#just because they are and ''seeing people tell me to dni hurts my feelings :(''

[saturdays--sun]

i am once again saying that there is nothing wrong with being a non-sharing selfshipper. there's nothing wrong with blocking people who share one (or multiple) of your f/os. there's nothing wrong with telling doubles not to interact with you. setting boundaries for yourself and your online space is a moral neutral and has nothing to do with being "insecure" or some other negative. if you find that insulting or belittling, that's on you; not on the person setting the boundary. quit trying to make non-sharers into bad guys.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[sexbot300]

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

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[reidrum]

I can't stop thinking munch!spencer x reader who's insecure about having thick thighs (it's me, I'm reader)

take a seat | s.r

hi thank u for requesting!! i tried to be ambiguous about reader’s size but if it doesn’t come across that way lemme know and ill fix it!!!

wc: 1.7k

cw: 18+ smut minors dni, afab reader, face sitting, munch!spencer my beloved, insecure!reader who i took to be a little self indulgent sorry, fluff, hurt comfort but no hurt lol

this is also not proofread sorry

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the thing about spencer is if you have any fear or qualm about anything, his main verbal form of comfort is information. and it’s not a bad thing, not at all. finding comfort in the facts is what spencer hopes to achieve when he spews his tidbits. it’s just, sometimes it’ll do more harm than good, or even worse, do nothing at all.

that’s where you’re at right now, sitting in spencer’s room with your legs tucked under you while he sits up at the head of the bed. the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, tie strewn somewhere in the room. you’re still fully clothed albeit in a loose t shirt and some panties. the want in his eyes is undeniable, his question still lingering in the air.

you weren’t exactly the most confident person, but was anyone really? did people really wake up in the morning, look at themselves in the mirror and say, ‘wow, i look beautiful today.”? tell themselves they’re going to have a good day because they said so?

so when you’d spent your whole life living in the shadows trying to blend in and just do your job, one day an ever observant spencer reid saw you struggling to carry your coffee and your bag into the bullpen and came to your rescue before it could spill all over you. you were a mumbling mess, uttering thank you’s and i’m so sorrys and i’ll be more careful next time. but his gaze on you was unwavering, even in the face of your uneasiness, and firmly but softly told you nothing was wrong, and suggested that maybe you and him should get coffee before work to avoid this rush next time.

falling in love with him was too easy after that.

spencer never failed to make you feel cherished, loved, safe, always going above and beyond to care for your needs and wants. the trust you had in him was immense and you knew he would never steer you astray.

so sitting in front of him on his bed while he adorns a small smirk asking, no telling, you to sit on his face, made you falter a bit.

“you want me, to sit on your face?”

he nods, “yeah.”

any thought you’ve ever had vanishes from your brain, “b—but, won’t it be uncomfortable? for you?”

“not at all.”

seeing spencer be surprisingly calm about this is having the opposite effect on you, creating the unsettlement in your gut. like he’s been thinking about this for while, has wanted you at his mercy in a way you haven’t experienced before, has thought through all the facts and possibilities and ruled with absolute certainty that this was what he wanted, needed. and right now your body is betraying your mind as the heat pools between your legs.

but that brain of yours, a blessing with its vast knowledge but a curse at how easily a single thought can send you into a deep spiral, is working overtime to convince you that this isn’t really what he wants.

he can see the cogs working overtime and scoots closer to you and places a comforting hand on your thigh to rub soothing shapes with his thumb, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“nothing i-“ you stop before you can get too deep.

his eyes look at you expectantly, luring you to continue.

“what if i hurt you?”

“that is literally impossible.”

“what if i suffocate you?”

“then that would be a great way to go out.” he chuckles.

you lightly slap his leg, “stop that.”

he gestures you closer to sit curled into his side, a comforting arm smoothing you up and down. “if you really don’t want to do it that’s okay i don’t want to push you, just want you to feel good s’all.”

you ponder for a minute, “…you would tell me if it’s too much right?”

“i would,” he nods, “but i won’t need to.”

he squeezes your hand in reassurance, and you remember that spencer reid would never lie to you.

which is why you say, “okay.”

his eyes light up like a carnival, “yeah?”

you take a deep breath, “yeah.”

“come here,” cupping your cheek to bring in and kiss you.

it starts off slow, deliberate. like he wants you to know how much he appreciates you placing your trust in his possession, and how gently and carefully he’s going to take care of it.

you hike a leg over his lap to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his lips mark you like a road map. he moves down your jaw and uses his nose to nudge your neck away, giving him better access to litter the skin with love bites.

the moans spilling from your mouth spur him on, he starts subconsciously bucking his hips up causing you to grow restless for more.

he senses this and motions for you to lift up on your knees above him so he can slide his body down flat between your legs. the warm palms of his hands rest where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

you look down at the sight of him laid out for you, and catch his shit eating grin staring back. the dichotomy this position gives you with a sense of power to be over him like this but the vulnerability at feeling so exposed caused a swirl of emotions for you.

“hey,” he squeezes his palms laid on your ass, “if this is a lot, that’s okay.”

“no, no.i think i want this. i’m just scared.” you softly admit.

“nothing to be scared of, angel. it’s not like i haven’t eaten you out before, it’s just a different position,” his hands move closer to your core, “let me make you feel good, please.”

you stare into his eyes once more, being met with nothing but trust and lust for you. with a deep breath, you nod your head.

he smirks again, “alright sweetheart, take a seat.”

you slowly inch your body up his own, hearing him outwardly groan as your cunt came into his line of sight.

“jesus fuck, you have the prettiest pussy.”

you preen at his words once you’ve reached the position, and you hover in hesitation. he wraps his arms under and around your legs and gently pulls you down.

and he attacks you like a man starved. his tongue licking a full stripe up your cunt, letting it swirl around your clit. the feeling is so intense in this position you have to lean forward and brace yourself on the headboard.

with a gasp you whine out his name, “oh my god, fuck.” he continues to use his tongue to barrel you towards your peak, knowing exactly where to touch and lick to rile you up.

he can tell you’re still holding back, feeling the tense muscles in your upper thighs harden under his touch. with a sharp tug he pulls you to be seated fully on his face, and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through your whole body.

you’re fully at his mercy now, held down by his large hands and his mouth working so hard to make you see stars. the pleasure is overtaking all of your senses, when you look down to meet his eyes they’re staring right back at you, reveling in your ecstasy. a languished moan leaves you as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.

he laps up your arousal with urgency, tongue moving in such a delicate and intricate way you would think he’s writing a love letter with it.

the coil in your gut starts to tighten and you can feel your peak coming fast, “spence…” you whine.

he hums in response, silently acknowledging what you mean. one more slow lick up and down your slit was all it took to push you overboard. the endorphins rush over you like a tsunami as you try to ride out the wave of your orgasm.

spencer doesn’t stop his motions and continues to work your overly sensitive clit, gripping your legs tighter to him as he prevents you from escaping.

“shit, oh god baby, you need to st—stop.” you brokenly moan out. you tug on his hair hard as you try to release his grip on you, and after a few minutes he takes pity and lets you go.

you let out a big and tired sigh as you flop to the side of him, one leg still draped over him as you’re both panting heavily, attempting to come down from the heat of the moment.

he smoothes out the leg over him with his hand and turns to face you, face plastered with a stupid grin and glistening with you.

“see? that wasn’t so bad.”

you scoff breathlessly, “i think maybe you’re trying to kill me.”

“maybe,” he laughs, “ but you liked it right?”

you nod bashfully, “did you…like it?”

his eyes widen, “are you kidding? you looked so hot it drove me insane. you’re always so beautiful but having you like that…i like making you feel good, it makes me feel really good, and that is a win-win.”

you smile at him and move closer to fit under his arm and into his side, your hand resting on his chest. he tightens his arm around you and whisper, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you say through hooded eyes. your hand starts trailing lower, “must have been really good for you seeing how painful this looks.” you softly say, gesturing to the aching bulge in his boxers, the dark patch stained by precum.

his breath hitches as you inch closer, “baby, no it’s okay. you don’t have to do th—“ the sentence gets cut off when your hand gives him a tentative squeeze.

“i don’t have to, but i want to. i should thank you somehow for making me feel so good,” your voice dropping an octave in lust, “will you let me show my thanks, honey?”

you stare at him with the sultriest doe eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s thoroughly convinced in that moment that you are, in fact, trying to kill him.

still a great way to go out, he thinks.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Ace’s fingers are sturdy, thick, rough, and dazzlingly accessible. When he realizes how you feel about them, will he ever let you live it down? ~1.9k words.

CW: SMUT! Afab reader, gendered pet names (“princess”), body worship, fingering, and praise.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Ace caught you staring at his hand one day when the two of you were killing time on deck.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? What are you looking at?” He picked up the hand in question and brought it to his face, inspecting for whatever it could be that made your eyes stick there. Maybe a bug?

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just... looking.” Your blushed and immediately averted your eyes. He quickly realized that you were admiring his hands.

“Oh?” That classic, cheeky grin crept over his lips. “You like what you see?”

“Shut up.” You were crimson now. Was it that easy to read you?

“What? C’mon.” Ace poked you playfully in the side.

“Nothing. Your hands are nice. That’s all.” You tried to dismiss his wheedling curiosity, but Ace’s cocky grin got cockier.

“Oooh. I see. What about ‘em?”

“God, are you really going to make me say it?” You rolled your eyes and he nodded. He loved it when you complimented him, and he was shameless about it. “They’re nice, Ace. That’s all.”

“What about my fingers?” He tilted his head, and his expression was cocky and knowing, but still sweet.

Your mouth went dry. His ability to read you was uncanny and, honestly, a bit concerning. Your eyes darted down to the alluring fingers in question. Sturdy, gorgeous, long, veiny… fuck.

His gaze tracked yours and he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

You tried to answer like you were unbothered by the teasing, like you weren’t flustered, but you failed. “Your fingers are nice, too. Now can we drop the subject? Please, Ace.”

Ace laughed and didn’t say anything more about it. He knew you were shy about this sort of stuff in front of other people. You still flushed with embarrassment, unsure how much of that interaction was overheard by the crew, given that multiple people were within a ten-foot radius… but Marco definitely heard, because he snickered. He was going to be annoying about it later, you could already tell.

Ace loved to tease you. He thought it was endearing and darling whenever you got flustered—it was just too easy to make you blush, and you looked too good blushing to hold back.

Later that night, you were sitting around a table with a sizable group for dinner. Ace sat across from you, flashing his warm, dark eyes and knocking his thigh against yours under the table. “C’mon, pretty. Let’s go.”

You rose from the table and followed Ace to his cabin, like you usually did after you finished your evening meal. You could tell that he was ready and roaring to go because he was barely trying to conceal his erection when he got up from the table. It escaped everyone else’s attention, although he certainly wasn’t being sly about it.

Ace led you down the hallway by your hand. When you finally got to his cabin, he closed and locked the door, then pinned you to the wall and showered you in kisses. His lips were eager and passionate, hands roaming every part of your body they could access.

“Now what did you like about my hands and fingers earlier, baby?” He pulled away and held his face centimeters away from yours. “I’m curious. Please?”

“Fuck, Ace. They’re just nice and big.” You squeaked out the last couple words because his hands squeezed your ass roughly.

“Oh yeah?” Ace smiled and his nose scrunched up. Those freckles could melt your heart even when you were in the worst (or most bashful) of moods. “Why didn’t you say that earlier, pumpkin?”

“Embarrassed,” you let out a whimper as one of his hands squeezed one of your breasts so hard it hurt.

“No need to be embarrassed, beautiful. Now let’s get these off.”

Ace helped you out of your clothes until you were standing in front of him naked. He was fully clothed still, and you felt a little self-conscious, but you quickly realized what he was after.

He began to pass his hands from your wrists up to your shoulders, paying close attention to where he touched and how softly. Goosebumps raised on your skin, trailing after his delicate caresses.

Ace felt every inch of you, eyes glued to where his palms met your skin. The admiration was reciprocal—you looked down at where his large veiny hands touched you, and he was entranced by how soft and supple your skin was under his rough, long fingers.

It’s like he was worshipping you. He took his time, going slowly from your shoulders, sliding his fingers up your neck, down your clavicles, spending a few moments feeling your breasts, creeping down your ribs… He worked your whole body sensually, drinking in every inch of your skin, all the way down to your ankles.

You caught yourself holding your breath and had to manually inhale and exhale for a moment. You were too wrapped up in him—the way he was so, so focused, the way his rich, dark hair and freckles shifted as he petted you carefully and slowly.

It was making you aroused, yes, but also you were just in awe of this man who was treating you like something holy and invaluable.

His fingers traced aimlessly for many minutes as he worshipped your skin. When they finally ceased, he had one hand on your cheek.

He swiped the finger pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and gave you a soft kiss. “You really like my fingers that much, sugar?”

You nodded shyly again, and he smiled. “Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was getting at, but as you opened your mouth, Ace slid his middle and ring finger onto your tongue. Instinctively, you closed your lips around his fingers and started to suck.

He groaned. “Fuck, that’s it.”

His erection was straining against his shorts, pressing onto your naked skin as you sucked his fingers and made eye contact with him. When you increased the suction and made your cheeks hollow, the tent in his shorts twitched.

He gently pulled his fingers out of your mouth and they crept downwards to rest on your core. You were already immensely turned on, sopping wet and throbbing with need.

“What do you want me to do with my fingers, princess?” Ace’s voice was honey-coated, smooth, and dripping with lust.

“Inside, Ace,” you whimpered. “Put them inside.”

“You want me to finger fuck you?” He purred and pressed his already-wet middle and ring fingers into the sticky valley between your thighs, mixing your own saliva with your arousal.

You hummed in affirmation, and he hooked his fingers up through your folds, entering you as you whined quietly.

Ace’s fingers felt thick inside of you. They always felt thick, but it was emphasized by the fact that you’d been dreaming of this particular moment all day. Pressed inside of you, his digits were remarkably stocky, broad, and rough. Ace removed his free hand from where it was still resting on your cheek and brought it down to palm at his cock.

You were starting to ooze slick on his fingers already, gushing as he curled his fingers and explored your aching core.

“Ace, fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned quietly and his cock jumped. He grinded his palm over it harder, letting out his own gasp of pleasure at the sensation.

“Does it, baby?” He cooed, staring down at where his fingers wiggled and disappeared into you. “You like my fingers that much, sweetheart? Why don’t you fuck yourself with ‘em? Find that soft spot of yours and make yourself feel good.”

Ace held still, prompting a desperate sound to escape your lips. Without a second thought, you began to rock back and forth, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you and dragging them back out, angling your hips over them until you pressed his fingertips onto your g-spot. As you rolled onto his fingers greedily and your moans got louder, your thighs started to shake.

“God, you’re hot. Needy little pussy, so tight and wet for me.” Ace’s voice was low and gravelly as he took his cock out of his shorts and started to stroke himself slowly. “Keep going, gorgeous.”

You grinded on his fingertips, pressing on your own hot spot repeatedly until you were arching your back and screwing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“More, Ace, fuck,” you whined. “Need more.”

“Awh, do you?”

Ace’s hand left his leaking cock, and he brought his thumb to draw lazy circles over your clit. Your hips bucked, disrupting the rhythm you had built while got yourself off.

“Falling apart, sweet thing? Tell me what you like about them again. It sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth.”

You almost couldn’t focus enough to talk. Every time his thumb grazed your sensitive bud, your hips jerked forward.

“B-big,” you moaned desperately, and the sound went straight to his cock. “They’re so b-big and—fuck, Ace—so big and rough. Feels good.”

“There we go, angel. Good job using your words. You look so lovely when you’re fucked out like this.”

“Ace, more,” you begged him with lust-crazed eyes. “Want you.”

He obliged, leaning over you with his fingers still inside your cunt and rubbing on your clit. He latched his lips around one of your nipples as you writhed on him. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue and biting delicately—you were reeling in ecstasy.

“Ace—fuck, I’m close.”

Usually, he made you wait a while to orgasm. He would edge and tease you until you were on the verge of tears. But today he was so worked up that he was going to let you cum right off the bat—it was one step closer to putting his cock in you. He was counting down the seconds.

He curled his fingers again, taking the lead. He started to press on your g-spot rhythmically, indulging you farther by pulsing heat in your cunt with his devil fruit powers. It felt so good that almost started crying in pleasure. It took everything in you not to topple over from your shaking legs and crumple on him.

Ace groaned with satisfaction and want as you squirmed from his touch. Precum seeped over the head of his inflamed cock and dripped in slow rivulets down his length. “Mmmm, keep going. Cum on my fingers. Then I’ll stuff my cock in you. You want that?”

You nodded, and at the same time, Ace started to scissor his fingers curl them faster. “Fuck, Ace, fuck, fuck, ‘m cumming I’m—fuckkkk.”

You hit your breaking point, spasming in euphoric bliss as you came on Ace’s fingers.

“Does it feel good? Look at me.”

You struggled to even open your eyes, and his wrist kept moving. It was almost too much, but you kept riding the blistering wave of your orgasm on his fingertips, drawing your climax out and shaking with every second. “F-feels so good, Ace.”

When he finally pulled his fingers out of you, he sucked them clean and pulled you by your hand to the bed.

“Ok beautiful, c’mere. Let me do all the work.”

😐😐🤒 i need his fingers in me stat or im going to start screaming in the streets and biting people. idk. something drastic 🥴😇 feeling unhinged today! ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

here's my masterlist and here's my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[itsmearia01]

Past Love || Chapter 1

Various! Yandere! Jujutsu kaisen x Sukuna's past wife! Yuji's best friend! F! Reader

A/N : English is not my first language, sorry if there are some wrong words. This is the chapter 1, you can read the prologue and Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Prolog | Chapter 2

Series summary : You always get the same nightmare over and over every night. You feel annoyed but can't do anything about it. On the other hand, your best friend who suddenly becomes the vessel of a cursed king brings your nightmares to reality. I don't know what happened but the people around you started acting strangely.

Series warnings : Non-con, dub-con, yandere, stalking, kinks, gaslighting, blackmail, overtism, smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, all character 18+ (but first years still first year, try to make sense), sex, rough sex, oral sex, dom/sub dynamics, blood, manipulation, corruption, mind break, forced relationship, yandere character being their own warning, mind control, possessive, kidnapping. ⚠️Jujutsu kaisen character was not my original, credit to Gege Akutami as original author! There's a few OC as my originally made character. If you don't like/ you hate this kind of story, please go.

You are grateful because last night you prepared bento and breakfast you made by yourself for your father and your brothers. And even though you're in a rush, you don't forget to bring your lunch.

And you brought 2 bento. One for you and one for your best friend, Yuji Itadori. Yes, you are itadori's best friend or what you usually call Yuu. How are you not attracted to him? He's totally your type. He is gentle, kind, compassionate, and patient.

During lunch time, you visit his class. But did not find him. Someone from his class said he was on the field with the sports club members.

"Yuu!" You scream his name and he looks up.

He smiled and ran towards you. "(Y/N) Sorry I didn't tell you I was here."

Yuuji approached you. he explains his paranormal club is about to be disbanded and he needs to win the bet so that doesn't happen. "Really? You ask, with a worried face. "yeah, but don't worry bun. I win it!" He said with big smile on his face. You both sigh together and you both chuckling and laughing together.

It doesn't feel like you have arrived at the paranormal club room. There are also your two senpais. You all eat your bento together and you fall asleep.

"HAH-HAH-HAH- That dream again! W-wait where is Yuu and everyone else?" You woke realizing you're the only person there. And it's late, the sun replaced by the moon. You quickly grabbed your bag and rushed out. You searched the corridor hoping to find Yuuji. You think, why didn't Yuu wake you up and instead leave you? It's already night and the atmosphere is very quiet...

You can't help but get goosebumps.

BRAK!

You suddenly hear a loud sound. What's that? It comes from above. You see someone you don't know black hair boy. Suddenly something hit that person...

YUJI!

"YUU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING." you run towards your boyfriend but soon stopped when he looked at you. “T-that mark!”

That's Sukuna's mark! The one who's always on your dream.

"(Y/N)? You-Y-you (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

"S-sukuna..."

He approached you and you slowly back off to the edge of the building, you looked down and just swallowed done. "DON'T HURT HER!" say a boy behind Sukuna. Sukuna heeded the remark and Pressed your cheek with his hand. "Do you remember me, my dear (Y/N)?"

BRAK!

Suddenly someone kicks Sukuna from the side and pulls you in his arms when you almost fell off building. "Didn't I say to protect civilians, Megumi?” said that person. It turns out a black hair boy named Megumi.

You continue to see the person who is still hug you. Tight. White hair...

"Y-you're a member of the Gojo clan?" that person looking back at you. "How do you know, Princess?"

"We don't have much white hair in this country." You say. And he hummed. I don't know why you feel nervous to see, his smile more feels like a smirk.

"Hmm, interesting... What's your name beautiful princess?" he asked.

"(Y/N), my name is (Y/N) (L/N)"

When you say that he's a little surprised… Then his grin grew wider, wider than before as if he had just heard the most heartbreaking news his life.

"(L/N) huh? Is this fate? The Gojo family and (L/N) are business partners and establish close relationship." You freak out a little as he grabs your chin and gets closer to your face.

"So (Y/N), my name is Gojo Satoru. I was a jujutsu high tokyo teacher. Nice to meet you, Princess."

His face is getting closer and your lips almost touching, but prevented by black-haired boy around your age that you know his name is Megumi. "S-sensei..." he said while walking away balance towards you. he held stomach and as if awakening from hypnosis, You remember Yuji.

"YUU!" You screamed approaching Yuji releasing yourself from the young Gojo's arms. You approached Yuji's body that was lying down unaware. You see the wounds all over his body.

You took your hands out and placed them on Yuji's stomach. Light goes out from your hand and slowly closes and heal the wounds on his body. Megumi and Gojo looked at that with impressed. well, there are who have similar power, but nothing that really looks like a naked eye light produce.

——————————————————————

You keep pacing back and forth in front of the room... You've already healed Megumi and are now waiting for Gojo and Yuji who are in the room.

"why are you so worried?" You were awakened by Megumi's voice. "I don't know... I'm just worried about Yujl..." You saw his expression soften and he smiled. Somehow you feel that's not a face he usually shows to other people.

"As long as there is Gojo Sensei, we will be safe... After all, we haven't met yet. My name is Megumi Fushiguro, what's your name?"

You're reminded of something... "Fushiguro-san? Have we met before?"

"Hmm? I do not think so? Why do you think so?"

"The only Megumi I've ever known in my life was from the Zenin clan..."

He flinched at your words and seemed to be trying to remember something.

"Could it be you... (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

You look at him confused when he suddenly looks at you with surprise. "Um... Yeah? Do you remember anything?"

"That's right, it's me! Megumi Zenin... I left Zenin and became Fushiguro... Do you remember when the Zenin family and (L/N) had a meeting? We always played together."

You look surprised, a happy childhood memory... "You're a Gumi?!"

"Shhh... Slow down, that call is a little embarrassing..." He said while his hand covered your mouth. He let go of his gag. He looks so cute with his blushing face, you think he's so embarrassed by that nickname.

"I think we meet again, (N/N)..." Megumi said. When you heard the call you chuckled. It was a call from megumi for you first.

"Hmm? What do we have here? You guys knew each other before?" The young Gojo comes out of the room where you guys are waiting, along with Yuji of course. You with teary eyes lunged at Yuu, hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Yuu! You don't know how worried I was!" You started crying while hugging Yuu. He hugs you back. Megumi and Gojo find the two of you a little displeased.

You two... are too close to be called friends. "I'm fine (Y/N)! Did the creature hurt you?" He kissed your cheek back making the two people watching you bend their faces even more.

"You mean Sukuna? No! He didn't hurt me. But..." You remember when Sukuna held your face. It feels weird, like deja vu.

"Megumi, did you tell Sukuna's name to (Y/N)-chan?" Gojo asked, caught your attention and Yuji. "No... I didn't tell her." After Megumi said that, Gojo who had been sullen smirk widely. "Then I think, not only Yuji who will move to high jujutsu."

After that you and Yuji visited your senpais to say goodbye. gojo-sensei already spoke with your Papa that you're moving to jujutsu high.

Your papa is worried about you because all this time he has been trying to hide you from becoming a jujutsu wizard which is a dangerous job. But yeah, maybe it's about time.

At the end of the day you and Yuji visit Yuji's grandfather's grave to ask for blessings. Next will be fun right?

Right?

To be continued

Tags : @loaves4me @carminhadaavenidabrasil

A/N : hello everyone! thank you for all your excitement for my series! i'm working on the third chapter rn and i expecting this series would be 15 chapter? im still not sure, it can be change. but since i have other things to do in my life i would post the next chapter if i finish all of it till epilog. So, while you all waiting. Since i also read manhwa, playing hoyoverse games, and watching other anime, i'm gonna post short scenarios of those (mostly yandere tho hahahaha)

[marvelouslizzie]

You're My Desire - Co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, first date, public sex, ripped clothing, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: We really don't have an excuse for this one. We just wanted 40s Bucky to have a good time, you know? This is basically smut with little bit of plot.

Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's also a Bucky Barnes writer and her stories are amazing.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it's hate. That's never welcome.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Even though you really didn’t want to, you find yourself on a double date with your best friend. She literally begged you to come because she promised she would bring someone for her date’s best friend and apparently she really doesn’t wanna disappoint the handsome soldier.

You're shocked, though, when you arrive at the fair and see Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the flesh waiting for you two at the gate.

You were pretty sure she brought you here for Bucky Barnes but it turns out your date is actually Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself.

You don't know what to do at first, awkwardly watching your friend hugging Bucky as if they knew each other for ages. Even though they met just a day ago. Steve extends his hand politely, which you immediately shake.

It doesn’t take long for you to go inside the fun fair together while chatting casually. Your friend, Cassie, starts asking questions about the war. She loves front-line stories, but Bucky doesn’t seem like he enjoys telling them.

Steve, on the other hand, is very excited to do it, answering all of Cassie's questions as you quietly watch them. You wonder why you said yes to this date. You've never been into soldiers and even less into war discussions. But you love your friend very much even when she ignores you.

You find yourself looking at Bucky while Cassie and Steve start to chat and exchange stories. He kinda seems amused by this development. You shrug looking in his direction, waiting for him to say something. After all, you are both already bored and your friends don't even seem to care or notice you anymore in the first place.

Bucky just smiles and then tries to change the subject. You think he actually handles that topic change pretty smoothly and it sticks for a while until Cassie gets bored of talking about books.

You remark Bucky's sad face, but you don't say anything. Instead, you subtly start to walk slower, hoping he'll do the same. As Cassie keeps talking to Steve, Bucky notices you are getting behind and just slows down a little.

"You're okay? Are your legs hurting?" Bucky asks concerned while looking at her shoes.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just got tired of the war stories, that’s all.” You keep walking slowly.

"Me, too." He sighs. "It's a never-ending subject at this point."

“Well, where there's life there's hope.” You quote the Hobbit instinctively. You hold on to the hope, one day you won’t have to talk about this war.

Bucky gasps, looking at you in a way you never experienced before. "What did you say?"

“I just said where there's life there's hope.” You repeat, surprised by the way he probably recognized the quote. People usually have no idea what you are referring to. Not him though.

"You're a fan? Oh god!"

That starts your actual conversation with Bucky Barnes. It turns out he’s a big bookworm himself. He reads as much as he can, always buying more books that he manages to read.

You didn't even realize how close you are until your shoulders slightly brush. You blush when he smiles, clearly not minding. Still, you feel very conscious about your closeness and quickly look toward your friend, feeling guilty that you are enjoying the company of her date, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit. On the contrary, she’s actually holding Steve Rogers’ arm while talking and laughing.

"You're very beautiful." You hear Bucky murmur shily.

His compliment catches you off guard. You were about to apologize on behalf of Cassie. Yet you find yourself blushing.

"And you love reading. I am a lucky man. I get to talk to you."

“I could say the same thing myself, Sergeant. I much rather talk about books instead of the war.”

"Then you got the right company." Bucky smiles and looks around. "Should we get some ice cream?"

“That would be amazing.” And that’s how you end up separated from Cassie and Steve. Bucky informs them about their plan and then leaves without waiting for them.

You spend the next hour talking and walking around the entire fair. James even won a teddy bear for you. Once in a while both of you act like you wanna find Steve and Cassie, but you definitely don’t care.

"I don't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and good with someone."

“I’m glad I’m not boring the shit out of you.” You know it’s not ladylike to speak this way, but you feel comfortable around him. It’s crazy when you consider you just met him maybe two hours ago.

Bucky smiles. "I can say the same. Steve says I'm quite boring."

“He’s quite boring himself.”

"Is he?" He snorts.

“Yeah. Who knew Captain America would be into war stories?”

"Doesn't the name say it?" He continues in the same joking tone.

“The name suggests he’s heroic and boring but he’s more boring and less heroic than expected. Stealing his best friend's date doesn’t scream honorable to me.”

Bucky is shocked to see her indirectly standing up for him. "Maybe I stole his date, though."

“His date was uninterested from the start and just being nice to her best friend.”

"Is she still uninterested?"

“In him? Yes.” You act like you don’t understand what he is actually asking.

"Well, the feelings are mutual. About the date and now…"

“You were uninterested in Cassie?” You say it in a way that shows you don’t believe him.

"Wasn't it obvious?"

“Nope.” It definitely wasn’t when they hugged each other the moment they arrived.

"I was trying to be polite. She insisted on this… meeting because I helped her out. I was relieved I could bring Steve."

“She sounded very interested in you until Captain Rogers started with war stories.”

"She was staring at his… back ever since we arrived."

You burst out laughing and he joins you right after. It sets the tone for the rest of the night and makes you notice you both don’t give a shit.

*

"I want to show you something," you say after a few seconds and quickly drag him after you until you reach a darker alley close to the last attraction. You drop the teddy bear carefully at your feet. "Hi."

“Hi.” He still seems a bit confused, but it’s so cute. He looks at the teddy bear and then his eyes turn back to your face. You can’t help but smile.

"You're so cute. Has anyone told you that?" You smile in return.

He acts like thinking for a second. “No, not really. Just cute?” He fishes for more.

"And smart." You touch his chest shily. "And kind."

“Hmm, those are not what people notice first.” He moves a little bit closer. “You have something…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, his thumb brushes the corner of your lips. You wait for him to wipe off whatever you had on your face before opening your mouth and letting your tongue touch his finger shamelessly.

You watch Bucky’s eyes widen out of surprise. He didn't expect that at all. You grab his hand, bringing his finger inside your mouth, and notice how his breathing quickens. Yet he doesn’t stop you.

You let your tongue play for a few seconds until you let his finger go with a small bite. He lets out the lowest moan but not only do you hear it, but you also love it.

"Wow, I…" He doesn't know what to say, all red and excited.

“You what? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excited? I mean, I can stop if you want.”

In response, brave and happy, Bucky kisses you. His tongue is already on your bottom lip asking for permission, which you grant by opening your mouth without realizing it.

The kiss isn’t shy like you expected, and he definitely knows how to kiss. The way his lips and tongue move makes you want more, right then and there.

Your hands go to his neck as you let yourself enjoy the kiss even more. You keep kissing until you feel breathless. When Bucky breaks it, he doesn’t move away. His forehead touches yours as you try to catch your breath.

"This was…"

“I wanna do something if that’s okay…” You say while suddenly getting on your knees. You are wearing your favorite nylon stockings and you're sure they are gonna get ripped, but you don't care.

Bucky thinks he's daydreaming because how can this happen? How?

"What? What are you doing?"

“I think you know what I am doing, Sergeant. Just tell me to stop if you don’t want it, okay?” Your hands move to his belt but you wait for a reaction first.

"Stop. That's not… you don't have to do this. We are having a great time anyway."

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Is that okay for you?”

He can only nod, totally shocked and excited at the same time.

You unbuckle him slowly. Even though you are in a public place, you're in no hurry. You unzip him while looking into his eyes. When you finally take him out of his pants, he seems speechless. He’s already hard, but as soon as you start to move your hand, he gets rock hard after maybe four pumps.

"Jesus, you're so pretty. You look like a doll on your knees."

You smile proudly. “Tell me what I look like when I do this,” you say before taking him inside your mouth.

He closes his eyes, groaning. Your mouth is so wet and warm. You take it slow at first. Your mouth moves gently while you swirl your tongue around the head.

"Please." You hear him whisper, his left hand resting against the wall behind him.

You move your mouth away from him just to ask “Please what?” Your lipstick is already a little smudged.

"Oh god, keep going. Please, you're such a pretty sight."

“Tell me how I look when you're inside my mouth and I'll continue, promise.” You wink and remind him he still hasn’t fulfilled your request.

"Like a dream. Like a goddess."

“Hmm…” You go back to taking him inside your mouth without making another comment. This time, you move a bit faster than before and start using your hand.

"Your mouth will be the death of me."

That makes you smile but you don’t stop, moving your hand and mouth at the same time, hoping for a good reaction. His hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it enough to pull a little. That encourages you to go faster, in need for a tighter grip. And you get it: soon, he wraps more of your hair around his whole fist, moaning your name.

“I think I'm gonna…” He sounds so breathy. “You should pull away.”

You look at him, acknowledging his warning, but showing him you are ignoring it. You keep moving fast, making sure your tongue flicks around the right spot every time until he spills inside your mouth. It’s a lot more than you are used to, but you still keep going until he completely empties himself. You take your mouth off, looking into his eyes before swallowing.

"No." He covers his eyes while groaning. "You can't do this to me, doll. Jesus…"

“Do what?” You innocently ask.

He doesn't answer you, taking you by the back of the neck and kissing you sloppily. You don’t get a chance to warn him about the taste and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He groans into your mouth when he feels your hands on his ass and breaks the kiss just to suck on your neck.

Then you feel his hands between your bodies, trying to pull up his pants again.

You break the kiss to ask: “What are you doing?”

"I'm putting on my pants," he sounds like a kid. "And I wanna get on my knees for you, too."

“Maybe I want something else that doesn’t require you to put your pants on.”

He nods, without understanding what you mean. "Alright. I'll just-" He drops his right hand until it reaches her skirt. "Is it okay?" You nod with a smile. Even though it’s not what you meant, it’s fine.

His fingers immediately go to your underwear and push it aside.

"Fuck me. Look at that." You are really wet and his curses don't help either. "Soaked. Is that for me, doll?"

“No, it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me.” You joke.

You feel his fingers stopping on your slit as he lifts his head. "What did you say?"

“I said it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me. You know that gets the girls wet.” You hope he won’t be offended by this. It’s just a silly joke.

In response, Bucky pushes a finger inside you quickly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Should I start talking about war, too? Bet that would get you even wetter."

You let out a deep breath, relieved. Thank God he isn’t offended. “That would get me dry as a desert, Sergeant Barnes.”

"Should I dye my hair then?" He snorts, moving his finger faster.

“Maybe you should get a shield. It would definitely look better on you.”

"A shield, huh?" Bucky adds another finger, trying to scissor them inside you a couple of times. "Is it too much?"

“Nope,” you say after a moan. “It’s not enough.”

"Fuck, you…" he closes his eyes. "You want another?"

“I want something else.” You smile, hoping him to understand this time.

"Yeah? Like what?"

You grab his cock and gently rub it without saying a word. You are not surprised he’s hard because his erection has been pressed on your leg for a while.

"Fuck. You want my cock, baby?"

“Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t let you pull your pants back up?”

"I don't-" He moans. "I didn't think."

“Come on. You are making me wait while I’m soaking your fingers.”

"Wanna make you…" Bucky interrupts himself by adding a third finger, his other hand going to your clit. "Happy."

“Fuck.” You throw your head back, that felt so good.

"You like this?" He rubs a little more, paying attention to your body. His fingers inside you keep the same pace, though. He isn't slowing down now even if it's the end of the world.

“Yeah, that.” You breathe out. You already feel your legs shaking and you're afraid your knees might give out, but it feels so good, you can’t seem to focus on the concerns.

"Hold on to me."

You put your hands on his shoulders and it helps you relax a bit more. After that, your orgasm comes crashing in like a big wave that leaves you breathless. He doesn't stop moving his fingers until you finish coming, then he slowly pulls them out, making sure to lick them before kissing you.

“You are such a dirty soldier, Sergeant Barnes,” you say with a smile.

"What is dirty about this?" He shrugs. "I'm a good soldier, of course."

“Doing this in a dark alley with me and licking your fingers clean like that. Very good soldier, indeed.”

"Ihm." He buries his head right onto your shoulder and breathes in. "Thank you."

“For what?” You find yourself kissing his hair while asking the question.

"For this evening and this. Thank you for trusting me."

“You are something else, Bucky,” you say while caressing his hair.

"Hmm?"

You kiss his hair and his ear, then move your lips to his neck. “You can thank me later. We are not done yet.”

"Changed your mind?" He smiles. "Want me on my knees after all?

“Maybe later.” You wink. “Now don’t act like you don’t know what I want because I know you want it, too.”

He freezes. "Wait, you're serious?"

“Of course I am serious. Just don’t finish inside, okay?”

He looks at you again all serious. "Are you sure? We don't have to, I can use my tongue."

“Don’t worry, it’s not my first time and yeah, I’m sure unless you don’t want to.”

Bucky looks at you with puppy eyes. "Uhm, it's my first time."

“Oh god.” Your eyes widen. “I… didn’t consider… that possibility. I’m sorry.”

Bucky starts laughing at your worried expression and kisses your cheek. "My first time with a bookworm doll."

You punch his shoulder. “You worried me!”

That makes him laugh even harder, and you can't help but smile. Because he's extra beautiful like this.

"Why? Do you have something against innocent boys, ma'am? Shame!"

“No, nothing against it. Absolutely would love to teach and corrupt but wouldn’t want that to be your first time.”

"You don't want to take advantage of me, huh? Such a good girl." He surprises you by suddenly lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his torso.

“Would you like me to take advantage of you?” You kiss his jaw and cheeks.

"Fuck, yes. Yes."

“Then you have my permission to take advantage of me, too.”

He doesn't ask you again if you're sure. Instead, he lifts his right hand to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it as fast as he can. He's so impatient he even manages to rip a button. You just watch him work and smile, hoping the gentleman side of Bucky finally stops holding him back.

He groans at the sight of your hard nipples and quickly leans in to take one in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper while he uses his tongue to play with your nipple. It feels so good you don't even notice when his hand drops under your skirt. Until you hear the ripping sound.

“What the fuck?” You can’t believe he's just ripped your nylon stockings. They are so hard to find and so expensive!

"Whha?" He doesn't even take his mouth off your nipple as he speaks.

“Do you know how expensive those stockings are?” Your surprise is so clear in your voice. “You owe me a pair of nylon stockings, Sargeant.”

"They were in the way, baby."

“Getting impatient?” You mock a little.

He pushes his hips a little more. "Can't you feel?"

“You still owe me a pair.”

"What about these?" His hands are now on her panties. "How many do I need to buy you so I can rip these off?"

“Just one pair, but if you wanna rip that one, too, this cycle might never end.”

He sighs, contemplating, but he finally decides not to, only pushing your underwear aside. "How do you want it?"

“What do you mean?”

Bucky takes another step until your back barely brushes against the wall. "How do you like this? The sex."

“Don’t try to act all kind and push aside what you actually want to do. That’s how I want it.”

"Do you uhm… like it fast or slow? The pace I mean." He's slowly pushing inside you while he asks, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“That’s exactly what I meant. Do it however you want and we will see how I like it. Don’t be too gentle like this.”

"Talk to me, okay?" He's halfway inside you now, staying still for a few seconds as he leaves small kisses on your neck.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry, handsome. No one can stop me from complaining if I don’t like something.”

"Good girl." He tries different types of thrusts and angles at first, wanting to see what you respond to the most.

“Fuck. Why do you keep saying that?” She moves her hips to make him thrust faster.

"Because you're my good girl. Dirty too." He moans when he feels you. "God, you want it faster, baby?"

“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Move faster.”

And he does, his grip on your ass tightening as he starts thrusting just the way you want. "Fuck, you're soaked. You feel so good around me."

“You feel good, too.” You moan in between words. “And you are strong. Really strong,” you remark because he doesn’t look tired while holding you.

But he doesn't seem to acknowledge that. "I'm so fucking lucky, Jesus." He groans when he feels your lips sucking on his collarbone.

“You didn’t think your double date would end this way, huh?”

"Deep inside you? Not a chance." He smiles, speeding up.

“Maybe deep inside someone else.” You tease on purpose.

Bucky immediately stops thrusting. "What?"

“I was just joking about how we were meant to be on a date with other people.” You hate that you can’t shut your mouth sometimes.

"Oh," he nods, restarting to move. "Well, I can assure you, he wouldn't have done this tonight." He jokes back.

“Fuck me against the wall like this?”

"Fuck you at all. But especially like this. And the language?" He laughs. "Never."

“Oh, so honorable of him.” You keep joking. “Poor Cassie.”

His right-hand flies behind your head to protect it as his thrusts become way too quick. "Fuck. You feel like heaven, I swear."

“God, how do you do that?” You are surprised that he can carry you with one hand. “Are you sure you aren’t a super soldier yourself?”

Bucky shakes his head amused. "That will go straight to my ego."

“You're carrying me with one hand while protecting my head with the other, and you keep fucking me at the same time. I think it should go straight to your ego.”

He groans. "Lower one of your hands now."

“Lower it where exactly?” You don’t understand what he wants.

His hand moves from the back of her head for a few seconds just to bring her fingers to her clitoris. "Right here. Can you rub this for me?"

“Ohh.” You finally understand what he’s trying to do, so you listen and start rubbing yourself while his hand goes back to your head.

"Good, good girl. Look at you." He doesn't even realize how deep his thrusts are because his focus is on your fingers.

“Oh god… It feels so good.” You have never done something like this before. No public sex, no touching yourself during sex, no good girl whispers next to your ear. They all make you feel dizzy.

"Yeah? Just good?" His mouth finds your breasts this time, and you just know he's leaving a few marks there by the way he sucks on your skin.

“You wanna hear how good it makes me feel?”

"Ihmm."

“Oh, you are even dirtier than you are showing, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He looks up immediately. "Say that again." He demands.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

"Fuck, you need to rub faster."

“You need to fuck me harder.” You say while listening to his order.

"Harder?" He repeats, shocked, not expecting that in the slightest. But he does as you demand in a heartbeat, biting his tongue because it feels so good.

You have a hard time holding back your reaction because it feels just perfect. You can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Shit, you need to cover my mouth,” you say as quickly as possible.

"Just use me. Bite my shoulder," he suggests quickly, keeping the pace exactly the same.

You wanna say no, because you don’t wanna hurt him but there’s no other choice left. You sink your teeth in somewhere between his neck and shoulder and try to muffle yourself. The orgasm hits you so hard that you are afraid someone is gonna hear you even like this.

"Fuck," he groans, the pain feeling amazing as you keep coming, your legs wrapping even more tightly around his ass.

“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to say and go back to biting him, very aware of the hickey you are giving him, but that doesn’t stop you because you don’t want to get caught like this.

"Can't stop." At this point you wonder how no one noticed you by now. The sound of your skin touching and your groans are not quite silent. But even if they did, you know you wouldn't stop. How could you?

"Keep rubbing, I want you to find pleasure again."

“Again?” You sound shocked because you've literally just come.

"Again." He tries to lift one of your legs a little more. "Please."

“I don’t think I can, but keep going, okay?” You already came twice in a short amount of time. How much more can you do?

"Well, I think you can." He smiles. "Gonna mark me up, baby?"

“I think I already did.” You can see your teeth marks on his neck. You are sure it will turn into purple really soon.

"I'm your property now?" The hand he has on the back of your head quickly grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist.

“Are you?” You like the sound of that and how he’s pulling your hair.

"I am." He's frantically thrusting in and out of you. "Rub faster."

“Fuck,” you mumble while rubbing yourself. You aren’t sure if it’s gonna do anything, but it feels good. “Can I keep you then? You know, kidnap you and hide you in my apartment so you don’t have to go back to the war. We can just do this every day.”

"Fuck, do it." He smiles. "I dare you."

“Should I tie you up so it looks more realistic?” And suddenly all that rubbing starts to feel different, more pleasurable.

"On your bed? Go ahead."

You laugh at how easily he’s convinced, but your laugh is interrupted by a moan.

"Gonna come for me, dolly?"

“I am not sure.” You struggle to speak. “It feels like it.”

He pulls your hair hard. "Please, please."

“You beg so beautifully, how can I say no?” It’s not like your body is saying no, either.

When you finish coming again, you watch with your eyes semi-closed as James takes himself out without dropping you even a little and comes right on your thighs and ripped stockings. You feel the warmth of his come while you both are trying to catch your breath.

"This was… wow."

“This is a hell of a first date.” You find yourself giggling. Did all that really happen? The soreness between your legs says yes.

Bucky slowly puts you down. "You think?" He snorts.

“Oh yeah, very memorable.” You notice that your stockings are completely ruined so you have no other choice but to take them off.

"Fuck, you're dripping." He doesn't look like he's sorry and he can't say he is, either. He's actually very proud.

“Yeah, I am aware.” You laugh while taking them off and using them like a washcloth to clean yourself up.

"You have no idea how lovely the sight is." He winks at you while zipping up his pants.

You bite your bottom lip while looking at him. “Likewise. You look satisfied, Sargeant. Did something happen while you were gone?” You pull your skirt down.

"I got touched by an angel."

You laugh. “So cheesy. You are lucky that you are a bookworm. A really good-looking one, who is also good at bed even though we didn’t even need one.”

"Next time. Maybe we'll break it." He sounds so confident, but not demanding at all at the same time.

“When are you going back?” You find yourself asking. If he’s promising you a second time, you are gonna take it.

"In one week."

You make a sad face without realizing then take a deep breath to help yourself focus on the positive side. “That’s a lot of sex.”

He immediately lifts your chin and presses a kiss on your forehead. "I was joking. We got two months."

“You are such a liar.” You punch him in his shoulder.

Which only makes him laugh. "You like it hard."

But your attention is on his neck, on the spot you bit so hard. The purple spot looks really old and mostly faded already.

"No comment?" He snorts. "We're gonna have a lot of fun for sure."

“I have a question.” Your eyes are still on that same spot. “Does Steve heal quickly?”

"Why? You plan on kicking his ass?"

“Just answer the question, please.”

"Yeah, he does." Bucky shrugs. "One of the perks of the serum."

“Even the small scars or purple spots?”

"Yes." Bucky doesn't even think about it. "Which is great. Why? You think your friend will want to know?"

You don’t comment about his question, instead, touch the spot you bit down so hard. “You are nearly completely healed. My mark has vanished.”

"What?" He asks, confused.

“I bit down on your neck so hard, it was dark red. Now it’s gone.”

"I don't get purple easily. Never did. I guess you have to suck a little more." He smiles leaning in to kiss you again.

“I fully bit you,” you say before he does.

"I noticed." He giggled.

Since he doesn’t take it that seriously you let it go. “Fine. I will prove it to you later.”

"Prove what?" He gives you another kiss.

“That you heal quickly.” You try to fix yourself while you kiss him back.

"Oh, I feel healed every time I look at you."

“You are so cheesy.” Yet you can’t help but laugh. “How do I look?”

"Good boy version or?" He pauses dramatically.

“Both.”

"Good boy version first: you look like an angel." He smiles cheekily.

You snort. “I’m asking if I look decent, Bucky.”

"Angel,” he repeats before dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing. "They won't know you've got fucked against the wall if that's what you're afraid of. But you look strangely content and happy."

“That’s because I had a good date.” You scrunch your nose cheekily.

"Me too. The best date ever."

“Should we try to find our best friends?”

"Oh, sure." Bucky leans in to get the teddy bear before handing it to you.

"Ready for more war stories?"

“No, I’m not.” You hug the bear. “I gotta wash this.”

Bucky snorts. "Poor bear. Got traumatized."

“Traumatized and all dirty.” You don’t notice how close you are to Bucky until you feel him next to you. “Should we keep this a secret from our friends?”

"Do you want to?"

“I meant the having sex in a dark alley part. I don’t think my friend needs to know that.” She definitely shouldn’t know all this.

"We should totally keep that part to ourselves." He smiles.

“I could say that you kissed me or something. I don’t know. Is that too forward for the first date?”

"There's no such thing. You can say I kissed you."

“I was genuinely asking.” You smile. “I normally don’t even kiss on the first date.”

Bucky giggles, his hand squeezing your hip. "I am a lucky gal." You smile back at him until you notice a familiar face.

“Oh, is that Steve?” You point to the tall blonde guy.

"Yes, that's him. But where is your friend?"

“Right in front of him. I can see her dress.” It’s sticking on the side.

"Oh, yes. Gonna drive you home after that if that's alright with you." He sounds so casual like he already did that many times, but you notice something else.

“You have a car and you didn’t think of using it until now?”

"Oh." Redness takes over his cheeks. "I got… distracted."

"You are such an idiot." You start to giggle while walking toward your friends.

"Your idiot now. You got stuck with me for at least two months." He laughs.

"Just for two months?" You test his intentions.

"I can't assume you'd want to wait for me, can I?"

"I will tell your best friend to bring you back home in one piece. He's the hero after all. That should be easy, right?"

Bucky looks at her with a soft expression before kissing her hair. "Guess you really got stuck with me."

"Oh shit, Steve saw you kissing my hair." It’s going to be hard to keep this thing between you two.

"Does it bother you?"

“No, no, no.” You quickly try to explain. “It’s just I’m worried that they might think the worst of me. I mean… questioning our closeness.”

"I dare them." She is surprised by how serious and determined he is as he speaks.

“I would kiss you right now if I could.”

"I won't stop you." He giggles like a kid.

“Our friends are,” you whisper and look at your best friend, who is coming toward you. Cassie is holding Steve’s arm proudly.

"Oh, hello," Steve says. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there." Bucky shrugs. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!" Cass immediately giggles, joining the conversation. "He has the best, best stories. What about-" She cuts herself off when she notices your appearance. "What happened to your stockings?"

“Oh.” You blush a little, thinking about how they got ruined. “I tripped and ruined them. They looked so horrible I had to take them off completely.”

"Yes, they got really dirty," Bucky confirms with the biggest grin Steve has seen in ages.

"Oh, really?" He lifts his eyebrow. "What a shame."

“Yeah. Sergeant Barnes promised me a new pair. What a gentleman he is.”

"A gentleman indeed." Steve shakes his head, well aware of what you two have done.

You bite your lip and give Bucky a look, hoping at least Cassie has no idea. You are sure the three of you can keep a secret. For now…

You may wanna read the next part: Trust In What Tomorrow Brings

[xxsunoosprincess]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a request of Enha legal line with a virgin S/O and how they would have sex with them the first time? Thank you so much if you answer 💕!!

ofc cutie!! such a sweet request, I’m happy to write this :3 fair warning, I feel like I got a lil nasty on a couple of these…

Enhypen’s first time with their virgin s/o (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, reader has fem genitalia, pussy job, corruption kink, a bit of awkwardness and reassurance

Heeseung

“Just the tip” ass mfer. Wants to make sure you are enjoying yourself and are sufficiently soaked so it doesn’t hurt. Keeps your cute pink panties on while rutting his cockhead against your covered folds. When you beg him to do more, he pulls your now soaked panties to the side to expose your glistening pussy. Moans so loud when you gasp at the exposure to the cold air.

Continues to fuck himself against your cunt, leaking head nudging your sensitive little clit. “You ready, love? I’ll just… I’ll just put a little bit in, okay?” as he pants above you. Keeps good on his promise, fucking you on just the first couple inches of his dick until you are creaming all over him.

Jay

He… heheheheh he’s sick in the head. His cock fills out immediately when you tell him you are a virgin, all shy and blushing underneath him. Jay considered himself above typical boyish desires, but this. Fuck. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Knowing that he’s the first to see you like this. He’s the first to see your cunt up close. He’s the first to kiss the whines out of your mouth telling you to quiet down before the boys hear you. His cock is the first to feel the warm insides of your pussy. He has to hold back from fucking you immediately, both for your sake and because he thinks he is going to bust the moment he slips in.

Jake

I know a lot of people say Jake is a fuck boy, but lowkey I think he is a virgin too. He can’t help that he is a flirt! He always leave you blushing, so imagine how shocked you are when he finally gets you into bed, shaking hands caressing you, and he blushes when you whisper out “Jakey… you’ll have to tell me how, it’s my first time”.

He counters with wide eyes and a punched out “I’ll try but umm… it’s my first time too.” Really eases a lot of nerves both of you are emitting, knowing that you are both going into this on the same page. Sexual tension isn’t fragile, and I think that stays true for y’all, lots of embarrassed chuckles and quick finishes. It’s a lovely, memorable night <3

Sunghoon

Definitely plans it out, maybe more nervous than you are. Once he has the knowledge that you plan on giving your virginity to him, he gets crazy. Surprisingly, not in a horny way but in a neurotic ‘I don’t know what to do’ way. He just really wants to make this special for you. Picks out a date, wines and dines you, but hasn’t thought through what to do when he actually has you laid out in front of him.

He sits on his knees between your spread legs, back propped up with the fluffiest pillows he could find. His fingers barely graze your calf before he pulls back as if he was burned. You might be offended by it if you couldn’t see the clear concern in his eyes. “Hoonie, it’s okay. I want this. I want you.” is the magic words to get him to break from where he was frozen in his spot, surging forward to kiss you. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be weird. You are just so special to me, I don’t want to mess this up.” Maybe doesn’t fuck you tonight, but you guys get much more comfortable with eachother.

Sunoo

Appears calm on the surface but if you look close you can hear the shake in his voice and the tears welling up in his eyes. So honored that you trust him with something like this. Even if it’s not a big deal to you, it is to him. Sunoo is all tender touches and soft kisses.

However, he is still a man. Once you give him the go ahead, his hips are jack-rabbiting into yours. It’s in missionary, short and powerful thrusts punching out little “hah, hah, hah”s with each movement. Never stops kissing you. Slows down with sensual rocks of his hips, holding you tightly. Smiling and professing his love for you, completely pussy drunk and it’s your first time together <3 maybe this is just me self inserting, but you both definitely cry as you cum together.

Jungwon

I think wonie might also be a virgin. He’s been so focused on his career and practicing, that he never had time to explore himself. Honestly, I don’t think his sex drive was that high, so when you came into his life he was shocked. Jungwon has never jerked off so much in his life. Every night he is whining and trashing in his sheets thinking about you, feels like such a pervert but he can’t help it.

When there is finally enough time in both of your schedules he takes you straight to bed! Makes sure to finger you and eat you out and make you cum three times before he even gets his dick close to your pussy… he has been fantasizing about this so much he knows he will bust immediately. Has to make sure his girl is just as satisfied as he is by the time he finishes.

END.

a/n: uptick in virgin content on my page recently… what does that mean. xx - princess

tag list: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (dm or fill out form in navigation to be added)

[bunnycobie]

best friend's brother - choi san

pairing: choi san x f!reader summary: when your night with your crush doesn't go to plan, you find comfort in the person you'd least expect genre: smut, some fluff, some angst word count: 3k content/tw: nonidol characters, college au, san has a sister named mina (not meant to be mina from twice), other random idol names are used, fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex (don’t do this in real life) a/n: this may be a cringefest bc it was my first fic

18+ minors dni (masterlist)

you tap on jimin’s instagram story for an update on where he might be. he’s in a car with his friends, most likely on his way here. replaying the post over and over, you don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at his smile until you’re hit on the leg with a pillow, snapping you back into reality.

“are you even listening to me?” mina snaps. you grin and sit up against the pillows on her bed.

today is mina’s birthday, and she decided to throw a party at her house tonight. but even though she invited tons of people, she only cares about one guest. so much so, that she’s cycled through five different outfits just to look as good as possible.

“you look hot.” you say jokingly, grabbing and hugging the pillow she just threw at you. “jin is going to notice you, quit overthinking it.”

mina groans. “why aren’t they here yet?”

“they’re on their way right now, they’ll probably be here soon. can we please go now?” you whine. the party started almost an hour ago, but you’ve been waiting for your friend to finish getting ready.

“i just need a few more minutes. go ahead, i’ll find you later.” she says, looking in the mirror as she puts on a pair of earrings.

as you leave the room, your ears are instantly flooded with music despite the party only being downstairs. you head towards the bathroom and step inside to check your hair and makeup in the mirror.

you and mina invited jimin and jin to the party, and it’s the only thing you two have thought about all week. mina and jin are practically a thing at this point, but you can’t say the same for you and jimin. you’re always too nervous to hold a conversation with him. it’s nothing a little liquid courage can’t fix, though. you hope.

there’s a knock on the bathroom door. you open it expecting it to be mina. instead, you’re greeted by a large frame with silky black hair.

of course, it’s mina’s brother san.

despite being a player on campus, he’s really sweet and protective over you. presumably because you’re his sister’s friend. still, he’s always been respectful and never tried to make a move on you.

but you’ve definitely caught him staring once or twice, and youd be lying if you said you didn’t do the same.

“oh, hi y/n.” he examines your outfit, making you feel self-conscious. “i started to think i’d never see you guys come out of that room.”

“sorry,” you smile awkwardly, walking around him into the hallway. “she’s nervous about jin.”

“jin’s coming?”

“yeah, and jimin”. you reply.

san’s posture straightens. “so you actually like him?”

“i never said that.” you protest.

“i hear you guys all the time. you aren’t really discreet about it.” he smiles.

you can’t help but notice his dimples every time he does that. your relationship with him has only ever been platonic, but you’re almost always dumbfounded by his appearance.

“i mean, maybe. i can’t really tell if he feels the same way though.” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

san leans against the wall. “i wouldn’t waste my time on him,”.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i don’t like him. it doesn’t matter though; you can do better than him.”

who the hell does he think he is?

“you don’t even know him. why should i care what you think?” you say, furrowing your brows.

in reality, san knows jimin more than you’d thin. they’ve never been friends, but he’s spent enough time around him to know that he’s not worth dating.

san is well aware of his position in your life, but he still cares and doesn’t want to see you hurt. your words stung a little, but he wouldn’t let you know that.

san grins and lets out a soft chuckle that pisses you off a little.

mina’s bedroom door opens and she steps out in yet another outfit choice.

“it took you an hour to come up with that?” san says teasingly, gesturing to mina’s outfit.

mina’s eyes widen. “is it actually that bad?” she gaps.

“he’s joking.” you smile, despite the anger you felt a few seconds ago. “you look cute, can we go now?” you asked, grabbing mina’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs.

not only would she have actually changed her outfit again, but you would’ve done anything to get out of that situation. you’re an adult and can date whoever you want. why is san treating you like you’re his sister... or his girlfriend?

as you walk away with mina, you glance over your shoulder to see san still looking at you, except this time he’s more serious.

the party was open invitation, but you’re still surprised by the number of people that actually showed. you and mina grab two beers from the kitchen.

you feel a tug on your arm. “they’re over there!”. she points to jin and jimin sitting on a sofa with drinks and talking.

your stomach knots at the sight of jimin and you start to feel flustered. he looks so good you start to second guess your outfit just as much as mina did hers. you chug your drink, hoping the alcohol will set in soon.

mina laughs at your nervousness. “are you ready?”

“i think so –”

“hey guys!” mina yells over the music, interrupting you.

your heart drops even further than it already did.

jmin and jin look over as you and mina make your way to them. mina sits next to Jin, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to jimin on the opposite end. you were hoping Mina would be with you to ease the awkwardness, but that plan is instantly thrown out the window.

jimin turns his body towards you, and you start to wish you’d planned things to talk about.

“hey, you look nice.” he smiles.

“thank you.” you respond shyly. somehow you feel even more self-conscious despite the compliment.

“i haven’t seen you in class lately.” you mention, hoping your awkwardness doesn’t show.

“oh. i’ve been kind of focused on my music lately. i’m actually considering switching majors.” he says.

he continues speaking but as you glance around your attention is caught by san across the room.

he’s looking directly at you, while a girl is holding his arm and laughing. he’s pretending to listen, but he’s watching you and jimin. you can’t seem to break the eye contact, as if your eyes are glued to him.

you realize you’re mid conversation and shift your focus back on jimin, who’s still talking about himself.

“i think that’s great.” you smile at him, unknowing of what he spent the last 30 seconds talking about.

“y/n, can I borrow you for a sec?” mina leans forward into your gaze.

you nod. “sorry, one second.” you excuse yourself from the conversation and follow mina as she pulls you aside.

“jin and i are going to my room; are you gonna be fine on your own?” she asks lowly.

“what? you’re sleeping with jin already?” you exclaim.

mina shushes you and looks around the room as if anyone could’ve heard you over the music.

“i don’t know, probably.” she says, grinning like an idiot.

“i’ll be fine. be safe.” you smile.

she nods and waves over jin, and he follows her upstairs

you make your way over to where you previously were but realize jimin is gone. you scan the room for him but can’t find him. you start to regret letting mina go and feel awkward all over again. you look around for a familiar face and see san, still talking to the same girl and clearly uninterested. you find chaewon and yunjin and join them for a while.

almost two hours pass while you’re busy getting drunk and dancing.

mina comes back with jin, but you’ve been so caught up that you forgot about them and jimin.

“hey.” you almost cringe realizing what they might have just finished doing.

mina grins and rolls her eyes. “where’s jimin?”

you shrug. “he left after you guys did”

“that’s weird,” jin says.

“i’ll go look for him.”

you scan downstairs one more time, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. you realize the party extended to the patio and open the door to check outside.

you find him, but you’re practically frozen in place when you do. he’s sitting next to a pretty blonde girl, kissing and feeling her up. you start to feel sick. you know that the two of you weren’t exclusive, but you still had hope there would be something between you. you’ve been obsessed with him for months and the one night you decided to make a move, the universe betrays you. the embarrassment starts to set in when you realize practically everyone knew about your crush as well.

you can’t watch any longer, and head back inside. you don’t feel like looking for mina. you don’t want to ruin her birthday by forcing her to comfort you. you’re too ashamed to admit what happened, anyways. you’re too drunk to walk or drive home, so you go to mina’s bedroom to wait for the rest of the night.

you open the door to her bedroom but the unmade bed reminds you of what just happened in it. and as disgusting as you feel, you’d rather not fall asleep on a bed full of sweat and god knows what else.

standing in the hallway, you start to feel the frustration set in and tears begin to well in your eyes.

you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and immediately wipe your tears.

you don’t know whether to be grateful or upset over the fact that it’s san. as soon as you see his face, you’re reminded of the situation from earlier. and the last thing you want is to hear an “i-told-you-so”.

“what’s wrong?” he says, noticing your expression.

“nothing.” you reply, trying to contain yourself.

“why were you crying then?” he approaches you, practically trapping you in between him and the wall.

“i’m just tired.” you lie, looking down hoping to avoid eye contact.

“don’t lie to me,” san says, lifting your chin.

“did he do something to you?” he’s more intimate this time, and you realize you won’t get anywhere by hiding the truth.

“you were right.” you admit, removing his hand from your face. you start to feel the shame overwhelm you again

san sighs and looks around the hallway to make sure you were alone.

“are you happy?” you continued.

“of course i’m not happy,” san says, offended by the accusation. “you’ve had too much to drink. let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

you know he didn’t do anything wrong. none of this was his fault. to be fair, he did warn you. you weren’t mad at san, but you were overwhelmed and didn’t know what else to do. so, you took it out on him.

“you’ve been watching me like a creep all night waiting for something to go wrong. now you want to pretend you feel bad and take care of me?” you snap.

san sucks his teeth and grabs your wrist. pulling you to his bedroom, he shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

“can you calm down?” he asks in annoyance, folding his arms.

you start pacing out of frustration, trying to keep yourself from breaking down.

“he’s not worth crying over, y/n. I told you that you could do better than him.” he says, pulling you back to him. he snakes one hand around your waist and starts wiping your tears with the other.

something about his presence makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like you could cry if you needed to, but how could you when you’re around him? the realization that your body is pressed against his starts to set in.

you always knew san was good-looking, but something about the way he’s letting you be vulnerable with him makes him so much more attractive. he looked unreal, yet somehow, he was standing right in front of you.

you must have been staring for a while because his expression darkens. his thumb that was just wiping your tears starts to brush softly over your lips. you feel like you’re going to pass out from the way he’s staring at your face, studying you.

san’s lips press against yours and his arms wrap around your waist. you reach over his wide shoulders and around his neck as he pulls your body closer to his. each kiss begins deepen, with small moans escaping your throat. and as passionate as they are, his lips are still so soft and careful with yours.

san’s lips move from yours to your neck, and he’s holding you as if you’d slip away once he lets go.

you can feel warmth pooling in between your legs, making your legs go numb. he sweeps you up and moves his focus back to your lips as he carries you to his bed. laying you on your back, he hovers over you between your legs, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out a moan as reassurance for him to continue, so he slides his hand under your top. he squeezes and massages your breast, causing you to let out whines involuntarily.

“does that feel good?” he groans against your neck. you can feel him smiling against you, giving you chills in the best way possible.

you manage to let out a soft whiny “yes.”.

“i’m gonna make you feel so much better.” he promises. he plants a soft kiss against your collarbone before shifting his hand between your legs.

he circles his thumb against the outside of your panties, feeling the damp spots he caused. each feeling of him hitting your clit makes your breath hitch.

“fuck.” he groans. “my baby is so good and wet for me.” he moans, teasing you with his fingers.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, your forehead against his.

“could you please?” you plead softly.

“could I what? use your words, baby.” he teases, pushing more pressure onto your clit.

“fingers, please.” you babble, your head falling back from the sensitivity.

“you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” san smirks.

“mm-hmm.” you whine.

san pulls your panties to the side and pushes his thick finger in slowly, earning a whimper from you.

he can feel his cock growing feeling the warmth of you, wishing it was inside of you instead. the sound of his fingers slipping inside of you are audible from the wetness.

san can feel himself swelling up and leaking from the anticipation, but he wants to take his time with you. he loves the sight of you moaning and whining under his control with your head held back.

he pulls your head in by the back of your neck and snakes his tongue in your mouth while curling his fingers to reach your gspot. his tongue is warm and wet, and you feel yourself getting dizzy and falling apart.

“i’m gonna cum.” you manage to breathe out.

“wait a little longer for me,” san says, pulling his fingers out of your heat and kissing you before standing up.

he pulls his shirt off revealing his bare chest and smooth, toned skin. he’s practically sweating from the anticipation, making his abs and biceps look even more glossy. he looks like a greek god.

unzipping his pants and removing the rest of his clothes, his swollen cock reveals itself, already wet and leaking from the tip.

he pushes you back down and lets you wrap your legs around his waist.

rubbing his tip against your sensitive clit, he inserts himself, making you gasp. the feeling you felt from his finger was almost nothing compared to the size of him inside of you.

he groans at the feeling of you wrapped around and squeezing him and wastes no time before speeding up his pace. your moans can’t help but get louder, and he has to cover your mouth with his just in case someone may hear you whine.

he moves fast yet softly as if he doesn’t want to hurt you. still, the feeling of him inside of you is enough to make your eyes water. you feel your sensitivity from being edged earlier come back, and you’re close to your high all over again.

“i wish i could do this with you forever” he moans.

his pace starts to get sloppy, letting you know he’s close to finishing. you feel a wave of ecstasy take over your body as san releases inside of you, leaving you dripping. the two of you moan over the feeling of finishing on each other.

san collapses next to you as you both catch your breath. he gets up and slips on clothes to leave the room. you lay in confusion for a minute until he comes back with a warm towel.

he cleans you up and gives you one of his clean t-shirts to wear to sleep. you try to hide your smile from the thought of him being so sweet to you. when you put the shirt on, he falls in love at the sight of it being so big on you. he’s not super tall, but his muscles are enough to warrant his shirts being huge. san wraps his arms around you and gives you another kiss, but this time it feels more loving than the rest.

“do you feel better now?” he asks, embracing you.

you’d forgotten about what led to this in the first place. but you didn’t care enough to remember because you were in love with someone else now.

[wandanatswitch]

Hour of the Owl

Pairing: Dowager!Queen Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst w/ happy ending

Summary: “Love can become both a sanctuary and a peril”

Warnings: NSFW +18 minors DNI, age gap (reader is aprox 18, Alicent is aprox 37), step-cest?, mentions of targcest, fingering? (reader receiving) oral (reader receiving), semi-public sex, mentions of infidelity (not between the main characters), religious shame and guilt, mention of suicidal thoughts, emotional dependency/obsession, mentions of homophobia, kinda? Toxic relationship, manipulation, I kinda wrote the reader from a BPD perspective so she could have some traits. Let me know if there's anything missing! NO DANCE OF DRAGONS AU! Note: English is not my first language! And this is my first time writing a fic so please let me know what you think <3 Also there is very few use of Y/N! 

Words: 2.9K

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“May I join you, Princess?” 

The oh so familiar voice echoes through the empty gardens of the red keep perturbs your quiet late night stroll.

“Of course, Your Grace…” You reply while looking at the bushes filled with different coloured roses. “Is something the matter?”

 You wished to deny her, you really did… but as always, you failed to do so, you just could not bring yourself to say no to her, nor to reject her presence, the one that made you feel that stupid agonising passion that made you wish it was possible that two people were one. You wanted to be binded to her. You wanted to lay down under the same tree where you kiss her so desperately, and merge with her so you could never be separated from one another ever again.

She approaches ever so carefully, moving her hand slightly forward, making your hands faintly touch… An innocent mistake is what she would answer if you reproach her.

“Not at all” She gently caresses the edge of the rose petals in front of you. “I simply wished to know if you have received any letter from my son” A lie. “I know i have not received one since he left” Another lie. You knew for a fact that Aemond had written to the Dowager Queen, he told you himself in the only letter he had written to you, and you had heard Princess Helaena trying and failing to tell Aegon about what their brother had written to their mother… “Mother said he was vague , but that he was well… he wrote that he is not bored as he expected to be and that he is actually having a good time…” is what you heard Helaena say, but you stopped listening when Aegon groaned at his sister-wife’s words.

“What is your need to lie to me, Your Grace?” You did not look up from the flowers, you did not dare. “You always lie, at this point i find myself believing that lying is the only thing you know how to do”

That gained you a sigh from her “You are right, I apologize…” she whispers “I just wanted to be alone with you—”

“Please, do not say anything else and just leave” you cut her off in a hostile tone but whispered voice “You said it yourself, we are sinful. This is a sin. We are wrong and the Gods will punish us if we do not stop whatever twisted and vile-” she cut you off when she placed her hand on your cheek, caressing it gently with her thumb.

“I know, my darling but—” she tries to plead, but her words get cut off again. You step back, causing her hand to drop back to her side. “You always do this!” you whisper loudly “You always do this! And it is not fair that you get to treat me like a stupid toy that you only wish to hurt!” Tears are rolling down your face at this point, much to your dislike.

“I am so stupidly tired of this, and I simply cannot bear this anymore…” You closed your eyes and tried to be strong and take a deep breath, but it came out shaky and broken. “...I have two children, Alicent… What am I supposed to tell them when they see me cry in front of them because I just can’t take it anymore? That their grandmother's favorite pastime is to hurt me…? 

“Princess, you are speaking foolishly—” The Dowager Queen tries to say calmly, but once again, she finds her words being cut off.

“Am I?!” You are shouting at this point. The anger, the frustration, the pain, the hurt, everything, finally finding a way out. “Yes you are!” The older woman shouted, matching your tone. “My goal has never been to hurt you! Your pain is the last thing I would ever wish for! Ever!” “You are a liar! You have proven yourself to be—”

“I do not lie to hurt you, I lie so I do not lose you!” She starts to lower her voice, although her tone is still full of frustration. “I love you, you know that very well” “No you do not, if anything you despise me” The Targaryen princess tries to say firmly, but her voice wavers from the tears she has spilled “You would have to despise someone to hurt them like you have hurt me” You look at Alicent right in the eyes “Maybe is not me who you wish to hurt. Maybe you wish to hurt my mother and I am nothing more than a discardable piece to accomplish it.” Your breath quickens, your heart hurts and you feel like dying… you feel as if nothing matters anymore, and at this very moment you just wish to die. 

“You just cannot stand the fact that my mother is Queen, can you? And you are not only taking your frustrations out on me, but you are also trying to hurt her through me. That is what I am to you, right?”

“I will not allow you to say such idiotic, and simply untrue words” Alicent is angry. Angry at herself, angry at the Gods… but she is not angry at you, not fully at least. How can she blame you for thinking that? 

She should have been smarter about this whole relationship, the Hightower thought to herself. She should have never given into her sinful desires, but the want overpowered her… If she didn't know better, she would have thought that you were the reward the Gods had given her for enduring more than fifteen years of not only being Viserys' wife, but also a Queen… Turns out you were not her reward, but her damnation.

“I love you, Y/N” She states, her voice unwavering “I do. I love you more than i have ever loved anything before” The auburn haired woman lets out a tired sigh before walking closer to you. She lifts a hand to place at your waist out of pure habit, but she decides against it when she sees the anger and hurt still lingering in the younger girl's eyes. “I do not feel angry at the thought of Rhaenyra sitting on the throne, I promise you that. If anything, I am relieved… I do not have as much responsibility as I had before… And I do have more liberties too, the eyes of the court are not on me anymore, at least most of the time they are not… If Aegon had been crowned king, most of the responsibility still would have been thrown at me, besides I know he would have not been a good king…” Alicent fidgets with her hands as she continues “And the stupid anger i had for your mother, the foolish one sided fight i had with her for years… is over. I know the tension remains, but I promise you, Y/N, I do not hate her, nor do I wish for her downfall or to cause her pain. I wish her well in her reign.” The older woman’s hands grip the fabric of her dress in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. “So no, you are not “a discardable piece”, Princess” The Princess does not know what to say, so she ultimately decides to sit at a nearby bench in complete silence. “My dear…” Alicent whispers to the younger woman. “I do not believe you.” The princess does not look up from the ground. “I do not believe a word of what you just said.” Alicent has to swallow a sob, but she cannot hold the tears any longer.

“...Why not?” The Hightower whispers as she tries to wipe her falling tears.

“Why…!?” You stand up from the bench and walk towards her, “Why do I not believe you, you ask?! Because like I said before, you have proven yourself to be a liar, Alicent!” The Princess looks up in an attempt to stop more tears to fall, but quickly realizes that it was a futile attempt to stop what she cannot control. “And because you have never once told me about what you just said. You never open up or tell me how you feel! So how am I supposed to believe you?!” The older woman tightens her lips before speaking up. “Alright. You want me to open up? i will.” Alicent steps closer to you and lifts both of her hands to place them on your waist, and this time she decides not to stop the action. “I wish I was born a man so that I could have you like your husband has you. I wish that I was a man so that loving you was not a sin, but I have slowly come to accept that I would gladly be damned to any of the seven hells if it means that I get to have you, to love you, or to even see your face every day. But I still wished that I was born a man… because it is not fair that my own son gets to have you but if I do as much as to touch your hand I will be considered a sinner by the Gods.” She sounds desperate… She looks desperate. 

“I wish I was a man, so I could grab you by your waist, and push you against a wall, and kiss you until you stopped breathing, and do it without fear” Her hands move to your hips. “….If I were a man, I would use you, I would spoil you, I would devour you, but above all I would love you without fear” Alicent’s grip tightens against your hips. “Oh, Princess… How I would love you… If only fate would have been kinder…”

You have stayed quiet up until this point, the words you are hearing have both made you feel like the most loved woman in the seven kingdoms, and the most doomed one at the same time. “...I do  not want you a man, I want you…” You whisper, but your voice does not lack certainty. “I want you as you are…”

Alicent’s eyes look at your own. She is looking at you with such love and tenderness… the kind that makes you melt and doubt if anyone has ever been loved like that before. “I know, sweetling…” The woman’s right hand moves to your tear stained cheek.

You look at Alicent with a pained expression “I love you” Your hand reaches her cheek as you lean forward for a kiss. You kiss her softly, trying to demonstrate with a kiss all the love you feel for her.

On the other hand, Alicent needs you. She needs to feel you, she needs to taste you, she needs to love you… So she deepens the kiss and squeezes your hips. You break the kiss, but not the distance. As you two look at each other, Alicent’s hands move up from your hips to your back. She wastes no time in starting to undo them with practiced ease. “Alicent—” She finishes unlacing your dress, making it loose on you. “Shhh my dear…  We will be fine…” The older woman utters before kneeling on the soft grass and extending her hand to you, a silent invitation.

As soon as you kneel, her hands are on you again, taking off your dress. You gently grab her face and pull her in for a hungry kiss, which makes her moan in your mouth. 

The princess’ hands are tangled in the Hightowers' hair, pulling her as close as possible, trying to become one with the woman that she loves oh so dearly.

As soon as your dress is out of the way, and you are only covered by your undergarments, Alicent’s mouth shifts to your collarbone, peppering kisses as she works on removing your undergarments. She was like a woman starved. She needs you, and you need her just as much. When your undergarments are not an obstacle anymore, her mouth reaches your breasts. She kisses the soft flesh with a mix of love and hurry, making your throat release sweet gasps and making your back arch.

Oh Gods, the sounds… They only fueled Alicent’s want more and more, and it did not help that your fingers had started to unlace her dress, making it each second more and more loose.

You needed that damned dress off of her, you needed to take it off of her just as she had taken yours off of you. You needed to feel her bare body against yours. You needed her in the way you have never needed anything else… In fact, you are sure that nobody else has ever experienced this kind of need and want.

Alicent continues worshipping your breasts as if they were deities themselves. Her tongue licks your nipple while her hand massages the other, and the moans that come out of your mouth are inevitable.

You finally manage to take the dress off of her, leaving her only in her undergarments… But still, that was more clothing that you wanted her in. “I think it is a little unfair that you have those on while I am almost completely bare, do you not think so?”

The older woman sits up a little bit, stopping her ministrations on your breasts. “You are right, princess… It is not at all fair” Right after she says those words, she removes the upper part of her undergarments, leaving her chest exposed to you. Your mouth finds itself immediately in her breasts… kissing, biting, licking…

A sweet moan falls from her lips , causing you to softly moan in return.

Alicent gently pushes you to lay on the grass, but not before putting your dress as a blanket for you to lay on, causing you to smile at her caring act. “I love you so much… I did not think it was possible to love this much…” You whisper to her, and those may be the truest words you have ever said.

“I love you too. More than anything” She lays down next to you, and instantly kisses you again while she runs her hands through your body. “You are all I need, and there is no such thing as something that I would not do for you, my sweetest girl”

Alicent’s hand reaches your hips and as soon as she grabs the hem of the bottom part of your undergarments, she slides them down your legs.

“We should go to my chambers… or yours, anyone could see us here—” Your words are stopped when two of her digits rub your clit in the way only she could “Oh Gods…!”

Any thought of getting caught had suddenly vanished from your mind, and instead, it was replaced by pleasure and Alicent’s name.

“No one will see us, my darling” She moves her fingers faster, while her other hand caresses your hair “It is the hour of the owl…” She stops her movements so she can position herself between your legs “And everyone knows that this pacific garden is yours, my love, no one will come, do not worry in vain” She reassures you once she is kneeled in between your legs. 

The only response you could give to her was a weak nod, but that quickly changed once her tongue made contact with your core, making you moan her name. 

Your hands made their way to Alicent’s hair, tangling themselves between the strands. The only thoughts you had were of Alicent, nothing more, nothing less. 

One of Alicent’s hands grips one of your thighs, while the other one travels up and towards your chest.

The Dowager Queen was lost on you. On your taste, on how you feel, on how you sound… This is everything she could ever want.

“Alicent…!” You moan loudly as your back arches, involuntarily searching for more. “Alicent I’m close…!”

The older woman's hand reaches for your own, stopping her movements on your breast , and instead intertwines her fingers with yours.

“Go ahead, my darling” Alicent says without moving away from your clit, softly moaning at the taste.

Your grip on your love’s hair tightens, and your eyes roll back. It felt as if you were on fire, and you never wanted it to end… You moan and gasp Alicent’s name as you reach your climax,  your hips bucking up towards your lover’s mouth to ride the last waves of pleasure.

Alicent crawls up and lays next to you… Her hand gently caresses your body as she places a sweet kiss on your lips, when she pulls away she takes her time to admire you… spent, panting, and underneath the moonlight. 

“...Run away with me…”

[intrepidacious]

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

 No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[byooregard]

x men tumblr dashboard simulator

bluebabadee

THIS BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR NON-HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS. HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS DNI

10 notes 📌Pinned Post

sparklejays Follow

based on your likes!

every time I see a human talking about "how cool it would be to have superpowers" or some shit like that I loose it a little bit more. do these people realize that being a mutant isn't just fun powers. like even beyond the shit I deal with trying to get jobs or all the relationships that have been ruined once people realized I'm a mutant. abilities aren't just fun and games, I have a friend who can't touch people without nearly killing them, I burned down three buildings before someone finally taught me to control my abilities, and these people are all like "wouldn't it be great to fly to work every day??" just admit that you see us as comic book characters and not real people with real struggles

#actually mutant #jay .txt

276 notes

scamperpamperblog reblogged spocktism

🏙️tilleys-brain Follow

self diagnosing is great and all but most of you people aren't telepaths, you're just hyperempathic

#actually mutant #actually telepathic #hyperempathy #crosstagging i know but some of yall need to see this #tilley speaks #it can be dangerous to go around acting like you know peopels actual thoughts when its just your brain

1,657 notes

oh-you-pretty-things

.

#vent post #sometimes I get really mad at magneto #like I think he's done a lot for mutant rights and stuff #but I'm so fucking tired of everyone assuming that I'm evil just because of my powers #like jesus not all of us are trying to start atomic wars #some metallokinetics just use their abilities to make cool sculptures #but I can't get a spoon from across the room in front of strangers without someone mentioning jfk

3 notes

mutantbuffy reblogged muntantpollscentral

🩻mutantpollscentral

*physical mutation meaning something that is ALWAYS physical, not just something you can turn off and on whenever

#ig my mutation IS technically physical its just not visible to people most of the time so i feel weird claiming that #but like i was born with the tattoo marks #the powers didnt come till later tho #so idk which to pick

668 notes

sploimsh reblogged jesterjuleses

🎹pussy-truck-faggot

HEY! shout-out to people with *weird* mutations. Mutations that don't look cool, mutations that are gross, mutations that are dirty, mutations that you can't tell people about because they always cringe. You're just as valid as every other mutant out there. Your powers don't need to be palettable to humans for you to be treated with respect.

#THIS!!! #rb

5,678 notes

rosetvler

god i am so tired of the hypocrisy in this community. the double standards are insane. its okay to have 'scary' powers but the moment someone's abilities are scarier than like, pyrokinesis you're evil and dangerous to be around. 'acceptance' for you people only means nice mutants who've never hurt or scared anyone ever.

rosetvler reblogged rosetvler

non-mutants can reblog this btw

#srb #actually mutant #getting real tired of this

18 notes

katiedidnt reblogged morelikesexmen

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

okay like. i get that were all about acceptance and pride or w/e but no one in this tag has ever had friends irl i swear. if someone asks you not to read their mind you shouldnt. honestly you shouldnt be using telepathy on people at all without their permission. mutant abilities dont disclude you from respecting peoples boundaries

🌌rosetvler Mutuals

i swear to god you people are such hypocrites. its all 'mutant and proud' until someone has a power you dont like. its always about keeping the humans feeling comfortable instead of thinking about how it feels to never use your powers because theyre breaking 'boundaries' that were made up by humans in the first place

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

dude do you hear yourself right now

🎆jade-the-pyromancer Follow

Hey, I like your point op, but maybe you should stop trying to speak over actual telepaths and let them decide how to use their powers themselves???

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

i. i am a telepath.

#duddeeee telepaths are insane #used to be friends with one SO glad i broke that off before it went too bad

15,678 notes

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Three

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, Derrick shows his true self, Javier comes to the rescue, depictions of SA (minor, though proceed with caution), mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

Friday night marked not only the temporary break from having to see Dr. Peña every single day, but also your stupid date with Derrick. He’d been out of the apartment when you woke up, him and Nina off at the gym. Alondra crawled into bed with you, her laptop in tow. 

“I don’t wanna go tonight,” you grumbled, drawing the blankets up to your face as she got comfortable beside you. “Just tell him I’m sick or something.”

“He’s been looking forward to this all week,” she reminded, pulling up Netflix. “Hell, for the last four years.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been dreading this for the last four years so where does that leave us?” you challenged. “I’m supposed to make myself uncomfortable just to make his little dream come true?” 

“I’m not saying that,” she sighed. “I’m just saying what harm could come from going to dinner with him? He’s your friend, just pretend you guys are grabbing food or something casual.”

“But he won’t want casual,” you snapped, throwing your blanket back so that you could get up. “He’ll want the full treatment.”

“There’s worse men to pretend to like,” she said, closing her laptop as she watched you tug on a hoodie and sweats. “At least he’s good looking and harmless.”

“Harmless as a friend,” you pointed out. “Who knows what he’s like on a date.”

“That’s why you should go,” she urged. “To find out if maybe that’s what was missing—“

“There’s nothing missing!” you shouted. “I don’t want him, not because I just haven’t seen how charming he is, not because I haven’t given him a chance. I don’t want him because I don’t want him. End of story.”

“Then don’t go!” she shouted back. 

“How? How am I supposed to turn him down when I’ve tried that for the past four years and he doesn’t give a shit. He’ll keep trying and trying until I finally cave, so I’ll fucking go tonight, but this is it. No more putting his feelings above mine.”

“Then I don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

You took a deep breath, finding the patience you knew you possessed but seemed so far away in this moment. Out of all people, you expected Alondra to understand your side of the situation. She’d never spent a day in her entire life thinking about what a man wanted, what they were feeling and how she might accommodate for it. And yet, here she was demanding that you not only go through with this but that you shut up while doing it. 

“I just want to be alone for a while,” you said, dejected and hurt. “It feels like the entire world is turning for him and I’m just here. You and Nina love him, I know, but what about me?”

“We love you,” she said, her brows furrowing. “It’s just that sometimes it almost feels like you avoid the things that you know will be good for you in favor of shit that’ll wreck you. We’re just trying to show you that Derrick is a good thing.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m gonna be at the library until my lab. Tell Derrick I’ll meet him back here at ten.”

“Don’t be like that,” she coaxed, following you into your shared bathroom to watch you brush your teeth. “Don’t be mad.”

Spitting out the toothpaste, you tried to ignore her guilt tripping. “I’m not mad, I just want to be alone.”

“Fine,” she said, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Text me if you need me?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, watching her leave the room knowing damn well she just earned a spot at the bottom of the list of people you’d reach out to.

Dr. Peña’s lab went by smoothly, the undergrads taking their first quiz of the semester in absolute silence as you got to work grading yesterday’s assignment. Dr. Peña had been taking careful glances at you, his brow furrowed with concern. Not that you could blame him. For the last two days you’d been dressing to impress, or more delusionally, to seduce, but today you’d shown up bare faced and in sweats. 

Setting his pen down, he cleared his throat and walked over to your desk, causing your tired eyes to lift to his. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, giving him a forced smile that only managed to deepen that look of concern on his face. 

“Just tired,” you lied in a whisper, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I know these late night labs aren’t the easiest—“

“No, no,” you assured. “It’s not the lab. Just…personal stuff.”

He lifted his chin in understanding, his fingers tapping against the wood of your desk. “Well, if you’d prefer, you can finish grading those at home. They’re just going to be taking the quiz tonight, so we’ll be fine without our prized TA.”

You smiled at the compliment—or at what you assumed to be one. “It’s fine. Home’s not very appealing to me right now.”

“The offer stands,” he smiled, soft and almost unnoticeable before walking back to his desk. 

Too bad you noticed every single thing he did. 

After the lab, you headed home to get ready for the punishment that was an hour spent at the snobbiest restaurant in Austin with your not-so-friend. Derrick was locked up in his room, no doubt trying to overcome his jitters while you did the same. Only your jitters felt more like tremors, something deep in your soul cautioning you against going. Still, you persisted. 

Slipping into a skirt and your favorite top that gave you the confidence necessary to walk into this situation with your head held high, your makeup flawless and subdued, your hair just the way you like it, you took a deep breath and opened your door to greet Derrick with a forced smile. 

“You look…wow,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. While you smelled his clean scent, there was also a hint of something else on his breath—tequila, perhaps? “No one’s gonna believe you’re with me.”

You cleared your throat, glancing at Nina and Alondra who stood in the kitchen eavesdropping. “Let’s go. Don’t want to be late for your fancy reservation.”

He laughed, nodding as he held out his hand for you to take. You pretended not to notice it and busied your hands with holding your bag and phone, which…

Fuck, you forgot to charge your phone. 

“My brother recommended this place,” he said, brushing off your rejection as he walked you out of the building and to his car. “It’s where he proposed.”

“Mm,” you hummed, still lost in your head. 

“You like sushi, right?” he asked, opening your door. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. “We’ve been friends for how long now and you don’t know that?”

He chuckled, buckling his seatbelt. “I don’t pay attention to little shit.”

You stared at his profile with something akin to disgust, the realization that he’d never viewed this friendship in the same light as you finally dawning on you. “Friends usually try to pay attention to little shit like that.”

“Yeah, well we’re a bit more than friends,” he smirked, glancing at you before bravely moving his hand to your thigh. You jerked at the touch, pulling away from him to turn towards the window. “So, uh, how’s Peña’s lab?”

“It’s good,” you managed, counting the streetlights as they passed by. 

“That’s shocking,” he chuckled. “What, he’s not a dick to them?”

“He is,” you shrugged. “But not to me.”

“For obvious reasons,” he chided. “Alondra told me about the whole don’t wear a skirt thing. Sounds like a fucking creep.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued, turning towards him. “And you can tell Alondra I’d appreciate it if she didn’t tell you all of my business.” 

“She was just looking out for me,” he said, giving you a frown. “Can’t have your professor trying shit if we’re gonna give this a real shot.”

“Derrick, I don’t—“

“No, just…let’s keep this date free of all that pessimist shit,” he snapped, reminding you of his inebriated state. Fuck, and you were in a car with this shithead? “Tonight I want you to put all that trauma aside for once and keep yourself open,” he demanded, causing your heart to race. 

What would happen if you didn’t? Would he hurt you? Would he shit talk you to all your friends? Would he make something up?

“Fine,” you managed, balling your hands into fists as they rested on your lap. 

After a car ride spent listening to him detail his summer of luxury, the two of you found yourselves seated in the restaurant located on the opposite side of town. You’d only been out in this area once to celebrate your first anniversary with Micah, though that time you were forced to split the bill. Derrick wouldn’t have any of that, not with his trust fund and need to prove himself. 

You didn’t speak much at dinner, not because you had nothing to say but because he wouldn’t stop talking. He’d covered everything from the first birthday he could remember to the day he first met you when you were both frightened freshmen on campus. Perhaps the trip down memory lane would’ve made you smile if it wasn’t for his wandering hands beneath the table. 

When the bill was paid and the two of you were on your way out, you thought the terrible night had finally come to a close. But of course it hadn’t. 

Derrick surprised you by pulling you into a dark alleyway, his hands greedy as he pulled you against his frame. You felt his lips on yours, taking and taking and giving you not a damn thing but a sick feeling of alarm in your stomach. 

“Derrick, stop,” you hissed, pushing against his chest as he continued to lean in, caging you against the stucco wall. 

“You want me,” he rasped, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his liquor-scented breath flooded your nostrils. “You’re just scared of it ending badly.”

“No,” you protested, continuing to push him away. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t feel that way for you.”

“Yet you showed up wearing this.” You froze as you felt his cold fingertips graze the outside of your thighs, inching his way closer to the hem of your skirt. “Just…let loose for once. Let your guard down and I swear you won’t regret it.”

“I already regret it,” you hissed, shoving him hard enough to cause him to drunkenly stumble back. “You’re drunk and acting like fucking dick.”

He shook his head, chuckling at your words or the situation, you couldn’t quite tell. “I want you.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Four fucking years of waiting around, then you finally decide to go out with me, and now…what? You’re just gonna act like a tease?” 

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you keep talking,” you warned, though you knew your strength was no match for his. Still, female rage and adrenaline fueled you, coaxing you into not giving a fuck about the outcome. If he pushed any harder, you’d gladly fuck around and find out. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

“Stop,” he whined, grabbing your wrist to keep you from leaving. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“I’m a bitch?” Fuck around and find out, it is. “I’ve been nothing but a good friend to you all these years, even knowing that you didn’t give a fuck about any of that. You’d rather I be in your sheets than in your life, that much is fucking clear now.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not cool to continue to give me hope—“

“I didn’t give you shit!” you yelled, yanking your wrist from his grasp. “How many times have we talked about this? How many times have you made me feel guilty for something I have no control over? I don’t want you, Derrick. I never have, and after tonight I certainly never will. Face it or don’t, but our friendship ends here.”

“We live together,” he reminded, stepping towards you. “You can’t avoid me like you avoid Micah.”

“Can’t I?” you chuckled, shaking your head. “You have no idea how easy it’ll be for me to pretend as if you never existed.”

He let out a huff of disbelief, shaking his head at you as if he had any right to feel disappointed. No, that right was yours alone in this situation. You thought you found a man who you could call a true friend, only to find out he was just as bad as the rest of them. Maybe worse given the way he manipulated you these past four years, all to earn your trust. 

You took off down the street, not caring about the looks you received from passersby. You just needed to get somewhere safe and call—

Fuck. Phone’s dead. 

With fear threatening to take over, you stumbled into the first open shop on the block, a very fancy looking cafe that was mostly stranded on the inside. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you huffed a sigh in order to rein in the tears threatening to spill as you swung the door open. 

“Welcome in,” the older woman behind the counter greeted, giving you a judgmental once over as your heels clacked against the hardwood floor on the way to the counter. “What can I get started for you?” 

“I was just wondering if there was any way I could use your phone to call a cab? I promise I’ll buy something—“

“I’m sorry, we don’t allow customers to use our phones,” she frowned, a display of mock sympathy that threatened to wear down your last remaining nerve. 

“I understand, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency,” you pleaded. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am,” she sighed. “Phones are for employee use only. Perhaps you can find a payphone or—“

The woman was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. Stomach sinking to the floor, you turned to find Dr. Peña sitting in a booth by the window with his laptop. 

Fucking perfect. 

“Dr. Peña.” You greeted him with a sigh and a forced smile, reluctantly heading towards his booth. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving you a quick once over before lifting his eyes back yours. 

“Yeah,” you lied, giving him a quick nod. He tilted his head and you and gave you a look as if to say liar. Letting out the saddest, weakest laugh you might’ve ever uttered, you decided to hell with pride. “No, I’m…it’s been a long night.”

He ticked his jaw as he considered you for a moment, leaving you in sickening suspense. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to hear about all that,” you assured, wiping a tear from your waterline. 

“I do,” he insisted, nudging his chin towards the other side of the booth. “Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Sit,” he ordered, that stern voice cutting through the clouds of self pity and anger still looming overhead. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black is fine,” you lied, slipping into the booth as gracefully as your skirt would allow. 

It took him a few minutes to return, that time spent locked inside your head, watching a replay from an eagle's eye point of view. Derrick's hands on your body, his lips on yours, his vile claims and threats sounding over and over. 

“So,” he said, handing you your cup as he sat down in front of his laptop before closing it. “What happened?”

“I don’t…I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” you prefaced, earning a hesitant nod. “Derrick—

“Mr. Crawley?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He’s been my friend for years now, we live together…but he has this really bad habit of not taking no for an answer.” Dr. Peña tensed, his jaw clenching. “That’s why I agreed to go out with him tonight, because I was just sick of having to explain that I only saw him as a friend. Thought I’d just get it over with, but that didn’t really go as planned.”

“Did he…try something?” he asked, his voice low and tense. You shrugged, questioning the entire interaction. If you hadn’t stopped him, if you hadn’t been brave enough to tell him no, would he have stopped? Did what he did really constitute assault? 

“I don’t know. Sort of,” you explained, tracing the rim of your cup as you spoke. “Dinner was shit enough, but then he cornered me in an alley, trying to cage me against a wall and…touch me, but I stopped him. Then he turned into this entirely different person than I’ve known all this time, called me a bitch and a tease. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize my phone was dead when I took off down the block, and now I’m stranded on this side of town. And truthfully, I don’t even know if going home is a good idea.”

Javier leaned back in his seat, raking his hands over his face. 

“I have a sinking feeling that if I go home, he’s just going to start shit again, which is the last thing I want right now.”

He nodded, understanding and sympathy in his eyes as he took a beat to think. 

“Firstly, I’m incredibly proud of you for sticking up for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and you did it.” You refused to keen under his praise the way your heart demanded to. “If I’d have just put up with it—“

“Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “You did the brave thing and the right thing. He’s too fucking old to not know the difference between a woman who wants him and one who doesn’t. This shit is on him, alright?” 

You gave him a meek nod, still not able to look him in the eye. 

“I know you said you don’t want anyone to get in trouble, and I’ll respect that, but know that if you decide to report him, I’ll back you,” he offered, his eyes rounding and voice softening. “I don’t think you should go home. I—“ He sighed, lowering his hand to rest beside yours on the table. “I can drive you to a hotel, and if you need me to pay for it, I will. That way I’ll know you’re safe, and you’ll have your own space for the night.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” you assured. 

“No, it isn’t, but it’s late and you’ve clearly been through enough tonight,” he said. “But it’s your choice. I can call you a cab if that’s more comfortable.”

“Isn’t that…sort of against the rules? You giving me a ride?” 

He let out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s not ideal, but I don’t care about that right now,” he confessed, his pinky reaching out to brush against yours. “I just care about you being safe and comfortable.”

You bit your lip, eyes glued to his hand that seemed to be fighting an internal war over whether or not to reach out for yours. “I won’t feel safe and comfortable in a hotel. I’d just feel…alone.”

“I can’t,” he whispered to himself, moving his hand to his face. 

“Can’t what?” 

“Can’t do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I can’t keep you company tonight.” 

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know what you meant, and I’m telling you I can’t let a student of mine crash at my place,” he sighed, conflict weighing on his face. “I’ll take you to a hotel and you can call a friend to stay with you.”

“I’m not going to let you pay for my hotel,” you protested. “That’s not happening.”

“Then what?” he asked, dropping his hand to the table. 

“I don’t know,” you snapped. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Here,” he handed you his phone. “Call a cab, they’re safer than an Uber.”

You stared at the unlocked screen, debating whether or not you truly wanted to handle things on your own or accept the help offered to you, even if it meant spending a night alone in a foreign environment, stuck with the flashbacks of Derrick’s hands on your body, his lips on your mouth. There was no safety in that, in being prisoner to awful memories you had no part in creating. The truth was that you needed him to distract you from yourself, and you didn’t care if you had to grovel or beg for it. 

“I’m asking you to please just…stay,” you whispered, too close to tears to speak up. “We don’t have to go to your place. We can go to the library for all I fucking care, I just don’t want to be alone. All my friends are his friends and I know what they’ll say about tonight. Everyone loves him, everyone wants to be his friend, and I’m just…around. They won’t believe me, and even if they do, they won’t see it the way I do.” 

Javier looked ready to tell me to fuck off and go find someone else to bother with all my problems, but threw me for a loop when he said, “Fine. Grab your coffee, and…here.” He held out a black leather jacket that smelled like him; whiskey, smoke, and warm spice. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, standing and draping the jacket over your shoulders as he gathered his things. 

“My office,” he said, his tone clipped and sharp. “It’s the only place where people won’t be around to see us. Not that I really give a shit, but you should.”

“You haven’t done anything but help me,” you offered. “I don’t care if people talk. You and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“They don’t give a shit,” he countered, leading you out of the cafe. “Besides, we’re already breaking rules. Even if we aren’t acting on anything—“

“Is there anything to act on?” you probed, sticking close to him out of fear Derrick was still around searching for you. Dr. Peña shot you a knowing look over his shoulder. 

“There’s enough to drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted. 

You stopped in your tracks, shocked—and twistedly pleased—at his confession. He noticed your reaction, stopping to turn around and look at you with a pleading expression. 

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know what you meant,” you echoed his words from earlier. He ground his jaw and looked down at the sidewalk for a beat before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. You watched his lips mold around the cigarette as he took a deep drag, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain. 

“I’m not…” He shook his head again, looking up at the night sky. “I’ve been teaching now for five years. Never once have I done this shit. Never once have I let myself get involved. Until you.”

“Dr—“

“Javier,” he cut you off. “Call me Javier when it’s just us. It’ll make me feel better about how fucked up this is.”

“What’s fucked up about a woman in her late twenties and a man in his thirties talking?” you asked, stepping closer to him to feel a bit more of the thrill that did such a good job at blocking out all the bad shit going through your head. 

“I’m your professor,” he explained, watching you carefully. “There are rules against me developing this exact infatuation I can’t seem to fucking shake.”

“You’re infatuated with me?” you chuckled, more out of shock than amusement. Though you’d obviously sensed he saw some sort of potential in you that caused him to act like less of a dick than he did with everyone else, you’d have never guessed in a million years that he was interested in you. 

Javier chuckled darkly, stepping closer to you until you could smell his cologne. “Infatuated is an understatement.”

“And what would you say if I told you I was just as infatuated?” you asked, closing the gap between the two of you as you lifted your hand to rest on his chest. Not pushing him away like with Derrick, but beckoning him closer. 

He whispered your name, sending chills down your spin. “We can’t.”

“We’re not doing anything,” you countered, sliding your hand up to the back of his neck just to feel those soft brown waves that have been calling your name this last week. Javier grabbed your hand and lowered it gently, his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I’ll stay up with you tonight so that you can feel safe, but that’s it,” he whispered, his eyes darting across your face. “Okay?”

You wanted to frown, to throw a fit and beg him to not be such a stand-up guy, but that would be like asking a fish not to swim, the wind not to blow, a fire not to burn. He simply was a stand-up man and no amount of seduction could change that. “Okay.”

He let out a soft sigh, stepping away from you. 

“You’re lucky I have shit to grade tonight,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. “You might consider helping me with some of that, TA.”

You chuckled, nodding. “After a nap.”

“Sure,” he chided. “Take it that’s code for hell no.”

“Would you look at that. You’re more clever than you look, Professor.” 

[fullsunstrawberry]

NCT Reaction:

Sitting on their lap during car ride

MINORS DNI!!

warning** smutty

a/n: Happy Valentines, here some smutty reactions 😍this is literally one of my favorite smut trope btw ^ ^

{dreamie masterlist}

Mark:

he could not believe this was happening to him

Mark made the mistake of telling Johnny that he started to have feelings for you

He told Jonny because he always tells Johnny everything!

But Johnny already knew mark had a crush on you. It’s not his fault Mark is just so easy to read.

He knew Mark wouldn’t do anything about it so he had to do something 🫣

Johnny’s plan was simple, force you two to be close.

You and Mark didn’t bat an eye when Johnny suggested a small road trip

What you didn’t expect was there to be only 6 seats and 7 people.

Johnny was driving and Jaehyun was already in the passager seat. Doyoung, Taeyong, and Jungwoo already called dibs on the middle row.

That means you and Mark had to squish yourselves into the small back seat of the car. 

You’re probably thinking, the backseat is enough for two people to sit in!

Not when Johnny insisted on putting the two connected seats down to fit his huge cooler.

“Where am I supposed to sit” You questioned raising your eyebrow at Johnny.

“I’m not moving my cooler, so better hurry up and get comfortable on Mark’s lap” Johnny insisted, pushing you towards the car.

Once you were somewhat comfortable on Mark’s lap you decided to put some headphones on and rest your head on Mark’s shoulder. Quickly falling to sleep.

You woke up to Mark lightly shaking your shoulder.

“Johnny decided to stop at a rest stop, do you need to use the bathroom?”

You looked around noticing all the guys have left the car. You turn your body to look at Mark when you notice he was blushing. You didn’t realize why until you moved to get up. Stopping when you felt something touch your butt.

Quickly you sat back down on Mark, which resulted in a moan.

Shocked you looked at Mark, he had his eyes closed and his lip between his teeth.

Without saying another word you moved your hips

Which resulted in another moan from Mark.

“We don’t have much time please keep moving” Mark groans putting his hands on your hip to help you move faster.

Renjun:

Renjun was surprised when you sat on his lap and started to explain there was no room left.

This is really surprising to him because why did you pick him? You were a lot closer with other members.

But hey, hes not complaining!

Even the other members were surprised to see you on Renjun’s lap.

“I’m not sitting on any of you guys’ laps! You’re all perverts!” you waved your finger at all of them.

Jaemin started to laugh, which made all the other members laugh too.

You turned your face towards renjun. “You’re the best choice out of all of them”.

The car ride was calm up until the driver wanted to take a short cut. Which meant taking a dirt road.

Once the first bump hit, you felt renjun’s arms tighten around your waist.

You wiggled your body a little bit because you started to fall off of him.

“Please stop moving” Renjun whimpered

Your eyes widened when you felt why he wanted you to stop moving.

You started to hear a small giggle from behind you.

“I’m a man y/n, I can’t help it!”

You looked around the car to see if anyone was watching you two.

 Luckily all of them were either asleep or had headphones on.

You then turned back around putting your lips near renjun’s ear

“I knew you were a perv” you whispered, lightly grinding down on him.

Jeno:

He thought you and Haechan had something going on. So when there weren’t enough seats in the car, he thought it was obvious. You were going to sit on Haechan’s lap. 

When you were shoved onto his lap, he was beyond confused. 

“You’re making my legs hurt!” Haechan whined. 

“I’m sorry, he didn’t even ask if you were okay with me sitting on your lap.” You apologized putting your head into his chest because you were embarrassed. 

This made Jeno giggle. “ I don’t mind.” 

When about 5 minutes passed of Jeno showing you funny pictures on his phone, Haechan sighed “Okay, my legs are better.” while grabbing your arm to pull you back on him. 

But you shooed his hand away

“I said my legs feel better now.” Haechan pouted, pulling you off Jeno. 

Instead of letting Haechan pull you back, you pulled your arm out of his grip and fell back into Jeno’s lap. 

As you landed you heard a low groan, Jeno lifted his head and quickly looked around to make sure no one else heard it. 

Thankfully no one but you heard it. 

Haechan huffed out a small ‘fine’ before turning away from you two. 

You brought your lips to Jeno’s ear “did I hurt you?” You whispered. 

“yes, but it felt so good..” 

You positioned yourself better on his lap. 

your eyes widened and your face grew red when you noticed a certain problem in his pants.  

“I’m sorry.” Jeno hid his face in your neck. 

As you were about to respond, the driver pulled into a small gas station. 

You leaned down to whisper in Jeno’s ear once more. “Let’s go fix that problem.”

Jeno’s eyes widened and he let out a small “please!”

Haechan:

You weren't really close to any of the 127 members. Only knowing them because you were friends with Haechan and the Dreamies.

When Haechan heard Taeyong wanted to have a road trip to a camping sight he found, he automatically asked if you could go since some members already said they didn’t want to go. 

Taeyong at first said no because it was supposed to be a group bonding thing. But when Doyoung brought up the fact Haechan wouldn’t annoy them as much with you there, Taeyong quickly told Haechan to invite you.

You were excited to get closer to the 127 members and spend the time camping with Haechan. 

After your roommate dropped you off at the guys' dorm, you quickly said your goodbyes. Turning to Haechan helping Johnny pack the car with stuff. 

“Hope you know we only have a few tents, so we have to share a tent.” Haechan shot you a wink. 

“Maybe I should just go back home.” You joked. 

“Noooo” Haechan whined, you shot him a playful wink back and moved to hand him your bag so he can find a spot to put it. 

You noticed all the seats beside the one in the back and the front seat open. Assuming the front seat is for Johnny, you were confused. 

“Umm why is there only one seat left?” you questioned furrowing your eyebrows.

“Guess we're not only sharing a tent today!” Haechan joked. 

Rolling your eyes you waited for him to sit down. 

You were already regretting coming. 

Once the drive started, it wasn’t that bad. 

What you didn’t know was Haechan was fighting himself. 

He felt like he had a little devil and angel on his shoulder. One tells him to pull you closer and the other one tells him not to risk it. 

But he didn’t care what his angel was telling him, already snaking his arms around you to pull you closer. 

You jolted in shock. Making Haechan let out a small groan. 

Once you realized he was being a horny bastard you decided to tease him. Rubbing yourself into him.

He grabbed your hips to help you move a little faster. When you randomly stopped. resulting in him letting out a small whine. 

“If you be good and wait I’ll stay in a tent with you.”

Jaemin:

When there weren’t any more seats available, Jaemin offered to share his seat.

You thanked him and placed yourself on his lap.

You knew you messed up when you looked at Jeno and he winked while moving his eyebrows up and down.

You turned your attention back to Jaemin when he took his right arm and wrapped it around your waist.

He then took his phone out of his pocket to watch tiktoks, while resting his head on your shoulder.

The car ride wasn’t bad at all, it was filled with different conversations and laughter.

It wasn’t until a certain bump in the road made you hyper-aware of your position on Jaemin

You felt something poking at your butt. You turned to Jaemin and started to giggle.

“What’s poking me?” you whispered, not wanting all eyes to be on you two

“oh sorry it’s just my phone” He laughed turning to look around the car.

“Jaemin, your phone is in your hand..”

He starts to laugh again “what do you want me to say y/nnnn” he whined.

You decided to test the waters, grinding your body slowly into Jaemin. 

Jaemin reached under your skirt, silently thanking the fact you brought a small blanket to cover your legs. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game y/n.” 

Chenle:

Ten invited you and Chenle to hang out. 

It was a little awkward because they were catching up and you felt out of place, wondering why you were invited in the first place.

Well, Ten knew Chenle had the biggest crush on you but was a coward. 

So he decided to help Chenle without him knowing. 

Once you all finished your food, Ten asked if you’d ever been to the new museum that just opened up. 

He was shocked (Not really) when you and Chenle both have never gone. 

Insisting you all go right now!

The problem? You and Chenle walked and Ten drove a two-seater car.

You told Ten that you could always go another day, but Ten whined about not knowing when his next vacation was.  

Chenle already got into the car and motioned you to sit on his lap. 

“Fine, just make sure you don’t get into an accident.” You shot Ten a glare. 

Ten laughed before getting into the driver's seat. 

The drive was nice, up until Ten started to show off how fast his car can go. 

Forcing Chenle to hold you in a tighter grip and closer to his body. 

“Hold on” Ten quickly said. Starting to go even faster, pushing your body into Chenle’s. 

You felt something twitch but you did have much time to speak because Ten was taking a sharp turn causing you to grab to the car door. 

“ We’re here!” Ten smiled while parking and then getting out of the car. 

You turned to look at Chenle, but his eyes were closed and he let out a whisper of small curses. 

You turn your head to look for Ten, noticing he was nowhere to be seen. 

Turning your head back to Chenle, you smiled “I think you enjoyed that a little too much.” You laughed nodding your head down at his now-tight jeans. 

“Thank god Ten has tinted windows,” Chenle spoke before grabbing your face and pulling you in a rough kiss. 

Jisung:

There wasn’t enough room for everyone to fit into the van.

You offered to order a Uber or a Lyft but since Jisung invited you he felt guilty. Offering to give up his own seat for you.

You told him it was fine and he didn’t have to give up his seat

But since he didn’t want to take no for an answer, you pushed him back into his seat and sat on his lap.

You made sure there was room in between, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You turned to Jisung and his face was bright red. That’s when you heard a bunch of whistles.

(he grew up around guys so this is the most action he has ever got)

You gave the other members a glare. “oh shut up, aren’t you all supposed to be adults!”

The ride was a little awkward because Jisung didn’t really say anything unless he was spoken too

This was fine but even when you started talking to him, he only gave you short responses.

Once the driver took a sharp turn, you grabbed onto Jisung’s thigh to keep you in place.

You turned to apologize but instead, you heard a quiet moan.

You were shocked when you repositioned yourself on his lap.

He had a little…big… problem

Before you could say anything the car stopped and everyone started to get out of the car.

You turned to Mark and spoke with an innocent smile “Jisung and I are going to stop at the convenience store first, don’t wait up!”

Once everyone was out of the car, Jisung spoke up “Please start moving again”

[tightjeansjavi]

My Dearest,

A/N: so, while I was in Galena for my girls trip this weekend…my friend and I went into a bookstore and that’s where the inspiration struck! Ulysses Grant wrote letters to his wife (My Dearest Julia) from June 4th, 1844 to February 2, 1854. Of course I immediately had to throw Joel into the narrative, with a twist ;) please have your tissue boxes at the ready for this one and remember, fiction can’t hurt you! Also, big thank you and kisses to @beardedjoel for sobbing along with me while I wrote these series of letters 💘 P.S I know California wasn’t founded as a state until 1850…but let’s just pretend!

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: a series of letters written by Joel Miller, a hopeless romantic yearning for your embrace once more.

Pairing | forbidden love!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, allusion to smut, infertility, pining, hopeless romantic, unrequited love, forbidden love, major character death, alcoholism, death by alcohol poisoning, yearning, no age gap, mentions of social status, somewhat historically accurate language, no happy ending, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is my dearest, +18 minors dni! (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealously drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel.

-

July 13, 1844

My Dearest,

California is beautiful and my eyes are seeing the ocean for the very first time. I wonder what your view is? Last I heard you were moving to New York. Is it true? Please tell me it’s a lie. I would be naive to think that what is written in the papers to be false, but my heart is still holding on. Are you moving to New York because of me? I’m so sorry, my dearest. We should have been more careful. I can still smell your perfume, and feel the ghost of your lips on my skin. I am no poet, but if I was, perhaps your father would think highly of me.

I dream of you even in the daytime.

Please write to me, dearest.

J.M

-

September, 7th 1844

My Dearest,

There is a sweetness on my tongue that I have not felt the indulgence of for many moons and suns. I worried that I would never hear from you again, that I would become another distant memory fading into ash. I forbade this from happening, dearest. We are thousands of miles apart, and all I wish for is to see your face once more. Do you wish for the same, dearest? To see your Joel, to feel his warm embrace? Please don’t forget me, please. I know in your heart that you still feel for me. California calls your name as it did mine. Come back to me, dearest.

Yours most affectionately,

Joel

-

January 12th, 1845

My Dearest,

I have not heard from you in months and my heart cannot bare it any longer. Why do you not write to me, dearest? I’ve enrolled in classes, maybe I’ll even become the next great American author! Would your father accept me then, if I was no longer a penniless man? I think he would. Your father is a very simple man in those regards. If only my status in society didn’t matter. Do you lie awake in bed and think of me, dearest? Does your dream state float off to the thoughts of your Joel? My dearest, my love for you has not changed, only grown stronger. Has yours for me felt all the same?

Joel

-

July 11th, 1845

My Dearest,

I write to you with a heavy heart and an anger that has never once possessed me. Please tell me it isn’t true. That you have fallen for another, the rich banker's son? It cannot be true. The papers lie, dearest. Your heart belongs to me, does it not? It must. You promised! You said that no matter what happened, no matter the consequences, we would end up together. You spoke those words so sweetly upon my ear when I laid beneath your sheets, dearest. Back in Texas, in your abandoned home, the stench of me still lingers. When you receive this letter, close your eyes and imagine me there with you, wherever that may be. I’ll come to New York, I swear it. I’ll come find you!

Please, write to me soon, dearest. Do not allow this to be the end of our story, I beg of you.

Yours always,

Joel Miller

-

October, 1845

My Dearest,

This morning I write to you about the thoughts of reminiscing on our love. Something so sweet, fresh, ripened, but not yet spoiled. Do you remember the night we first met? We were just children then. All bright eyed and filled with curiosity. I remember the bows in your braided hair, your mother scolding you for them, slapping your cheek and yanking them from your braids. You wept with your face buried in your hands, and I comforted you. Your mother taught you how to curtsey, how to engage in small talk and forced you to wear those unbreathable garments that you hated so. I showed you how to run, to make mud pies and swim in the river. Do you remember the night of our first kiss? The first time our lips touched and my life held a meaning again? The foul mouthed, stable hand boy winning the affections of a girl such as you. If I bring my fingers to my lips now, I can feel your kiss there, too. I moved back to Texas, dearest. I wanted to feel closer to you. Write to me soon, and in your letter tell me that you wish for me to come to New York to be with you.

I am inconsolable without your presence at my side.

Yours devotedly,

Joel Miller

P.S. Every night I pray to the moon and stars that we will be in one another’s embrace very soon. I have never been a religious man by any means, but I find myself praying for you, my dearest.

-

March 29th, 1846

My Dearest,

It is spring once again, and everything is in bloom! A new family has moved into your abandoned home, and I am back to my roots. I have given up my dreams to be an author, but I write to you, still. I missed being around the horses more than you could possibly imagine. There’s a piece missing here, and that piece is you. The new family I work for has a daughter around your age. She’s pretty, beautiful even, but she’s not you, my dearest. She’ll never be you. Her hair isn’t the right length, her eyes the wrong shade, her laugh isn’t yours, her mannerisms are all wrong. She yearns for my affections, but my heart belongs to another. I will not commit adultery against you, my sweet. Even in my loneliest hours, I will not give into my sins against you. She would make a fine wife, and her parents are unlike your own, but she will never be you, and she will never possess my heart.

I yearn for you.

Your Joel

-

July 2nd, 1846

My Dearest,

I write to you with sweat dripping down my brow. I cannot sleep, the Texas heat has played a cruel trick upon my mind. I awoke to your voice, whispering my name through the billowing curtains. I taste your sweet kiss and the oncoming summer storm, but you are not here. Am I going insane? I fear that I am. What is the weather like in New York? Write to me soon, I beg of you.

Joel Miller

-

September 23rd, 1847

My Dearest,

I am facing my loneliest night yet, and I picture you laying beside me beneath my sheets. I have scrapped up enough money to finally buy you a ring! Isn’t that the most wonderful news? Tomorrow evening, after supper, I will head into town to the jewelers and buy you a ring that shines more brilliantly than the heavens above. You’ll wait for me, won’t you? Promise me that you will.

With love,

Your Joel

-

January, 1848

My Dearest,

Today is the day where I wish I never awoke. I wish to stay in a sweet slumber where my dreams are filled with you. You cannot marry him, please. Tell your father that you don’t accept the banker's son’s hand in marriage! He will never know you as I do, my dearest. He will never satisfy you the way that I can. He will turn his nose up at your politics, your drinking habits, your antics and wildness. But I love you as so. Come back to me, runaway with me. I can give you so much happiness if you only let me. How will your husband to-be react when he finds that you cannot bear him children? When the marriage is to be consummated, and he strips you of your skirts and touches you where only I have been, how will he feel? I worry for you, my dearest. I remember the night that we first became one. Do you still think of the way I moved in you? I still feel the phantom crescents of your nails in my back. I wish the marks left there were permanent, so I would always have a piece of you with me. Tell me that you remember the way that my kisses feel, my taste on your tongue, my voice, my body moving with yours. There was a time when you wanted to bear my children, and begged me to fill your womb with my seed. We waited and waited, but your womb never swelled with life no matter how many times we tried. You assumed my feelings for you would sour, but they only grew.

If you accept the banker's son's hand in marriage, I wish to never see the sunrise again.

Joel Miller

-

May 7th, 1848

My Dearest,

I have never wept more than I have this morn. I shredded the papers, I pounded my fists into the earth and spooked every horse in the stable. Even the heavens weep with me, my dearest. Can I even call you that any longer? You wear his ring upon your finger, awake beneath his sheets, smelling of him. I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m sorry I could never be enough for you. I have tried so hard, and have continued to fail. My heart aches, and I wish I could rip it from my chest and stab it till all movement ceases. I wish to not feel any longer. I have lost all hope, and I fear that my attempts to hear from you have been fruitless. My devoted letters are out there, somewhere. Or perhaps you have collected them. Perhaps you did not awaken in his sheets. Perhaps you are on your way back to me. I’ll wait for you, my dearest.

Undoubtedly yours,

Joel Miller

-

June 4th, 1848

My Dearest,

In my loneliest hour, I write to you. If you ever receive this letter, do not weep for me. You and I were cut from a separate cloth since birth. I was not born into wealth. I was not fed from silver spoons. My clothes are tattered, the soles of my boots are worn down. All I have to my name is my penmanship and my memories of you. Think of me sweetly, will you? I wish you only happiness and love. I have turned into a drunk, my dearest. Alcohol soothes my mind, woes, and ailments. I hear your voice so vividly when I am in this state. You’re here beside me now, watching as I write my final letter. I can reach out and touch your cheek, soft, supple. You smell of saccharine honey and lavender fields. Your laugh is my favorite tune, and I can hear it now. Sing me a lullaby, my darling as I close my eyes and dream of you for a final time. If another universe exists, I hope I am rich. I hope I am the wealthiest man who is adored by your mother and father. I hope that on the night we meet again, I present you with a ring forged from my heart, a piece of me that has forever belonged to you. I hope I am fed from a silver spoon, dressed in the finest garments, attend every gala with you on my arm as my lady, my wife, my reason to live. I hope to bless you with as many children as you so desire. I have always loved you, my dearest, from the moment we met, I have been yours.

Farewell,

Your Joel.

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