#if anyone said that about anyone else people would be dropping to their knees for them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

01zfan · 4 months ago

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peach fuzz | l. at

camp counselor!anton x camp counselor!reader | 12k words

this fic took everything out of me omfg…so much fun to write and i loved writing it too. i listened to peach fuzz by tyler the creator, juke jam by chance the rapper, birds of a feather by billie eilish, and words by passenger while writing this.

contains: the ups and downs of friendship, cheating, protected sex (BE LIKE THEM)

anton learned through the gentle pushes from his parents that no kid his age should’ve avoided other people like the plague. when anton’s teachers would clear their throats while he was talking he knew it wasn’t normal for him to have such a soft voice. he couldn’t stop himself from clamming up when adults in sterile offices and white lab coats asked him questions about the friends he didn’t have.

anton didn’t know anyone else like him existed until he met you.

even if the doctor told his parents not to overreact and that anton could’ve simply just been painfully shy, they did not take well to the news. within a week anton was dropped off at summer camp. apparently the solution to an anxious child was to ship them off to an unfamiliar environment with kids they’ve never met before for nine weeks.

anton had to be bribed to leave the car, and he clung to his mother’s leg and dragged his feet on the gravel as he trudged in her shadow. he watched kids dressed in the same khaki shorts and the same camp ridgewood on their shirts. when kids got too close to his safe space anton only nestled further into his mother, so much to the point that he wrinkled her dress pants.

“and i’m guessing you're anton?”

at the sound of someone else calling his name besides his parents anton froze. he slowly turned around from the screaming kids to face the lady sitting at the table. she wore the same thing as anton, except she had camp counselor stitched into her hat and a name badge hanging from her neck. anton could barely see her over the table and the camp ridgewood banner that hung from it. anton heard his parents repeat her name but didn’t dare to say it out loud as he kept half of his body hidden behind his mother.

“anton, don’t be rude, say hi!” his mom said.

all anton could do was shake his head and burrow further into her side. the lady at the desk didn’t try pushing him to answer, and she didn’t ask his parents if he could speak. she only peaked underneath the desk briefly before looking back to anton and smiling.

“i have a friend i’d like for you to meet. i think you two will get along very well.” she said.

anton watched the lady beckon to him. the promise of a friend was enticing, but it was not enough to leave the comfort of his mother’s leg. his hands had to be manually pried from her pants and he had to be guided behind the table by his dad’s hand on his shoulder.

anton dragged his feet, half-expecting to see the same doll that was in all the doctor’s offices. but to his surprise—and his parents—he saw you underneath the table. years down the road his mom would describe you as a frightened dog, wide eyed and ready to attack while you slunk to a shaded corner of the table.

anton thought you looked polite.

you had your chin resting on your knees while you readjusted the strap on your shoe a million times. you looked apprehensive at the three pairs of unfamiliar adult eyes staring you down. the sound of velcro ripping only ceased when you looked at anton.

anton’s parents were surprised again when they heard their son read your name out loud. you nodded silently and looked for his name tag. they gasped when anton sat down next to you after you silently made room for him underneath the check-in desk.

after that, you two were inseparable. when given the option to either sink or swim both of you became solid rocks. you sank to the bottom of the ridgewood lake together. you two you were both picked last for all the sports and no one knew your names, only referring to you two as “the quiet ones”. people had to fight tooth and nail to get a response from either one of you. both of you were believed to be mute, something that had to be debunked by your parents and the sole camp counselor who heard you both speak.

your soft spoken attitudes and meek demeanor was a match made in heaven. everyone believed you two communicated telepathically, like there were magnets constantly keeping you two close together. you two were inseparable for the nine weeks you spent together at camp. when the summer camp came to an end and you two had to be (forcefully) separated, anton didn’t speak for a month in protest and he cried all the way home. rocks were trapped between the soles of his feet and his sandals from planting his feet in the ground.

the next summer you both found eachother again. you didn’t wear velcro shoes anymore and anton could look adults in the eye now. no time had passed between the two of you, the moment you saw eachother everything felt like it was back in place—that’s the only way anton knew how to describe what he felt then.

you two saw eachother at camp again the next summer when anton started becoming lanky and uncoordinated and you started speaking up for yourself.

then the summer after that when anton became the tallest camper and you both became too shy to comment on the growing tension and the profuse apologies after making the slightest physical contact.

time continued to pass and you two continued to change, but that feeling only grew. anton no longer cowered behind his mother and he was able to make friends his own age, but he felt shy at the mere thought of you. even if anton grew out of his debilitating meekness like the doctors said he would, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he got when he was around you. like impending doom or something looming over him but it made him as happy as it did sick. he convinced himself that all friends felt that way about eachother. he also convinced himself that all friends needed to hear the other’s voice to fall asleep and that the blush appearing across his face constantly was normal.

before you both knew it, your last summer as campers came. you went from the youngest to the oldest. you guys wore a different colored shirt than the rest of the campers and all the counselors seemed to include the word final into every sentence.

anton started feeling a pit form in the bottom of his stomach when the camp counselors started acting like the senior campers were going to die and be buried at the lake. he even imagined the procession, all of the adults wearing black veils as they said their final comments about each camper. when they would get to him they would just shake their heads before saying here lies anton, the one that never made a move and never will because he’s going to college upstate while she’s staying to go to community college. and he actually asked to be buried alive.

“anton.” the sound of bottles clanking together in taesan’s backpack brought him back to their shared cabin. “you ready?” he asked.

the only thing that distracted anton from the end of summer camp was his fellow campers becoming increasingly daring. there was an unspoken rule that as you aged up in the camp, you had more freedom. it was a silent agreement between the older campers and the counselors, a sign of respect and something similar to carrying on a tradition. the only rule—which was ironically the first thing broken—was that they couldn’t be reckless. so each night the older campers would wait until lights out so the counselors could deny culpability and sneak off into the forest so they could do exactly that.

if he was being honest, anton didn’t have a taste for alcohol and he didn’t enjoy the idea of being out in the dark unknown so late at night. he preferred to be in his sweaty cabin instead of being eaten alive by the mosquitos and the idea of being caught, but each night before lights out you would text anton you coming out? and he couldn’t stop himself from sending back a yes, as long as you are there. (you always were, sitting across the campfire from anton with a drink in your hand and talking to all the friends you made over the years).

“here, take this.” taesan said, handing anton a case of beer.

anton’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he hesitated to grab the case. his roommate had to shake the case towards him and raise his eyebrows before anton replaced taesan’s hand with his.

“how the hell did you sneak this onto camp?” anton asked.

he asked the same question everyday and got the same answer. each time taesan would just shrug his shoulders and say i have my connects with a smirk on his face.

(it was the spirits store owner thirty minutes away who always likened taesan to a korean kurt cobain.)

after anton shook his head and walked outside, he saw his fellow campers one by one sneak out of their cabins to head towards the forest. the quiet symphony of twigs snapping underneath creeping feet filled the air but no one awoke or thought to investigate. anton remembered being so scared his first day of camp all those years ago that he didn’t go to sleep. while he was looking out the window trying to will his mom miles away to come pick him up he saw the then senior campers walking into the forest the same way he was now. he would’ve never thought that he would end up becoming one of them, especially the one that helped supply the alcohol. but he was easily swayed by your smile and the cheers of his fellow campers as he doled out beers to anyone with their hand out.

anton saved the last beer in his hand for you as he pointlessly used it for bait to lure you from the other side of the campfire to the spot right beside him.

if someone where to ask, the two of you would agree you didn’t know how it happened. adrenaline and alcohol made the night fuzzy for you both—all you guys could really recall was the crackling sound of the campfire and other campers talking. both of you could’ve been catching up with the people you would probably never see again, but instead you and anton opted to sit so close that the sides of your sweaty thighs were glued together and your shoulders bumped anytime either of you laughed. you two couldn’t be bothered to talk to anyone else, jumping from topic to topic while subconsciously swatting away bugs that got too close.

you two would’ve told everyone that as the night progressed you both slurred on about college, coming back to camp, and everything that happened in between. anton would withhold that he was grateful he could blame his rosy cheeks on the fire and the beer in his hand when you shyly said you were going to miss him. anton would’ve omitted the adrenaline rush he got when he held eye contact with you for longer than three seconds to tell you that he would find a way to keep in touch. he felt significantly drunker when you told him that you were his bestfriend and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

anton remembers the campfire burning down to just the embers and taesan putting half empty bottles of hard liquor back in his bag and sohee telling everyone else it was time to call it a night. he remembers feeling cold even in the muggy heat of summer after you got up from sitting beside him, but he remembers feeling warm when your soft hand grabbed his to lift him up from the tree trunk you two sat on. he remembers not letting go of your hand and you intertwining your fingers with his, and how you squeezed so tight you left crescent moon shaped impressions on the back of his hand. he remembers you looking mischievously towards the rest of the group in front of you before pulling him off the beaten path. anton remembers widening his eyes before your face silently begged him to trust you. he remembers following behind you a second later, led by your hand as you headed deeper into the forest.

anton remembers the leaves tickling his face and the silence of the night as he followed behind you. just as he was lost in the forest anton remembers feeling your hands move to his chest as you pushed him against the trunk of the tree. he remembers the twigs poking into his back as you quickly pressed you lips against his. just as the shock settled and anton’s hands clutched at your camp shirt you pulled away.

“are we gonna remember this?” you asked breathlessly.

anton grabbed your bare thigh in his hand as he clumsily lifted the leg and pressed into the small of your back to bring you closer. he swallowed thickly, trying to remember your soft lips and the taste of liquor mixed with your spit in the short amount of time.

“i’ll forget if you want me to.” anton murmured.

so when you nodded your head before crashing your lips on his again with more fervor anton forced himself to forget. he forgot your giggling voice and how you leaned into his side and wrapped your hand around his waist. anton forgot about the twigs loudly snapping under his heavy feet and your hands that greedily pressed into his chest and stomach. he forced himself to forget how he kissed you until he was dizzy and out of breath, and he forgot the way you had to wipe your lips with the back of your hand. he forced himself to forget the million drunken kisses he pressed to the back of your hand and your fingers that prodded his flesh. he forgot about how welcoming your dark room seemed behind you and the regret on your face when you told him goodnight.

anton didn’t know he had the right to remember until you came by his cabin the next night. seeing you in the dead of the night was the first time anton had seen you all day. anton knew you were avoiding him, and in an effort to remain casual he let you do it. he had to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach each time you would avoid his eyes or suddenly cut to a different direction than him.

you were both staring at echother wide eyed, trying to see who the first would be to remember. trying to forget was useless when you bit your lip to try and find the words. the only thing anton could think about was how he ran his tongue over your top row of teeth before you tilted your head and stuck your tongue in his mouth. your eyes were focused on anton’s chest as the memories came back to you too.

“i don’t want to ruin our friendship.” you said quietly.

senior campers walked by anton’s cabin towards the forest in a mass exodus. they were too busy trying to go undetected to notice you two staring at eachother in the doorway of anton’s cabin. in that moment, with the lightning bugs and the overwhelming unsaid it seemed like it was only you two. there was a party that was about to go on, and it would be the first party of the summer that you would miss. anton had another case of beer to hand out but he couldn’t be bothered. he had the chance to be alone with you for the next hour and he wanted to be completely sober.

he backed into the darkness of his cabin and you followed after him step for step like you were lost in a trance. you closed the door behind you and let yourself get caged between anton and the wall.

“nothing is going to change.” anton said before grabbing you the same way he did before.

anton was right. for that last week of camp nothing changed between the two of you. you were the same inseparable pair in the daytime and it was the same at night. the only difference was that you and anton found yourselves sneaking around at night to kiss eachother on the lips. sometimes you would be straddling anton’s hips on a recliner in your cabin while you pulled at his shirt and other times you would be underneath him while he gripped your waist. you two were able to convince yourselves you were getting closer through the intimacy. what was a better way to learn about your friend than to kiss them for hours on end?

the last week of camp, kissing was the only thing on your minds. anytime anton would speak you would forget to listen to the words coming out. anton’s head was constantly on a swivel trying to follow your every move. the final days passed right by the both of you. seeing you stuff your final bag into the backseat of your parents car hit anton like a freight train. you two spent all your time kissing that you didn’t talk about the future. time was out and all you two could do was hope the last kiss you shared the night prior was enough.

“i’ll see you later, anton.” you said.

tears stung your eyes and anton felt a lump forming in his throat. he wished he could kiss you. he imagined your heart was slamming in your chest the same way it was the night before.

“i’ll call you.” anton nodded his head in an effort to shake off that sinking feeling. “every night.” he added.

anton kept his promise. he called you on the way back home, he called you even when he had nothing else to say. he called you when he moved into his dorm, and you were the first person to see his finished side of the room after he set all of his things up. your voice became a lifeline for anton while he adjusted to his surroundings.

he discovered that rich kids who went to ivy leagues were undeniably dense, almost as if they didn’t know people existed outside of their tax bracket.

anton still remembers the looks on his peers faces when they found out where he was from. he was able to hide that he grew up surrounded in the remote boonies where everyone wore true camouflage and drove large pickup trucks. anton credited it to the fact that he didn’t have a heavy country accent due to his parents actually being from new jersey. he grew up with a lack of southern influence in his home, so much so that he didn’t realize he would miss it until he went up north for school. no one knew about southern hospitality or the comforting idleness of being surrounded by nothing but open road and livestock. anton was overstimulated his entire freshman year—he had nothing to do his whole life then suddenly he could do everything. he could get his ear pierced in a store the size of a closet then go thrifting down the block and go to a tourist spot all within the hour. anton loved having things to do, but he missed the simplicity of the countryside. he liked the lack of choice, the fact that there was only three things to do and you needed a car to do any of them.

you seemed to be the only one who understood him. each night he would talk about his day and end it with talking about his clueless peers. he talked your ear off while he laid on his side with his phone balancing on his cheek. he kept going even through your sounds of acknowledgment. anton didn’t realize he was ranting until it was late into the night and your voice started sounding light and airy.

anton knew that he should’ve hung up after he realized what time it was. but your voice sounded so sweet when you were assuring him that he would find people like him the longer he stayed in there. but anton didn’t want anyone else besides you. he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he imagined you with him in the city everyday, and that he had a page on his notes app filled with places he wanted to take you to. anton moved to his back to stare at his ceiling when he remembered that’s how you always laid in bed. he adjusted the phone in his hand and held it close to his ear.

“how are you, though?” anton asked quietly.

“hmm.” your voice was even more quiet. your hums were barely picked up by your phone’s receiver as you tried thinking about the current highlights of your life. “community college is easy. like alarmingly easy.” you said.

both you and anton laughed into your phones at the confusion in your voice. he wondered if you made the face you always made when he would laugh at one of your jokes. anton wondered if you were sleeping next to your plushies he bought you or if you had pulled your covers up to your chin.

“i miss you alot though.” you said honestly.

then he wondered what you were wearing. maybe you had on that cute two-piece set that you always wore to camp or maybe it was so hot in your room that you wore nothing.

“did you hear what i said?”

anton pulled himself from his musings at your question. you sounded more awake than before, and the interrogating tone of your voice made anton perk up from across the country.

“i wasn’t listening.” anton said sheepishly. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, you must be tired.” you said.

anton heard you shuffle in your bed and he wondered if you were checking the time on your bedside clock.

there was complete silent on your side of the line before anton heard your deep sigh.

“you should probably go to sleep, right?” you asked.

both you and anton were silent on opposite ends of the line more awake than ever. if he closed his eyes and focused on your breathing he swore you were right next to him on his tiny twin bed. he took in a deep breath and ran his hands down his chest until he settled on the waistband of his shorts.

“i’m not tired.” he said.

you didn’t waste a second responding to him. anton felt the air in his dorm room prickle with electricity as sweat preemptively started lining his body.

“me neither.”

if anton knew that the next hour and a half would’ve resulted in you two avoiding eachother he never would’ve quietly asked you what you were wearing after you asked him what he was thinking about. he would’ve never told you that he missed you more and more everyday and that he wished to touch you more than anything. but you two were acting off of your own carnal desires, fueled by lack of contact and never going further beyond kissing and grinding when you both knew you were running out of time. he didn’t stand a chance when he heard your breathy whimper when you asked for permission to add another finger. each heavy breath crackled through anton’s speaker, and he wrapped his hand tight around his dick imagining it was you. a confession might’ve slipped out in between the callings of your name and the rhetorical can you feel it’s, but the fog of chasing after something made anton act on impulse only. he finished in his hand the same time you clamped around your fingers, and as soon as the euphoria washed away all you two were left with was an intense silence and heavy realization over the phone. when anton finally opened his eyes he noticed the mess he had made on himself and of your friendship.

anton laid in the bed, uncomfortable and sweaty with wet sticky hands when he heard your heavy pants on the other end of the line. before he could comment on the sudden change in the air he heard you pull in a sharp breath.

“i should go to bed.” you said quickly.

when you hung up before anton could reply, he knew something was wrong. his mouth was still agape when he heard the two definitive beeps on the other end of the line. he still stared at the ceiling, hand resting on his loose stomach as everything sank in.

he waited for you to come to him first. if he was told what he did wrong he could’ve apologized for it. was he too brash? was he too desperate? did he say your name too much? knowing you had become an innate part of anton. he knew what your favorite movie was, what you liked to do and how you talked. so when you left him hanging on the other end of the line and didn’t tell him why, he felt like he knew nothing. he no longer knew how to speak in class or turn in assignments, he didn’t know how to make friends and he didn’t know how to leave his dorm.

maybe that’s what pulled him back to camp. without you anton was left to scramble for a shred of familiarity, even if that meant he would have to become a camp counselor. he prayed his personal hell as a child would became his oasis as a young adult and serve as a mental detox from the fast pace of living in the city and a reprieve from his challenging school curriculum. if he was lucky, he would get the same cabin and pretend the creak in his floorboards was you. so he applied to be a swim instructor and lifeguard on a whim.

he never would’ve thought that you had the same idea as him.

when anton first unloaded his things from the back of his moms’ car and saw you heading into your old cabin he felt warmth the same time he felt the panic wash over him. in the spilt moment he realized the girl who looked like you was actually you everything stilled. the kids running around unattended ceased, the sound of camp counselors yelling for order was silenced. the only thing in anton’s sights was you and the wide eyed look on your face when you noticed him.

the whole day he felt like he was chasing after your shadow. he heard oh, she was just here and you missed her all day. anton was examining your counseling schedule all day, trying to find a time that lined up between the two of you. he didn’t have his epiphany until the middle of the day when he was hunched over rereading the times of your schedule instead of looking when his next class was. anton realized that even if he felt like he didn’t know you anymore, you two were still had to be the same. that’s why he waited until nightfall and caught you on his way to his cabin to talk.

anton ironically caught you on his way out. before you could make it up the three stairs to knock on the door anton opened it, clad in black to try and blend in with the night. when you two recognized what the other was doing, your eyes both widened the same way.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“what are you doing?” he responded.

you looked at him with eyes wide as saucers while your hands fidgeted at your sides, stumbling over your words as you tried to figure out what to say. you would’ve stayed out there all night if the senior campers didn’t start leaving their cabins to head into the forest. the risk of being caught by kids who were also at risk of being caught pushed you into anton’s cabin.

you closed the door behind you and felt himself getting lightheaded. the last time you were this close to him privately he were touching eachother all over. now you leaned your back against his door, hand nervously flexing around your hand.

“i’m sorry for not calling you.” you apologized while your eyes were fixed on the floor.

“it’s alright.” anton assured.

he thought he was going to die the first night you didn’t pick up your phone. he went to a party and drank too much and kissed a girl who very much believed they were dating now. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was in a very committed relationship that wasn’t a relationship with his bestfriend.

“i just can’t believe we fucked over the phone before fucking in real life.” you said.

anton couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face. your bluntness caused him to take a step back and realize how odd the situation between you and him had become. his mind shamelessly went back to that night where he was whimpering your name with his dick in one hand and his duvet in the other. he told himself in that moment that he would’ve never done it if he knew it’d lead to this but the way you stood before him now only made anton see phone sex as an opening—an opportunity. so instead of lying and telling you he would’ve taken it all back to have you in his life in the same capacity as before he looked down at the crown of your head that still hung low.

“that doesn’t mean we can’t do that now.” he said quietly.

anton watched your head instantly perk up at his words. he saw you blink as you the words sunk in. anton showed you he meant it by grabbing your arm and slowly walking you backwards to his bed. he watched you take slow steps at first, almost a stumble as you followed him across the creaking floorboards. you almost tripped on the thin fraying carpet and anton saw it as another opportunity. he held your arm even tighter before he finally sat on the edge of his bed to look up at you. you were set in the middle of his sights, the wooden logs of the cabin served as your backdrop. he bit back the compliment that rested on his tongue to play with the end of your shirt instead. even if a year had passed his hands still fit perfectly. he gently pressed his thumbs into your waist, until the fabric of your shirt crinkled underneath his grip and your hands went to his shoulders.

“anton.” you said quietly.

anton instantly looked up from your waist to your face. your pupils were dilated and your body leaned towards his but your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you nervously smoothed the fabric on his shoulders.

“you got a girl back home now?” you asked.

referring to his college upstate as his home felt odd. although there was alot of things in new york it didn’t have his parents house, it didn’t have this camp, and it sure as hell didn’t have you. but anton knew bringing that up would’ve just been seen as deflecting, so he kept the same grip on you to show that nothing had changed when he nodded his head.

he didn’t know if you avoiding eye contact was because you were hurt or if he was reading too much into things. anton decided to focus on the way you started pinching the fabric of his shirt that draped his shoulders and your eyes that focused on his neck.

you were silent for a moment, focusing on the base of anton’s neck before you tilted your head to the side.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you hummed.

anton noticed your tone wasn’t shy anymore. if you were upset you hid it well. you spoke to him the same way you did over the phone, coy and saccharine.

“how’d you meet her?” you asked.

“what are you wearing?”

“at a party.” anton answered.

“how long have you two been dating?” you asked.

“are you touching yourself right now?”

“not even dating, really.” anton leaned back hoping you’d follow but you stayed in the same place. “just talking.” he added the truth quickly, hoping you’d come closer to him.

“how long?” you repeated.

hearing the stern edge to your voice took anton all the way back to your gentle orders that came through the speaker of his phone. he listened then and he listened now. anton racked through the foggy timeline of his talking stage at college until he came up with a number.

“three weeks?” he said.

anton watched your head cock to the side at his answer. he practically watched you calculate the time from the infamous phone call to the soft launch that anton reposted to his instagram story. when everything added up you looked back to him with a smirk on your face.

“you missed me that much?” you asked.

anton didn’t hesitate to nod, even though some part of him believed he should be withholding such information. if there was a handbook about being friends with benefits with your actual platonic bestfriend, anton was sure that talking about romantic endeavors would be under the list of things not to do. but your hands wandered down from his shoulders to his chest and slid all the way down until your fingers grazed his clothed collarbones. anton wanted nothing more than to get pushed down by you until his back his the mattress. when you experimentally pushed and slotted yourself between his spread legs anton came to the decision then and there that he would give you what you wanted until you returned the favor.

“you know i always do.” anton said while pulling you towards him.

you smirked again and pushed his chest a little harder. anton gave into your strength immediately, happy for an excuse to press his back against the mattress.

he looked from his spot on the mattress to see you still standing in front of him. he pathetically reached his hand out to you, trying to get you to close the gap. but you were steadfast on your side of the bed, looking down at him like you were waiting for something. anton racked his mind for what you wanted to hear, but instead he gave you the truth.

“you’re my bestfriend. how could i not miss you?” he said quietly.

anton didn’t know why that worked. maybe it was the honesty, or maybe it was hearing your relationship be lamented in the still of night. regardless, it was the last thing you needed to get you to stop holding back. like a switch had flipped you were no longer stoic or had to be guided by anton’s hands.

you crawled onto the bed and straddled anton’s body while ridding yourself of your clothes. he couldn’t keep up with your confession that you were too cowardly to advance beyond kissing last summer. anton could only helplessly nod and press his lips to your neck when you told him timidly between gasps that you wanted him but not between the satellites floating in space. you needed to hear his voice in real life, and feel his real hands on you instead of screwing your eyes shut and pretending your soft fingers were his. the only time anton pulled away was when you told him breathlessly you wanted to go all the way.

he crawled onto the bed and lifted his upper body to your bare chest while his hands ran up and down your back.

“are you sure?” anton asked, eyes wide.

after you nodded and arched into his touch, anton repeated the same sentiment back to you. he pulled you close by the small of your back of your pants while he pressed his lips to any place he could reach.

after that night, it set the mood for the rest of the camp. just like the year before you two ended up spending a majority of your alone time sneaking around to be reckless. becoming camp counselors and having your own cabins made everything entirely too easy. you no longer had to pull anton into the deeper part of the forest to kiss him, all you had to do was wait for a break in your schedules and invite him to your cabin.

each time it started and ended the same. you two had developed your own signal, a simple head nod before you turned around and started heading in the general direction of your cabin. anton would follow far behind you, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of kids and other counselors as you both made your ways back. you would go in first and anton would make sure that the coast was clear before coming in. he would close and lock the door behind you, say something about how you were already ready on the bed for him. you would always tease him back about his girlfriend, repeating the same thing you said to him the first time.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you sounded like you were thinking it out loud, mentioning anton’s almost girlfriend without directly stating her name.

anton never answered your question directly. he would distract you by nipping your skin or pulling your hips to his a little faster. anything to interrupt your thoughts, or to push everything else out of your head until it was just him. it worked for the most part, but the question still remained in the back of your head. in between moments of bliss you would look down at anton, lost in you the same way you were lost in him. he didn’t think you had it in you to get in a relationship. he knew he had no right to restrict you from pursuing someone, but he always tried and prove you only needed him in life. when he would cover your classes for you, when he wordlessly understood what you needed, or preemptively got you something you wanted. when anton would hold you down the way you needed or suffocate you with his weight in the best way it was him silently saying why would you need anyone else? for the most part it worked. but each time antons’ phone would light up from a notification you felt a sick churn in your stomach. how would you feel if i did the same thing?

he never answered you, so you decided to find out for yourself.

“you should probably answer that, right?”

anton first was nervous bringing up the elephant sitting on his beside table. he believed he was making a mistake bringing up the quiet ringing of your phone and the annoying buzz on the wooden tabletop, but pride blossomed in his chest when he saw how quickly you turned your confused head look up from the pillow. anton’s dick twitched in his boxers as he felt your whole body stiffen for a moment as you tried to work through your foggy brain.

“what?” you said, voice still hot and bothered.

anton’s dick jumped again when he saw you crane your head back to look at him.

even if he stopped pumping his fingers in and out of your heat, and the camp was completely silent from it being in the middle of the night, you didn’t register anything outside of him. anton watched your eyebrows furrow from confusion to relief when he purposely pressed his scissoring fingers against your soft walls.

when your eyes finally focused back on him anton flicked his head towards your vibrating phone on the corner of his table. he couldn’t stop his wicked smile when he saw you slowly realize what he was talking about. you stiffened even further, your eyes grew wide in panic, and your walls tightened around his fingers.

anton could only blame you so much for not noticing your phone. past a certain time it was automatically set to do not disturb, rejecting phone calls and texts until the morning. anton could only guess two people from your contact list that overrode your silenced notifications. he looked around for his own phone as he adjusted his legs that stretched down the length of his tiny twin sized mattress.

“feels so good you didn’t even notice your boyfriend calling?” anton cooed.

when you parted your lips getting ready to speak, anton plunged a third finger into your cunt. you turned your face back into the pillow to muffle your moans, further arching your back as you preened your hips towards his hand. anton leaned forward from the headboard of his bed and pressed his wet lips to the swell of your ass as your walls clenched around his fingers again.

life was perfect when you were laid out for him like this, face in the pillow with your ass up in the air. you were in between anton’s outstretched legs, holding onto his calf for dear life as your head was facing towards the foot of the bed. anton had to rip his attention away from the thin layer of sweat that coated your body and your nails that dug into the muscle of his leg as your phone continued to vibrate beside him. he rolled his eyes when the contact picture of your boyfriend lit up your phone screen again.

“he’s just going to keep calling if you don’t answer.” anton said, not caring to hide the annoyance in his voice.

he knew better than anyone that a suspecting partner was not going to stop until they got their answers. this happened the summer before when the girl anton pretended was you wouldn’t stop blowing up his phone.

he would’ve been more gentle with you about the situation, maybe he would’ve ignored the buzzing for your sake. but you seemed to only get aa boyfriend in the first place to spite him. he remembers the shock of seeing the smiling mans face on your instagram story. you revealed your new partner the same way anton revealed his—how could he not think this was a pointed attack? he waited for you to drop the games and to ditch him, but you kept him by your side despite talking to anton everyday. reminiscing on the times your boyfriend told you to get off the phone with him caused anton to bend his fingers at the knuckle inside of you just to see feel squirm again.

you turned away from the pillow, your face flushed and eyes bleary as you shook your head.

“i don’t wanna talk to him.” you babbled.

anton looked away from your phone, instantly giving you a mocking pout at your pitiful expression.

you had the same dejected face when anton opened the door for you an hour ago. after countless summers of sneaking around you had your back facing him and looked towards the moon. you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings in the slightest, it would’ve been too easy for you to get caught breaking one of the few rules camp counselors had. but anton’s reprimands were caught in his throat when you turned around to face him. instantly he saw your flushed face and fresh tear tracks that were smeared across the bags underneath your eyes. your arms were crossed and your head hung low, you seemed so small in front of anton he almost thought the gentle night breeze was going to whisk you away. that’s why he wrapped his hand around your wrist so quickly and brought you into the comfort of his single cabin.

you stood in front of his door for a long time, anton was only able to coax you further inside after he sat on his bed and wordlessly beckoned to you.

he inwardly cheered to himself when he saw you take the slow steps towards him. he tried to watch with a neutral face as you came closer and closer, your feet creaking with each step on the old wood floorboards. he scooted away from the corner of the bed to make room for you, not bothering to fight the lean in his body when your weight caused a dip in the mattress.

the way you sat perched on the corner of his bed reminded anton of the first time you ever came in his cabin this late at night. it was a night like this one, a gentle breeze that almost got rid of the sticky humidity that hung in the air from the lake. that summer night was before you two had any rules to your arrangement, and long before your boyfriend came along and complicated everything. anton felt himself getting nostalgic at the way you almost hid yourself from him, how it was so obvious you wanted to tell him something but you were still trying how to find a way to say it.

at the end of the day words always failed you, evident in the way you still nervously bit your lip while trying to muster up what you needed to say. anton scooted closer to the small corner of his bed you occupied. you messed with the loose sheet but didn’t move from your spot at all. anton covered the rest of the gap, planting his hand behind your back to give you something to lean on. you leaned to him without hesitation and rested your head on his shoulder. you had been so cautious to touch him since you arrived, sticking to your guns saying i have a boyfriend now, we can’t do this anymore. but all that seemed to be forgotten when you sniffled once more and darted your tongue to wet your dry and cracked lips.

“take your time.” anton said.

you nodded, and silence beyond the slight movement of trees outside took over the space between you and anton.

“he wants me to quit.” you said.

anton moved his head from your shoulder to look you in the face, wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

“why?” he asked.

anton knew why. you knew why. your boyfriend knew why. everyone in the camp knew why. but you still shook your head before letting it hang, sniffling again.

“he just makes everything so complicated.” you said.

anton nodded sympathetically like he wasn’t the reason for your relationship being so hard. anton overheard the arguments on the phone, you candidly showed him the messages of your jealous boyfriend without a second thought. anton had seen the threats to break up over your contact with him and the confusion of your boyfriend about your male bestfriend. anton had also seen your refusal to give him up, which made him proud.

he imagined your boyfriend back home, fuming so much to the point that he yelled at you to quit your job solely because anton was there. he unknowingly pushed you right to anton’s doorstep, sitting on the edge of his bed with your head leaned into him. anton smiled at the thought of your boyfriend seeing you now, but by no means is he a bad guy. he listened to you when you told him that you two could no longer fool around. but anton knew that he would help you feel better by any means—maybe your boyfriend knew it too.

“things don’t have to be complicated when it’s just you and me.” anton reasoned.

he saw your frame shake a little as you laughed. even if his only view of your face was the top of your head he imagined the scoff and the eye roll.

“i’m serious.” anton reached his hand to wrap around your shoulder to bring you closer. “we know eachother better than anyone else.” he said.

“you say that until we date and then we break eachothers hearts and never speak again.” you are still sniffling while you speak, and you bring the end of your shirt to wipe away forming tears.

anton grabs your shoulders and manipulates your body to face him. your are wide eyed and trying to hide your post-crying face from anton. he thinks you look beautiful, but that’s besides the point. he makes sure you’re looking directly at him before he speaks again.

“i’m not asking for anything else with you. being your friend is the only thing i need.” he says honestly.

“you want me to just wait around all year until the summer comes around?” you ask.

you sound skeptical, but he can tell your interest is peaked by the way you get closer to him. he prays that you understand what needs to be said without him having to verbalize it, just like you always have. anton has already tried the relationship thing in the time he was away from you. you haven’t had the chance to realize that everything falls short when it’s not with the person you love the most.

“doesn’t it feel like sometimes you have to explain yourself too much to him?” when you don’t object, anton moves closer to you. “isn’t it exhausting being with someone who doesn’t know you?” anton continues.

anton watches the tears start to form in your glassy eyes again as you wordlessly nod your head. he can only imagine how tired you must be from your little boyfriend.

“don’t you get nervous at the thought of being alone with him because it’s not me?” he asks.

maybe anton is projecting, but it’s hard to tell when you agree with everything he says. you nod your head and reach your hands out to touch his sides. in other cases where hands have been timid yours are sure, even through a whole year of not being in this type of contact with him.

for a long time, the two of you are silent. the only sound is the creaking mattress underneath your sitting bodies as you two run your hands down the other. both of you are lost in the opportunity of being so close again. anton feels your hands grip his shoulders, and you dig your hands in so deep anton almost feels the pain. his hands go to your lower back and apply just enough force to leet you know what he wants to do. he looks down at your thighs, how soft and welcoming they are then travels up to your face. when he finds you already looking at him his chest starts to feel tight.

“you’re my bestfriend, anton.” you say softly.

he nods, feeling something sting in his eyes.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says back.

you get a little closer, letting your body be pulled by his greedy hands.

“you’re my bestfriend.” you repeat.

anton’s eyes stay locked in on yours, and he puts his full body on the bed.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says again.

you stands on your knees on the bed and anton does the same. he looks down at you, and a hand goes to cradle your face. the single tear that rolls down your face is fat and glimmers even in the darkness of your room. anton catches it with his thumb, wiping away your tears like any bestfriend would do. your hand reaches to his face, then goes around to the nape of his neck. anton only needs to feel you pull at him once before he closes the distance between the two of you.

anton understood why you gave in the first summer you two came back as camp counselors. he knew better than anyone that romantic relationships were fleeting. he was constantly surrounded by flings and endeavors that crashed and burned. but when he talked to the people in his life about his friends, there was always the common consensus. maybe it was wishful thinking, but anton that your relationship would come to an end. having a man check on your every move was unsustainable, and when you would eventually come to anton for advice he would tell you this.

when you eventually came to your senses and broke up with him you would find someone else, the same way anton would find someone else too. then those relationships would end, or come to a toxic boiling point the same way they always do. but through it all, anton knew that he would have you and you would always have him. being able to be your friend was more prestigious than being among the ranks of the terrible man that broke your heart, that left you crying in front of anton. but as your friend—your bestfriend—he was the only one. he was the only one you came crying to the same way you were with him. the place you held in eachothers heart took up more room than any romantic relationship ever could.

so anton did what any good friend would do and started reaching for your pants the same time you started reaching for his. your hands were pulling at his waistband but anton was quick, his large slender fingers reached past the elastic of your shorts and underneath the fabric of your underwear. you bathed his hand in heat before he reached his hand further down, bumping your clit before making it to your hole. when anton prodded your hole he already felt your slick coat his fingers.

he smiled against your lips, and smiled even more when your hands froze. like you went through a factory reset, your mind instead went to pulling at his shirt instead of his pants. he pulled away from you and let your shaky hands pull his shirt over his head. he traded out his hands inside your pants to fully get hi shirt off. even with his non-dominant hand he knew exactly where you needed him, only because it was you. you were instantly responding to his fingers, whiny and trying to figure out which way to go. anton broke apart from your lips to watch his hand jump underneath the fabric of your shorts. you did the same, eventually burying your head in his chest when the sight became too much.

anton led you to your back first, and placed a kiss on your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. you squirmed from the sensation, and anton made a point to suck on the skin until he knew there would be a mark left behind. he watched your hands flounder, searching desperately for something to do.

“take your pants off.” anton breathed.

instantly your hands were pushing down your pants and your legs were kicking to get them all the way off. when they were discarded over the edge of the bed anton moved his fingers to play with your clit. your shirt rode higher up your body and your back arched. he looked down at your reactions, wondering if you were always this sensitive.

he pulled away from you and backed away up he rested against the headboard of the bed. you followed him all the way there, shimmying your body in between his legs. he smiled and tapped the inside of your thigh to break you out of the brain fog.

“how do you want it?” he asked.

“don’t wanna think about anything.” you said.

anton responded by pulling your body closer to his, then placing his hands on the side of your body to flip you around. you obliged immediately, becoming malleable to anton’s hands. he flipped you onto your stomach then propped your legs underneath you.

“arch for me baby, that’s all you have to do for me.” he mumbled while pressing a hand to your lower back.

anton took it upon himself to do all the work. he spread you with one hand while trailing his wet fingers up your thighs with the other. you shivered for him even if it felt like it was a million degrees in the cabin, and you pushed your hips backwards even if he was giving you what you wanted. anton still took his time, only putting the first finger inside of you after his hand on his ass kept you still.

by the time he had two fingers inside of you, your boyfriend’s contact photo lit up your screen again. anton’s hand that was still having to keep your ass in place reached across his body to grab the phone. he scoffed at the contact picture and the identical emoji that was tacked onto the end of anton’s contact name.

past your phone anton could see your eyes blown out with worry as you weakly waved your hand.

“don’t answer it.” you whined.

“i won’t,” he continued driving his fingers into your contracting heat while he silenced the phone and unlocked it. he saw the notifications of the voicemails lit his face up while your body swayed and rocked with his hands. “you should atleast listen to the voicemails, though.” he said.

before you could respond, anton went to the longest voicemail and put it on speaker. he tossed the phone to land beside your face that was turned away from the mattress. he watched you try so hard to focus while you listened to your boyfriend’s voicemail.

“how are you?” his voice crackled over the speaker of your phone and anton watched you try to cover your face.

anton felt sick hearing the dejected of your boyfriend’s voice.

“he thinks he can yell at my bestfriend then call your phone all teary?” anton’s voice is so soft it barely pierces through the sound of your moans.

“we need to talk this out, seriously.” the voice on your phone said.

anton leaned forward, his body eclipsing yours as he started working in a third finger. your back arched deeper and anton pressed his body against the curve. he kept leaning forward, until his lips were by your ear. he smiled wickedly against the shell before parting his lips.

“he wants to talk it out?” anton questioned.

you shook your head against the bed and preened your hips backwards.

“he’s so mean.” you babble before turning your head to face the mattress.

“so mean.” anton coos back to you.

anton could tell you were getting close. you started trying to fight against his hold on your ass a little more and your cunt started contracting around his fingers erratically. another call from your boyfriend was banished to the back of your mind as you started repeating his name over and over again. he gave you countless hums of acknowledgment, waiting for you to give him the last thing he needed.

“please put it in.” you whined.

anton quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and your form instantly crumbled. you lowered your ass as you caught your breath and as anton pushed his pants down your phone lit up again. this time you responded by pushing the device off the bed entirely, not caring less if your screen shattered on the hardwood floor. anton would’ve laughed, he would’ve teased you for not caring anymore but he was too focused on looking for the condom in his drawer.

“please hurry.” you said weakly.

you started finding your form back while anton reached around and brought the foil packet to your mouth. you clamped your teeth around the perforated mark and when the corner disappeared past your lips anton pulled. the packet opened and anton watched you push the end out past your tongue, the top part of the packaging sitting in the same indent your phone previously was. something about this was insanely poetic, he was sure of it. the way your inhibitions crumbled for him and the way you looked back before lifting your body from the mattress.

you stood on your knees again and rid yourself of your shirt and bra. anton watched your back become exposed to him as he worked the latex onto his dick impatiently securing it in place before pressing his chest to your back. with one hand wrapped around your body to hold you in place and the other leading his dick to your cunt he was in heaven. the sound of your phone vibrating on the ground was the last thing on his mind.

the bed was shaky underneath your shared weight. anton’s body enveloped yours again, and the dips in the mattress caused by his knees made your body sway. he used it as an excuse to hold you a little tighter, to bring his head to rest on your shoulder as his tip prodded your ass and then your hole. your hands grabbed his bicep and you shamelessly dug your hands into his skin.

“anton. please.” you plead racked through your body.

anton let go of his dick and his hand went to your hips instead. he pushed forward the same time he pulled you down, and you clenched around him before your walls fully loosened. anton’s hips kissed your ass when he was fully inside, and you threw your head back to his shoulder as you adjusted. anton felt your heartbeat and the walls the same, he was sure that his heart hammering against your back matched it too.

“i missed you.” anton murmured.

neither of you were sure what exactly he missed, if he was talking about sex or something entirely too intimate. whatever it was, all you knew was that he had it—and when he pulled his hips back to push back in he got it again.

anton placed kisses to your neck and back as your lips parted from the feeling. anton wanted to get lost in the pleasure himself, but he knew he had a job to do, he had to show you how good of a bestfriend he was. so even though he his body becoming taut he had to make sure you were finished first. he lifted his head from your shoulder to kiss your cheek and then your parted lips that were to distracted to kiss him back. he watched you try and form a sentence and smiled against your cheek.

“are you close?” he asked.

you nodded against his shoulder and turned your head to face him. your lips closed into a pout, and he felt your body getting weaker around him. his hand that was on your waist pressed into your stomach where he swore he could feel himself. anton’s hand drifted down to your swollen nub and he felt you trying to fall forward. he readjusted his grip across your body, and you gasped again at being manhandled.

“not too much right?” anton said it sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

“i like when you hold me.” you answered.

anton hummed against your throat and started working his fingers faster against your clit. your hands that were holding his held him tighter, so much to the point anton thought you were going to break the skin.

“keep going.” anton’s mattress creaked underneath your weight as you shifted on your knees. “i’m close.”

when your hands started reaching backwards to pull at anton’s hair that’s when he finally acknowledged the pain. in the moment he hissed from pain and loosened his grip on you, you were able to finally let your body fall forward on the mattress. anton followed after you, and you were wedged between the mattress and his large body. anton pressed his full body weight against you, and you had no where left to go. you didn’t want to be anywhere else and you let him know that through your moans that increased in volume. he lost himself in the new angle and the way you felt underneath him. his legs were on either side of yours, pressing them together. you were somehow tighter, causing anton to thrust into you harder and harder.

“so good.” he whispered into your shoulder blade.

“so big.” you whined.

anton saw your white knuckle grip on the sheets when he pulled his head away from your back. he saw your entire body move with each thrust. he clasped his hands over yours after tracing the lines of your knuckles with his eyes. you fit into him perfectly in his hands and you were soft under him. everything about you fit perfectly wit him.

“so close.” anton said before kissing your sweaty cheek.

you nodded against the mattress and started arching your back against anton’s hips. he was able to hit you even deeper than before.

he could feel his heart almost burst in his chest.

“i love you.”

he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to say it. him leaning forward to whisper it directly into your ear was filled with intention. your body froze as a reaction, then anton felt your walls contract around his dick as your body pressed deeper into the mattress.

“i love you too.” you whined, words prolonged and ending with a gasp.

anton continued fucking you through your orgasm as you became a sobbing mess underneath him. it wasn’t long before he was pressing his sweaty face into your back as he released into his condom, shaking and giving you a few final thrusts as your body went from being tense to completely limp.

he pulled out and settled to your deeper. your breathing and heartbeats were synced, anton reveled in that before rolling off of you to your side. you still were face down in the mattress, back raising and lowering as you tried to pull yourself together. when you started moving anton put his hands on you again, turning your body around so you were facing him. a;ready your eyes were closing, the drool down the side of your face and the fresh tear tracks drying on your skin. he thought you were beautiful, he smiled while wiping away the mess with his hands, coming forward to place a light kiss on the apples of your cheeks. you hummed constantly before scooting towards him and anton took the initiative to pull you into his chest. you burrowed into him and he wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes.

anton’s blaring alarm clock pulled him from his sleep. hearing the harsh sound made him draw in a quick breath. he shot up from the bed like a vampire and pulled in a gasp like he was coming up from the water. his heart thudded in his chest and his brain pulsed in his skull as the rhythmic blaring only got worse. after a moment of trying to wet his dry mouth he flailed his arm to the side, turning off the clock and almost knocking it from his bedside table in the process.

when his brain fog cleared and the alarm was finally off, anton realized that the only thing left in his room was him. he heard the songbirds that made a nest in the tree next to his cabin and he heard the passing sound of kids yelling and running but he didn’t hear you move across his sheets.

anton for a moment believed that he imagined you showing up at his door. he must’ve had a vivid dream of you sitting on the corner edge of his bed with your body caved in on itself and you looking at him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. but anton knew he’d never have a dream about you in pain—he had his fair share of dreams about your eyes filled with tears and your body on his bed, and the occasional dream of you two coming back to this camp in the future, maybe with a family of your own or as friends—but never a dream about you in pain. so when he needed the last bit of proof that last night actually happened, he turned towards your unofficial side of his bed.

one of the best things about the night after was that you always left a trace. being with you always left a taste in his mouth and a smell that lingered on his sheets and clothes. anton wasn’t sure if you left behind pieces of you on purpose, but he was grateful regardless. anton ran his hands over the cold crater in his sheets and saw where you pulled his covers off of your body before you left. anton wondered if you left smelling like him or if you leaned over to take one last whiff of him the same way he did to your side of the bed now.

his mind fully woke up the same time everything came rushing back. first it was the tiny things anton remembered—the way you arms rested on his shoulders and how your hands locked together behind his head. anton planting his feet into the wooden floor of his cabin as you walked over to him. the feelings of your soft skin that covered your spine and how it was a perfect path all the way down. anton could still feel the warm air of your gasps against his neck and down his back and the feeling of your chest pressing into his graphic tshirt—if he focused hard enough on his mattress anton swore he could see your naked body with his covers on you haphazardly. if he closed his eyes and focused he could hear your moans and callings of his name in his ear.

following right behind the details were the big events. trailing behind anton’s recollection of your teeth pressing into his neck anton remembered your boyfriend calling, and after he remembered you weaving your fingers in between his he recalled your confession that he wanted you to quit. he remembered all of your confessions last, how they tumbled out right before the end and you both were asleep before you could talk about it. anton’s head darted around the space of his room as if he could still see the words in the air. instead he came face to face with the harsh light that only made the stress headache and the woke-up-to-fast migraine worse. anton covered his face and audibly groaned, but seared into the back his eyelids was your face when anton told you he loved you.

this was entirely too much to process at 8:23 in the morning.

just as the shock of everything was beginning to set in, anton heard the three loud bangs at the door. he waited for the fourth—anton actually propped himself up on his knees and silently he prayed for the fourth knock—but instead all he heard was the sound of a man on the other side of his door clearing their throat.

“anton. are you awake?”

anton got out of his bed so fast his vision spotted hearing minho’s voice. he thought for a moment he was going to kick the door in and discipline him for missing the morning meeting. anton cleared his throat as he stood in only his boxers. he may not be ready, but he was awake.

“i’m awake, sir.” anton answered

“your campers are done with lunch in thirty minutes.” anton looked at his alarm clock and realized he was running extremely late. “make sure you have all of the swimming equipment ready at the lake.” minho ordered.

“yes sir.”

anton got dressed in a haste, still pulling his camp counselor shirt over his head as he walked towards the shed that housed the swimming equipment. by the time he made it to the tiny brick building he already had sweat beading his hairline. the inside of the building felt like a brick oven. anton was being baked alive as he grabbed the life jackets and threw them into the wheelbarrow. anton was in such a rush he didn’t even react seeing the tiny spider in the cobwebs by the tiny window. his only concern was getting out to the bearable heat as fast as possible.

after leaving he took a deep breath and checked his watch. fifteen minutes until his campers would be at the lake. anton didn’t even have time to complain about the heat of the brick oven before he had to lift the wheelbarrow and head towards the lake.

the sweat that beaded his hairline began falling down his face. even if it was a downwards path to the water anton was still sweating from the exertion. occasionally he’d have to set the wheelbarrow down to bring the end of his shirt to pat the sweat away before the salt found its way to his eye. he pushed the wheelbarrow with the life jackets over the hill before mumbling to himself that the camp really needed a better way to transport the life jackets.

when anton made it over the hill and the ridgewood lake was finally in view, anton knew it was you immediately sitting at the end of the wharf. even if your back was facing him and you were wearing the same uniform as everyone else. since he seemed to be admitting things lately he could pick you out from a mile away, or he could imagine you to the point of fruition. in a cartoonish way anton even believed could tell you apart from your evil twin. you pointing at another you saying she’s the imposter! get her! anton would know which one was the real you by asking who fell first (the real you would say it was you but anton fell harder). he focused on your back while pushing the equipment down the hill, and wondered if the sound of the wheel hitting the rocks would catch your attention.

after setting the swimming equipment near the water, he slowly started making his way down the wharf. you were still unsuspecting, or maybe you already knew that anton would’ve come to you like this. there had to have been a reason why you were conveniently at the lake the same time anton had his scheduled swimming class. there also had to be a reason why anton was so nervous approaching you. the water gleamed and moved gently around the two of you, the tiny ripples reflected the sun. anton made his way past the kayaks tethered to the dock and deeper into the lake to get closer to you. he was still dry and his weight creaked on the wood of the wharf but it was like he was hovering towards you.

you still didn’t turn around when anton’s finally set next to you. anton peered at your face nervously. your eyes were closed and you faced the open water, anton almost felt like he didn’t exist.

what should he say? he opened his mouth and closed it twice, licking his lips after the second time. anton propped himself up by pressing his hands into the rough wood then clasped them together in his hands. you still kept your eyes closed and faced forward, only difference was that a smile was etched across your face.

“i don’t want to talk about last night.” you said, eyes still closed.

anton nodded even though you couldn’t see him and he sighed contently even though he felt conflicted. he wanted to pointlessly pry, he needed to quell the overwhelming feeling in the pit of his stomach that you were still with your boyfriend. he selfishly needed to hear that he was the only man in your life even if you only saw him nine weeks out of the year.

“have things changed?” anton asked quietly.

he took you scooting your body closer to his as a life preserver. when you finally opened your eyes and turned to face him anton still felt like he was drowning.

“do you want them to?” you asked.

the light bounced from the water shined on your face. the caustics from the tiny waves mapped across your face, changing and constantly moving. anton clasped his hands tighter in his lap.

“no.” anton said.

simple and straight to the point, but so much was left unsaid. he didn’t want to think about not seeing you next year, he wasn’t sure if he could face the truth that you were still very much with your boyfriend. but you sighed contently and leaned your head to rest on his shoulder, and put one of your hands over his. anton instantly unclasped his hands and clutched yours desperately. you sighed again—maybe you did break up with him.

“then they haven’t.”

anton swore he could hear the sound of kids coming towards the lake. he heard the rippling waves and the kayaks rocking on the water behind him. he heard you draw in another breath and scoot even closer to his body. he looked at the sun reflect on the lake as he scooted closer to you too. you rested your head on his shoulder and just like that, a million things were said without a single word.

“you’re always going to be my bestfriend.” you said quietly, still looking at the water.

neither of you decided to read too much into your words—you two have your entire lives to decipher the meaning.

#commissionz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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allfearstofallto · 9 months ago

Note

Hey girl found your blog and loving it so far

Can I request a yandere alhaitham forcing a marriage while making it seems he is not (does that even make sense 😭)

Hi friend! I could be wrong, but I think you're asking to be gaslit and manipulated. In which case, I got you.

It's What You Wanted

Yandere! Alhaitham x Reader

The papers in front of you had this foreboding energy around them, like you were doing something wrong, even though it was something you agreed to. Or maybe it was the ramifications of them, the papers themselves weren't scary, they were just pages after all, but it was what they meant. What they represented for you.

His name was already signed on one side in his usual neat, cursive penmanship. The other line lay blank, empty, and waiting for your name next. Your name. You. It was just waiting for you to finish it.

“Well?” He questioned into the silence that sat over the both of you. He was always so nonchalant and today was no different. One leg crossed on the other and a book sat over his knee, keeping the pages open for him to begin reading again. He was treating this as if it wasn't a major decision for him, life changing even, but that energy suited his character.

You picked up the pen, but it felt heavy in your hand and you trembled, making you sit it back down, “Don't you think this is a bit of a bad decision, Alhaitham?” You questioned with a little sweat on your brow.

“You're the one who came up with the idea,” he retorted.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but shut it again. What he was talking about was an offhanded comment you'd made at the table a few days ago. After a night of drinking and complaining about having to return home, at the wishes of your mother and father, you drunkenly complained on and on about your problems. Once your term was over at the academia, they expected you to be on your way back home, despite your wishes to stay.

Your parents, being the old fashioned people that they were, wouldn't listen to your word, but the word of your husband? That's what mattered most in the world to them. You muttered something about actually wishing you were married for once, how it'd make it easier for your parents to actually listen to you, but didn't say much else.

You remembered seeing Alhaitham raise an eyebrow over the cover of his book at that and take another small sip of his drink, but other than that, nothing more was said about the comment. Not until now.

“But…would this even be okay with you? This is marriage,” you tried to press the importance of this to him, but his green eyes didn't even seem phased. He was always so hard to read, unless he outright said it, you never knew what he was thinking.

“You want to stay, don't you?” His words made your stomach drop. He was right, you did want to stay. You wanted to live in Sumeru for as long as possible. You wanted to keep studying and learning. You wanted to be close to your friends.

“I do, but…”

“You should just sign it,” he pushed the paper on the table closer to you once more, “It’s better you do this with me than some random guy who'll just use this against you. Think logically.”

You sighed and looked down at the blank space. Your name was to go there, but your hesitance was eating you alive. This didn't feel right. The idea, while a fun one in theory, was one that you wouldn't be able to get yourself out of easily.

Before you had the chance to think about it more, the page was picked up. Your eyes followed it as he held it in his hands and stood from the table. He didn't look at you once as he did this, the lack of acknowledgement making your heart drop to your stomach.

“What are you doing?” You questioned rather hurriedly, surprising even yourself.

“Destroying this,” was all he said, a hint of boredom in his voice again, “It's obvious that you want to go back home with your parents, so there's no reason to keep it around. I can't risk anyone taking it and having my signature.”

The speed at which everything was happening made your mind spiral out of control. All the emotions you were feeling swirled together, crashing inside your head until all that was left was fear. Fear of having to leave, fear of losing your freedom, the fear that your last chance was just going to walk away.

“No! Wait!” You shouted and Alhaitham stopped in his tracks, “I'll- I'll sign it.” The words felt like an anchor on your chest, but you knew they were what you had to do. He was right. You didn't want to go back to your parents.

He placed the page back in front of you, but instead of sitting back down, he stood beside you. His large body hovered over yours, casting a shadow that felt even more ominous. You could feel the heat coming off of him making your skin prickle up with goosebumps.

Alhaitham picked up the pen for you, his touch was gentle as he handed it to you. His finger tips brushed across yours, his touch lingering a bit longer than it should've.

Your hand shook the entire time you wrote. Your name was scribbled, but it was yours. You'd signed it. You thought you'd breathe a sigh of relief, of joy knowing that you'd done it, you'd secured your freedom, but instead you still felt that suffocating pressure.

He picked the paper up before you could change your mind, “I'll get this registered,”

“But we'll get it annulled after talking to my parents, right?” You asked a bit neverously, a feeling of dread sinking it.

“Sure,” he responded, it sounded like his usual monotone voice or at least he was trying to make it seem that way. He was still facing away from you, so you didn't know for sure, but a part of you could swear you were hearing a smirk in his voice.

#genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere alhaitham #yandere Alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader

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ruruvxz · 2 months ago

Note

what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #female reader #gxg #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #girl group imagines #minji imagines #kim minji imagines #kim minji fic #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader #newjeans fic #Minji fic #Newjeans pls don’t disband im tweaking #newjeans x you #newjeans smau #newjeans ff #minji x reader

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comfortless · 9 months ago

Text

Only Other

chapter two of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of violence & gore, more groping, allusions to abduction, dubious consent to a nonsexual genital inspection, animal death, minor character death, masturbation.

wc: 10.6k.

<- previous.

Everything feels unsound, a thicket of heavy vine curling it’s way up from the dirt to settle over you, in your belly, hair, anywhere. Sharp thorns and sap so thick you could drown.

Gaius is here, again, poised with his arms folded over his chest. You swallow thickly after you ask him to repeat what he’s just said. Something about eyes and ears between every crevice, beneath every board. He had a litany of reasons to believe you were not the sweet little maiden he had promised a halfway decent life to.

Careful as you thought you were, sneaking past the gate to roll in moonlight with the giant men of myth and smell the beasts and their pelts past the wall… The following morning had been the downfall of bliss. People take note when wolves begin to sniff around their cattle, and it’s no surprise that König was noted doing just that when he brought you back here on his horse with some sort of bloated pride when he named you his ‘Göttin’.

“Disrobe,” Gaius commands for the second time. The voice that comes from cracked lips and weathered jowls never falters: always so self-assured, stern, and where it may have sparked an interest in you from anyone else, here… it only feels vile. He’s the embodiment of the city itself: worn, cracking, splintered filth, left alone to wind and twist out of control.

You imagine he must have taken up the demeanor during his days as a centurion, but your head clouds when you try to recall the many times he’s monologued those times to you. Like his proposal, the dowry and arrangements, all of it feels blurry in your mind. You lose yourself to it when the strap is slipped down your shoulder, your body goading you do as asked for the sake of fewer future headaches.

There are no lemures looming over your shoulders these days, they only guide his hand, his voice. They haunt you in the shape of Gaius, an old hawk that screeches the commands you’ve no place to refuse.

The stola drops to your ankles with a dreadfully slow sweep, a century passed in a bolt of lightning. It pools down at your feet in a river of white. Graciously, Gaius doesn’t prompt you to remove the breast band where the truth of your bout lies embedded in little bruises, the mark of teeth scraped right by your areola in a rolling fit of passion.

Your betrothed boxes you in against the bench until the backs of your knees meet the wood, guides you down with weighty palms until you’re seated: feet pressed onto the seat, knees brought back toward your chest. In earnest, your stomach froths with a displeasure and embarrassment, but this is not the first time that the man had taken to inspect your pussy as if it’s your only worth in the world.

Whichever malady he possesses to make him like this… you could only hope that König did not have it. This weak, old soldier would be nothing short of a toothless dog should your bull take to charge him.

What was a dull glimmer of longing for his safety immediately sours to a wish for his goring when those cold fingers tug your loincloth aside and you’re laid bare for him right there on the bench.

The old creep inspects your cunt as though he were a medicinal woman. His fingers part your parched labia, not so much as a dewdrop of arousal there— completely unlike how your body had only seemed to melt and sing its pleas for König. He doesn’t whisper his pleasures in Latin about how pretty it is down there, doesn’t capture your mouth in a kiss that scorches you right through, only probes and prods at your slit to see if there’s any give.

Of course there isn’t.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you let the entire barbarian camp take their turns with you; you wouldn’t be any more blooming for Gaius. Men like him didn’t have the slightest idea of how to make a lady soft and dewing, they only thought that they did.

You knew with a certainty that this wasn’t normal by any stretch. After the first instance, asking the women nestled against their open windows, humming to sleeping infants curled on their chests only prompted sympathetic stares. “Have you no midwife?,” one had replied, face paled as she looked to you: the pitiable woman who had been inspected like a strange fish just for bartering with a man at his market stall for bread. Gaius had not found a thing then, and you had only begun to doubt his intelligence.

… Did he even know what a hymen was?

You will keep your secrets, and he will always play the fool. That’s just how peace would operate once you did share a roof with him.

“Well?,” you prompt, shifting a little in your seat when his cold fingers move to grip the plush of your parted thighs, examining closer with a low, raspy gasp.

A feint that earns no response.

Seemingly satisfied by a lack of a shimmering semen trail or whatever dullards like Gaius sought, he scowls and backs away, hands falling to his sides. There’s no bulge stirring beneath his toga, either. There’s an absence of anything that would make your relationship seem anything more than some strange transaction.

If anything at all, you have become a kept dove, clipped wings and cooing in a gilded cage. No more a wife than a pet or a pretty, glittering jewel. Something meant to waste away its days possessed.

You didn’t even know why he had chosen you, a lady with no gold, silk, or land to her name. Everything you owned he had given to you. Father, mother… whether or not you even had siblings, you were uncertain. Trying to remember only stirs up another aching in your head and you’ve had more than enough to worry about lately without the added sting,

“You’ve done no wrong.” It’s decided in a cold tone of voice. There’s a belief there, but only because the truth of the matter would make him look entirely the part of the fool that he seemed to play without notice.

“As I said.” You won’t run pleading to Juno for her forgiveness this time, or ever again. For the goddess of marriages and women to bless you with… this. Surely she never favored you very much at all.

You wouldn’t waste your bronze coins on fortune tellers anymore, either.

“Mind your words, girl.” He pats your cheek, feigning an affection that has never been present in this villa, in this city at all. You feel little more than like one of the slave girls— not whipped into submission, their plight was always far worse, but if you looked into their eyes for a moment too long, you knew you would find a part of yourself held there.

You nod your head and carry on puppeting yourself as you always have. Conversation comes stiffly as he wanders about your little home, noting what would need fixing before the night of your wedding, checking your food stores and even helping himself to a bone cup filled with wine. Even with it offered to your lips, speaking with him does not come any easier.

Finally, you utter the words that have nagged at the back of your throat since the day of his proposal, “Why do you want for us to be wed?”

The man pauses as he sets the cup aside, finger drumming at the rim momentarily as he regards you with an upturned brow.

“Your father’s dying wish was for us to be married.”

“Yes, but… who was he?”

“A great warrior.” That’s the only explanation you ever get, even when the confusion paves way to a simmering concern. How could you not remember your own kin? It seemed so unfathomable. Seeing so many large families walk these same streets as you… and yet you only had Gaius, hardly better company than a corpse.

“That’s all that you ever tell me.”

“… You will make a great wife.” He concludes the conversation, gives you a firm kiss on the cheek and leaves you to stew in the nothingness that haunts this place as though it were an ancient tomb.

Your days remain the same, nothing ever changing in your eternal cage that only grows ever-colder, more and more like a crypt.

Stitching, weaving, flowing. The animals needed tending, the marketplace was always bustling, and you’ve stopped listening to the poets. Their words only make you feel colder now.

You have met the things that lurk beyond these walls, and they do not speak of bubbling creeks and your gods; they soak their weapons in you, whisper like the trees and bellow like the mountains, ride their horses into battle without a scrap of armor on their hides. They don’t even fear the lemures or Jupiter’s lightning strikes. Maybe not even the changing seasons; harvests must be plentiful when your home isn’t surrounded by chalked clay and ivory.

You don’t turn to Juno any more, but you do turn to Mars. You pray not for the empire, but for his bastard.

Her altar had been tucked away to a corner of your room, replaced now by a stagnant cup of wine you dutifully purge and refill each night, a stray dagger you had acquired from a thieving child on the street, and a strip of red fabric torn away from an old tunic belonging to your betrothed.

When night comes and the weight of it all curls over your shoulders, you find yourself tugged down to the floor on your knees, whispering great fortune for that arrogant beast who had promised to take you to bed when next you meet. It always starts the same, your voice pleads to Mars, only to dither off to murmurings of a different name.

Though he remains distant, barking and bleeding out prey far from you, some semblance of him remains tucked between your ribs. A small echo, one that only seems to grow into a roar when your eyes close and you dream of wolves and their sharp-fanged promises, wisps of wind through low-hanging branches and not paved streets, dirt giving way beneath your feet.

He holds you in those dreams, whispers to you about your false gods when you stand over a stream, points out the only two in existence amidst the reflection with a curled finger.

In those dreams, you think you hear the voice of Mars, a fluttering leaf on the breeze detached from what he’s come to be: it tells you of thyme and rosemary, a foreign glade, of death and longing, and never does it breathe fire.

Then, you wake, ripped from the Elysian and back to wander Orcus with a heavier weight upon your soul.

— — —

Mars answers your prayers in the late autumn.

You do not wake to the sounds of horses or crackling fires outside, only something quieted and peaceful. The street beyond your window is silent as you stretch out to see what’s stirred you; not an animal or a man lies in wait, only the cool gloom of the moon tucked beneath clouds above.

Time only seems to pass more viciously these months. There’s a wedding to be had when the seasons changed; your yellow-red veil had been stitched with trembling fingers nicked several times over by needle, the lectus had been prepared and set on the first floor of the villa. The red cloth covering the modest couch seemed a threat in itself. You don’t hazard it a glance when you wander out of the door to take to the street tonight.

Dim moonlight does little to guide you, only making each shadow seem to stretch and warp in mocking, uninvited guests to set your shivering heart spinning.

There is just no time anymore, not here.

There, sits an owl atop a roof. Its dark wings stretched out as if to begin another flight, to coo its retribution to the sleeping city. You don’t dare to attempt to capture it, there would be no ritual tonight and no care if some harbinger brought doom to this place. It regards you with shimmering yellow eyes, and you think, for just a moment that you see the same feral look in them that you saw in your warrior. The bird wasn’t always the omen that others may claim, sometimes it’s only a sign.

The son of Mars has returned, his horse is waiting to take you upon its broad back and carry you to the mountains and the sea.

The chill on the breeze only guides each step you take as you clamber through that chipping hole in the wall and flee to the field once again. Strangely enough, the air even feels different out here, colder still but devoid of the shadows that climb and crush. The soldiers usually stationed outside the wall are not present now. You only reason that it was rare that they ever were, anyway, always too bathed in wine and kisses from flighty little women slaves to focus on the scape just beyond.

And there, further out from the opposite bank the stream, you see the glow of a fire.

It was strange to see the Goths had returned before your city’s own soldiers. Perhaps you had slept through their march, tucked away at some vast banquet filled with pillaged riches, the finest of wines and the most fresh of smoked meats before you had even begun to stir. Peculiar thing, being so accustomed to the rituals of men that for the most part you had learned not to even bat an eye. It mattered not, anyhow. What you sought was not another Roman to steal away your aspirations to take you as his woman.

Your pace is light and tentative, feeling the earth sink and mold around your bare soles. The thorns risen up from grass dare not poke you with their spines, the owls lurking in the trees do not chase or call, and the horses in the pastures seem at ease.

Even in a world bathed in black and silver, you feel golden, warmed from temple to ankle by that someone other lurking just beyond reach. The other gods could be condemned— it was Mars at your side all along.

The barbarian camp is in a similar state to when you had first seen it, just as you are with the ends of your gown drenched in water from the stream.

There are fewer to their numbers now. You count only three: two busied away with roasting meat over the fire, one running his blade over a flat stone at the mouth of his tent. You recognize them, somewhat, as you step closer, each just as imposing as the first with thick hair and wild eyes, but there’s no sign of König, not here in the open.

You’re stricken by fear immediately, clouding your head with doubt and worry: not for your own safety, but at the thought that your warrior was left to rot in the forests beyond, struck down by some other barbarian king.

You’re stood at the edge of the camp when your breath grows thin, pulse racing as your veins try in earnest not to burst with panic.

One of the men rises from the fire, gruffs something at you in his mother tongue, a deep rumbling like the rocks of old mountain and the timber of trees: like König. He stands before you, a wild mane of dyed hair atop his head, so deeply crimson and maroon you would even think it had been colored with blood from sheep or man, perhaps both.

He claps you on the back with a strong hand, the shove nearly enough to send your shivering form tumbling to the dirt, before you’re righted with a strong grip on your wrist. Then, he laughs.

“Come. König,” the man barks in his heavily accented voice, tugging at your wrist as if you were a mere calf to herd.

Your panic dulls somewhat, enough to wriggle out of his grip and shoot him a glare you had only previously reserved for your betrothed. Intent on playing the part of some strong yet benevolent noble woman it seemed, as you straighten yourself out and ignore the way that the mud and blades of grass stick right to the dirtied hem of your loose robe.

“He is here?” You ask after a moment, feeling a bit misplaced as this other, less familiar giant stares down at you. His eyes are not blue, but gold when the light of the fire pit illuminated him.

This one does not understand as much as you had hoped, because he only murmurs more incomprehensible words and pushes your forward with a palm placed right between your shoulder blades.

You don’t trip, but you had half a mind to hiss at him then, until you realize he is only leading you towards that same ugly tent from before.

The pelts have been changed out, somewhat. There is less gray now and more brown, hides from deer and boar alike, taken from their months of travel. The maroon fabric remains, layered beneath in such a way that seems to make it only seem more alive and bleeding this time.

“Keep warm.” The man speaks up again, and there is no mistaking the amusement in his voice. Insulting, what he dared to insinuate with those two words, yet… there’s a cloud of fuzzy, warm excitement billowing up between your breasts all the same.

The flap of the tent is held up by your own trembling hand, elation tinged with an anxiety, a clustering song played without harmony in your very bones. Though, it settles so easily when the light of the moon mingles with the candles within the cradle of wool and leather.

König is sat, recognizable from his very being, laden with scars and coarse light fur, vast as he had always been. However, his face has changed. Gone is the bleeding shroud you had seen upon him before: the cloth has been tossed away on the mattress, revealing a face that both chills and heats you to the very base of your being.

His face is not unlike others you have seen, maybe upon gladiators a time or two once the helmets were discarded and the dancing with beasts and men alike had subsided. There are scars there, too, a broken face revealing a menagerie of pain from the bump upon his nose to the chip in his tooth as he smiles. His eyelids are still smeared in darkened mud used to make him seem that much more sinister in battle, streaking down his cheeks not unlike the carmine that tended to use to paint your own.

Those eyes though… they stand out above all else, heart wrenching and sullen, and still, they rise to crease at the outer corners when his stare meets your own.

A man with more polish would have concealed the state of himself from a maiden; turned his face away and covered his nudity in the furs lining his mattress. You’re thankful that König is not like those men. His stare is as open as his body’s own articulation: he only lies back into the bed and beckons you near with a curl of his fingers to his calloused palm.

“I made offerings for you.” To you, but thankfully that phrasing doesn’t make its way out. You take your place on his mattress, carefully placing a palm over his chest just to feel— to touch, to be nearer to your god in some way. The time apart hasn’t been entirely cruel, but ‘kind’ would never suit it well either.

Your touch is answered by a heavy grip around your forearm, a gentle yet demanding tug that leaves you sprawled across him like some tiny animal gripping onto a tree: your head presses against his bare stomach, one hand tucked to your chest while the other is quickly pulled up to meet his mouth. König kisses you, right on your palm in some peculiar sort of reverence.

“Your blessing was enough.” You feel his mouth stretch, the brush of teeth against your flesh as he grins, something you’ve missed.

It’s a ruse; there are winding strips of fabric haphazardly tied over his chest, thick with the stench of iron. The blood is dried, but you could only imagine the state of the wound beneath it. Months upon months of travel with a chest wound… your heart crumbles, struck with worry then.

The seax sits intact, however, propped up against one of the wooden poles keeping the shelter in place. Even sheathed, you could assume with how dutifully the barbarian cared for his blade that it had been cleaned, sharpened and greased to keep rust at bay. Though the benevolence he had coaxed from you had not saved him, a part of you was almost pleased to see the weapon unscathed.

“You’re hurt,” you hear yourself say, far away, out amidst the turning leaves that surely watched him take a spear or a dagger, maybe even an arrow, toward his beating heart.

“Hm…? Men get hurt in battles, meine Göttin,” he says, so nonchalant, as though the fear of dying out amongst the trees and hungry animals did not exist for him at all. “You worry?”

You pull your hand away from him when he playfully nips at your fingertips; even wounded König seems more inclined to bite and make you squeal than settle into this expanse of fur to rest and heal.

Of course you’re worried, men fall to mere scrapes in time: grime coaxes its way in, wounds fester with an almost laughable ease, infection paves way for fever and…

“Take care of me…?” König’s voice comes soft, the softest you’ve heard. Gone now is that boyish, mocking lilt, replaced by something akin to trepidation. Fear for him does not come from the shouting of men with blades held high, but in small whispers begging for affection.

“Sure…”

The ruddy bandages are pried away from his chest by gentle hands, uncurled and left on the dirt floor to the side of the bed. The wound in his chest is not as severe as you had expected, a few centimeters deep, jagged as it curves upward… whoever had done this had not had the opportunity to properly pierce him before the offending weapon had been pried from their hands. Crushed. Followed by what you could only imagine was the attacker’s fretful shrieks when König advanced upon him.

Your fingers brush over the wound, gentle, as you inspect the blaze of red around its edges. There’s no clear indication of infection, but when a clay jar of honey is plucked from König’s belongings and brought to your hands, you dutifully dab the wound in its sweetness.

You tell him how it will heal, using the phrases you’ve only heard from the physicians about the city, failing to mention that you had not tended to someone like this before. He breathes his appreciation in a soft rumble when you wrap his chest in strips of cloth, tightening it comfortably just to tie at his side.

“Did you kill the man who did this?,” you ask once you’ve stripped yourself bare, shed your clothing to lie in a heap with the ruined bandages he had previously worn. Your body rests at his side, arm curled over his middle. A woman’s warmth was necessary to heal a warrior… perhaps it could remedy a forgotten god, too.

“All of them,” he hums into your hair, a whisper of a voice harboring words that should chill you to your very bones. König only appears pacified as he speaks, never minding his own madness, nor the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

You ask him what these men were like, who could have been capable of wounding a man as mighty as himself, and in turn he laughs. Surely, the gash must ache, but his voice never falters when he gathers you in two treelike limbs to pull your body ever-closer to his own.

He tells you that they were familiar, that your men in their dye red tunics held their spears and struck down some of his men but could not hope to best him.

He tells you of the cowardly ambush, how the warriors of your city turned upon his own with shouts and anger after a slave woman had been released. The way the woman spoke… as if she knew more about you than you ever had, how he could not bare to watch her suffer when she even resembled you in some ways: older, but still so very much like you. He had felt killing her captor to return her to the forest was the only way he could keep your favor.

While you listen in a stasis, stuck ridged against him as your mind drifts, pulls memory from the darker corners within your skull, he strokes at your shoulder, presses his nose right up to yours.

The man who had struck him was smaller… weaker, he had not survived König’s first blow, but… There’s a frothing madness in his eyes like the sky threatening storms when he tells you that he could not bear the thought of a man that would think to harm anyone like his goddess finding a way to return. His attacker was ripped limb from limb, body burned with the rest of those that followed his order.

You remain entirely silent, taking in this whispered tale as though it were breathed from the mouths of the gods themselves.

You never needed to pray to Mars, to Juno, to Vulcan…any of them. The embodiment of fear lies as a welcomed presence next to you, stroking along your back as though you were a mere kitten while he breathes this gory story against your lips. The smile returns when he finishes, pets at your jaw as if awaiting a reward for his perceived good deed… and you allow his madness to slip right past your teeth.

The touches brush over you like the featherlight breezes of the past spring, fingertips grazing from your waist to neck, nails leaving lightened stripes over the flesh he carefully claws at, gathering your skin, the meat from your bone, to roll between each pad of his digits. There’s further worship, a desperation to ensure that you are still here as he pants into your mouth, grips at your hip to pull you closer to where he aches the most.

There’s no pelt sprawled over his groin to hide himself from you, no thin linen to protect where he wishes to reach most. All you have is your words, and a thumb delicately rubbing over his bandage. When the kiss breaks, only then do you think to speak.

“When you’re better.”

The man makes his protests, gives his cock a few strokes as he hisses into your ear about promises, the horse, how long he’s dreamt and waited. You don’t need to be convinced, but now… your mind is riddled with what’s occurred in your months apart. Though the tension remains thick and wafting in the air between you, the physical could wait until you’re both sorted.

While you remained stuck and forlorn, struck by longing and misery, he had only found some semblance of meaning for all of what has eluded you, slayed every man who he could envision bringing you- anyone like you- harm, came back with another wound to fold over into a puffed scar.

You’ve only been waiting for your own sentencing.

Your warrior softens when your eyes begin to swim, fragile and overwhelmed as you’re tucked away beneath him. He only holds you, protective with an unwavering grip as the moon sweeps through the tent with its melancholic comfort that finally pulls the tears right from your eyes.

“Meine Göttin…,” he whispers against your temple, before you press your face into a broad shoulder, hiding tears and frail hiccuped sobs. “I prayed only to you.”

The words come barely audible, though they were never truly necessary.

You feel them in every touch, every hurried whisper as he coos his apologies in that keening voice, every kiss pressed over your warmed face when relaxation snares your limbs, and you do bloom further against him. The comfort and adoration is near staggering, taking you in and pulling you under, further below than even the rivers of your dreams and the ocean just out of reach could ever hope to.

As though this were the most natural thing…

The altars of your villa before were mere practice for the worship of lying next to your own deity; bastard son or Hercules, a wolf or a wild boar, none of it mattered.

He sighs, cups your face to kiss you just once more, something far more chaste than what you’ve come to know from him; the small peck to your lips holds more weight than the clatter of teeth and tongue from before. When you begin to drift off to a dream of a glade filled with nymphs where the trees breathe sap that tastes of honeysuckle, all bathed in the glow of starlight, you only feel the need to silently pray for one last thing: that he will never let you go.

— — —

It’s only on the seventh morning that you come to a realization over a breakfast of figs and water from the stream just below the hill— one that you haven’t been home. You feel at home enough here. The stuffy villa seems only a distant memory when you’re seated across from him, the giant who showers you in so much love it feels warmer than the great flames of Vulcan’s own fury.

No one has come to seek you out, either. Gaius had to have had an idea, should he have even bothered to search for you in that now desolate home. The few soldiers you have witnessed on their patrolling across the field never seem to turn an eye to the barbarian camp. You fill your pots with water, taking aid from König’s men, and never once have they turned to you.

Judgment always seemed so swift with all apart from destiny. You reason that this is surely what it must be, a destiny painted high above in the stars on nights where the mist does not curl up to conceal them from your gaze. You watch them sometimes, when König relaxes his grip in sleep: you turn to the outside of the tent to stare up at the expanse of stars and hear the stories of this nameless king from the mouths of the very men who have braved each storm with him.

They tell you in shattered language of stories you know with a certainty must not be entirely true. They range from talk of the hundred wives König supposedly had that he released all when he met you, of the temples built in his name all lined with gold and the names of jewels you had never once heard spoken, of how he had even slain your great god Jupiter… You have always listened with great amusement, wondering just how highly he must speak of you to have his men lie for him so brazenly.

Laughter follows you back to König’s tent each night, waiting to hear the cries of their king expending his love upon you that never come. You tend to his wound, observing its healing as the days come and go, and with each rebirth of the sun, his touch only seems to grow more imploring, his words sweeter than even the fruit held up in your palm.

In the haze of the morning sun spilling in from the parted flap of the tent, his eyes seem alight with an unnatural flame when he pulls you in to seat you upon one of his muscular thighs, far too rowdy for an injured man. You think not to refuse him when he laps at the juice from the fruit that has trickled down your chin.

“I love you.” He professes his devotion in that same pleading voice, an arm curled around your middle to keep you securely in place. Another thing that you never needed the words spoken to know.

You bring a fig up to his mouth, feed him with a kiss to his cheek and a whispered confession of your own. From the moment you saw him tending to his seax on the bank, your heart had become a howling, skittering animal in the cage of your ribs. You murmur words stolen from the poets against his jaw, about love and flowers, the mating dances of beasts and gods alike. With each word spun, he clutches you tighter, echoes them in his mother tongue.

The confession ends in a kiss that leaves you cloudy, aloft, a union of tongue and soft panting that leaves each nerve thrumming rapidly. The bowl of fruit slips from your lap, left to scatter over the ground forgotten.

König lowers you to lie back on the bed, teeth nipping and raking down along the column of your throat, over your pulse… back to your breasts that he caresses in two large palms.

“Not yet,” you remind him. His touch grows more insistent, thumbs pressed to your nipples to roll over them until your back arcs and your thighs tremble. “You’ll open your wound…”

“I am fine,” he huffs when he releases you from such delicious torture. “Let me…”

You can not bring yourself to tell him the true reasons as to why you can not. Not yet. You’re a mere stroll away from the city’s beckoning gates, from the place where you’re set to be wed only a fortnight from now. The mouth of Orcus that will drag you back in and keep you caged away from him… it would be too bittersweet to make your passions clear when your doom still imposes upon you with just a glance outside. If it ever comes… and you silently begged to any greater thing that it never would.

“When you’re healed… when you take me away from here,” you promise.

König listens in his own way. You see a flash of mischief when he separates from you with one final generous squeeze to your breast. This isn’t just the casual acceptance that comes with children being scolded, but an urgency to contend your words, a desire to prove himself buried in those shimmering eyes.

“Meine Göttin thinks that I am weak, hm?”

“That is not what I said.”

“I will show you.”

All at once, König rises from the mattress, casually shedding the bandage over his chest to discard it. You want to protest to whatever it is that he’s doing, but you knew very little of the minds of these men, their proclivities and desires, only that above all his intentions only seemed to be to prove himself worthy of worshiping at your feet, between your parted thighs…

As if to taunt you, the stiffened cock between his own legs bounces, drools when he stands. Your head spins as you force yourself to sit up and look into his eyes instead.

“What are you doing?,” you ask when he gathers his seax from the place he’s left it propped up, followed swiftly bu the pelt he usually donned around his middle with its leather straps and worn, gray fur.

“We will go on a hunt, hm? I will show you how…” He trails off with a grunt as he fastens the straps, finally conceals the pale, proud pillar when the fur comes to cover his groin. The seax follows as it’s tied to his narrow hip, the pommel glinting in low light as he approaches the opening of the tent and gestures for you to follow.

He should not be going on a hunt, and you… still did not even possess a weapon to aid in such an endeavor. Still, the thought of seeing him actually in the midst of a heated battle stills your breath for a moment, spurs you forward to follow along behind him.

The men around the camp speak with him for a time, prattling on in their mother tongue, gesturing out towards the trees with grins brimming with excitement. They all seem enticed by the prospect of felling some noble creature to drag back to their camp, make a true sacrifice for the goddess made mortal that lurks here. König dismisses them with a wave of his hand, clearly intent on being the only one to gift you such an offering.

He barks an order to the man that led you to his tent, and within moments this other man brings a Roman spear to your warrior, recognizable by its intricate engravings and barbed tip. König weighs it in his hands for a moment, glances back at you with a grin that simply screams his satisfaction of holding a trophy pried from the grip of one of your own detestable soldiers.

You follow after him through the dense forest bordering the clearing. The trees have long since shed their summer green, replaced instead by reds and golds, the dead falling to bathe the forest floor in bronze and brown. König walks slowly as to not cause too much sound to pass beneath the weight of his bulky body, encouraging you to do the same in a hushed demand with each crunching leaf beneath your soles.

Finally, he comes to a halt overlooking a small ridge that overlooks a small clearing. The brush and thickets rise high here, no doubt the birthing place of brambles and thorns, ground passive and untouched by all except the animals hiding within trees and bedded down in burrows. One still walks, awake and alert, a brilliant red stag with antlers more vast than even the horns of the bulls sent off to play war with the gladiators.

The creature is stationary, chewing cud with each movement of its dainty little jaw. It’s tail twitches, ears flicking on occasion when a bird swoops too close or the sound of a snapping twig out in the distance echoes through the forest. It’s a beautiful, delicate thing, but still strong and sturdy. The stag looks perfectly at peace here, not noting the wolf that watches over the ridge.

By the time that the deer does catch sight of König, it’s already too late. The arm holding the long spear is already pulled back and raised high. When the creature moves to resume its prance, the weapon is sent spiraling through the air, twisting and spinning in the absence of a breeze like a living thing until its point is found bedded in the stag's protruding belly.

The creature bleats in pain, writhes and kicks as it comes crashing down to a bed of brittle leaves that clamor beneath its weight. You close your eyes when you see the ground painted with blood from its seeping wound, and König begins to descend upon it. There are other sounds that follow, thudding blows in quick succession that leaves very little to your imagination; you’re only grateful he brought such a pretty thing a swift death.

You walk ahead of him on the way back to camp as he carries the animal’s corpse, politely telling him that if you look, you will not eat.

He gives his spoils to the other men once you’ve reached the camp again. They cheer, readying their blades to carve the creature up for a meal of venison and whatever amount of wine remains in their stores. The rations had been cut off since the others had failed to return, it wouldn’t be long until there was no wine left without one of them fetching work for coin within the city and purchasing it himself; still, König ensures that your cup is filled to the rim with it’s tart sweetness, grape with notes of something earthy, a mixture of thyme embedded into it to bless it with scent like a pomander.

You seat yourself in his lap, looking every part of a pretty earthen goddess as he presses his face to your bare shoulder, traces shapes into your hip while you sip from your cup. His men do not stare, either, regardless of your state of nudeness. There’s respect here, embedded into their flesh, their beliefs, and you only feel the part of a noblewoman when you take note of it. You are not just any man’s woman, but their leader’s most revered treasure.

The others pick apart your harvest of flesh, hang the skins to dry for further use, the antlers and bone left in a heap to be cleaned, then sharpened and carved. Your stare is appreciative as you watch them work away, never having seen this side of things from your modest villa. A fire is stoked when the usable meat is peeled away from what remains of the bones, ribs and femur, others that you could not hope to name.

“See?” König chimes as he takes hold of your hip, squishing you closer, tighter amidst the space of his palm. “Not weak..,” he hums into the hair at the back of your neck.

His touching grows more persistent, eager as the tips of his fingers graze your inner thigh; though appeased, you were not keen on the idea of straddling him before the eyes of his men as though you were only a breeding pair of foxes, screeching your passions into the forest for birds and bears to hear. When a throb resounds from his stroking, you wind yourself away to sit at his side instead, jaw resting on his knee and cup raised up to hide your breasts from his field of view.

“I did not say you were. Just hurt.”

He gives an impatient grunt in response, but allows you to linger in this new position, taking to stroke at your face and shoulders instead.

When the meat is cooked to their standards, still bloody and near raw to your own, the men chatter away between mouthfuls and thick swallows of their wine. You try to keep up, forcing yourself to commit some of their more common turns of phrase to mind— obvious yeses and nos, the way that they call one another, the names that would sound strange on your tongue but suit the others all the same. When your expression falls to confusion, König whispers translations into your ear; they’re discussing the Romans… what they will do if their rations are cut entirely, something about a deal struck before your interest summers and you resort to eating the venison you hood in silence.

It is not that you feel out of place, only lost. These men live in a separate world entirely: there is no talk of ironed out politics, organized festivities, of weddings an plotting for farmland. There is laughter here, even song when one of the trio seated across from you and König begins to bark out a loud chorus from a tune that your warrior so sweetly explains to you is about a woman who ventured out to elope with a cave-dwelling bear. Peculiar wild men that they were, you don’t even bother to question how that could ever possibly work.

When the afternoon sinks into the coziness of evening, you walk hand in hand with König back to his tent, and just as with any other night, there are cheerful, foreign goads and tedious little sounds elicited behind you. The wine had you peaceful for a time, but its haze has since passed. Your sheepishness is apparent at the implication, but the wolfish grin König shoots back at his men is anything but.

You know he expects to fulfill his promise entirely— make you his lover, wife, whatever he seems to see you as. That could not happen… as much as you thrum for him with each brush of his warm palm against your backside or upon your face, eternally gazing up at him with your dumb and doting stare.

To your credit: when his gaze crawls over you to take every bare expanse of flesh in, he only sees a beauty that he seemingly can not comprehend. The tells range from the tightening of his jaw, the twitch of each digit when they meet your skin, the way his nostrils glare and eyelids sag. His profession from earlier was anything except just that: it was a truth.

As he strips away his pelt and sets his blade aside, your hands rise to press against his shoulders, forbidding him to go any further than this simple reveal. And you speak true, explaining your exasperating engagement with the foul man who made certain you were spied upon, your distaste for your life within the walls itself, and lastly the marriage that would occur once the seasons did change.

Your eyes feel nothing short of pure liquid when you seat yourself upon his mattress for what you assume would be the very last time. Your voice tapers when you reveal that those very reasons were why you had come to him that night for the horse, why you came back even now.

König listens until your voice is reduced to a somber whisper, broken up by weak sniffles. The flirtation in his gaze is lost, and there’s no grin that splits apart his thin lips. You think that, if he asked you if you felt similarly to him then, that you would break down in full, but he doesn’t.

Instead he hisses something in his mother tongue, a singular word: “Scheiße.” Then, another laugh is coaxed from his throat, the dozenth that you must have heard this night alone. He seems fully unperturbed, unbothered when he descends upon you as if you were nothing more than the very deer he had slaughtered earlier.

“It is fine. Alles gut.” He covers your face in kisses, biting at your cheek when you squirm against him. “I can fight him, hm?”

Stupid… so terribly impulsive and cute. You sigh as if exasperated with him, but envelope him in your embrace anyway.

“I just want to be free of all of it,” you explain in a hushed voice.

“Then we will be free,” he confirms. We. No longer just yourself, and you almost bring yourself to ask if he has truly meant it before you're reminded of his declaration with a swift kiss that punches the air from your chest and leaves you shivering.

You hold him tighter still, fingers weaving into his hair to massage at his scalp and draw back in a tug when his head cocks to nip at your jaw. Again, always, he encompasses you, pulls you down into darkened water that warms and thumbs around you. You lose yourself more and more with each touch, thumb brushing over the pulse of your neck, teeth nipping at your clavicle, the brush of his groin as he rolls his hips to meet the plushness of your thigh.

You ache, cry when he guides your nipple into his mouth, languidly lapping over you until his salivating is evident over your tit. He only grows less patient the more vocal you become; one hand remains played to the side of your head while the other steadily slinks down past your naval, trails off to grasp at you hip and steer you closer before descending lower, where only his blade had dared venture before.

“I have dreamt of this, meine Göttin,” he purrs when he shifts his hips. His cock rests heavy over your thigh, weeping the sheerness of its own demand to paint your flesh. He guides your hand there to palm at his steadily growing arousal, curls your hand around his length and guides it up to stroke.

His chest rumbles his pleasure as he groans against your cheek; the sounds are somehow more surprising than the ones you had heard outside the brothels. Before König… never had you heard a man voice his pleasure, and though it may have been emasculating to some, it only makes you wet, there where his fingers reach to pet once he’s satisfied with the pace you’ve set as you pleasure him.

Your thumb grazed over the flushed tip, smearing the preejaculate that drools from it, his hips buck then. Your own sounds join his chorus when he ghosts a fingertip over the hood of your clit, buried his middle finger into your cunt. The entire ordeal is lazy, lazy as the slow kisses that connect your panting mouths.

With each twitch of your wrist as you milk his cock, you’re met with a finger probing deeper. At some point, one becomes two, a try for three before he draws back and realizes you’re too close to begin to take anymore.

“Tight..,” he appraises in a low voice, tongue lapping over your teeth as you writhe at his side.

You pick up pace at his praise, adoringly offering him your love with quickened sweeps of your hand, of your thumb over the weeping head, until he begins to throb in your hold. König mutters a curse against your jaw as he struggles to keep his hand steady then, bludgeoning you with his fingers, circling your clit until you begin to whine.

The heat builds within you so quickly you begin to see the night sky beneath your eyelids— an expanse of stars, of glowing blooms, and all at once the heat becomes too much. You curl into yourself, struggling to keep the demanding cock in your grip as you grind your hips down upon his hand to ride out your orgasm, bleary eyes and weakened by the intensity of it all you merely muffle your cries against his waiting mouth.

It takes no time at all for him to finish then, thick spurts of white seed paint up from your mound to your belly, coating your fingers in its stickiness. He hurts his teeth through it, intent on stifling the desperate little sounds building up in his throat, kisses you with even more fervor when you bless him with another tug to milk out every last viscous drop as it kicks and throbs in your hand.

He settles briefly, trailing kisses from your jaw to shoulder, then rises to part your legs with a strong grip around each thigh. For a moment, you almost think he’s prepared to fuck you proper, but the thought dissipates when he gathers his own seed over the head of his still hardened cock, settles it against your cunt, and grinds his seed against your salivating hole.

Your whine is clipped and almost pained when he brushes over your clit, hips rising to pull away when you feel the tickling burn of overstimulation. It doesn’t last; satisfied that he has left his spend close enough to your pussy that he may as well have laid claim to it, he crashes down over you, head pressed between your breasts.

König’s breath still comes in a pant while he huffs his affection for you: praises, those three wonderful words again and again. His tone is tender, reverent, as he tells you that he loves you… immediately following it with a stout and crude declaration of how roughly he will fuck you when the time does come.

“Do you mean what you said…?” You find your voice when he finally stops whispering the filth of his fantasies to you, when your cunt ceases its pleading for more. Right now… it would not be as special anyhow. Your fate still lies in the grasp of another, and as much as you wished for it to align in full with him, that simply was not so.

“Ja,” he answers immediately, no hesitation when he commits himself in full to you, the Roman woman who had tamed him down with her silly whims and ache for him. “I will take you to the mountains, the sea, …the stars if you ask.”

You comb your fingers through his hair, filled with mirth as he speaks of such impossibilities. There is no place in the stars for two misplaced lovers, but you don’t dare say that. The things that fill your imaginations would leave even the poets balking, scrambling for the words pretty enough to describe a love so peculiar.

— — —

You had not questioned why they remained, that was your folly.

You had never thought that you would even care should you see the city fall. Though… dread immediately strikes your heart with ice and silver when you’re bolted awake by the sound of shrill shrieks and loud crumbling. There’s a war just beyond the veil the tent provides: loud sounds of heavy feet, shouts, even the clash of metal upon metal if only for a single stuttering beat of your heart.

Vulcan has descended, rode right through on flaming steeds with flame rising from his open maw. You know it with a certainty without even approaching the opening to look. But you do. You do move away from the empty mattress, finding the space where König had slept against you, snoring softly and tugging you closer in your bliss, entirely devoid of any warmth. The air is warm, tinged with the heat of coursing flames, but the bed is cold, frigid like the fear that cinches at your heart and steals the breath from fluttering lungs.

There’s ash in the air, falling like the first snows of winter when you make your way out of the tent, coughing into your hand as it clasps over your mouth and nose. The air is so thick, noxious and darker than even the backdrop of velvety sable marking the horizon. Your eyes track the twisting, feathering pillars of flame as they rise even higher than the wall: a gold and red death.

Shadows scramble across the field— men, women, then the horses, the bulls, that come thundering past. The animals trample and shriek: broken bones, hooves driven through skulls to erupt into mush, leaving twitching, scorched corpses in their wake.

Fire billows up only to fall and rain down, back onto the murderous beasts in some abstract punishment. You watch the puppets writhe and squeal; perhaps your own cries join them, wailing and crying out as all you’ve come to know is engulfed, smothered, destroyed. What the fire does not take, the shattering structures do.

Amidst it all is glee.

There are shouts of men on horseback that come out as the victory roars of men amidst battle, yipping and howling as all is reduced to rubble around them. Your feet do not guide you toward the chaos, they do not bring you to peace either, only far— far as you can go.

The smell alone makes it worse than it ever appeared in your dreaming. Blood, oil, cinder and ash that plummets deep down into your stomach, pushing back up to purge what became of the deer. You feel how that creature must have: alone, terrified, certain that death was biting at your heels. If you had fur it would bristle, antlers would plow through the brush to carry you to safety, but… you do not. You’ve only the ability to gather yourself enough to fall. You descend down the hill in a painful roll as your legs give out beneath you.

You want to close your eyes, to sink into the stream and bid the fire away with desperation alone. When you lower to the grass to wretch, fingers digging into the earth, your gaze snaps back to the scene just beyond the stream.

You know, know dreadfully well that the people here that have managed to escape were hunted down in a veil of inky blackness. The ghouls of myth could not compare to this… This was very real, real as the scent of cooking meat and hair and wood.

And you watch and wait for the fire to burn out, for the animals to cease their rampage and fall back to a calm that never comes.

You stand to your feet, meekly trembling before the wrath and chaos, and you wait with splintering nails clawing at your thighs and unshed tears blurring your vision. There was always a price to pay for freedom, you had seen it time and time again in gladiator pits, monetary and dull, but never this…

And you know the price for yours was paid in fire and vengeance, promised before you ever even had the notion to disappear at all. There was always tension between the Goths and your people. This was bound to come about sooner or later, but the guilt of potentially being the catalyst to it all brings you back to your knees.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring out into the abyss in silenced fear, but eventually all that fills the quiet is the dull roar of the fires still burning and the dull sounds of a horse’s trot growing nearer. Just across the bubbling little stream, untouched by the death beneath the full moon, is König atop his sable steed. The creature huffs just as König cocks his shrouded head, prompting you in his silence to say anything— deliver your blessing, your thanks, your kisses.

Yet, you can not bring yourself to deliver anything but a weak, anguished wail.

The stream is crossed before you’ve even the time to raise your head, limbs gathering you up to pull you against the broad chest of your god in the cruelest tenderness. You feel limp there, atop this frustrated horse, in the arms of the man who had sacked this city. They will come for him, kill him too… You will be alone with nothing and no one, and stupidly, you find yourself longing for the comfort of calling to Juno in that bedroom you would never see again. All of this just for pleading for the very horse you now perch upon.

He lets you cry as holds the reins in one hand and carries you away from this desolation. The horse walks further than you have ever even seen. The stream before the barbarian camp is not the only, there are orchards and glades and fields of tall grass even further beyond it. You take in the beauty as the city becomes a glimmering speck far behind you.

König only remains silent, stroking your back with his free hand, so lovingly and gentle you find it almost impossible to believe him capable of such cruelty. Your mind is tired, limbs weighty and chest aching from breathing in so much smoke. You do not even realize your exhaustion until you find yourself in a fitful sleep.

There are no dreams, no wonderful comforts, only slow breaths and pained whimpers.

When you do wake, the sun has risen in full.

You’re lying on your back amidst withering grass, a pelt thrown over your body and a figure sat at your side. There’s no longer the stench of smoke, no drab gray clouds hanging over your head. The air is light and tinged with the tartness of buckthorn. There are white, puffy clouds hanging up in the vast blue of the sky, and as you blink, a thumb moves to stroke at your cheek. Soft, so soft and even tentative when it rises to your temple.

“You should have slept longer.” König’s voice comes, not reprimanding, but in a gentle surge of breath. He sounds as exhausted as you still feel.

You’re angry… but you know not why. It feels performative, almost, when you shove his hand away. You want to wail for what you’ve lost, but that voice never comes. Gaius? A home you never liked? The lectus that would be used as a stand to consummate a marriage you had begged to avoid for months on end? What was lost?

“You are going to die.” Your whisper comes strained, tight and tinged with your own misery.

“You worry for me again?”

You shake your head at that, fierce as you turn on your side and away from him again. The dying grass digs into your flesh beneath the fur, scraping like claws, like König’s very touch.

“We are not going to die, little one,” he continues as he moves closer to you, trying to gather you up into his arms in an act of comfort. Your tension rigidly leaves you, though you try to force yourself to remain closed off, it does not happen. You mold against him when he lies at your back, hand splayed over your stomach.

“I never said we. Just you,” you huff. Your hand meets his wrist as his thumb begins to stroke at your naval. The desire to push him away again only dissolves when he winds out of your grip to take your hand into his own, forced lower to feel the cold earth and the warmth of each digit beneath your touch. “They will hunt you down.”

“Then I will die at your side.”

You don’t respond to that, finding his desire to further prove whatever this was entirely incomprehensible now. It is not endearing, you force your mind to reason. This man was more than just tedious at times, but dangerous to… To burn an entire city on a whim then curl against you like this… You whimper, keening and sorrowful as you squeeze your eyes shut— force the macabre thoughts out.

“You are like me,” König continues, a low rumble as he lowers his head to press his cheek to the side of your neck. Even amidst the chill of winter, he’s so warm, so soothing, enough to make you melt like wax from candles… perfumed by his own sweat and the ash he left in his wake, so earthy and lofty all the same. “Kleine Göttin…”

“No… I’m not.”

“You come from the mountain,” he urges with a kiss to your shoulder. His grip around you becomes more insistent with each muttered word, the pads of his fingers pressed further to dimple your skin. “The slave woman told me so.”

You didn’t know the woman he spoke of, you didn’t know anyone still living apart from himself and his men. You want to yell, to drill it into his very skull with your words, but even more than that, you want this comfort.

You want to feed him figs, allow his tongue to sip the wine from your own, and to fall asleep against him with his breath tickling at your scalp. More, to share the life with him you once promised to a deceased man buried in ash…

Truth be told you were not even sure of your standing, Roman or barbarian… Though you had never told him that, his resolute tone leads you to believe all of it. You had always longed to bathe in rivers rather than crowded bathhouses, to crest the tops of mountains and taste fresh honey on your tongue… The titan promises you all of those things and more with his tight hold and in a purred, breathy, “I love you.”

All that you could not prevent dissipates in a plume when you twist around to bury your face against that chest, curl your fingers into his hair and breathe out your resistance in its entirety. The most pitiful of surrenders.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other

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luversgirl · 2 years ago

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TO BE SO LONELY, rafe cameron

summary: after all the pogues forget the youngest roguelege girl’s birthday she goes to the beach only to see someone she never expected remembered her special day.

notes: here’s me randomly dropping this since i’ve been lurking lately

warnings: y/n kinda maybe being dramatic?

“GOOD morning” y/n smiled as she watched her older brother walk into the kitchen.

“uh huh” john mumbled as she walked past the girl barely agnolaging her precise.

“where are you going?” the girl asked as the boy slip his shoes on and grabbed is keys from the counter.

“i’m gonna pick up jj and meet kiara and pope at the beach”

“what about me?” y/n looked at her brother as he opened the front door.

“um…” john b turned his head to look at his little sister “you can just chill here” he spoke before walking out of the chatue leaving the girl there alone not even giving her time to reply.

“happy birthday to me”

after texting the rest of the pogues to see if they remembered the girl’s birthday or even wanted to hangout, but of course they all forgot and didn’t seem to even want to be around her.

sighing, y/n placed her phone face down in the purple beach towel he was sitting on and brought her knees to her chest.

y/n was never one of those self centered people who expected all the attention on her she was just hoping to have a nice birthday seeing as it was the first one without her father, big john.

ever since he’d gone missing y/n watched her brother drifting farther and father away from her taking their, or dare she say his friends now.

leaving her alone.

as the girl stared off into the distance rafe cameron stood not to far from her wondering why she was sitting alone on her birthday.

“y/n” the familiar voice of the kook king came from behind the girl.

she quickly wiped her tears and turned to look up at him from her spot.

“rafe, please don’t start you’re shit just leav-“

“i wasn’t gonna start anything” rafe walked towards her up to the point where he was still standing but by her side.

“what are you doing?“ y/n asked as she watched the cameron boy sit beside her in the same position, knees to his chest.

“i’m sitting with you on you’re birthday”

the rougtledge girl instantly wiped her head to look at rafe in shock.

“h- how did you…”

“i remembered from last year” he said making a small smile make its way onto y/n’s face “it’s still the same day, yeah?” rafe joked making y/n giggled for the first time that day.

“yeah” she spoke through her light giggle making rafe smile.

“good, good” rafe looked at y/n as she looked at the scene in front of them “so.. where’s your little pogue friends?” rafe watched as the small smile on her face disappeared.

“um they went… out” y/n spoke as her smile dropped as she turned her head to looking back at the water.

“i think you’re lying” he stated arms wrapped around his knees closer as they touched his chest.

y/n sighed giving in “they, uh forgot”.

“what do you mean they forgot?” rafe ferwwod his eyebrows as he quickly turned his head to look at the girl.

“i think you know what i mean rafe” y/n chuckled lightly looking at him.

“how could they just forget? i mea-“

“rafe” y/n stopped him in his rant.

“no y/n, their you’re friends they should remember you’re birthday, even you remembered my birthday and i’m well uh…” rafe trailed off.

“…not the nicest person?” y/n spoke slowly hoping not to offend rafe since she didn’t have anyone else to talk too.

rafe reached his hand up scratching the back of his neck “yeah”.

“well not that this wasn’t the most awkward thing in the world…” y/n trailed off as she started to get up.

“wait!” rafe quickly exclaimed standing up as y/n did “do uh, maybe want a ride?” the cameron boy spoke.

“that would be great actually” y/n smiled at rafe making him grin and look down “my bikes over here” rafe and the girl started walking to his car.

“where did she go?” john b questioned for the 30th time in the same hour as him and the rest of the pogues sat in the chatue.

“john b don’t worry about it, i’m sure she’s with some other friends” jj spoke as he sat on one of the three couches in the sun room smoking a joint.

“yeah i mean she’s probably just hanging out with some other friends or something and forgot to text” sarah said as she sat beside john b.

“do her friends include rafe?” pope spoke up sitting up from beside jj looking past john b and sarah.

the rest of the group turned to look in to same direction as pope only to see y/n leaning against rafe’s dirt bike holding a bag from a boutique sarah recognized as he looked at her like she was the only girl in the universe.

“oh fuck no” john b muttered before jumping off the couch with the pogues following along “get away from my sister rafe!” he yelled at the standing pair.

y/n quickly turned away from rafe and to her brother annoyed at his loud antics and decided to give him and the pogues a piece of her mind.

“fuck off john b!” she yelled back walking towards the group with rafe filling beside her.

“you got this?” rafe muttered into y/n’s ear as they walked over close together.

y/n turned to look at him and nodded then slipping her hand into his making him grin.

“what the hell!” jj yelled as the group and y/n met along with rafe.

“what are you doing!? y/n that’s rafe!” kiara yelled at the girl confused and angry at her.

“yeah no shit kie!” y/n yelled back surprising the group with the out burst seeing as they’ve never seen her like that before.

“y/n, do you not remember what he’s done to us?!” pope yelled very angry with his younger sister.

“actually i remember what he’s done to you and honestly why should i care?!” the girl yelled back at pogues now angry with her as well as rafe.

“he’s literally the scum of the earth!” jj yelled making y/n squeeze rafe’s hand.

“well you know at least he can remember someone’s birthday!” y/n finally burst as she stared to tear up.

“someones birthday why does tha-“ john b started to yell.

“yeah, john b someone’s birthday. it’s not like they celebrate every single one their friends birthdays and spend ours panning partys for them and working triple shifts to get the money to buy them gifts!” the girl yelled not holding back.

“y/n we-“

“save it jj” y/n spoke not bothering to raise her voice.

“i do everything for you guys, i cook, i clean and i even do all you’re fucking laundry but now i’m done” y/n finished as salty trail made their way down her face.

seeing the girl in front of him, rafe lightly tugged on y/ns hand silently asking if she wanted to leave.

the roughtled girl accepted his offer turning way from the people she thought were her friends walking over the rafe’s bike and leaving with a single one of them stopping her.

taglist: @faeaura @prettyboystarkey @euthoricspidey @pankowfruitsnacks @rafecameronswhore @yunho-leeknow @outeredits-jess @totallynotkaibiased

#rafe cameron imagines #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron headcanon #obx rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #jj maybank imagines #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine

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yuanology · 1 year ago

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I imagine spanking Satoru in my lap while whispering lewd things about him being a pervert while the only thing he can do is sob and bite my shoulder ,bby is so lost in pleasure he wishes to end up as satisfied as his best friend who is laying asleep in front of him but bby is so new he is ashamed of asking so force him into telling what he wants and then like …corruption kink akksnwkaoaoao😋🐸 idkkkk 🫨

hey ...... i'm sorry in advance for this one. i don't fucking know what this is either. also, this ended up being an entirely separate thing from the original satosugu fic & this is just........ afab!satoru getting his cunt slapped raw while suguru—who's implied to have been fucked by reader earlier—is passed the fuck out. &. i ended up writing this as a teacher!suguru au a.k.a everything goes well au so yeah, don't get confused

despite common first impression, twenty-eight years old gojo "the strongest" satoru had never been touched by anyone before. yes, you heard that right. he was still a virgin; pure and untouched.

before he came to jujutsu tech—before he left home, before he found out about the world, before he realised that he was practically a damn princess stuck in his tower—satoru hadn't even thought of the art of carnal pleasure. he had thought it was just something that happened, not something to indulge himself in.

growing up amongst people his age had been an awakening, that was for certain. his hands started wrapping around himself more often, the collar of his shirt caught between his teeth as he stifled the noise escaping his throat. porn became a commodity, and satoru wasn't exactly oblivious to it, he just never had the time or opportunity to try it.

until you.

satoru let loose another sob, tears streaking down his face. his teeth was caught around the meat of your shoulder, and he could barely breathe around it, much less speak coherently. he still whimpered, "too much."

"you wanted this," you reminded him, your voice low and dirty and so, so fucking real that it's driving him insane. nothing—nothing, no lewd images or videos or even his own imagination—could compare to the feeling of you right now. "you asked me for this, baby."

and you were right. he had asked for this, craving your closeness just as much as he craved the feeling of your hands on him. he had asked you for this, physically and audibly begged you to give him a taste of the things that he had seen and watched all these years.

finally, satoru had thought to himself when he met you properly for the first time. finally, someone who can understand. who can finally give me what i need. it hadn't taken much time before he was on his knees, begging for you to give him everything and so much more. men like gojo satoru didn't make a habit out of begging, but you were an exception amongst many others.

your only response had been a raised, unimpressed eyebrow before you told him that you would consider it. he didn't blame you for it. it wasn't as if your relationship with his own best friend, suguru, was a secret, even if it wasn't official. but satoru had to try.

(and he had asked suguru about it already, kicking at the floorboard underneath him with an out-of-character show of shyness, until suguru had laughed at him, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "yeah, sure. what's mine is yours and all that—if you can get him to agree, that is." so.)

but when he had asked you to show him what it meant to feel good hurt during sex, he had never expected you to do this to him—to be so mean and so fucking rough, to be so, so desperately cruel to him in ways that he had never seen you do to anyone else.

fuck, satoru thought dazedly. the position—his body bent over your lap, his ass high in the air and his cunt flushes, twitching, and so fucking exposed—had him distinctly dizzy, his head dropping at an awkward angle on the mattress but he didn't care.

he blinked away the tears in his eyes, but the slumped figure of his best friend's body passed out a behind you on the bed remained blurry. how the fuck do you handle this? he wondered.

he let out another whimper when your hand met the meat of his ass, and he could feel it fucking jiggle. he found it so humiliating, but you must think otherwise because you groped his asscheek with an air of smugness. you pried his ass apart, making him grimace when he felt his slick slide down his thigh, betraying him.

"look at you, baby," you cooed, chuckling to yourself. "you're fucking dripping all over the place. you're so desperate for it, huh? pretty virgin like you probably doesn't even know what it's like to be touched like this."

your voice was a light musing, distinctly distant and almost detached in your amusement, but satoru couldn't help but feel raw all over; an exposed nerve ready to be flayed over an open fire. he was sensitive, each inch of his skin a weakness that leaves him feel vulnerable.

"hurts," satoru croaked out miserably, feeling a bit like a fool for saying it. his words are garbled, slurred—almost watery in a way satoru hadn't known was possible before.

"hm." your hand left his hand, making a whine escape the back of satoru's throat. his voice returned to something subdued, something calmer, when he realised that you're simply moving to rest your hand on the small of his back.

"i suppose i can give you mercy," you said, your voice a low drawl that sent goosebumps racing along his skin. "just this once."

satoru couldn't help the whimper that escaped him. even through the heavy haze in his mind, he knew that he couldn't have this without a price. you always demanded an equal pay be returned for the price of your kindness. he had watched you wring dry orgasm after orgasm out of suguru, even when his best friend's body was limp, practically motionless save for the overstimulated twitches and the sobs that escaped suguru's throat, all in exchange for having satoru there with them tonight.

you must notice the sudden shift in his attitude, the way his ass was wriggling in the air almost desperately, because you snickered and your hand pressed him down harder against your lap. fuck, he thinks, feeling himself dripping all over the place at the feeling of you.

"how about this," you offered. "five more spankings, and i want you to count. if you miss one, we'll start over." your hand caressed the swell of his ass, your movements gentle as you soothed the spank marks you had left there earlier.

as much as satoru knew he shouldn't believe you, he still couldn't help the way he sniffled at the feeling and asked, "promise?"

you chuckled, the sound soft. your lips met the skin on his back, right over his spine. "sure, baby," you said. "i promise. just five more, okay? you'll be a good boy, won't you, satoru? you'll stay still for me?"

satoru nodded eagerly, chewing at this lower lip at the sound of your praise. good boy. yes, he could be your good boy. he would always be your good boy.

although he couldn't see it, he knew your smile was there when you said, "good. don't forget to count, okay, baby?" which, really, should have been the first sign of something dangerous looming.

the sound of your hand slapping his skin was promptly followed by a fucking howl that was stripped out of his throat; loud and jagged and surprised and so fucked over that satoru's head throbbed with it.

because jesus motherfucking fuck, you just slapped his cunt.

"count, baby."

satoru could barely even think past the static ringing in his air, stuffing his brain full with cloth, but he thought he might have choked out a whimpering, "one."

your hand moved once again to his cunt, he motion gentler this time. you didn't spank him again but rather, you spread his legs, exposing more of his cunt, and he whimpers in anticipation.

but your fingers only breach the lips of his cunt, spreading his labia apart to look at the slick already dripping the moment his folds were parted. you cooed at him, and satoru felt himself burning with so much fucking feelings that he couldn't even identify a proper source for it.

holy shit.

"four more," you whispered, your thumb dragging along his slit down to his clit. you rubbed it for a moment, causing satoru to whine at the feeling. "just a bit more, okay, baby?"

he didn't know if he nodded, or if he just lay there across your lap—rooted in place and feeling lightheaded, entirely motionless—but you must have found something you wanted to see from him because he could feel you moving again.

anticipating what would come after didn't make it any easier to handle.

your palm met the centre of his cunt perfectly, the tips of your fingers catching his clit, and satoru sobbed. "two," he quickly scrambled to rasp out before you could make him repeat it, before you could make him start all over. "two, that's—" he catches his breath, tongue feeling swollen in his mouth. "that's two."

"good boy."

another slap, making his back arch and his body squirm away from the sensation. the sound was fucking disgusting, even more so now that the slick accumulating on his cunt had created a pillow for your hand to rest on, creating a loud squelching sound that made satoru's toes curl.

"three," satoru whimpered. "it hurts."

"just two more," you reassured him, your fingers grazing over his entrance but never once dipping inside. fuck. "can you do that for me?"

satoru sniffled, but he nodded. "two more," he repeated.

"good boy."

your next slap came in sharp and quick, and he barely managed to blurt out, "four." before he collapses into sobs. his body is slumped, weak and unable to even twitch.

one more, he thought. just one more.

letting out a ragged breath, satoru's voice bleeds into a high keen when he feels you pull back the hood over his clit, exposing the sensitive nerve. the realisation of what you're about to do strikes him a second, too late.

no, you're going to—

your entire fucking palm met his exposed clit, sending up a burning sensation across the length of satoru's spine. "five!" satoru shouted, a little desperate, a lot hurt, equal measures of feeling fucked right out of his mind.

"fuck, that's five. that's—" he couldn't even finish his sentence, already broken off to sobs and whimpers as his entire fucking body trembles at the feeling of it. fuck. every inch of him felt numb; all of the hurt centred on the feeling of your slap on his clit.

the world is a hazy blur of static and cotton and distance for a long moment. when satoru's world comes back into focus, he's still on your lap, but seated now, positioned in a way that saved his cunt from any accidental stimulation. his mouth parted and drool dripping down the corners of your lips, but your hands are on his his back, keeping him close, and you're murmuring sweet nothings to him.

and he must have done something—something right, something wrong—because he feels himself going weightless and then your lips are brushing over the shell of his ear, and you're telling him, "get your rest, satoru. you deserve it."

oh, satoru thought dazedly, feeling the world drift in and out of motion for a long moment. this is why. because for all your cruelty and all your harshness, you were exceptionally gentle in the aftermath. satoru's vision is blurring around the edges, but he feels you all the same—warm and present and there.

"g'night," he thought he might've slurred out.

he might imagine the feeling of your lips on his temple, but he liked to think that it was real all the same.

#gentle ending because i need that sweetness after a rough scene #or something #idk if this is what you wanted or if this makes sense but .#have this #gojo satoru x reader #sub gojo satoru #sub jjk #top reader #male reader #dom reader #( thirsts. )#( asks. )

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grainscharacter · 5 months ago

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Pearl would like to say (very loudly, for the people in the back) that she thinks she knows Grian pretty well. She’s been friends with him for, oh, over half of both of their lives. She would go to hell for him, and he’s already been to hell for her.

So she would like to know—and she’s not particularly upset, it’s just that, when you learn something completely new about your friend that someone definitely should have told you to save you a heart attack you’re going to experience some strong emotions—she would like to know why Grian is perched on top of Mumbo.

She did not sign up for this.

She signed up for—well. She’s not exactly sure, but not this. When Mumbo had asked, earlier, if anyone had any spare cobble they didn’t mind giving away, Pearl had said that she would bring some over. She had said this under the expectation she would be bringing it over to Mumbo. Not a Mumbo-and-Grian monster.

“Hey,” she says, and doesn’t bother to hide her stare. “Mumbo?”

They turn. It looks like a practiced move. Grian’s wings flare out a bit when Mumbo turns, but he does it slowly, nothing like the hyper, constant movement she’s used to seeing in him.

Maybe Grian’s like a weighted vest.

Maybe Pearl needs to spend a little less time hanging out with Gem and Tango. That’s not a normal thought to have.

“Oh!” says Mumbo. Grian’s hand is resting on his head, just barely not covering his eyes. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting you ‘till a little bit later—normally you’re asleep by now—but don’t worry i still have the. Well. I haven’t got the chests set up yet but I can do it really quickly, don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” says Pearl. Is she dreaming? She thinks she might be dreaming. “I can wait—I’ve not got anything else to do right now. Wanted to get you the cobble before you went to bed.”

Grian chirps a little, at that, a soft giggle that seems to catch him off guard. “Don’t worry. Mumbo’s very awake right now,” he says.

“Yes…” she drags out the e sound. Grian’s wings flare a bit. “About that.”

“What?” asks Grian. His head tilts, like a puppy. “Oh! He was troubleshooting redstone. I’m his rubber ducky.”

Pearl very carefully does not say that that explains nothing. Mumbo bends his knees to get into a chest, probably because he can’t lean over without knocking Grian off. Why on earth has he not pushed Grian off his shoulders?

Grian unlatches a shulker that’s at his eye level while Mumbo rummages in a chest. “Oh! Mumbo, in here,” he drops a few chests into Mumbo’s hands.

“Perfect! Here, I’ll let you put the cobble down here, I’m not going to steal your shulkers.”

“But you steal my shulkers all the time!” Grian says with mock-offense.

“I maintain it doesn’t count as stealing if you don’t realize it’s gone! Your chest monster is so large you didn’t notice I was stealing them until I told you!”

Right. Okay. This is just normal, then. Grian on Mumbo’s shoulders. It can’t be good for his back—Grian’s that is, he’s hunched over almost to an extreme, and his wings are flared out wide for balance. It doesn’t look comfortable. That being said, he looks completely at ease. Both of them do.

Pearl wonders about the mechanics of that. How did Grian get up? How did this start? When did this start? Grian had never done this before Hermitcraft!

…Grian must be really light or—oh gods, did Mumbo secretly have massive muscles under his suit?

Pearl does not want to think about that. She dumps all of the cobble in the chest Mumbo graciously provided, and then leaves. At speed.

She hears the combined call of their goodbyes for far longer than she thinks should be possible.

What in the world?

…

> PearlescentMoon -> Grian: How does it feel being tall for once?

> Grian -> PearlescentMoon: SHUT UP

#hermitfic #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft season 10 #ottowrites

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leclerity · 2 months ago

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a promise of what’s to come

Charles Leclerc x Norris!Reader count: 1.7k words summary: After the podium celebrations, you join your brother at a club, where a certain driver is testing what's left of your resolve after a year's worth of sexual tension. a/n: this talks about alcohol consumption, with spice, so 18+. let me know if you want more like this one!

You see him in the club—the way he’s looking at you, undressing you with his eyes even across half the dance floor—and you see yourself on your knees in his bedroom, knowing fully well that it can’t—won’t—happen.

Not with Lando’s arm around your shoulders, asking you to join him and his driver mates, like any good younger brother would.

But if you do, if you walk over there where Charles’s hands look so ready to latch onto any part of your body they can get on, then you know things could get very, very ugly.

It never officially began, the thing between you two, but it might’ve started some year or so ago.

It was always just stolen glances and smiles that shouldn’t have meant anything, but did. You’d see him around the paddock and the events your family attended with the drivers, and he’d only ever be so polite, greeting you as if you were a true lady.

“You need to stop making the eyes at Charles,” Lando had told you, once. “I don’t want my sister getting in with a driver.”

“Just because you’re a heartbreaker, doesn’t mean they all are,” you fired back.

“Take that back.”

“Stop telling me what I can and can’t do.”

It became a squabble and ended up with you pinned down, apologising, and Lando saying that he’s not here to tell you what to do, but doesn’t want you to get hurt.

A few months down the line, it started to feel like you shared a secret kind of language with the Monegasque. It’d be in the paddock, where his eyes would find you and stare, openly, watching you as you did whatever it was you were doing. You’d sometimes stare at him, too, and the way he held himself told you he knew you were doing it, too.

It became a game. It wasn’t hidden glances anymore, but open invitations, open declarations that there was something. You’d fix your lipstick in the handheld mirror, watching his eyes through it. His gaze was the same as always, but when there were fewer people around, it would sharpen, as if honing in on you.

Then it became touches. Just in the passing, accidents, where his hands grazed the small of your back or your ass, while you’d stumble against his chest and apologise with no intent.

If Lando noticed, he never said anything.

You knew there was something.

He was on a few thrones and you came to watch, and his eyes would search the crowd until finding you and he’d raise the trophy with your eyes interlocked, as if taunting you. Challenging you. Come celebrate with me, Y/N Norris.

You never did.

But this time it’s both of them on the podium, with Oscar between them, and you were dragged to the club despite your protests – despite knowing Charles would be there, and alcohol would be involved, and you’re not trusting yourself to keep your hands to yourself in that combination.

“Let’s join the others,” Lando says.

You can’t say no.

He brings you to the circle and you say hi, but Lando’s already twirling you around. Charles’s eyes are on you, never dropping, never looking elsewhere. You feel your skin burning under his gaze but it gives you energy, and you part from Lando and feel the confidence to be sultry, to perform.

If anyone else is watching, you don’t know and you don’t care.

Charles is barely moving, but he is – closer to you.

His hands are gentle, tentative as he twirls you, experimenting with amount of pressure he gives into the touch. You dance closer and his breath is on your ear, cheek against cheek briefly before he spins you again.

You know Lando’s watching.

You don’t want to think about what would happen if he weren’t.

“I saw you at the podium today,” he says.

“What about it?”

Charles brings you closer. “You were watching me.”

“No.” You give him a gentle push, but he spins you around, chest to back, making it seem like a dance move. “I was watching Lando.”

His lips brush your ear. “Little liar.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do. I know so much more than you think.”

His hands are on your waist and they’re slipping, sliding down, they’re at your thigh, inching closer—

You push him away. “My brother is here.”

“We can go somehwere he isn’t.”

That, with the look in his eyes—the darkness—it makes your head spin, and you’ve had hardly anything to drink.

You waggle your finger at him and back away, closer to Lando and the rest of the group. Lando hands you your drink and you down it, but you don’t get the next one just yet. No – Charles is watching you, and Lando is thankfully to busy to watch either of you.

Charles walks up to you, that sly hand on the middle of your back. “Can I get you another one?”

You hand it to him and he’s away with a kiss to your cheek, eyes darting to see if Lando’s noticed. He hasn’t – but if Charles keeps it up, he will.

People like Charles and Lando don’t have to wait around in a queue, so your drink is back in your hand within minutes. The others are doing shots and you refuse, as does Charles, and you’re watching your brother get drunker – and Charles’s attention intenser.

Your body is on fire. It’s a mixture of alcohol, dancing, and the crowd, but you know it’s mostly from the way Charles undresses you with his eyes. If you were alone, the way his hands keep passing a little too close to you, you know things would escalate.

You promised to Lando they wouldn’t.

But if Lando didn’t know…

If you were to be honest – it was starting to become a struggle.

Charles looked at you and grinned, beckoning you to come closer, and there it was: your resolve crumbling to ashes. You approached him and he danced with you at a respectable distance, but you knew it was all just pretend. You could see it on his face, in the linger of his touch, in the way his eyes gleamed when you twirled and he’d look you up and down, all around.

Lando went to get drinks, and so did the rest of your group.

You had minutes.

“Meet me outside in five minutes,” you whispered to him.

“What?”

“You letting me change my mind, Leclerc?”

“No,” he breathed. “Not if we want the same thing.”

You give him a kiss on the cheek so chaste it nearly explodes with sexual tension. He steadies himself with his hand on your waist and when you pull away, his lips land on yours, unyielding. It’s sloppy and quick but it’s a promise of what’s to come, and you take it.

Lando’s still at the bar when you tell him goodnight, congratulate him once more, and promise to text when you’re home and no, you don’t need a chaffeur, you’re perfectly capable on your own.

The air outside is crisp and chill, and you’re counting down the minutes, wondering if this was all a big mistake.

It couldn’t be.

Not with the way things have been.

At five minutes, on the dot, Charles is outside and he’s around you and he’s kissing you with your back pressed against the windows of a parked car, your skirt hiked high where his fingers had buried themselves.

“Charles,” you moan. “We need to—”

He kisses you quiet. “I know. I know.”

“Someone could—”

“Stop talking.”

“Charles—”

“Trust me.”

Lando’s inside and there weren’t people who could see, so you let him leave gentle bites on your neck until a car honks and he helps you in, then he’s looking at you as if giving you the choice.

You give the driver your address.

Charles pulls up the privacy window.

His mouth is all over you and so is yours, your clothes crumbled, hiked up, half-discarded. You’re all touch and taste and pleasure and by the sounds of it, so is he. His hands are warm and gentle but determined, and so is his mouth, on you he hadn’t eaten in days – and when you return the favour, your mascara trailing down your cheeks, his moans of pleasure make you nearly there with mere anticipation.

The car pulls up and Charles motions for the driver to go, and then you’re leading him up the stairs and there you are again, making out, his fingers under your skirt, keeping you pleased and stretched for him.

You fumble with your keys and so does he, but you’re in and you’re locked and you’re on the bed and you’re showing him where the condoms are and you want to take your clothes off, but he says no.

He says, “That’s my job.”

So you wait until he’s kissing you as your clothes come off, piece by piece, traded in for kisses and soft pleasure. He gives you a push so that you’re on your back and he spends a few seconds devouring your body with his eyes, just like he’d done at the club.

The condom is in his hand, and he’s about to take his boxers off, and your core is throbbing at the mere thought of it.

He puts a hand on your cheek. “You sure?”

“Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been sure for a very, very long time, but if you wait another moment I might—”

He doesn’t. He’s on you, kissing you, cradling your body, and he’s inside you and it’s glorious. You feel a moment of resentment towards yourself, for spending so long telling yourself you didn’t want this, but he grabs your chin, makes you look him in the eye as he thrusts, and any comprehensive thought you had is gone.

It’s you, and him.

The rest of the world can go fuck itself.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #m.fic

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sluttywonwoo · 2 years ago

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no nut november — i.n (loser #2)

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), dry humping, messing around with clothes on

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i's collab <3

word count: 2.9k

To say you were suspicious when Minho approached you at the surprise birthday party Jisung threw for him (over a week late) would be an understatement. He was one of the friends who would only come to you when he needed something, and you assumed this time was no different.

“Happy birthday?” you offer, wondering if that’s what he was expecting.

He’s unfazed by your greeting in the form of a question and just smiles, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Thanks.”

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to get to whatever it was he wanted from you but he stares right back with that stupid grin of his.

“So, um, were you surprised?”

“Not really. Hannie talks in his sleep and he crashed while we were watching a movie together the other night. But hey, anyway, you like Jeongin, right?”

You’d have whiplash by now if you weren’t so used to Minho’s abrupt subject changes. This one, however, did manage to catch you a bit off guard.

“Of course I do. He’s a good friend.”

“But you like him as more than a friend.” He wasn’t asking, he was stating.

You blink, stunned. “Wh- I don’t-”

“Come on, don’t play dumb. I can see the way you look at him when you think no one’s paying attention.”

Well fuck. If Minho of all people had noticed your crush on Jeongin, who else knew? Did Jeongin know? Did everybody know?

“Relax, I'm not going to tell him,” he continues when he sees the look on your face. That wasn’t necessarily what you were worried about but good to know nonetheless. He sneaks a look at the younger member from across the room as he talks. “I just thought that you should know that he likes you too.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“You know I’m like one of his best friends, right?

“I-I mean, yeah, but...”

“And we live together, he literally never shuts up about you,” Minho adds. He raises his eyebrows expectantly but you don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t believe you… it’s just, why are you telling me?”

Minho shrugs. “Think of it as a favor.”

“Since when have you done anyone a favor?”

“Ouch.”

“I’m serious,” you insist warily. “You’re acting weird. Why are you suddenly so invested in me and Jeongin? You have to have some kind of stake in this.”

Minho sighs and drops his head, which confirms your suspicions. “Okay, fine. Here’s the deal...”

Jeongin’s pleasantly surprised when you approach him at Minho’s birthday party. You’re one of his good friends but it’s rare that the two of you ever spend time alone together. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just gets so nervous around you. He can barely get a word out when you’re in the room, which is why when he sees you making your way across the room he prays for strength and holds his breath.

“Hey,” you say casually, sliding into the seat next to him, and Jeongin feels his heart rate pick up almost immediately. “Bored already?”

Jeongin chuckles. “What gave it away?”

“Well, you’re sitting over here all by yourself. It wasn’t very hard to guess.”

“Yeah, I guess I should mingle more,” he sighs and puts his hands on his knees to push himself up.

“Wait, but not now! I just got here.”

Jeongin’s half-relieved he doesn’t have to move from his spot, half-panicked because now he’s forced to have this one on one conversation with you. He started sweating the minute you walked in the door how the fuck was he supposed to get through this in one piece.

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Did you get Minho a birthday present?” you ask, thankfully skirting right past Jeongin trying to ditch you.

He nods. “I did.”

“What’d you get him?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You didn’t get him anything, did you?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was in the mail?”

“No.”

“I forgot,” Jeongin admits sheepishly. “I always get the guys birthday gifts after the fact. I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“You can just add your name to mine, if you want,” you offer. “People group us together all the time anyway.”

“Wha- they do?”

“Yeah, you know like whenever I show up at the dorms the boys are always like ‘Jeongin’s in his room’, ‘Jeongin will be right out’. ‘Jeongin isn’t here right now, I thought he’d be with you’. Do they not say that stuff to you?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Probably because they all know about his giant fucking crush on you.

“Oh.”

You sound disappointed. Fuck. How does he always manage to put his foot in his mouth?

“I mean, because they just tease me right in front of you anyway.”

“They just like giving you a hard time,” you reason.

“So you’re on their side now?”

You crook an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there were sides.”

“There are.”

“Then I’m on your side, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cause you’re friends with all of us, not just me.”

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite.”

Jeongin isn’t sure if he totally believes you but he’s elated regardless. He beams at you.

“You’re my favorite too.”

He doesn’t know why, but after Minho’s birthday party, things between him and you feel different. The next time he sees you is on that Saturday, the fifth. You come over for game night like you do every weekend, and you take your spot next to Jeongin as usual. Everything seems normal. But it isn’t. Jeongin can feel it in the stiffness of your posture, in the nervous tapping of your foot against the hardwood floor.

The night progresses as smoothly as any other game night, with Jeongin losing every single one, but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

You’re not mad at him, he knows that. You still laugh at his dumb jokes, you still let him cheat off of you, both good signs.

When Felix calls for a break, Jeongin takes the opportunity to lean over and check in.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You jump in your seat a little like you hadn’t been expecting him to address you, which was fair because he was usually too much of a coward to, and turn to face him. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yup. Just fine.”

“Not good?”

“Neither good, nor bad,” you say with a shrug.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

You open your mouth to answer but Felix’s voice from the kitchen cuts you off as he calls out to suggest that the group of you watch a movie instead of finishing the game of Uno you were currently playing.

“You never want to watch movies,” Hyunjin says, scrunching his face in confusion.

“Yeah, you’re only suggesting that because you’re losing!” Seungmin adds.

Felix comes into the room, hands on his hips, and lips pursed. “Do you want to watch How to Train Your Dragon or not?”

Seven and a half minutes later, you’re all on the couch watching Hiccup struggle with his daddy issues. Jeongin didn’t have much say in the matter but you had seemed eager to watch the movie so obviously he was… also eager. To watch the movie.

A lot of the guys’ girlfriends were over so you asked Jeongin to share a blanket with you, seeing as there were only so many to go around.

He agrees, of course, even though he isn’t cold. If anything, he’s overly warm. He hopes you can’t feel the heat radiating from his body.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with you so close, not that he was really interested in it in the first place, but then you snuggle close to Jeongin and rest your head on his shoulder and his brain short circuits. You must feel his body tense because you sit back up immediately after, frowning.

“No, you can lay back down,” Jeongin insists, going as far as craning his neck in the opposite direction to give you more room.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you mumble.

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” he asks.

“Because you’re being all weird.”

“I’m not-”

“Hey, you two,” Jisung hisses from the other couch, “could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to watch the movie.”

Jeongin apologizes and you shift away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s really done it now. He tries to remedy the situation by scooting closer but you don’t even look at him.

From across the room, Jeongin makes eye contact with Minho, who gives him a look as if to say what the fuck are you doing?

Minho’s been trying to get Jeongin to make a move on you for months now, claiming to be tired of listening to him pine over you from afar, but Jeongin knows his friend really just wants him to be happy, put himself out there and all that. Minho’s been especially insistent ever since the eight of them made that stupid bet. He’s somehow under the impression that if Jeongin tells you how he feels it’ll eliminate him as competition. But for that to happen, you would have to like him back.

He doubts he’ll win No Nut November anyway, girlfriend or not. Hell, half the reason he acts so strange around you is because he’s using up all of his energy trying not to get hard. All you have to do is smile at him and his dick will twitch in his pants. In fact, he knows tonight after you go home he’ll just lay in bed, hard and aching with thoughts of you as he wills his cock to soften on its own.

But at least he wouldn’t be the first loser. Jisung made sure of that by losing on the second day of the month. Everyone saw it coming.

Jeongin’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of you yawning.

“Are you tired?” he asks softly, not wanting to get scolded by his members for talking again.

“A little.”

“Do you want to lay down in my room? You could stay the night if you want, I know it’s getting late.”

“That’d be great, Innie, thanks.” You smile sleepily at him and reach for his hand. “Will you come with me? I don’t want to go by myself, I’d feel weird.”

Jeongin nods, brain going on autopilot as he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. No one questions where the two of you are going, either too engrossed in the movie to notice, or too uninterested to care.

You flop down on his bed as soon as the door’s shut behind you. Jeongin chuckles.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“I will,” you hum.

Despite the fact that the two of you don’t spend much time together, it isn’t uncommon for you to end up in Jeongin’s bed. He offers it to you whenever you decide to stay over because he doesn’t want you driving yourself home if you’re tired or if you’ve been drinking. He always takes the couch even though you’ve pointed out that his bed is big enough for the both of you. He doesn’t trust himself not to embarrass himself if he were to entertain the idea.

“I know you wore jeans tonight so you can borrow something of mine to sleep in if you want.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can just sleep in my underwear,” you say as you start to unzip your pants. “Unless that bothers you?”

Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sight and he spins on his heel to face the wall and give you privacy.

“N-no, that’s fine,” he squeaks out.

“You don’t have to turn away, Jeongin. It’s not like I’m a stranger.”

He ignores you and only turns back around once he hears you slide underneath the covers, knowing that he’d instantly get hard if he did any sooner.

“I know, I just... uh, let me know if you need anything else,” he says and heads for the door.

“Wait,” you call after him. “Won’t you stay with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he says slowly.

You huff in frustration and throw back the covers. “I-I don’t understand. I should have never listened to Minho-”

“Minho? What’s Minho got to do with this?”

You look guilty all of the sudden, and Jeongin’s drops as his brian conjures up every possible scenario that involves you and Minho talking about him. None of them are good.

“Y/n?” he prompts again.

“He told me that he knew I had feelings for you and that you had feelings for me too, and then he told me about that idiotic bet you all made and tried to get me in on it, I guess to seduce you or something? But obviously he doesn’t know what he’s talking about because you don’t even like me!”

It’s entirely too much information for Jeongin’s brain to process at once. All he can focus on is that you have feelings for him???

“You have feelings for me?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Did you listen to anything else I just said?” you huff.

“Not really.”

“Yes, I’ve had a big fat crush on you for forever now, thanks for noticing.”

“Really?”

“Really. Are you going to make me say it again?”

“I kind of want to,” Jeongin admits, finally feeling brave enough to approach you on his bed.

“That’s mean.”

“Why? I have a crush on you too, silly.”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“Minho wasn’t messing with you. He was right.”

“You like me?”

“How could I not?”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you scoff.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you and pouts. “You just make me nervous, okay? I can’t function around a pretty girl.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods and takes your hand. “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure who makes the next move, probably you, but then you’re kissing. Your arms are wrapped around Jeongin’s neck, pulling him down close to you as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Clumsily, he climbs onto the bed with you and slots himself in between your legs, moaning into your mouth a little when his hand brushes against your bare thigh.

You already sound breathy and desperate for him and it spurs him on further, hips grinding into you instinctively. He’s practically fully hard in his sweats, there’s no way you can’t feel it, but you don’t seem to mind. If anything, it turns you on even more.

You’re the first to break away, though, pushing on Jeongin’s chest to put more distance between you. “Wait, wait, the bet! Don’t you want to win?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Fuck the bet.”

Jeongin kisses you again, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt and up to your tits. He traces your curves, outlining each one, before moving down to your underwear. It seems that you have a similar train of thought because you reach for the waistband of his pants at the same time, but he stops you with a sheepish grin.

“This is really embarrassing, but I haven’t jerked off in like a week so I won’t last long.”

You smile against his lips. “It’s okay, Innie. We can just go again if you cum too fast. We have all the time in the world now.”

The assurance is all he needs to relax. You begin to palm him over his sweats and it becomes very apparent to Jeongin that he’s going to cum way faster than he wants to. He whines, actually whines, and bucks his hips into your hand.

“Shhh, the others are still outside,” you remind him.

“S-sorry.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss as he fumbles for the waistband of your panties, wanting to make you feel good too. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric, lower and lower until you’re moaning and arching your back off the bed.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you whisper.

Jeongin keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles, while he works the rest of his hand into your underwear. He figures that if he can’t make you cum on his cock, his fingers will have to do. He’s been told that he has nice hands on more than one occasion, and he’s gotten good reviews from partners in the past, so it’s kind of like a failsafe for him.

“Shit, you’re wet,” Jeongin breathes.

“Do you believe I like you now?”

For some reason, that’s what does it for him. He shudders and falls forward into you as he cums in his pants.

“Oh god, sorry, sorry,” he groans.

There’s so much of it too, it seeps through the material of his sweatpants and onto your hand and he’s mortified.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you soothe, rubbing his back as he comes down. “You told me it was going to happen, I expected it.”

“But still.”

“It really isn’t a big deal, Innie. If anything, I think it’s hot that I have that effect on you. And you can go again right?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes! Yeah, just give me like, ten minutes.”

You laugh and pet his hair. “Well in that case, I can think of a lot of things we can do in ten minutes, can’t you?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka

#no nut november skz #nnn skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #i.n smut #i.n x reader #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #flashing tw

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fairyhaos · 1 year ago

Text

how seventeen react to their s/o doubting themselves in their relationship

requested by anon: So this is a very specific request and you don't have to do it if you're uncomfortable or do not like it/are uninspired by it. But how would they handle it if you're in a relationship with them but start doubting whether you're good enough for them? It's a bit sad but I'm curious. Thank you <3

notes: the super soft fluff and the super sad angst are Both my strong points. i love them both so much.

masterlist

seungcheol, jeonghan, hansol

he's noticed the way you've been hesitating around him lately, no longer throwing yourself on top of him for hugs and no longer responding as well to him nudging your heads together to ask for kisses. he's worried, and he's incredibly adamant that Communication is Key in relationships (and he's right) so he asks you during a lull in the evening one day why you're being so distant. it takes a while, but he's patient and he just wants to know you're okay, and eventually when you break and tell him everything he gets really sad and starts hugging you as you cry. begins to cry himself, bc he didn't realise you were thinking that way, and tells you over and over that he loves you and he's with you because you make him the happiest ever and there's no need to worry about something like that. he's going to be with you forever and ever, whether you like it or not.

joshua, junhui, dokyeom

incredibly perceptive when it comes to these things. knew that you were upset and he's been constantly asking you if you're okay, but you just continue to brush it off until he walks into your room one day to find you silently sobbing to yourself in the middle of the room. immediately drops to his knees on the floor beside you, making those gentle shushing noises to try and calm you down, and when you push him away he makes that small wounded noise, worried that he's done something wrong. he's gentle with you, like you're a fragile creature, when you tell him that you've been worried that he's too good for you. tells you very sincerely that he doesn't think anyone will be able to put up with him as well as you have and that honestly, he's not sure if he'd like anyone else to. for him, there's only you. asks if he can touch you, scoops you up into a big and warm hug that lasts until one of you needs to pee (him)

wonwoo, jihoon, minghao

the conversation was probably brought up through an almost-argument. you're tired and insecure, which makes you snappish, and he's tired too, leading to biting exchanges that gradually get worse until you finally grit out that you're afraid he's going to leave you because there are better people out there. that makes the anger leave his body instantly, eyes widening. he didn't know you felt like that in the slightest, and he slowly tries to go over and touch you, stepping back if you move away. he feels like it's partly his fault for maybe not being as affectionate in the relationship as you'd like, and promises to do better and make you feel more reassured in the relationship if that's what you need. even if you say it's okay, he'll promise it anyway, because he knows how awkwardness can make him distant sometimes, and he never wants you to think he's going to stop loving you someday

hoshi, mingyu, seungkwan, chan

i think he'll start overthinking your distant nature, taking it as a sign that you don't think he's good enough for you, and comes to you all wobbly-voiced to very genuinely ask if you're tired of him, because he knows that he's not the easiest person to handle at times and if there's something about him that's bothering you, he'll try to fix it for you. it takes you by surprise, because you were afraid that he was tired of you, and yet he's come to you and said this. you end up embarrassedly telling him the reason for your distance, and both of you are crying and laughing because it's a little ridiculous and you're both just in love with each other so much that it has managed to lead to complications like this. you end up pinky-promising each other that neither is undeserving of the other, and exchange sappy 'i love you's for about an hour straight

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Note

Look at that stare!

Time to Study

Summary: Bucky told you he needed help with his studies, but you should have known he just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: K-I-S-S-I-N-G, college AU, nicknames, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Okay, lovelies. Meet Titan and Starshine in the college AU no one asked for, Falling For You. Thank you @rookthorne, @sgt-seabass, and @chasingmarvel!❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

"Bucky, I think you've been on that page for the last five minutes."

He shrugged and continued to stare, his blue eyes focused completely on you. A smile began to spread across your face before you cleared your throat and glanced at your book. Your face heated up when you still felt his gaze on you. With the looks of a model and a smile that could make panties drop, it was almost overwhelming to have his attention.

But you liked it.

“Why didn’t we meet in the library?” you asked, suddenly aware of how hot it was in your room.

Or was it him?

You were also aware of how close he was to you on your bed. You could’ve chosen to sit in a chair or on the floor, but you made the decision to take your bed. He followed suit and kept a reasonable distance. But he moved closer with each passing second until his knee almost bumped yours.

No way in hell were you going to stop him.

“It’s more comfortable here,” he replied. You tried not to lose yourself in his eyes when you dared to look at him. “Don’t you think?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you nodded. You even managed not to whimper when he placed his hand on your thigh. With his sleeve pushed up, you could see the veins in his forearm, a visual reminder of his strength. He didn’t slide his hand up any higher or apply any pressure. It rested there, like he was testing the waters.

Come on in. The water’s fine.

"It is, but I thought you said you needed my help," you reminded him when he made no move to read or look over his notes.

Some assumed that because Bucky was good looking, athletic, and a member of the most popular fraternity on campus that he got people to do his work for him. That couldn't have been further from the truth. He was a nice, smart guy, much smarter than most expected. And while he didn't brag about his grades, he more than earned his high GPA through his intelligence and hard work.

The whole package. Wait, why does he need my help again?

"Stop staring!" you said, trying your hardest not to smile when he lightly chuckled. It was such a sexy sound. "We need to study."

"Oh. I actually finished studying before I stopped by. You know I’m getting an A in that class," he smirked, shutting the book and moving it beside him. "Or did I forget to mention that?"

It was your turn to stare at him, your mouth open when he flashed his winning smile.

Smug. Bastard.

"You lied to me, Bucky Barnes."

He pouted before he smiled again. "I didn't lie. I would never lie to you.”

His hand went to the back of your neck as you tried to remember to breathe. "Yes, you did,” you huffed, not wanting to let him off the hook. Even if he distracted you the more he leaned in, his fingertips tickling your skin. “You said you needed my help. I cleared my whole afternoon."

Like he had to twist my arm to make that happen.

"I do need your help. I need a kiss and you’re the only one who can help me with that,” he argued, his nose bumping yours. “And if you want me to maintain my high GPA, I'll need to study every single one of your kisses thoroughly. Even if it takes all night."

That would’ve been cheesy from anyone else, but he made it sound so genuine.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, running your fingers through his soft hair. His words flustered you and you wondered if he noticed. "What would your brothers say if they heard you?"

Ridiculous and charming and handsome and he smells good and his lips are so close to mine.

“Being ridiculous doesn’t change the fact that I need a kiss,” he said, breathing against your lips. "And no mention of my brothers when you're in my arms. Only me."

Only you, Bucky.

“After I’m done studying,” you whispered with a twinkle in your eyes.

He growled when you giggled again, but didn’t give you the chance to move away. One day you'd get out of one of his holds, but today wasn't it. “Just one little kiss, Starshine? Any kind of kiss you want as long as I get one.”

You sucked in a breath when he licked his lips, his tongue close enough that it brushed against your mouth. It would’ve been easy to close the last bit of distance and put you both out of your misery. Still playing the part of a gentleman, the hand on your thigh didn’t move. But his grip tightened a fraction.

Enough to let you know how badly he needed you.

As much as Bucky wanted to, he didn’t kiss you the night the two of you spoke for the first time. He was a gentleman and didn’t rush it, even after you stayed up all night chatting. Now you look forward to each and every kiss.

He could have any girl on campus and he’s desperate for me.

“One,” you agreed, capturing his mouth in a gentle kiss.

Bucky returned it with fervor and you were helpless to do anything but get swept away. His lips molded against yours perfectly and you practically crawled into his lap as he deepened the kiss, studying long forgotten at that point. It was a feat you lasted as long as you did without throwing yourself at him.

This is definitely going to be more than one kiss if we don't stop.

“Back to studying?” you asked breathlessly.

“Only if I get to kiss you again when we’re done,” he smiled.

“Are my kisses that great, Titan?” you asked, running a finger along his sharp jawline.

Maybe you weren't playing fair by using his nickname, which he loved hearing from you, but he started it by suggesting a fake study session just to get a kiss from you and using your nickname first.

Instead of a smug smirk when Bucky pulled back, his cheeks flushed slightly as he regarded you with an easy smile. “If you knew what it was like to kiss you, you’d never wanna stop,” he answered, making your heart thud in your chest as he pulled you closer by the hips.

A knock on the door broke you temporarily from your spell, but you stayed close in Bucky’s lap.

“Hey!” your roommate said through the door. “Are you two decent? I need to grab something real quick.”

Great timing.

“Unfortunately, we are,” you teased, pressing your forehead against Bucky’s as she put her key in the door. "Now we have to study."

“Don't mind me! Not looking!” your roommate announced, rummaging through her closet until she found what she needed. “Use protection! Don’t need you knocking her up!”

Bucky laughed when you groaned, both of you used to her antics. “How about we study in my room next time?” he offered.

“Deal," you agreed, sneaking in one more quick kiss.

Although you had a feeling you wouldn’t get much studying done at his place either, you didn't mind one bit.

Another couple for me to adore. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #college!bucky barnes #college!bucky barnes reader #falling for you au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #college au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #titan and starshine

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idyllic-ghost · 1 year ago

Text

Title: The Royal Gambit

Pairing: prince!Joshua x princess!reader

Warnings: smut, head (f and m receiving), exhibitionism, corruption kink, degradation, praise, impreg kink, p in v action, general filthiness. angst, arguments

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, royalty au, romance

Synopsis: Marriage should be a beautiful union between two lovers, but you did not love Prince Hong and he clearly did not love you. Everything you did, you did for your kingdoms - except when you started meeting him in quiet corners of the castle to take out your frustrations on each other. However, would this relationship be enough to hold together a marriage which your countries depended on?

Rating: 18+

A/N: idk why but all of my royalty au's turn out being super long! i really loved writing this, so i hope it'll be appreciated. also!!! i would be lying if i said i wasn't very influenced and inspired by @heartkyeom 's "be sweet", so please go read that and give it some love (it's an amazingly good hoshi fic!!!!) and thank you to @strawberryya for reading through my drafts and making sure everything made sense!

Word count: 17.7k

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled forward on the slippery floor. Heat spread across your cheeks as you stared down at the black-and-white checkered ground. Everyone’s eyes were on you, and it was most certainly not because of your beautiful dress. You weren’t sure how you ended up tripping, but you had managed to fall over thin air onto the dance floor. You kept your gaze down, not wanting to look at anyone else, and unsure of what to do you decided to stand frozen. Behind you was a wall of people, towering over you like some sort of evil entity. You surely couldn’t push yourself through them to hide - that’d be even more embarrassing. In front of you was a large open floor, couples standing evenly spread out and moving across the black-and-white marble floor like perfect chess pieces. They knew exactly where to go, and exactly what to do. You weren’t good at dancing and, more importantly, you didn’t have a partner. Tears started burning in your eyes, to think that the first ball you go to in this new place would go so horribly. Your nails dug into the palms of your hand through the thin fabric of your gloves. Not a second later, someone grabbed your arm and led you further out on the dance floor.

“There you are. Sorry, I’m late.” The man spoke loud enough for others to hear and led you toward the center of the floor.

You stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of how to act. He was gorgeous; a warm smile, with equally warm brown eyes, and broad shoulders - where one of your hands now laid upon.

“Act natural, okay?” he whispered.

One of his hands was on your waist, high enough to be tasteful, and his other hand held yours. The music reached your ears, as you were finally calm enough to register it. A waltz. Surely you knew how to waltz. Still, you found yourself praying that your legs wouldn’t betray you. Your knees were already shaky, and your feet were tired from standing all evening. The dark-haired stranger moved you across the floor, while you were looking at your feet and counting your steps. His hand moved to your chin and angled your face toward him.

“Look at me,” he said and repeated, “Make it seem natural.”

His hand returned to your waist. Without him holding your shin in place, it was hard to not let it drop again. Staring into his eyes felt like torture - a wave of overwhelming emotions hit you, the biggest one being embarrassment but confusion was a close second.

“Why are you helping me?” you whispered.

“I can’t simply leave a lady in distress to her own defenses.” He flashed a smile.

You didn’t like the way he talked about you, but you couldn’t complain when he had just helped you escape from utter embarrassment. Besides, a handsome man sweet-talking you was an ideal way to spend your night. It wasn’t as if you were going to spend more time with him after this.

“Well, thank you,” you murmured.

The two of you kept conversing in this modest manner; about the art on the walls, and the sound of the music. Futile things. Small talk. You never even learned his name, but it didn’t matter to you. When you said goodbye, he bowed down to you before escaping into the crowd. You were sure you were never going to see him again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You found yourself in the neighboring kingdom Ceadrotia to be sold off. At least, that’s how you saw it. The lands here were prosperous, the soil was perfect, and their harvest was always impressive. However, they lacked in their economic department. You can only win so much from a good harvest, especially when your financial system is practically nonexistent. That’s why you found yourself within Ceadrotia’s palace walls. You were the Princess of the Xaevia kingdom, sworn off to the Prince of the neighboring lands. It was a decision made to get more allies and to support Ceadrotia in their time of need. Your kingdom would give them economic growth and stability. In return, you would get better harvests and the safety of one of the biggest armies on the continent. Nothing could you do to stop this arrangement, and neither could the Prince. His Majesty Prince Hong was known to be a gentleman, but would often play this act in order to win something for himself. He was an altruistic man with egotistical goals. It wasn’t necessarily women that he wanted, for he always treated them with respect, but you had heard tales of the many mistakes no ordinary man could get out of. He was sly, and proud of it too.

After the ball last night, a supposed welcoming ball in your kingdom’s honor, you had made your mind up about him. For Prince Hong had never shown up. He hadn’t greeted you like he was supposed to, which gave you no chance to meet the man before the engagement was to be finalized. Now you’re sitting in the drawing room with the Prince’s mother, discussing meaningless matters over tea, while waiting for your father to finish talking with King Hong. So when your father entered the room with a much younger man behind his trail, you were surprised. If this were to be the King, then how young was the Prince?

“Ah, good! You’re already settled,” your father exclaimed, “Y/N, dearest, I’d like you to meet Prince Hong.”

The young man stepped into the light, and you saw that it was the man from the night before. He looked just as sharp as last night, although now his hair was hanging in front of his face instead of being slicked back. He recognized you, you could see it in his eyes, but he said nothing.

“I thought you were doing business with the King,” you said, without greeting or so much as looking at the Prince.

“Y/N-”

“My father can’t exactly sign any binding documents when he is lying on his deathbed, can he?” the Prince snapped back in a calm manner.

He was ice cold, but he kept up a professional mask.

“Joshua, honey, she couldn’t possibly know,” the Queen said before giving you an apologetic look.

“I apologize if I may have caused any offense,” you said in an irritated tone, “But your Highness must understand that I take the matter of my own marriage quite seriously, and I want it to be handled correctly.”

Prince Hong looked at you with disdain, unlike the way he had looked at you last night during the ball. However, you didn’t move your gaze from his no matter the glimmer of hate in his eyes. He clearly didn’t wish for this marriage either.

“There will be an official engagement in front of the public,” your father interrupted, “It will be held in a week, meaning that you’ll spend this time working on your… attitudes towards each other.”

“And I’ll get you a chambermaid, Princess, as we have discussed,” your future mother-in-law added.

In all of this chaos, it was nice to know that at least your mother-in-law would be pleasant company. The honeymoon days would certainly be a pain since you wouldn’t be able to have her, or anyone else to talk to, around. You thanked her with a warm smile, but it fell as soon as Prince Hong started talking again.

“We will make arrangements for you to get a new dress for the official engagement,” he said nonchalantly, “And I’ll need your finger measurements for the jeweler.”

“For a man who can’t even show up to greet your future wife properly, you sure do make a lot of demands.” You stand up. “I shall take a tour of the palace. I assume you’re too busy to make time for me, so I’ll take a maid.”

Prince Hong was visually taken aback by your blunt nature. He was clearly not prepared for this sort of conversation. Perhaps he was too used to everyone agreeing with him. You were certainly not going to be one of those people - you were set on hating Prince Hong.

Nevertheless, Prince Hong showed you around the castle despite your assumptions about him. Never-ending hallways, with tall ceilings, and the most sublime architecture. You could stare at it for hours if it wasn’t for Prince Hong who insisted on hastily making his way through each room. When he reached the library you had to practically beg him to stop. Large wooden shelves reached all the way up the walls.

“How do you ever leave this room?” you asked.

“When you have other duties it’s easy to forget these things.” He kept on walking, although a little slower than before.

You walk past a set-up chessboard, which seems to be doing nothing but gathering dust. Ignoring his comment and his seeming need to get out of the library, you stopped and sat down.

“Do you play, Your Highness?”

The maid who was chaperoning the two of you hid her giggle behind her hand. Joshua looked at you, somewhat amused but still clearly annoyed. Prince Hong sat down in front of you.

“I was taught the art of a good chess match at a very young age,” he bragged, “I had a chess master for a teacher, and my classes only ended once I could manage to win against him.”

“You talk big, Your Highness-”

“Would you stop it with the formalities?”

“Just play, Prince Hong.” You move your first piece. “Knight to F3. Your turn.”

The prince moves his knight to F6, mirroring your movements. You end up taking out his queen far too early on, with your bishop out of all pieces. He was clearly rusty, and you found it hard to not chuckle at him. When you finally got his king into a corner, you couldn’t hold back your victorious laugh at his disappointed expression.

“Seems you’re rusty, Your Highness,” you teased.

He stood up and smoothed out his suit, then held out his hand to you. Even though the gesture was kind, the bitter look on his face said otherwise. However, you stood up and shook his hand.

“We’ll have to schedule a rematch.” He cleared his throat.

“We shall.” You smiled. “I’d like to see the garden now.”

You took the lead and started walking out of the library, your hands locked behind you and your chin lifted high with pride.

Toward the end of the day, when the sun was closing in on the horizon, dinner was served in the grand dining hall. After the chess game, you hadn’t spoken much to Joshua at all. You had followed him around and ogled at the architecture of the palace, but he hadn’t spoken another word to you. Dinner was no different. Joshua barely acknowledged you, which you were pleased with. If he was half the man he was during the other evening, you wouldn’t mind marrying him. However, his attitude towards this arrangement was clear - and it was not a positive one.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It hadn’t fully settled in that you would be marrying this man - this stranger. That realization came later during the night. While it had been fun to put this man in his place, it was not something you wished to do for the rest of your life. Together with a man who had no feelings for you whatsoever, and who you didn’t care for at all either. Your bed was large and cold. Lonely. You were beginning to feel homesick and you felt so incredibly small in this huge room. Tears began flooding in your eyes as you thought back to your childhood room, the one that you shared with your siblings. It was always filled with warmth and quiet giggles, as well as hushed, silly arguments. You used to be annoyed with your family at times, but now there were no other people that you wanted by your side. The first night of your stay in your future home, you cried yourself to sleep.

That night you dreamt of walking along a corridor in the castle, slowly being chased by people you knew - your family, servants, and, worst of all, Prince Hong. The marble floors seemed to move under you because you could never get to the door at the end of the hall. Behind you, the people pursuing you were shouting. They were shouting at you to come back, to stop - any commands they could think of, really. You could hear Prince Hong mocking you, and it was tempting to turn back to slap him. However, you couldn’t - you had to get to that door. In hindsight, it wasn’t a truly terrifying dream - but it had you waking up in a sweat. You rang the bell by your bed and asked for a cold bath, anything to wake you up.

Your bathroom, which was connected to your room with only a door between, was decorated with gold from the ceiling down to the floor. There was no time for you to appreciate it the night before, but now you were gawking at all of the details. A maid helped you undress and held a towel for you while you stepped into your bath. It was cold, as you had ordered, but you didn’t realize how cold that would be. You almost bit your tongue from just dipping your toe into it, but you still sat down. With a shaky breath in, you dipped your head under the water. You sat there for a few seconds and breathed out bubbles in the water. As soon as your head appeared again, the maid held up the towel for you. You stepped out of the tub and let her wrap you up in the fluffy towel. After thanking her, she left you to your own devices - saying something about breakfast almost being ready, and that she’d get you a proper dress for it. You walked over to the vanity mirror and sat down in front of it. There were a number of delicate boxes on the table for you to use, none of which you were very familiar with. You picked up a lotion and turned it around in your hand.

“Interesting,” you hummed as you opened the lid.

The lotion was velvety to the touch, rich in feeling but had no smell. It was important to not wear anything too fragrant, as your mother had told you before you went on this journey. If a woman were to wear too much perfume, she’d be classified as a harlot. You were unsure of why it was so bad to be a prostitute, as whenever you brought up the subject you’d be rejected immediately. You had the answer to pretty much anything you wanted, but anything sensual in nature was dismissed. It was for your future husband to teach you. Your thoughts were brought back to the task at hand, as you smeared the lotion across your face. Not too much, never too much, as your mother had also taught you. Once the lotion was applied you picked up a hairbrush. You would wait for your maid to help you put it up, but you could brush it yourself. The door opened.

“I have a dress for you, your highness,” your maid said.

“Thank you. I shall put it on now,” you said while looking at her through the mirror. “Would you help me with my hair?”

The maid helped you get ready for your breakfast. You were nervous. It was common for the Queen to eat breakfast in bed, as any married woman would, and neither your father nor the King of Ceadrotia would be present. All of this meant that you’d be alone with the Prince. If he showed up at all.

“May I put rouge on your cheeks, Miss?” your maid asked.

“Rouge?”

“It’s a mixture of strawberries and herbs, used on the cheeks for an innocent glow,” she explained. “I’m sure that the Prince would adore it.”

You scoffed, but let her proceed with putting the product on the apples of your cheeks. You felt slightly ridiculous. Before this, you hadn’t been out in society yet. This meant that you never had to worry about these treatments, and now they were all being thrown at you at once.

“I put some perfume on the sleeves of your dress as well, Miss,” the maid said when she finished your hair, “Violets, it’s a favorite amongst the women of the court.”

You only hummed. Preparing yourself for this might take more than you expected.

You walked down the hall, your heels clicking against the hard floors. Your maid followed closely behind, showing you which way to go. When the doors to the dining room opened, you were met with lonely chairs. This was worse than having the Prince here, you thought as you sat down.

“Has no one called upon the Prince?” your maid hissed at one of the servants behind you.

“He wasn’t in bed this morning,” he responded in a hushed tone.

“Leave him be,” you said loudly, “I’m sure he had better things to do than to have breakfast with his future wife.”

As you ate alone, you thought about your future here. You looked around at the decorating. Would you be in charge of such things? Despite how much your mother had explained to you, you were unsure of certain details of your role as the Prince’s wife and Lady of the castle. Someone prepared a plate for you. Was this hospitality or was it the way things worked in Ceadrotia? Would you never have a say in any decisions? You thought back to your father, who would always ask his eldest daughter for advice on his decisions - until it came to your hand in marriage. He hadn’t been able to look you in the eye, and his expression exuded shame. But it had to be done. An alliance through marriage is an alliance that’ll last forever. You stabbed the cut-up fruit with your small two-pronged fork. The memory of your father giving you the news of your arranged marriage, as if there was nothing you could do to stop it, filled you with a fit of familiar anger. Breakfast that morning was finished in haste, and you left as fast as you could.

You wandered around the castle, the passing staff watching you closely. You were trying to find the library again but had managed to get lost. There was not a world where you would think to ask for help. So you wandered, pretending you knew exactly where you were going. As you approached a pair of doors, two servants immediately opened them for you. It was a room that you had yet seen. Prince Hong had seemingly forgotten. Inside this room, light-flooded freely. The windows were large, and the curtains were open. The walls were filled with paintings, and across the floor, there were statues of the finest marble. Exquisite forms, perfectly posed in front of you. Naked bodies are exposed for you to gaze upon. You wonder if this is what Prince Hong looked like underneath his robes, although you quickly shook this thought away. As you wandered around the room you came upon a door, which a servant stopped you from opening.

“This is the Prince’s office,” he said.

“... is he in there now?” you asked.

“He is, but-”

“Let me in.”

The servant reluctantly opened the door for you, and you stepped inside. Prince Hong yelled something about being occupied. You fidgeted with your gloves, but kept walking into the room.

“I said-” Prince Hong stopped speaking when he saw you. “You.”

“Me,” you said.

“Why are you here? I’ve told everyone to keep you out of this room.” The Prince spoke as if you could not hear him, as if he had no care for what you thought of him.

“Do you really despise me that much?”

“No-,” he blubbered, “I don’t-... this is my sanctuary. I’m alone here.”

“You don’t despise me?”

“Why should I? You have given me no reason to.” He stood up from his chair and walked over to you. “I just don’t want to marry you.”

“And yet you signed the papers,” you huffed.

He was close to you now. It had been fine when he had sat behind his mahogany desk, but when he towered over you it made you feel nervous.

“I signed the papers, not because I am madly in love with you,” he said sternly, “But because my kingdom is in need. My father is ill, I must bring hope back to my people somehow. An alliance with the Xaevia kingdom is what they need, and it is what I will give them.”

You stared at the necklace, the Ceadrotian emblem lying against his chest. A raven with an arrow in its claws. The Prince cleared his throat, and you looked back up to his eyes. He was smiling, proud of making you tremble.

“I want some ground rules,” you said suddenly.

“Rules?”

“Yes, rules.” You took a deep breath. “I want you to have breakfast with me in the mornings.”

“Can’t do,” he said, “I go on my morning rides when you have breakfast.”

“You will have breakfast with me, and we’ll socialize together. If I’m going to marry, then we’ll have to be on speaking terms,” you explained, “I am not asking you to love me, or even like me, but you should at least speak with me.”

“I’ll speak with you.” He said, but when he saw your face he quickly added, “And have breakfast with you.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

He smiled again, and you swore you could hear a faint chuckle.

“Why are you so different?” you asked quietly.

“Different from what?”

“From when we danced,” you said, “You were so… kind.”

“Because you needed it,” he said.

You were taken aback by his words. Needed him? You scoffed in his face and turned your back to him, walking towards the door.

“Get this through your head,” you said as you stopped by his door, “I don’t need you. You need me, your kingdom needs me.”

Prince Hong said nothing as you slammed the door behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The days went on. You and the Prince spoke on civil terms, but never alone. Someone was always there, which kept the hatred at bay. You learned that the Prince enjoyed art, as well as a good sport and that he tended to keep to himself in his office or in his chambers. His mother seemed delighted that you had brought him out of his shell a bit more. Apparently, the Prince only went out if there was a party he could attend. Your welcoming ball must have not been good enough for him to make an official appearance. Despite your complaints about the Prince, he was starting to grow on you. It was refreshing to talk to him, especially when you got to win your small arguments. Breakfast had turned into frequent debates.

“Why shouldn’t I call you that? It’s your title!” you exclaimed.

The two of you had begun talking over breakfast when he suddenly got tired of being called by his title. You saw an opportunity to tease him and you took it.

“I don’t think it's suitable that you call me Prince when we’re going to get married,” he said.

“Ah, but we’re not married yet.” You grinned, “So, therefore, I should continue calling you Prince Hong.”

“What would it take for you to just call me Joshua?” The Prince sighed.

You picked around your plate with your fork, humming to yourself as you thought. Prince Hong was staring at you intently, his gaze practically burning through you.

“A miracle,” you proposed, looking back down at your plate.

“Then that’s going to have to be another rule,” he said.

“Oh, no, no, no…” You shook your head. “That only benefits you. The rules have to be for the both of us.”

Ever since your first rule, the two of you had started making more. There was your rule of socializing. Then, he decided to make a rule that you had to go with him to look over the horses. You agreed to this, it fits with your socialization rule. This back and forth went on, but you only agreed to rules that would do something for the both of you.

“In the end, it would benefit you too, no?” he asked. “Being seen calling me by my name would fall in line with your social thing.”

“Well… sure,” you said, “But you’re doing this to tease me with it later.”

Prince Hong rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. You enjoyed this kind of banter, it made you forget about all of the rude comments he’d throw your way. It made it all seem okay, even though you were about to marry a man who you didn’t care for one bit.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your nightmares had continued, each night was the same. You woke up in a cold sweat and had to take a bath in the morning. However, you learned from your mistakes. Now, you asked them to make your water lukewarm instead of ice cold. Your stress was never-ending, and the closer you got to this engagement to be official the more your stress grew. This wasn’t what you wanted, but what could you do?

A few days before the engagement was to be announced, you woke up once again. This time, it was still dark outside. You didn’t want to call for a maid, it seemed rude to wake them from their sleep yet another night. Instead, you decided to take a walk in the garden for some fresh air. You got out of bed and put on a pair of shoes. Your nightgown was made of thin material, and you decided to wrap yourself up in a scarf before you sneaked out.

The air was thick tonight, warm and humid. It was probably going to rain soon, but you’d just be a minute. You looked past each corner before walking through the halls. It wasn’t difficult to sneak around the shadows of the castle late at night. There were a few guards around, but it just meant that you had to take a longer route. Somehow, you made it out to the garden. Feeling the fresh air against your skin, not just from an open window, was relieving. Maybe you should’ve done this earlier, maybe it can cure your nightmares. It certainly felt like it could. You took off your shoes and put your feet in the grass. It tickled, but it made you feel grounded. You went over to the fountain and shook off your scarf to sit on it. Feeling the cool water grace your fingertips made you smile. This was exactly what you needed. Which is why you weren’t upset when it started raining. You welcomed it with open arms and laughed out loud for the first time in days when the thunder sounded over the skies.

“What are you doing out here?” Prince Hong’s voice echoed out over the garden.

He didn’t startle you. In fact, his presence only made you feel more joyful - someone else could share your happiness for the simple things.

“Planning my escape!” you said with a laugh.

You didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was amused by your delightful mood. However, when you did turn to him he didn’t meet your gaze. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you thought you could see his ears burn red. You looked down to see your nightgown completely drenched, the thin fabric having become sheer. The dress clung to your form, leaving nothing to the imagination of the man standing in front of you; the curve of your hips, the mound of your breast - everything was on display. You gasped and tried to cover yourself up with your scarf, but the thunder and lightning started you and you dropped the fabric in the fountain.

“Please, have my coat”, Prince Hong said.

You watched him shrug off his coat. His eyes were still not meeting yours, they were pointed straight to the ground. Be that as it may, you were staring right at him. Wearing nothing but an undershirt, you watched as his skin peeked through wherever the raindrops hit the white fabric. Something bubbled up in your stomach when you watched him as he put his coat around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said with a shaky breath.

You were staring at that pendant hanging on his chest again. The raven with the arrow in its claw. It glimmered as the lightning struck again. For some reason, the thunder and lightning that you had embraced before, now startled you. You threw yourself towards the Prince, pushing your hands against his chest. Prince Hong put his hands on your waist, keeping you in place. The two of you stood there for a moment, not moving an inch. When the lightning struck again, you let go of each other. The Prince grabbed your hand and started leading you inside.

Prince Hong led you into the parlor, there was a fire lit, and chairs pulled up around it. He sat you down in front of the fire and then got on his knees to feed more wood to the flames. You watched his drenched back work as he moved his upper body. His body wasn’t far from what the sculptures outside his office looked like. When he stood up you shifted your gaze to your hands. Your bare hands. He had held your hands without any gloves. From the new knowledge, your hands started burning and you felt your face go warm as well. Prince Hong picked up a blanket and put it in your lap, then grabbed another one to wrap around his shoulders - much to your disappointment.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

He brushed it off, settling down in his own chair. You wondered if he must have sat here before. The many books and papers littered across the table beside him told you that he had attempted to move his office here. You hid your naked hands under the blanket, suddenly feeling insecure. The Prince was watching you.

“Why were you out there?” he asked.

“Nightmares,” you said quietly, “I thought that if I couldn’t sleep, I could take a walk.”

“In the rain?”

“It wasn’t raining when I went out.” You sighed. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Why have you decided to move your entire office into the parlor?”

“Late night work, there’s a lot of paperwork I had to take over when my father fell ill,” he said, “Which is truly none of your business.”

“As your future wife I am-”

“But you’re not my wife yet,” he said with a smug look on his face, referring to your argument about his title a few days ago.

You sighed and leaned back, having nothing else to say to him. When you looked around, your eyes met a wooden checkered box. In between plush pillows and beautiful, carefully crafted, decorations, you found a wooden box that caught your attention.

“Do you want a rematch, your highness?”

The two of you were giggling, spilling your drinks on the wood while you played. The Prince had stored away a bottle of liquor and, despite your years of training to be a proper lady, you were drinking out of the bottle.

“Are you too drunk to see what a giant mistake you just made?” You giggled as you took the Prince’s bishop.

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice to you,” he said as he took the bottle from your hand.

His hand brushed against yours and you felt a giggle bubble up your throat, which you hid with a cough.

“You? Nice?” You scoffed and tried to brush off how good his touch made you feel.

Prince Hong put his lips to the bottle and drank the last of it, which you loudly protested. He only laughed it off, and seeing him chortle made you burst out as well. After he moved another piece, you put the man in check mate. You looked at him with a suspicious glance.

“You let me win,” you mumbled.

“What if I did?” He wore a beautiful loopy smile.

“Did you let me win the other time too?”

“Sadly, no.” The Prince sighed. “But I couldn’t resist this time… you get a sparkle in your eye when you win something. It’s endearing.”

Endearing. Your voice failed you when you tried to open your mouth to speak. You shut your mouth and looked down at your hands for another time. He was being genuinely nice to you. Or was this like the time at the ball? Was he just pretending to keep up an image? Except there weren’t any people here to see him. Just you. All alone with him. No chaperone, no one around for miles it seemed like; no one had come to check on the noise you were making, no one had seen you in the garden, and there was no one to disturb this moment. It all hit you at once. Looking at the Prince, he seemed to have realized as well.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “You look a bit cold.”

Prince Hong made his way around the small table and kneeled down in front of you. His hand pushed against your forehead as he looked up at you. His pupils were dilated, his lips slightly parted- they were flushed red and shimmering from a residue of alcohol.

“Prince H-”

“Please, my Princess…” he begged in a sinful whisper.

“... Joshua.” You took his hand in yours and brought it down from your forehead. “I’m alright.”

You held his hand in yours and pressed it against your cheek. Joshua’s other hand fell on your knee - it made you shiver. Suddenly he looked so desperate. Your eyebrows pinched and you looked down, right where his tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hand inched closer up your thigh, making your breath hitch in your throat. Every touch made something ignite in you, but you couldn’t put it into words. You had never felt this before.

“We shouldn’t…” You brought your hands to his face.

“I don’t know what you mean, Princess.” He moved closer to you. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“... I don’t know,” you whispered.

His lips were inches from yours, and you were the one to close the distance. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his soft lips against yours. As you leaned toward him, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him. Joshua moved back as you moved down from the couch and onto his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. The kiss deepended, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. You had no idea what you were doing, you just followed his lead. His calloused hands gripped your hips. Over the material of your thin nightgown, you could feel the roughness of his palms. And when his hands lightly encouraged your hips to move over his, you did. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The rough fabric of his pants against your core had you moaning against his lips. You pulled away from him, surprised with yourself, but you didn’t stop moving.

“Joshua…” you panted, “Why does this feel so good?”

Joshua stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at you with wide eyes, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. With his strong hands, he stopped you from moving. You whined and protested, but you couldn’t move.

“You’ve never-” He cleared his throat. “Y/N, I don’t think we should be doing this. Not now.”

“No, please, it was good-”

“That doesn’t matter, dearest.” He brushed his thumb against your cheek. “If you’ve never done this before, I don’t want this to be the first time.”

“Please, Joshua,” you begged and clawed at his shirt, “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Then you can wait for me, can’t you sweetheart?” he hummed, “I’m going to make you feel like this again, I promise. Just as long as you keep saying my name like that.”

You’d repeat his name over and over again if it meant that he’d continue whatever it was that he was doing to you. However, you could tell he was being serious. He helped you back up and wrapped you up in his coat again.

“I’ll make sure that no one’s outside, wait here for me.”

“Okay,” you murmured.

“Good girl,” he said and left your side.

That morning you woke up sweaty again - this time, however, it was not from a nightmare. You dreamt about the Prince touching you like he had the night before, and you felt something wet pooling between your legs. It was not time for your monthly bleeding yet, so the sensation confused you. You reached down under the covers and cupped your heat over your underwear, trying to remake what he had done to you the night before. It didn’t feel as good as his hips had, but the friction did help to dull the racing thoughts in your head. Moving your hand became difficult, so you began moving your hips over your palm instead. As you began humping your hand, the doors swung open.

“Good morning, Princess!” your chambermaid said happily.

You swore under your breath before greeting her, your secret act quickly hidden away but never forgotten.

Prince Hong did not show up for breakfast. You were furious, to say the least. After asking one of the servants, you found out that your future husband was in his office. So that’s where you went next. Your heels clicked against the floor as you strutted impatiently toward his office. Walking into the art room was way more flustering than it was before. Every statue of a male figure reminded you of Joshua’s wet shirt and his hands against your hips and on your thighs. You turned around to your servants with a flustered face.

“Leave us!”

They all left the room, and you stormed into the Prince’s office. He looked up from his papers, shocked by your sudden entrance. You walked up to your desk and slammed your hand onto the wood.

“What did you do to me?” you hissed.

“Sorry?” The Prince grinned, and you wanted to slap that smile right off his face.

“It feels like my entire body is on fire, you did something to me last night,” you huffed. “What did you do?”

“I apologize, but I-”

“I need you to do it again, Joshua,” you pleaded.

When he heard his name, Prince Hong’s eyes lit up. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the door, looking back at you from time to time. Your breath hitched in your throat as you heard him turn the key in the lock. In a matter of seconds, he was in front of you again. His hands hovered over your hips and, despite towering over you, you weren’t intimidated.

“Do you realize what it would mean?” he asked. “This is something that you’d do with your husband.”

“You are my husband-”

“Future husband.” He interrupted you. “This can be very sacred for a woman like you, I want you to be sure of your actions.”

“Do you not want this, your highness?” You looked down at his lips, and looked back up to his eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to ravage you since I saw you in that ballroom,” he admitted. “Containing my desire has been torture. You have no idea what you have done to me, and you have no idea how much of my energy it takes to loathe you.”

“Let me relieve you, then.” You put your hands on his chest. “I need you to show me how to get rid of this feeling. I don’t care about rules right now. Please.”

Joshua pushed you up on his desk, helping you pull up your dress in the process. You were glad that you weren’t wearing heavy fabrics or many layers today. If you had, you wouldn’t have felt his rough hands travel up your thighs or the cold feeling of the wooden table against your skin. Something that felt so good couldn’t be wrong - and his lips on yours was the most angelic sensation you had ever gotten the pleasure of experiencing. Joshua’s hands urged your legs to wrap around his waist. When you did, he lifted you up and carried you over to a chaise lounge in the corner of the room. He sat down and made you straddle him, just like you had last night. As you began grinding on his lap, Joshua smiled against your lips and wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re so eager,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t you want to slow down?”

“I don’t think you understand how bad I need this. I’m putting aside my pride for this, your highness.” You grinned as you ran your hands across his chest. “I just need you to do whatever you did before.”

“But there’s better things to do-”

You put your pointer finger on his lips and hushed him, making him smile. A part of you still wanted control, even though he was clearly the one with the most knowledge. So you decided what you’d do and when you’d do it, he just had to show you how.

“Show me later, okay?”

He nodded before connecting his lips to yours again. Joshua’s hands gripped your hips, just as he had the night before, and he started moving you over his crotch. You moaned into the kiss. Finally getting what you had been needing the past few hours, you let go of all of your tension. Without you noticing, Joshua had removed his hands and your hips were now moving on your own.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you Princess? Moving all on your own.” His hands gently grabbed at the delicate fabric of your dress. “What a fast learner, I bet I can teach you to do things you can’t even imagine right now.”

You moaned at his words and the feeling of something hardening in his trousers. If you had been in the right state of mind you would’ve died from embarrassment, but something about this made your brain foggy and you couldn’t care less about consequences right now. He began kissing down your jaw, leaving sloppy marks on your skin.

“You like feeling dirty, baby?” He grinned against your skin. “If I knew you’d be like this, I would’ve tried something sooner.”

Your movements grew sloppy, and Joshua put his hands back on your hips. Both of your noises bounced around his office, and the lewd scene of it all made your head spin. Joshua gripped you harder, his fingertips surely leaving marks on your skin. When your head fell onto his shoulder, he chuckled and loosened his grip ever so slightly.

“Tired already, honey?”

“I feel like I’m going to explode…” you stuttered out.

“Good, baby. Means you’re about to cum,” he panted, “You can cum for me, right? It’ll make you feel so good, Princess.”

“Yeah.” You gripped at his shoulders and nodded. “Gonna cum, ‘Shua…”

“Just let go for me, let it wash over you…” He began kissing your neck again.

Something snapped in your lower stomach, and you felt what you could only describe as fireworks going off inside you. Joshua kept moving his hips back and forth until he grunted and stuttered his hips. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close while you came down from your high.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Joshua’s hand was stroking your back in a calming manner.

You could only hum in response, your entire body had gone numb and you couldn’t find it in you to reply properly. His laugh rumbled through his chest, and you nuzzled your face closer to him at the feeling. Even though a part of you was screaming at yourself to get out now that the act was done, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Joshua shifted, letting you lay down with your back on the chaise lounge. He sat up, you whined from the loss of contact, and he helped you fix your dress to cover your legs again. When he sat beside you again, he had a strange look in his eyes.

“What?” You smiled and sat up.

“I didn’t think this could ever happen with someone like you,” he admitted.

“Someone like me?”

“You’re usually a lot more high strung,” he teased.

“Excuse you,” you scoffed. “I’m fun to be around- and you can’t deny that!”

“I’m not trying to say anything, Princess-”

“Don’t ‘Princess’ me! You know what?” You stood up from the couch, “This is the last time I’ll do anything like this with you.”

It was not the last time. Prince Hong taught you things about your own body that you didn’t know that you could do. The first time he ate you out, in a secluded corner of the library, you almost passed out from the sensation. Your hand had been clamped over your mouth, your legs shaking around his shoulders as he held you in place when he drew orgasm after orgasm from you. His hand appeared from under your skirt after what felt like hours, your juices dripping from his chin, and he had proudly commented on how “he won” your bet after looking at his watch.

Leading up to the announcement of your engagement, Prince Hong had taught you how to be, what he called, a good slut - a term which you both loved and hated. The day of the engagement announcement you were in his office again, this time under his desk. Your knees were probably bruised, but you didn’t care.

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart,” Joshua hissed. “Who taught you to suck cock like a good little slut, hm?”

Your mouth let go of his cock with a pop, and you continued stroking it. In any other state of mind, you wouldn’t dignify him with a response, but you couldn’t help yourself when your brain was in a fog.

“You did, your Highness,” you moaned.

“Good girl.” Joshua ran his fingers through your hair and made you look him in the eye, instead of staring down his reddened cock. “Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?”

You nodded excitedly and took his cock in your mouth again, trying to take it deeper and choking on his length. The bit that you couldn’t take with your mouth, you pumped with your fist. The Prince had yet to fuck you, and every day that passed made you wonder if you could actually take him. He was big and even though you hadn’t seen a cock before, it seemed like it wasn’t supposed to be this huge - especially considering how much just two of his fingers filled you up. Much to your dismay, there was a sudden knock at the door. Joshua pushed you under the desk which, thankfully, had a back to it so that the person walking through the door would be unaware of your presence.

“Come in,” the Prince said, making your eyes widen in horror.

You tap his knee, trying to get his attention, and tell him to not let another person in the room. Joshua completely ignored you, and only moved closer to the desk. The person came in and started discussing the engagement announcement with the Prince. You didn’t listen very intently, you were far too busy staring at Joshua’s, still hard, cock. His hands were on the table, unable to reach down and stop you without arousing suspicion. You took the chance at hand and wrapped your hand around his cock again. Joshua cleared his throat to cover a gasp. He kept on talking, so you took his head into your mouth again. Your tongue swirled around his tip before you started sucking him off again.

“Are you alright, sir?” the man on the other side of the desk asked.

“I’m just fine. I suppose it’s nerves.” The Prince managed to joke his suspicious behavior away, but he couldn’t continue like that forever.

You took his shaft as deep in your mouth as you could without making a sound. One of your hands stayed on his cock, but the other started massaging his balls. His cock twitched inside your mouth, and you knew he was close. The Prince cleared his throat again and asked abruptly to be left alone. When you heard the door open and, finally, close you let go of his cock again.

“Fucking slut,” he sighed and looked down to you. “Can’t keep off of my cock, can you?”

“You know I need my mouth filled if you want me to shut up, sir,” you responded with a sudden confidence.

Prince Hong was caught by surprise by your forwardness. A mixture of pride and fear swirled in his eyes as he looked upon his horny creation. You grabbed his shaft again and pumped it slowly, all while you were staring up at him with a smile.

“You can’t be mad at me for doing what I was taught, Prince Hong,” you said, “Especially not when I had such an eager teacher.”

Joshua swore under his breath as he watched you sucking him off. You kept eye contact, urging him to cum whenever he wanted - you would take it all for him. When he came, with a string of moans followed by dirty words, you didn’t swallow his seed immediately. Instead, you waited for him to look at you, and opened your mouth for him to see you before you swallowed. He reached out to touch you and graced his thumb across your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured.

“I win,” you whispered.

Joshua chuckled but didn’t try to deny it as he usually did. He didn’t even try to do anything to “discipline” you like he had tried before. He looked at you with a warm gaze, almost lovingly. Your victory, in making him cum, was trumped by his nearly romantic actions. What this meant was unknown to you.

Later that afternoon, you were preparing yourself for the announcement. You would stand in front of a crowd, beside your future husband while he held a short speech about the future alliance. Then you would speak to the people, talking about how welcomed you felt and how this would be an alliance to last. Your engagement was a symbol of hope, everything had to be perfect.

You were dressed in a traditional gown of your kingdom. It was blue, representing the oceans that surrounded your land and the peace that this alliance would bring. The Prince would, in a similar fashion, be wearing green - representing his kingdom’s many fields and forests. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you wondered if your parents would be proud of your sacrifice.

“Miss, are you ready for the ring?” your chambermaid asked.

You merely nodded and turned to her. The ring had a jewel the size of a pea, which matched the jewels in your crown. A part of you wished that Prince Hong could have given this to you himself. Would it be so horrible if he had just given the ring to you himself? He didn’t have to get down on one knee, but he could have made this more personal.

“You look beautiful,” the maid said.

“Thank you.” You gave her a kind smile, then turned back to the mirror.

There was no getting out of this now, this was the end of the road for your freedom. You told yourself you would learn to love the Prince, it wasn’t as if you didn’t enjoy his company from time to time. You put the ring on your gloved finger, the metal clashing against the white fabric of the glove.

Standing in front of hundreds of people, who were all there to see you, felt less nerve-wracking than you thought it would. You were standing on a stage beside the Prince. Your hands were strategically placed in front of you, one over the other, and making sure that the ring would show. A smile was plastered on your face as you listened to him talk. Your father and your future mother-in-law were standing behind you, also listening and smiling.

“And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this beautiful woman.” Joshua gestured to you with a charming smile. “She is truly a symbol of hope for this land, and she shall be cherished as one.”

The last comment made your smile falter slightly, but only for a second. That word, “symbol”, sat with you in a weird way. Nevertheless, your mind is filled with scenarios of what his cherishing would entail. The Prince continued talking, even though you could barely listen anymore. When it was your turn to speak, your hands were trembling. Prince Hong must have noticed this because his hand soon appeared on the small of your back in a comforting manner. You barely remember what you said, your mind was elsewhere while you were speaking. By the look on your father’s face, however, it seemed like you said the right things. When applause reached your ears, and Joshua’s gentle hand began pushing you, you knew to go back inside the castle.

“Good girl,” Joshua whispered in your ear, only loud enough for you to hear.

You felt your knees wobble and a warm feeling spreading in your lower stomach. His hand on your back was burning through the fabric of your dress, but you never wanted him to remove it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Fuck, why did you have to do that to me when we’re in public?” you hissed as he pushed you against the wall of a closet.

His leg was shoved between yours, rubbing against your cunt. You were struggling with the fabric of your dress, pulling it up to give him more access.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Princess.” Joshua grinned.

When he began kissing down your neck, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your hips were moving on their own across his thigh, while he kissed as far down your chest as your dress would let him. He had yet to see you completely naked yet, the closest he had gotten was seeing you in your nightgown.

“Why haven’t you fucked me properly yet?” The words came out of your mouth without warning.

“I have to save something for the honeymoon, dearest,” he joked and kneeled down in front of you, “Be grateful I’m giving you anything at all right now.”

“Screw you,” you gasped as he ripped off your underwear.

You watched with a slack jaw as he put your ripped panties in his pocket. Joshua kissed up your thigh, taking it and moving it to sit atop his shoulder. One of your hands rested in his hair, while the other tried to find a surface that you could stabilize yourself on. As he delved into your heat, you accidentally knocked something off a shelf but at least you found something to hold onto.

“You’re a piece of shit sometimes,” you breathed out.

“Careful, honey,” he tutted and began rubbing your clit with his fingers. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge of your orgasm.”

“I could do this myself, you know,” you huffed.

“Oh really?” Joshua sat back. “Why don’t you make yourself cum for me then? Prove me wrong.”

You ripped off one of your gloves, the one without the ring on, and slid down the wall to sit down. Suddenly aware of Joshua looking at you, your face flushed.

“Are you going to watch me?” you asked.

“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you like this before.”

He had. Nevertheless, you felt that all of your time spent together had gone to waste. The time that you were supposed to practice for public appearances was spent with way more private situations in mind. Was this really what you wanted?

“Prince H-”

“Joshua.”

“Joshua,” you said and closed your legs, “I don’t mind this relationship- I prefer it… but shouldn’t we try to work on our public relationship?”

He paused and then shuffled to sit up straighter. As soon as you had said it, you regretted even opening your mouth. Joshua’s expression broke you. The sudden cold and analytical eyes were a harsh replacement for his previously mischievous but warm look.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked defensively.

“We’re officially engaged,” you stated, feeling like it was obvious enough to explain your needs.

“What did you think was going to change? That we’re magically going to fall in love because you wear a ring on your left hand?”

His words cut you deeper than you expected his words ever could. It was partly his tone, suddenly changed from his teasing and flirting to the person you met after the ball. You hated this side of him. However, his words hurt because they were somewhat true. You had started thinking that this new side of him was all there was to him, now that you had gotten to know him a little better. That was your first mistake. You stood up, wanting to put space in between you but you were stuck between him and the wall. He stood up as well.

“Is it wrong for me to want love?” You started feeling stinging in your eyes. “I never wanted you. Do you know what I wanted? I wanted to love and be loved in the comfort of my own kingdom. I’m only here for you, and you can’t even bring yourself to like me when you’re not fucking me!”

“I didn’t make this choice either!” he exclaimed, “You’re not here for me, you’re here for my kingdom-”

“I am not a ‘symbol of hope’!” you interrupted. “I’m not a symbol at all, I’m human- why do you never treat me like a person, Prince Hong?”

“As if you don’t do the same to me! Why can’t you see me past my title?”

“Fuck you!” you said, as you fell short on a reply to his counter argument.

The two of you stare at each other, chests heaving. Prince Hong suddenly lept toward you, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was rough and sloppy. A tear fell down your cheek, and you gave in for a second. For a second he was the man you loved, kissing you for no other reason than the fact that he was in love with you too. You quickly snapped out of that state of mind, pushing the Prince away from you and into the shelves beside you.

“I’m going back home!” you cried, “I’ll plan this stupid wedding from there- but you have to leave me alone until then!”

Prince Hong doesn’t say a thing as you leave.

The carriage that would take you to the nearest coast, where you would take a boat back to your kingdom, was ready for you about an hour after you requested it. It only took half an hour to pack your necessary things and tell your father of your sudden departure. He took it as you expected, with grace, and told you that he’d handle wedding things in Ceadrotia before joining you for a while. The wedding wouldn’t happen for a month, so you had time to relax at home before moving your entire life to another kingdom.

A bumpy carriage ride was not what you needed right now. The over one-hour-long ride was hell, but you’d rather be in hell than stay another minute in the castle of Ceadrotia. You didn’t want to face Prince Hong for a while - what he had said to you hurt, but a part of you also knew that you were in the wrong. A combination of anger and embarrassment flooded your chest and tears flooded your eyes.

Arriving at the coast was relieving, it was a promise of finally coming home. Xaevia was surrounded by the ocean, and water was of high cultural importance. Almost every home had its own big bath, and those who didn’t could go to the many public baths around the kingdom. Water is life, and in Xaevia it was taken very seriously. So your stay in Ceadrotia had been unusual from your normal life. It hadn’t necessarily been bad, but it had only made your homesickness worse.

As you watched your things get loaded onto the boat that would carry you home, you thought you heard someone calling your name. You looked towards the boat, thinking that maybe someone wanted to ask you something about where your luggage should be, but everyone was busy and not even looking your way.

“Princess!”

Both of your guards prepared themselves but quickly went back to their natural position when they saw who it was. Prince Hong was riding toward you, having followed you on horseback. You take your time processing his presence, which is enough time for him to jump off his horse and walk up to you. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were determined.

“We should have the wedding in Xaevia,” he said abruptly, then paused as if he had forgotten all of his words. “And I’m sorry I didn’t realize your sacrifice for me sooner... if you’ll let me, I want to come with you to Xaevia and help you make the wedding that you desire.”

There was complete silence between you. If it weren’t for the ocean waves or the grunting of the men loading the luggage onto the boat, you could have heard a pin drop. The Prince looked to you for an answer, but you were unsure if you could give him a proper one. A wedding in your home country was what you wanted, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him just because of his sudden declaration. Joshua reached up and pressed his hand to his chest, right over his heart.

“I have promised my country a sufficient ruler.” He gripped the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “However, my affection and my devotion will always be with you first. I need you, Princess, and I apologize for hiding behind such a sorry excuse as I did. There is no one else that I could consider being my Queen. I need you there with me Y/N.”

There was no other sound, they had all been drowned out by your beating heart. You stared into Joshua’s desperate eyes. He longed for you, or at least he was willing to act like he did. A part of you still thought of him as deceitful, a devil with many tricks, but you set it aside for now. You took a deep breath and looked over to the ship. They were almost finished packing.

“We’re leaving now.” You looked back at him. “If you truly wish to come with me, you’ll have to leave with only the clothes on your back.”

“I don’t desire anything else than to stay by your side, Princess.”

“Good.”

The boat ride would take a day to complete and, since you had left so late in the day, you’d be arriving in the midst of the night. You were standing by the bow, looking towards where you were sailing. It was already dark, so there was not much to see, but you enjoyed the feeling of standing at the front of the ship. It wasn’t just the view; it was the feeling of the salty air, the sound of the ship plowing through the waves, and the slight rocking underneath your feet. Everything felt so natural to you.

“It’ll get cold soon, Princess.” You heard Joshua call out to you.

His footsteps echoed towards you, each step graceful as if in a waltz. He was a good dancer afterall. You felt the heavy fabric of a wool blanket wrap around your shoulders. One of his hands lingered there, and you put your hand on top of his before you turned to look at him.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “For everything.”

“It’s nothing. I want you to be happy,” he admitted. “Even if this isn’t exactly what you had in mind.”

“It’s certainly not,” you chuckled and turned back to look at the sea.

In the far distance, you could see lights, meaning that you were closing in on land. You let go of the Prince’s hand, which led him to let his hand slip off your shoulder.

“It’s enough,” you added. “This is enough for me.”

Prince Hong now stood beside you, looking toward the lights as well. When you looked at him, he reminded you of the many stories of beautiful mermaids and mermen you had been told as a child. Beautiful but devious, although helpful and even generous at times. His emblem of the raven gleamed in the moonlight.

“What does the raven mean? Is your kingdom not known for its soil?” you asked.

Joshua looked down at the emblem and held it in his hand. He inspected it as if it would give him the secrets to its definition, but it didn’t take him long before he answered.

“Many people see the raven as an evil omen. It means death in certain cultures. We associate it with its insight and wisdom. The raven is always there, watching over.” He turned the jewelry in his hand. “They’re said to travel between the world of the living and the dead- they’re our connection to the ones before us. Yes, we’re known for our crops- but I suppose this is our way of honoring our ancestors, of having them with us. We come from the soil, and we’ll go back to the soil when we die- it’s the raven’s job to tell our story.”

He looked at you with an embarrassed smile, clearly feeling like he had talked too much. His hands were perched on the railing of the ship, so you placed yours beside his.

“I think it’s a good way to honor tradition,” you said, “And maybe learn from past mistakes.”

He seemed more relieved now that you had shown your interest. His hand inched closer to yours. You looked up at him. This is the first conversation you had together without throwing petty insults or interrupting each other by pressing one’s lips onto the other’s.

“I hope to show you these kinds of things in my kingdom as well, if you’re up to it,” you said.

“I’d love to,” he smiled.

This was what it was like to try, and you wished you would’ve done it sooner.

The arrival was a blur of happy shouts from your family and many hugs. Prince Hong was slightly left behind, except for a simple “hello” and “welcome”. You were finally home again, and you couldn’t think of anything else. That night you slept well in your old bed, with no nightmares in sight.

As soon as it slipped that the wedding would be held in Xaevia and not in Ceadrotia, your entire family erupted in happy shouts and screeches. The planning began almost immediately, and word was sent out to the people of both kingdoms quicker than you could have imagined. The people of Xaevia cheered for the sudden change and, while there were people who were happy for you in Ceadrotia, not everyone took it as well in the Prince’s home country. It was to be expected, and you didn’t let that slow your wedding plans down.

The wedding was to be held in Xaevia’s royal palace, and your honeymoon would be spent in a castle on one of the islands surrounding the kingdom. With everything surrounding preparations for the wedding, and finally getting to be with your family again, you didn’t have much time to spend with the Prince. You saw him whenever you were working on the wedding together; you picked out the colors together, the flowers, et cetera - all of which surprised you as he didn’t seem like the type who would do this sort of thing. Nevertheless, he was surprisingly good at it.

As you were looking at the different flowers together, you finally got a moment alone. There were guards and servants around, but it was the most alone you had been together since you had gotten to Xaevia.

“You’re not too bad at this, your highness,” you said with a small smile.

“I enjoy beautiful things.” He had a flirty tone, and the look in his eye confirmed it. “You should know that by now.”

You chuckled but didn’t delve into that sort of conversation any further. You had made a conscious effort to not indulge yourself in flirtatious conversations with the Prince because of your earlier sexual pursuits. Even though you wouldn’t mind falling into the same routine, you didn’t want to risk an argument like you had before.

“I suggest the peonies- they’re supposed to mean romance and prosperity,” you said, avoiding the topic that the Prince had tried to bring up.

“Sure, but I-”

“Red roses are beautiful but seem a little cliché, and they’re difficult to take care of.”

“Yes, Princess, but I’d really like to talk about-”

“But I don’t,” you interrupted him again, “If we talk, we fight. So let’s not talk, Prince Hong. Just tell me what flowers you think we should have at our wedding.”

“... Hoary stock,” he pointed to the pink and long flowers, “Beauty that doesn’t fade with age.”

His tone was cold again, but not as cold as it had been during your argument in the closet. It was more of a disappointed tone than anything else. Nevertheless, he was right. The hoary stock would be nice, and you were sure that you could figure out a good bouquet to decorate the halls. The woman taking care of the flower arrangement came back, and you motioned to the peonies and the hoary stock. Now that you were finished you walked out of the room with Prince Hong, but you turned away from each other as soon as you got into the hallway.

The day of the wedding had arrived, and you were shaking from the nerves. That morning had been spent scrubbing you clean and pampering you to get ready for your big day. Maids had helped you put on your white dress and fix your hair. Everything had to be perfect, and you weren’t allowed to lift a finger. When you got out of your bathroom, you were met with a surprise. Your room had been filled with flowers, a supposed gift from the Prince. You were a white dot in the middle of a sea of red. Roses gave the room a pleasant smell, but sitting there alone with them made you feel lonely. The grand gestures were nice, and you were sure that the Prince would continue giving them - but that wasn’t enough for you. It was a marvelous act, but it only showed that he had the resources to do these kinds of things for you - not that he had put any feelings behind them. You felt selfish, but you tried to shake it off.

Since the wedding wasn’t being held in Ceadrotia, and the King was still alive, you wouldn’t be crowned Queen or sworn into your future kingdom. This ceremony was only meant to celebrate the alliance of two kingdoms and the marriage of two people. Still, it was to be held in Xaevia’s throne hall. It was a long, oval-shaped room that could fit around a hundred people - which would all be seated in rows in two lines, with the aisle in the middle of the two. At the end of the room were two thrones, both decorated with white gold and blue, and above them sat Xaevia’s emblem; two seahorses with their backs facing each other, and a sword between them.

“No peeking, Princess!” One of the maids giggled and pulled you back from the curtain.

People had settled in the throne room and, if you looked out to the window on the other side of this small room, the people outside were all waiting for an appearance from the newlywed. After the ceremony, you and the Prince would walk out onto a balcony and greet the people of Xaevia, as well as the people of Ceadrotia who had arrived for this special occasion.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just nervous.”

“It’s completely natural for you to be nervous.” Your mother walked into the room.

With a big smile, you lifted up your dress slightly and sprinted over to her the best you could. The two of you embraced, and she kissed your cheek. You felt yourself finally relax.

“You’re going to shine out there, darling,” she said as she let go of you.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I’m just happy it could be held here.”

“Well, that Prince of yours is certainly generous. It’s more than anyone else would have done, especially with the backlash he might get from his own people,” she muttered. “But! Not for you to worry about now, darling!”

Your mother didn’t have the best way with words, but you decided to try to forget about the comment. Such things could be taken care of after this wedding.

“The Prince is about to walk down the aisle,” a maid said.

“Then that’s my cue to leave,” your mother said, “I’ll see you out there, darling.”

When your mother left your side, you prepared yourself by the curtains. Your father soon joined you, and you held his arm. The music started, and the Prince walked in. You could picture his charming smile and suave walk, and you shut your eyes tight at the thought of having to look at him while slowly walking down the aisle. When the curtains finally opened, and your flower girl had taken a few steps, you started walking arm-in-arm with your father. Your eyes were on the floor, but you knew it wasn’t proper so you forced yourself to look at your future husband. He was smiling. His formal suit was blue, which you thought was a nice touch, and he wore a crown in a similar fashion to yours. The most important thing to you, however, was the idyllic look in his eyes as he intently watched you walk down the aisle. Maybe it was your imagination, but you thought you saw tears in his eyes.

The song ended and you were standing in front of him. He held out his hands to you, and you placed your hands in his. They were still shaking, but when he started stroking his thumb over the back of your hand you calmed down a little.

“Dearly beloved.”

And the ceremony started.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After the ceremony, greeting the people, and a short celebration, you and Joshua took a boat to the island where you’d spend your one-week honeymoon. It was where you spent a lot of your summers as a child. Stepping foot on the island again, seeing that it hadn’t really changed, was comforting.

“It’s beautiful,” Prince Hong commented.

“Just as I remember it,” you added.

He looked at you with a warm smile, which he had been wearing all day. The Prince seemed to be genuinely happy, and it calmed you down. Your shoulders relaxed, and you took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. As you walked up the stone steps to the castle, he held your hand to keep you steady.

The castle was up on a hill, looking over the ocean. It wasn’t far from the coast of Xaevia, and you could see the royal palace from the beach of the island. Even though the castle wasn’t very big, and the towers weren’t very tall, it was certainly enough for the two of you. The humble stone castle gave you a warm welcome, along with its staff. They congratulated you as soon as you made it through the door. You were lucky that you had changed into a simpler dress before stepping foot on the island, walking up so many steps in a big wedding gown would have been hell - and as you entered the castle, you saw even more steps.

“Where do you want to go, my Princess?” he asked, and now it was really true - you were his Princess.

“The sun’s about to set,” you said, “Maybe we could get settled and then I can finally get to show you one of the many baths in Xaevia.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

He lifted you off your feet in one swoop and began carrying you up the stairs. A squeak escaped your lips, followed by quiet giggles and snorts. Your hands gripped onto Joshua’s shoulders and you pressed yourself against him. You had no doubt that this man was strong and stable enough to carry you, but it was still nerve-wracking.

“... where are we going?” he whispered once he reached the top of the stairs.

“Over there,” you whispered back and pointed to where he should walk.

Joshua carried you like this all the way to your shared bedroom, with the help of your directions, and both of you giggled the entire way. It felt ridiculous to act like a married couple without having had a proper courting season, but both of you leaned into the absurdity of it.

Once Joshua had managed to open the door to the bedroom and walked in, he carefully threw you on the bed. You looked around and saw that your things had already been carried up to the room. The staff works fast. The rustling of Joshua taking off his coat brought your attention back to him. Before you could process anything, he was on top of you and pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hi? Is that all you have to say to your husband?” he joked.

“Shouldn’t we go to the bath? The sun is about to set, I want you to see it with a view.”

“You’re all the view I need.” Joshua kissed you again, but you quickly pulled away.

“I’m serious, Joshua,” you chuckled.

You were bothered that he could so easily float into the role of your husband, as if you hadn’t argued and as if you hadn’t had the relationship you had. He couldn’t even acknowledge it, there was no time to just talk about what you had been through together or what the future might hold.

“Okay, let’s go to the bathtub.” He huffed.

“It’s not a tub-”

The two of you arrived at the large pool of water, surrounded by pillars that supported a roof. It had three walls, to protect it from wind, and one side was an open view of the ocean. You had made it just in time to see the sunset, painting both the ocean and the water of the bath in beautiful hues of lilac and red.

“See? Not a tub.” You smiled at him

“It’s gorgeous,” he said, “Did you want to go for a swim?”

Joshua began unraveling his shirt in front of you. You widened your eyes in shock and looked around, but there was no one to be seen here. You were all alone again. He kept taking off his shirt and threw it to the ground.

“Should I help you?”, he asked as he saw that you hadn’t moved an inch.

“... I don’t know.” Was all you could say.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” His voice was sweet and laced with worry.

“Don’t-...” You sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Joshua took a step towards you, holding out his hands to you like he had during the wedding. You remembered how comforting he had been, and you took his hands. His thumb began gently rubbing the back of your hand again, and you took a deep breath.

“Who says we’re in a fight?” he asked.

“... when we were in Ceadrotia, we ended up fighting during…” You stopped yourself. “I’m sorry, this is stupid. Maybe we should just-”

“No, it’s not stupid,” he assured you. “We fought, yes. What does that have to do with now?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, “What if all that we can do is fight and… fool around?”

He chuckled at your choice of words but brought you slightly closer to him by pulling at your hands. You took a deep breath and finally looked him in the eye. His kind brown eyes calmed you down.

“You’re my wife now, Y/N,” he said softly, “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you live a good life with me. That isn’t to say we won’t fight, we might, but we can handle it together. I’m sure we can. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded.

Joshua pulled you even further towards him. One of his hands hugged your lower back, while the other held your hand. With a knowing smile, you put your hand on his bare shoulder. He slowly started swaying from side to side.

“There’s no music,” you whispered.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

You put your head on his chest, and his hand that was previously holding yours now met the other one on your back. He hugged you, still swaying slightly, and kissed the top of your head. There was no time present in this moment, Joshua had taken up your entire universe. The feeling of his skin under your hands, his smell, his soft breaths against the top of your head - the only thing that existed was Prince Hong.

“Would you help me take this off?” You pulled away to look at him. “I think I want to go for a swim anyway.”

Joshua smiled and nodded softly. He took one of your arms, running his hand across it until he reached your glove. His fingers gently pulled one of the gloves of your hands, his lips kissing every inch of skin that he revealed. When he finally removed the piece of fabric completely he threw it to the side, looked you in the eye, and kissed the back of your hand. You let out a soft laugh as he did the same with the other glove.

“Turn around for me, my love.”

You did as he said, and turned your back to him. As he began unbuttoning the back of your dress, you realized that he had never seen you without clothes on. Joshua pressed a kiss to your upper back, comforting you without saying a word. You pulled the sleeves off and let the gown fall to the floor. You were left in your corset and underwear. His expert hands worked magic on your corset, and soon enough Joshua had taken it off. With an anxious feeling spreading in your chest, you turned around to face him, your hands covering your chest.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“It would be better if I weren’t the only one naked,” you suggested.

While Joshua pulled off the rest of his clothes, you took off the last you had on and started walking down the stairs of the pool. The water was still warm, and you quickly dove in. When you came to the surface again, you wiped the water from your face and looked behind you. Joshua was waist-deep in the water, looking out towards the view. You watched him without saying anything, taking in his appearance as if it were the last time you would see him. His body looked like it was sculpted by the gods. Broad shoulders, a soft curve from his chest to the lower abdomen, and his muscles being more pronounced with the shadows created by the sunsets - your eyes had been blessed. Joshua met your eyes, and you had to stop drooling over him. Having never seen him naked before, it was difficult to not stare and you had to look away to force yourself to stop.

“You can stare as much as you want, sweetheart.” He walked further into the pool. “I’m all yours now.”

Your body sank down in the water, hiding everything except from your eyes and nose. Joshua swam towards you. Seeing you flustered over his frame clearly made him proud because he had a big grin on his face, showing off his perfect teeth. Was everything about this man perfect? How had you not seen this before?

“Can I hold you?” he asked.

You let the rest of your head peek up from the surface of the water, nodding yes to his questions. Joshua’s strong arms wrapped around you. His smooth skin under the water felt like laying down in a bed of silk.

“I’m happy that it’s you that I get to spend the rest of my life with,” he murmurs into your ear.

You’re unsure of when and why Joshua had turned so soft, but you weren’t going to complain about it. Moving your hands up his body, feeling every curve and crevice, you cupped his face in the palms of your hands. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, not thinking you’d be so forward. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, leaving him wanting more when you pulled away.

“Are you going to prove it to me, your highness?” you said with a grin, making Joshua scoff.

“Maybe I should just leave you here, hm?”

“Don’t,” you warned. “What do you want me to call you then?”

“Joshua,” you moaned out as your back hit your bed again.

The flimsy towel wrapped around your body had been pulled off as soon as you entered your room, and thrown into a corner. Joshua’s hands held onto your waist while he kissed down your jaw to your chest. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you felt him smile against your skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathed out, “Please.”

“I’ll do more than that, my love.” Joshua crawled back up to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “I want to take care of you, make love to you.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him again. Hands cupping his face, while he pressed his body against yours. Feeling his skin on yours, his hard cock against your lower abdomen, without any fabric coming in between you felt like heaven. His slow, deep kisses suddenly turned into pecks all across your face and you giggled at the feeling. Joshua was so different from the other times, it put butterflies in your stomach.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Loving you,” he answered. “I want this time to be different. Special.”

“It is, I promise you.”

“Good.” He smiled and gave you another peck. “Is it okay if I do this?”

Joshua brought his hand down to your lower stomach, and you nodded. His fingers did quick work at spreading your wetness around and rubbing your clit before he went lower to insert a finger in you. The sensation was familiar to you, and you didn’t show a very big reaction - you were far too busy with your lips on his. However, when he pushed in another digit, scissoring them and stretching you out, you started whining.

“Think you’re ready for me?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours

“Yeah,” you hummed.

Cumming around his fingers wasn’t new for you, but somehow he made it feel even better this time. Maybe it was the feeling of complete relaxation that you finally got around him. Joshua began rubbing his tip against your soaked cunt, making you squirm.

“... Shua,” you whined.

“God, I love it when you use my name,” he huffed out and kissed your temple.

He finally pushed inside you, slowly to make sure you got used to the different size. You gripped his shoulders and let out a quiet gasp. The quiet whimpers coming from you urged Joshua to keep going until he bottomed out, and then he stayed there. You felt completely full and unable to move.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, voice slightly strained.

“Mhm…” You nodded. “Are you okay, Shua?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He chuckled.

Joshua shifted slightly, getting more comfortable, but the movement made you whine. The sheer size of his cock was enough to make you tremble. He looked at you to check in with you, and you answered with a tired smile.

“You can move,” you murmured, “I’ll be okay.”

He answered by slowly pulling out until his tip was almost out of you, the two of you groaned and whimpered at the sight, and then plunged in you again. Joshua’s lips captured yours in a kiss again as he began moving his hips. The tip of his cock hit a spot inside you that made you see stars every time he thrusted into you. Your kiss grew needy and sloppy as your bodies moved against each other. It was impossible to ignore the growing tension in your lower stomach, and Joshua’s hands wandering across your body only egged you on more.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” Joshua mumbled against your lips.

“It’s good…” Was all you could muster to say, your mind too far gone to think.

“Adorable.”

The two of you giggled, you more so because of the rousing feeling in your stomach. It was a familiar feeling, but somehow different this time. Joshua’s bare skin was hot against yours. All of these sensations became too much; his touch, his kiss, his soft moans… it all fired you up until you couldn’t take it anymore. You warned him with one final cry of pleasure, and he came soon after you.

Joshua fell on top of you with a grunt, his cock still deeply buried inside you. You put your arms around him, one of your hands playing with the hair by the nape of his neck. He hummed happily at the feeling, placing soft kisses in the crook of your neck. Adoration filled your heart as he looked up at you again, his big doe eyes sparkling like they held every star of the universe. Over a month ago you despised the man, but now you never wanted to leave his side.

“We should go to bed,” you murmured as you played with his hair.

“Stay still, I’ll help you.”

He pulled out of you, letting out a soft groan. For once you had no trouble doing what he told you to, so you laid still on the bed. While he got the bed ready for the two of you, you just watched him. While he certainly knew that you were watching him, evident by his proud smile, he didn’t look back at you. Not until he decided to move you to lay under the covers. You winced and he cooed at you, tucking you in gently before getting under the covers himself. The bed was big but unlike your bed in Ceadrotia, you didn’t feel lonely or cold - how could it be with Joshua there with you?

“Do you think we made an heir?” you asked in a giddy tone while he cuddled closer to you.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” he hummed, “If not, we can always try again.”

“Then I hope that we didn’t.”

You laid on top of him, your head right above his chest. The two of you stayed quiet, the only sound being the wind blowing outside. Joshua’s fingers drew circles on your bare back under the covers. Everything felt so perfect.

“What would you name them?” he suddenly asked, “Our heir, that is.”

“I think I’d wait until I saw them,” you thought out loud, “Holding them in my arms for the very first time, I think it’d make me come up with a name on the spot.”

Joshua let out a soft laugh. You leaned on your elbows to get a better look at him, wondering if he was teasing you. His eyes were closed, ready for sleep. Brushing out the black strands of hair that had fallen in his face got his attention back to you. His eyes fluttered open and looked at you.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you teasing me?” you mumbled.

“I’m not, I think it’s sweet,” he said, “Just like you.”

Satisfied with his answer, you put your head back on his chest. The two of you talked a bit further, saying sweet nothings to each other before falling asleep for the first time as a married couple.

The honeymoon week was spent staying close together. You didn’t just stay in the bedroom, you ended up getting creative with your sex life again - this time without having to sneak around. Going for a swim? Sex by the pool. Have a cute picnic in the castle garden? Fucking on the picnic blanket. Suddenly horny during breakfast? Tell the staff to leave the room because you’re about to fuck on the table. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

However, you didn’t just fuck around for the entire week. You started talking, exploring each other’s interests and minds - instead of just bodies as you had before. Through your talks, you got to know Joshua as he was when there was no pressure for him to behave in a certain way. He was a naturally flirty and charming person, but he was also gentle and truly kind - and you experienced that kindness time and time again.

Good things always come to an end. When you got back to Xaevia, you were met with saddened faces - your parents and siblings wearing black. The King of Ceadrotia had passed away. Everything happened so fast, that you were unsure of what to do yourself. Joshua went back to his kingdom right away, leaving you behind. You were left to prepare for your permanent move to Ceadrotia in the midst of mourning. The wedding was only a week ago, but two entire countries are already clouded with sorrow. You wondered what you could’ve possibly done to deserve it - but shook it off as a selfish thought.

Arriving in Ceadrotia after the death of the King was contrasting from the first time you arrived. No one was smiling, everyone wore black, and the streets were practically silent. Although you had never met the King, you knew of his importance to the people. No, the country wasn’t thriving - but the people still loved their King. Seeing everyone in mourning, feeling their pain, made it difficult for you to understand how to approach the situation.

The worst part of all was seeing Joshua cry. He was sealed away in his office, which is why it was the first room in the castle you visited. Opening the door, you heard quick shuffling and sniffling. You saw Joshua wipe away his tears with a paper towel before turning to you.

“Shua…”

“Please, don’t pity me.” Joshua sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll be fine. Everything’s fine.”

“How can everything be fine, Joshua? Your father-”

“Everything has to be fine,” he snapped, “I have things I need to do, Y/N. Please leave.”

“But you’re in mourning!” you said as if stating the obvious, “You have to spend time with yourself and loved ones to get over this-”

“Leave, Y/N. I don’t have time for this.”

This was not the Joshua you had just spent an entire week with, nor was it the Joshua you had met when you first got here. In a matter of days he had built up a wall around himself, and you didn’t know how to connect with him. You left the room without a fight - you didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was like this. However, seeing who Joshua could be when it was just the two of you, made you want to try to help.

For the next few days, you didn’t see Joshua. He was working, eating, and sleeping in his office. Every day was spent with worry and sorrow settling deep in your bones. Worry for your husband’s well-being and health. Sorrow for his loss, which was in turn your loss. You never spoke with the late King, but you had only heard good things of him. Seeing the grief of not only your husband but the people of Ceadrotia as well was enough to understand what a loss it had been. However, this didn’t mean that Joshua had to put his health at risk. As his wife, you felt that it was your duty to take care of him - even with his many servants and maids. Only you could take care of his mind.

Seeing the Prince in the dining room was an unusual sight. He was disheveled - his hanging eyelids and puffy eyes were evidence of his lack of sleep, and his unkempt clothing proved that he had stopped caring about his appearance. He sat down in front of you, on the other end of the table, but refused to look at you. Instead, he stared at his empty plate, not even bothering to put breakfast on it.

“Joshua…”

He looked up and met your eyes.

“I’m tired.”

You stood up from your chair and walked around to be by his side. Kneeling down by his chair, you looked up at him. His eyes were teary and lacking in luster. Although you were unsure if he would let you touch him, you reached up your hands to cup his face. To your surprise, he gladly leaned into your palms.

“I know, my dear,” you hummed. “You know that I can help. All you have to do is ask.”

“... will you help me, my love?” Joshua put his hand on top of yours.

“Always.”

While Joshua rested and spent time with his mother, you went on to plan for the funeral. With his guidelines, it was impossible to not do what Joshua had planned all along. The grand hall was prepared with flowers and the magnificent things that the King loved dearly. But it was to be kept simple and elegant. As you planned the funeral, you also began setting up for the coronation. The throne room was prepared for your introduction to the Ceadrotian family, and Joshua’s introduction to his new role.

The funeral went on as it ought to, but even with its success it brought you no satisfaction. It was to be expected, but the layer of despair hanging over all of you laid especially heavy on your shoulders. After the funeral, you went to your room with Joshua. He said that he needed to lay down and rest, and you could only follow. When you watched him sit down on the bed, watched as his entire frame shrank in defeat, you wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But comfort like this could not be spoken with words, it had to be spoken directly from the heart. You sat down next to him, placing a kiss on his cheek and putting a hand on his back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that right now,” Joshua murmured.

“Do what?”

Joshua looked up with you, his eyes speaking for him.

“No, of course not, darling. I don’t want that either.” You took his hand in yours. “Not everything that I do with you is about sex, you know?”

“... now I feel foolish.” Joshua put his head in the crook of your neck in an attempt to hide his reddened face.

“Don’t,” you warned. “I don’t blame you. It’s all we’ve known, but I don’t want it to be like that in the future.”

“I haven’t even thought about our future…” He put his head in his hands, removing himself from you completely. “I feel like I have already managed to fail as a husband… I knew my father was ill, I knew it all this time. And it still managed to shake me to my core. I crumbled so easily under pressure, I completely forgot about… well, everything else.”

You stood up and walked over to the head of the bed and pushed the sheets aside. It got Joshua’s attention.

“I haven’t changed.”

“Just take off your overcoat and shoes. You need to lay down.”

Without question, Joshua did as you said. Once he had gotten in bed, you got in next to him. The two of you were facing each other, and you did your best to smile when he couldn’t.

“Now what?” Joshua asked.

“Well… do you want me to tell you of my plans?” you asked, and Joshua nodded. “Okay, let’s see… I’ve pictured us a lot in Xaevia. Going on visits, especially to the countryside. I know you’d adore it and… well, the children would as well.”

“Children? Are you-”

“No, no… not yet.” You grinned. “But our potential children would love it. And then I’ve also spent some time thinking about our life here. About you and I spending our evenings here together, about me beating you at chess every now and then.”

“You haven’t beaten me that many times.”

“Enough times,” you said sternly. “We would, of course, take care of the horses together.”

“I miss that,” Joshua hummed.

“Then we can go for a morning ride tomorrow.”

“Good.” Joshua cupped your cheek in his palm. “Thank you, my love. You’ve successfully cheered me up.”

“I’m glad.”

“Would you mind telling me more about our children?” he asked.

You let out a small laugh before you began telling him about your future plans.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽YEARS LATER☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Joshua? Could you come here, darling?”

Giggles and eager footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the castle of Ceadrotia, just on the other side of the bedroom door. Joshua took his attention away from putting on clothes to look at you. He had just gotten back from a bath, his hair wet and slicked back. A smile played on his lips as he walked up to the side of the bed.

“Good morning, my love.” He leaned down next to you, his wet hair dripping over the sheets.

“I don’t know about good morning, since you let me wake up alone.” You held his face in your hands. “But I think you should know that there are a few people who are very eager to see you just outside the door. They told me you need to hurry, they’re very impatient little creatures.”

“Ah well, if they’re so very impatient.”

With long strides, Joshua walked up to the door. The giggles persisted - grew louder, even. Joshua opened the door in a haste. Roaring shrieks sounded across the room, followed by loud laughter. Your husband kneeled down and caught the children in his arms.

“You’re all awfully carefree today,” Joshua said as he gave the two children a morning kiss on each of their foreheads. “And how did you come up with this ambush?”

“Mother helped us plan it!” Your oldest daughter grinned proudly.

“Your mother helped, huh?” Joshua looked back at you. “Always the mastermind behind these schemes.”

You smiled from your place in the bed, waiting for them to attack you as well. As you expected, the two children ran to you as soon as their father let them go. Joshua closed the door behind him, following the kids to your bed. They climbed up and laid down next to you, your son having a bit of trouble getting up.

“I feel bad that our sister can’t join,” your son said.

“She can’t walk yet,” Joshua answered, “But we can go see her in the nursery right after this.”

“Only if she’s awake,” you warned.

“Of course, my love,” Joshua said with a smile. “We don’t want to wake our sleeping beauty.”

“Don’t try to smooth over you leaving me to my lonesome this morning.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He tried to charm you with another loving smile, but you turned to your children instead.

You could feel his eyes on you, as you intently listened to your children ramble on. They always said just what they were thinking, and it was adorable to witness. But even with this sight, you could not ignore your husband for very long. Sometimes it seemed like your husband needed even more attention than your children. At some point, the nanny came into the room and took away the children - finally letting your husband have all of your attention.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes, so what is it?” You shuffled closer to him.

“Am I not to stare at my beautiful wife?” He huffed. “All I want to do is stare at you.”

You let out a short laugh and tried to get up but you were stopped by Joshua, who held your wrist to keep you in bed.

“Stay. We have nothing planned for the day.”

“But the children-”

“Can wait,” he finished your sentence. “Let’s just have a moment to ourselves.”

Joshua leaned up to you, and you met his lips halfway. It was a short kiss, but tender. It left space for the possibility of something more, it lingered in the room.

“Did you mark the calendar for when my bedrest after the baby would end?” you quipped with a quirk of your brow.

“So you are off bedrest?”

“As of two days ago.”

He leaned in for another kiss, this time more passionate, and took the opportunity to crawl on top of you.

“May I?” Joshua played with the neckline of your dress. “I’ll be gentle with you, my Queen.”

“I can’t say the same for me, my King.” You grinned, pouncing on the man on top of you.

#svthub #seventeen #kvanity #svt #kpop fanfiction #svt fluff #joshua seventeen #joshua imagines #joshua x reader #joshua hong #bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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