#it was more of what would have happened if he hadn't opened the door

[f1fantasys]

lando norris versace with 1 and 8 🙏🏻

I'M SO SORRY I haven't been posting much. Your girl has been busy BUT I'm backkk. Hopefully with a bang. Hope you enjoy this one!

Versace - exes hooking up1 - rough and filthy8 - in the shower

The breakup hadn't been messy at all. It was a mutual decision since you both had demanding jobs, and staying together would ruin whatever good was left of your relationship.

You were a mess initially, though you didn't let anyone see that side of you. You loved Lando so much and to suddenly not have him there whether it was physically or over a phone was one of the toughest things you'd been through. And what hurt more was how quickly he seemed to move on. A new girl on his arm every weekend in different countries.

Yes you had tried to go on a few dates but no one came even close to Lando. You found yourself comparing every guy to him, and half the time you made up an excuse to leave early, run home and drown in your sorrows.

So here you were, 6 months later, getting ready to go to Jimmyz for Carmen's 25th birthday. You tried to get out of it, knowing there was a high possibility of Lando being there, but she assured you he wasn't in town.

Still, you heart was hammering in your chest, nervous for whatever reason. It had been a while since you'd got proper dressed up and made an effort. You opted for a tight, lace, black mini dress that left little to the imagination, your cleavage threatening to spill out a any minute.

It was already 10p. And while you were waiting for Carmen & George to pick you up, you got a text that stopped your heartbeat. His name, popped up on your screen, for the first time in a long time.

Lan

Hey..y/n. Uhh this is random, but George is having car trouble (yes, car trouble in Monaco, that's what he said, don't @ me pls ;)) so he's asked me to pick you up. Be there in 10?

You couldn't help but smile at his humor, it was always one of your favorite traits of him.

But still, were you ready to see him? No. Did you have a choice? No

Before you let yourself think too much, you texted back.

Y/n

Car trouble for an f1 driver? lmao Sure, see you soon.

You gave yourself a few pep talks, hyping yourself up to be in close proximity, and alone, with your ex boyfriend whom you're still losing sleep over. Great start to the night, you thought.

Not 10 minutes later and there was a knock at your door. You gave yourself a once over in the long mirror by the front door, before unlocked it, pulling it open while holding your breath.

There he was, looking as handsome as ever. Dressed in a black shirt with the top buttons undone, backwards cap, slight stubble, piercing green eyes. You were swooning, your core clenching at nothing but just the sight of him.

You didn't miss how Lando's eyes shamelessly roamed your body, up and down, then back up again, licking his lips in the process. He stayed a few seconds too long on your cleavage before eventually clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back up to yours.

You both bore into each others' eyes, unable to tear your gazes away. You wanted to say something, but you were sure the words would get stuck in your throat.

All you managed to whisper was his name.

''Lando'' you said softly, biting your lip.

You didn't miss how Lando's jaw tightened and eyes darkened when his eyes caught sight of your plump lips between your teeth. And apparently that was enough to send him over the edge.

Before you could even respond, let alone comprehend what was happening, Lando had stepped forward, his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you backwards to the wall.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and suddenly your legs were like jelly.

He held onto your shoulders, while yours took a hold of his biceps. His face was mere inches away from yours, his breath mixing with yours as you both were gasping for air, before he leaned slightly more forward, forehead bumping yours, nose nudging yours, lips ghosting over yours.

As if you could read each others minds, his eyes searched yours. ''Can I?'' he asked, voice deep and husky.

You quickly nodded your head, desperate, ready for whatever it was he was about to do, before his lips crashed into yours as his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

You cupped his face as your tongues battled each other in the heated kiss, spit already starting to mess your chins as Lando gave your bottom lip a few bites.

You immediately tasted the iron caused to flow freely through your mouth, whimpering when Lando continued attacking your lip with his teeth.

By now he was groping your ass, feeling the heat of his large hands through the barely there fabric of your dress.

Your hands traveled up to his hair, pulling and tugging on his precious curls as he now let our a series of his own whimpers.

You broke the sloppy kiss, desperate for air as your chest was heaving, giving Lando the opportunity to drag is mouth down to your neck and adorn it with wet kisses, biting and nipping at the sweet spots he hadn't forgotten.

You held back your moans, not wanting to let out just how desperate you were, when suddenly Lando pulled his head back, green eyes hazy but full of lust.

''Let me hear you'' he whispered, before resuming his antic on your neck while his hands slid to the straps of your dress and pushed them off your shoulders.

He groaned when he was met with your bra-less state. Your perky boobs on fully display, nipples already hardening with the cool air of your apartment.

''Fuck'' you heard him coo, more to himself, as you leaned down to connect your lips to kiss again, while he all but ripped the rest of your dress of your body.

You broke the kiss in an instant. ''Lan!"' you shrieked, but he smirked back at you.

''Don't ''Lan'' me'' he said, eyes scanning your body, lingering at the sight of your glistening pussy, dripping, clenching around nothing.

You should have done the right thing and stopped things from going any further. But do you listen to your head or your heart? The latter won out.

You quickly fumbled with Lando's shirt buttons, ridding it off his body as your hands explored his taunt muscles and V-line, before settling on his belt.

''Not yet'' he mumbled, already leaning down to latch his mouth onto your left nipple, your hands wrapping around his head again, lewd moans leaving your mouth as he butchered both your nipples.

Your chest was heaving, mind unable to form any words, except for a few that were to beg him. ''Lan, please'' you managed, pulling at his curls to get his attention.

He locked lips with you once again in a gentle, tender kiss, unlike how the last few minutes unfolded, before he hoisted you up over his shoulder, making a beeline for your room.

Not expecting him to walk into your bathroom, you hissed when he set your ass down on the cool tiles. Lando stepped between your legs and once again, you both stared into each others' souls. He took his time and let his eyes linger on your plump lips, already bruised with the destruction he gave them, while your eyes studied the scar on his nose.

You couldn't help but reach out and let your finger waltz over it, giggling when you thought back to how he'd even gotten it in the first place.

Lando couldn't keep his chuckle in either, and even if it was just for 30 seconds, the whole world faded away and it was just the two of you in your little bubble again.

But things quickly heated up again when Lando bit his lip as you finally took a hold of his belt again, and using your feet you dragged his jeans down his legs, leaving him in only his boxers.

Both your breaths were staggered again, anticipation growing between the pair of you.

Just as you were about to rid him of his boxers, Lando firmly took a few steps back, before leaning forward on his hands, head now in tow with your cunt, as he spread your legs open and wasted no time in nuzzling his face through your folds.

His actions had you gasping of hair, hands latching onto his head again as he took a deep breath in, taking in your own scent of his favorite part of you.

Lando's tongue poked out of his mouth, licking a hot strip up your cunt which had your back arching, hips bucking into his face and it wasn't long until he was lapping at you, suckling and nibbling through your juices.

You let out a series of dirty moans, grunting whenever he bit down too hard on your clit before soothing it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it.

''Missed this so much, my dirty little pussy'' he said, breath increasing with each taste he got of you.

''Lan, fuck baby, so good. Feels so good'' you moaned, already feeling the warmth build up in your stomach.

Lando knew you were close, and to tip you over the edge he let two of his fingers slide through your hole, curling them at just the right time to hit your G-spot as you squeezed your eyes shut and bit down on your lips, surely drawing blood but what the man was doing to you was surely going to end you. It felt amazing.

''Let it out'' you heard him say, somewhere at the back of your mind, and when he bought one hand up to pull at your nipples, your orgasm ripped through you in waves, your body shuddering in his arms as you came all over his face.

He didn't slow his movements though. Lando knew how much you could take, and so he didn't pull away until you came again. He stood back up, lips and chin glistening with juices as your hooded eyes took him in before pulling him closer to taste yourself on his lips.

You moaned into the kiss. ''Hmm, Lan, please'' you begged as he finally started lowering his boxers, stepping back to step out of them.

You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his thick girth, bouncing around before standing tall and hard, angry.

Deciding you needed to taste him, you started sliding off the counter to sink onto your knees before Lando turned around and turned the shower on, leaving you staring with your mouth agape at his ass.

You didn't even realize you were staring until he cleared his throat with a smirk on his face. ''Éarth to y/n'' he said, taking your hands and helping you into the hot spray of the shower.

For a moment you both just stood there, holding each other. Your mind was racing, shocked at the quick turn of events, and as much as you wanted to continue, you had to take some time for your brain to catch up to what was happening.

You looked up and Lando, heart clenching at how beautiful he looked. The water soaking up his gorgeous curls which were now stuck to his forehead, the way it traveled down his perfectly contoured cheeks and jaw, and onto his thick neck that always made your legs quiver just by looking at it.

''Lando, I-''

''I know'' he said, cutting your sentence short, voice husky but weary.

You could feel tears start to prickle the corners of your eyes so you squeezed them shut.

''I know, baby'' he started again, tucking your hair behind your ear. ''But this feels so...right''

The nickname caught you off guard even thought it wasn't the first time he'd said it since he came.

''We can talk later. But for now..let me..yeah?'' he softly asked, hands already trailing over your back and ass.

Finally, you gave in, nodding your head. Because as much as you needed to talk, you also needed him in more ways that that.

That was all Lando needed to see before he pushed you flat against the wall, his hands cupping your face and kissing you hard and dirty again, sloppy, with an intent to ruin you.

And you weren't complaining. The second he had you sandwiched between him and the wall you felt his dick twitching against your stomach, so you quickly took him in your hands and started pumping him, all the while clenching your thighs together.

''Fuck me, please'' you begged as Lando's fingers found your core again, sliding them through your folds as you saw him smirk.

''What?'' you pressed.

He shook his head before chuckling. ''Just forgot how wet you are when you're needy'' he teased.

You gasped, ''I am not needy!'' you protested, though your face gave you away.

''Oh, so you're not wet for me? Not dripping for me?'' he asked, before plunging two fingers through your hole again, any words you were about to throw at him caught in your throat as you let out a lewd moan.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned down to take one of his nipples into your mouth. Lando hissed at your actions. ''Fuck me'' he said, speeding up his fingers that were thrusting through your cunt.

''You could feel another orgasm approaching quickly, and you were getting more and more desperate to feel his dick slide through you.

''Lando please, need y..need you in me, fuck'' you mumbled.

''Patience baby, just stretching you out for me, yeah?'' he asked, and your mind spiraled at the thought of how big his dick was.

At that you came all over his fingers, gritted teeth as you praised his name while Lando slowed his fingers before pulling them out of you.

He brought his hand up to your mouth and pushed them in, watching with hooded eyes as you sucked them clean of your juices, moaning at the taste of yourself.

His eyes softened for a split second, ''gonna let me fuck you baby?'' he asked, in that god damn husky voice that had your trembling with anticipation in his arms.

You were sure no words would come out of your mouth if you tried to talk, so you just nodded your head like a eager one you were.

He smiled at that as he pumped himself a few times, pre-cum already oozing out of his tip.

Lando lifted your one leg to wrap around his waist as he lined himself up at your entrance, his eyes searched yours for consent as you nodded again, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss as he slid into your cunt with a forceful thrust.

The both of you breaking your kiss to grunt at the feeling of him filling you up to perfectly as Lando stayed still for a few seconds to allow your core to accept the intrusion.

''Fuck me, please'' you panted as you gave hum the go-ahead.

Lando pulled out of you completely, hissing at the loss of contact before he slammed back into you. Then back out, and in again, setting a relentless pace.

He slumped his body forward on yours as he fucked in and out, hard and rough.

''Fucking hell y/n, so tight baby. Clea-clearly didn't fuck you enough when we were together'' he said.

That was a lie, you both knew it.

The water was starting to turn cooler, but neither of you gave a fuck.

You could feel your walls start to clench painfully around his dick, pornographic moans leaving your mouth as Lando was getting all the right spots inside of you, showing you no mercy.

You lost it when his hand reached up and wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing it. His action had your orgasm taking over your body, shaking in his arms as your liquid coated his dick in a milky white cover.

Lando looked down to see exactly that, and he groaned at the sight, edging closer to his own orgasm as he picked up his pace even more so.

''Fuck, Lando. So good. Baby you're so big. God'' you moaned as you bit down on his shoulder.

Your legs were full on jelly now, so he hoisted you up, wrapping both your legs around his torso, continuing to pound into you.

''M' close Lan'' you said, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at how quickly your orgasms were washing over your body.

''Let it out babygirl'' he cooed, latching his lips to yours.

You could feel his cock start to twitch inside you, Lando seconds away from exploding as he bought his one hand down to toy at your clit, sending you into an array of filthy moans once again.

''Oh..I- fuck, baby'' you mumbled, before you were cumming again, violently so, all over Lando again.

'''Fucking hell. Where do you want it?'' he asked.

''In me, please. Cum inside of me Lan'' you said quickly, too quickly for your liking.

And within seconds Lando was emptying his load deep inside your cunt. His warm juices filling you up as he gently placed you back down and pulled out of you.

You both stood there, eyes hooded and chests heaving at what you'd just done. Lando turned the now cold water off, leaning his hands on the wall behind you for support as you were still latched to his shoulders.

You looked down and saw a milky white streak making it's way out of your cunt and down you thigh. And when Lando followed your eyes to see what you were looked at, he was quick to collect the sticky liquid off your thigh and plunge his fingers inside your cunt with no warning.

''Fuck Lan!'' you almost jumped at the unexpected thrust, cunt already sensitive.

He smirked up at you. ''You said 'in you', yeah?''

You brain short circuited, clenching your thighs together.

Lando helped you out the shower and dried both of your naked bodies off before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to your bedroom, plopping you down on the bed.

The air should have been charged with awkwardness, but it was anything but that. Your brain, still fucked out, quickly came back down to earth and you gasped.

''Carmen, birthday, club?'' you said, looking at your phone which was flooded with calls and messages. One stood out.

Carmen

Well, since neither you or Lando are answering, I'm taking this as two exes fucking. Enjoy...and you owe me ;)

Lando giggled as he looked over your shoulder, and suddenly it dawned on you that were both still naked.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Lando's member, still hard as fuck. And suddenly were 'weren't sore anymore'.

Lando must have caught on to what you were gawking at, and so he came to stand right in front of where you were sitting on the bed - cock in line with your eyes.

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn't bare to look up at him, knowing he was smirking down at you.

You watched as his dick sprang around with his movements, Lando gently collecting your hair out of your face and holding it in make shift ponytail.

Finally, reaching forward, Lando bucking into your hand as you spread the few beads of pre cum around his tip.

''Fuck me'' he whispered, watching intently as you leaned forward and let your tongue run the length of his shaft, spending more time than needed suckling on the vein bulging out, before you took his tip in, sucking at it harshly.

''That mouth of yours'' you heard him mumble as you squeezed your legs closer together.

He'd had enough of your teasing though, so Lando held the back of your neck with one hand as his other guided his dick through your lips and as far deep into your mouth as he could.

You gagged instantly, hands flying to hold onto his thighs as he fucked himself in and out of your mouth, letting out a series of moans and grunts, praising your name.

''Ug, fuck, y/n, that's it baby, taking me so good. Gonna be my slut again, yeah?'' he asked as you moaned around him.

It wasn't long until you felt him start to twitch, his movements getting sloppier and grunts getting louder.

''Not gonna last y.n, where?'' he asked.

He should have known though. You took a long of his balls now, pulling and tugging at them as you pumped the part of his cock that couldn't fit into your mouth, and in no time you felt the warm splutter of his thick cum shoot down throat.

''Fucking hell baby'' he mumbled as he pulled out, leaning down to kiss you in a messy make out session that had your spit and his cum messing both your faces.

''Need to fuck you again. But just give me a few minutes yeah?'' he asked, already pumping himself to get hard again.

Not 10 minutes later, and Lando was hovering above you, pushing his dick through your cunt again, making you cum twice before emptying his load into you.

After cleaning you both up, your lazy state pulled Lando into bed and cuddled him. You could talk in the morning, or so you thought.

Because you woke up the next day with his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at your pussy as you grabbed his hair and pulled at it, vulgar moans leaving your lips.

He looked up at you when you stirred awake, before hovering over you, letting all his weight fall on your body as he kissed you, tongue pushing into your mouth while his hands settled on your boobs.

After a lazy make out session, he finally pulled back. ''Ride me?'' he asked, eyes dark.

You scoffed but smiled at him. ''I know you just want to see my boobs bounce around'' you said, already pushing him off you so you could straddle his body.

''Guilty'' he smirked, hands already tugging at your nipples.

You reached behind your ass to take Lando's hard girth, pumping him a few times before lifting yourself slightly to slide him in.

You both groaned at the feeling, fitting together perfectly as you stayed sitting on him for a few moments.

Lando kept his eyes on yours, holding a familiar sense of security and trust, but you quickly pushed that thought to the back of your mind because you still had to talk.

Instead you focused on your task. You steadied your hands on his shoulders and started to move, up and down, quickly setting a hard and rough pace, fucking yourself on his pole as you watched him, mouth agape, his eyes trained on your boobs that were literally bouncing with each thrust of yours.

''Oh..my fuck. Missed this fucking view'' he mumbled, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips as you rode him like your life depended on it.

''Lan'' you grunted, already feeling your orgasm approaching.

''That's it babygirl, doing so well for me. Riding me like the fucking pro that you are'' he said, bringing his hand down to toy at your clit.

''Lan you feel so good, so big, fuck, fill me up, please'' you begged.

''Gonna fill you up for the rest of my life, baby'' he whispered over the sounds of your moaning.

You looked at him and allowed yourself to imagine a future of waking up like this everyday, tears threatening to run down your face as he cupped you.

''I'm serious. Not letting you go. I still love you so much y/n'' he said, and with that your tears spilled over, and so did your cum, oozing out of you and coating his dick.

''I love you too Lan'' you said leaning down to give him a sloppy kiss as you picked up your pace again, desperate to make him cum.

''Fuck, nearly there'' he said. The air charged with an anticipation of what was to come as you both beamed at each other.

You purposely clenched your walls around him, and within seconds Lando was shooting thick loads of cum through your pussy, praising your name.

Normally you'd have ridden him through it, but this time you wasting no time in climbing off him and taking his cum coated dick into your mouth, moaning at the taste of both your juices mixed.

''Fucking hell, y/n''

….and that was how the rest of your lives started 🩷

[altxrrmelancholy]

Mediate

Tags: Bf!Yunho, reader and Seonghwa have an argument, spanking, threesome kinda, oral(f receiving), Yunho... mediating.?

Banner can be found here..

Of course, Yunho wasn't taking this all that seriously, but he had had enough of you and his best friend arguing all the time that he had to do something. He wasn't even sure why you two didn't like each other, and he was fine with it. That was until the fight almost turned physical with you almost slapping Seonghwa and him pulling on your hair. Your shrill scream is what eventually got him out of his bed as he had previously decided to ignore your raised voices.

And even as he has both of you seated on his bed, with him in front of you with his arms crossed, even if you could see the obvious unimpressed look on his face, the two of you were still arguing over each other on his bed.

"-wouldn't even be arguing with you if you just weren't here all the time-"

"My presence always bothers you, why shouldn't I care what you think-"

"Your presence bothers me?! I couldn't care less about you-"

"You know you think you're better than everyone that you can say anything you want-"

"I in fact think that I am better than everyone-"

"Why don't you leave anytime I come over, Mr. I can't stand being in the presence of other people because I'm a deity-"

"Why are YOU always here-"

"If you two don't shut the hell up, the both of you are gonna end up outside. I'm not joking."

The two of you looked at Yunho. You didn't even have the guts to say anything because unlike both of your voices, Yunho's was frighteningly low and deep. Yunho turned around and locked the door while the two of you just kept staring at him, waiting to see what he would do. You looked up at him and decided to be the bigger person, mostly because you wanted to one-up Seonghwa.

"Yuyu, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

You gasped at your boyfriend as you heard Seonghwa snicker at you from beside you.

"Stand up." He suddenly commanded. Yunho never talked to you like this, but you felt the need to at least listen to him since you angered him. As you took your time standing up, Yunho got a chair from his desk and dragged it across the room, right in front of Seonghwa. He jumped a little as he watched Yunho sit a meter in front of him, his narrowed eyes on him.

He then looked at you and motioned for you to come towards him. You hesitated. "Yunho?"

"Lie down." But he was gesturing to his lap. You looked at Seonghwa and he was staring at Yunho in confusion too. "Don't make me drag you, y/n."

He felt his patience thinning and suddenly stood. You widened your eyes as you saw him approach you.

"W-wait, Yunho- aaah!" And you were in the air. He sat on the chair and adjusted you such that you were laid across him, your ass in the air. The skirt you were wearing slid up and you were aware of the air hitting your thighs. "Yunho-"

Smack! You couldn't even register what happened. All you felt was a sharp pain on your ass. And then another and another. Your boyfriend was spanking you, right in front of Seonghwa.

He had never done this, even when you were alone.

You didn't know what to say.

Seonghwa meanwhile was flabbergasted, for lack of a better word. His mouth hung open as he stared at the red forming on your thighs. A scream left your mouth every time you were spanked. Seonghwa didn't know how to feel.

"Yunho? Look, I g-get it. I'm sorry-"

"Shut up, Hwa."

Oh boy.

.

.

The more Seonghwa moaned, the more you could feel yourself getting wetter. You were pretty much still on Yunho's lap, but you were leaning on his chest while the other male worked on eating you out on his knees. He hadn't even hesitated when your boyfriend told him to get on his knees. He pretty much lunged at you when he was given the green light.

You could feel the vibrations from his moans through your entire body as he dragged his tongue from your slit all the way to your clit, sucking it in his mouth between his teeth. He pushed his face closer to you, his nails buried on your thighs leaving indents on them. Your head was thrown back on to Yunho's shoulder with a whine. Your boyfriend himself was busy fondling your nipples with his long fingers. He released a groan right by your ear.

"You two don't wanna say anything to each other?" Seonghwa turned red and pushed his face even further into you drawing out a long moan from you. He sped up, sucking even harder. You pulled on his long hair and trapped his head between your thighs as you climaxed, a soft whine accompanied by your orgasm. Yunho grabbed your face and began to kiss you as you like after cumming. Your ass had been moving over Yunho's hard cock and he had been aching for you ever since he heard you moan.

Seonghwa was still red, panting softly all while lying across your thigh with his eyes closed as he heard you and your boyfriend make out. How was he supposed to navigate this situation.

"Are you okay, sexy?" Yunho murmured on your lips. All you could do was nod as you didn't know what would come out if you spoke.

"You two thought you would argue with each other with no consequences, since you thought you were grown, huh?" His voice was low and deep and you felt yourself getting turned on again.

"Hwa?" Seonghwa absentmindedly humed.

"Get on the bed." And his eyes snapped open. Your eyes were still closed as you didn't want to look him in the eye. How were you supposed to talk to him now?

Seonghwa shakily got on the bed and sat upright. Yunho smirked as he saw that he was also hard. He stood and slowly carried you over to Seonghwa, his hands on your thighs that were still wide open. He couldn't help but stare at your wrecked form thinking, he did that. He had just made you cum.

Shit. He just made his best friend's girlfriend cum.

Yunho put you on top of him, face to face. You both could barely even hold eye contact and you faced away from him, Seonghwa turning red as he could feel your bare self sit on his hard on

Yunho began taking Seonghwa's pants off and you could feel him panicking. His breathing suddenly sped up. "Y-yunho, come on man."

"I can't keep telling you to shut up,Hwa. Besides the girl you were arguing with is right on top of you. Might as well get on with it."

He succeeded in getting off his pants and underwear, revealing his dick. They never really saw each other naked, and Seonghwa was getting so flustered that he thought he could explode. He also couldn't reach and stop him from taking off his pants because he would have to get you off of him, and he didn't want you to get off him to make Yunho mad.

You were suddenly pushed to Seonghwa's chest and he was quick to shift his hands to your waist as he fell back to the bed. You felt Yunho's dick at your entrance and you started panicking.

"Yunho-"

"I didn't say you could talk to me, sweetheart."

And you felt him enter you.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ platonic, gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

・Boyd already had a son, but Ellis was too angry at him. He barely had anything to do with his father, the Sheriff, no matter how hard Fatima pushed Ellis

・You had entered Fromville by yourself; it was supposed to be your first adventure by yourself and now you were trapped in HELL.

・For the first few days, you were a tiny bit catatonic; anxiety, along with the whole "What could go wrong!" from your family was really messing with your head

・Fatima was the person who showed you a lot of kindness, patience and ways of looking at the town.

・But you came here by yourself, no link to anyone and you felt like 1. an outsider and 2. like the people wouldn't care if anything happened to you

・That was until you were too late getting back to your home in town, the monsters had already pulled up and were doing their creepy business.

・Boyd threw himself straight into action, flinging open the Sheriff Station/Post Office door and grabbing your arm.

"What are you doing out here?! It's DARK!"

"No, I no, I no-"

"So you were trying to get yourself kILLED?!"

"No! I just got carried away at the edge of the forest-"

"The EDGE of the WHAT NOW!"

"No Sheriff, it's okay. It's not like I have any ties here and the probability of me surviving is very low... so..."

・It was in that moment that Boyd decided to unconsiously adopt you.

・He would never let you feel alone again.

・Everyone was going to know you, know your importance.

・Whenever you give your opinion during matters (because you are now in the inner circle - you know more than the regular citizens),

Boyd always holds up a hand before you can talk, "No. You are not putting yourself as bait. Not again."

・Kenny likes you a lot, romantically? Maybe. He's still mixed up about the whole Kristi and Marielle thing.

・Then again, it's not like anyone was going to approach the Sheriff's kid with a romantic offer. Boyd is deeply protective of you.

・Both Jade and Randall have their eyes on you.

・They think you're very unique, smart but also have a boldness that this town had brought out in you.

・Plus you never let either of their quips go without an insult straight back at them

・Ellis, who hadn't been in town for a while, was surprised. A little hurt, but c'mon - deep down he knew he could never be replaced.

・Boyd always makes sure that you're okay, especially when it's just you two at the station. There's one bedroom/cell type place.

・So Boyd made another area just for you, where you had your own bed, a sheet to pull over for privacy and room for all your little trinkets.

・Sometimes he prefers you to sleep in the cell, especially when there's been an incident with the Monsters.

・To get him to open up, you made him play truth or dare once and it was the most fun he's ever had in a while.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Two damaged individuals who attach themselves to each other

"Come Near Them And I Will Fucking End You" (Boyd) x "You Heard The Old Timer!" (You, with the constant old person joke)

You bring him things you find interesting like bugs, rocks, things Mrs Chen let you go look for in the lost and found...

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Found Family

Trustworthy Male Mentor

Father Figure Who Doesn't Realise He's Basically Raising You Until You Call Him Dad

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Beautiful Boy by John Lennon (this doesn't negate from anyone's representation as a woman or non-binary. it's just a beautiful song)

Me and the Devil by Soap and Skin (the original fits here perfectly too)

A Narnian Lullaby by Harry Gregson Williams

[dark-elf-writes]

Honestly I am just insanely cusius about the fall out of Bakugou in two heroes and I need to know what happens next please. A drabble of that would be beautiful. I just finished my rereading it lol

Masaru Bakugou wasn’t stupid.

He knew that he had dropped the ball raising his son. Knew that his choice to be the voice of reason between the two hotheads that were Katsuki and his wife had not been enough to mitigate the damage that had already been done both in their home and outside it. Knew that, when it came down to it, he had failed not only Katsuki but Izuku as well.

(He remembered innocent green eyes looking up at him through a sheen of tears. “Why are they so mean, Uncle Saru?”

He hadn’t had an answer then, before it was his son causing that pain. He didn’t have one now either.)

The chime of the doorbell almost went unnoticed in the cacophony of the house. Katsuki and Mitsuki had been screaming at each other since they had left the police station. Masaru was certain the only reason that their car, any furniture too large to throw, and most of the house was intact at all was the quirk suppressing cuff clamped around Katsuki’s ankle. The same cuff that would remain there until Katsuki’s trial.

Pushing that thought away, Masaru walked through the swath of destruction his family left in their wake and opened the front door.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see the mismatched trio of pro heroes on the other side of the door, but he still felt his stomach sink when he saw the rage in their eyes.

(Rage he understood. Rage he could feel in the pit of his own gut. Rage for a child that had almost died only hours ago at the hands of his son.)

“Bakugou-san. We would like to speak to you and your family about what is to be expected moving forward.” The principal of UA said with deceptive calm. Masaru didn’t fall for it. Not when the rage in the mammal’s eyes burned brighter than the explosions that had nearly cost him a student on live television.

Something shattered deeper in the house. Masaru’s eye twitched.

“Please, come in. Don’t bother removing your shoes.” Knowing Katsuki and Mitsuki, there could be broken glass anywhere at this point. "I would offer tea, but I'm sure you are all very busy." And he wasn't certain that any of their drink ware had survived the war going on behind him.

They didn't give any of the polite deferring that was expected of guests. Masaru couldn't blame them. He was clinging to years if ingrained manners with little more than his fingernails, and with each shout and crash from behind him his grip wavered. If anything the woman, Midnight, if Masaru remembered correctly from the packets that had been sent out when Katsuki had been accepted to UA, seemed to be trembling with barely contained rage.

She had been there, he suddenly remembered. She had been the closest to the field. It was her hands that had caught Izuku when both children had been knocked unconscious, leaving Katsuki to hit the dirt on his own.

(He was a terrible father, he knew. What else could it mean when he was grateful she hadn't caught his son.)

"We should speak to all three of you at once," Nezu's voice was soft compared to the carnage in the house, but it rattled Masaru all the more. He would have preferred him to scream. To roar at him like his own thoughts did for being so blind.

Masaru nodded, leading the three of them to the living room swerving around broken glass and shattered pieces of the life that had once filled their home.

Katsuki and Mitsuki were facing off around the couch. Both of them red faced as they screamed curses at each other. Masaru had grown so used to the noise he hadn't even noticed when he had led the heroes in. Neither of them so much as looked in their direction, so lost in their fury.

Something sparked in his chest. White hot and with all the force of one of Katsuki's explosions.

"Enough!" He roared it at them, cutting through their shouts with a single word.

(He had never raised his voice to either of them. Never in all the time Katsuki had been alive. Never since he met Mitsuki in high school. Both of them looked at him with slack expressions, struck dumb in their shock.)

"Enough," He repeated at a normal volume but the iron in his voice made them both blink. "Both of you, just, enough."

It struck him then that he couldn't offer Katsuki's teachers a place to sit. Even with the couch still mostly in tact, the glass from every picture once the walls and the small fiddly blown glass figures Masaru had so adored was scattered over every inch of their living room. Like a bomb had gone off in their home.

(Like they had raised the bomb that would destroy them.)

None of the heroes seemed like they were much inclined to sit anyway. Midnight dropped back to lean against the farthest wall from Katsuki while Aizawa, with Nezu on his shoulder, stood in the center of the room where the mammal could keep his dark eyes on all three of them at once.

"We have come to inform you that Bakugou Katsuki has been formally expelled from UA as the result of an assault on one of his fellow students," Nezu kept his voice soft, so terribly soft.

Katsuki, however, did not. "The fuck do you mean expelled you fucking rat! Deku fucking—!"

"Katsuki!" Masaru's voice cut through the argument as well as any explosion. "I said enough. You will listen to your… to the heroes, and you will do so silently." It was probably the shock that made Katsuki listen more than any respect for Masaru as his father. Masaru didn't much care as long as he was quiet.

From all Nezu reacted, it was like neither of them had spoken at all. "He will be expelled with a black mark on his record and a personal note from myself attached listing my… concerns should he be accepted into another heroics program. We take the safety of our students seriously at UA, and we know that all of our fellow schools across the world feel much the same."

It was as good as the death of the dream Katsuki had held since he was a toddler. A black mark from UA. A personal condemnation from Nezu. There was not a single hero school in all of Japan that would stand against that. Not a single one in the world if Masaru were to make a guess.

Not that he would have tried to look.

Masaru bowed, a perfect ninety degrees, and kept his voice on the shattered glass under his feet when he spoke, "Thank you for taking the time to inform us. With consideration to what happened, I had already decided to pull Katsuki out of UA, and was already looking for an online program unrelated to heroics that would take him in spite of his… rather televised faults." If he wasn't convicted of attempted murder, Masaru couldn't help but think as he caught sight of the quirk suppressing cuff around his son's ankle from his position.

"What?" It spoke to just how stunned Katsuki was that the word had come out as a strangled whisper rather than a roar.

Masaru straightened, not daring to look at his son when he spoke. Instead his eyes caught on a patch of wall brighter than the rest where a picture had once resided.

(Izuku's smiling face had once looked back from that picture, where they were clinging to their mother's arm. Katsuki and Mitsuki had both also been smiling for once. A rare moment of peace caught on camera now crumpled and shattered on their floor.

He wondered what it said about all of them. Surely nothing good.)

"I have been too lenient toward the problems in your behavior for too long, which resulted in another child being hurt. I refuse to make that mistake again. It is my greatest shame that it took me this long to see."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Midnight's head dip in a nod. Confirmation and damnation in the movement. Her hands might have been the ones stained with Izuku's blood, but the ghost of that blood rested on Masaru's soul. He should have known, should have seen the warning signs, but he had not. Now he had to live with that failure for the rest of his life.

(It would be so easy not to. To run as far as he could. To leave nothing but signed divorce papers and a broken home full of rage and guilt behind him.

But Masaru had taken the easy route too much already, and he, frankly, didn't trust Mitsuki to keep Katsuki under control.)

He nodded back at Midnight, a message received and understood. "I apologize for the harm that Katsuki has done."

It wasn't enough, and he knew it.

It would never be enough.

Masaru had to say it all the same.

None of the heroes accepted the apology. None of them would lessen his guilt. None of them so much as bowed before showing themselves out of his home. Masaru was grateful for it, was grateful for the stunned silence that they left in their wake even more so.

[to-the-stars8]

Vigilant Coffee

Batfamily x Reader Chapters AO3

Christmas Eve

You could hardly stand the sound of Christmas music anymore. From the moment Halloween stopped, Christmas began. The trees went up, the holiday cups came out, and you were forced to wear a stupid Santa hat with fake elf ears. Most of the bats were kind enough not to laugh in your face for it, the others, especially Robin and Spoiler, weren’t as much. 

Working the night shift on Christmas Eve had turned out better than you expected. It was so dead that a customer hadn't come in since you arrived. So, you had spent the entirety of the shift kicked back on one of the comfortable chairs in the dining area. You were watching an Instagram reel Red Hood had sent when you heard the bell on the door chime. You looked up, half expecting Batman, but it wasn’t. It was just some random guy. 

“Oh, hello,” You said, getting up. After washing your hands, you asked, “What can I get you?”

The guy stared at the menu before looking back at you. Oh no. This guy was going to rob you. You could just tell by the way he looked at you. It just read, you know what’s about to happen, right? You were so astounded that someone would have the gall to rob the one coffee shop Batman frequented especially on Christmas. 

“On Christmas, asshole?” You said aloud.

“Calm down, it’s Christmas Eve,” He said as he pulled out a gun. 

You mocked him, “It’s Christmas Eve. Ooo.” Still, you worked on opening the register. The guys that waved a gun around in your face didn’t care for your cheek, and only really threatened you when the money wasn’t leaving the register fast enough. Or, when you tried calling the cops. 

“Here’s a twenty, buy yourself something nice, huh?” The guy said as he threw the cash down. 

“Yeah, yeah, go get bent,” You said as you took it. 

“Jimmy,” Another voice said. “What did we talk about?” 

The two of you looked to see Batman standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. He sighed before holding out his hand expectantly. Jimmy ran his tongue over his teeth, looking reluctant to hand the money over before he did in a quick, swift motion. Batman then handed it over to you. 

“What’re you thinking?” Batman said. Despite his rough, monotone voice, you could hear the disappointment. “You were doing so well.”

You stood there awkwardly. It felt like watching your friend get yelled at by their parents. The lecture that followed when Jimmy said that a place open in this part of Gotham was just asking to get robbed was brutal. Batman dressed Jimmy down until the young man was in near tears. 

“You wave a gun in this poor barista’s face on Christmas?” Batman said, beginning to raise his voice. 

Jimmy meekly corrected, “Actually, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“That’s not the point, James! You apologize, now, before I haul you down to Gordon. You won’t be put into juvie this time. They’ll haul you to Blackgate.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide, looking a bit more unsettled than before when Batman used his government name as he positioned himself to face you. You stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he made a long-winded apology to you. When he was done, you weren’t sure what to say, so you just meekly told him that it was okay. 

Batman stared at you, silently telling you to say more. Looking down at your feet, you said, “And, uh, thanks for the apology. Please don’t rob us again.”

“Okay,” The guy said quietly. 

“Go home,” Batman demanded. 

Jimmy practically ran out of the cafe, not after having his gun taken away, leaving you and Batman. The towering man turned toward you, and you felt like you were about to be lectured, but, instead, he only said, “A black coffee, please.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

We NEED more soft!Rafe after the new season. He moved out and got a whole house to himself maybe he could ask his girl to move in? Becasue he wants her there and to be part of his life...his new life where he's a better person

Request: SOFT RAFE PLSSS

I don't know when I found time to write this, but enjoy soft!Rafe asking his girlfriend to move in with him! Feel free to send more requests, I'll write when I find time

Warnings: soft!Rafe, relationship moving quickly, mention of Ward's death

—

‘’Rafe, I truly can’t see. I’m not cheating,'’ you promised as you walked with Rafe’s hands over your eyes.  

He had picked you up in late afternoon and refused to tell you where you were going. Just that he wanted to show you something...and that you had to close your eyes during the whole drive. 

Rafe laughed a bit, trusting you. ''Okay, okay.'' 

You walked a few more steps, then he stopped and removed his hands from your eyes, revealing a large two story house. 

A frown formed between your eyebrows. ‘’Who's house is this?''

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘’Mine,'' he whispered in your ear, giving you a gentle kiss on your jawline. ‘’As of this morning.'' 

Surprise filled your face. ‘’You bought a house?’’ 

Every time Rafe showed up to your place after a fight with his family — most often his father —, needing a bed to crash in for a few days, you tried talking to him about getting his own place. It would solve a lot of conflicts. But Rafe always said he wasn’t ready to leave the family nest. 

Behind you, Rafe hummed. ‘’I bought it with a part of my dad’s inheritance money. Sharing a house with Rose is not possible anymore. Too much has happened...’’ 

You covered his hands with yours in silent support. You’d heard the ugly stories about Rose and Rafe. He hadn’t always made the best decisions in the past, but Rose constantly blamed him for everything bad that happened to the family. Rafe may have deep personal issues, but it was wrong of her to villainize him.

‘’Do you want a tour?’’ he asked, his voice brimming with excitement, and the eagerness in his eyes made it impossible for you to refuse.

You followed Rafe up the steps to the porch of his new home. He fumbled briefly with the key before pushing the door open, but just as you were about to enter, he pulled you to a sudden stop.

“Wait,” he ordered, his strong arms wrapping around you as he effortlessly lifted you up.

You squeaked, startled by the sudden move. ‘’Rafe, we're not married, you know,’’ you said with a soft laugh, looping an arm behind his neck. ‘’You don't have to carry me over the threshold."

He set you down gently on the wooden floor of the entrance hall and shut the door behind him. 

Inside, the house felt big and empty, its openness accentuated by the sunlight streaming through the uncovered windows.

‘’I don’t know why, but I expected it to be fully furnished,’’ you admitted, glancing towards what you assumed was the living room. 

Rafe chuckled, his fingers lacing with yours as he guided you further in. ‘’Some people do buy them furnished, but this one wasn’t. You’ll have to help me pick out furniture because I suck at decorating.’’ 

The kitchen was massive and even had two ovens — a rich people thing. It was unfortunate Rafe didn’t cook. The backyard had a large patio where Rafe mentioned wanting to set a barbecue and a firepit, and maybe one of those large daybeds. He wanted his house to be cozy and feel like a home, not look straight out of a fucking magazine.

As he led you into the last room upstairs, the master bedroom, Rafe's voice grew soft. The words were burning on his tongue, but he didn’t know how to say them. 

‘’And here's our bedroom. I mean, the bedroom.’’ He made a mistake on purpose, just to see your reaction. 

You tried to hide the smile that spread across your lips, your heart beating fast in your chest. The slip of his tongue hadn't gone by unnoticed. Did he truly mean for you to live here with him? Was this why he took you to the house and insisted on making it a surprise? 

‘’There’s a big bathtub in the master bedroom, and—’’ Rafe continued, moving toward the bathroom to show you the bathtub, but you were not listening. 

Moving in with someone is a huge step in a relationship, not something you can decide on a whim. You and Rafe had only been together for a few months, so it felt a bit early to take that step. But then again, everything in your relationship had moved quickly from the start. He met your parents two weeks after your first kiss, and said ‘I love you’ after twenty-six days of dating — yes, you had counted them. 

When Rafe glanced back at you, he noticed you seemed deep in thought. ‘’Is everything okay?’’ he asked, an eyebrow raised in concern. 

You snapped out of your thoughts, shaking your head. ‘’Yeah, everything’s good,’’ you replied, smiling at him. ‘’I was just thinking of all the time it’ll take us to christen our house.’’ A mischievous grin curled on your lips as you walked toward him. ‘’Maybe we should start now. It’s a big house.’’ 

Rafe’s eyes flickered with surprise as he heard what you were implying. He expected you to refuse, to say it was too soon. 

‘’You’ll move in with me?’’ he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. 

You nodded, and a smile curled on Rafe's face. He's never been happier.

—

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[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ғᴀʟsᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 8.5k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | series masterlist

Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,

A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕

The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.

You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.

You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.

Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.

As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"

You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"

You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."

He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"

His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."

You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."

You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."

He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."

You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."

Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."

Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"

His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."

You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"

He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."

"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."

"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"

"Not Gaius."

"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."

"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.

"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.

Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."

The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.

"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."

"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."

You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."

"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."

You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.

Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"

You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."

Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."

He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."

You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.

The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.

"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.

"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.

You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.

She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.

You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."

Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"

You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."

She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."

Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.

As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.

Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.

You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.

But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"

You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.

Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.

The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.

You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.

As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.

Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.

When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"

A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."

The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."

The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.

Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.

"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."

You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."

Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."

You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."

Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.

"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.

Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."

You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.

The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.

You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.

You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.

As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.

When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.

The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.

The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.

You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.

As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.

You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."

You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."

The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."

A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"

He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.

"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."

You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."

Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."

Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"

You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."

His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."

A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.

As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."

You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."

He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.

As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.

"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."

You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.

"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"

The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"

"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"

You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."

"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."

Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."

"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.

"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."

"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.

You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.

As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."

His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."

You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"

A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"

Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.

Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.

You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."

His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."

With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."

He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."

The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.

"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."

Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"

You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.

Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.

His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."

You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.

"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.

You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.

"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.

"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.

"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.

He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.

"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"

You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.

"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"

You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.

A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.

He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."

You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.

His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."

You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.

His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."

Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.

He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."

The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.

His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.

As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.

As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."

You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"

He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."

You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."

You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."

His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."

You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."

You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.

"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."

You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.

Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.

"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."

You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."

You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.

For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.

"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."

PART 2

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[et6rnalsun]

accidentally walking in on bff!matt while he’s changing..

oh, you were so pissed off. so incredibly pissed off.

you couldn't believe how chris had the fucking audacity to throw away your lashes, despite you repeatedly telling him to be careful, and to keep them on their table until you came back to get them. your favorite pair, too.

it wasn't uncommon for you to stay at their house to sleep, and that you left pieces of your things around like an incomplete puzzle, which will probably remain so. but never, never in the fuckin history of your friendship, one of the three had lost or just thrown away something of yours. and when it happened to your beloved eyelashes, you knew for sure that you would have loved to commit a murder.

the wheels in your head were spinning non-stop in the evil creation of a plan against chris, all while you were walking briskly towards matt's room.

“i think it’s time for you to beat chris’s ass every fuckin’ day” you said with a huff escaping your glossy lips, opening his door — swinging it fully — without even glancing inside before doing so. only when you looked up you realized the fact that the boy was half naked in front of you. damn.

you stopped working for a few seconds too long, looking stupid in matt's eyes who was simply trying to change. your mouth wide open, a light shade of red dusting your cheeks as if a wave of freezing cold had passed through your soft skin like a caress, but in reality it was just the embarrassment of having caught your best friend in such a state.

his dark hair looked even thicker when wet, dripping from a shower you could tell he'd just taken. he was holding a t-shirt in his hands that he hadn't had time to put on, in fact, his chest was completely exposed to your eyes that betrayed your desire to just disappear from earth — traveling all over his body as if you were waiting for nothing else. his tattooed arm seemed even more beautiful in that context, and you found yourself sighing as you searched for something to say.

the gray sweatpants that were pulled down low enough to show the elastic of his calvin klein underwear, a v-line that you would love to touch with your tongue— "i'm sorry" you cleared your throat, fighting the urge to slap yourself.

his reaction surprised you, as he simply chuckled and finally put that shirt on. "what were you saying ‘bout chris?" matt quickly changed the subject, tilting his head as he looked at you intently. you shrugged in response, the urge to kill his brother suddenly gone. christ, you were too embarrassed to even breathe at that moment.

matt seemed to notice, and leaned in slightly as a smirk tugged at the corners of his pink lips. "don't tell me you're suddenly shy" he taunted, tortured you just for the fun of it. "you've only seen me shirtless, you haven't ended up in my sheets just yet" he added, making your eyes widen as your hand automatically moved to slap his chest. covered.

"shut up. you better shut up or chris won't be the only one to die today"

"i just have to undress and you'll change your mind—” another slap. in the face.

[drunk-person]

The Promises We Make

Pairing: King!Aemond Targaryen x lover!reader

Summary: She was supposed to be his. Not that filthy bastard. He knew her first. He loved her first. Only to they give her hand in marriage to Jacaerys Velaryon. But now the war is won, and as the new king Aemond can have whatever he wants, and he wants her. He wants to fulfill the promise he made to her outside the sept all those years ago.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, forced voyeurism, consensual exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex F and M receiving, anal sex (very little, but it's there), possessive sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, Aemond murdering more kin, bastardophobia, Jacaerysphobia, no description for reader.

Word cont: 4.800k

A/n: My little contribution to Halloween "very evil laugh here". To my Aemond wives: This is basically the dirtiest, slightly darkest thing I've ever written, I'm blushing as I post it. Let's go!

Before

The sept was full of people to watch Prince Jacaerys' wedding, he waited anxiously next to the septon for the bride's arrival while slightly moving his hands.

The door opened and Lady Y/n walked in, at the same moment everyone turned to look at her. Y/n smiled beautifully as she struggled to walk down the hallway, feeling her legs still wobbly and slightly damp.

Her eyes burned as they met Jacaerys' and her smile grew even wider. Her steps became more confident, and when she reached the end of the walk, she stopped in front of the septon, still with that smile on her face.

Jacaerys watched her, visibly confused. They had met about three moons ago and the wedding had been arranged. Until then, he hadn't thought she was so eager to get married, since she barely spoke to him usually. But there she was, eager to marry him.

Interlude

Things had never been so bad. His mother and brothers had perished, and from what he could tell Daemon had also found the stranger, only he was left, the last one to survive. Jacaerys did not know if this was a gift or a punishment.

He could have fled, gone to the free cities and been free now. But he was no coward, he was a Targaryen and would not back down. But courage did not help him much when his uncle's men captured him and brought him to the black cells of the red keep.

Aemond Targaryen. Not content with the title of kinslayer after murdering Luke, he sought even deeper immoralities.

He murdered one by one all the ratcatchers at Aegon's command while they begged for their lives. He killed Rhaenys and exposed the charred remains of the queen who never be, to the kingdom after her victory. He personally beheaded each of the remaining ones who swore fealty to Rhaenyra. He burned the riverlands until only ashes remained on the ground without caring if there were innocents there. He personally exterminated House Strong from end to end, sparing no nobles or bastards, women or children.

At the end of the war, when everything seemed lost, he guided his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, into a trap. From what little was known, Aemond Targaryen lured him to Harrenhall Castle, where, separated from Caraxes, he ambushed him in a dark corridor and before the Rogue Prince knew what was happening, he was dead.

And now with the death of Aegon, who had finally succumbed to his wounds and died shortly after murdering Rhaenyra. Aemond had lost his title of one-eyed prince and kinslayer in favor of a new one.

King Aemond Targaryen, the cruel.

Now

The cell was opened with a loud noise and Jacaerys turned to see two guards enter the cell and drag him out without further explanation. And he just followed them without question, but he began to frown when he noticed that he was being taken to the bedroom wing of the fortress.

-Where are you taking me? - He asked, but received no answer.

The guards took him to one of the rooms, tied him to a chair with a thick rope, and without saying a word to him, left him there alone.

A little while later, the door opened behind Jacaerys, who felt the back of his neck shiver. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and suddenly all sounds seemed to become quieter. There was no need to look back to know who had entered the room.

A low murmur left no doubt, Aemond had ordered him to be taken there.

-Enjoying your stay, my Lord Strong? - He asked in that cynical and cruel voice that made Jacaerys's blood boil in his veins.

-Velaryon. - He growled through his teeth, and Aemond just hummed as he gently curved his lips.

-No, it isn't. And we both know that. But now I don't need to pretend that you're nothing more than a bastard dressed as a prince walking around the court. - Aemond had a deadly voice as he spoke.

-What are you going to do? Murder me tied up like the coward that you are? Just like you did with Luke?

Aemond laughed as if Jacaerys was telling a joke.

-Please don't try to boost your own ego, we both also know that you wouldn't last even a breath in combat against me. - When he finished, Aemond was serious again.

-I'm not going to kill you, at least not yet. - His cruel voice sounded through the room.

-So what do you want from me? - Jacaerys glared at him angrily. - If you expect me to bend the knee, forget it, I will never do it.

-I don't need bastards to bend the knee to me, their false loyalty doesn't represent any value to me. I'm already the king. - He walked while mocking Jacaerys.

-But there are certain things that need to be put in their proper place. There are some promises I made that need to be kept because after all I am a man of my word.

Jacaerys did not understand a word of what Aemond was saying, and came to think that he had finally lost his mind. Until then there was a knock on the door and he said the words that changed everything.

-Come in, my dear.

The door opened and then closed behind him, soft footsteps sounded against the floor and to Jacaerys's horror when the person finally entered his field of vision he discovered that the one who had come through the door was Y/n, his Y/n. He clenched his fists, locking his jaw, trying to free himself from the chair. Aemond approached her and passed the back of his right hand gently across her face as she closed her eyes.

-Get away from her. - Jacaerys shouted in fury.

-I could. - Aemond just laughed as he addressed him again. - If she wanted me to stay away.

-She never wanted you, my dear bastard. It was always me. - Aemond's mocking smile almost tore his cheeks as he caressed Y/n's neck with his fingertips, his stomach tingling with contentment as he saw her sweet, soft skin shivering with his touch.

-Lie. - Jacaerys practically shouted as he stared at Aemond with cold eyes.

-I'm going to show you the lie. - The king said, suddenly becoming very serious, his eyes flashing in the direction of his bastard nephew.

-Take off your clothes. - He ordered Y/n who hesitated for a second because she was in front of Jacaerys.

-Aemond… - She blushed visibly looking at his hands.

-I said take off your clothes. - He murmured the order very seriously as he gently caressed her chin.

She then obeyed, and looking only at Aemond she removed them piece by piece little by little, becoming completely naked. The look of pure desire he gave her made her press her thighs together tightly as she bit her lip, momentarily forgetting that Jace was in the room.

-Come here, my love. - He called her, extending his hand and Y/n immediately went to meet him eagerly.

-Always so obedient to me. - He said, stroking her hair as she practically rubbed her head against his hand.

Jacaerys watched this without reacting. Y/n had never obeyed him, she seemed like a wild horse. She wouldn't let him touch her, she was never willing to sleep with him, she was cold and cruel no matter what he tried, the few times they lay together she hadn't even moved in bed, or completely removed her clothes, seeming to do nothing. the slightest matter of being there. And now here she was obediently naked before Aemond as she melted into his touches.

Aemond moved his hands down to her nipples and squeezed them languidly, making her open her mouth in a soft moan, while she leaned towards him, silently begging for more. He then brought his mouth to her left nipple, sucking and kissing it, making her moan softly for him as he caressed his hair, pulling his mouth closer and closer to her.

The king then brought his right hand to the top of Y/n's thighs and smiled mischievously against the flesh of her breast, still with the nipple between his teeth, as he felt the moisture that was there.

-Always so wet for me.

He then had an idea. And releasing Y/n, causing her to let out a groan of frustration, he positioned a chair in front of Jacaerys a short distance away.

-Sit here, my dear. - He waved his hand, and Y/n, even hesitantly, did so.

-Now I want you to open your beautiful legs for me, and rest them on the chair. - He spoke in that soft voice and Y/n felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair for doing that in front of Jacaery, but she did it anyway.

Aemond stopped behind her and slowly ran his hand down Y/n's body, caressing her breasts, her belly until he reached where he wanted. And then he opened the lips of her pussy, exposing her to Jace. The wetness dripped from inside her uncontrollably, wet like Jace had never seen.

Aemond smiled mischievously as he gently caressed her folds, spreading more and more of the fluids that ran from her pussy, making her moan and gasp.

-Just look at her, Jacaerys. - He said maliciously. - Melting for me, so wet.

-Has she ever wet herself like this for you? - He said, slapping Y/n's pearl, making her scream as she threw her head back.

-That's enough! - Jacaerys shouted, fuming with rage at seeing his wife in that situation.

Aemond just laughed darkly as he inserted two fingers into Y/n's intimacy, who threw her head back in pleasure with the movements he made.

-Oh my dear Lord Strong, this will only end when I have fucked each of her delicious holes in front of you and taught you how a lady likes to be treated.

As he said that, he squeezed that spongy spot inside Y/n, making her beg for his name in pure desperation. Her moist flesh pressed against Aemond's fingers, begging for more contact, begging to be filled.

-Always making such sweet sounds for me, sweet girl. - Aemond whispered close to her ear, making Y/n gasp squeezing the back of the chair with that voice sounding so close.

With an almost evil smile, gently licking his lips, Aemond turned around, lowering himself between her legs in front of the chair and without warning, pulling her by the thighs, leaving her wet and warm pussy very close to his face.

-Raise your hips a little for me, my dear. - He asked in a firm voice and she did it at the same moment, needing his care more than ever. - Good girl.

Without waiting another second, the king took her moist folds into his mouth, tasting her with desire, eliciting screams and gasps from her lips, which for Aemond were as sweet as that pussy.

-Oh Aemond… - She sighed his name between degrading moans of pleasure as he sucked her pearl and played with her using his tongue, while his long fingers hit that specific spot inside her that made her scream every time. - More, please, more.

Aemond laughed in pure malice against her, making her feel even more pleasure, her soft walls contracting against his fingers as her whole body began to spasm slightly, Y/n's moans became louder and more debauched as she tangled her hands in Aemond's silver hair, practically rubbing herself against his face as ecstasy took over her body, screaming the king's name in desperation as she reached her peak and collapsed against the chair, feeling boneless. The body giving slight spasms as Aemond teased her sensitive pearl with the tip of his tongue even after the intense orgasm.

-Who do you belong to? - Came the firm question in Aemond's laconic voice as he held her by the hair to face him, now standing in front of the chair.

-To you, my king. - She sighed, staring at him.

-Then get on your knees for me like the good girl I know you are! - He growled, still holding her by the hair, making Y/n moan with contentment as she got up from the chair with her legs still slightly shaking.

As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of Jacaerys again, momentarily even forgetting that he was there, and with a mischievous smile she knelt in front of the chair where Aemond was now sitting.

-You know what to do, Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - He murmured with a sickly side smile to Jacaerys who was about to vomit, while delicately stroking Y/n's locks of hair.

-Yes, my king. - She sighed, nodding eagerly. Without needing to hear anything else, she guided her hands to the laces of Aemond's pants, pulling them avidly, overcome by the desire to please him too.

Her hungry eyes shone as she finally placed them on Aemond's already hard and leaking cock, caressing his hardness with a lewd smile on her lips. Y/n ran her soft hands all over his length, from the base to the tip, leaving a gentle caress with the tip of her thumb on the slit from where that pearly liquid slowly flowed.

With an even bigger smile when she heard the king grunt softly, she finally brought her lips to the tip of his cock, slowly sucking only that part until her cheeks sank, moaning at the same time as he felt the strong taste of his pre-cum on the tip of his tongue.

Breathing deeply through her nose, she lowered her lips as far as she could, sucking and licking him with praise. Taking her mouth off and taking a breath, she only lowered her lips to his balls and kissed and sucked them hard while she moved her hand back and forth on his member, eliciting grunts and gasps from his trembling lips. Without warning, she lowered her lips once more to his cock, making him growl and tangle his hands in her wild hair.

-I'll fuck your mouth. - He growled, giving the first thrust against her lips and Y/n did her best to nod, feeling her eyes water. Aemond grunted lightly with his hands tangled in Y/n's voluminous hair while she sucked his cock hard, kneeling between his legs more like a whore than a lady.

-That's enough. - He growled, feeling his body tremble slightly with agonizing pleasure on the edge of the abyss, making Y/n remove her mouth from his cock and look at him with those doe eyes shining with tears, as if she hadn't just sucked him like a whore, her lips still full of saliva and pre-cum.

-Come here, sweet girl. - He pulled her to sit on his lap with a sideways smile, leaving a hungry and wet kiss on her lips, feeling her moan and rub her hot, wet mouth against him hungrily. For a moment he almost forgot about Jacaerys' presence in the room, so lost in the softness of Y/n's lips and pussy.

Until he heard the sound of wood hitting the floor and looked at his nephew over Y/n's shoulder, letting out a laugh when he saw him writhing in his chair, his eyes burning with fury as he tried to free himself.

-I thought you were stronger than that, my dear nephew. - Aemond murmured mockingly as he firmly squeezed Y/n's ass with both hands, making her moan and throw her head back, rubbing herself even more against his cock.

-Aemond please…- She sighed without caring about Jacaerys. - Please…

-Please what, my sweet? - He asked, laughing, kissing her neck roughly as he looked cruelly at Jace, waiting for Y/n's answer.

-Fuck me. - She begged him without any shame, grinding on his thighs and rubbing her wet folds against his hard, leaking member. - Please fuck me, my king. I'm yours.

-Did you hear that, bastard? - Aemond growled, serrated his lips and then biting Y/n's neck, making her scream for him. - It's me she wants!

With these words, he brought his right hand to the friction zone between the two of them and with a smile of satisfaction, guided his own hard cock, leaking inside her, making her moan with satisfaction as she descended on him.

-Yes… yes… yes… - She sighed in joy, feeling him stretch every corner of her to the edge, scratching the leather of his jerkin, hungry for more contact, hungry for more of Aemond.

-My girl is so needy. - Aemond hissed, slamming his hips against hers firmly, making her scream. - Always eager for my touch, always begging for me.

-Harder, Aemond. - She moaned between sighs as she nodded her head, going crazy with each bite the king left on her neck. Going up and down on his cock, riding him harder and harder, feeling goosebumps covering her skin with the sensation of pleasure that only Aemond could give her. - Please… please…

Growling with pleasure, Aemond tangled his left hand in her hair and pulled her against him, taking her lips in a wild kiss full of greedy bites, while lifting her hips from the chair harder, making her tremble above him and grip him even tighter.

Pulling her lower lip into a bite, he trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts, sucking and caressing them with his tongue, drawing even more pleasure from Y/n, who threw her head back lost in pleasure, finding her husband's glazed eyes watching the scene, looking like he was about to vomit.

The pleasure in her core multiplied. She liked the feeling. She liked seeing the humiliation in Jacaerys' eyes as Aemond took her. Y/n liked the feeling of knowing that he was feeling even more humiliated than she felt every time she was forced to endure his touch.

Feeling Y/n's walls contracting around him, Aemond guided his hand to her sensitive pearl that gently brushed against his pelvis with synchronized movements and caressed her even harder, making her scream and tremble above him, rolling her eyes in pure pleasure.

-Who do you belong to? - He growled breathlessly into her ear, feeling on the verge of his own orgasm.

-You, my king! - She practically sobbed amidst her moans, burying her face contorted with pleasure in the gap between his neck and shoulder, still riding him with trembling legs. - You. Only you.

-Look closely, you bastard. - Aemond growled, rolling his eyes in pleasure as he fucked Y/n with abandon. - I want you to see how well she cums on my cock.

With a loud moan of Aemond's name, Y/n came all over his cock, shuddering and convulsing as she collapsed on him, squeezing him so hard that she practically ripped the orgasm out of the king, who grunted and bit her shoulder, feeling the pleasure tear him apart as his seed invaded her hot pussy.

The two of them stood still for a few moments, panting and immersed in pleasure. The only sound in the room was their uneven breathing. Jacaerys could very well be dead in all that silence. Little by little, Aemond felt his cock slowly come back to life as Y/n's pussy spasmed around him, driving him completely crazy.

She whimpered against Aemond's neck, feeling his now semi-erect cock still buried deep in her sensitive intimacy. Aemond cooed softly at her as he stroked her hair.

-Are you okay, my dear?

She nodded at him as she stared at him with a tear-stained face.

-Can you hold one more for me? - He asked, tucking a strand of Y/n's wild hair behind her ear.

-Yes. - She sighed, throwing her arms around his neck and panting when she felt Aemond harden beneath her again.

-Then be good, go to the bed and get on your hands and knees for me. - He murmured with his lips pressed against Y/n's ear, while firmly squeezing both of her ass cheeks.

Y/n stood up and gasped as her body disconnected from Aemond's and with wobbly legs she walked slowly to the bed, not sparing even a glance at her husband still tied to the chair. Aemond's seed ran down her thighs along with her own fluids and with a sigh she knelt on the bed making every effort to stay steady, with her legs aching after sex.

Aemond walked to the bed and opening the last drawer he took the bottle of oil and Y/n moaned with contentment already knowing what was coming. He positioned himself behind her and gently kissed each of her ass cheeks before spreading them, exposing her wrinkled hole. She sighed at him and leaned her body even further forward just as she knew Aemond liked, her gaze meeting Jace's at that moment with a smile of pure satisfaction as she saw tears running down his damn face.

Y/n then felt the first finger soaked in oil entering her ass and sighed as she buried her face between the sheets. It didn't take long for Aemond to insert the second and then the third while making slow movements with his hand. He brought his other hand to her swollen clitoris and gently stimulated it, making her sigh and moan with the double stimulation.

And when he removed his fingers she waited anxiously for what was to come, the feeling of pleasure taking over her body as Aemond invaded her ass with his cock slowly.

-Seven hells. - Aemond moaned as he sheathed himself completely inside her. - Always so tight back here.

He then slapped Y/n's ass making her moan and began to fuck her hard against the mattress while she moaned desperately. Aemond pressed her pearl again leaving her a mess of moans and gasps for him as she begged for more. She no longer had any strength in her arms and collapsed on the bed, only with her hips raised as Aemond held them and she tried to keep them in the right position with the little strength she had left in her body.

-Whose cunt is this Y/n? - Aemond growled as he pinched her pearl between his fingers making her scream and spasm on the sheets.

-Y-yours Aemond. - She whimpered at him with tears of pleasure running down her cheeks.

-And whose mouth is this? - He murmured leaning down and kissing her in a way that could be passionate and dirty at the same time.

-Only yours my king. - She moaned between kisses.

-And whose is this tight, delicious ass? - He asked, slapping her left cheek, fucking her even harder while stimulating her clitoris with his fingertips.

-Yours. - Y/n cried and moaned. - Only yours, Aemond. Only yours. Always only yours my king.

Jacaerys could no longer look, could no longer feel repulsion, all of this was too much for him. Y/n was his, it was not supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the king. Y/n was supposed to be his wife. Tears ran uncontrollably down his face as he saw his wife being degraded in the worst and most repulsive way before his eyes.

-Cum for me one more time Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - Aemond spoke with his body glued to hers as he sped up his movements, and shortly after Y/n came with a moan and collapsed on the bed while Aemond came deep in her ass with a guttural moan and bit her right shoulder.

-I love you. - She said with a tired smile as Aemond pulled out of her and kept his own intimacy in his pants.

-Avy jorrāelan tolī, issa jorrāelagon. (I love you too, my love). - He murmured softly only for Y/n's tired and sleepy ears, as he left a wet kiss between her shoulder blades.

Y/n had never said those words to Jacaerys, had never even come close, had never even told him that he was tolerable. And a tear of pure hatred and betrayal ran down his face. He saw her in bed falling asleep covered in sweat with Aemond's seed dripping down her holes while Aemond smiled victoriously at him.

-What did you do all this for? - He asked with a choked voice trying to keep it steady, feeling the bile about to make him vomit after seeing one of the greatest atrocities of life happen in front of him. - You already had her now.

Aemond walked slowly towards Jacaerys with confident steps and a smile that was a mix of victory and malice.

-No my hateful nephew. I always had her. She was always mine. And you always trying to steal what is not yours dared to put your filthy paws on her perfect body! - He hissed with his eyes burning with fury, leaning over the chair and staring at him deeply.

-On your wedding day she came to me crying and begged me to take her virginity so that she would not have it stolen by you. - He smiled at the memory in an almost melancholic way. - And I did as she asked and fucked her, while she was still wearing that wedding dress, before you had even seen her in it.

-When she entered the sept, it was with my seed dripping down her thighs, just like now. - Aemond laughed victoriously as he watched Jace shake his head in pure shock and sadness.

-She never wanted you, she came to me every chance she got and begged me to give her the pleasure she knew only I could give her. - He hissed angrily, his voice low and deadly. - She told me she felt disgusted every time she needed to feel your touch against her skin and that she would kill you in your sleep if she could.

If Aemond had told him this a few hours ago, Jace would have denied it, said he was lying, but now… there was no denying the facts. Not after the torture she had subjected him to. Not after seeing his wife being sodomized by his uncle while she cried and begged for more beneath him.

-And now… - Aemond said, approaching with a sick smile as he pulled the dagger from his belt. - I will fulfill the promise I made her years ago.

And with his eyes still glazed over from the nightmare he had been forced to watch, Jacaerys waited silently for the stranger, who was certainly coming to meet him in the form of Aemond Targaryen.

The promise

-When my brother is king and I am your hand, I will take you for myself in front of that filthy bastard, and when I finish giving you pleasure, I will cut his throat and take you as my wife. - Aemond whispered softly against her jugular, very close to her ear, making her skin crawl.

And with that promise, Lady Y/n entered the sept to marry Prince Jacaerys with a smile on her face.

The future

Y/n felt free, she felt light, she felt like the most beautiful creature in all the kingdoms. The maids were preparing her wedding dress, beautiful as only something royal could be.

The council warned Aemond about the fact that marrying the wife of Prince Jacaerys, who had consistent rumors that the king himself had slit his throat, would not help improve his already low reputation. But he did not care. And ignoring all opinions, he set the wedding date as soon as possible, because he was sure that his seed had already taken root now with the absence of moon tea.

And today, finally, the most important day of all had arrived. She would finally be Aemond's, Aemond's and his alone, no more unwanted touches, no more pain, no more tears. She would be his alone. And that was why she smiled as they arranged her clothes. Shortly after they had finished dressing, combing her hair and putting her shoes on, all the maids left her alone in the room. It wasn't long before she heard a light knock on the door. Frowning, she went over and opened it, finding a young page standing there with a yellowed piece of paper between his fingers.

-The king ordered this to be delivered to you my lady. - He said, giving her the paper, bowing and then walking away.

Y/n smiled even wider if possible, and when she opened the paper, she thought her heart would explode with pure happiness.

"I'm thinking of you, see you in the sept.

A.T."

She pressed the letter to her chest with a sigh of joy, and then safely put it away in her bedside drawer.

Lady Y/n, soon to be queen, entered the sept with a smile from ear to ear, but this time it was for all the right reasons.

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[parfaitblogs]

as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament. 

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day. 

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened. 

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder. 

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed. 

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot. 

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it. 

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?" 

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole. 

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall. 

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room. 

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted. 

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you. 

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him. 

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap. 

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not. 

Your heart decides to go with the former. 

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you. 

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back. 

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter. 

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand. 

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate. 

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head. 

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in. 

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished. 

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress. 

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm. 

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you. 

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy. 

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips. 

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to. 

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of. 

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you. 

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities. 

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel. 

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest. 

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his. 

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one. 

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums. 

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him. 

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further." 

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it. 

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon. 

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces. 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again. 

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants. 

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear. 

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly. 

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to. 

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him. 

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again. 

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name. 

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might. 

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you. 

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly. 

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you. 

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from. 

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply. 

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well? 

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own. 

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. 

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work. 

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud. 

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position. 

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you. 

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you. 

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect. 

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?" 

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning. 

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise. 

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own. 

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering. 

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower. 

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead. 

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching. 

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest. 

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor. 

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily. 

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him. 

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly. 

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement. 

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too. 

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment. 

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen. 

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply. 

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?" 

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides. 

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait. 

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you. 

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look. 

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table. 

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face. 

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities. 

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need. 

Stay quiet, don't react, detach. 

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now. 

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours. 

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly. 

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why. 

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him. 

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door. 

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression. 

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him. 

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end. 

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you. 

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get. 

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing. 

Maybe he would. 

"So you are alive," he says. 

"Last I checked, yes," you reply. 

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in. 

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows. 

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you. 

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster. 

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper. 

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble. 

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding. 

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower. 

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch. 

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that? 

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly. 

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee. 

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago. 

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not. 

Not today, it seemed. 

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence. 

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful. 

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart. 

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later. 

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah." 

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast. 

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional��yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home. 

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be. 

At three in the morning. 

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far. 

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night. 

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently. 

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up. 

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were. 

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features. 

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom. 

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around. 

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists. 

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child. 

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it. 

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?" 

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet. 

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar. 

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go. 

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more. 

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate. 

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight. 

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline. 

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more. 

And yet; fuck you universe. 

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways). 

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so. 

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him. 

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe. 

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body. 

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs. 

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you. 

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer. 

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it. 

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly. 

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold. 

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience. 

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day. 

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath. 

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything. 

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye. 

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far. 

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more. 

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[hoernypie]

Milk factory✩‧₊˚ 🐮

tags: breastfeeding, pregnancy kink, adult nursing, handjob

wc: 2260

The moment Satoru learned that you are pregnant he became thrilled. His obsession grew with your belly until it became the sole essence of his existence. He would spend his free time lost in online forums, devouring every bit of information about the pregnancy, what you felt, and how your body was changing. But in all of that, his interest was caught by one certain thing – breastfeeding. The very thought ignited a newfound kink within him. As your breasts grew bigger, Satoru's fascination with the concept of breastfeeding grew more intense. His thoughts often circled around your breasts getting big and heavy, swelling with milk. The wait was a torment for him as with passing time the anticipation was almost unbearable, filling him with an overwhelming mix of excitement and arousal.

After ensuring you were asleep, he would quietly sneak out to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Quickly his jogs ended up sliding down, as he tightly gripped the counter with a shaky hand to support himself, his eyes closed as he pictured your enormous, full of milk breasts in his hands. His breath grew shallow as he imagined the sweet, warm liquid gushing into his mouth. His hand moved rhythmically over his erection, the pressure building with every fantasy about your body. He longed for the day when he would finally have the chance to taste your milk, almost addicted to the anticipation. His mind raced with scenarios of you in different stages of lactation, your nipples varying from engorged and leaky to soft and gently dripping white gold. Satoru's dick glistened with precum that beaded at the tip as he stroked it, feeling the intense pleasure building in him. His heavy balls tightened with every imagined drop of milk that hit his taste buds. Each stroke grew more desperate, more urgent, as he chased the climax at the mere thought of comfort that your nurturing breasts promised him. Each stroke brought him closer to the edge, his body tensing while he moaned quietly. The thoughts of being fed and comforted by you, and sharing such an intimate act with you made his heart race. And as he reached the peak of his pleasure, the image of your eyes locked onto his with that soft gaze and sweet smile, watching him drink from your body, was the final push he needed to cum into the palm of his hand.

Days turned into weeks, and Satoru's obsession with your pregnancy grew stronger with each passing moment. One afternoon, as you casually walked past the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your shirt's reflection. There were faint, wet spots that hadn't been there before. After closely inspecting the fabric your eyes widened as the realization hit you – your breasts had started leaking milk. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of Satoru's reaction after sharing the good news. Little did you know, the sight of those wet spots would be the catalyst for Satoru's most erotic and sensual fantasy yet.

In the evening you finally decided to tell Satoru the exciting news. You waited for him to come into bed, trying to contain your own excitement and amusement. When he finally got under the covers, you smiled widely "Honey," you began, "I think you're going to like what happened today." He looked at you curiously, his eyes searching yours for any clue as to what you were referring to. "The milk factory is open," you announced amused, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to elation in an instant. His eyes grew wide, and he took a deep breath, his heart racing at the revelation. "Really?" he managed to choke out, trying to keep his composure. "That's amazing!" You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. With eyes gleaming with excitement and anticipation, Satoru couldn't hold back his desperate plea. "Can I taste it?" he whispered, his voice quivering with hope to finally feel what he's been craving for so long. His gaze was fixed on your chest, the slight dampness of your shirt clearly visible under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The long weeks of waiting had led to this moment, and his kink had grown into an all-consuming need, eating him alive. But you, delicately patted his hair, gently declining with a soft "Not yet, dear." Seeing his face fall into a pout, you couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement at his childlike behavior. "The strongest" yet, acting like a spoiled child after hearing rejection. Satoru's pout deepened, his dick getting harder and harder while it created a wet patch on his jogs. "Sweetheart please, just a taste - nothing more" he desperately pleaded.

"Not yet, my love," you repeated, your voice tender despite the firmness of your decision. "Let's wait until the baby is born. It's important that the milk is first for our little one." You leaned in to kiss his forehead, his hand absentmindedly caressing your swollen breast, feeling the firmness and fullness beneath his palm. He whined, his eyes never leaving the hypnotizing sight of your chest. "But I want to be part of this too," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. You chuckled softly, stroking his cheek. "You will be, 'toru. Just be patient. When the baby is here, you can share with it." Your words hung in the air, a promise that seemed to both soothe and frustrate him even more. He nodded reluctantly, his eyes never straying from your breasts as he snuggled to you. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but Satoru knew that waiting would make the first taste all the more sweet. With a sigh, he nestled closer to you, his hand sliding over your belly to feel the baby's gentle kicks. For now, he would have to be content with the knowledge that soon, he would finally get to be more intimate in the act he had been dreaming about for so long. The wait would be worth it, he assured himself, as he closed his eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, before slowly falling asleep.

The weeks leading up to the baby's birth were a torturous blend of excitement and frustration for Satoru. His obsession with your lactation grew more intense with each time when he delicately touched your body, and he found himself counting down the hours until he could finally taste the sweet ambrosia he had been fantasizing about for so long. His mind swirled with images of you, a glowing motherly figure, him kneeling in front of you, as he latched onto your nipple, your milk spilling out and soaking his hungry mouth, the sound of his contented slurps filling the room. The thought of your breasts, now a symbol of life itself - it all sent shivers down his spine. Each night, as you slept peacefully beside him, he could feel his control slipping, his hand occasionally straying to the wet patch on your shirt, his fingers brushing against the fabric as if trying to coax more milk out of your body. But he knew better than to push his luck, and he waited patiently, mentally getting ready for the moment the baby was born. The anticipation was agonizing, but he made sure to not do anything that would harm you or the baby.

Finally, the day arrived. The baby's cries filled the delivery room, and as the nurse placed the squirming little bundle into your arms, Satoru felt a swell of emotions, his eyes brimming with tears. He watched as you began to gently rock the baby, your face a picture of serenity and love, despite your disheveled looks - for him, you were always the most beautiful person in the whole world.

Days passed in a blur of sleepless nights and endless diaper changes, but amidst the chaos, Satoru found moments of quiet anticipation. The baby latched onto your breast with ease, and as you nurtured your little one, he couldn't help but stare at the sight before him, taking multiple pictures. Your breasts, now a source of life for the baby, were more mesmerizing and tempting than ever. Each time the baby was done feeding, Satoru would watch as your nipples remained erect, the occasional droplet of milk escaping and glistening in the soft light. His patience had reached a new peak with every passing day. He knew he had to wait, but the sight of your milk-heavy breasts was like a siren's call, pulling him closer and closer to the edge of his self-control. He would often find himself lost in thought, his hand unconsciously straying to his crotch, the fabric of his pants growing damp with his arousal. The days stretched into weeks, and as the baby grew more accustomed to the world, each time you offered your breast to the baby, he felt a pang of jealousy, pouting at the thought of what was denied to him.

Days turned into another month, and the baby had grown more accustomed to the world, its tiny hands grasping onto your breasts with surprising strength. Satoru had watched from the sidelines, his patience wearing thin, his longing becoming an unbearable ache. One quiet evening, as the baby finally fell asleep in your arms, you looked over at him with a soft smile. "You still wanna try it?" you whispered, gently guiding the baby to unlatch, gently putting it back in the crib. Satoru's eyes sparkled, his mouth watering at the sight of the tiny beads of milk that had formed around your areola.

Satoru climbed into the bed, his eyes never leaving your breasts. He positioned himself beside you, his gaze fixed on the treasure he had been longing for. His breath was shallow as he reached out, gently cupping one of your breasts, feeling soft skin in his hand. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper. You nodded, a gentle smile playing on your lips. His thumb traced a circle around your nipple, watching as it pebbled and leaked a single drop of milk. He leaned closer, his tongue darting out to catch it, savoring the sweet taste that had haunted his dreams for so long. With a soft sigh, he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently. The sensation was breathtaking, sending waves of pleasure through his body as he tasted the sweetest thing in his life. He could feel the milk start to flow, the warm liquid filling his mouth that he swallowed greedily. Your hand found its way into his hair, guiding and encouraging him as you gently caressed his hair. This act of intimacy was something he'd never felt before.

Satoru couldn't believe the moment was finally here. He had dreamt about this so many times, but the reality was far more better than any fantasy he could think of. As he continued to suck and the taste of your milk grew stronger, his arousal reached new heights. Satoru's hand slipped into his pants, his grip tightening around his throbbing dick. He began to stroke himself, his hips buckling slightly, his body desperate for release. Each pull on your nipple sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. The sight of your milk trickling down his chin and wetting the sheets was too much, as Satoru stroked himself faster, his breath shallow. His eyes closed, feeling comfort in this intimate act. Your smile grew softer, your eyes filled with love as you looked down at him, whimpering and moaning against your soft flesh. You reached over, wrapping your hand over his shaft, squeezing your fingers around it as you moved your hand up and down. The room was filled with the sound of his slurps and squelches of his dick. As the pressure built up inside him, Satoru felt your hand tighten around his dick, urging him to let go. With a final, desperate moan, he did just that, his cum spurting out and landing on his stomach, dirtying his shirt. The sight was more erotic than any of us could have ever imagined.

The moment left Satoru trembling with pleasure, your milk still warm on his tongue and your gentle touch still lingered on his body. He watched as you took a soft cloth to wipe his face clean, your eyes filled with affection. His hand lingered on your breast, feeling the gentle pulse of your heartbeat beneath his fingertips. "Can I do it again?" he asked excitedly. You chuckled, leaning in to kiss him softly on the forehead. "Not now," you murmured, "And let's clean the mess that you've made, shall we?"

As the days went by, Satoru eagerly awaited his turn, his kink becoming now more of a shared intimacy between you. After the baby had its fill, you would often offer your breast to him, watching with amusement and love as he greedily suckled the excess milk with a pout on his face. His eyes would roll back with pleasure, your hand instinctively caressing his erection, the act of being nurtured by you becoming a nightly ritual that brought him closer to the brink of ecstasy.

The bond you shared had evolved, becoming something more profound than either of you had ever anticipated, weaving a tapestry of love, obsession, and kink that only served to strengthen your connection, making his love for you grow deeper with that testament of the intimacy that could only exist between you two.

Lately, I've been obsessed with @gojoest content about Satoru. I love you Ai. ┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ

[cutielando]

qatar, qatar | l.n.

synopsis: in which you pick up the pieces after the shit show that was the Qatar Grand Prix

a/n: i think everyone needs a pick-me-up after that shit show that they called a race. also, this is very rushed, so i do apologize if it sucks ass

my masterlist

A clown show.

Those were the best words that you could use to describe what the Qatar Grand Prix had proved to be.

The FIA had all but shit on Lando and his efforts during the entire race, the harsh penalty he had been given being completely ridiculous and blown out of proportion.

You had watched everything unfold from the garage, debating what had happened with Keegan and Jon at the end of the race.

And yet, even though neither of you could come up with an explanation for what happened, all 3 of you came to the same conclusion.

"He's going to be absolutely devastated" you had all agreed.

Hearing his voice on the radio at the end, broken and absolutely exhausted, made your heart clench even more in your chest. He had been so excited, so happy and positive going into the race, and everything went out the window in a matter of seconds.

Watching him sit in the car after he parked added more salt to the wound. You knew he would be beating himself up for his 'mistake', and you knew it would take a lot to try and make him feel better.

You were chewing your bottom lip as you waited for Lando to come back from his media duties. You were racking your brain about what you should say to him, whether you should even mention the race at all or just avoid the subject altogether.

The sound of the small door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, you eyes landing on Lando.

"Hey, baby" you greeted him, your eyes instantly going to his face.

He looked so tired, so devastated and sad. Your heart clenched at the sight of him, so broken and just plain exhausted.

He didn't say anything in return, only came and sat down next to you, his gaze fixated on the floor.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke, letting a tense silence swallow you whole.

You didn’t even know what you could possibly say to make him feel better. Words just didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault, baby” you whispered, putting your hand on his back and rubbing soothing circles.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I should have seen the flag, I should have slowed down. I may have just cost us the championship because I was too stupid not to see those flags" he said, his voice dripping with defeat and sarcasm.

"Hey, don't say that. Even the team hadn't realized what happened, you should have seen the way those flags were being waved. Yellow, then green, then blue, then green again, then yellow once again. It's not your fault, Lando" you said, doing your best to sound as convincing as possible.

But you knew it was in vain. He shook his head, hanging his head lower than before.

You continued rubbing circles on his back, your other hand taking a hold of his.

"I should've known" he whispered, his voice small.

It broke your heart to see him like this, so down and vulnerable. This wasn't your Lando, the happy and cheerful boy you had fallen in love with.

You didn't say anything for a little while, letting a more comfortable silence envelop you two. You didn't even know what you could possibly say.

"How about we pack up and go to the hotel? We can talk there, I don't want you hanging around here right now" you suggested, patiently waiting for a response from him.

He hesitated a little before finally nodding, needing to get away from the paddock as soon as possible.

You made quick work in packing up everything for him, letting him rest while you took care of everything.

The ride to the hotel was quiet, soft music playing in the background. Lando spent the entire ride looking out the window, seemingly deep in thought, his hand tightly clasped in yours. You kept rubbing little soothing motions on his soft skin, hoping it provided at least the knowledge that you were there for him, no matter what.

He still didn't say anything until you made it to the room, silently moving through the kitchen.

"Do you want me to run you a warm bath?" you asked, your voice soft.

He nodded, giving you a small hint of a smile as he finally looked at you. You could see the silent torment going on behind his eyes, which broke your heart even more as you looked at him.

You went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling your face into his before making your way towards the bathroom.

Once you got him in the warm water, you could slowly see his muscles relaxing, the creases on his forehead smoothing out.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, your voice small.

He sighed, not saying anything for a moment before he opened his eyes and turned to look at you, sitting on the floor next to the tub.

"I feel like I've let everybody down. I should have seen those yellows, I should have slowed down and then maybe I could've caught Max and won. We would have won the championship if it weren't for my mistake" he said, his voice a little shaky.

You shook your head, your hand coming to rest on his cheek.

"Don't say that. This was not your fault, do you hear me? I was watching that broadcast and the yellows were not shown on time for you to see them, they didn't even know if they should show them or not. This is not your fault, this is solely on the FIA, okay?" you spoke, looking into his eyes.

He bit his lip, wanting to argue with you, but upon seeing the fire in your eyes, decided against it.

"I just feel like I've let everyone down" he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

He cared so much about everyone around him, from the team all the way to the fans, and he hated feeling like he's disappointed them. Even if it was something that he didn't have control over.

"No, Lando, nobody is disappointed or mad at you. Everyone is saying that you didn't deserve that penalty and you should have won, everyone. Don't ever, for even a second, think that this is your fault. I need you to believe that" you were determined to make him see the light at the end of the tunnel, to make him understand that there was still hope.

He bit his lip, tears now freely falling down his face.

He didn't think he could put into words how grateful he was that he had you. You were his solace when everything seemed to go against him, you were his peace when everything around him was chaos, you were his everything.

He couldn't imagine being able to cope with everything if it wasn't for you.

"I just want this to end" he whispered, pursing his lips as even more tears fell down his cheeks.

You sat up and cradled his head to your chest, running a hand through his wild curls.

You held him as he silently cried, holding your own tears at bay. You needed to stay strong for him, you needed to show him that despite what he might have been feeling, everything was going to be okay.

His sobs quieted down after a while, only his silent sniffles disturbing the silence. The water was already cold, which sent a shiver through Lando's body.

"Come on, I don't want you to get sick" you said as you let go of him with a kiss on the forehead and held up his towel.

Once you got him dressed up in something comfy, you both settled into the comfortable and soft bed.

You were trying to get a read on him, detect anything that could indicate how he was feeling.

In the end, you decided to just ask.

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged, but he didn't seem as sad as he had been before.

"I'm still sad, and still disappointed, but I feel a little better thanks to you" he said and gave you the first genuine smile of the evening, warming your heart in the process.

You smiled and leaned in, pressing your lips against his soft ones. You poured every ounce of love and adoration you carried for him in the kiss, hoping that it could speak for you.

When you pulled away, his smile was even wider now. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his phone dinged with a message just as he had opened his mouth.

He took it and unlocked, chuckling a little once he saw the message.

max f: wanna hop on stream and forget about tonight?

You smiled, knowing that streaming with Max would always guarantee to put a smile on his face.

"Do you mind?" he asked, looking at you hopefully.

You shook your head, running a hand through his damp curls.

"Go ahead. I'll take out my Kindle and read a little" you said, your heart warming at the happy look on his face.

And that's how you spent the rest of your evening, bundled up in bed, him with Max and you engrossed in your book.

Just enjoying each other's presence.

Because in the end, that's all he needed to forget.

Just you.

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the anniversary. l Joel Miller

Summary:  he forgot about a very important date for you

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do that), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, breeding kink or just talking about kids

 A/N:  somehow it came out the same way. I hope you like it. Thank you for every feedback, it means a lot to me.

The car quietly pulled into the driveway and after a moment the engine and the lights were turned off. He didn't get out right away, he just reached for the phone lying on the passenger seat and glanced at the last message Tommy had sent him.

He cursed quietly under his breath. This renovation had been causing them problems from the start and they wanted to finish it as soon as possible, but Joel's blood pressure rose every time he saw or heard that something would extend their work again. This time it was the same.

"Fuck." he hissed under his breath, resigned.

His gaze rolled over the quiet area immersed in sleep. It was already around midnight. Once again he had spent way too much time at work.

The car door slammed shut and his steps headed towards the door. The lights inside were dimmed, you had left them on just enough so he could safely move around the interior.

His gaze wandered to the couch in the living room, he was probably secretly hoping to see you there, but it was so late that he knew it was a foolish hope. You worked too, and you looked after the house and were there for Sarah while he was at work, which was... for too long lately.

His legs took him to the kitchen and the fridge, but when he opened the door he froze for a moment. There were several containers full of food on the shelves, and he definitely hadn't seen them there this morning. The cardboard box from your favourite cake shop looked completely untouched. And that bottle of champagne.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. Joel swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten and a heavy stone sinking into his stomach.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

More pieces of the puzzle started fitting together in his head. Fresh flowers in the living room, candles standing on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

When his eyes stopped at the calendar hanging on the wall he knew he had fucked everything up.

His hand went to his hair and he ruffled it wondering how angry you could be at him. Joel would probably rather you were angry because the disappointment in your eyes would kill him.

He couldn't hide in the kitchen forever though so he headed upstairs. He glanced through the ajar door to Sarah's room. Her bed was empty. That's right, for a few days you both told him that she would be staying at a friend's.

Another stone fell into his stomach.

The bedroom you shared was dark, but a small lamp was on by the bed, your silhouette was outlined under the sheets. This view was one of his favorites. You were sleeping quietly breathing.

Joel took off his shoes and shirt, throwing it towards the laundry basket. He climbed onto the bed and gently kissed your shoulder, then once again until you purred quietly.

"J-Joel?" your voice was quiet and sleepy "Is something wrong? What time is it?"

"Late. Midnight or something." he replied, resting his arms on either side of you "Baby, I'm so fucking sorry..."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands so he wouldn't see your embarrassment. You hoped that this conversation wouldn't happen, that you'd forget and go back to normal. But Joel didn't like unfinished business.

"I felt really stupid." you finally spoke up "For a moment I even wondered if I hadn't mixed up the dates. So I found the marriage certificate…"

"I messed everything up. I remembered that, at least at the beginning of the week."

"Yeah, I know. You worked a lot." your hand stroked his scratchy cheek "At least we have so much food that we don't have to cook tomorrow. And Sarah will be really happy about the cake I bought."

"That's not fair. You worked too, and then you came home, did all these things, and remembered our anniversary."

"Multitasking."

"I told you, you're better than Wonder Woman." you giggled, and that brought him relief "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am. I fucked it all up."

"You fucked up." You nodded, but your smile softened it "But we can still do something about it."

"Yeah?"

A sly smile appeared on his lips as your body settled beneath him. Your hands slid gently over his chest to his soft belly where your nails scratched it pleasantly.

He leaned down and his lips brushed yours, nibbling gently before his warm tongue slipped inside, caressing you pleasantly. A quiet groan escaped your throat.

You couldn't remember the last time Joel kissed you like that. The last few weeks had been quite hard, his late homecomings didn't make anything easier. In the evenings, you both fell into bed and before anything could happen, you fell asleep deeply.

Now, you had time and the house just for yourselves.

"Joel?" you murmured quietly as his lips moved to your neck. "Maybe you're tired, huh? I don't want you to be unconscious at work tomorrow."

A single movement of his hips and the large bulge hidden in his jeans rubbing against your thigh was a clear answer. He kissed your lips again and then sat up, removing the sheets from you.

"Oh, baby..." he sighed seeing that you were only wearing his shirt and panties "Even if I was on my deathbed I would ask for the opportunity to eat you out."

"God! Miller!" you laughed "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You won't understand." his large hands slid down your thighs squeezing them lightly "It's such a man thing."

His fingers reached for the hem of your panties and he slid them down without much trouble. He spread your thighs apart and you felt the heat flooding your neck. You were totally exposed to him, but Joel always made you feel totally sexy and desired even in a situation like this.

He settled himself between your thighs giving them a few kisses and squeezes. It was like a final countdown to what was about to happen. One, slow lick and the air left your lungs.

"So pretty." Joel mumbled and you bit your lip "I'm a lucky bastard."

You didn't have a chance to respond as his mouth closed over your heat. His tongue teased your button.

"Jesus!"

That was all that could escape your lips as you tried to catch your breath and control your body. Joel made sounds like he planned to eat you out completely and leave you barely alive. Unconsciously, your hips jerked trying to break free from the pleasure his mouth was giving you, but his hands held you tighter to the mattress.

"Stay." he mumbled "You're not going anywhere."

One of your hands tightened on the headboard of the bed and the other tangled in Joel's hair. You felt him slide his tongue into your heated pussy, in and out, his thumb making small circles on your clit. You felt his scratchy stubble on your thighs, his hands pressing you down to the mattress.

"I'm so close...so close..."

"I can feel it, baby. C'mon, let go."

His two thick fingers slid into you without a problem, finding the right spot. You clenched your thighs tighter, but that didn't stop him, his fingers moved faster and faster and after a moment, indescribable pleasure spread through your body.

"Oh my God!" you moaned "Fuck!"

Joel didn’t wait, freed himself from between your legs and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. He gave it a few pumps, his hands were slick with your juices. But it was his eyes that were the most hypnotizing. Those beautiful, brown eyes turned almost black. You knew he wanted you so much.

Not a word was said. His cock touched your pussy and after a moment he easily slid into you, stretching your walls pleasantly. Joel lay on you, pinning you harder to the mattress with the weight of his body. His fingers slid into your hair and his lips crushed yours. You only had time to wrap your legs around his waist before he thrust in for the first time.

His cock pushed in harder and deeper. You wanted to catch your breath, but Joel's mouth was swallowing you and it wasn't until he buried his face in your hair, moaning loudly, that you managed to do it.

You loved it when he made such dirty sounds, but living with a teenager, he had to hold back. Now Joel gave you a real concert.

"You're so tight, baby. So fucking good for me." he moaned in your ear. "I missed that pussy so much. I want to fuck you all night long."

You couldn't answer. No grammatically correct sentence was able to form in your brain. Your pussy took over and the only thing that slipped out from between your lips was:

"Harder, Joel… Fuck me harder."

Joel got up and knelt on the mattress. He threw your legs over his shoulders and held them tight, then began to pound into you harder and harder. Every movement was precise and hit exactly where you needed him. His cock moved hard inside you and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge really fast.

"I'm close, baby!" he panted "Cum for me, I want to feel you."

"Joel..."

"C'mon, baby." His thumb found your clit again and rubbed it hard "Fuck, c'mon!"

Your body arched. You could feel your walls squeeze his cock, the muscles in your legs quivering, but Joel didn't slow down. A few more hard thrusts and he filled you to the brim, a groan of pleasure escaping his throat as he tilted his head back.

"Sweet Jesus..." he mumbled, lowering his arms and letting your legs fall onto the bed, "Fuck, I've missed this so much..."

His cock slid out of you, and some of his seed flowed out of you after it. He watched it for a moment, then his fingers lazily pushed it back in.

"You know..." he began as his eyes moved to your face, "We should start talking about this eventually."

"About what?" you asked.

Joel laid down next to you, sliding down his jeans and laying completely naked, still breathing deeply.

"About kids." he replied calmly, turning his head to face you, "I'm not getting any younger, and I'd really like to have a kid or two with you."

"A kid or two?" you laughed.

"Yeah, why not?" his eyes shone so beautifully when he spoke about it "I would like to see your belly grow full of our baby. You will be even more beautiful. Besides, you are a wonderful mother to Sarah, she adores you. Would you like that? Because if you are not ready, baby, we can wait with it. We still have time."

You stroked his cheek, smiling fondly at him.

"I think I am ready, sweetie. It would be a wonderful journey together, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

You moved closer to him and snuggled into his arms. You were happy and you didn’t want to give up this moment for anything in the world.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

two is better than one

summary: Yunho walks in on you and your boyfriend, Mingi. Where things go next is beyond your wildest dreams.

warnings/tags: MDNI!, 18+, explicit, smut, free use, head pushing, creampie, unprotected sex (it's safe here, but please use protection!), threesome, spanking, light dom/sub, au non-famous, mingi is a pussy king

pairing: dom!song mingi x sub!fem!reader x dom!jeong yunho

author's note: Yungi is living in my brain rent free lately. I want two boyfriends and I want my boyfriends to be boyfriends and

ao3 link: two is better than one

word count: 4.2k

two is better than one

It wasn't the first time Mingi had picked you up and caged you in on the kitchen countertop. Situating himself between your open thighs, tongue quickly finding its way inside your parted lips, sparring with your own, breath coming in heavy. Soup on the stove turned to low, forgotten momentarily - the two of you had become very suddenly hungry for something else entirely during your dance party in the kitchen as dinner was cooking. A slow song had come on and your need had become palpable. A small gasp as he hoisted you up. You're tall, soft curves but athletic and he made you feel light as air.

His mouth moved to your neck as his hand found its way down the front of your satin pajama shorts, fingers swiping up your already wet folds, beginning their familiar dance with your throbbing clit.

You were both so absorbed in the moment that you hadn't heard the front door unlock, and therefore didn't stop when Mingi’s roommate, his best friend, Yunho, started to walk past the kitchen. You gasped when you saw him, his cheeks going red, but his gaze was unmistakable as he watched Mingi’s fingers begin to plunge inside of you, eyelids going heavy, the subconscious flick of his tongue across his bottom lip.

"Oh, sorry-" Yunho said after too long of a pause to be innocent.

Mingi didn't pull his fingers out, but slowed his hand, turning his head ever so slightly so he could see Yunho from behind him, pausing as he assessed the new tension in the room. Yunho turned to go, and a soft whimper escaped your mouth.

"Yunho." Mingi's voice was low, laced with a dark lust, "I don't think she wants you to go." His fingers resumed their ministrations as you watched Yunho's ears turn red, his right hand flexing by his side before he turned around to face you.

"Oh?" He said, still a little shy, but his demeanor was quickly changing in front of you as he began to approach, "And that's okay with you, Mingi?"

"Whatever my girl wants." Mingi growled, his thumb finding your clit as he beckoned his fingers inside of you. "Is that what you want, baby?" Mingi asked, lips ghosting over the tender skin of your neck.

You swallowed, "Is that... okay?"

Mingi laughed, his voice husky, "Angel, if I had been bothered by how I've seen Yunho look at you since we started dating, I would have said something by now." He pulled back, his expression going softer as he checked in with you, "Hey, you can say no, it's okay. If it were anyone else I wouldn't be down, but I trust Yunho." He said it so softly, just for the two of you to hear, that your anxiety quickly eased. He caught on quickly, "But if you want this," His hand started moving slowly again, "I think it would be very hot."

Yunho was devouring you with his eyes as this conversation happened. You would be lying if you said it hadn't crossed your mind. Mingi and Yunho were practically extensions of one another at this point. Nearly twins in height and build. Your hips bucked involuntarily at the thought of it, "Yes," You gasped as Mingi reacted immediately, his fingers resuming their original pace. "Fuck, yes. I want this."

Yunho was there in three long strides, sidling up beside Mingi, your hand coming to his waist in greeting as his hand came up to carress your face.

"Hi there." He breathed, his thumb tracing gently across your bottom lip, "God, you're even more stunning up close."

You tried to respond, the words, "Thank y-" falling into a moan as Mingi added another finger, no longer just trying to get you off for fun in the kitchen, you realized, but prepping you to take him. Or Yunho. Or both.

"Mmh, is Mingi making you feel so good, honey?" Yunho's other hand found its way underneath your shirt, knuckles grazing your nipples through your lace bralette.

You gasped at the sensation, but couldn't quite answer. Mingi pulled off of your neck, "Don't be rude, baby. Answer Yunho like a good girl."

"Y-yes-" You inhaled sharply as Yunho rolled your nipple between his long, deft fingers - fingers attached to beautiful hands you had admired on more than one occasion, clocking them to be the same size as Mingi’s.

"What a good girl." Yunho growled into your ear, "Can I kiss those pretty lips now?"

"God, yes, Yunho, please." You all but begged, barely getting the words out before his lips were on yours. It was a different sensation than you were accustomed to with Mingi, more gentle, taking his time to explore before they became more urgent, is tongue licking across the seam of your lips, moaning in satisfaction as you allowed him inside. You pulled back to warn Mingi, "I'm so close-"

He kissed your cheek, "You can come when Yunho tells you to, cutie."

A look you had never seen before - possessive and domineering - passed over Yunho's face as he smiled, "You think you can be good and do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, sir." You tried the formal title, just testing it out. Mingi didn't care for it, preferring hearing his own name, but based on how Yunho moaned quietly at your words, you surmised it was the right move.

"Such good manners, y/n." Yunho whispered, lips grazing across your jawline as both hands occupied your breasts, kneading them softly as you fucked Mingi’s hand, "You've trained her well, Mingi."

Mingi hummed, "Mmh, barely had to, she has always been so sweet for me." His free hand found the back of your neck, providing stability as you were becoming weak to their touch.

Yunho tweaked your nipples, making you gasp. He was loving this so much, "Well, then I think she deserves a reward, don't you?" He nipped your earlobe lightly with his teeth.

Mingi added more pressure right where you needed it, "Yes, definitely. I wanna see my baby's pretty face when you tell her to come on my hand."

"Please, Yunho." You begged, sweat beading on your forehead, so close to the edge, walls quivering as you threatened to fall apart.

"Very well," Yunho pinched your nipples once more, "Go ahead and come for me, darling."

His words were all you needed, not knowing whose name to say as you clenched around Mingi's fingers, settling on a near-delirious cry of pleasure instead.

"That's my good girl." Mingi praised as he worked you through it before removing his fingers.

"So responsive," Yunho took Mingi’s hand - the one that had just been inside you - into his own, guiding it up to his lips, "Can't wait to hear it again when you're coming on my cock." He didn't let you respond before he was sucking Mingi’s fingers into his mouth, licking them clean of your essence. Mingi moaned at the sensation and heat curled in your abdomen as you watched them. "Mmh," Yunho pulled off, "I don't know how you ever keep your hands off her, Mingi."

"I don't." Mingi laughed. You smiled at how true it was. You found it impossible to keep from touching one another, and most days ended with Mingi’s head between your legs at minimum. He was a bit of a fiend. But you liked it. You had given him free access to you months ago, making your IUD work overtime with his insatiable appetite and propensity for finishing inside. 

“I'm lucky.” You preened. 

Mingi and Yunho corrected you at the same time, "I'm lucky.” “He's lucky.” 

The three of you couldn't help but laugh and you felt yourself feeling extremely fond of your boyfriend and his best friend. 

Yunho's eyes turned darker once again as his hands found your waist, looking at Mingi to ask, “Bedroom?” 

Mingi nodded, his gaze taking in every inch of you, “Let's go.”

You were about to hop down off the counter but before you could even move an inch, Yunho was tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs, pinning them to his chest. 

“Mmh,” Mingi grabbed a handful of your partially exposed ass cheek as it was now eye level up by Yunho's head, “I could get used to this sight.” 

Yunho placed you gently onto the middle of Mingi’s bed. The two of them looked at each other, standing close by the side of the bed, then turning to look at you, Mingi speaking first, “Do you think we should give her a little show?”

Yunho smiled, reaching for the hem of Mingi’s shirt, highlighting what the man had meant, “Whatever your princess wants.” 

“Yes, please.” You simpered from your spot on the bed. 

You wondered briefly if they had done this before, and judging by the way Yunho grazed his fingers over Mingi’s hip bones, looking like he knew exactly the reaction it would elicit, you assumed they had. Yunho pulled Mingi’s shirt over his head, kissing down his neck as Mingi reached for his shirt in turn. Pants were next, then they finally gave you what you wanted, the thing causing you to soak through your already wet underwear, closing the distance as their mouths fell on one another's. It was almost lewd how they licked at one another, messy and so fucking hot. You whimpered pathetically, wanting to touch yourself so badly at the sight of them making out in only their underwear, which were tented with matching massive erections. You had assumed Yunho was packing but the confirmation had your hands twitching towards your inner thigh instinctively. Mingi caught you from the corner of his eye, pulling back from Yunho's embrace, “Aw, my poor baby.” He removed his boxers and crawled into bed behind you, “Come here, Yunho, our sweet little y/n needs some attention.” 

Our. The word made your breath hitch. The implication that this could turn into something more permanent drove you wild with desire. Both of them. Mingi was more than enough, better than you had ever dreamed, all on his own. But if Yunho was interested and Mingi was open… you had to push the thought from your mind as Yunho finally revealed his beautiful flushed cock - maybe slightly longer than Mingi’s, but it was splitting hairs - and crawled into bed, situating himself between your thighs, finally removing your shorts and underwear as Mingi released you of your shirt, laying down beside you so he could kiss you and tend to your pert nipples with his mouth as Yunho's head plunged down between your bent knees, no fanfare needed as he started making out with your slick folds, his tongue lavishing your dripping hole before moving up to suck on your pounding clit. He came up for air, “Fuck, you taste incredible, honey.” 

His face was glistening with your arousal and you felt your hips buck absentmindedly at the sight of it, “Thank you, Yuyu.” You smiled coyly, feeling yourself blush at the compliment. His eyelids fluttered at the nickname.

Mingi's mouth popped off of your breast, “Show her what your fingers feel like, Yunho.” 

“My pleasure.” He kept his eyes on yours as his graceful fingers began toying with your aching clit before slipping down and diving into your eager cunt. 

“Fuck, Yunho-yah!” You cried. 

He was already working your clit with his tongue again, humming in amusement to your reaction. 

Mingi watched your eyebrows knit together in pleasure, fingers skimming your face to remove the sweaty strands that had fallen onto it, clearly entertained at the knowledge that you weren't far from releasing. “Yunho, I know she tastes amazing, but I think she wants the real thing, don't you, jagi?” 

“Yes, god, yes, please Yungi.” You had combined their names on accident in your altered state. 

“‘Yungi'” Mingi chuckled, quoting you, fond as ever, “That's cute.” He reached backwards, grabbing the lube (the edible kind, of course) out of his bedside table drawer, “You just got tested, right, Yunho? My baby likes to take it raw.”

“I did, I'm clean. I can pull it up on my phone if you want-” Yunho offered but you cut him off.

“No, I trust you, please just fuck me, Yunho-yah. I need you inside so bad.” You were begging but it didn’t cross your mind at all to feel embarrassed about it, especially given how hungry Yunho looked when he heard you whine his name. 

He applied the lube Mingi handed him. Not that you really needed it, but he was quite large, so you wouldn't say no to a little extra help. 

“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie.” He stroked his leaking cock as he positioned it at your entrance, “Can't wait to see it leak out of you.” He started pushing inside, the stretch felt almost overwhelming but you let yourself relax into it. 

“Then I'm gonna fuck it right back into you.” Mingi added, lips skimming your jawline, laughing softly as he saw your eyes roll back at the sensation, “Look at you, peach. Taking him so well.” 

Yunho finally seated himself fully, buried to the hilt, unable to resist rocking his hips immediately, “Fucking hell, honey. You feel amazing. So goddamn tight.” He glanced up at Mingi, “How do you not cum immediately every time? Jesus Christ.” 

Mingi chuckled, “Lots of practice.” His fingers traced down your flank and over to your clit, “Just wait until you feel her come on your cock. You'll never want anyone else again.” 

Your back arched off the bed as Yunho's movements gained momentum, gasping as he damn near hit your cervix. “Mmh, what was that, kitten? Does someone like it rough?” 

Mingi’s fingers matched Yunho's pace, “I could answer that for you but I think y/n should tell you.” He gave you a look that you read easily as him asking if you were still okay. You answered them both at the same time, “Yes, you can be a little rough with me. Please, Yunho.” Your hips bucked, matching his motion, “Put me in my place. Spank me if you want. Use me.” 

Yunho's pace picked up some more, “Fucking hell. Safe word?”

“Rosemary.” You and Mingi answered at the same time. 

And without any further ado, Yunho pulled out, flipped you to your stomach, hitched your hips up so you were on your knees, and took you from behind all in one go. Mingi had to readjust slightly, kneeling in front of you instead, so your head wasn’t bumping into his. He pet your hair lovingly, “So lovely like this, baby.”

“Why don’t you say thank you for the compliment by letting Mingi fuck that pretty pout of yours, darling?” Yunho’s cock was filling you so perfectly, dragging along your walls everywhere you needed him. You couldn’t manage anything more than a whimper in response. 

Yunho tsked, “I asked you a question, y/n.” His palm came down sharp, leaving a slight sting on your ass cheek. Your ass was nothing to scoff at, one of your best features, especially if you asked Mingi (and he was one to talk), but you couldn’t help but notice just how many square inches of skin were stinging from Yunho’s large hand. 

“I’m sorry,” You whined, lost in the sensation, “I’m sorry, sir.” You glanced down at your boyfriend’s delectable cock, a shiny pearl of precum sitting at the tip, begging to be licked up, “Yes, please let me taste you, Mingi.” 

Yunho leaned forward, grabbing your hair into his fist and guiding your head down, “Open wide, princess.” 

You were glad for all of the throat training Mingi had been doing with you as you began to swallow him down, licking all his sensitive spots as you went. “Mmh, god, your mouth was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, gagging slightly as you felt him hit your soft palate. 

Another sharp spank, “Sorry, I wasn’t spanking you for gagging, I just couldn’t resist. I don’t think you realize how hot it is when your ass jiggles like that.”

You almost laughed at his words, it was funny, with him having been so calm, collected, and dominant just a minute ago, you were reminded that at the end of the day, he's still just a horny 20-something year old man. 

Mingi’s hips bucked, bringing you back into the moment, “Look at you, baby. Taking both of us so well.” 

Yunho began fucking you genuinely then, his hand helping guide your head up and down Mingi’s length as the two of them did their best to match each other’s rhythm. 

Yunho’s other hand found its way around your front, toying deliberately with your clit. You whined at the sensation and it sent them both reeling. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Let go of Mingi so I can hear you scream my name, jagi. He needs to finish inside this pretty pussy anyways.” 

Mingi pulled out and Yunho let go of your hair, moving his hand to your throat instead, his fingers loose but still possessive.

“Yunho, I’m so close-” You managed. 

“Come with me,” His fingers picked up in speed, matching the pistoning of his hips, “Fuck, y/n-”

His hips stilled, cock quivering inside you as he pumped you so full that the excess spilled out around him. The sensation drove you over the edge, too, your walls clenching around him, milking him absolutely dry, calling out, “Yunho-yah!” Just as promised.

“Oh, that’s my good girl.” Mingi praised you as he watched, halfheartedly stroking himself. 

Yunho steeled himself after he worked you through your orgasm, pulling out and falling to the bed beside you rather than collapsing on your back, which you were grateful for as you laid back down, muscles spent from being in that position. 

“Holy hell.” Yunho panted, “I might be an addict.” 

Mingi chuckled as he moved from behind you, laying on your other side, “Join the club,” He kissed your temple, “You got one more in you, baby? You know I hate to stop before three.” He turned your head towards his face, kissing you sweetly on the mouth, mumbling on your lips, “Wanna clean up Yunho’s mess and then fuck it right back into you, sweetheart.”

You were nearly spent, but you craved your boyfriend so bad you thought you might cry, “Yes, please, Mingi. I want you.” 

Mingi maneuvered himself so he was bracing on top of you, kissing down your neck, “Plus, Yunho didn’t get to see your face when you came and he’s really missing out.”

Yunho kissed your cheek, “Can’t wait to see how good Mingi makes you feel.” 

Mingi kissed his way down your torso before you finally felt his tongue begin to lap up Yunho’s cum from your drenched core. “Mmh, you taste amazing even mixed with him.” Mingi praised before resuming the task at hand. His tongue was slow, almost lazy. Not focused on bringing you an orgasm so much as it was just exploring you, despite the fact that you knew he had you mapped out very well. Your hips started to rock slowly as his tongue fucked your tight hole, his nose providing the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. 

He pulled off and sat up, reaching down to apply lube to his achingly hard cock. You knew he wouldn’t last long, not after practically being edged earlier, but you were glad for the lube anyhow, especially given how hard Yunho had fucked you with his massive dick. 

Yunho’s hands traced lazy patterns over your expanse of skin, kissing you anywhere he could reach, almost absentmindedly, clearly just enjoying taking in the view. 

Mingi pressed in slowly, not having to do much as your cunt sucked him in with practiced ease. He let out a low moan, “Fuck, yes. There’s my girl. You were made for me. Take me so well.” 

“Feel so good, Mingi.” You sighed, your hips matching his pace perfectly, a dance you had danced together many times. He pressed your knees towards your chest, folding you in half to get the exact angle he knew you needed and so he could kiss you while he fucked into your sweet spot. 

Yunho’s fingers found your clit once more, helping you along as you and Mingi careened towards your releases. The sound your bodies made due to how wet you were was downright pornographic. 

“Mingi,” You moaned, “Gonna come, baby.” 

You knew he was close, too, knowing well the look on his face as he watched himself spear you over and over again. He looked up to meet your eyes, “Go ahead, baby. Let me have it.” 

This orgasm rolled over you slowly. Warm waves of pleasure rocking through your body. Incomprehensible pleasure, full head-to-toe shivers, your hands grabbing on to whatever they could reach, one on Mingi’s waist, the other on Yunho’s thigh. 

“Goddamn.” Yunho was mesmerized as he watched you, “You’re otherworldly.”

“She’s perfect.” Mingi grunted, hips bucking a few more times to ensure you had enough stimulation to give you a nice prolonged peak, finally letting himself go as he felt your aftershocks slow. “Fuck, y/n, baby-”

“Mmh, Mingi-” You loved how he felt when he came inside you. Filling you with warmth as he spilled his seed deep inside. The twitch of his cock against your walls at his release. It was heaven. 

“Feel better now that you’ve been bred by both of us, honey?”

You knew you couldn’t get pregnant, but the thought of it - being claimed by both of them in that way, was so goddamn hot to you. “Yes, sir. Thank you. S’ good.” You could barely make words come out of your mouth. Completely spent. 

Mingi pulled out, falling back to his spot beside you on the bed, caressing your face with his hand, “That’s our good girl.” 

“Mmh,” You hummed happily, “‘Our’ girl.”

Yunho chuckled, “I think she likes that.”

Mingi kissed your cheek, “She can have whatever she wants as long as she’s mine. I wouldn’t share her with anyone else, though.” 

“No, only Yuyu.” You sighed, reaching blindly for contact with him. 

“Only Yungi for our girl.” Mingi recalled the name you had coined accidentally earlier. 

Yunho kissed your temple, “Our girl.” 

After lots of cuddling and sweet talking to one another, you remembered the soup from earlier and given that you were all spent and starved, you dressed and filed into the kitchen to eat it. 

Somewhat out of the blue, Mingi looked at you and said what was on his mind, “Y/n. Move in with us.” 

Yunho perked up, “I love that idea.” 

“That wouldn’t be… too much?” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed by how excited the thought made you. 

“No, baby, it would be perfect. Your lease is up next month anyway, right?” Mingi knew he was right. 

“It is.” You nodded. 

“We’d love to have you. And not just for the sex.” Yunho smiled, “I, for one, really like you as a person. And obviously Mingi does, too.” 

“I love my baby as a person.” Mingi corrected him. 

“Plus, you practically live here already.” Yunho laughed. 

You didn’t have to think about it. Really, you had been hoping Mingi would offer soon as your lease end date approached. “Okay, yeah. If you’re sure, I’d love to.” 

“Will we be including Yunho in our… arrangements?” Mingi quirked an eyebrow at you, smile tugging at the corner of his pretty plush lips, “You can think about it, of course.”

“What arrangements?” Yunho looked between the two of you.

You felt your cheeks go red, “Um, we have a free use agreement.”

“Free use?” Yunho wasn’t quite understanding. 

Mingi cleared his throat, “There’s finer details we’ve worked out, but basically I’m allowed to take, use, fuck - whatever verbiage you want to use - y/n any time I want her without needing to ask. She of course can stop me any time, it’s not like a rape kink or anything.”

“It’s just kinda hot knowing it could happen any time and it takes the anxiety out of it for me, weirdly enough.” You hid your face in your hands, feeling bashful all of the sudden. 

Yunho’s hand reached over and stroked your wrist, “Hey, no, don’t be embarrassed, cutie. I get it. It sounds hot as fuck. We can discuss it after you move in-”

“No.” You looked up at him, knowing already what your answer would be. You found it too hot to be at their mercy as it was, “I want it. If you’re both comfortable.” You swallowed at how aroused you were getting at the mere thought of it, “I want you both to be able to use me any time you want.” 

Mingi looked at you with stars in his eyes, “How the hell did I get so lucky.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Yunho gaped at you, practically salivating. 

The three of you shared Mingi’s bed that night, not wanting to be away from one another quite yet. You awoke the next morning to Yunho’s face between your legs, pajama shorts pulled down your thighs, already having worked you halfway to an orgasm. Mingi stroking your chest lazily from beside you. 

Two boyfriends were definitely better than one.