to it. She pulls on it a few times, to make sure it is secure. Smiling down at him when she confirms he is not able to move.

 His chest moves hurriedly, a warm, fluttering expectancy erupts in his gut.

 “And all you have been able to think about is our coupling, or rather lack of” she smirks, pulling a large pin from her hair so it falls around her shoulders. Looking up at his dear wife from this angle, in this position, will never cease to be thrilling.

 Her small fingers slide under his eyepatch, depositing it on the bedside, so that she may see all of him.

 He would never ever reveal beyond their chambers how he enjoys to see her, eyes half-shut looking down at him, exerting her own version of dominance over him. And he was eternally grateful that she never told a soul either. It would embarrass him beyond measure. He could only stand to be embarrassed in front of her.

 Even though she was very much in charge, she did so in her own feminine way. Used her body differently, her words even.

 He doesn’t think he will ever tire of it.

 “Would you like to fuck me, husband” she asks low, nudging his knees apart so that she can kneel between them. It doesn’t fail to set his blood alight, the way she says such vulgar things…and make it sound so right.

 As her fingers begin to undo his breeches, his hips move and so do his hands against the bed frame. It sets that grin on her face again.

 “Yes, I do…I have missed you”

 Her fingers start to peel his breeches from his hips, exposing the pale skin underneath, and he almost sighs in relief to feel her soft hands on his bare skin.

 She cocks her head, looking at him, “What makes you think I will let you fuck me?”

 A sort of dread…disappointment  pools in his stomach, but alongside that, arousal. He cannot tell if she is serious or merely teasing him, and it is the in-between of not knowing that makes his head feel as if there is cotton stuffed into it instead of thoughts.

 “Fucking is a reward” she starts, “and you have not been good”

 Once his breeches are off, or at least down to his toned thighs, enough where she can see his manhood, aching and swollen against his taut abdomen, hardened from his years of training with the sword. The tip is flushed, the same colour as his lips, with a milky arousal leaking from it. She is sure that with one touch, he could simply come undone, and it makes her smirk wickedly.

 “I will forgive you…on one condition”

 Gods, how badly he wants her to just touch him already. With his cock now exposed to them both, her hands so close, it’s borderline unbearable to be teased like this.

 “Anything, please…”

 A flush blossoms on her cheeks. She always did like it when he begged.

 “You must not peak, until I say”

 Aemond almost goes bright red. This is territory that has not been tread before. And yet, he can’t deny the excitement it sends through him, the way the air is instantly knocked out of his lungs, and how his hands tug slightly against the belt.

 He outright moans as her small hand encircles his cock, giving a few languid pumps, squeezing when she gets to the tip, brushing her thumb over the sensitive slit. Now that she has given her order, her demand, all he can seem to think about is his peak, and how hard he is concentrating to not do it too soon.

 “You seem more sensitive than usual, husband” she coos, her other hand placed on his thigh, only barely squeezing, “have you missed me that much?”

 “Yes…” he responds through slightly gritted teeth, unable to take the breathiness out of his tone.

 “Hm” she hums, dipping her head to his waistline, making him suck in a quiet breath, “Let us see if you can be good then”

 She flatters her tongue against the underside of his length, dragging up achingly slow to the slit, her hand still applying pressure as she makes her way up. When she gets to the slit, her eyes meet her husband's.

 There's that damn smile again.

 Aemond shudders a breath, looking into her eyes while she has his cock on her tongue is only spurring him on, so he shuts his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillows. His hands tug at the belt. Wanting morning more than to just run his fingers through her hair.

 "Look at me" she orders.

 When he does, his jaw slackens, cheeks warm as her hot mouth envelops him entirely. Pushing down to take more of him, her hand strokes whatever else she cannot fit. Aemond watches her take him with every slow bob of her head, pushing his cock against her hot throat, warm, wet and inviting.

 If he is good, he may get something else.

 From this angle, her breasts are dangerously close to spilling from her dress, and he watches them move as she continues to suck him, her tongue curled up to press against the prominent vein on the underside. After a week of not having him, she relishes the taste of him. How he smells faintly of sweat and leather, and how badly she wants more of it.

 She plunges her mouth down further, til her lips are against the base and Aemond moans out loudly. His tip lodges the back of her throat, and while well endowed, she has learned to take him as deep as she can, until she softly gags, tightening her throat around him.

 She is testing him. Seeing how far she can push him as she pleasures him with a renewed vigour, humming around him, sending little jolts of pleasure up his spine.

 It was his biggest weakness, taking him into her mouth. And to be so clearly pleased to do it as well. Merely watching the way his length disappears between her plush lips is nothing short of heavenly.

 He bets her cunny is wet from this alone.

 It very nearly makes him peak, those sparks are there most certainly. Especially the way her throat contracts around him.

 But he holds back the reins. For now.

 She pulls off him with a soft, wet pop, making a show of licking her lips to taste his precum.

 "You are blushing, my love" she says, and he knows even without looking she is smirking again.

 "Please…" he murmurs, "...do not tease me any longer"

 She cocks her head again, pretending to not know what he means.

 "Is my mouth inadequate?"

 He shakes his head quickly, feeling his hair begin to stick to his nape with the effort of holding back his peak.

 "No-no…I just need you"

 "Need what" she grins, moving to straddle him.

 Aemond's eye widens here. Her dress is fanned out, and underneath he feels her bare form pressed against his aching cock.

 The vixen had not had small clothes on this entire time.

 And after using her mouth to pleasure him, she was soaked.

 It was most like her. She always did everything with purpose. Always one step ahead.

 She smiles when she sees it click in his mind and she moves her hips, dragging her slick over his length, making his eye flutter.

 "Say it"

 He swallows, tugging against the belt. He half thinks of requesting to touch her. But he knows she would not allow it.

 "I need to be inside you"

 She raises her eyebrows.

 "Please" he finishes.

 She pulls the front of her dress up, to give him a good view of her wet cunny, spreading her slick over him and he almost moans at just that. It's a sight to behold. The feeling…even more indescribable.

 "My poor, silly husband" she coos, taking his length in her hand, using her palm to coat the entirety with her arousal, "...you came here to say something. Now is the time"

 She raises her hips, his tip not even touching her, but the anticipation of it is too much. Aemond, almost subconsciously, bucks his hips up. Only to be met with her pushing him back down.

 "Stay still" she says firmly, "or you will not fuck me at all"

 His chest moves quickly, clenching his fists, his whole body feeling unbearably hot.

 She waits, with that glint in her eye. She really would do it. She would clamber off him and not fuck him, just for the satisfaction that she knew he wanted her, and that it had been denied.

 "I…apologise…" he mutters quietly.

 She doesn't move.

 "For?"

 He grunts, frustrated. Too busy thinking of him sliding through her folds, nestled in her cunny.

 "For saying such things about you…"

 She tuts, with an amused grin, "We shall test your loyalty, husband. Remember…you need my permission"

 Whatever Aemond was going to say is stuck in his throat as she sinks on him, enveloping him entirely in her slick heat. She does it slowly, so that he might feel every inch of her, every ridge inside. And when her backside sits on his thighs, moving her hips side to side, his tip nudges her sweet spot, the curve of his long, delicious length finding it effortlessly.

 He has to briefly close his eye, not look at her, so that he doesn't get too overwhelmed. After a week of not having her, she feels so perfectly tight, so much so it feels as if her cunt is milking him already. He cannot get too tied up in the feeling, lest he lose her forgiveness.

 The sound he lets out when she begins to move is almost pained, one that feels like it takes all his strength from his muscles.

 He looks up at her, her hair cascading over her shoulders with every shallow thrust inside, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks from the effort of it. He can feel her arousal weeping out of her, coating his length and smacking against the base, that alongside his barely-contained moans.

 Her hands trail up his bare torso and he can feel gooseflesh erupt in the path she leaves. Her soft palms trace the expanse of his chest, and she doesn’t miss the way his stomach muscles tense up as she hastens her pace while she touches him. It’s only when her fingers apply a feather-like touch against his nipples that she finally gets a breathy moan from him.

 It only adds more fuel to her fire.

 Every touch, as small as they are, with how pent up Aemond had been, is hurtling him towards that edge. He can feel every inch of her perfect insides, squeezing him as she nears even herself. His stomach does flips, a familiar flutter getting stronger inside.

 “Please…wife…” she barely manages to say.

 She smiles, her chest moving quickly with the effort of their lovemaking. Her thighs ache in the most wonderful way, her cunt stretching around his girth, the tip kissing her end, filling her so deliciously.

 “Please what”

 “I want to touch you…please” he begs, his fists still tight and pressed against the bed frame.

 He takes a much needed breath when she slows down, merely circling her hips against his pelvis instead.

 “Are you close, my love?” she asks sweetly, leaning up to grasp the belt in one hand.

 Aemond nods, not trusting his own voice, lest it betray the inner turmoil inside. But she sees it. She doesn’t miss a thing.

 She cocks her head, half of her wants to reprimand him for not using his words to reply to her. But the other half feels how his cock throbs inside her, aching for completion, to paint her walls with his spend.

 “Very well” she smirks, undoing his bondage, “but you may only touch me here”

 She guides his now free hands to her clothed hips, keeping hers on top to make it clear how serious she is. Even now, merely touching her, through clothes it doesn't matter, it’s like some kind of torture.

 He grabs her hips tightly and backs himself up against the pillow in a half-sitting position, causing his length to press up inside her, he doesn’t miss the small gasp she emits. She’s close as well, he can tell.

 He fucks up into her with renewed passion, and her head tilts back, her lips parted only slightly to allow her quiet but wanton moans to slip out. Her sounds are like a reward. But he knows he is still denied the greatest one of all. One that seems more and more difficult to hold back the tighter she clenches around him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his wrists. There was something exciting about her being fully clothes while he fucked her. It almost felt forbidden. But exciting all the same.

 He can feel her slowly losing her resolve as he pounds harshly into her, as if he is letting out all his frustrations.

 “-Fuck…Aemond…” she breathes, “-Don’t stop-”

 His breath comes in hurried pants, wanting her to feel good but at the same time holding himself back. He can feel the pressure inside, fit to burst at any moment.

 “My perfect wife…”

 “-Aemond, I’m close-”

 She pulls up the front of her dress, her small slender fingers diving between her legs to apply pressure to her pearl, and she inadvertently tightens around him at the combined pleasure.

 He is not sure if he can last much longer. Forgiveness be damned, he wants to see his spend leak from her.

 “My love, I-”

 She looks down at him, a lazy, fucked-out smile on her face, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead.

 “-Yes, husband…fuck your heir into me…”

 His eye widens at the vulgarity, but his throat tightens at the challenge and he slams so deep inside her with a shocking collection of desperate thrusts. She continues to circle her slick over her bud until the buzz floods into her limbs with a choked cry, her body trembling in the bruising hold he has of her hips.

 He fucks her all the way through it, now that he has been given the permission he so desired, he craves it like hunger. It feels like it takes everything out of him, the wind surely knocked from his lungs, as he finally stills inside her, feeling the warm, familiar flood of his spend deep against her womb, completely emptying himself until he aches.

 Aemond never lets up on his grip, holding her tightly to ensure she has all of it, and he gives a few additional shallow thrusts that make her cry out, hoping his seed will take and she will grow round with child for him. The thought alone makes him want to keep her in their chambers all day if he has to.

 Their eyes meet, the only sound is both of their breathing. Her own eyes flicker from his seeing one, to the sapphire, and a soft, contented smile, not the same mischievous one as earlier, makes its way to her face. It encourages him to do the same.

 “I could stay in your perfect cunt forever…” he breathes, his chest moving steadily.

 She hums a laugh. It is certainly something he would say.

 “Am I forgiven?” he asks, eyebrows moved only slightly, like he is expecting a witty response.

 His wife pretends to think, her fingers touched to her lips. And with his softening cock still nestled inside her, she leans forward to lay a tender kiss on her husband, her delicate, soft lips pressed so gently to his, in a manner that contradicts the sensuality of what they had just done.

 When she breaks, her forehead pressed against his and her hand cupping his face, she wrinkles her nose playfully.

 “I shall think about it”

 When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion. With not a soft bone in his body.

 Who would have thought, that sometimes, he enjoyed letting that persona slip, just for a moment.

 But only ever with her.

dividers by @firefly-graphics​

General Taglist:  @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist:  @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes​ @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red​ @bellaisasleep​ @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

[amiableness]

At Last

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj's cousin comes to town and attempts to get with y/n, pissing off jj in the process.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: dean turns out to be an ass, pet names (baby & sweetheart), oral (m & f), dirty talk, language, and p in v {there might be more, let me know!}

a/n💌: she's here! thank you for all your patience while i worked on this fic, hit some writers block while working on it. some of the smut might be familiar if you've read some of my old work, it's because i copied it from gentle. i will be deleting that fic and 'replacing' it with this one!

JJ Maybank couldn’t remember his childhood without Dean Maybank in it. There wasn’t a time he could recall when the nearly identical blonde wasn’t by his side. From diapers to teens, both boys spent most of their time together. Separated by only two months, the boys were practically brothers. There were mistaken for siblings nearly everywhere they went. Whenever one went, the other one was sure to follow. Their moms used to pretend they couldn’t tell the boys apart when they were little, sending both boys into a fit of giggles as they desperately tried to get their moms to remember their sons.

He was twelve when his mom left, and everything fell apart instantly. Luke turned to bottles upon bottles of alcohol to soothe the ache she left in her wake, and JJ was forced to grow up quickly. Andrew and Cecelia Maybank weren’t far behind, taking Dean with them. JJ never knew why his mom left or why his aunt and uncle followed him closely behind. But he was left alone to wonder for many nights why he was left behind.

JJ had years of practice burying the hurt and anger he felt, but as he sits across from his cousin at a table of The Wreck, he can feel the anger simmering. He’s not particularly fond of his cousin being back in town, but that’s not getting under his skin. It’s the fact that Dean has been eyeing you for the past twenty minutes.

“Wait, how long since you have been here?” Cleo asks Dean, attempting to break some awkward silence between JJ and him. Cleo slides into her chair next to Pope while she sends a welcoming smile to Dean, who sits across from Pope.

“Been a while, about seven years now.” Dean Maybank answers with a soft smile. He’s got the same blonde hair as JJ, but he keeps it a lot shorter and has dark blue eyes. They look like they could be twins.

“No wonder I haven’t met you then; I haven’t been around long.” Cleo supplies as Pope tosses his arm over her shoulder and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And Y/n?” Dean asks as he glances back over at you as you laugh with Kiara and Sarah while waiting for your order. Cleo’s lips part a little, and she spares a glance over at JJ, who has pulled his attention away from his phone at the mention of your name. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his body is tense as he stares down at his cousin. Dean doesn’t notice, his eyes glancing back at you.

“She joined the group about six years ago.” John B answers just as the three of you walk over with full hands. John B is sitting next to Dean, saving a spot for Sarah. From the look his best friend is giving him, he’s glad he sat next to Dean.

“Kiara, I love this place, but it’s so slow when you aren’t working here.” Sarah sighed as all the plates were set down and passed around. There’s a rumble of agreement at the table, and Kiara laughs loudly before sitting beside Sarah.

You slip into your spot between Cleo and JJ. JJ would never admit it out loud, but having you fall into the seat next to him and speak softly to only him sends a spark of possessiveness. He loves it when your attention is only on him.

“I got us a milkshake to share,” He watches as you rip the wrapper off the straw before pausing, eyes darting between the straw in your hand and the milkshake sitting in front of you. “They only gave us one; I’ll go grab-”

“We can share.” He grabs the straw from your hands before plunging it into the chocolate shake between you and taking a quick sip. You flush, realizing that you both will be sharing a straw. This wouldn’t bother you in any other case, but it’s JJ. You wouldn’t have thought twice about it if it had been anyone else. But something about him fills your stomach with that giddy feeling that makes you almost jittery with nerves.

His grip is still on the straw as he gives you a slight nod to take a sip. Your cheeks flush when you realize that he’s holding the drink, expecting you to take a sip like this. You lean forward, taking a tentative sip, ignoring how JJ watches you so closely. Having his eyes on you sets off that flurry of butterflies again.

“So cute, guys.” John B teases, making a heart with his hands, and your cheeks burn. You fight the urge to toss a fry at him. John B was notorious for calling out any moments you shared with JJ, which always left a hot flush on your body. Were your feelings for him that obvious? Did JJ know?

You peek over at JJ, who is flipping his best friend off.

The table is quickly drawn back into the conversation as your friends try and get to know Dean more. JJ stays quiet, instead choosing to eat and mutter things to you occasionally. You can’t help but be curious about why he avoids talking to his cousin. John B said that they used to be close, but from how JJ is acting now, you can’t help but wonder what happened.

“Y/n isn’t much of a surfer either.” Your ears perk up at the mention of your name. Sarah is giving you a pointed look indicating that you totally missed out on something.

“I was saying I’m not a big surfer,” Dean supplies at your confused expression. “Maybe we could do something else so everyone heads out to surf later.” The soft smile he sends your way makes your cheeks flush.

You open your mouth to answer, but JJ cuts you off.

“You used to surf all the time.” JJ’s tone is flat, surprising you that he finally decided to speak during this lunch. He had spent the last hour not saying a word to Dean. You glance over at him to see he’s sending an unimpressed look toward his cousin.

“Used to. Not anymore.” Dean shrugs, and you can tell he feels a little unsure around JJ, and you don’t blame him. If JJ was looking at you the way he was looking at Dean, you would feel a bit unwelcome too.

Ever the people pleaser, you send a smile over at Dean. “I would love that, Dean.”

“Dean Maybank is cute.” Sarah breathes out dramatically once all four of you are alone in her room. The boys are all at the Chateau; Cleo thought this might help JJ warm up to Dean more. You highly doubted it.

Your cheeks flush when you realize Sarah is directing this comment at you. You give a little shrug as you sit on the edge of her bed.

“Are you calling JJ cute then? Because they look like brothers.” Cleo teases as she pulls her bikini out of her bag. In front of the mirror, Kiara braided tiny pieces of her hair, laughing lightly at Cleo’s comment.

“Is that what we’re really gonna talk about right now?” You ask, feeling apprehensive about comparing the two. There’s no way you wanted to compare the two, mainly because you knew that JJ would always come out on top in your eyes.

“Yes! He seems pretty damn interested in you.”

“Maybe, but Dean isn’t the Maybank she wants.” Kiara sings songs, and your mouth parts as your sputter out a reply, but you can’t seem to deny it.

“I-no! JJ and I are just friends; we always will be.” You wanted to be sick saying these words.

“Are you serious? He looked ready to kill Dean when he asked you out.” Kiara glanced over her shoulder at you making your cheeks burn.

“He did not ask me out.”

“He made a move for sure,” Cleo called as she headed towards Sarah’s bathroom with her bikini. A sigh passed your lips just as the door clicked shut.

“Nothing is gonna happen whether he made a move or not.”

“Why not?” Sarah asked, tossing herself on her bed next to you.”

“I just-it feel wrong.”

“Because it’s not JJ,” Kiara states this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as she finishes her hair and turns to face you. Sarah and Kiara nearly scream at the expression on your face, giving you away.

Maybe it was selfish, but JJ had been hoping you had forgotten about agreeing to spend time with Dean while the group went surfing. But here he was, watching the two of you walking up the beach and away from the group. Surfing with his friends meant you would be sat higher up on the beach immersed in one of the many romance books you owned. 

Not this time. He watched as you walked away, this time as his cousin held your bag for you.

“JJ, you comin’ or what?” John B hollered. JJ sighed and headed towards the beach, aware that this was the first time in his life that he did not want to go surfing.

“It’s not a date, man; quit pouting.” His best friend mumbled, clapping JJ on the shoulder. The blond sent him an irritated look.

“But he damn well wants it to be,” The thought made JJ’s stomach tighten with discomfort. “She could want it to be.”

“I doubt it,” John B shook his head in disagreement. All the different times he had caught Y/n or JJ pining after each other had proved otherwise. But that wasn’t his place to tell. “Listen, if you like Y/n, you need to tell her. I’m not saying she’s gonna end up with Dean, but I know she won’t be single forever.”

“It’s complicated,” JJ grumbles as he rakes his hand through his hair. He needs a haircut but refuses to get one after he overhears you say you like long hair on guys. Maybe that makes him pathetic, but so be it.

“It’s really not; you’re just making it that way by avoiding telling her.”

“John B, fuck off,” JJ snaps, but his best friend knows not to take offense. “Telling her how I feel could mean losing her as my best friend, and that’s not worth it.”

“But what if telling her means you get her as your girlfriend and best friend?” John B’s words cause his stomach to flip at the thought.

“Wishful thinking, man.”

Your time with Dean was going well, and you were thrilled that you got on with him so quickly. Part of you wanted to ask, but you were scared of making a fool out of yourself if he told you no. Not that you were hoping it was; you just genuinely weren’t sure how Dean viewed this hangout.

He had taken you to a little ice cream shop, one that he said his mom used to bring him and JJ to all the time. Your heart had squeezed in your chest at the reminder that you weren’t there to watch him surf, one of your favorite pastimes. Quickly reminding yourself to enjoy the present moment, it was fair to Dean if your mind was caught up somewhere else.

“This is the best ice cream I’ve ever had; how did I not know about this place?” A quick moan of appreciation slips pasts your lips as you bite, proving your statement true. Dean laughs at your reaction, thrilled to see you enjoying one of his favorite places so much. The last time he was here was with his mom and JJ to have a quick treat after dinner. They left two days after that.

“One of the best places in OBX, hands down,” He replies, studying you with a soft fondness that you are oblivious to. Your entire focus was on stirring your ice cream to make it nice and smooth.

“Totally out of my comfort zone today,” You confess as you take another bite of the cotton candy ice cream. But the soft pink color was so pretty you just couldn’t resist. “JJ and I usually share mint chips.” Dean drops his eyes down to his ice cream at the mention of his cousin. 

“Can I ask you something?” He finally asks, and you quietly hum to tell him to go on.

“Are you and JJ..?” He trails off, unsure if he should continue his question by the look on your face. You place your spoon in your bowl and sigh.

“We’re just friends,” By the shrug of your shoulders and the way you naw on your bottom lip, Dean can tell you aren’t a man of this.

“And you’re alright with that?” He asks, hoping for an answer that could turn this into a date between you.

“I-uh-” You clear your throat and glance at the window towards the ocean, hoping to catch a glance of JJ. To no avail. “I’ve liked him for years, but I’m pretty sure he isn’t interested, so we’re just friends.”

Dean gives you an understanding look, but inside, he’s thrilled about your answer. You weren’t JJ’s.

It had been a couple of weeks of hanging out with Dean: trips to the beach, talking about books, getting ice cream, and movie marathons. You knew how this looked, but it was purely just as friends. You knew that, and Dean knew that. Or so you thought.

“So let me get this straight, you guys have been going on dates pretty much but just as friends?” Cleo asked, totally confused by what was happening between you and Dean.

“Yes, just friends,” You clarified as you attempted to fix your hair in a way you liked for tonight’s party.

“He brought you flowers this morning.” She deadpanned, glancing over at the bouquet of pink poppies on your bedside table. They were placed next to a picture of you and JJ, making Cleo snort quietly.

“He was just being nice,” You sounded exasperated, and Cleo wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or her nitpicking. “Nothing is going on.”

“Maybe for you! He’s clearly interested; he’s been taking you on dates -“You open your mouth to cut her off. “Yes - dates, all week. He’s interested.”

“I thought you were team Dean.” Your hair fell from your hands as you gave up on making the perfect bun; it just wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“That was Sarah. I’m team whoever makes you happy.”

“So, would you be happy if I went out with Dean?” You nibbled on your bottom lip as you waited for her response. Her eyebrows rose, and she stared at you for a second.

“Thought you were just friends.”

“We are! I just-“You paused, taking in a big breath of air and holding it for a second. “I don’t wanna miss a chance with a great guy because JJ doesn’t return my feelings. I can’t hold out hope forever.”

“First party of the summer, Dean! You excited?” John B asks as he presses a beer into Dean’s awaiting palm.

“It’s not the first party of the season,” JJ grumbles, and you shoot him a look, hoping he can control his anger towards his cousin for the night and enjoy the party.

“The first one he’s been to; he’s been too busy with our Y/n here.” John B taunts, sending you a wink when he sees you looking flushed. JJ feels sick. Are you blushing at the thought of being with Dean? Have you actually been going on dates with him all this time?

“Baby, leave them alone,” Sarah admonishes, giving a light slap to his arm. He lets out a laugh and drops his arm over her shoulder, leading her in the direction of the house.

An awkward silence falls over the three of you. Pope, Kiara, and Cleo had already headed inside to get drinks, and you were now desperately wishing JJ had too. Anything would be better than the way he is currently glaring at Dean for standing too close to you.

“Want a drink?” Dean leans to whisper in your ear, and you send him a grateful smile.

“Yes, please,” You smile up at him, watching him for a second longer as he slips through the crowd. JJ clearing his throat is what brings your attention away from him.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing with him?” He asks, taking a step towards you. 

“We walked here together, and I-”

“No. What’s up with you spending so much time with him? I’ve hardly seen you in the last few weeks.” He steps closer and closer until the two of you are standing so close you can count all the freckles on his nose.

“We’ve been hanging out.” You supply, not wanting to give too much away. It’s not that we’re trying to be secretive, but you knew that JJ had a habit of getting protective over you. Guess what happens when you’re friends with someone for so long.

“Hanging out or going on dates?” His hand pushes the stand of your hair, blowing in the breeze. At the proximity of him, your heart squeezes, and your breath catches.

“Hanging out?” You answer in nearly a whisper, so focused on starting up at him. The heat of his fingers touching your skin feels like you have been branded.

“You don’t sound so sure.” There’s that cocky tone. He can tell you’re flustered by how close he is to you. You’ve always reacted to him this way. It’s moments like these where it doesn’t seem unbelievable to him that you might like him back.

“We’ve been hanging out, but it might be becoming more and-”

“Y/n” At the sound of Dean’s voice, you take a step away, startled. There’s a tone to Dean’s voice that JJ doesn’t like. He sounds possessive, too possessive for a guy who has only met you a couple of weeks ago.

Dean’s eyes flicker between the both of you, quickly picking up on the tension and closeness. In an act of jealousy, he slips his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, something he’s never done before. Your features flash with surprise that JJ quickly notices.

“Have a goodnight, JJ.” Dean bites out before steering you toward the direction of the house.

“I thought you said that you and JJ didn’t have anything going on.”

“We don’t.” You glance up at Dean, who still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder. His jaw is tense, and you feel a flash of discomfort at seeing this new side of him.

“Didn’t look that way. He was close enough to kiss you.” Dean grits out, squeezing your shoulder that makes you wince.

“But he didn’t. I don’t understand-”

“You said that he wasn’t interested. I thought I clarified my intentions when I started taking you out on all these dates.” Your stomach flips, and you glance around at the crowd. None of your friends are nearby.

“I didn’t-“You clear your throat, willing yourself to make your voice come out stronger. His shift in personality has really thrown you off. “I thought we were hanging out. I didn’t realize you thought these past few weeks were dates.”

“They were dates, Y/n. Does John B or Pope ever take you- just you - out for ice cream or to the movies?”

“No, but JJ-”

“Jesus, Y/n! JJ doesn’t view you as a friend. If we’re gonna be dating this summer, I don’t think you should hang out around him.” You were utterly confused. There was never a time when you two were hanging out. Did he act like this or make his intentions about dating you clear. And there was absolutely no way you would give up being around JJ, even if Dean’s attitude hadn’t done a 180.

You were beginning to panic, unsure how to handle his growing anger. 

“Dean!” Your shoulders immediately relaxed at the sound of another Pogues voice. You were sure his name was Noah, and that he was friends with the boys, but other than that, you didn’t really know him. You watched as Dean plastered a smile on his face and greeted his friend. Without warning, you slipped away from Dean and slipped through the crowd towards the bathroom.

Usually, a party like this is just what JJ needed, but his mood was much too sour to enjoy it. Not when you had shown up with Dean and disappeared into this run-down house on the Cut nearly an hour ago. He has tried desperately to shake you from his thoughts. But nothing has worked in the past couple of weeks, so he has spent this entire night pathetically sober and on edge.

John B and Pope had tried to include him in the conversation with other guys from the Cut, but he didn’t have the energy to pretend to be interested. So instead, he sat next to the fire along the group and continuously glanced back at the door as if somehow he could keep an eye on you that way.

Dean’s voice catches his attention and pulls him from his thoughts of you. Dean comes jogging down the steps carrying a beer and quickly finds an open seat amongst the guys. JJ ignores the urge to tell him his seat is taken; it feels too middle school.

“Where is she?” JJ asks, sounding terribly protective, but he can’t help it. He’s sat rigid in his seat, waiting for his cousin’s answer. He wouldn’t have left you alone at that party even for a second if he was with you.

“She wanted to spend some time with the girls.” Dean looks flatly at JJ, both boys growing frustrated with each other. Dean is becoming sick of JJ only acknowledging him when it has to do with you. He doesn’t want JJ’s thoughts to be of you at all. The tension between the two is glaringly apparent to the group, so Pope incessantly glances at the house door for about twenty minutes before JJ incessantly glancing at the house door finally pays off.

There you were.

Standing on the porch with tears streaming down your pretty cheeks and arms wrapped protectively around your stomach. JJ felt his stomach drop and the immediate desire to kill whoever made him feel like this. But it seems his cousin has the same desire because both boys stand up at the sight of you.

Dean is the first to step towards you, softly muttering your name. You don’t even glance in Dean’s direction. It isn’t until he repeats your name again, louder this time, that you finally look over at him.

JJ watches as you descend the steps, whip away a stray tear on your face, and stand a couple feet before the group of boys. You don’t take your eyes off Dean, and JJ prepares to watch Dean take you home and knows he will comfort you.

“I just wanna go home,” JJ doesn’t think he has ever heard you so broken up, and it makes him feel physically sick. “Can you please take me home?”

Dean immediately turns to grab his jacket that it tossed over one of the logs he was sitting on. “Of course, let me just-”

Then, you make eye contact with JJ, and the brief eye contact causes your eyes to tear up again. Without thinking, JJ jogs over and wraps you in his arms.

JJ has hugged you plenty of times, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt you hold him this tight. Your arms are tossed around his shoulders as his arms are looped around your waist. Dean turns, ready to take you home, and falters when he sees you wrapped in JJ’s arms.

“JJ, I’ve got her. She asked me to take her home.” Dean’s voice is flat, and you tense in JJ’s arms. Hoping to get a look at Dean, you pull away from JJ slightly so you can look over at him. While hugging JJ, both of you had shifted so JJ’s back was no longer to the group. Instead, Dean has a clear shot of both sides and how you and JJ are so intertwined. He feels sick watching you grip JJ so tightly.

“I was talking to JJ.” At this, JJ’s grip tightens around you as a possessive feeling strikes through him. He wants to be smug; rub it in Dean’s face that you chose him. But he would much rather get you home and figure out why you were so upset.

You turn your head, looking up at him, with his shirt clenched between your fists. Looking down at you, he can see the tears glistening in your eyes. “JJ, I want you to take me home.”

“I know, baby. Let’s go home.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and leads you in the direction of the Chateau. 

It wasn’t until you got to the Chateau that you finally let JJ know that happened, and he had been pacing around his bedroom ever since.

“I’m gonna kill him,” JJ practically grits out, his jaw so tense from anger.

“No, you’re not,” You sniffle as you stay wrapped up in JJ’s hoodie and sheets. The second you had reached his room, you climbed into his bed, you’re ultimate comfort place. There were so many times when you ended up in JJ’s bed, feeling wholly protected just by being next to him.

“Y/n, he acted like you were his. He didn’t even ask you! He was-fuck!” The bed squeaks as JJ tosses himself down at the bottom edge of the bed. His head is buried in his hands, and you can see the tension in his back. You slip out from beneath the covers and crawl towards him without saying anything. He tenses when he feels you wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder, but then he shifts to hold you to him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with men in my family.”

“You don’t have to apologize; you’re the only Maybank man I care about.” JJ nearly melts at the kiss you place on his cheek.

“Y/n.”

“JJ.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if I had told you sooner.”

“Told me what sooner?”

“About my feelings for you.” Your heart feels like it has given out when you hear him say this.

“No.” Your voice is a whisper as you look up at him.

“No?” His voice is just as soft as yours.

“That isn’t fair to put on yourself; Dean did what he did because he’s a dick.”

“I should have told you that I’ve been in love with you for a long that I can’t even remember when it started. It feels like I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. I’ve loved you so for so fucking long, and I never told you,” He pauses, tucking a stray hair behind your ear like he did earlier in the night.

“I never thought I’d have a shot with you, and then I saw you with Dean. God, Y/n, I wanted to kill him. He had everything I ever wanted,” A soft sigh leaves his lips, and you simply watch him, your stomach fluttering at his confession.

JJ, you sigh, “Everyone knew my feelings about you; I don’t know how you didn’t. Why do you think I was always the first to clean you up after a fight? I would always share the couch with you if I had to. Not like it was a problem for me. I invited you to stay at my house; when have I ever invited Pope or John B to stay in my bed? I’ve always liked you, J, and always will.”

He stared at you as you talked, and you moved closer to him, taking a chance, sitting in his lap, and interlocking your hands behind his neck. His hands quickly found your waist and held you in his lap.

“I’ve always been in love with you,” You whispered softly, too nervous to say the words too loud, worried you might scare him off despite his previous comments. He didn’t say anything at first, simply tugging you into his chest so you had your legs wrapped around his waist as you hugged him. He pulled back to look at you, and your stomach flipped when you saw how he looked at you.

As close as you and JJ always were as friends, you had never been this close as you stared at him. Your heart was racing to see him stare at you like he found you stunning; he had never looked at you like this before. If he had, you had never gotten to see it.

“J?”

“Yea?”

“Can you kiss me?” When his lips meant yours, it wasn’t rough, or fast-it was gentle and soft-like he wanted to take all his time in the world with you. He brushed his lips against yours, slipping his hands into your hair. Relishing in the feeling of you pressed against him. His lips were soft and slow against yours, making you melt into him. Of all the times you had pictured kissing him, it had been quick and heated. But as he laid you down and pressed gentle kisses to your lips and neck, you preferred this to your fantasies.

He brushed his lips against yours, mumbling about how much he loved kissing you, making you smile against his lips. His hands trailed all over your body, barely touching against your skin, but enough to leave goosebumps behind. When he reached your hips, he would give a gentle squeeze. Sitting up, he used an arm to bring you up with him. You had waited so long to kiss JJ; now that you were, you didn’t want it to stop. His hands trailed along your thighs as you sat in his lap, leading the kiss.

“Arms up, baby,” He told you as he pulled your sweatshirt over your head, tossing it to the ground. Watching his eyes raking up and down your body made you dizzy. You let his eyes take in your body before tugging at the hem of his shirt, silently telling him that you wanted it off. This was your chance to admire his body’s dips and curves. There was never a time that you could admire him up close, and that you had, you never wanted to stop. You knew he was muscular from the countess times you had watched him surf and walk around shirtless, but getting to touch him this way was entirely different. Being alone meant you didn’t have to worry about your friends catching your longing looks; there was no John B to relentlessly tease you. Just you and JJ.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” He said as he slipped his fingers under your white bra straps and let them fall down your shoulders.

“Thank you, you’re pretty beautiful too,” Your voice teased as you threw your arms around his neck. Quickly, he leaned forward to kiss you, not wanting to waste another second without tasting you.

“Damn right,” He mumbled, making you giggle. You were about to reach around your back to rid yourself of your bra when he stopped you.

“That’s my job from now on,” He shot you a cocky grin and pushed your hands away from your bra to do it himself. He reached one hand around you, and you felt your bra drop.

“One hand, baby,” He joked. You laughed loudly, remembering that JJ and John B had borrowed yours and Kiara’s bras years ago, hoping to learn to do it one-handed. They eventually did know after you and Kiara stepped in to teach them.

“Pure fucking talent,” You sarcastically answered him, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He groaned when he saw your bare tits and perky nipples. Your mind blanked as you heard the noise that came from him. 

His mouth closed around your nipple, biting gently, ripping a gasp from your throat. Their back arched into his chest to give him better access. He wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Beneath you, you could feel how quickly this was turning his hair wild from when you had your fingers through his hair. Soft sighs were filling the room as he licked and sucked, alternating between both of your tits. The wetness between your legs grew more apparent as he touched you.

He grabbed your waist and moved you off of his lap, pushing you down so that you were laid out underneath him. His hands slipped under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down, bringing your underwear with them. Your first reaction was to close your legs; you were not used to having someone see you like this. But he gently placed his hands on your knees and pushed them apart. 

You sat up as he stood at the end of his bed, slipping his shorts down. Oh fuck. Wetness pooled between your thighs as his cock was released from his underwear. You had always wondered whether he would be big or small, and you weren’t surprised he was in the bigger size. A quick kiss was placed on your lips before he touched your chest, pushing you back on the bed. With your back against the pillows and your legs spread, he finally got to look at all of you. All bare and glistening, and he swore he had never been harder in his life. He glanced up at you, asking for permission, and you nodded. Pressing kisses from your ankles to between your thighs, he slowly made his way to where you wanted him most.

“God baby, you’re soaked for me,” You could only answer with a whimper as he slipped his fingers over your clit, causing you to arch your back. He was slow as he began to circle your clit, adding fingers to pump in and out of you.

The moan you let out was pornographic when he replaced his fingers with his mouth, letting his tongue slide along your pussy. From the bottom to the top, he licked through your folds. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, but you knew he wouldn’t if you asked him to go faster; he seemed pleased to take things slowly and gently.

“Your pussy tastes so good, it could eat you out for hours,” He mumbled against you, causing you to moan loudly. Your fingers twisted in the sheets as you continued licking and sucking your clit, bringing you closer to your orgasm. Your legs began to shake, and you were momentarily embarrassed. It had been months since you were last touched, and without warning, JJ between your thighs was bringing you to your orgasm embarrassingly quick. Without warning, he pulled away from you, leaving you a little confused.

“Lay at the end of the bed,” You were still shaky, but you did as you were told and glanced up at him, kneeling at the foot of his bed. He kissed your lips before standing up, and you realized what he had in mind.

You watched as he grabbed his cock between his hand and guided it into your mouth. The moan that left his mouth as he felt your mouth had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Holy fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Desperation laced through his voice, making you feel entirely feral for him. You were willing to do anything that he told you to do.

His hands were in your hair as he created a makeshift ponytail to hold you in place as he fucked your mouth. Youhines were muffled b cock, and from the sounds that were leaving him, you could tell he was enjoying this. A quick peek up at him let you know just how good he was feeling. The flush on his cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows were your indicators.

You pulled away from him with a pop, leaving a trail of salvia attaching you to him, “I need you to fuck me; I’ve waited too long to do this.” 

Your voice sounded incredibly desperate as you begged him. He said nothing, just leaned down to kiss you before reaching beside the bed. He dug around in his shorts before grabbing a condom from his wallet. You sent him a soft smile and laid your back against the pillows, waiting for him. He sat before you, then situated himself between your legs and used his arms to hold himself above you. He looked down at you, and you sent him a giggly smile.

“I love you, J,” You told him, causing him to gently lean down and kiss you.

“I love you, baby,” He whispered against your lips, sending butterflies throughout your stomach. 

He sat up, grabbing your thighs with both hands, moving your legs so that you could slip between them. Your knees were bent, and your legs were on either side of him as he brushed his fingers against your clit again.

“God, you have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen,” His simple words caused a gasp to be pulled from you.

His cock replaced his fingers, teasing your clit before sliding the tip inside you. At the feeling, both of you let out satisfied moans. JJ quickly grabbed your hands and intertwined your fingers before fully pushing inside of you slowly. “Jesus Christ,” He was nearly gone. “So fucking good.” All you could do was moan in response.

His thrusts began slow, sliding in and out of you at an agonizing pace, making you cry out at him to go faster. He didn’t listen.

“You look so pretty getting fucked,” He reached his hand down, using his thumb to rub against your clit in the slowest circles. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.”

If you hadn’t been so fucked out, you would’ve been embarrassed at hearing how wet you were desperately cried a pathetic, moaning as he quickly flipped you over and grabbed get enough of you.”

When he slipped out of you, you desperately cried in protest. But he was quick to flip you over and grab your hips, pulling you onto all fours. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze and placed a few kisses on your shoulder. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he ran his fingers down your spine. Lifting yourself up so your back was pressed against him and your neck was exposed so he could press kisses against you. His arms slid around your waist, his right hand going up to grab at your tits as he nipped at your neck. Your legs felt shaky as he held you up and against him. The moans that filled your ears being this close to him drove you crazy. You didn’t think you would ever get used to hearing him like this. So fucked out and close to coming.

“Fuck J, please go harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder, baby?” You babbled incoherently in response, making JJ grin.

“Beg me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, JJ! Please, I need more of your cock. I want you to take me, be rough with me.”

He pushed you forward, forcing you back on all fours. You let out a loud ‘fuck’ when he shoved his cock back into you, not sure how long you could hold yourself up. His hands gripped your hips tightly, keeping you in place, and he slid his cock in and out of you, the room filling with both of your moans.

“Is that what you wanted, baby? Wanted to fucked rougher?”

As he quickened his pace, you stuck your ass in the air and pressed your cheek against the bed, raising your arms above your head as he fucked you. Your fingers were tangled in the sheets, and you knew the neighbors could probably hear you. Out of all the times you had been with a guy, you didn’t think you had ever been this loud. Each time he thrust into you, you let out a high-pitched moan, unable to stop yourself.

His name and curses fell through your lips, and you got closer and closer to coming. You knew you would come quicker than you usually would since you had spent years fantasizing about JJ. You had spent countless nights getting off to the thought of getting to be with JJ, and if you knew him at all-he did too.

“Fuck JJ, I’m getting close,” You whined, your voice shaky as he pounded into you. “Gonna cum!”

“Fuck. Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” you knew you could let go with him. You could tell by his quickened pace and sloppy thrusts.

When you felt him grab your hips hard and pound into you a few more times, you knew you could let go with him.

“JJ! Fuck, I-”

“I know, fuck. I’m gonna cum.” that admission, your back arched as you felt your pussy squeeze around him. The moans leaving you were beyond loud, and you hoped to God none of your friends had decided to come back from the party.

“Fuck.” He grunted as he thrust one final time into you before squeezing your hips tightly. The feeling of him switching inside you sent you over the edge. You let go, pleasure coursing through you as you felt your whole body shake as the feeling shot through your entire body.

“Jesus, baby,” JJ mumbled as his head dropped to your back. You let out a giggle, understanding how fucked out he was feeling.

He slowly slid out, falling onto the bed next to you. You let your hips drop, moving so that you were on your side facing him. You were both breathing hard and knew you would need a shower and clean sheets after this.

“God, I love you.” He kisses your head before standing up and heading into your bathroom. You hear him come back after a few minutes.

“Turn over, baby.” You turn to see him with a warm washcloth; he slowly moves your legs apart and cleans up the mess between them. Your heart melts as you watch him take care of you. Once he’s done, he tosses the rag and lays beside you; you move so that you’re lying against his chest, and he throws his blanket over the both of you.

“JJ?”

“Yea, sweetheart?”

“Thank you for taking me home.”

“Be fucking quiet; you’re gonna wake her up.” JJ snapped, sending a glare over at John B. It was nearly 9 am, and they were the only two awake, the rest of the group fast asleep after the party.

“I am being fucking quiet, dumbass.”

“I don’t need her finding out what happened this morning,” He grumbled, glancing down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. John B’s snort caught his attention, and he glanced up at his best friend, who was looking at his hand.

“Like that won’t give it away?”

“I’ll just say I got into it with some kooks.”

“You’re gonna lie to her?” John B sent him an unimpressed look.

“Jesus, John B! I don’t know what I’m gonna tell her yet.”

“Tell her the truth. That you beat the shit out of our cousin for her,” He shrugged like it was the most straightforward option. “Where is she anyway? Did you take her home?”

JJ faltered at that question, the memories of last night running through his head. He still needed to update John B that your friendship had been properly ruined. But he didn’t know what the two of you were now. Were you dating? Casually seeing each other for now? That was something that he should clear up soon.

“No, she’s uh-“His door creaked, and you were wrapped in his sheets. Your hair was a mess, a couple of marks littered your neck, and your eyes were squinted with sleep.

“J?” You called quietly, and JJ nearly melted. How did he get so lucky? How did this angel have feelings for him? “Can you come back? I miss you.”

You must have been delirious with sleep and not have even noticed John B because there was no way you would’ve felt comfortable looking and speaking this vulnerably in front of him any other time.

“Yea, baby. I’ll be there.” You sent him a sleepy smile and closed the door. JJ nearly jumped up from his spot to get to you.

“Baby?” John B let out, sounding incredibly smug and wearing a grin. “Looks like you finally told her.”

JJ didn’t say anything; he just flipped him off with a smug smile as he closed the door to his bedroom and slipped into bed with you.

“Hi,” He quietly greeted as he settled into his pillow facing you.

“Why’d you leave?” Your voice was laced with sleep as you scooted closer to him.

“I went and saw Dean,” He felt you tense in his arms, and for a second, he wondered if he had made the wrong decision by telling you. He would never regret punching his cousin for the way he treated you.

“J, what did you do?”

“I punched him, and I know you aren’t a fan of that, but-“His words were cut off by pressing your lips to his.

“Thank you, he deserved it,” You quietly mumbled before snuggling back into his chest.

JJ had never loved you more.

[greensagephase]

Double Trouble (One -Shot) Part Two

Pairing: 2099 Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader X Variant Miguel O'Hara Summary: You thought it was a one-time thing, but you were wrong. Word Count: 3,194 Warnings: Minor plot (?) after the first part; oral (both f and m receiving); fingering; biting; lots of kissing; p in v; unprotected sex; handjob; blowjob; nipples played and sucked with (f); let me know if I'm missing something, not really used to writing smut tbh; 2099 Miguel goes as Miggy from now on while reader's OG Miguel is called Miguel; MINORS DNI, please!! A/N: This is a part two to Double Trouble (One Shot) as it was requested by @veyveys I hope you like this!! Thank you for requesting it!! :) Masterlist

You thought it was a one-time thing for many reasons. First, the three of you were drunk that night. Second, you blamed your eagerness on the fact that 2099 Miguel looks almost identical to your Miguel, so it made sense that you found him attractive and even desired him. 

Third, your Miguel would probably not agree with it once he was sober. Right? You know the two of you have plans to marry at one point, sooner rather than later even if there’s no rush. So, surely your Miguel was going to agree that it was fun but that was it. It’s not like he’s possessive of you but still, you thought he wouldn’t want it to happen again considering it was with one of his counterparts.

Fourth, there’s 2099 Miguel. You have learned so much about him over the last few months. You know about his past; about losing a child he basically adopted and about his duties as the leader of the Spider Society, something you’ve always asked him about as you find it fascinating. You have a good understanding of his personality, too, despite only knowing him for a few months. He’s more serious but sweet and caring nonetheless, and though he never showed it before that night, for some reason 2099 Miguel also struck you as a possessive man. A man that wouldn’t want to share a woman with another man. So, you guessed that 2099 Miguel would also move past it.

You carried on with your day that morning after both Miguel’s fucked you again, blaming that morning’s moment to leftover hormones from the night before, knowing that what happened was great - more than great, really - but that was it, as you believed that everyone would agree it was best to leave it in the past but oh, you were so wrong. While you slept peacefully between them that first night, passed out after so many rounds of getting fucked, the men talked and an agreement was struck. 

And that agreement is how you find yourself in your current position. You're on your back on a king size bed in a penthouse bought by Miggy, or 2099 Miguel. The three of you agreed that calling both Miguel's "Miguel" was getting confusing, so you suggested "Miggy" since you've never given your original Miguel a nickname, making it easier on everyone. And God, Miggy loved it as soon as it left your lips. He hates nicknames but when it came from your pretty mouth, he nodded instantly, especially because it was agreed that you’d be the only one to call him that. It was part of the agreement, the same one that has allowed you to be in the position you’re in now.  

You arch your back in pleasure and moan loudly while you lay on the bed, big enough to fit the three of you comfortably, with your legs over Miggy's shoulders as his large hands keep your thighs open so his hungry mouth can keep devouring your pussy. 

"Mig-Miggy!" you cry out in pleasure as you feel his tongue flatten against your clit, moving especially slow to tease you before he glides it back down your slit, licking up your arousal. You whimper in pleasure and reach with one hand for his hair, sliding your fingers into his already messy locks. You grip it, earning yourself a low growl from him. 

"So sensitive. So responsive," he murmurs against your flesh as he dips his tongue into you. "Like always," he adds looking up with a smirk as he catches sight of you arching your back, eyes closed and lips parted in pleasure. The sight alone makes his already hard cock throb with need. He can’t wait to be inside you, buried deeply as you take him like a good girl. “Mierda,” he groans just at the thought as he keeps eating out your wet pussy.

You move your free hand to the side, finding Miguel's hand and holding it. You open your eyes as Miggy continues to eat you out, finding Miguel stroking himself as he watches for a few minutes. You gasp and moan as you feel Miggy slip a finger inside you. 

"Fuck - yes," you breath out closing your eyes again as he begins to slide his large finger in and out of you. 

Your breast is cupped suddenly before you feel warmth and wetness on your nipple. Moaning, you open your eyes to find Miguel sucking on it gently, letting his tongue swirl over the sensitive bud with experience. 

"Look how pretty you look, hermosa. So pretty, getting your pussy fingered, getting your nipples sucked," Miguel says in between licking and sucking your nipples. 

"So beautiful," Miggy says as he adds another finger, further stretching you out, preparing you for the night. "So fucking beautiful, bonita." 

You grip the sheets as your men pleasure you. And yes, your men. It’s no longer your Miguel and the other Miguel. They’re both yours and in return, you are theirs, and theirs alone. 

“Yes, yes - I - fuck,” you say with closed eyes, unable to form a coherent sentence as Miggy fucks you with his fingers, feeling his speed increase as Miguel sucks and plays with your breasts. You whimper softly when you feel Miggy’s mouth on your inner thigh, licking softly before he bites your skin, gently as always but with enough pressure that it will leave a mark and show by tomorrow morning. With everything happening, you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your climax just from Miggy’s fingers and Miguel’s mouth. 

Miggy can’t help but groan as he feels you squeeze his fingers, knowing you’re close to your climax. He pulls them out at the same time Miguel releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop, eliciting a loud and whiny whimper from you that just serves to arouse the men even more at your neediness. 

“Always so needy, bonita,” Miggy teases as he bites your other inner thigh before licking the area to not only ease the slight pain he’s caused you but to get a taste of your lovely skin. “But I don’t want you to come like that. Not around my fingers, you know that,” he says sternly before he brings his fingers to his mouth, obscenely licking your wetness from them. “Fuck, I’ll never get over how amazing you taste, bonita.”

With Miggy tasting your juices, Miguel reaches over, sliding two fingers over your slit and collecting your wetness to taste it himself. He groans. 

“So sweet, hermosa,” he tells you. “Treating your men to your sweetness, hm? Love giving us a taste, don’t you?” he adds as he keeps licking his long fingers.

You watch as they suck their fingers with eyes closed, lost in the haze of your taste. You can’t help but find the view arousing as they surround you, sucking your arousal off their fingers like it’s the most delicious thing they’ve ever tasted. Their large cocks are hard, already oozing with pre-cum; a sign of how arousing they find this even though you just started. You sit up, an opportunity Miguel takes to grab your face. He kisses you, slipping his tongue into your mouth before he lets go. He's barely released you when Miggy, who at some point got up between your legs, grabs your face, too. He kisses you, a bit more roughly than Miguel. He holds your neck as he slips his tongue into your mouth, making it a purpose to swirl it against yours, letting you taste yourself for a few seconds before he releases you. Miguel takes your face again, and the cycle repeats with the men taking turns kissing you. Their kisses become needier, sloppier, and rougher but you greedily accept them, loving every second even when your lips start to feel swollen.

“Tell us how much you like this,” Miguel says as he releases your face for Miggy. 

“How much you crave our touch,” Miggy adds after he kisses you. 

You sit on the bed as they keep kissing you and asking you to say things but not giving you a chance to answer since they're kissing you back to back, which only seems to get them even more aroused. They love the way you’re so lost even with simple kisses, how you try to form the words they’re telling you but losing your train of thought as soon as their lips meet yours. 

“Tell us how wet this makes you, hermosa,” Miguel continues. 

“Tell us how badly you crave our cocks. How much you love getting attention from your men,” Miggy says. 

“Hermosa needs her two men, right, baby?” Miguel asks, nipping at your earlobe. 

You can only hum in response as they kiss and now gently bite at your body, causing you to whimper and moan. 

“Need you to use your words, bonita. Tell us how badly you need us. Use that pretty mouth of yours,” Miggy says, grabbing your face with a bit more force yet not in a painful way. You open your eyes and meet his red ones. His face is inches away, breath fanning your face as he gives you that look you’ve learned to recognize all too well. He’s ready to fuck you until you see stars. 

“Yes - I need you,” you answer too eagerly as Miguel brings his head closer. You look up at them, sitting between them as they kneel on either side of you. 

“Say it,” Miguel says. “Say you need your men.”

“I - I need my men,” you answer, growing wetter by the second at the sight of them surrounding you, keeping you trapped between their warm and strong bodies.

“And what do you want from your men, bonita? Hm? Tell your men what you want,” Miggy whispers. 

“All I want is to feel good,” you whisper as Miggy brings his thumb close to your mouth, swiping at your bottom lip. “I want to feel the two of you. I - need the two of you,” you admit and that’s all it takes. 

You’re pushed on your back before you even realize it, strong and warm hands spread your legs, allowing Miggy to settle between them. As he readies himself, you feel the tip of his cock brush against your pussy, making the two of you moan at the slightest touch. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Miggy groans as he drags you down the bed, pulling you closer. 

He pushes his tip in with a low growl, feeling your tightness envelop him immediately, sensing how you’re adjusting to his size. While Miggy pushes his cock further into you, Miguel’s mouth returns to your breasts as he strokes himself, knowing that once Miggy is done, it’ll be his turn to have you. A loud moan escapes from your lips as Miggy bottoms out, filling you completely in the most delicious way. 

Feeling your warmth and wetness, all Miggy wants to do is rut into you but he holds back, trying to enjoy the way you feel and look at least for a few seconds before he lets go because damn, you look so beautiful. Your eyes are closed once again, mouth parted with your hands gripping the sheets as he fills you completely and Miguel sucks on your breasts. He starts moving, slowly sliding out and watching your chest rise in anticipation before he slides back in, hearing your soft whimpering begging for more. He can’t help but smirk at the sight; at how needy and responsive you are for them. 

His hips begin to pick up speed, causing you to moan loudly. 

“Yes, Miggy, please,” you whimper. 

“Yes, what, bonita?” Miggy asks as he keeps fucking you at a decent speed, wanting to prolong this moment a bit more. “What do you need?”

Arching your back and with one hand on Miguel’s head to keep his mouth on your breast now, you open your eyes and meet Miggy’s.

“Keep fucking me,” you reply breathlessly, in a way that makes Miggy want to fuck you faster already. “Just like that, please.”

“Good girl,” Miggy praises you, knowing how well you respond to being praised in bed. “Always so good for me, for Miguel. Always so good for us, bonita,” Miggy says as he begins to thrust into you faster, groaning. “Estás tan mojadita. Tan apretadita. Solo para mi, solo para mi,” he moans in Spanish as his hands take hold of your hips.

He grips your hips and thrusts into you, faster and harder. Your bed’s headboard starts hitting the wall repeatedly and loudly, briefly reminding you it’s one of the reasons why you moved out of your apartment as you were getting complaints from too much noise from your neighbors. 

“Mig- Fuck - Mig-ggy! Just - Just lik - that,” you manage to say, driving Miggy crazy at the fact that you can’t even form proper sentences right now. 

“So good, bonita. You’re doing so well taking my cock,” he praises as he moves you slightly, allowing him to thrust into you deeper than before. He grunts as he feels your pussy squeezing him perfectly, getting him closer and closer to his release. 

You nod, whimpering and moaning as your men pleasure you, knowing that this is only the first round of many and once you’re done, you’ll be spent and exhausted.

“Look at you, hermosa, taking Miguel’s cock so well,” Miguel says, releasing one of your nipples from his mouth. You whimper at his words and lack of touch, missing his mouth on your already sensitive breasts from his work. “Miss my mouth already, baby? You are always so eager to have them sucked, aren’t you? You just love it and fuck, I won’t lie. I love seeing you like this. How sensitive you are even to just this,” Miguel says as his hands find their way back to your nipples before he rolls them between his thumbs and index fingers. 

You cry out in pleasure, reaching that point in which you get overwhelmed by every word and touch. Your eyes are closed and you swear you see stars as Miguel continues to tweak with you nipples while Miggy fucks you merciless, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

Even in the blissful state you’re in, your nearest hand to Miguel finds its way to his cock. You wrap your hand around it, pumping it with experience as your thumb swipes his tip, feeling his slickness. Your moves earn you a low growl from Miguel as he keeps playing with your nipples, applying more pressure to them as he feels pleasure from your hand, which increases with each second.

“Fuck, hermosa,” Miguel groans as he slows his movements on your nipples for a few seconds, melting into your touch as you take care of him. 

“Migu-el, come closer,” you tell him as you keep pumping his member in your hand, noticing the way his stomach flexes with each pump. “I want you in my mouth.” 

Miguel groans and shakes his head. “This is about your pleasure, hermosa. Don’t worry about me for now,” he tells you reassuringly but you keep tugging him, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Please, Miguel. Need you - fuck - need you in my mouth. Ple-ase,” you whimper, leaving Miguel no other choice but to fulfill your wish, making Miggy thankful that Miguel is doing it because hell - both men would do anything to make you happy, especially when you’re whimpering like that. 

Miguel moves closer to your head, positioning himself so you can take him in your mouth. You eagerly take his cock and start sucking him off, moaning in pleasure as you feel Miguel start moving slowly while Miggy keeps fucking you, hitting that special spot that makes you feel like you’re no longer seeing stars but you’re up there with them - getting you closer and closer to your release.

“That’s right, baby. Let go, bonita, come for me,” Miggy grunts as he picks up his speed, thrusting into you faster than before. His new speed fills the room with obscene sounds of flesh slapping flesh in addition to the sound of your soaking pussy taking Miggy’s cock.

Your free hand reaches for Miggy as you rapidly feel yourself reaching that high. Miggy lets go from one side of your hip, taking your hand and letting you curl your fingers around his, instantly feeling your nails dig into his palm as you become even more of a whimpering mess underneath him. The three of you are losing it with each passing second, rapidly reaching your highs. At last, that feeling grows and you can’t slow it or stop it. You let go, feeling your thighs tremble as your orgasm unravels. 

“Así, así look how fucking beautiful you look cumming for me, bonita. Fuck - I’m gonna - fill you up right now,” Miggy says groaning and driving his cock deeper, feeling your fingers dig into his palm and your pussy clenching him as you cum.

You can’t help yourself, so you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as you feel his cock twitch once, twice before he spills inside, filling you with his warm, thick cum as you continue to squeeze him. 

“Mierda, me encanta cuando haces eso,” Miggy groans. “Milking me so well, like the good girl you are.”

Miggy’s words only encourage you to continue to take him and suck Miguel’s cock faster. You move your head as best as you can in the position you’re in, enjoying the sound of both men groaning in pleasure and their words as they praise you for doing so good; for taking their cocks so well. You prepare yourself as Miguel grunts, pushing his cock slightly farther into your mouth. 

“Fuck, hermosa, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours - I’m gonna-” Miguel warns before he shoots his warm load in your mouth. You moan and try to keep up with all the sensations as both men fill you up.

Miggy moans as he keeps cumming inside of you, still fucking you but slowing down as you’re a shaky, whimpering mess beneath the two men, trying to recover. You're breathing heavily, trying to come back to your senses but it’s too much. Miguel finishes spilling into your mouth and you swallow his load, feeling his hands still working on your chest, though more gently. Miggy is still moving inside of you, still releasing his cum as his loads are larger than Miguel’s, groaning in pleasure and telling you what a good girl you are for taking his load.

At last, both men pull out of you with wet pops. You whimper softly and open your eyes slowly, finding both men kneeled around you, watching you with pride and affection. You smile at them, feeling heat in your cheeks as you lay before them completely exposed with Miggy’s thick cum slowly leaking out of you. 

Your Miguel’s smile down at you, caressing you as you recover. They settle at your sides, snuggling you and whispering sweet nothings, allowing you time to prepare for the second round in your shared bed.

----

Translations for words in Spanish: mierda - shit hermosa - gorgeous bonita - pretty, beautiful "Estás tan mojadita. Tan apretadita. Solo para mi, solo para mi" - "You're so wet. So tight. Just for me, just for me" "Así..." - "like that" "Mierda, me encanta cuando haces eso" - "shit, I love it when you do that"

[causeilikelix]

Rose Garden - Part Two

↳Pairing: Prince!Lee Know x Maid!afab reader

↳Words: 12,500~ (oops)

↳Warnings: SMUT obviously so as always minors DNI, unprotected sex (don't do this! but its not like these two had any other choice), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie, overall very vanilla stuff. Mentions of nausea but no one does on-screen. (For someone with emetophobia, I write about nausea a lot). Pregnancy scare?, ANGST

If there's anything else I missed, let me know!

TAGLIST: @ohmy-moonlightx , @junebug032 , @giyusatorou , @skzfelixlove , @kittkat44 , @nap-of-a-starr, @ventitto , @blankdyean , @lethallyprotected , @poisonivy21 , @nobody3210 , @chuuswifereal , @hisokasimp1, @lookitsjess

(Strikethrough means unable to tag, if I forgot someone or would like to be added then please let me know!)

↳Notes: I finished this first week of May then got taken out by a mystery illness for basically the whole month (respiratory infection I think). Anyway, today is my 27th birthday so I am giving all of you a gift!

PART ONE

↳Ready on my AO3: Here

“CAN’T YOU BE more gentle?” You groaned as your ribcage tightened.  With every tug of the laces on that infernal corset, your ribs condensed and your breasts swelled.  You could have sworn that a seamstress could thread you through a needle at this rate.  You often wore a corset of your own to work, but it was more for general support than to actually suck you into the point of suffocation.  The whale bone threaded through the offensive garment assured you that once you were in, nothing would move.

“That’s how this works, Y/N.  You should know, you entrap me in my corset every morning.”  Joy muttered through gritted teeth.  Her fingers worked on the laces to make sure they were perfectly snug and not going anywhere.  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

“I can hardly breathe.”  You gasped out.

“Maybe so but you will be the picture of perfection.  This dress is going to look amazing on you.”  Joy promised. 

Your eyes darted to the dress laid out on the bed.  For the day, the queen had assigned guest quarters to every visiting lady with the invitation to spend the night if it fit in the travel plans.  Joy, of course, had jumped at the opportunity for a night away from home.  Especially if that night was to be spent dancing away at the palace.  That meant the pair of you had a private bedroom that could be used to change your identity.  The grand four-poster bed was large enough to sleep four comfortably.  You had a feeling that she would insist on sharing the bed with you.  Poor thing never did like sleeping alone.  You didn’t mind. 

“What is wrong with you?”  You panted.  Your lungs worked overtime to get used to being in such a compact space.  “How can you people wear this all the time?”

“They train us young.”  Joy muttered.  “Aha!  Done!  Let’s get you into this gown, shall we?”

Before you knew it, you were drowning in a sea of blue and pink fabric.  The skirts were never ending and created a full ball gown silhouette, though your bone underskirt held most of the fabric away from your legs.  The gown was made of rich peacock-blue silk and layers of delicate tulle that sparkled and shimmered under the light.  Silver lace appliques decorated the bodice and the top half of the skirt.  Some light tulle fabric hung just off your shoulders, creating a sweetheart off-the-shoulder neckline.  You had to admit that the colors were absolutely stunning.  It didn’t feel right that someone like you should wear a gown so beautiful. 

However, once the garment was secured in place with some lacing, you fell in love with it.  The gown hugged your waist and pushed your breasts up just enough.  The skirts swished when you moved and glittered in the light.  

“Y/N,” Joy breathed, “You look beautiful.  Come, let me do your hair and put on your jewelry.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one getting you ready?”  You asked as Joy guided you to sit down at the vanity. 

“There is time for that.  There’s no harm in being a little late if we need to.  The ball will undoubtedly go all night.”  Joy waved it off.  She pointed at a hairbrush on the table and you passed it over your shoulder to her.  “All of that playing dress up when we were kids was totally worth it.”

“Ow…” You muttered under your breath as Joy brushed out the tangles in your hair.

“I wonder who the Queen chose to be the princess.  Surely it’s not me or we would have received some sort of notification.”  Joy mused as she ran the brush through your hair.  “I wonder why they would have all of these lavish parties if they’re not going to choose one of the ladies who attends them.  Whoever the princess is surely is very lucky.  Prince Minho is quite handsome and I’m sure he will make beautiful babies and-”

“Miss Joy.  My apologies but I’m nervous enough as it is.  I’m terrified of being in the same room as the prince.”  You cut her off, wincing as you did so.  Your training clearly specified never to interrupt your lady but all this talk of Prince Minho marrying someone else was beginning to make your heart feel heavy in your chest.  

You hadn’t found the time to tell Joy about what happened.  You wanted to scream it out to the world that Prince Minho was your soulmate but there was no telling if anyone would even believe you.  When you first met him, he was trying to escape from his duty but after he fucked you he dove head-first into it.  You wondered if someone could die from having their soulmate marry someone else. 

In the end, it would all come down to if Prince Minho would confirm the fact that you were soulmates.  If he were to deny you then you would have to live your life without your other half.  The difference in status would make any kind of relationship difficult regardless of Prince Minho’s feelings.  

You weren’t sure if you had the strength to go through with this facade but you were already dressed.  You’d already made the decision.  You couldn’t back down now.  The dress was on and Joy was carefully putting your hair in a simple updo.  She took a few pins from the hair kit you brought for her.  Each pin had a diamond on the end.  The hairdo you had planned for Joy would use most of the pins, so as she worked on your hair you tried to think of what style you could do instead. 

“Y/N, are you okay?  Your head is up in the clouds.”  Joy’s voice softened. 

“Yes, miss.  I am merely thinking about what hairstyle to do for you.”  

“No, I don’t think you are.  You’ve been gone since Prince Minho’s appearance at tea.  Are you alright?”

“Miss… I don’t know.  I feel strange.  I think me coming with you was a terrible idea.”  

“What?  How could you say that!  I don’t know what I would do without you by my side!.”

“If I hadn’t come then I never would have-”  You paused to blink back your tears.  Joy paused her styling with a quiet gasp,  “I never would have met…”

“Who is it?”  Joy whispered knowingly. 

“I can’t tell you.  It would ruin...”

“Y/N, dear, please tell me.”  Joy moved to your side and bent over to be at your level, “I promise there is nothing you could say that would make me think less of you.”

“It’s not me it would ruin.  It’s him.  He and I can never be together.”

“Y/N, please.”  Joy reached up and gently brushed away a few of the tears that had escaped your eyes.  You couldn’t stop crying.  “Tell me and maybe I can help you.”

You looked her in the eye, hoping that maybe she could read your mind.  You and Joy had been friends for as long as you could remember.  You grew up in the same house.  Your mother was Joy’s mother’s maid.  You, in turn, became Joy’s.  Even as a maid, Joy always preferred to treat you as a friend.  

To no avail.  Joy remained clueless. 

“He’s…” you took a deep breath, “My soulmate is… Prince Minho.”

Joy’s jaw dropped.  She stumbled back a bit and sat down hard on the bed.  She stared at you with wide eyes.  If only, that made you cry harder.  At this rate she would never allow you to go to the ball.  Who in their right mind would let you attend a ball when your soulmate was the prince?  

“Do not lie to me, Y/N.”  Joy warned.

“Have you ever known me to lie to you?”

“I suppose not.  You’re sure it’s him?”

“After what we did in the garden, I would know him anywhere.”

“My god, you performed the soulmate act already?”  Joy gawked, her eyes swimming with questions.  “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know…”

“I am asking as a friend, Y/N, but I will ask as your lady if I have to.”  

“Okay, well… I wandered off.  I didn’t mean to!  But I needed a break from the sun and-”

You told her the story from beginning to finish.  Meeting him in the garden and thinking he was the gardener, the accidental touch, the intensity of the soulmate act, and the way he’d turned cold afterwards.  You explained how you’d searched for him and how your stomach had churned when he was announced as the Prince.  

“It’s all hopeless!”  You wailed, dropping your tear-stained cheeks into your hands, “We can never be together.  After tonight I may never see him again!”  

“Perhaps not…  But what say you to see if we can get you two to meet one last time.  At least share some words, a kiss, something!”

“How would we do that?  He doesn’t know who I am.  He doesn’t know my name or anything.”

“You’re going to the ball tonight, of course he’ll find you!  If he doesn’t then I will speak to him.  I will tell him his angel is looking for him.  Come on, my dear, let’s get you looking perfect!”

~!~!~!~!~!~

YOU WERE CERTAIN that you were going to pass out at any moment.  The corset was bound too tightly and it was as if you were walking through hell’s inferno.  In reality you were only walking down a long corridor warmed with fireplaces, but it may as well have been the same thing.  

A finely dressed butler escorted you and Joy through the palace to the ballroom.  Joy held your hand as you walked, her grip like an iron vice.  She looked beautiful.  Once it was your turn to make her up, her hair was worthy of the princess’s tiara.  Her forest green ballgown was made of the finest silk that rippled like water when she walked.  She held her head high and turned to look at you with a bright smile. 

“You would fit right in here.”  Joy whispered lowly so the butler couldn’t hear your conversation.

“Maybe in the kitchens.”  You sighed.  “You look more like a princess than I do.”

“Nonsense.  I wasn’t born to be a princess, unlike you.”

“Lady Joy, I definitely was not born to be a princess.  Maybe the gods made a mistake.  They’ve been known to do that, right?”

“There is no way this is a mistake.  It’s clear that you belong here!  You’re the most beautiful noblewoman I’ve ever seen, cousin!”  Joy squeezed your hand pointedly. 

Muffled music played through the doors and you suddenly felt sick.  You pressed a hand to your stomach and stopped walking.  Joy stopped as well.  The butler continued on for a few steps before realizing that you weren’t following.

“I can’t do this.”

“Y/N!  Are you with child?”  Joy whispered and nodded to the hand on your stomach.

“What?  No!  It only happened this afternoon.  It takes longer to develop a child.  I’m just sick to my stomach.”

“It’s only nerves.  Once we get into the ballroom, everything will be okay.  We’ll dance a little bit and then we’ll enact the plan, alright?”  

“I can’t.  This was a terrible idea, let me go back to the room and-”

“No!  Y/N, no!  Just take a deep breath.  I’ll be right there by your side the entire time.”  Joy promised, “Let’s go.”

She pulled you along and the butler continued leading you through the palace.  The music got louder and louder until the butler paused at a large set of double doors.  Joy turned to smile at you one last time before looking forward.  

A pair of butlers opened the doors, revealing a lavish, golden ballroom.  Several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling with candles casting flickering rainbows on the walls.  The dance floor was packed with ladies and gentlemen alike, dancing away in celebration.  A handful of musicians played a waltz.  

Your eyes were immediately drawn to a raised platform at the back of the room.  A triad of ornate golden thrones with purple velvet and diamonds were perched atop.  In the center throne, a woman in an enormous embroidered gown with a huge crown atop her head tapped her fingers to the time of the music; the Queen.  To her left sat the young princess, no older than fifteen but old enough to be at her brother’s party.  She stared out into the crowd with a polite smile.  Then, your gaze landed on the man you wanted to see. 

Prince Minho sat to his mother’s right.  He wore the same outfit as before, except he’d taken his crown off and hung it off one of the posters of his throne.  He lounged a bit in his chair, not really paying attention to anyone around him.  He sipped on a goblet of wine.  The prince, instead, stared at the ceiling. 

He looked just as beautiful as the moment you first saw him.  Something about the candlelight made his skin glow.  

You sucked in a breath when you laid eyes on him.  It took every ounce of self control in your body and Joy’s hand to keep you from running through the ballroom to be with him.  Something tugged on your heart like an invisible string, urging you forward. 

When you stepped through the door into the ballroom, Prince Minho cocked his head suddenly.  He turned his gaze away from the ceiling and scanned the throngs of dancing people.  He scoured the dancers before turning his attention to the walls.  Servants were stationed by the wall or in the corners where they couldn’t be easily seen unless you were looking for them.  Just out of sight, but there in case they were needed.  Prince Minho searched the face of each one until his gaze passed over the doors you’d just walked through.  

Then came the double take.  He looked on the other side of the room for a moment before turning his head back in your direction. 

When you made eye contact, you gasped and gripped Joy’s hand a little tighter.  Joy immediately snapped her head to look at the prince.  She followed his gaze and found you as the person in question.  He raised an eyebrow in question but said nothing.  He knew your true stature but he was in no position to tell anyone anyway.  

“Come, let’s find something to eat.  You need your energy.”  Joy whispered, pulling your attention away from the Prince.

“But… Prince Minho…”

“There will be time for that.  We have hours before the Prince will retire.  He’s seen you, so there is no doubt in my mind that he will seek you out.”  Joy assured you.  

She pulled you through the ballroom to a dining room.  There were several tables lined with food piled high on silver platters.  Dishes like pork, chicken, rolls, roasted vegetables, you name it.  Instantly, your mouth watered.  You could not remember the last time you broke fast and your dehydration this morning left you with a pounding headache.  

“I am pretty hungry…”  You mused.

“Let’s get you something to eat and then I’ll tell you everything about my plan.”

~!~!~!~!~!~

JOY’S SUGGESTION DIDN’T sit right with you at first, but she eventually convinced you to dance with the very first man who asked.  You’d barely caught the man’s name, Christopher something-or-other.  He was staggeringly handsome, though he could hold no candle to your Destined. 

Christopher spun you around the dancefloor for two whole dances.  He was careful to keep his touches over your clothes but you noticed that his eyes kept dipping down to your mouth and to the swell of your breasts out of the dress.  You wore long silver satin gloves up to your forearms, as was the fashion and the social assurance that no one could find their soulmate at these social events unless you tried really hard.  

At the end of the second dance, a whirlwind of a waltz (where you definitely stepped on his foot more than once), you were beginning to feel a little out of breath.  Joy was off dancing with another man, a complete heartthrob who had introduced himself as Peter.  Joy had promised that she would watch you all evening, but Peter had her absolutely captivated.

Christopher gazed down at you with big, brown puppy dog eyes.  He pursed his lips before opening his mouth to ask you to dance a third time.  However, a terse voice cut through the atmosphere.

“Sir Christopher, do you mind if I cut in?”  The voice sent a shiver down your spine.  You would recognize it, recognize him, anywhere. 

“Oh.  Um, of course, Sire.”  Christopher bowed before disappearing into the crowd. 

Prince Minho took his place in front of you.  You looked at him for a moment before dropping into a deep curtsy.  Your eyes turned to the floor.  Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you thought you might faint.  

In an instant, Prince Minho was touching you.  He put his hands on your shoulders to pull you out of the curtsy and one of his hands moved to your chin.  With his soft fingers, he guided your face until you were looking directly into his eyes.  The same grief from this afternoon clouded them and his eyebrows were pulled together.  

The music started and other couples around you began to dance.  Skirts swirled, girls giggled, shoes tapped on the wooden dance floor.  However, none of that mattered.  The outside world became a blur until the only thing you could see was the man in front of you.

He called you an angel before, but you were certain that the angel was actually Prince Minho.  He glowed under the candlelight and his crown looked like a halo.  Prince Minho grasped your waist and took your hand.  You gasped at the contact. 

“Take my arm.”  He commanded.  You quickly set your hand on his shoulder. 

Before you knew it, Prince Minho spun you into the crowd of dancers.  How he managed to lead without taking his eyes off yours, you may never know.  You had so many questions but you had absolutely no idea where to even begin.  All you knew for sure is that this would most likely be the last time you ever saw him.

“What’s your name?”  Prince Minho asked. 

“Y/N.”  

“Beautiful.  I knew your name would be beautiful.”  A smile played on his lips,  “How did you manage to come tonight?  I thought you were a ladies maid.”

“I am.  Lady Joy is more a friend than a lady.  We grew up together.  She asked me to come with her tonight.”  You explained, your voice weak. 

“Damn.  I’d hoped that perhaps you’d fooled me in the garden.  If you were a lady then my mother might have allowed us to marry.”  

“Couldn’t we still pretend?”

“My mother, the Queen, is very resourceful.  She would look into your family and find that you’re of common birth.  Unless, of course, you can provide undeniable proof of noble birth.”

“I’m afraid I don’t think that will be possible.”  Tears brimmed in your eyes at the thought. 

You couldn’t explain it but your heart swelled with affection for him.  You barely even know the man.  However, you could practically feel every cell in your body aching for him and needing to be with him.  His touch sent bolts of lighting through your veins.  His lips were eye level with you and all you wanted to do was claim them as yours.  Party-goers and the Queen be damned.  This man was your soulmate and you wanted everyone to know. 

“My love,”  Prince Minho smiled sadly and moved his hand from your waist in order to brush away a tear that had fallen.  He replaced his hand before you could fall out of step with the dance. “We will find a way.  Maybe it won’t be today but I must have you by my side.  I want to know everything about you.  Please, my angel, don’t think of this as an ending.  Merely a rocky and uncertain beginning.”

“How can you be optimistic about this?”  

“I am a prince.  We have a way of getting things done.”  Prince Minho smiled warmly.  The assurance that he was feeling the same way as you in this absurd situation made your heart ache a little less.  “Dance the night away with me, my love.”

How could you possibly refuse him?

You spent the next three dances in the circle of your prince’s arms.  Sir Christopher asked for your hand for one dance but Prince Minho stole you away the moment it was over.  You twirled around the ballroom, talking and laughing with one another.  He searched your mind, asking about your past, your family, your life.  He wanted to know your favorite meals, your favorite colors, artists, and flowers.  He, in turn, told you all about his favorites. 

More and more things began to line up between the two of you.  With every new thing in common, it became extremely apparent why he was your soulmate.  He was your perfect match in every way.  He was everything you ever could have wanted in a life partner.  He was charming, witty, a fantastic dancer, and he cared deeply about his country and his duties. 

Eventually, Prince Minho led you from the dance floor and onto the terrace outside.  The air was cool against your skin and you hadn’t realized you’d been sweating.  The party continued behind you, grand and gold.  There were three sets of tall glass doors that were propped open between the terrace and the ballroom.  There were fewer people outside, so it gave you and your Prince a quieter place to talk.  

And talk you did.  For hours it seemed, you spoke and shared things about your life.  There wasn’t much for you to share but you wanted to know every detail about him.  

“You must be dreading your marriage.”  You sighed.

“I am… but I know it must be done.  The last thing I want is to be with someone who isn’t my soulmate.  However, I understand that it is what I must do.  My father would have wanted me to do the same as him.”  Prince Minho explained.  “In the garden earlier, I was prepared to run away from it all.  I still wish I could escape.  However, now I know that I cannot escape my duty.”

“The same as your father?  What do you mean by that?”  You asked.  You bit down the stinging pain in your chest from all the talk of him marrying another.  Though, you had to admit that it made sense.

“My mother was not his soulmate, you see.  He never told me who it was but I’m not sure that they ever got to be together before he died.”

“Your parents managed to have children, though!  That is an accomplishment!  I heard that fertility rates between non-soulmates is very low.”

“I think it worked because my mother has never met her soulmate.  She truly loved my father and I believe that it was her love that made my sister and I come into existence.  Or maybe it was pure luck.”

“Do you believe in true love?  Love that isn’t born of soulmates?”

“Well, I suppose I’ve never thought about it.  I don’t think that I have ever loved anyone before.  I fancied a few of the ladies when I was younger, but I always knew that I would either find my soulmate one day or I would have to live without them.”  Prince Minho gazed out into the garden.  The paths were lined with torches that cast a golden glow on the ground.  Two or three lone couples strolled through the garden. 

“I apologize, My Prince.  We can discuss something else.”  

“Angel, it is alright.  There is no way you could upset me.”  Prince Minho assured you. 

He reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand.  He guided your head to make sure you were looking directly into his eyes.  “This situation is less than ideal but it is in no way your fault.  It’s crazy.  It feels as if I’ve known you all my life.”

“I know… I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Minho guided your face a little closer to his and pressed a fleeting kiss onto your cheek.  His soft lips lingered on your skin for a few long seconds.  His musky scent filled your nose and overwhelmed your senses.  You closed your eyes and breathed him in.  Something deep in your core wished that he would have kissed your lips instead. 

However, all good things come to an end. 

“HEAR YE, HEAR YE.”  A voice boomed from inside the ballroom, “ALL SUBJECTS APPEAR BEFORE THE QUEEN FOR AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.” 

Prince Minho pulled away from you and looked towards the ballroom.  The music had stopped and all of the guests were venturing towards the center of the room to listen to the announcement.  He turned to look back at you.

“It’s time, my love.”  Prince Minho offered you his hand.

Your lower lip quivered and you blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes.  You stared at his hand.  You forced yourself to swallow a sob.  Gently, you took his hand.  He led you back into the ballroom.  The stifling heat made it nearly impossible to breathe.  Your chest ached.  Your heart pounded in your ears.  

Once you got deep enough into the room, Prince Minho pulled you to a careful stop.  He looked deeply into your eyes for a few long seconds.  You stared back, desperately trying to memorize the way his eyes glowed like honey in the candle light.  They sparkled a little and with a start you wondered if he was about to cry.

“I’m going to miss you.”  He whispered. 

“And I you.”  

He gently pulled you closer.  You thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you.  The air between you thinned as his face inched closer.  He cupped your cheek in his hand and pressed your foreheads together. 

“Your lady is Lady Joy, correct?”

“Lady Joy Park.”  You affirmed. 

“I will send for you this evening, my love.  Fear not, this will not be the last time we see each other.”

With that, he vanished into the crowd.  His hand dropped from your face and he let go of your hand.  The other guests of the party bustled around you.  The air in the ballroom ran hot, but you shivered.  You searched the faces around you desperately, hoping that perhaps he would emerge from the crowd and come back to you.  

Prince Minho did emerge from the crowd, but only when he stepped back up onto the platform and reclaimed his throne.  His stoic face was set and he stared blankly into the crowd.  Your eyes welled up with tears and you blinked to try to keep them at bay.  

How were you supposed to go on without your soulmate?  All you wanted to do was run up to the throne and tell the entire room that he was yours and that no one else could have him.  

Almost as if she read your thoughts, Lady Joy appeared at your side.  She took your hand and gave you a reassuring squeeze.  

“How did it go?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

The Queen cleared her throat so loudly the chandeliers quivered.  She rose to her feet and instantly all chatter in the room ceased.  Someone coughed.  

“It is with regret that I inform you that our dear prince has not found his soulmate.”  The Queen began, “Despite all of our efforts to find his destined partner we were unsuccessful.  However, we still have call for celebration this evening.  I am happy to announce Prince Minho’s betrothal to Princess Anna from the Roman Kingdom!  The nuptials will be held next week and invitations to the event and the following balls will be sent henceforth!  They will honeymoon on the island Sicily, where our dear princess was born before they return home to us.  Please, let us congratulate the lucky couple!”

Everyone in the room applauded politely.  Prince Minho rose to his feet and bowed before sitting back down. 

You were absolutely positive that you were going to be sick.  

“Lady Joy?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Get me out of here.”

Joy wasted no time. 

She tugged on your hand, urging you to follow her.  She weaved through the crowd of people.  On your way, the man you remembered as Lord Peter stopped Lady Joy.  They whispered to each other for a few seconds, including something about a promise to see each other again soon.  With that, Joy set off again.  Lady Joy beelined towards the doors and urged the guards to open them.  They gave her a puzzled look, but followed her silent command.  

Your lady pulled you into the hallway and you couldn’t help but glance back one more time.  To your relief, or perhaps horror, Prince Minho noticed the opening of the door and his gaze found you immediately.  You locked eyes one last time before Lady Joy led you down the hall, out of sight. 

The heavy doors slid shut behind you, the heavy thud making you wince.  

How were you supposed to leave Prince Minho behind you?

~!~!~!~!~!~

“IS SHE QUITE well?” The butler’s concerned voice carried through the large bedroom.  You heard him even over your crying.  You sobbed into the pillow that was damp with your tears and yet you couldn’t stop.  Your body shook with crying and you could not seem to stop it.  Lady Joy stood at the door, accepting a pile of dry pillows that she’d requested after you’d dampened all of the others with your tears. 

“She is well, do not worry.”  Lay Joy assured him.

“Should I send for a doctor?”

“Heartbreak is something a doctor cannot fix, I’m afraid.  I will call for you if we require anything else.”  

With that, Lady Joy shut the door and made her way back to the bed.  She tossed the pillows at the foot of the bed before climbing under the luxurious duvet with you.  She wrestled with the neverending fabric of the blankets and her nightgown before she settled in and returned her attention to you.  

Both of you had changed out of your ballgowns as soon as you’d returned to your quarters.  You managed to hold back your tears just long enough to get out of your corset.  Then the waterfall began and hadn’t stopped.  Joy did her best.  Supplying you with things to dry your eyes and drink to keep your body from drying up but there was only so much she could do.

You told her everything.  You told her about the dancing, about your conversations, and about how Prince Minho promised that he would call for you.  What made it worse is that it was hours ago.  You’d already gone through at least half a candle, if not more.  The music from the ball could be heard faintly through the window.

“Perhaps he’s still there.  It would be rude of the host to leave prematurely.”  Joy reminded you.

“I can’t help it!  I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, I wish I could help you.”  Joy gently stroked your hair.

“Will the pain fade?”

“Perhaps with time.  It’s getting late, Y/N… you look exhausted.  Let’s try to sleep okay?  In the morning we can escape from this wretched place.”

Your eyes ached from crying.  Your cheeks were sticky with tears.  Joy grabbed one of the dry pillows from the end of the bed and replaced the one you were using.  She slipped out of bed once more to blow out all of the candles in the room. 

Once the room was dark, Joy slipped back into bed with you.  You buried your face into the pillow and sniffled.  Your eyelids grew heavy and you begged sleep, or perhaps death, to overtake you.  You squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to think of other things. 

Tomorrow you would have to spend hours doing laundry.  You would be washing all of the undergarments and skirts, ironing dresses, polishing jewels.  The task would probably take the entire day.  The banality of your day to day work would be sure to wipe away your feelings of dread. 

It must have only been moments after you drifted into a restless sleep when someone pounded on the door.  Your eyes shot open and you found Joy had also been startled awake.  You stared at each other for a few seconds before the pounding on the door came again.  Joy abruptly sat up.  She wrestled with the blankets for a few long seconds before she successfully freed herself and hurried to the door. 

You sat up when the door creaked open.

“Is there a young lady here by the name of Y/N?”  A male voice spoke from beyond the door.

“Y/N… is there another name?”  Joy asked. 

“Angel.  Prince Minho sends for her.”

You perked up immediately.  You threw the blankets off and clamored out of bed.  Joy put a hand up and you froze in place.  

“Yes, sir, she is here.  Please allow me a moment and I will fetch her.”  Joy spoke calmly.  You bounced on the balls of your feet. 

“Yes, my Lady.”  

Joy shut the door and turned to you, eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Y/N, take off your nightgown.”  Joy stared at you expectantly for a few seconds.  “Make haste!”

~!~!~!~!~!~ 

YOU CHEWED ON your lower lip as you stared at the large pair of ornate double doors.  The butler who had been sent to get you waited patiently nearby, waiting for your command to open them.  You couldn’t explain why the nerves and fear that overwhelmed your heart as the butler led you through the dark hallways of the palace.  

Perhaps it was the silence.  The butler didn’t say a word to you unless to remind you to follow him.  Or it was the dark hallways, lit only with a few lone candles.  

Or perhaps it was the nightgown that swirled about your ankles.  Joy insisted on giving you hers.  Your nightgown was a plain white smock but Joy’s was made of the finest pink satin and was decorated with lace and satin flowers.  It came paired with a matching silk robe that tied around your waist.  The sleeves and the skirt billowed as you walked.  It didn’t feel right to you to be wearing such a garment but Joy insisted.  If you were meeting the prince, you had to be dressed accordingly. 

You couldn’t argue with your lady so you agreed to switch nightgowns with her.  Once she had yours on, she promised to get you a nicer nightdress for your birthday.

“Anytime, Miss.”  The butler pursed his lips.  “The prince does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Open the door, please.”  You barely recognized your own voice. 

The butler pulled the door open and gestured for you to enter first.  You took a deep breath before striding through and into a bedroom about twenty times as ornate as the quarters provided to Lady Joy.  The lofted ceiling should have made the room cold, but a large fireplace was lit ablaze and crackled away.   

The door slid shut behind you.  When you glanced back, the butler hadn’t followed you. 

You slowly walked deeper into the room.  You passed through a lush drawing room, surely meant for entertaining.  A study where a large oak desk dominated the space.  A door was cracked leading into a bathroom where the bathtub alone was the same size as your room back home.  Until finally you reached the bedroom.  A large four poster bed stood tall against one wall and a chaise and a few plush couches surrounded another active fireplace.  Against the wall opposite from you stood a pair of floor to ceiling glass doors that were open and led out onto a balcony.

And there he stood.  Prince Minho had his back to you and he leaned against the balcony railing.  He stared off into the night.  If he heard you enter, he did not say.  For a few moments, you stood in the middle of his bedroom and waited.  You weren’t sure if you should say something or not.  Besides, it was not in your nature to speak before spoken to.  You wondered what he was thinking about.  

“Come, my love.”  Prince Minho glanced over his shoulder and gestured for you to join him.  Your feet carried you past the threshold and onto the balcony.  You didn’t have a chance to see the view before you were crushed in the warmest hug you’d ever received. 

Once you were close enough, Prince Minho pulled you into a tight embrace.  He buried his face in your neck and breathed in deeply.  His warmth enveloped you and his body hid you from the cool night air.  You didn’t hesitate long before your arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you.  The soft breeze around you ensured that his rich scent invaded your nostrils and you ached to have the smell imprinted on your very soul.  You wanted to remember how he held you.  He held you as if it was truly the last time.  

“We will find a solution, I promise.”  Prince Minho murmured into your neck.

“I wish I could stay.”  

“I could command it.”  

“I can’t leave my lady.”

“I can’t bear to be wed to another.”  Prince Minho pulled away just enough to look at your face.  “This entire kingdom should be yours.”

“As long as you are my soulmate, the entire kingdom is mine.”  You assured him with a small smile.  Even though your entire body ached with sadness and you wanted to cry, you couldn’t.  You didn’t want to cry in his presence. 

“Look at it.”  Prince Minho moved behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.  He moved until you stood at the railing.  “No matter the circumstance, as a prince you are my princess.  When I am king you will be my only queen.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight and his words.  From here, you could see the entire gardens as well as the golden glow coming from the ballroom.  The city sprawled out around the palace, warm and alive.  The lights below glittered and you could almost make out the subjects walking the streets.  For them, their days were just beginning.  The city extended as far as the eye could see until it met the black ocean.  From there, only inky blackness.

“Look.”  You pointed towards the city,  “You see the clocktower?”  

“I do.”

“When I have time to myself I like to go to a park nearby for a walk.  I get a day off a month and I usually spend it there.”  You explained, then pointed somewhere else.  “I take my lady to a seamstress near the tavern over there.”

“Where do you live?”  Prince Minho’s breath fanned against your ear.

“Over there.”  You pointed off to the side, “Just out of sight.  Beyond that spire.”  

“My angel… tell me something lovely.”

“Like what?”

“It matters not.  Tell me something lovely that makes you feel happy.”

“Hmm…”  You mused for a few seconds, “The feeling of grass under my feet on a warm summer day.  The ocean breeze through my hair.  The tiny noises of a puppy.  Crawling into bed after a long day.  The smell of freshly baked bread.  The rich scent of roses.”

“Roses… I may never look at them the same way again.”  Prince Minho chuckled. 

“I don’t think I will, either.”  You giggled.  “What about you?  What are some lovely things?”

“Well…”  Prince Minho’s lips pressed onto your neck and he hummed.  His hair tickled your skin and you couldn’t help the giggle that came from your throat.  “Your laugh is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.  The smell of old parchment.  Having a warm bath after a hunt.  Biting into a perfectly crisp apple.  Kissing the skin of your beloved.  Pink silk nightgowns.”

Between each offering, your prince pressed a warm kiss on your skin, trailing from your neck to your shoulder.  His fingers gently moved the fabric of your nightgown aside so he could press kisses on all of the skin he could.  You sighed and tilted your head to the side to give him more access.  Your eyes slid shut. 

“Prince Minho,” you sighed when his fingertips traced your collarbones.  

“To you, I am no prince.  I am merely Minho.”  he whispered.  His fingers trailed down your chest to the silk ribbon holding your robe shut, playing with the fabric and running it through the pads of his fingers.  “Will you let me love you?  Let me shower you with my love and bring your body so much pleasure.”

“Pleasure like in the garden?”

“Just like that, but tenfold.”  

Your body trembled with nerves, but you nodded all the same.  Minho pressed soft kisses on your skin and you sighed at the feeling.  He slowly pulled the ribbon free and your robe fell open for him.  He smoothed his hands over your stomach and hips and you sighed at the contact.  You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder and he accepted your weight willingly.  He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. 

“You can say no,”  Prince Minho whispered, “It’s okay.  I can love you in more ways.”

“I want to but… I’m nervous.”  You admitted.  You ached to have him again, if the aching between your legs was anything to go by, but now that the soulmate urge had passed the thought of having something so… big inside of you again made your heart flutter.

“My love, I would never hurt you.  We can take this as slow as you wish.”

You stayed in that position for a few minutes.  Your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you and holding you as close to his body as possible, both of you staring out at the kingdom below.  Your mind wandered, giving you visions of royal life.  Perhaps working in the palace so you could at least be closer to him.  Getting to sleep in his room each night, slipping out in the morning.  You could never be queen.  Joy taught you to read but you never quite understood the classic literature that everyone of noble birth had to read to be educated.  

You imagined attending parties, dressing up, and dancing the night away in beautiful golden ballrooms.  You imagined eating food prepared by the palace cooks each and every morning.  If what the cooks prepared tasted as good as what you had for dinner, you thought you could get used to this life.  Honestly, you didn’t even want to be queen.  Or even a princess.  You just wanted to love him.  Freely.  Openly.  

“All I want is to know you.”  You whispered and Minho hummed to encourage you to keep speaking, “I want to know you inside and out.  I want to grow a partnership,  I want to know what you hate and I want to know what you love.  I want to know how you take your breakfast, how you take your tea, your favorite walking paths, where do you hide when you need to get away from it all?  I don’t want to leave in the morning.”

“Then don’t,”  Prince Minho tried again but he knew your answer, “Stay with me in the palace.  We could figure something out and I will make sure that you stay by my side.”

For a few long seconds, you stayed silent as you contemplated his words.  As the seconds ticked on, Prince Minho heard his answer. 

“I’m sorry, my lord.”  

“Then let us focus on this night.  Let us spend our time focusing on each other.”  Prince Minho turned you around in the circle of his arms so he could gaze upon your face.  His eyes glistened with tears and you wished you could take his pain away.  “Please… call me Minho.”

“Prince-”

“No,” he cut you off, pressing his lips to your forehead for a few seconds, “Just… Minho.”

“Minho…”  You breathed, “Bring me pleasure.  I will bring you pleasure tenfold.  Please.”

“Angel, you never have to ask.”  

His lips crashed onto yours with no more ceremony.  Your heart swelled at the contact and you kissed him back eagerly.  His lips tasted so sweet.  Your favorite sweet could never compare to his taste.  Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pressed you into the balcony railing.  He twisted his head a little and kissed you deeper.  You accepted everything he had to give you.  

Minho put his hands on your shoulders and pushed the robe off.  The fabric pooled around your waist and he started on working the robe off your arms but you pulled away a little. 

“Wait.  Not here.”  You whispered.  Minho pulled away from you.

“No one can see us up here, Angel.” 

“Still… I… I don’t want to lose the robe.  It belongs to my lady.”   You admitted.

“When you are mine, I will give you hundreds of nightgowns made of the finest silk in all the land.”  Minho pressed warm kisses on your jawbone and neck as he spoke, trailing his lips along your skin and leaving trails of fire in his wake. 

“I’m already yours.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

With that, Minho swept you up into his arms and carried you bridal style back into his room.  You yelped when you initially lost your footing but giggled as he carried you.  You held onto him and nuzzled your nose into his neck.  Minho paused in the middle of his room and looked towards the fireplace then towards his bed on the other end of the room.  After a few moments of deliberation, he made his way over to the bed and gently laid you down on the plush mattress.  He was over you in an instant, pressing his knees on either side of your hips. 

“Angel, I want to see you this time.  I want to see all of you.”  

Minho’s hands ran over the fabric of your nightgown.  His eyes trailed over your curves.  His hands moved to gently cup your breasts.  He squeezed them and pushed them together to watch them swell under the fabric.  His thumbs ran over your pebbled nipples and you gasped at the surprisingly pleasant feeling that came from it.  Minho smiled softly and repeated the action again and again, rubbing his thumbs in circles around your nipples.  Your back arched into him and your eyes slid shut so you could enjoy the stimulation.

He moved one of his knees to press at the seam between yours.  Your legs easily fell open to accommodate him.  Minho leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.  He resumed his task of helping the robe off your body.  You assisted him by pulling your arms out of the sleeves and tugging the offending fabric away so it could pool on the ground.  Minho gripped your thighs and worked on pushing the silky fabric up your legs so he could touch your bare skin.  

Your hands busied themselves with pulling his blouse up and over his head.  He broke the kiss briefly to rip his shirt off and toss it on the floor before kissing you again.  He didn’t give you the chance to admire his figure, but your hands traced his strong shoulders and strong chest and abdominal muscles.  

That telltale arousal began to pool between your legs.  The same heat you felt in the garden licked up your spine and made the junction between your legs ache.  Your hips unconsciously rolled upwards, only to catch on Minho’s pants.  The sudden friction made a moan slip from your lips.  Minho pulled away with a gasp.  

“Please make that sound again.  I will worship the ground you walk on.”  Minho moaned out.  He pressed his thigh closer to the apex between your legs until it pressed firmly against your heat.  You gasped at the contact but winced when you remembered that Joy’s silk gown still covered you.  You grasped the skirt and pulled it up over your hips and Minho moaned again.  “Nothing underneath, angel?  Were you hoping I would fuck you?”

Mindlessly, you nodded, choosing not to remind him that it was, in fact, him who ripped your undergarments to the point where they could not be used.  Instead, you pressed your core against his thigh and moaned at the pleasure that sparked through you.  Minho flexed his thigh and urged you to grind against him.  Your hips moved slowly as you got used to the rhythm and the new pleasure.  You whimpered as the pleasure grew but you weren’t sure if you would be able to climax like you did in the garden. 

“More,” you whimpered thoughtlessly.  

“My angel wants more?”  Minho cooed.  He stared down at you with such awe, as if perhaps there was an actual angel below him.  “What do you want?  I shall give it to you.” 

“I…”  you trailed off, your mind going blank, “I don’t know.  I want you to touch me.”

With that, Minho pulled his knee away and pushed your nightgown up to expose your core to him.  Instinctively, you parted your legs a little more.  Minho’s gaze flickered down to your center and pulled his lower lip between his teeth.  Your folds glistened in the low glow from the fireplace across the room.  Minho moved a hand and gently swiped one of his fingers through your folds and brought it to his mouth.  His eyes rolled back in his head at the taste of you.

“Angel, can I taste you properly?”  Minho’s gravely voice sent a wave of arousal through you.

“You just did…”

“I want to put my tongue on you.”  Minho slowly lowered down the bed until his face hovered just above your core, “If it’s too much tell me to stop.”

With that, Minho flattened his tongue against you and your back instantly arched off the bed.  You let out a choked gasp as the dizzying sensation swept through you.  His warm, wet tongue licked through your folds, mapping every ridge and dip and curve.  He swirled his tongue around your opening to gather your wetness in his mouth before he moved up to suck on your clit.  A keening moan left your throat as he sucked and nipped at the little bud.  You couldn’t stop the small moans and gasps you let out as Minho’s tongue played with you.

 “You taste so good, angel.”  Minho moaned.

He licked down to your entrance and slowly wiggled his tongue past the barrier.  He moaned against your core and pushed his tongue deeper into you.  You moaned at the feeling and tilted your hips up to chase his face, as if he had any intention to move.  He lapped at your walls greedily, like a man who’s never tasted water before.  Minho’s eyes slid shut as he savored your warmth in his mouth.  His nose nudged your clit with every few pushes of his tongue and it was enough to build the most amazing feeling in your stomach. 

You recognized that feeling now, it was the same one from the garden.  As if on instinct, you reached for his head to keep him against you before you paused, realizing that this was the prince you were about to touch without permission.  He’d told you a hundred times that you could, but the doubt still hovered.  

As if reading your thoughts, Minho reached up and grabbed your wrist.  He led your hand to the back of his head before hooking his arm under your leg to hold you against him.  Your fingers slid through his silky locks easily.  You gasped out at a particularly harsh suck and you gripped his hair tightly.  Minho let out a moan into your pussy and the vibrations, in turn, made you moan.  

Minho refocused his efforts, moving up to wrap his lips and tongue around your little clit.  His other hand slid between you until his fingertips prodded at your swollen hole.  You gasped at the contact, but tilted your hips up to chase the feeling.  You could feel him smile against you.  The coil within you tightened and you gasped. 

“Aw, sweet girl, are you going to cum?”  Minho cooed.

“Yes!  Yes, please, I need more.”  you moaned out.

“You want my fingers?”  Minho drew a small circle around your hole with a fingertip.

“Fuc- yes!”  You choked out a moan when he pushed one finger into the knuckle. 

“Mm, you’re so tight.”  Minho murmured those last words right against your clit before sucking it into his mouth.  

You were certain you had died and gone to heaven.  The added stimulation of his finger and the incessant swirls of his tongue sent you hurtling towards a release in record time.  Like the wave inside of you, your moans also rose like a crescendo.  Growing in pitch and frequency, you couldn’t hold them back.  You gripped onto Minho’s hair like a lifeline as the pleasure peaked. 

“Cumming- sir!  Sir, I’m cumming, please!”  You all but shrieked as you came into his mouth.  

Your legs shook, even as Minho slowed his ministrations to ride you through it.  Even though he’d just given it to you, he pulled his finger out and moved his face a little lower so he could lap gently at your pulsing hole.  You quivered and moaned as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you until it slowly turned to pain.  After one soft lap, you winced and let go of Minho’s hair. 

He took this as a sign and pulled away from you.  He sat back on his knees and tilted his head back.  He closed his eyes and rested his hands on your legs, just to keep some form of physical contact with you.  You watched as he ran his tongue along his lips as if to gather every single drop of your sweet essence. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.”  Minho commented, opening his eyes once more to look into yours.  

“I want to make you cum, too,”  you declared, sitting up and placing your hands on his hips.  

His noticeable and very neglected erection strained in his pants.  You kept your eyes on his as you moved your palm to gently cup him.  Minho’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact for a moment before he opened them once more to look at you.  He cupped your cheeks in his hands as you palmed him through his pants.

“And you will do so once I am inside of you.”  Minho’s low voice slid easily down your spine and you shivered. 

“But Minho… Can I taste you, too?” 

“How can I say no to that when you’re looking at me so sweetly?”

Minho’s nimble fingers immediately got to work on the laces on his pants.  He flopped down on the bed next to you and worked his pants off his hips until they were a forgotten pile on the floor.  His shirt was thrown on the floor next, leaving him completely bare.  His fingers played with the hem of your nightdress and his eyes twinkled.  

Slowly, you lowered yourself to get a closer look at his cock.  Long, thick, and heavy.  The dark pink head oozed precum and you licked your lips in anticipation.  You could hardly believe that this is the thing that had just been inside of you this morning.  Only a few hours ago, this thing had made you cum so hard and it was about to do it again.  

Unable to wait any longer, you leaned forward to press a wet kiss to the leaking head.  Minho moaned on contact, throwing his head back into the plush pillows as you suckled it into your mouth.  You ran your tongue over the velvety skin, sighing as he leaked more precum.  Salty and musky but overall not unpleasant.  Minho’s deft fingers swept through your hair and pulled it back so it wouldn’t get in the way.  You lifted your gaze to meet his and he just about blew his load right there. 

You looked so sweet, gently sucking on the head of his cock while looking at him innocently through your eyelashes.  Your petal pink nightgown hung down just enough for him to get a clear look at your tits that swelled with each breath.  The sight alone made him moan louder.  

“Am I doing it right?”  You pulled away slightly to blink at him. 

“Fuck, yes.”  He responded, laughing softly, “Keep going.”

Not one to refuse an order from your future king, you lowered your head and put him back in your mouth.  Minho moaned softly, the sweet noise encouraging you to take a little more of him.  Minho panted as he watched you take more and more of him until your nose lightly grazed his stomach.  His tip prodded the back of your throat and you choked a little.  Minho rolled his hips up into your mouth and you let out a little gasp. 

“Run your tongue along it.”  Minho guided you.

You wasted no time and swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock.  You bobbed your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you went.  Occasionally you rose all the way up and sucked on the head like you would a cube of ice on a hot day.  This action would make him whimper and writhe under you.  Every time he made a noise of pleasure, your core clenched and dripped even more for him.  You couldn’t wait to take him again. 

Minho used the grip he had on your hair to guide you up and down his length.  He kept his eyes on your lips as you accepted him into your warm, wet mouth time and time again.  The knot in his stomach kept tensing, threatening to spill his release down your throat but he wasn’t done receiving all the the pleasure your body could give him.  Maybe one day he would paint your face and lips in his cum, but today was not that day, 

All too soon, he pulled you off of him roughly.  He tugged you up to be face to face so that he could kiss you.  His plush lips caressed yours hungrily, coaxing your tongue into his mouth to suck on.  If he minded the salty taste of his precum on your lips, he didn’t say anything.  Just like you didn’t say anything about the taste of yourself on his tongue.  

“If I don’t fuck you right this instant, I may die.”  Minho murmured against your lips.

“How do you want me, my love?”  

“Naked.”

Minho clawed at your nightdress and pulled it over your head.  The flimsy fabric joined the pile on the floor.  The air hit your exposed chest and your nipples perked immediately.  His hands came to gently cup your breasts and he kneaded them slowly.  His thumbs gently traced matching circles around your nipples and pleasure sparked through you with every touch.  You arched your back, pushing your chest into his hands more.  Minho grinned mischievously before he leaned up and closed his lips around one of your hardened buds.

“Oh!”  You gasped as his tongue circled your nipple.  His teeth caught on the sensitive peak and you moaned and threw your head back.  “Minho!”

“Yes, angel, tell me who’s making you feel good.”  Minho whispered as he moved his mouth to your other breast and latched on.  He sucked and swirled his tongue on your nipple like he would die tomorrow and the only thing that could save him was you and the essence you could promise him.  “Just imagine these beautiful works of art filled with milk for our baby, hm?” 

“Yes,”  The thought of bearing his child sent another wave of arousal through you.  Though you knew it would never happen, you decided to let him play into the fantasy.

“My angel, you would look so beautiful.  Giving our baby life, giving me life.”  Minho sucked harshly on your nipple and switched one last time to the other side.  “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tasting you every day.”  

“Minho!”  You moaned when he lightly bit down on your swollen nub. 

“Good girl.”  Minho pulled away with a quiet pop and blew onto your damp skin.  The cold stream of air on your wet breast made you shiver.  “Lay down.  I want to see your face when I enter you.”

You scrambled onto your back, your hands hastily brushing your hair out of your face as Minho crawled over you.  As natural as opening your eyes in the morning, you opened your legs for him.  He smiled as he settled between your thighs.  His cock brushed your inner thigh and you both shuddered at the contact.  He buried his head into your neck and sighed.  He breathed you in, kissing your skin deeply.  

“Minho, please.”  You urged, your hands finding purchase on his slim waist and pulling him closer to you.  Your core ached, wet and empty.  

“I’m going to make love to you now.  If you need me to stop, tell me and I will.”  Minho rolled his hips into yours.  His cock slid through the wet lips of your pussy and caught on the hood of your clit.  

“I never want you to stop.”  

Minho moaned into your neck and kissed his way up to your lips.  He kissed you deeply, dipping your tongue into your mouth to drink in your moans.  One of his hands dipped between your bodies to grasp his cock.  He ran the tip through your soaked pussy, pushing it against your clit to illicit moans and gasps from you.  Each pass made your hole even more soaked and empty.  

“Angel, you feel so good.”

“Put it in.”  You whined. 

Minho pulled back from you just enough so that he could watch your face when he pushed into you.  The head breached your hole and you let out a keening moan.  Your hooded eyes watched his face contort into pleasure as he slowly inched inside of you.  His length caressed your walls as he sunk in, inch by glorious inch.  His eyes never left yours, even when he hit a dead end.  

He bottomed out, his thighs pressed firmly into yours.  You could have sworn the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat.  

“You look so beautiful when you’re full of my cock.”  Minho moaned.  His skin was tinted a rose color and the vein in his neck looked close to popping.  “You’re so tight, Angel, I could cum right now.”  

“So full,” you choked out, hardly able to form words around the stretch of him in your cunt.  

“Wanna fill you up even more, Angel.”  Minho buried his face in the crook of your neck again.  He rocked into you slowly, hardly even moving at all.  If he moved too much too fast he was worried that he would cum far too quickly.  Your tight heat choked his cock and coated him in your sweet wetness.  His slight movements in and out of you made your pussy squelch around him.  

“Move,”  You begged.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”  Minho promised. 

With that, he pulled his hips back until just his head remained sheathed by your walls.  Then he pushed forwards with all the force he could muster and your combined moans were like music.  Your cunt clamped onto his cock as he fucked you with earnest.  He rolled his hips into yours slowly but with so much force behind them that you were sure you’d be sore tomorrow. 

Tonight, you couldn’t care less. 

You rolled your hips up to meet every thrust.  Minho’s precise thrusts rubbed against all of the perfect spots inside of you.  His girth stretched you wide and you wondered how it was possible that there would be enough room inside of you for his cum.  

Minho wasn’t faring with that thought any better.  Your tight cunt gripped him like a vice.  Every time he entered you, you clenched so tightly that he was worried that every thrust might be his last.  The last time he fucked you, things had gone by quickly and he hadn’t had the time to really feel you.  This time, he was careful with his thrusts so he could feel every inch of your slick walls around his aching cock.  Your walls clenched and clamped onto him.

“Angel, you feel so good,”  Minho moaned, leaning down to suck a mark into your neck, “I don’t think I’ll last.”

“Me either.”

You were surprised with how quickly the pleasure mounted within you.  Your core ached like before, but this wasn’t a quick fuck like in the rose garden.  Minho was making sure that you could feel every single inch of him and that he could feel every ridge and bump of your walls. 

When he fucked you behind the rose bushes it was quick and rushed.  He’d pounded into you like he was going to die if he didn’t.  The orgasm he’d coaxed you through was powerful and quick. 

This, however, was the exact opposite of that.  Each movement was slow and calculated.  Each deliberate roll of his hips made you shudder with pleasure.  It was like he was trying to get his entire cock into you with every thrust while also taking the time to feel every inch.  

“Faster,”  you choked out.

“Want to feel you, angel.”  Minho grunted, “Want to feel you cum on my cock.  Can you do that?” 

“I-it’s too much-”  you choked after a particularly brutal thrust.

“Come on, love, I know you can do it.”

Minho’s hands trailed down your body, to your legs, to hook under the back of your knees.  He hiked your legs up until you had your ankles hooked behind his back.  This gave him a new angle to thrust into you.  His pubic bone grazed deliciously against your clit with every pass.  You were certain that you would lose consciousness at any moment.

“I can’t.”  You sighed out.

“It’s okay, angel.  Just relax and let me take care of you.”  Minho urged.

Only moments later, the string in your tummy pulled taut.  You moaned softly into his neck as he delivered each of his perfect thrusts.  Your back arched off the bed and you pushed your hips up to meet his.  This created the most beautiful and intense pressure in your cunt.  

“You’re squeezing me so tight!  Are you about to come?”  Minho moaned into your ear and you nodded.  “Good girl, let me feel it.”

It was like your body waited for his command.  Your orgasm crashed over you and you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your head back and letting out the loudest moan of the night.  Minho continued fucking you through it, chanting words of praise into your ear.  Your cunt squeezed the dear life out of him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last.  You tightened your legs around him in order to keep him inside you. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, “I’m going to come inside of you, mark you as mine so you keep a piece of me with you wherever you go.”

“Yes,” You moaned out, still shaking through your powerful orgasm.  

It was all the confirmation he needed to bury himself as deep inside you as he could to release.  The warm sensation of cum filling you up spread through your belly.  Your pussy spasmed around his length, milking him for every single drop.  He thrusted into you shallowly a few times until he was completely empty.  

Finally, your legs dropped from around his waist and he took that as a sign to carefully pull out of your spent hole.  Minho sat up on his knees to watch as his softening cock left your tight hole.  His cock was coated with your slick and shone in the low light from the fireplace.  

He collapsed on the bed next to you and wasted no time in pulling you into him.  Minho held you tightly, neither of you minding the tacky stick of your sweat-slicked skin.  You clung to him as well, burying your face into his neck.  Together, you came down from your highs, breathing hard and holding one another tight. 

“Please stay.”  Minho whispered into your hair, “I won’t command it, but will you please stay with me until dawn?”

“Yes, Minho.  I promise, I’ll stay.”

~!~!~!~!~!~

THE CALL OF the rooster roused you from your sleep well before you were ready.  Your eyes peeled open and the sun had barely even kissed the horizon.  You sighed and pushed the blankets away and sat up.  You glanced up at the pink silk nightgown that hung from your door.  Lady Joy refused to let you give it back, but you couldn’t bear to wear it again.

Gone were the fine silks and wools of the Prince’s palace bedroom.  Here to stay were your maids quarters with its scratchy sheets and windows that you could never quite get clean.  You gently lifted your hand to touch your lips.  Those very lips had touched the Prince’s months ago.  

Slipping out of bed that morning had nearly gutted you, but you redressed in your lady’s silk gown and returned to her quarters.  All before the prince even awoke.  

Eons ago.  The ball and the roses and the gowns were eons ago.  So why did you still feel his touch on your skin?  Why could you still hear the orchestra playing the waltz that your prince whisked you away to?  

You were thankful that his wedding bells hadn’t rung on your day off for the month.  Lady Joy attended the ceremony but left you at home with a long list of chores to complete.  Most of them were mindless busywork but she knew to keep you distracted.  

Since the ceremony, life simply returned to normal.  Your daily tasks resumed and you cared for your lady to the best of your ability.  Which, as of late, was not much.  Lady Joy did her best to be accommodating, which you were more than thankful for. You just wanted to get back to work.  You had a feeling that the grace she was giving you was beginning to frustrate her mother.  

You forced yourself out of bed and you quickly dressed.  You swallowed down the wave of nausea that climbed up your throat and made your way to Lady Joy’s chambers.  The curtains were drawn and the embers of a fire crackled in the fireplace.  Lady Joy was curled up in the center of the bed, fast asleep.  Her light snores provided some white noise as you rekindled the fire and prepared her vanity for her morning routine.  

Eventually, you flung open the curtains and the warm light from the sun streamed into the room.  You sighed as it hit your skin, basking in the warmth for a few moments.  Joy groaned behind you and shoved her head under her pillow. 

“Rise and shine, my Lady.  You have many duties to attend to today.”  You chided her. 

“Like what?”  Joy groaned, muffled by the pillow.

“There is a tea party this afternoon.  Duchess Loh is hosting and is expecting your attendance.  Then Lady Mina is requesting your presence at dinner this evening.”  You explained, moving from the drapes to the closet.  You threw open the doors and perused the gowns available for the day.  You were admittedly a little behind in your laundry.

“I think we should cancel.”  Joy groaned, “I’m feeling quite ill today.”

“Ill?  Are you alright?”  You retreated from the closet to sit on the edge of her bed.

“My stomach is turning.  I’ve been feeling ill for several days.”  Joy gently rubbed her stomach.  “It usually passes in the evening but perhaps dinner disagreed with me?”

“For the last several days?  That sounds quite serious.  Perhaps I should call for the doctor?”  You cleared your throat, wondering if you should tell her that you’d been feeling the exact same way. 

“Perhaps it is simply the pain of my courses.  I’m supposed to bleed soon, right?”  Joy finally pulled her face from the pillow and sat up. 

“Have you not begun yet?”

“No…”  Joy trailed off.  “Oh, lord have mercy.  The ball was three months ago now, right?”

“I suppose so.  Oh no…”  You trailed off, “My Lady, what happened when I left for the Prince’s chambers?”

“I… made a promise not to say a word.”  Joy chewed on her lower lip, “Sir Peter came to find me.  We had such a stimulating conversation and he wanted to continue it.  It was an accident, but we touched and…”

“Lady Joy!”  You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, “Why has he not come to call?”

“He’s from Rome, like our princess.  He left the next morning.”  Joy wailed, a dam breaking within her and her tears flowed down her cheeks.  “Dear Y/N, I am so sorry I didn’t tell you!  I thought you wouldn’t want to hear it after everything with the prince and-”

“You need not apologize to me, my Lady.”  You took her in your arms and patted her hair while she cried for a few minutes,  “I know it must be so difficult to be without him.”

“It feels like my heart has been torn from my chest!” 

“My Lady, please let me fetch the doctor.  If you are with child then we must know.  While he’s here, I think he should see me, too.”  You winced as you spoke.

Lady Joy pulled away from you instantly, her eyes as wide as saucers.  Her eyes dipped from your face down to your stomach.  You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was seriously possible that both of you were with child at the same time.  You hadn’t experienced the nausea that most women report but you noted that your courses were late last month, and certain smells that once pleased you were now nauseating.  

“Would that mean that…”  Joy trailed off. 

“I believe so, miss.”

“Fetch the doctor.”  Joy scrambled out of bed and threw the drapes closed.  “And… fetch mother.  I fear we will need to retire to the countryside for the rest of the season.”

Your hand drifted to your stomach, now churning with fear.  You met Joy’s eyes and for a moment.  Anxiety swirled between you as the consequences of your actions hovered over your shoulders.  

For a moment, both you and Joy remained still.  

Then, you did what you do best.  You rose to your feet and walked head-first into your duties and your future.  Without your prince.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Private Show | minsung x fem!reader | version.1

you're a dancer at an exclusive establishment where you perform for kpop idols in masks. Minho and Jisung are after a specific kind of private show from you.

v.2 is unhinged

cw: unrprotected p in v sex, blow job, creampie, cum swallowing.

The exclusive establishment was one of your favourites to perform at. Boudoir meets cabaret meets masquerade party.

The show only allowed up to ten guests per night, and each of them had to wear masks to obscure their identity.

A lot of attendees were kpop idols. It was a place where they could enjoy this kind of performance without the risk of being recognised.

After the main performances came the individual private and semi-private shows. These took place in various sets such as a bedroom, dressing room, a mini stage and a bar lounge.

In addition to the mask rule, the other rules were no touching (the performers or themselves), and no full nudity.

Of course there wasn’t much left up the imagination though because they mostly performed in lingerie.

Tonight you were taking the bedroom / boudoir themed set, and your audience was two young idols.

You summoned the pair into your boudoir where there was a lavish four poster bed, and a gorgeous plush rug on the floor. French style painting were hung on the walls, and 2 velvet tub style armchairs were positioned a short distance from the foot of the bed.

You gave your best, most enthusiastic, most sexy performance for the two men before you, whilst they sat perfectly still. Every now and then the taller one would bring his hand to his mouth like he was deep in thought. The shorter, would fidget in his seat whenever you did anything “extra” sexy.

After you'd finished your performance, you look at the two men with a seductive pose. It is the perfect finishing touch.

One of the men wordlessly stood up and walked over to the ensure the door is locked. This is absolutely against the rules, but you knew who the two men were.

You recognised the men’s bodies. You could see their hair. Their mannerisms were obvious. Fuck they were even wearing clothes you'd seen before! And their mouths! You couldn’t mistake Jisung’s sneer, or Minho’s mouth and the way it would hang open in awe.

Maybe they weren’t trying to hide their identities? Maybe they were only wearing the mask because it was the rules of the venue?

The tension was thick. You felt both vulnerable and powerful. The silence was communicating one glaringly obvious thing - they wanted more than just a private show.

Minho moved from the door to the music player, setting it to some sultry French music, and Jisung sat with his arms hanging over the chair arms and you could see his eyes boring into you from behind the mask.

Minho came to sit on the bed beside you, and Jisung dragged the tub armchair closer to the bed making you have to bend your knees and lift your feet up out of the way. He sat back on the chair taking you gently by the ankles and placing them on the seat on either side of his legs. Your breath hitched at having your legs parted like this.

Minho took your chin gently in your hand, an turned your head so you're were facing him. You looked down to his lips. They were parted as though he was in awe with you. His hand landed on your stocking clad thigh and he growled as gripped it harder, suddenly looking hungry as he leaned forward and took you in a kiss.

For second your mind was going crazy with so many thoughts at once. “What is happening?”, “this can’t be happening”, “This shouldn’t be happening”, “ Oh fuck… it’s happening”, “It feels good”, “I want more”.

Minho slowly lowered you down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. At the same time you felt Jisung’s hands slide up your thighs.

You were normally a confident and strong woman, but right then these men made you melt. This feeling was new. It was confusing. It was concerning that they could make you swoon like this. Especially when only minutes before you were the one in control.

“Tell me kitten,” said Minho from behind his his mask. “Do you give other idols performances like this?” His thumb brushed your lip. Jisung’s hands explored her inner thighs, making your pussy gush.

Minho kissed your neck, his breath hot. “Do you dance like that for Chan? Or Hyunjin?”

You let out a whimper. “I dance like that for everyone.” you panted.

Minho’s hands were all over you. Jisung’s fingers had reached your lace underwear. His finger stroked your clit through the lace. you're so wet. He’d have to feel it.

“You dance like that for everyone… but we want you to do more than dance for us.” He peppered kisses across your collarbone.

“We’re tired of having to keep our distance. We’re tired of pretending you don’t turn us on.” Added Jisung.

“But, this… this is inappropriate - ” you protested.

Minho pulled away and took off his mask. “Do you want us to stop?” He looked at you seriously. Jisung’s movements halted.

“Because if you don’t want us to stop, there’s so much Jisung and I want to do to you”. He doesn’t break eye contact. “We’re tired of not being able to be close to you, or look at you, or touch you.”

The look in Minho’s eyes conveyed so much want and need. You glanced down to Jisung who had also discarded his mask, and met his questioning eyes.

You looked back and forth between the two desperate men and bit your lip.

“Please… keep going.” You didn't recognise your own voice.

It all happened so fast.

Minho was back on your mouth with his. Your underwear was pushed to the side and Jisung’s wet, eager tongue dove deep into your pussy. The men’s hands caressed your entire body. It felt like heaven.

“Please… what do want to do with me? How do you want me?” You whimpered breathlessly. The desire to be helpless and taken overpowered any rational thought.

Minho broke the kiss and looked into your eyes. “Can I watch Jisung fuck you?” His voice was deep and husky.

Your cunt clenched at the thought.

You looked down to Jisung and nodded. His eyes were fixed on yours as he stood and removed his belt. He swiftly freed his hard cock, and looked down at your pussy. With one hand he pulled your lace underwear aside, and with the other he dragged his cock through your folds, before sinking himself into you.

“Fuck, baby…” he choked as he began to move.

“Ji, how does she feel?” Minho asked his eyes focused on watching Jisung’s cock appearing and disappearing into you. He licked his lips when Jisung withdrew and he could see your wetness glistening on his cock.

“So fucking wet…and tight… you’ve wanted this as much as us haven’t you, baby?” He panted.

You looked to Minho and palmed his erection through his pants. Minho hissed, then smirked “You want my cock too, huh?” He cooed.

You nodded, licking your lips. Why did you have to seem so needy? “Want your cock.”

Minho released his aching dick and straddled your chest, offering the head of his penis towards your mouth.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around it and took him in your mouth. His cock was perfect. “Jesu-fuck… oh god you take me so well, kitten.”

You picked up the pace, putting all your enthusiasm into pleasuring him. You cried around his cock suddenly, when Jisung changed the angle of his thrusts.

Minho decided he needed to come at you from the side so he could watch Jisung again. He got even harder when he saw Jisung pick up the pace, thrusting into you hard.

"Such a pretty little slut. Just for us." he taunted you. "Falling apart so easily on our cocks, hmm."

Minho reached down to rub your clit, sending you over the edge and making you come so fucking hard that you saw stars.

"So needy." Minho smirked. "So fucking perfect."

The sight of you falling apart was too beautiful for the two men, and they came within seconds of each other. Jisung deep in your pussy and Minho in your mouth.

Jisung pulled out and climbed on top of you, kissing you deeply, taking some of Minho’s cum for himself. He peeled away from your mouth. “You’re ours now.” He whispered deviously, then gave you a big gummy grin.

“Only ours.” Minho agreed.

a/n: this was an old story I wrote that I've updated a little bit. I also have another version where reader doesn't know who is behind the mask and it's much raunchier than this story. I think they double pen her... I need to find it an update it. Should I share it on the blog?

version 2, unhinged

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

[funkynumaki]

Identity V fingering headcanon (PT.1 (?))

Characters included; Luca Balsa, Andrew Kreiss, Mike Morton, Victor Grantz

A/N: this is my first post + my first time writing smut so I apologize if it's not the best!

Warning: fingering (g), praise (r, g), dacryphilia on Andrew and Victor's!, dom!reader x sub!characters

_________________________________________

|| Luca Balsa

- when you first brought it up he'd be surprise, but he's thrilled to try it out.

- the first time, he'd fidget a lot trying to get used to the feeling of your fingers inside him but when he's comfortable enough he's really into it.

- he wouldn't even hide his noises, it really shows how much he enjoys it.

- "are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, still a bit uncertain. Giving him a chance to back down if he's uncomfortable with it. But, instead Luca nod looking at your lube covered fingers as it line itself on his hole. ".. Yeah.. Go on" He said, already out of breath. You nod at his approval, your finger find themselves sliding inside his hole. You could almost immediately feel him clench around you as his grip tightened. "F-fuck-..." He let out a small moan at the feeling trying to get used to it. He leaned his head to the crook of your neck, his dick throb at the sensation of being filled by your fingers. "Did it hurt?" You ask, willingly to stop if the pain is unbearable for him. Your fingers stopping their movement inside him. "Yeah.. A bit.. Don't stop. Please.." He whine when he feel your movement stopping inside him which followed by your smile of relief that you didn't hurt him. Your fingers pick up its pace again with each passing second he grow more and more comfortable with having your fingers inside of him. Starting to let out louder breathy moan as he lean in to get more contact with you.

"O-ohh fuck-! Please.. S'fuckin-good-..!"

|| Andrew Kreiss

- would be very hesitant, so getting him comfortable enough to agree will need a trustful relationship.

- he's so sensitive, he has no experience with any intimate moment so it's best if you start slow with him.

- the first time he feel your finger inside him, he's already shaking from pleasure. Moaning and whimpering your name while at the same time trying to covered his mouth to prevent himself from making noise.

- "a-ahh... Ple-ase-.." He whine as your finger continues to thrust in and out of his hole. Your movement is still slow and gentle, as he hide his face on the crook of your neck. Trying to mask the noises that's about to fall from his lips. "Please what, love? I want to hear you say it.." You cooe in his ear, your tone can be heard as a need for him to just tell you his desire that he's been trying to mask. Andrew's dick twitch as he feel your finger slowly starting to thrust a bit faster. "I- need y-you.. Please... Ne-need you s'bad..!" He begged feeling you fasting up your movement. His head fall back as he let out a soft cry. "Does it make you feel good, love?" You smirk feeling him clench around your fingers not wanting to lose contact to it. "Use your words" You whisper in his ear, reminding him.

"Y-yes... Love it-love it s'much--! Please... I-i need it-"

|| Mike Morton

- he was actually the one who brought it up, mostly because he had been edging in his seat to ask you to try it with him since forever. Which of course, you agree.

- feeling your finger inside him, he'd let out a choked moan. He was expecting it to feel good, but not this good.

- would buck his hips to get more sensation of your finger inside him.

- "oh shit..-" Mike let out a choked moan as he throw his head back, your finger sliding in and out of his hole in a faster pace than before. "You enjoy this way more than I expect you to" You whisper in his ear, loving his reaction. Mike mosn loud as he lean in closer to you, his teeth sinking on your skin. His body shake from the pleasure. "S'good-! Fu.. Ck-! Please-please-!m-more-nh" He whine out, bucking his hips lower to get more friction from your finger, watching his desperate plead you chuckle. Mike lean in closer to you wrapping his hand around your shoulder as he nip your neck. His mind too clouded to form an actual sentence. You smile fasting up your pace, your finger brushing against his prostate "Beg more then, love" You cooe softly.

"Please-pl-ngh-ease.. -! Want you s'bad--! S'good-..!a-ahh--"

|| Victor Grantz

- he was surprised when you ask him to try it, but there's almost nothing Victor wouldn't do for you.

- he's eager to please you, so when you decide to change up a notch and please him he was taken a back, but he'll do it as long as it makes you happy.

- he wasn't expecting what he just feel being fingered by you, the way his mind starts to get numb. And how it felt so good he can't even registered it for a moment.

- "aww.. Look at how adorable you are like that, f'me?" You cooe, trailing kisses on Victor's neck to his collarbone. If it was possible, there would be small hearts flying on top of his head, he was at pure bliss. "S'good... I-ilove-yo-mu.. Ahh--! Ch!" He cries out, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as your finger thrust deeper. "Be a good boy for me and tell me how much I'm pleasing you, right now, why don't'cha?" You grin, nipping on his neck, leaving some love marks on his neck. His head thrown back, as he arch his back when your finger brush against his prostate. "S'good.. Please-- L-love.. You-so mu-angh--!" You chuckle at his attempt at forming a sentence. Teasing him even more you lean in closer to his ear. "What's that? I don't bear you the first time, love"

"Ple-ahh-! It's s'good.. -you're s'good--! I-loveyou.. so-mahh-uch...--!"

____________________________________

request are open!

[hazyange1s]

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”