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maximoff-pan · 11 months ago

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the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.”

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens.

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too.

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it.

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to.

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist.

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband.

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children.

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington.

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?”

“How will you get it to her?” He questions.

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it.

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered.

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her.

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation.

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way.

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in.

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you.

“I never do.” Is your instant reply.

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested.

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion.

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through.

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.”

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you.

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.”

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that.

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.”

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge.

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak.

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won.

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot.

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.”

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong.

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you.

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column.

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say.

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym.

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to.

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n).

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling.

“What am I going to do?”

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you.

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has.

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so.

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you.

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now.

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions.

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well.

We need to talk.

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that.

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her.

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you.

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too.

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.”

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm.

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor.

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing.

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all.

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader

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chuulyssa · 8 months ago

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🇨 🇴 🇳 🇫 🇪 🇸 🇸 🇮 🇴 🇳 ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

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authorhjk1 · 3 months ago

Text

SNSD Village

Season 1 Episode 1 :

Pilot

(Tiffany Hwang X Male Reader)

You drop your bag in the green chair, before sitting down on the white couch.

“Sorry I’m late, Jisoo. Ms. Park wouldn’t let us go.”

Jisoo looks up from her laptop.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re helping me out.”

She gives you a thankful smile.

“Don’t mention it. How much have you written so far?”

You slowly settle in as you take your keys out of the back pocket of your jeans and place them on the table.

Your phone joins them. It’s a hot summer day and the screen has some of your sweat on it. But the cool air of the small cafe turns the outside heat into a distant memory.

“Not very far, to be honest.”

Jisoo sighs, before sliding the laptop over the wooden surface.

“Since they're looking for someone who has experience in their field, I mentioned that I’m currently working here.”

You nod your head in agreement as you start reading her job application.

“You could also mention you’re looking after my little sister.”

As you start writing, Jisoo interrupts.

“But that doesn’t have much to do with this receptionist job.”

You look to your left.

“Why not? It’s a way of saying, you can handle difficult people.”

“Oh, please.”

She playfully hits your shoulder.

“Seri isn’t difficult.”

“Oh, trust me. She is.”

“She is four. Plus, Mrs. Seo would kill us both, if she heard how I let you speak about her daughter.”

“You’re right. Mom would kill us.”

You both share a laugh in agreement.

At that moment, your phone lights up. You check who texted you before the screen turns dark again. Your friend, Seogun. Something about a video.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

You put your phone back into your pocket.

“Let’s finish this first.”

Jisoo smiles at you as she pulls the laptop back in front of herself.

“I really appreciate this.”

Just as you are about to touch up Jisoo’s resume, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hi there, young man. How was school today?”

“Hello, Mrs. Kwon:”

Your lips return the genuine smile the owner of the cafe shoots your way.

“It was alright. Ms. Park’s class sucked. As always. Especially when she found out that a lot of people didn’t do their homework. Eunha should start writing stuff down. She always forgets we have homework.”

“Oh, yes. Ms. Park was never my daughter’s favorite teacher either. Poor Eunha though. Her mother is always putting so much pressure on her. But she will grow up eventually.”

Mrs. Kwon is right. Your classmate Eunha is a good student. It’s just that she is also quite clumsy and forgetful.

She sends another smile your way. Only now do you notice that she is holding two bowls of ice cream.

“Enjoy yourselves. It’s on the house.”

She places them in front of the two of you.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kwon.”

You and Jisoo say in union, which makes the older woman’s smile grow bigger.

“I’m sad to see you leave, Jisoo. I really enjoyed having you here.”

"I liked working here a lot.”

“You know, Eunbi is currently doing her gap year. Maybe she can help you find something new?”

“I appreciate your help, Mrs. Kwon. It means a lot to me.”

The older woman waves it off.

“Don’t mention it.”

You see someone at the table outside raising her arm, signaling her that she is ready to order.

“Eat up.”

Ms. Kwon motions towards the sundaes, before walking outside. Jisoo is eating hers as you feel the vibration of your phone inside your pocket. Now you do check what Seogun sent you. You quickly put the phone back into your pocket.

“I-I’m gonna be back in a minute.”

“Sure.”

The message fills you with excitement. You knew it. You knew she had one.

You lock the door behind you, after entering the small restroom. You sit down on the lid of the closed toilet. The turquoise fabric of the cushion on the lid matches the interior of the cafe. Pulling out your phone, you quickly open your chat with Seogun again.

Dude I found her!!!

Check this out

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insta: your_tiffany

After making sure the volume of your phone is on the lowest setting, you press play on the video he sent you. As the buffering cycle appears, you check out the title. “Trying out my new toy. Enjoy!”

When the video starts playing, you can’t believe your eyes. It’s actually Ms. Hwang. You recognize her surroundings instantly. The beach. That spot is barely five minutes away from the cafe.

“Hi there, cutie.”

You focus on Ms. Hwang, who is kneeling on a large blanket. Her short pants and her top look so sexy on her. You saw her wear this outfit once or twice before. Just looking at her like this makes you unbutton your jeans. As Ms Hwang waves into the camera, your pants are already sliding down your legs.

“This is a thank you to the person who sent me this.”

You watch her reach behind herself. Her hand reappears, holding a big dildo. You can’t tell how long it is exactly. The bottom is flat, so your classmate’s mother is able to place it on the towel.

“Let’s see what this bad boy does to me.”

With a flirtatious smile, she starts to strip. Your eyes are glued to your screen as Ms. Hwang's top lands on the towel. She was wearing nothing underneath. You can’t believe you’re seeing Yeji’s mother topless; she would die of embarrassment if she knew.

You start to rub your cock over your boxers as you watch her playing with her breasts. They are slightly smaller than you thought they would be. Trying to take in every detail, you watch how one of her hands slowly glides over her tummy. You start to take your boxers off as Ms.Hwang rubs herself over her shorts. The erotic hum she produces gives you goosebumps. You’ve watched porn before. You even had a girlfriend. But this is different. She is someone you know. You even saw her yesterday. You said hello. And there she is. On her knees. Slowly taking off her denim shorts.

By now, your boxers have joined your jeans around ýour ankles. You slowly stroke yourself to your classmate’s mother stripping. You’ve fantasized about her more than just once. It happened more frequently, after you picked up a small part of Ms. Im’s conversation with her. It made you and your friend look for exactly this.

Once Ms. Hwang's Shorts are off, your eyes wander up her full thighs. Her smooth skin almost seems to glow in the light of the rising sun. Your eyes finally reach her core. You take in her beautiful pussy, which is slightly glistening with arousal. You remember how your ex girlfriend looked when she was naked. This is something different. Ms. Hwang looks sexier, more mature.

“I’m so wet already.”

She gives the camera a mischievous smile as she lets her fingers run along her folds. Your classmate’s mother reaches for the plastic dildo next to her.

“Thank you so much for this.”

She gives you a wink. You watch how two of her fingers, which were running along her folds, are now slipping inside of her. Ms. Hwang closes her eyes. As she slowly fingers herself, she starts to stroke the dildo. Unconsciously you match her pace and rhythm. It almost seems like she is actually working your cock. It feels better than usual. More real.

When Yeji’s mother lifts the dildo off the towel, you can only stare. Her lips close around the pink tip. You stroke yourself faster as her cheeks hollow. Ms. Hwang starts to actually suck the pink dildo, which barely fits into her mouth. She keeps fingering herself at the same time, her hips slightly bucking towards her hand.

“I’ve been so horny since I got this.”

She just pulled the plastic out of her mouth. A smile on her face.

“You guys know how much I like a nice cock.”

Ms. Hwang places the dildo right in front of herself, her fingers slipping out of her pussy. You see them glistening with her juices.

You watch her raise her hips as she sends another seductive look in the direction of the camera. The tip of the dildo parts her pussy lips as she moves forward a little. Yeji’s mother bites her lip. You feel a familiar feeling rising in your stomach. You imagine that you are there on the beach. With Ms. Hwang. You stroke yourself faster, envisioning that you’re lying underneath her. That it’s your tip that penetrates her pussy. That it’s your cock she slowly impales herself on.

Your breathing becomes faster as you’re just about to climax. You watch Ms.Hwang slowly moving up and down. Her pussy lips glide along the shaft. Her moans make you groan. Your toes curl. Another moan from her. Another groan from you.

“When are you gonna be back?”

You ask, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“I don’t know. An hour?"

“Alright. Drive safe.”

Jisoo smiles back at you, before getting into her car. Well, not her car. More like your mother’s company’s car. If Jisoo had enough money to buy herself a car, she wouldn’t need to take care of your sister.

You watch her drive off. As soon as she is out of sight, you start running. 60 minutes. That should be more than enough. An evil smile appears on your face as you jump over the small white fence of your mother’s garden. It barely reaches your knee. You are going to make Yeji pay. The two of you have been at each other's throats since you both can remember. But today, you will finally come out on top.

You quickly unlock the terrace door. Run through the big living room. Speed up the stairs. Barge into your room. Let your bag fall on the ground next to the door and quickly sit down on your chair.

You open your phone again. You open your and Seogun’s chat. After a glance at the thumbnail of the video you watched earlier, you click on the first link. Ms.Hwang’s Onlyfans page appears. You quickly scroll through her profile.

Hi, sweetie! Subscribe now and get 10% off! I will send you a sexy welcome pic!

That video alone would make you win your fight over Yeji. And with that promised picture, Yeji would probably never dare to speak up against you ever again. Your thumb hovers over the blue subscribe button. Just when you’re about to hit it, you remember that your mom sometimes checks your bank account. She caught you buying alcohol before, despite not being 21 yet. She almost killed you. If she finds out you are paying someone for porn… Especially someone you and her both personally know…A shiver runs down your spine. No. You can’t risk it. This isn’t worth it. Your mother can be scary as hell.

You get off Ms. Hwang's Onlyfans page and click on her Instagram link. Her Instagram Bio is the same as the one on her Onlyfans. You quickly skim through her reels and select a random one. It starts with Ms. Hwang gasping, her mouth wide open as she pretends to look down.

“Oh my gosh! You're huge!”

You start rubbing your cock through your jeans. You can’t help it. Yeji’s mom is just so fucking hot.

“You didn’t tell me you are this big.”

Ms. Hwang bites her lip, while smiling into the camera.

“I’m not sure it’s gonna fit.”

“Fuck it.”

You curse, stripping yourself off your pants and underwear. As you keep scrolling through all her recent reels, you stroke your cock. Every reel makes Ms. Hwang look like a slut. In one, she pretends to pick something up while bending over. You can clearly see under her skirt. In another one, she has tight yoga pants on. You don’t even pay attention to what she is saying, your eyes are glued to her cameltoe.

A couple of minutes later, you are fully dressed again. You can’t believe you just came twice within two hours to videos of Yeji’s mother. Having just watched most of her recent reels, you now check out some of her pictures. You do recognize some of those outfits, but others are new to you.

Scrolling back to the top of her page, your eyes get caught up on one of her most recent pics. Ms. Hwang is kneeling on the floor, only wearing a set of blue lingerie. Your heart beats faster when you read the caption.

Looking for someone near my place to shoot some content with. Send me a DM if you’re down for some fun.

You hesitate after reading it a couple of times. It sounds too good to be true. It could very well be a scam, so she can tempt more people to subscribe to her Onlyfans. Would it be worth a shot? Why not? You don’t have anything to lose. You click on the message button. What to write her though? You can’t tell her it’s you. She would probably say no immediately. That thought makes you realize that you’re using your personal account.

You quickly make a new one and search for Ms. Hwang again. Now that you’re all set, the opener continues to be a major problem. You can’t just say hi, can you? You have to be smart about this. Do you want to be funny? Do you just text her that you saw her invite to shoot some content? What do you call her even?

After a couple of minutes, you finally decide on a simple text.

You stare at the screen for a while. You are nervous. Excited. But when Ms. Hwang doesn’t text back immediately, you lean back in your chair. What did you expect? The chance of her actually responding is very slim. She wouldn’t text you back within a couple of minutes.

You dry yourself off with a towel. It’s 11 pm now. Throughout the entirety of your workout, you kept thinking about Ms. Hwang. The chance to actually sleep with her. To record it. Show it to Yeji. It was wishful thinking, but still...

Taking your gym bag out of your locker, you start to get dressed. You usually jog home from the gym, since it only takes thirty minutes and it’s a great way to build up your stamina. But it’s already late and your mom offered to pick you up on her way home. She seems to always be at the company, since your dad died. Is it just because of the huge amount of work, or is it her way to cope with the loss of your father?

After stepping out of the gym, you lean against the outer wall, waiting for her to arrive. You haven’t been working out for a long time yet. You always liked gym class, but you never bothered with actually trying to improve your physique. But you haven’t gotten over your ex-girlfriend yet. As much as you hate to admit it, she might have been the one. Trying to get your mind off her, you started working out about three weeks ago.

After taking your phone out of your black sweatpants, you see a message from your mother.

Grabbed something to eat for the two of us. I will be there in 10.

You quickly skim through your class’s Discord. Someone mentioned something about a party this weekend. As you scroll through the messages, you see that it’s Eunha, who invited everyone. Seems like her mom is out of town over the weekend. As you take your earbuds out of your pocket, your phone vibrates.

You almost let it fall. She actually replied! With shaky fingers, you quickly open Instagram and there your messages.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Your shout bounces off the wall of the gym you were leaning on.

This is unbelievable. It’s your chance. Your chance to-

You pause, already halfway done with your response. No. You can’t message her back immediately. Maybe wait a couple of minutes. But then, your eyes catch the green circle next to her profile. Fuck. She knows you’re online too. Now you have to respond. Something cool. As if you weren’t waiting for her reply for hours.

Seems to be your lucky day. I live close by.

You read it a couple of times, before sending it. You know it sounds a little overconfident, but maybe it works. Ms. Hwang probably got hundreds of messages, so why not try and leave an impression?

Fantastic

Two questions

Are you fine with your body being filmed?

How big are you? You know what I mean

The wink emoji at the end makes a shiver run down your spine. You’re almost there. So close to finally having sex with a woman, who has been your “inspiration” more often than you can count.

I’m cool with that

Why don’t we make that a surprise?

You take a deep breath before you send it. She might take it the wrong way. But hopefully, this gets you through the door.

I do like surprises…

But I do need to know a general direction

Send a pic?

You rub your teeth over your lower lip as you think. You’ve never taken a picture like this one before. Because no one ever asked you to send you one. But Ms. Hwang just did! You’re just about to go back inside, when you see a pair of lights illuminate the parking lot. Your mom is here.

I’m in public right now

I’ll get you one once I’m home

I might need some inspiration to show you what I’ve got

Your wink emoji makes you shake your head. For someone else, this conversation might look borderline weird. But the tingle inside your stomach doesn’t subside, even when your mom’s car stops right in front of you.

“Hi, sweetie.”

"Hey, mom.”

You smile at her, before getting inside and fastening your seatbelt.

“How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. A lot of work, as always. How was school?”

“School is school.”

Your reply makes her chuckle as she gets back on the road.

“Did Ms. Park torture your class again?”

“You know how she is, mom.”

You sigh, getting comfortable in the warm car. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. But you’re too scared to check. What if Ms. Hwang actually sent you something?

“What did you get by the way?”

“Chicken.”

She points behind herself, eyes still focused on the dark road ahead. You look at the backseat behind her, a grin on your face.

“You're great, mom.”

You take two stairs at once, after you enter the house.

“Be quick, I’m hungry.”

“Just five minutes!”

You close your door.

Your gym bag joins your bag for school on the ground. Opening your phone, you immediately see that Ms. Hwang sent you a picture.

“This actually worked?”

You sit down in your chair again as you open your chat with her.

“Oh fuck.”

You can’t hide your pleasant surprise.

Ms. Hwang, sent you a hot selfie. Her white top is bunched up above her breasts, no bra in sight. She smiles at the camera, at you, as she winks.

You might not even need five minutes. Your sweatpants and boxers are gone within seconds. As you start to stroke yourself, you take in Ms. Hwang’s surroundings. You recognize her open kitchen in the background. You’ve been to her house before, together with one of your closer friends. Your eyes narrow as you spot someone standing in the kitchen. Her face is turned away from the camera, but you recognize her immediately. You see her in class everyday.

The thought of Ms. Hwang sending you a selfie of herself almost half naked, really makes you hard. You are so focused on her tits, you almost forget why she sent you the picture in the first place.

You have to force yourself to stop. Getting off the chair, you sit down on the edge of your bed, facing the mirror. You take a couple of pictures of yourself, while making sure your head isn’t in the frame.

After taking a sip of your cold water, you glance at the TV. You’re sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, while your mom is watching a drama. Her long elegant dress got replaced by a pair of shorts and a white tank top, while you were busy upstairs.

“You don’t want to watch this with me?”

“No thanks, mom. Not into romance stuff.”

You take a bite of your chicken, while you hear her laugh.

“Trust me. One day you’ll like it. You’re not old enough to appreciate this yet.”

“Sure mom.”

Your phone vibrates again. You were afraid that the picture was bad. Or worse, that Ms. Hwang didn’t like what she saw. You quickly check what she sent you.

Look how wet you made me

The picture she sent along with the text almost makes you drop your phone. It's a close up shot of her pussy. Two of her fingers spread her lips apart, revealing the lower part of her clit, while showing off how wet she is. Her glistening folds instantly make you hard. You can see the inner part of her walls. The pink flesh drenched in her arousal.

What are you supposed to say now? You can’t just ask, when she wants you to come over. You need to keep this conversation going. Maybe you haven’t convinced her fully yet.

You chug down the rest of your water, before focusing on what to text her next.

You’re dripping Tiffany

I want to know what you taste like

It feels unfamiliar to you to address her with her first name. You always call her Ms. Hwang. But it’d be weird to call her that now.

And I can’t wait to feel your tongue

I need you to eat my pussy so bad right now

“What are you up to, oppa?”

“Nothing important.”

You quickly turn off your phone, before you look up.

One of your classmates is looking down on you, while you sit in your seat.

“Did you catch what Ms. Kim just gave us for homework?”

“Eunha…”

You sigh, still very aware that she almost caught you. You’ve been texting with Ms. Hwang - sorry, Tiffany - for two days now. Eunha just interrupted you, while you were about to reply to one of her messages.

“Oh, please. I didn’t pay attention.”

“That’s not news to me.”

Before you can react, Eunha has already straddled your lap.

“What-?”

You instinctively take a hold of her thighs. You feel how full and smooth they are. And you realize your fingers are partially underneath her skirt.

"Please? I’m begging you.”

Eunha does her best to look cute. She always does. That’s her charm. And that’s also why she gets away with pretty much everything.

You hesitate for a moment. Eunha needs to learn it the hard way at some point. But you can’t resist her either. Those cute cheeks, her lips which are pouting at you, her dark eyes pleading you to tell her.

“We’re supposed to write a two page essay about the Roman gods.”

Ms. Kim is your history teacher. And currently she is focusing on ancient societies to show the evolution of human society and democracy.

“Is there any way…?”

“No, Eunha. I’m not gonna write it for you.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask.”

She pouts at you again. You’re still very aware that she is sitting in your lap. And that you’re holding her thighs. But most of the class is outside during this nice warm weather. Plus, Eunha is known to be almost a little too comfortable with skinship. No matter with whom.

“I was gonna ask, if you could… you know… read through it before Wednesday?”

At least she remembers that Ms. Kim likes to randomly collect some student’s homework.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, oppa!”

Eunha suddenly kisses your cheek and jumps off your lap. Only now do you realize how short her skirt actually is. You can almost see a hint of her ass. It’s probably not compliant with the school dress code, but that’s not unusual. All the kids at school have decently rich parents. They couldn’t care less about the school’s rules.

It’s embarrassing to say, but you can’t keep your eyes off Eunha’s thighs. Until you hear someone from behind you.

“Oppa.”

You turn around to see one of your closest friends standing behind your seat.

“Yes, Minju?”

The girl pouts at you and you could’ve sworn you see a glint of anger in her eyes. But they soften, once they focus back on you. Who was she looking at?

“Would you…Would you mind, if we write the essay together? You’re the best at history. Well, except for her.”

Minju nods towards the older girl, who is sitting in the front row.

“It’s also the only subject I’m good at.”

“You are not doing that bad.”

“Then where are my good grades?”

“I can help you. If you help me. Please?”

“Ok, Minju. What about…..Sunday?”

“Sunday sounds great.”

Minju gives you a bright smile.

You check your phone once she has walked away. After finishing your reply, you finally send it.

Looking up from your phone, you see Yeji enter the classroom. She and Minju seem to be talking about something funny. As always, your anger starts to build up, whenever you see her. If only she’d know. If only Yeji knew what you’re planning on doing on Saturday. How you talked to her mother. Yeji would probably kill you. But that’s exactly what you want. Yeji has been annoying you for far too long. And you will finish this war between the two of you. Once and for all.

At exactly that moment, Yeji turns in your direction. She rolls her eyes and gives you a weird grimace. Like she always does, when your eyes meet. You groan in annoyance. Soon…

You picked this time, because you know that Yeji and Minju are downtown for most of the day. Minju said something about going shopping and trying out a new restaurant. After hesitating for a moment, you press the doorbell. You hear it ring. You step from one foot on the other, while you wait for her. You’re nervous. You know her. You’ve known her for years. You’ve dreamed about-

The door opens. Tiffany stands in front of you.

You are able to witness the different emotions that wash through her as she looks at you. First, it’s more of a seductive smile, then surprise, confusion, realization and finally shock. Her mouth is opened as if she is about to scream.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“You were looking for someone to shoot content with.”

You try to stay relaxed as if this is completely normal. Tiffany could still send you away. You doubt she would tell your mother, but it'd be awkward between you and Tiffany nonetheless.

“H-How do you even-How do you even know, I have-?”

Her shocked face turns into a worried one as the volume of her voice rises.

“I found your Instagram by accident.”

Tiffany is about to answer, when you hear a car drive past behind you.

“Go inside, before anyone…”

She sighs and you slip past her.

Once Tiffany has closed the door behind you, she gives you an angry glare.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re way too young to even think about this! And you’re Yeji’s friend! Are you out of your mind?”

It seems like Tiffany has finally overcome her initial shock. You don’t bother to mention that you and Yeji are sworn enemies.

“I’m old enough Tif-”

Her stare makes you change your mind.

“Ms. Hwang. I’ve done this before. I’m not a virgin.”

She gives you a skeptical look.

“And this is also an opportunity for you.”

You add quickly. You thought about how to convince her on your way over, in case she would say no.

“An opportunity? For what? You’re Ms. Seo’s son for god's sake.”

“So what? My mother doesn’t have anything to do with this. And-”

“But I know her! I know you. I can’t sleep around with my neighbor's son!”

“Why not? I won’t tell anyone. And you said that you’d love to fuck me. You want me to show you-”

You reach for your phone in your pocket.

Tiffany shakes her head. Her cheeks are red in embarrassment. She can’t believe this is actually happening. How did Seohyun’s son find out about her? There is no way he is actually into her. He is the same age as her daughter.

“Even if you weren’t her son, you are still way too young. You’re barely half my age.”

“That's what I said earlier. This is an opportunity for you.”

“Opportunity? To do what? You're nuts!”

Tiffany storms off, into her living room. You follow after her. You know you're being a little clingy, but this kind of opportunity might never come again.

“The opportunity to shoot a different kind of content. You know, since I'm younger.”

Yeji's mother turns around and raises her eyebrow.

“Since you're younger? What do you think is good about that? All young boys think like you.”

Tiffany steps towards you again, her hands on her waist. You can tell she is still fuming.

“Do you think you have a great…”

Tiffany does a vague gesture towards your crotch.

“Or do you think you already have experience? Or that you have better stamina than older guys?”

“Yeah, but that’s not my point.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“I don’t even want to hear it. Would you please leave now?”

She gestures towards the front door.

“At least hear me out. You do want more subscribers and eventually earn more money, don’t you?”

Tiffany is already reaching for the door again, when she turns around.

“I’m listening.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Well…”

You hesitate for a second. This might come off the wrong way. But by the looks of it, it’s probably your last shot.

“Well, I’m younger than you. That’s true. But you’re also, like you said, twice my age.”

“So? What’s your point? Are you trying to make me feel old now too?”

Tiffany leaves you standing and heads towards her kitchen. You’re walking after her, slightly annoyed that she can’t stand still. While she takes a half opened bottle of wine out of the fridge, you look at her from behind. Her backside makes you lose focus for a moment. Her jeans and her slightly bent over figure makes you hard in excitement. You’re so close. Don’t mess this up.

Tiffany takes out a wine glass and starts pouring herself some whine.

“I’m trying to tell you, you’re a… Well, people my age would call you milf.”

You see her furrowing her brows.

“That doesn’t sound like something nice. And it seems to me like you shouldn’t be saying that to me.”

She looks at you again, while taking a sip from the red wine.

“Well, it means… Mom I like to fuck.”

You hear her choke on the whine she was just about to swallow.

“Excuse you?!”

“What? It’s true. The fact that I’m younger doesn’t mean I don’t find you sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

The disbelief in her voice goes well with her raised eyebrow.

“Yes, I do.”

You can feel that Tiffany isn’t as disgusted at the thought of sleeping with you as before. You can still turn this around.

“Do you know how often I thought about you while….”

You let the sentence linger in the air and Tiffany seems to catch on.

“Oh, please.”

She scoffs.

“You’re trying to impress me by telling me you jerked off to me once or twice?”

You shake your head.

“More than once or twice. Several times a day, since I’ve found your Instagram.”

“Well…”

You finally seem to have made her speechless.

“And I’m not the only one who thinks you’re hot. I’ve heard more than just a couple of boys talk about you.”

“Oh, really?”

Tiffany raises an eyebrow again, before drinking some wine again. She seems more curious than angry now.

“Yes. That’s why this is such a great opportunity for you. I’m the same age as the boys who want to sleep with you. If we include this theme, of you with a way younger guy, in some of your content, those boys might be more interested in watching your stuff.”

Tiffany has finished her drink by now.

“You mean, appeal to younger people because they can identify with you more?”

“Exactly. There are a couple of great themes or roleplay ideas, which would really draw them in.”

You can almost see how the wheels turn inside her head.

Tiffany sighs as she places the empty glass on the counter.

"Alright. Fine.”

You feel goosebumps form on your skin, when she finally agrees.

“But today is only a test. If you mess up, or this doesn’t work, like you said it would, we are done.”

You quickly nod your head. You can’t believe it. You actually convinced her to have sex with you. On camera. Yeji’s mother. Tiffany Hwang.

She pulls a black hairband off her wrist, which you only notice now. After silently tying her hair in a high ponytail, Tiffany sinks to her knees. Right in front of you. You almost forget to breathe.

“Consider this an audition.”

Her eyes wander from your face to your crotch.

You bite your lip as you feel Tiffany’s hands undo your belt and your jeans. They quickly land around your ankles as she slowly lets a finger trace the outlines of your clothed and hard cock.

“Now I’m actually curious, if you were telling the truth about this.”

Tiffany hooks her fingers underneath the waistband of your boxers and pulls them down.

“Not bad at all.”

She smiles as your cock appears right in front of her face.

Tiffany slowly wraps her hand around it and strokes your length once. From the tip to the base.

“I could definitely work with this.”

Tiffany slowly moves her head closer and gives your tip a kiss.

You almost let out a groan already. You can’t believe that she is actually kneeling in front of you. With her hand around your cock and her lips on your tip.

She opens her mouth a little wider and moves down. You feel her lips glide along the length of your cock. Tiffany almost reaches your base, before she retreats again. Her hand around your cock starts stroking the parts of your cock that just left her mouth. Once she finally reaches your tip again, Tiffany gives it another kiss. This one is sloppier. But when she looks up at you, she furrows her brows.

“Why aren’t you recording?”

You’re stunned. The feeling of her lips around your cock has made you unable to move. Tiffany rolls her eyes and motions towards the counter, where she put her phone earlier.

After picking it up, you enter the pin she told you and open the camera. You hit the record button as Tiffany resumes her blowjob. Making sure she is in the frame, you watch her through the phone. But it just doesn’t really compare to the real thing. Now that you got a taste of it, you can’t help yourself.

You have to hold in a deep breath, as you lower her phone a little. Now you can see her better. Tiffany keeps stroking the lower half of your cock, while her mouth works the upper part. The camera can’t catch it, but you feel how her tongue presses against the underside of your shaft. She slowly covers your whole cock in her spit as she starts to make lewd sounds. The vibrations from her mouth are being sent through your cock, into your body and up your spine. Your whole body can feel how Tiffany sucks you off.

When she lifts her head a little further, Tiffany lets your cock fall out of her mouth. Now that the camera can see your whole cock for the first time, you’re a little embarrassed. You are aware that other people will see this. For a moment, you think they could make fun of you, but Tiffany quickly destroys that thought.

“Wow. Your cock tastes so good.”

She smiles up into the camera, before giving your tip another kiss.

“I really like it.”

A wink into the camera and Tiffany resumes her blowjob. You realize too late that she has picked up the pace. You almost drop her phone, when you see her head bob up and down. Her lips glide over your shaft way faster now. Her hand moves quicker too. Tiffany is starting to take more of your cock into her mouth.

Now that her head is moving further forward, everytime she gets deeper onto your cock, you can see a hint of her ass again. The blue jeans she is wearing is hugging her cheeks tightly. You move her phone a little forward and capture more of her ass.

As Tiffany’s blowjob continues, you start to get more into being her cameraman. While your main focus is still not to cum too fast, you’re now trying out some new camera angles. When Tiffany moves back a little, and only your tip remains inside her mouth, you move the phone on the same height as her face to her left. You’re now filming her side profile. Tiffany seems to know what to do. She looks up at you, her eyes now sparkling with amusement and lust. She slowly moves her lips along your cock once more, making sure the camera captures the exact way her mouth slowly takes in your length. After a couple back and forths, you reposition her phone again. It’s now looking from your perspective down at her, just like at the beginning.

You focus more on not just suddenly blowing your load inside her mouth. Because you’re now feeling a familiar pull inside your stomach. The way her mouth and hand work your shaft makes you experience something new. Your ex was never this good. You can tell that Tiffany has done this more than just once.

After leaning back again, Tiffany smiles into the camera. She stops stroking you and places a finger two or three inches above your base.

“I just got up to here. Do you think I can manage to go all the way?”

You hesitate for a second, before slowly making the camera nod.

Tiffany laughs.

“Let’s see if I can take it all.”

With another seductive smile on her face, Tiffany takes you into her mouth once more. You brace yourself for what’s to come next. The feeling of her lips gliding down your shaft once more makes you shiver in excitement. You still can’t believe she is actually doing this to you.

When Tiffany reaches her finger, she looks at the camera again. A wink and she removes her finger. You have to stop yourself from cursing as you feel her take more than before. Your tip grazes something deep inside her mouth and Tiffany stops for a second. She still has around one inch to go. You feel how she opens her mouth a little wider. How your tip slowly moves down. You are suddenly aware that you’re now inside her throat. Tiffany pushes her head further onto your cock and you hear her cough. Your whole cock has finally disappeared inside her mouth and throat.

You can feel how the muscles of her throat tighten around you. And you can also feel your incoming orgasm. You try to count in your head, not wanting to cum already. But Tiffany deepthroating your cock, doesn’t help at all. You make it to 12, when you feel yourself throbbing inside of her. She must have felt it too, because she looks up at you, her eyes have naturally become bigger.

You signal her in whatever way that you’re about to finish. But Tiffany only hums in satisfaction, which brings you so much closer to your orgasm. She moans, when you finally do cum. You unload deep inside Tiffany’s throat. Holding onto the phone, you do your best to keep the camera focused on her face.

Tiffany closes her eyes in bliss, feeling how your warm cum paints her throat. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Follow me.”

Tiffany opens the door to the room next to her bedroom. Yeji’s room is on your left. You glance inside, the door slightly opened. You see her bed, a stuffed toy on it, and a desk. In that moment, Tiffany takes your hand and the two of you walk into the room she just unlocked. The key is still in the keyhole as you walk past. This is probably Tiffany’s way to make sure that Yeji doesn’t know what her mother is doing for a living.

The big window in front of you leads towards the garden. You can see the corner of the pool as you step a little closer. A bed is standing on your right. Next to it a nightstand. One would think it’s just a normal bedroom. But when you turn to your left, you see two tripods with cameras on them. Two cupboards stand against the wall behind those. You guess that’s where Tiffany keeps all her stuff. Costumes, sexy outfits and toys.

“Can you help me set everything up?”

“Sure.”

Reality suddenly seems to crash down on you as you pick up one of the tripods. Tiffany just gave you head. You came in her mouth barely ten minutes ago. And now you’re going to have sex with her on camera. You take a deep breath and set up the tripod near the bed, just like Tiffany told you. It’s not that you’re scared or anything. You’re just really nervous. Tiffany is on a whole different level, compared to your ex. And filming it is different too. You’ve never really done that before.

Once you’re done setting up the cameras, Tiffany walks over to one of the cupboards. She opens it and you can see inside. As you expected, it’s full with all kinds of different outfits. Tiffany takes the one on the far left, but your eyes linger on the one on the right. Is that… a nurse uniform?

“Give me five minutes.”

You nod as Tiffany closes the doors again. You can’t help but look after her as she leaves the room, imagining her in that uniform. You’re now just as hard again as you were when Tiffany took your cock down her throat.

When she closes the door behind herself, you realize that you didn’t even catch a glimpse of the outfit she is about to put on. It was something red. Just like the uniform. You stand where she left you for a moment, before you quickly walk over to the cupboard.

You open the doors again and check out the outfit to your right. A red skirt and a red top, decorated with white lace along the neckline. A matching white apron with a cross on it and a red nurse’s cap. You want to see Tiffany wear this so badly right now. You rub your hand over your clothed crotch as you scan the rest of the cupboard. A black leather outfit, a very low cut green top, which would almost expose her whole cleavage, except for her nipples, a long white dress that almost looks too elegant for this room.

Something else suddenly catches your attention. You squat down and reach for one of the two drawers on the bottom of the cupboard. Biting your lower lip, you feast your eyes on row after row on Tiffany Hwang’s bra collection. There are probably around thirty of them. All differently colored and with different decorations. One has a bow on it at the front. Another one is made out of white lace with butterfly patterns. A third one is a red strapless one. Your hand lingers above a fourth one. It’s blue and it’s not shaped like the other ones. It’s more like a couple of ribbons sewed together, which would only cover Tiffany’s nipples. The rest of her tits would be completely visible.

You quickly open the other one. It’s full with her panties. All folded and lined up neatly. Some of them seem to have a matching bra in the other drawer, while others seem to be a stand alone item. You catch a glimpse of one that has writing on the front. You slightly push the one on top of it out of the way.

“Good girl”

Taking a deep breath, you close both drawers again, but not without letting your eyes scan through their contents one last time. You wonder for how long Tiffany must be doing this already. Because these are a lot, even for a woman. You remember when you were young and you rummaged through your moms wardrobe, searching for the TV remote she hid, while she was out of the house, because she didn’t want you to watch TV the whole day. You came across her underwear drawer, but Tiffany’s is on another level. You wonder if she has even more inside her normal bedroom. Or inside the other cupboard?

A second later, you stand in front of it. But just when you’re about to open its doors, you hear footsteps approaching. You quickly look around. You don’t want to be caught going through her underwear. Two giant steps later, you reach the bed and jump onto the mattress. Just in time. Right when you lean your head against the wall behind you, Tiffany opens the door. You almost forget what you just saw. Hell, you almost forget to breathe.

Tiffany as a whole is too much to handle. You feel like your jaw is about to drop, so you quickly look down, not wanting her to think that you’re some naive little boy. Your eyes land on her feet. They’re covered in red stockings, which are barely see through. But you do catch a hint of her white painted nails. Your eyes follow along Tiffany’s legs as you admire how the fabric tightly wraps around her skin. The thicker fabric turns into lace as you reach her thighs. Red roses greet you as you near the end of her stockings. A strap serves as the next path for your eyes to travel on. Its connection with the hem of Tiffany’s stockings is decorated with a small red bow.

Eventually, you reach Tiffany’s waist. It’s covered by her red garter belt, which is, just like her panties and bra, made out of red lace. Her high-waisted panties give you a side view of one of her butt cheeks, before your focus lands on her clothed pussy. You still can’t believe how sexy she is, you can’t get enough of her. Your eyes travel even further. Past her belly button and her garter belt and along her flat stomach.

Tiffany’s chest is covered by a red lace bra with the same pattern as the top of her stockings. Your gaze lingers right between both her breasts, before you travel along one of her bra straps. You reach her collarbone, which is decorated by a golden necklace, a heart in the middle. Her shoulders are covered in red silk. The night robe she is wearing flows down her back and would’ve hidden her round cheek, if she didn’t rest her hand on her hip. A flirtatious smile plays around her freshly painted red lips.

“You’ve been staring for ages.”

“S-Sorry.”

Well, you certainly do look like a naive little boy right now.

“I don't mind at all.”

Tiffany laughs, before finally stepping fully inside the room.

“So, have you decided yet?”

“Huh?”

You zoned out for a second, too distracted by Tiffany turning around and closing the door.

Now she turns back to you.

“Have you thought about a suitable concept for our video? This was your idea after all.”

You clear your throat, trying to buy yourself some time. Since you decided to message Tiffany, dozens of ideas have piled up inside your mind. One more dirty and fucked up then the next.

“I do have a couple of ideas, actually.”

Tiffany smiles at you as she slowly walks towards the bed.

“Let’s just decide on one for now, shall we?”

She leans down and places her hands on the mattress, right next to your leg. You don’t stand a chance. A second later, you brazenly stare at her voluptuous cleavage.

“We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves yet.”

You tear your eyes off her body once more and focus back on her face. A knowing grin plays around her lips.

“Sure.”

You finally decide on one idea you had in mind.

Tiffany doesn’t look very convinced at first, but as you continue your explanation, her eyes grow a little softer.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You get off the bed, while Tiffany looks around.

“Why don’t you carry the tripod downstairs and I will set up everything else in the kitchen?”

“Sounds good.”

You’re excited. Receiving a blowjob from Yeji’s mom was already an incredible moment. But now, you're about to actually sleep with her. Your finger shakes as you press the record button on the camera, secured on the tripod, which is directed at the open kitchen. You walk into the hallway, as you hear Tiffany starting the coffee machine. You wait for it to finish, before you silently count to ten, just like the two of you planned. You take your phone out of your pocket and hit the record button on it as well.

When you walk into the kitchen, you see Tiffany leaning against the counter behind her. She is facing the door you’re now standing in as she sips on her freshly made coffee. She acts sleepy, covering her mouth, pretending to yawn into her hand.

“Oh, good morning Ms. Hwang. Did you sleep well last night?”

Your voice makes her look up at you. You make sure your phone captures her face and some of her cleavage. The two of you outlined the general direction of the conversation earlier, but most of it is gonna be improvisation.

“Good morning! I slept pretty well and you?”

Tiffany looks up from her cup and smiles at you.

“I got.. Some sleep. We stayed up pretty late haha. Sorry for all the noise.”

Your words make her shake her head.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn't hear a thing. Would you like a cup? This coffee maker makes a mean cup.”

She gestures towards the machine and of course you accept.

“I would appreciate it. Thank you”

“So why are you up this early? I’d assume you try to get some more sleep after last night.”

“I usually wake up early to get some exercise in. No matter how little sleep I get.”

Tiffany hands you your cup and smiles sympathetically.

“Oh you poor thing. It's okay to take some days off, you know?”

“Yeah but if I get off my routine I’ll start to get lazy and all my hard work would go to waste.”

She nods in understanding, while you try the coffee.

“And who are you working out so hard for? Who’s my poor baby losing sleep over? A girlfriend perhaps?”

It feels weird to you that Tiffany calls you baby. Especially since she isn’t your girlfriend. But you go along with it.

“No, no girlfriend unfortunately. It’s just for myself to stay in shape. It’s a good way to keep my self disciplined on a routine”

“Well if I could offer my honest opinion..”

A sly, almost hungry smile plays around her lips.

“I think your hard work is paying off quite well.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that”

“You know.. because of my daughter’s sleepover. I had to break my own little routine. It’s going to be hard to get back to it without some help.”

Tiffany puts her cup down and steps closer. She keeps eye contact with you.

“Care to lend a hand?”

She places her hand on your shoulder as she says those words. The camera on the tripod catches her movements, while your phone is focused on her face.

“Sorry about that, but if you want.. I could help you out. I have some time.”

A victorious smile plays around the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Tiffany bites her lips seductively as she says those words. Her hand slowly moves down your shoulder, past your biceps and along your lower arm, until it reaches your own hand. She takes your coffee and places the mug on the counter next to you.

“Well then handsome…”

She locks her fingers around yours.

“Care to follow me?”

She is face to face with you as she whispers those words. You lift the camera a little, so you can see her properly.

“Lead the way ma’am.”

You follow after her as Tiffany leads you upstairs.

The two of you walk into the room you were in earlier. Tiffany slings her arms around your neck and turns you around her, so your back is facing the other camera and the bed. Her lips capture yours, which you try to film with your phone. But her lips prove to be too distracting. You close your eyes as you start to lose yourself in the kiss. The last kiss you had was some time ago, with-

Tiffany puts her weight forward, against you, which makes you walk backwards. When your knees hit the edge of the bed, Tiffany finally lets go of your lips. The faint hint of strawberries leaves your lips as you already hope for a second kiss.

She places a finger on your chest, looking up at you with a seductive smile.

“My routine includes working out too.”

Tiffany doesn’t have to use a lot of force to push you onto the bed. A moment after you hit the soft mattress, she is already straddling you. Your hand finds its way to one of her lace covered thighs, while the other holds your phone, trying to capture as much of her as possible. She kisses your cheek once, before pecking you on the lips. Once more the taste of strawberries lingers on your lips as Tiffany moves her mouth closer to your ear.

"Although I’m usually the one who gets worked out.”

She playfully gives your earlobe a little bite, before she moves down your neck. Kiss after kiss, lick after lick, Tiffany travels towards the hem of your shirt. Your free hand reaches behind her back, trying to undo her bra, but Tiffany slowly moves it away while she shakes her head.

“Not so impatient, baby.”

Her smile sends warmth through your system as she leans down and places that smile directly onto your lips. When she moves back, you feel her breath against your lips.

“Just let me take care of you for now.”

Once more, Tiffany begins her journey along your neck. When she reaches your shirt, you feel her hands sneak underneath it from further down, while she kisses your clothed chest. You feel them exploring your upper body as Tiffany keeps peppering you with kisses. She slowly makes her way towards your crotch, while the rest of her body shuffles backwards, until she is face to face with your clothed cock.

“Let's see what you have for me.”

Another smile and Tiffany starts to take off your pants. You make sure your phone captures her deep cleavage as she leans over your lower body.

“Wow.”

Tiffany looks up with an impressed look on her face as she pulls down your pants, revealing your cock.

“I didn’t expect someone my daughter’s age to have such a nice dick.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hwang.”

You make sure that you sound a little embarrassed as she gives your cock a long, slow lick.

“Do you know how much fun we could’ve had last night?”

A second lick follows the first as Tiffany slowly strokes the lower half of your cock.

“I was so horny, thinking about all the young men in my house.”

She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, before she looks back at your face.

“I wouldn’t have minded at all, if you had come in during the night.”

You hold your breath as Tiffany suddenly bobs her head a couple of times on your cock. Her lips glide up and down your length with a speed you weren’t prepared for. But it ended as quickly as it started. Biting back a disappointed groan, you see Tiffany’s eyes sparkle in amusement as if she was silently saying,

“Girls your age don’t play with your cock like this.”

You try to come up with a witty reply, which isn’t as easy as it sounds, when you have someone lying between your legs.

“I will make sure to check up on you during the next sleepover.”

Tiffany smiles as you feel her free hand dive underneath your shirt once more.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Your head finally sinks back into the sheets, while you keep your phone locked on Tiffany. You’re starting to get the hang of it, while she keeps sucking your cock. Even closing your eyes momentarily, you feel her working your shaft with a level of skill, which you aren’t used to. Like before, her technique is too good for you to handle long term. How Tiffany’s lips wrap around your tip. How they slowly glide along your length. How she sucks on your dick, while keeping an airtight seal around it. How one hand gently cups your balls, while the other keeps drawing circles on your chest. How her tongue swirls around your tip, whenever she lifts her head. How it seems to wiggle around your cock like a snake, when Tiffany almost reaches your base.

A particularly tight grip of her lips around your cock makes you thrust upwards a little. If you didn’t have yourself under control at that moment, that would’ve been it. You would’ve blown your load into her mouth without warning. But you do your best to keep your cool. You still have something to prove. Trying to think of something else, you close your eyes again. Maybe you should surprise her? Should you end this pleasurable torture and leave her heaven like mouth? But what would you do then? How would Tiffany react?

You hesitate. You’re afraid she might back off. Might call off this whole thing.

“Improvisation and surprise. That’s what draws a viewer in. Excitement.”

Your late father’s words suddenly echo through your head as you reach the verge of your orgasm. You don’t know how your mind got there. But as always, your father is right.

You reach forward and push Tiffany’s hair a little to the side, cupping her cheek. She leans into your palm a little, humming in acknowledgement. You brace yourself. Gone is your urge to shoot your load down Tiffany’s throat. For some reason, she has triggered your competitive spirit with the way she is sucking you off.

Tiffany lifts her head once more, her lips gliding across your cock. When she reaches your tip, you feel that tongue again. How it swirls around your tip. How she-

You stop yourself. You count to three inside your head. All or nothing.

A frown appears on Tiffany’s forehead as she feels you slowly pulling her off your cock. Her mouth is already empty when she looks towards you. You quickly wrap your legs around her torso. You feel her struggle for a second on instinct. But a second later, you already roll you both over. You land on top of Tiffany, who has a surprised look on her face. She didn’t expect you to be able to do this.

A grin appears on your lips as you steal a kiss from her.

“Since I saw you downstairs, I wanted to know what your pussy tastes like.”

You lean down and suck on Tiffany’s neck. A moan leaves her lips and you could swear she is smiling now.

“Do you always dress this sexy, when your daughter has friends over?”

Tiffany gasps. Not intentionally. She is very surprised by your change of attitude. She was able to tell that you weren’t as confident and experienced as the other men she's been with. She had been wondering if she made the right call. It was still weird to her to be doing this with a boy. With her neighbor’s son, to be exact. She felt how close you were to already cuming down her throat mere seconds ago.

But now, you’re on top of her. Tiffany feels how your lips slightly suck on her skin. How you give her neck small bites. Your free hand has moved to take a handful of her right breast, now squeezing it through her bra.

For a second, she wonders if this is all an act. An act to make the video as good as possible. But then again…

You couldn’t just do this without some sort of proper confidence.

Tiffany glances at your phone, making sure that you’re still doing that part of your job properly, before she completely lets you take over. She feels your control over her as your weight pins her to the mattress underneath her.

You quickly reach under her back and undo her bra with one hand. You practiced this long enough, after the first time with your ex. It took you way too long to take her bra off. Even with two hands. But your work pays off now. Tiffany lets out a sigh as she bites her lip, feeling your hand exposing her chest. Your lips move from her neck to her collarbone, while your free hand plays with her tits.

“Yes, baby.”

The woman underneath you moans into your ear. You move on from her neck soon enough, leaving a trail of kisses on your way to her chest. Once you reach her tits, your hand moves further down too. It glides over Tiffany’s tight tummy as you lick her breasts. You occasionally take a slightly brown nipple into your mouth and suck on it. Your actions make Tiffany arch her back into the air, further towards your lips and your tongue.

Meanwhile, your hand has reached her garter belt. You slip past it, feeling her belly button underneath your palm. As your fingertips touch the hem of her panties, you playfully bite into one of her nipples. Not hard. But the unexpected stimulation makes Tiffany moan out loud.

“Holy fuck!”

You are not as inexperienced as she thought you were. Your lips now follow your hand’s path, leaving Tiffany desperate for another bite.

Just as your fingertips graze her pussy lips underneath the red lace, you pull them away. You hear her breath hitch as you place your hand on her thigh. The milky white flesh feels soft, but firm at the same time. The red strap that connects her stockings to her belt is being pressed into your palm as Tiffany flexes her thighs. She feels your mouth coming closer. You record the place where your lips just were as you finally reach her panties. You lift your head, taking a moment to do a close up shot of her lace covered core. Glancing at her face, you see Tiffany’s red cheeks. Her aroused and slightly curious face makes you smile on the inside. You’re proud of yourself for making her crumble underneath your touches.

Moving your phone a little out of the way again, you lean forward. You plant a kiss on her panties, quickly inhaling her scent.

“You’re way too good at this.”

You wonder if that’s Tiffany who said that, or the character she is playing right now. Another kiss makes her hips buck in your direction.

“Don’t tease me.”

She sighs, giving you a desperate look, which you make sure to capture with your phone.

“Remember, you’re partially responsible for messing up my routine.”

You kiss her thigh instead, which makes her shake her head.

“No, please. You promised to make it up to me.”

Her desperate tone makes you give in. Your ex told you more than once how important foreplay is, so you always took it quite serious. But it seems like Tiffany has already had enough.

Because you can’t just take off her panties, you pull them to the side. A mouthwatering sight reveals itself to you as her slightly brown lips glisten with arousal. You quickly do another close up shot, but your excitement makes you cut it short. Soon, your lips kiss a circle around her lips as you already have a slight hint of her taste on them.

“You make me so wet.”

Another sigh from Tiffany as she reaches for a fistful of your hair. You feel her grab the phone, so you hand it over to her. You can’t see it, but you can almost feel how she films you, while you start to swipe your tongue over her folds. You do the same motion over and over again. Swiping your tongue from the bottom to the top. Whenever you come too close to her clit, Tiffany clamps her thighs together, letting a moan escape her lips. The only problem is, that your head is in between them. You use both your hands to take a hold of her thighs, not wanting to get crushed, as Tiffany moans and whines. You can’t believe that Yeji’s mother is making these sounds because of you. You never thought you would see her in only underwear, or naked ,or, specifically, her bare pussy.

You’re still trying to pinpoint what exactly Tiffany tastes like. Does her pussy taste like strawberries too? Just like her lips? Not really. It tastes a little different. You dive deeper, trying to get to the bottom of this. Your tongue now roams inside her velvet tunnel, making Tiffany’s head fall back. Her hand in your hair starts to make your scalp burn as she keeps tugging at it harder and harder. She keeps pressing your face right into her pussy as you lick and eat her out with all your might.

The sweet, but slightly salty taste of her juices invade your mouth, while you make Tiffany moan and gasp. Her state of mind switches constantly from surprise, to pure lust, to confusion, to arousal and back to surprise. She didn’t expect this at all from you.

Yes, it’s not the best oral sex she’s ever gotten. And your technique is a little sloppy. But Tiffany didn’t even expect you to have a technique. She thought you were too young. Too inexperienced to properly pleasure a woman like her. But you’re proving her wrong right now. The way your tongue glides along the insides of her pussy. The way it occasionally changes its path and gives her clit a flick. The way you bury your face deep into her core. Tiffany is pleasantly surprised at your visible love for her pussy. More often than not was she with guys, who never even bothered eating her out. And if they did, she felt like they were seeing it as a chore. But you seem to enjoy having your tongue buried deep inside her snatch.

Your effort and your pure intention to just make her feel good makes Tiffany mewl and shake. Her thighs close around your head again and again. Her hand pulls you further into her core.

She knows that you’re not quite there yet. Your work is enough to make her fall apart though. To moan your name and breathlessly beg for more. Tiffany wonders, with only a little bit of teaching, you could probably make her cum once or twice on a regular basis. The thought alone makes her pussy even wetter. But it also makes her long for you even more. She suddenly feels the great urge to properly feel you inside of her. She needs you to finally fill her with your cock.

“Need your cock, baby.”

Tiffany whines, her hand in your hair, gently pushing you off her cunt.

“Give it to me.”

She hands you your phone and you make sure her whole body is in focus once more. You kneel in front of her as you stroke your shaft, which is still wet from her earlier blowjob. You can’t help but feel excitement rush through your veins. Up until now, everything was perfect. You still can’t believe your luck. Two blowjobs and the opportunity to eat out Tiffany Hwang. Your attempt to make Yeji’s life hell has already proven to be more pleasurable than you could’ve ever imagined.

And now, you place your cock on top of her labia. Her juices glisten on her skin and you start to rub your cock against her lips.

“Oh, gosh. No teasing!”

Tiffany’s needy voice doesn’t stop you from building your own anticipation as high as possible. This is the moment you’ve dreamed of for years. You still remember the first time you touched yourself to Yeji’s mom. It was summer and you were invited to some neighbor’s garden party. Tiffany showed up in a very tight dress that showed off her ass and a very low cut neckline. Since that day, you imagined her so often while you-

Tiffany interrupts your thoughts by slinging her legs around your waist. The red fabric rubs against your skin as she takes your hand into hers, your cock now freely resting on top of her cleanly shaven cunt.

“Stop playing with me already, baby. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your world starts to spin as Tiffany pulls the same move that you pulled on her earlier. Once more, you’re lying on your back, while Tiffany sits on your lap. Her pussy still rubbing against your cock.

“You’ve got to learn this lesson, baby. “

Tiffany reaches down to stroke your shaft. Her face is marked with pleasure as her dominating stare seems to burn your soul.

“I’m not a patient woman. If I say I need cock, then I do mean I need cock.”

With those words, Tiffany lifts herself off your lap and positions herself right above your tip. Her labia grazes it once more and you feel her fingers hold your cock in place. You make sure your phone catches your cock penetrating her pussy. You almost let it slip out of your hand. It has been a while since you had sex with your ex. But even if you would have cum during the blowjob earlier, you would be just as close to your orgasm as you are now. Her velvet walls squeeze your tip as Tiffany lowers herself onto your cock.

“Oh my gosh!”

You hope the set up camera captures her face, because the only body parts you are able to move are your eyes. They switch between the sight of her pussy engulfing your cock, to watching how a high pitched moan leaves her mouth as she bites her lips, and back to your shaft disappearing inside her cunt.

“You’re so big inside me. I love your cock.”

Tiffany gasps as she slides down your shaft. The more she takes, the more strength the both of you need to keep it together. One of her hands has found itself entangled in her brown hair, messing it up as she tugs and pulls on it, trying to get accustomed to you being inside of her. Her other hand is pressed flat on your chest, giving her enough stability to keep sitting upright. Your own free hand can’t hold itself back anymore. You reach upwards to squeeze one of her breasts, which makes Tiffany’s head roll back.

Under heavy moans, she slowly begins to ride you. It is a fantastic show she is able to pull off. How her hips meet yours. How her waist moves when she rolls her hips a little. How her tits slightly bounce. How her red lips produce moan after moan.

And the feeling. You can’t really describe it. Your time with your ex now seems like a smudged water painting, while Tiffany’s ride makes you feel like looking at an 8k picture. Her slick cunt coats your cock with her juices. Her nails slightly dig into your chest. The stimuli that flood your brain seem to overload your mind.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time you have to curse under your breath. Tiffany just lifted her legs a little, placing her instep on your thighs. You feel the red fabric rub against your skin. Most of her weight is now being supported by her knees on the mattress and her hand on your chest. Tiffany leans over, showing off her tight tummy to the camera, while her hair falls into her face.

You raise your upper body and capture one of her nipples with your mouth.

“Gosh, yes!”

By now, both her hands have found their place on your chest. Tiffany keeps her slightly bent over position as she keeps bouncing on your cock. Her smooth walls make your cock as hard as it has never been before. You eagerly suck on her tits as you aim your phone at her pussy. The sounds of her cheeks clapping against your lap fills the room, accompanied by her moans and an occasional groan from you. Your hand, which was fondling her tits, is now right above her pussy. Your thumb flicks against her clit. The result is louder moaning. An increase of pace in her riding. And visibly more scratch marks than before.

You actually manage to drive Tiffany towards her orgasm. Which quickly proves to be a bad thing for you. Her cunt squeezes you harder with every flick of your thumb against her clit. She now slams herself down all the way to your base, making her pussy take every last inch of you. Now you’re close too.

“Damn, you have such a nice pussy.”

You manage to say through your teeth, trying to hold in the inevitable. Tiffany pulls off a satisfied smile. But her focus is certainly needed elsewhere. She can’t believe you’re actually able to hold out this long. For a second, she thought you were gonna cum after only a minute, when she saw your reaction to your cock disappearing inside of her. Now she is on the verge of her own orgasm. She can feel you twitch inside of her. Your face tells her that the two of you either cum together, or no one cums. Tiffany decides on the latter. The video isn’t finished yet. If you want to make more appearances in the future, she will need to test you a little more. So far, your cock definitely qualifies. But what about your fucking? She has been the only one working hard up until now.

Tiffany slows down drastically. It unintentionally makes you thrust upwards once or twice, before you have yourself under control. Tiffany leans further down, her mouth now next to your ear.

“Time to work me out properly.”

You turn your head slightly, pulling Tiffany into another kiss. Your lips stay locked for a while as her hips slowly move in circles around your dick.

“Get on all fours.”

Tiffany was about to suggest the next position, but you beat her to it. A satisfied smile plays around her lips as she slowly gets off you.

“That’s right, baby. Make me take your cock like a slut.”

Her words trigger something primal in you. Maybe that was her intention anyway.

As soon as Tiffany is in position, you kneel behind her. Your phone captures how you slap both her ass cheeks once, before squeezing them softly.

A moan echoes through the room as Tiffany feels her cheeks burn up after another spank. She directly faces the camera, standing on the tripod, right at the edge of the bed. She could touch it, if she stretched out her arm. She bites her lip as she feels you aligning your cock with her pussy. You rub your tip against her labia again, teasing her a little.

“You’re such a bad boy.”

Tiffany sighs, feeling how you barely graze her pussy. She secretly loves how you tease her. You turn her into a begging slut in front of the camera.

“Oh yes! Right there!”

Tiffany lets out a loud moan, when you finally do push inside her again. Your hand automatically glides over her slightly arched back. You marvel at how smooth her skin feels, while her walls pull you further into her. You take a hold of her red lace garterbelt, slightly twisting the fabric to use it as a makeshift rein. You pull her onto your cock, while thrusting forward.

“Oh lord!”

Tiffany lets out a surprised yelp, surprised by you suddenly bottoming out inside of her. You quickly settle in a rhythm that works for you and start to fuck Tiffany from behind. Moans spill from her lips, her fists open and close around her sheets, her feet shuffle around as you use her pussy. Her insides feel just as good as when she rode you a moment ago. But now that you had a taste of her warm depth, you start to become greedy. You want to go as deep into her body as you can. You want to feel how her body completely swallows your cock. How her labia stretches around your shaft.

You put some pressure with your hand on her back. It makes Tiffany arch her back further, her upper body getting closer to the mattress. Her body’s center of gravity moves forward, which lifts her feet off the mattress. Once more, Tiffany’s clothed insteps touch your body. They rest on your hips, which makes her ass look even rounder. You can feel yourself now being able to just push that little bit deeper into her. It makes you increase your pace and you keep pushing her further down.

Finally, Tiffany’s head rests on the mattress. She still tries to keep eye contact with the camera. She does her best fuck-me face. Biting her lower lip, frowning, her eyes only half open. But she can’t keep it up for long. Your thrusts into her cunt makes her feet, which are pressed against your hips, hit her ass. With every thrust, her heels dig into her cheeks.

“Gosh, baby! You’re so deep! I-”

Tiffany’s sentence is interrupted by another loud moan, when you reach down to grab one of her arms. You put it on her back and make her close her hand around her garterbelt. You do the same with the second one. Now, Tiffany’s face is buried in the sheets, her muffled moans are only barely audible over your hips smacking against her ass. You know that her viewers would love to see her pleasure wrecked face though. At least you would.

You reach out to grab a fistful of her hair and make it into a makeshift ponytail. You lift her head by pulling at it.

“Oh fuck!”

Tiffany greets you with a loud cry as she feels you fucking her as deep as you possibly can.

“That’s it, baby!”

You feel her cunt tightening around you, whenever you pull on her hair a little. Her upper body is completely in the air, only supported by your grip on her hair and her own hands on her garterbelt. Her back still shows off a beautiful arch though and you can see a small trail of sweat run down towards her ass.

“Fuck me harder!”

Tiffany whines loudly as you keep using your control over her entire body to pleasure yourself. She has given up trying to look sexy for the camera for a while now. Her mouth is now just hanging open, her tongue slightly visible as she takes your pounding from behind.

“Fucking use my pussy!”

You feel it tighten at her own words. You’re surprised how much she is enjoying it. You really hope you’re proving to her that this was a great idea.

“Make me your bitch! Yes!”

Tiffany cries out as you bottom out in her cunt again and again. A strand of her hair has escaped your fingers and is now swinging to your rhythm on the right side of her face.

“Fill me with this young cock!”

Her moans get louder and louder. But unfortunately, you are starting to reach your breaking point once more. There isn’t much left in you. You have to admit that your muscles are starting to grow tired. Your ability to hold back your orgasm becomes weaker. Letting a shaky breath escape your lips, you let go of Tiffany’s hair. She falls face first into the mattress, accompanied by a surprised yelp.

“You’re way too tight, Ms Hwang. I’m gonna cum soon.”

Before she can react properly, you turn her over. Tiffany manages to take her hands off the garterbelt, before she lies on her back. Her messed up hair hides parts of her face as she looks up at you with anticipation. Before you started recording, the two of you decided on how to end your sex scene. As much as you would’ve liked to cum in her mouth again, or maybe even inside her pussy, her suggestion wasn’t that bad either.

Now that she is lying in a missionary position in front of you, you grab the red lace around her waist once more. Your phone is focused on her whole body yet again, as you begin your final sprint towards the end. Her stocking covered legs wrap around your hips, keeping you in place. She doesn’t even have to do that. Nothing in this world could stop you from fucking her right now. You watch how your entire cock penetrates her pretty lips again and again. Her smooth skin around her cunt glistens with sweat and her own juices. Pulling Tiffany towards you, using the garterbelt, has you penetrate her as deep as possible yet again.

You feel your cock starting to throb. And judging by the increasing volume of her moans, so does she.

“Yeah! Cum on me, baby!”

“Fuck.”

You grunt in response, unable to hold yourself back as you fuck her as hard and deep as possible.

“Paint me! Make me your bitch!”

You know you won’t last a moment longer. You feel a familiar pull and you quickly try to pull out of Tiffany’s warm cunt. Almost too late. A second later, you cum on her pussy.

“Oh yes, baby. Claim my pussy.”

A groan leaves your mouth. Stars dance around in front of your eyes. Your knees buckle. You do your best, to keep your eyes open. You want to see what you did to Tiffany.

Her pussy is covered in your cum, her slightly brown lips sticky with semen. A small trail runs down her skin, heading towards her ass and the sheets.

The both of you are trying to catch your breath, once you finally finish. You keep recording her, showing how Tiffany’s tits and her stomach move up and down, before you do a close up shot of her cum covered cunt.

“Oh my gosh.”

You hear her sigh, a satisfied smile on her face. You watch and record how Tiffany reaches down and starts to play with your cum on her pussy. She slowly rubs her clit and occasionally lets a finger disappear inside her cunt.

“You can turn it off now.”

You look at her and stop the recording. Staying silent, you wait for her verdict, although it seemed like she was satisfied with your performance.

“Not bad for a boy. I could see us doing this again.”

You can’t hide your wide smile, excitement washing through your body.

“But if you lied to me and this kind of theme doesn’t help me at all…”

“It will.”

You sound surprisingly confident. But then again, who wouldn’t be, after experiencing possibly the best sex in your life.

Tiffany nods and starts to get off the bed. You do the same, but you can’t help but glance at her, while the two of you get dressed.

“Let's do the ending scene.”

Tiffany has slipped her panties back to their original place, put on her bra and thrown her silk robe over her shoulders.

The two of you now stand in front of the door, just like you planned earlier. You make sure that Tiffany is in focus, before hitting the record button once more. She opens the door a little, but then looks at the camera.

“I hope my daughter has another sleepover soon. I would hate it, if I would have to wait too long for you to come back.”

“Don’t worry, Ms Hwang. I’m sure she will do one again on her birthday.”

“Oh! You’re right.”

An excited smile plays around Tiffany’s lips.

Then, she steps closer, her face almost touching yours. Her eyes become seductive once more.

“I won’t be able to wait till morning though, if I know you’re sleeping in the next room.”

She takes your free hand and guides it towards her core. Your fingers dive underneath her panties. You make sure that the camera captures that.

“I’m gonna try to sneak out as soon as I can. But we stayed up very late yesterday. I doubt we will go to bed earlier next time.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Her hand reaches down, cupping your balls.

“The possibility is very slim. But if I do fall asleep early…”

Tiffany whispers, before kissing your cheekbone, her hand now stroking your cock over your pants.

“Don’t bother waking me up.”

Her voice becomes barely audible as she looks directly into your eyes, her other hand pushing your finger deep inside of her.

“Just put it in.”

“Fuck, yes!”

You whisper, when you see that Tiffany has sent you a video. It's almost midnight and you’re lying in your bed, about to go to sleep. You have actual footage of you, fucking Yeji’s mom. After years and years of fights and humiliation, you finally hold the ultimate weapon in your hand. You know that Yeji will be at Eunha’s party tomorrow. Now, you only need a plan for getting the video to her.

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

Hello everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new series "SNSD Village". There will be many more epsidoes to come, so please stay tuned. I will post the polls, which can infleunce the next chapter, later.

Stay healthy, everyone!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #snsd village #snsd smut #snsd tiffany #snsd #girls generation tiffany #girls generation #girls generation smut #tiffany young #tiffany #eunha #jisoo #yuri #minju #yeji

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months ago

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Crybaby!Reader X Mafia!König

oh the poor woman..

Somebody free my girl!! Konig is an old, corrupted mafia dog who just loves to see you squirm. He never thought of himself as particularly sadistic towards women - he can be cruel towards men and traitors, but he was usually well-behaved around the ladies...well, you can say that you corrupted a gentleman his momma raised. The first time you cried in front of him, tugging on his sleeve as he was disposing of some dumb fuck who walked on you kissing at the VIP room of the club, you were dragged by accident - he knew he had to keep you. He was mesmerized by your tears; he loved your body trembling, and it got even better when he pushed his hand into your panties and felt the wetness of involuntary arousal collecting in the soaked fabric. God, you're beautiful - and you just signed your death sentence. He drags you with him everywhere, even though usually he likes to keep his pretty girls safe and sound in the various properties he owns - but he loves your reactions too much to keep you caged. It's a small mercy - you are not technically locked in one room, but you also have to witness him killing the enemies of the family like it's nothing - and then he would squeeze your soft, tear-stained cheeks and ask why you cry so much. He thought you were already used to things like this - he thought you knew better than to show your tears to someone who would lick them all away and say that they tasted sweet. To be completely honest, he adores you. Your trembling body, your soft features, your everything - you beg him not to shoot a guy from another gang not because you really care about human life, but because the sound of guns going off makes you really, really sad. Poor little thing, he is buying your affection with stuff later - he is giving you nice gifts; for example, he wipes your face with an expensive handkerchief and smiles when you tremble even more under him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader #yandere konig #yandere cod #mafia!konig

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beomcoups · 6 months ago

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F.U.C.K.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex!bf Seungcheol x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, small fluff, lovers to exes au, 18+

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been on and off forever and you couldn't leave him alone if you tried. You have an itch only Seungcheol can scratch.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral, missionary, riding, praise, dirty talk, creampie, clit stim, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, Coups is a lover boi, angsty feelings about the relationship

𝐀𝐍: Thank youuuuu @hobeemin & @wongyuseokie for reading this for me and Beezy you are the best hype woman ever <3. Also thank you @aaagustd for making this sexy ass banner 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: 💿 F.U.C.K- Victoria Monet, Dirty Dancer- Orion Sun, Idea 686- Jayla Darden, Strings- iyla, Behind- Woodz, Forgive Me- Chloe x Halle, Art- Tyla, I Could Imagine- Alina Baraz, Good& Plenty- Alex Isley, Masego and Jack Dine, Skin Tight- Ravyn Lenae Steve Lacy, Idea 683- Jayla Darden, Body and Soul- Emotional Oranges and Biig Piig, Butterflies- Tyla, Between Us- Alina Baraz, Nasty- Tinashe, Under The Moon - Alex Isley, Jack Dine (spotify)

It’s complicated. Your Facebook relationship status has been that way for over a year. If someone asked, you wouldn’t know how to define your relationship with Seungcheol. You can’t say you’re just friends when the love is still there, but you can’t stay together longer to just work. Something happens, and you argue and split up. Months, sometimes years, can go by, and you feel like you’ve finally moved on, but all he has to do is call, or you have an itch that needs scratching, and there he is, ready to make it go away.

He stands there in front of you, his dark hair clipped and trimmed perfectly, highlighting the handsome features on his face: his dark, round eyes, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. He comes dressed in a simple white tee and sweats, with an overnight bag in hand, as he knows he is staying the night. Seungcheol smirked as he walked in, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“Well, hello to you too,” you say, shutting the door behind you. You watch him take off his shoes, walk into your living room, and admire the view of the city through your picture windows. You just moved into your high-rise condo a couple of months ago, and your job promotion allows you to level up in life and enjoy nice things for once. Your place looks straight out of a movie, with your tastes added. Your favorite color is blue, and you included it in your decor.

“You kept the couch?” Seungcheol points at the royal blue sectional sofa with matching gold-trimmed throw pillows you bought from your favorite thrift store. “Yes,” you say proudly. “That couch is my pride and joy. We’ve been through a lot together.” Memories about the many times you spent together on the couch, clothed and unclothed, cloud your mind. He chuckles as you sashay to the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water. You offer him one, and he shakes his head, returning his attention to the city's shining lights. He’s been in your life for five years, meeting at a grocery store with both of your hands on the last bag of cherries. He relented, letting you have them in exchange for your number. You didn’t give it to him, hoping that you would see him again. At the time, you just moved to the city, and if you were meant to meet again, you would give him your number. A couple of weeks later, you did when you went to a birthday dinner with your former roommate. His eyes twinkled when you exchanged glances, and you felt like it was fate. “You did it,” he felicitates you. “You did everything we talked about doing all those years ago. I’m proud of you.”

You would have late nights with him in your shitty old apartment, eating Chinese takeout in bed and talking about your hopes for the future. Seungcheol wanted to have it all: a nice house, cars, and riches beyond his dreams. All you wanted was a good life. You grew up poor, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to ensure you had a roof over your head. You understood each other in that way, and it worked between you two for a while… until it didn’t.

“You got your high rise before me,” you appear beside him. “What does it feel like, being the top broker in your firm?”

“It’s nice,” he nods. “It keeps me busy.”

You knew that all too well. One of the reasons you broke up was time. His work felt more important than maintaining a relationship with you. You swear if someone called in the middle of the night, he would answer in a heartbeat. It’s not like you aren’t busy; you work on Wall Street. But you still made time to be with him at all important events and when it mattered most. The energy wasn’t reciprocated.

“I see nothing has changed,” you say, taking a swig of your water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think I am ready for it, though.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. There is no point in having all of this if there is no one to share it with, right?”

You didn’t have to say anything back because he was right. What is the point of working hard, making more money than your parents could ever dream of, traveling, and having life experiences without having someone to share them with? It also incredibly frustrates you. Why did it take five years for him to get to this point? The back and forth, blocking each other on all accounts. Was it worth it?

You two are silent, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. His fingers slip in between yours, pulling you closer to him. Just being near him makes your heart skip several beats. No one like him can melt you just by his touch and presence. Yes, he can irritate you to no end, but he also makes your soul smile.

“I missed you,” he says, gazing at you.

“I know.”

You kiss him, the magic stirring in your chest as he returns your feelings; sparks all around you two like fireworks. Your hands explore him fervently, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on your couch. He unhooks your bra, helping you out of your shirt and exposing your breasts. He bites his lip as he palms his growing bulge, the very thought of his lips all over you making you hot.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom, climbing over your king-size bed. He follows you closely, his index finger sliding up your thigh. It feels electric, having him touch you again after so long. You have tried moving on, going on dates, and having one-night stands here and there. But deep down, those people weren’t him. Seungcheol knows your body, what makes you tick, your boundaries, and what drives you crazy. It’s exhausting trying to find that chemistry with someone else. Too bad you can’t just make it work.

He slides your shorts and panties off with one hand, your naked body being illuminated by the moonlight. He notices your sheets, trying to hold it in before succumbing to a belly laugh.

“Cherry sheets? Really?” He says in between breathes.

“Come on now,” you chuckle. “You know I love my little house on the prairie sheets.” “I swear you were born in the wrong generation,” Seungcheol expresses, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah, maybe,” you muse over his words. “I’m glad I met you in this lifetime, though.” He admires you, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kisses you again. This time, it’s more heartfelt, your bodies hungry for another as each minute passes. His hand travels down to your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and slowly entering a digit into your wet core. Seungcheol licks his lips, watching your eyes roll back as you unravel his arms. “Shit,” you moan. “Keep doing it just like that.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he whispers in your ear.

Seungcheol was already great with his fingers, slipping one more in you as his tongue played in circles on your neck, your sweet-smelling perfume intoxicating to him. He loves the way your brows furrow when he goes deep, your mind focused on nothing else but cumming all over his hand. You play with your clit, drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, with your wetness pooling onto your sheets. You two are connected in a way, in your own little bubble surrounded by ecstasy.

“Fuck baby,” you pant as pressure builds up in your stomach. “I’m almost there.” He pulls his fingers out of you quickly, snapping you out of your zone, and you whimper in protest. He aggressively pulls down his pants and briefs, revealing his hardened cock already leaking with precum. He slides down to your entrance, his face nose deep in between your legs before he dives in; his tongue attacks your sweet nectar. Sensational couldn't even begin to describe how you feel. He eats you with an enthusiasm that almost makes you laugh despite the deep pleasure he brings you. “You taste better than I remembered,” he mouths. “Cum for me.”

Your body is at its brink, ready to fall, when Seungcheol slips his fingers in, working together with his tongue to make sure you hit that pool of ecstasy. Your hands grip his hair, and your orgasm hits you like cool water on a warm day. You feel him smirk against your thigh, leaving you with lasting, small kisses before lifting his face and revealing your essence on the lower half. You cover your mouth to hold back your giggles, and he rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing your lips. “I’m not sorry,” you breathe. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he smirks. “Especially when I’m going to make you do it again.”

Seungcheol lifts your leg, pulling himself back as he rubs his throbbing dick against your entrance. Your eyes grow wide as he taps your sensitive, swollen clit, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says as if reading your thoughts. “I’m going to start slow.” “You don’t want me to blo—” you start to protest. “No, I’ve waited long enough,” his deep and velvety voice serves as a warning. FUCK.

He enters you inch by inch, stretching you out the way you like, your fingers already gripping the sheets. You look at him through a hazy daze, his focus on burying himself deep inside of you, bringing you a deep satisfaction. You enjoy watching his Adam’s apple shift when he moans, his voice barely audible while he dives into you. You remember the first time you slept together; he had your legs over his shoulder, fucking you long and deep on top of your blue couch at your old place. You both didn’t intend for it to happen that way; you were caught up in the highs of seeing a band you both enjoy, and one thing led to another. His dick is long with a bit of a curve, fitting perfectly like your pussy was molded and made for him. No one has even come close.

“Give it to me,” you breathe. “Please, I need you bad.” Seungcheol loves it when you beg for it, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Maybe it’s because you love him, but he is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The way his hips roll as he snaps into you, watching him come in and out of you with your wetness coating him, turns you on. Your hands grasp his face, your thumb slipping into his mouth as he fucks you silly. You can barely form words in your head, let alone say anything else but “fuck” and “make me cum”. He fucks you in a way that makes you have wet dreams and leaves you with a puddle in your sheets. If he were a Greek god, he would be Eros, the god of love and sex. That’s how bad he has you. “Turn over,” you grit your teeth. You lean up and flip him over, his throbbing cock still inside you as you are on top of him. You let your body take over, riding him while his hands are placed firmly on your breasts. You set the pace, and he follows, a harmonious rhythm between the two of you, your senses heightened to another level. You are on this incredible high, sliding on his shaft while you vigorously play with your clit, ready to cum. “Did you miss this? He teases you as he grinds harder into you. “Did you miss sitting on this dick until you cum?” You nod fervently, your hand still playing with your clit, and you are ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “I’m close. Let’s come together like we always do.” You erupt, screaming his name while he sloppily pumps into you, his hair sweaty and his succulent lips red from biting. He leans up and kisses you hard, your moans and words of praise swallowed and digested. Whatever you were going to say, he felt it more, your hearts beating in unison powered by your feelings for each other. He talks you through it, helping you come down from your high before he releases his own, spilling into you until he is completely spent. You’ve been on birth control for years, and Seungcheol is the only person you’ve let hit without a condom. It just feels so right with him. You roll off of him, collapsing on your pillow as you try and catch your breath. His breathing is relaxed, and when you gaze at him, his eyes are closed, already half asleep. You attempt to get out of bed, but he grabs your arm, pulling you close to him.

“Stay,” he kisses your shoulder. “I sleep better when you’re with me.”

You can’t deny him when he is in this state, pulling on your heartstrings like that.

“Fine, you win,” you say without much effort.

Glancing at the time, it’s after 12, and fatigue finally hits you at least. Snuggling into him, you fall into a deep sleep, but not before admitting that you still love him and would do anything for him.

The sunlight is not kind as it peers through your windows and wakes you up a little after 9. You had forgotten to draw the curtains before you fell asleep, but you didn’t have much energy left after the night you had. You woke him up after three, sucking his cock until he exploded down your throat, and he returned the favor by eating you out until you were ripe from overstimulation. You made such a mess that you had to change your sheets and listen to him teasing you about your “old lady” sheets. Whatever, you liked them.

You rolled over, and Seungcheol was already awake, scrolling through his phone. He notices you and kisses your forehead before removing your blanket and smacking your ass.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.

You chuckle as you get out of bed, grab your silk robe, and walk into the bathroom. You feel sore; last night’s shenanigans are indeed catching up with you. You just want to lay in bed and relax, but you have this nagging feeling in your stomach. You could brush it off and deal with it later, but knowing you, you will overthink, turning it into something it's not. You have to know how he feels.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you leave to find him setting orange juice on your nightstand with a couple of ibuprofen. He is only dressed in his sweats and nothing underneath, your center aching for him despite the tenderness you feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading your look. You have never had a good poker face.

You sit down on the bed, take your two pills, and wash them down with orange juice. You allow yourself to get your thoughts in order. You're unsure what to say, but you know the conversation needs to be had.

“What are we doing?” you blurt out. “I love you, and you never stopped loving me. Why can’t we just get it right?”

The silence is too deafening for your liking. It would be like you to tear the band-aid off first thing in the morning. But you hate being in the dark, not knowing what the future will hold. You’re not saying that you have to jump the broom, but you have to know if there’s any chance he feels the same way you do.

“I-I-m sorry,” you shake your head. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you first thing in the morning. Forget I said anything.”

You attempt to leave the room before Seungcheol catches your arm and motions for you to sit down. Grudgingly, you do, sitting on your ottoman and facing him. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond,” he complains. “You can’t always assume how I feel is something bad. Give me a chance.” You nod, knowing deep down he is right. “You are right,” He admits. “I love you, and this song and dance we’ve been doing for years is tired. I came to you last night because I missed you and I need you. You’re the only one in my life who has always kept it straight with me, even when you get on my nerves.” You smirk at his comment, knowing it’s true. “But we have also been apart for a long time, and as much as I want to jump back into our usual routine, I recognize we have grown up a bit and need to get to know each other as our different selves.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words, unsure what to say. “I also don’t want to see anyone else,” he breathes. “You are the only person I want to see, to do this with.” He points at the sheets, and you roll your eyes. It would be like him to somehow bridge it back to sex.

“So…” your voice trails off. “What are we then? We are more than friends but not together? I don’t understand.” “I want to be with you,” he grabs your hands. “If we fight and storm off to our houses, I’d rather it be that then we break up and don’t talk for months at a time. I hate that.” You nod, finally understanding what he is saying. He is scared of the future, just like you are. But in this life, you would rather go through it with him than anyone else. You have too much time and feelings just to throw it away. “Maybe we can try talking to someone about it this time around?” You say. “A therapist or something? I want to be with you, and maybe working through our issues to understand each other better sometimes is what we need.” “Yeah, I’m open to that.” He hugs you, embracing you tightly before leaving sweet kisses on your face. You are deathly ticklish, and he knows it. He moves his kisses elsewhere until you find yourself in your bed, his body towering over yours. He leaves you one more kiss on your lips before laying his head on your chest. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

You look down and smile, caressing the dark stresses in his hair.

“Yeah. We will be.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #svt ff #scoups ff #seventeen smut #ksmutsociety

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inupibaldspot · 9 months ago

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Call me by my name

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : college au! Where nerd! Yuta goes out on his first party and manages to snag you, a popular girl who just needed someone to have ‘fun’ with.

The room is hot; surrounded by your friends continues to talk and laugh about how Yuuji, who was the star player on the football team slipped in the college cafeteria. But you weren’t interested in such talks— not right now, when you had an aching pain in between your legs.

Normally in such situations all you had to do was flutter your eye lashes at Choso, your ‘study partner’ who loooved doing all your assignments and at the same time, who had been trained to memorize every inch of your body inside and out but alas! He had to go on a study trip.

Your eyes wander amongst the crowd of people as you take a sip from your plastic cup, paying no heed to the burning sensation passing through your throat from the heavy drink— bingo! You spot your target.

A boy with dark haunting eyes who seemed to tilt from side to side, laughing nervously as he has both of his hands on a cup talking with two familiar figures— Maki, an all rounder athlete and cousins to one of your friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Inumaki Toge, a guy you shared a class with.

As soon as you see the two people leave the poor boy whose eyes was dropped to the floor instantly, probably nervous to make eye contact, you make your move.

“Hey there.”

Yuta raises his head to see you in-front of him, his breath hitched almost instantly as he takes on your appearance. You had a beautiful face with eyelashes which flutter in a flirting manner; but one thing he was trying to avoid looking at was the curve of your ass as the way you leaned down makes the swell of your breast very much visible.

He gulps. “Hey…”

“I’m y/n.” Yuta catches a whiff of your perfume laced with alcohol which makes him intoxicated, his pants suddenly becoming so tight.

He clears his throat. “I’m Okkotsu Yuta… Nice to meet you.”

“Say Okkotsu…” you lean in as you place a hand on his chest, leaning into his ears. “It’s kind of hot in here so how about we go somewhere else.”

As soon as he gives you a green light, you smile. Guys like him who was probably a virgin, who only saw naked woman through a screen were just so easy. You hold onto one of his wrist as you drag him to a washroom in the secluded part of the house.

You didn’t mind teaching Okkotsu the ways to touch and pleasure you; it was more fun that way in your opinion.

So tell me when the situation had turned and now it was you who was a moaning mess while Yuta had you in the palm of his hands.

“Nghhh— Ah…ugnn…” You let out another moan as your legs start to shake. Yuta grips on to one of your legs and brings the other one over his shoulders; you whine as your ability to grind on his face has been completely taken away from you.

“Your whimpers are so so— adorable.” Yuta’s voice almost comes of as a whine as he places small kisses all over your heat before his head completely dives in, his face was filthy from all your juice over his face.

You manage to look down, over the swell of your breast where your nipples remain hard, wet and swollen from the previous sucking and tugs which had almost made you pass out; As you see him slurp, making such nasty, filthy sounds with each action. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up at you almost innocently.

“I want to fill you up with my cum. I want to come inside this pussy— please? Please say ‘yes’.” He whines, looking so needy.

Just where did he learn to do all of ‘these’?

He beams when you reach out your hand as you cup his face. “Ngh…O-of course you can, Okkotsu.” He buries his face in completely once more.

His tongue was deep in you “You can call me by my first name.” Your heavy breathing makes his blood go straight to his his cock making it drip with need.

From a moaning mess,you completely stiffen as you open your mouth. Then proceeded to close it.

“Oh…” His eyes darken as an felt the grip on your thighs tighten. “You forgot my name…”

“Part your legs a little more, sweetheart.” You whimper at his words.“By the time I’m done you’ll have my name running through your mind with every ache.”

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cyborg-franky · 3 months ago

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Prompt: How would the straw hats react to reader being a mind reader? Please and thanks

Repost of mine from libary of ohara

Sanji Sanji is sweating because every time he has an intimate thought about you or anyone else, he can feel eyes on him. You glare and he fidgets under the intensity of it, wondering if you will blurt out the dirty thoughts to anyone else.

Every time he thinks it’s safe to think about how good the woman at the bar would look without their dress, he has to stop himself, turning with a wide eye and seeing you glare at him while sipping your drink. Just ruins the boy’s entire life.

Usopp Another one who just opens and closes his mouth when you are around because after he lies and tells people these big, impressive stories that didn’t happen. You side up to him and ask him why he lied, you are so casual about it too.

Every time he’s about to lie to anyone, you raise an eyebrow, and he just laughs loudly and pretends like it was all fun and games. Now whenever he wants to talk to someone, he literally looks around to see if you are about

Chopper

He is so amazed! That’s a great power to have! He bounces up and down and is just giddy and asks you all about it. You sometimes read his mind and it goes from dumb stuff like ‘I want candy floss’ to something like complex potions to cure all manner of illnesses.

Robin She terrifies you. She’ll be sat there reading a book or just casually sitting at the bar, elbow keeping he propped up, hand on her cheek, her smile just slyly grows as your eyes do when you read what’s on her mind. She loves to mess with you.

She’ll purposely think of something dark or downright filthyand chuckle softly when she gets the reaction, she wants from you.

Nami Oh, you stopped doing that. You completely turn off your power when it comes to Nami, she can somehow always tell when you are in her head, and she’ll turn around with her hand outstretched and tell you the show was more money than you have.

Zoro Zoro’s mind is boring, it’s full of a collection of very ‘Zoro’ things such as booze, hating Sanji, working out and his swords. Plus, Zoro never thinks anything that he wouldn’t say out loud, he’s no fun and he knows that’s how you think and always smirks and thinks ‘nice try’

Franky Franky’s mind gives you a headache if you stay there too long. His face might often say ‘head empty’ but he is always thinking loudlyto himself and has so many projects flying through his head. So many complex designs, schismatics, maths, it’s all very exhausting for you.

Brook Brook doesn’t care if you read his mind so he’s very chill around you, he’s normally just humming inside his mind, and you hate that he can get songs stuck in your head. Like a constant source of the sound, if he’s not humming in his head, he’s humming out loud or thinking about asking if he should ask someone to see their panties.

Jinbei I imagine it’s very serene in there, like a little koi pond with the sound of wind chimes and you just get lost in there until he stubs his toe or something and it’s like a loud internal scream. Same when any of the crew does something stupid and poor Jinbei has to pick up the pieces.

Luffy “THAT’S SO COOL.” He’ll yell at you. The entire reason you’re on the crew was that Luffy found out you can read minds and he needed that on his crew like right now. He’ll sit there and always go “What am I thinking now?…. and now?… and now!!” and it’s always ‘wow that’s so cool’ or ‘I’m hungry, I’m going to ask them to get me meat…”

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

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Revelations

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel asked you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Just a humorous drunk!reader drabble :)

“How much did she have to drink?”

“Maybe three beers?”

“Oh, she’s out of it.”

“How so?”

“She’s been tellin’ everyone she has a boyfriend.”

Jessica Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

Hobie merely shrugged.

You threw them a death glare before trying to negotiate with Peter Parker for another bottle, but all to no avail.

“Please! Give me another one,” you whined, sitting down with a thump on the chair oposite to his. “I’m not drunk!”

“How many fingers am I holding up, then?”

You shove his hand away. “Seven… don’t be silly!”

He banged his hand on the table. “See? You have zero tolerance.”

“You have seven fingers on that hand, Jerry!”

“Who’s Jerry?”

You gasped loudly at the sight of Gwen sitting to your right. “When did you get here?”

“What? I was here the whole time.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Gwen, take a good look at her,” he mustered a serious voice. “You don’t want this to happen when you grow up.”

You leant back in your seat with a sigh of frustration. “I want Miguel.”

“Miguel�� O’Hara?”

“Gwen, she’s drunk,” you heard Peter whispering.

“Hey! What did we miss?”

Miles and Pavitr nade their way through the busy crowd of fellow spiders, each holding a glass of apple juice.

“Took you some time!” Peter beamed with a wife smile, scooting to the side so they could join the group at the table. “Nice job, kids. The mission was a success.”

“Miguel seemed unimpressed,” Miles grumbled into the heel of his hand.

Peter hid a bottle away before you could snatch it from him, earning a grunt. “I’m sure he’s delighted!”

“Yeah? That’s his delighted face? Looked like someone had just threatened to break canon.”

Pavitr patted his back. “That’s just his regular face, Miles.”

“But he’s really hot…” you said dreamily with an ear-to-ear smile, leaning into Hobie’s shoulder.

Multiple pairs of eyes blinked at you.

Pavitr spoke first. “Miguel?”

Both Miles and Gwen were looking at you like you’d grown a third arm.

“Maybe we should get him here?” You heard Jess saying from behind you. “And you,” her hands gripped both your shoulders to straighten you up in your seat. “You need to sober up.”

You stuck out your tongue as the other spider-woman brought her travel watch to eye-level.

“Lyla, I’m guessing Miguel doesn’t want to come, but—”

The AI cut Jess off with a cheeky smile. “He’s on his way, actually.”

“Miguel is coming?” Peter beamed, unable to contain his excitement.

“Great!” You clapped your hands a couple of times, eager to see him.

Hobie took a sip of his drink. “Bet he’s gonna ruin the vibe.”

Miles nodded right away.

You were about to protest when a chorus of greetings from diverse spiders echoed throughout the bar.

“Evening, boss.”

“Miguel! Great to see you here tonight.”

“Howdy, boss.”

“Meow!”

He was here and once he came into your field of vision — albeit slightly blurred — you felt your heart flutter.

“Look who decided to come out of his cave,” Jess said, her lips quirking up into a smile.

“Miguel!” Peter punched his bicep playfully.

You were waving your hands enthusiastically at him. “Hiiiiii!”

But Miguel wasn’t amused.

His eyes roamed across the table.

“Who brought the beer?”

Everyone immediately pointed at Peter — you included — who was already smiling sheepishly while raising both hands in defense.

“Miguel, we’re just celebrating a successful mission and—”

“Peter, how many times must I tell you not to bring that stuff here?”

“She only had a couple of beers,” Peter replied. “It’s not that strong. I don’t thin—”

“That’s your problem! You never think,” he replied, jabbing a finger at bim.

You giggled. Miguel looked extra hot when he was pissed off. Poor Peter, though.

“Up you go,” Hobie said, hoisting you from your seat, trying his best to keep your balance. “Mind your feet.”

“Wait where are we going?”

“You need to get some fresh air,” he said, helping your arm around his neck for support. “Mr. Grumpy here is about to ruin the mood, I reckon.”

You didn’t want to leave, but figured Hobie was right. He was always right.

“Where are you going?” You heard a voice call out once you’d turned your back.

You twirled on your feet nearly tripping and knocking Hobie down in the process.

“Wait… why are there two of you?” You hiccuped.

Both Miguels arched an eyebrow simultaneously. Impeccable synchronisation. “Two of… what?”

You reached out with your hand to touch one of them but it met with nothing but air.

Huh?

“We were goin’ out for some air.”

You shook your head and the two spider-man 2099 had finally merged into one.

You fluttered your eyelashes dramatically at him. “The just one last beer… pleeeeease…”

“I really can’t do that.”

“But you can do me!” you blurted out with a wink.

Miguel pursed his lips.

Chaos immediately erupted from the bar table, causing some of the spiders nearby to shift their attention to the commotion.

“Language! There’s kids here!” Peter said, trying to cover Gwen’s ears.

“We are not kids!”

Jessica clicked her tongue. “No more drinks for you, young lady.”

“—you are still kids at heart!” Peter was now dealing three very grumpy young spiders.

Hobie, however, saluted you with a proud smile on his face. “You just left Miguel O’Hara speechless. Respect.”

You giggled at Miguel who was definitely not amused. At all.

Before your brain could process what was happening, your body was being hauled from the ground and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

“Time to go home.”

“PUT ME DOWN!” you protested, balling your fists and smashing them against a very hardened surface. “MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO DEAL WITH YOU!”

You felt your stomach lurch violently from the motion and decided to tap your webshooters in an attention to free yourself.

The result was…

“HEY! Get-get this off me!”

“I’m sorry, Pavitr!”

Your blob of web had landed on his face, sending the young spider into a frenzy as both Miles and Gwen hurried to aid him.

“Who’s the bloke, hm?” Hobie asked with a grin.

“It’s classified!”

The spider-punk scoffed. “Is that code word for ‘capitalist knobhead’?”

“Funny, ‘cause when I first met Miguel he—” Gwen started.

But was promptly cut off. “Lyla, deactive her webshooters before someone loses an eye.”

“On it, boss!”

You growled in annoyance as an orange beam hit your wrists, rendering the devices uselss. It didn’t take long before you were being dragged out of the bar, multiple spiders glaring you and whispering to each other.

“We can take her home,” Jessica offered, patting the top of your head endearingly. “It’s close by.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Hobie seemed visibly amused. “Maybe we should wait for her boyfriend to get here.”

The big man carrying you halted his steps.

“What?”

You blinked a few times as you saw the pavement start to tilt and go into a swirl. “I’m going to fall!”

A strong arm came to wrap around your waist, keeping your firmly in place.

That was close.

“Yeah she’s been sayin’ her boyfriend’s gonna be here,” Hobie shrugged.

“She’s had too much to drink,” Peter said dismissively.

“And he is!” you snapped. “See, he’s very strong, Jerry.”

“Really?”

“He’s the strongest spider-man,” you smiled, pride evident in your voice. “Very handsome…”

The spiders in front of you exhanged confused looks and as the motion resumed, your insides flipped momentarily.

“He’s really big, too…”

Jess spoke this time. “Big? As in… tall?”

You nodded. “Right! But also… his dic—”

“Enough!”

“Bloody hell…”

“Woah!” Jess gasped.

Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives.

“Miguel’s face!” Gwen chuckled as Miles leaned on her shoulder fighting back the tears.

Oh. Right.

Miguel was the one carrying you…

Peter was absolutely scandalised, urging them back inside. “Let’s finish our apple juice,” Peter called, ruffling Pavitr’s hair. “I have these amazing photos of Mayday to show!”

None of the budged, though, enjoying the show.

“Real shame your boyfriend isn’t here to witness this,” Hobie said.

You grinned. “But he is! Right here!” you accentuated each word with a pat between Miguel’s shoulderblades.

“Ah, knew she was talking gibberish,” Hobie clicked his tongue.

Jess came to take a look at Miguel’s face. “I… don’t think she is.”

“Well! What a fun night,” Peter said in his usual cheerful voice.

“Wait… WHAT?!” Gwen and Pavitr half-yelled in unison.

Miguel let out growl. “Go back inside. We’ll talk about the next mission tomorrow.”

“But—”

He turned to face them, which had you clamp one hand on your mouth from the turbulence.

All three of them rushed back inside with Peter following closely behind.

“No wonder you showed up for once,” Jess said adjusting her glasses.

“Please… don’t start,” Miguel sighed. “Especially you.”

Hobie adjusted a couple of pins on his vest. “Chill, bro.”

“Say bye-bye,” Miguel said, tapping the back of your thighs.

You waved your hand clumsily at them. “Byeeee!”

Both of them returned the gesture, chuckling.

In no time, you felt yourself being hurled into the night sky across the tall buildings that covered the landscape of Nueva York.

The cool air and silence allowed the realisation to suddenly dawn on you as Miguel carried you effortlessly with each swing of his web, red glow flashing around you.

Fuck…

“They all know, don’t they…” you mumbled into his embrace when he made a quick stop at a rooftop.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Miguel…” you hiccuped.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”

You curled up against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he heaved a deep sigh and ran one hand along your back in a loving caress.

He had wanted it to be a secret mostly because he feared others might see it as a liability. After all, as long as he put up a front that he had nothing to lose, then it would be a great asset to have in this line of work.

Or so he thought.

Feeling the pounding headache brewing inside your head, you merely groaned into the crook of his neck.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

Christian Woman

König x Nun!Reader

Word count: 12.5 k Tags/warnings: 18+ pure FLUFF & SMUT & COMFORT

First time/loss of virginity, implied consent, teasing, corruption kink, fingering, cunnilingus, thighing/intercrural sex, protected p in v. Silly, sweet, kind of innocent, kind of naughty. Romance, forbidden love trope, love as a religion, happy ending.

Part 3/3

Everytime König enters your life, you start to lie.

You lie about where you’re going and where you’ve been, you lie about who you see and what you do. People think you’ve helped some foreign man to hospital, that you were away last night to make sure he got safely into treatment. You told them he was some poor fellow who got stabbed and robbed on the street and that you called the ambulance from his phone and that the police needed to see you today for further questioning.

You lie and lie and lie, and then slip out to see König, who’s hopefully alive and still in the same place you left him last night.

When you enter the old, half-demolished building now serving as a B&B, the same old man from last night looks up with wary eyes. He immediately relaxes back to reading his paper when he sees you’re only the harmless, grey nun from last night.

You sneak upstairs without exchanging a word with him and go straight to König’s door. Giving it a quick knock and uttering, “It’s me,” you half expect to get shot through the wooden entrance. But there only comes a happy “Come in” from behind the door, and you notice König hasn’t even locked the damn thing. Is he expecting you, or is he simply that confident with his gunslinger skills?

Turns out he’s probably both, because you freeze right there on the doorstep when you step in.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers this time, and your eyes fly straight back to his eyes after being glued to the prominent package between his legs for far too long. And good God, the man’s got some muscles on those legs...

“Hallo, Kätzchen,” he greets, giving you an obnoxiously flirty smile upon noticing how flustered you look.

“You… You shouldn’t be up yet,” you quickly turn to close the door.

“I have to use the bathroom, no?”

He looks at you from across the room, so innocent and sweet and, at the same time, so mischievous that you don’t know what to do or where to look. He’s gotten rid of the hood, but there are traces of black paint around his eyes, it still clings to his brows, making him look like someone who just came home from a carnival. You want to go to him and wipe it away and tell him that he missed a spot and that he’s clumsier than you thought, but you can’t... You can only fall deeper into your awkward shyness as he raises his brows.

He turns what appears to be the shreds of his old shirt in his hands, then dumps it into the bin, suddenly a little nervous too. There are moments when you have suspected that König might suffer from social anxiety or shyness around people, but he covers it very well. Around you, the man seems to be at ease, flirts and jokes with you often and is very straightforward with his intentions.

You wonder if he likes you so much simply because you are unattainable.

Maybe you represent some girl next door to him, perhaps you remind him of his first love. Perhaps you happen to be something so sweet, innocent, and unreachable that he feels strong and safe in your company. Perhaps holding hands and trading a few passionate kisses feels safer than going after a real relationship… Perhaps this Will they, won’t they situation is enough excitement for him, too.

Or perhaps König has been so wounded by women that he prefers to be around a frigid – or at least very virginal – nun rather than face the dangers of approaching a real, attainable woman.

But flaunting himself like this in front of you is yet another clear sign that he, at the very least, loves to tease you to death. He looks like he’s in far better condition than yesterday, and starts to peel off the bandage like it’s just a scratch he suffered.

“Let me help you with that,” you rush to him, silently relieved when he lets you clean the wound and change the bandage. He even lays himself down to be treated by you and smiles with his signature grin as you fuss around him.

“Not a word,” you risk a glance his way while gently cleaning the wound.

“Not a word,” he promises with a cheeky smile, and gets another erection.

It’s even worse when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear... You can see the bulge stretching the fabric, forming a tight, thick curve right next to you as you try to focus on your task.

“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” you offer while trying to concentrate on examining the skin for any signs of irritation.

“Eh. They’re dirty.”

“I can go and ask if they have a laundry room here,” you propose. “I could wash them for you. Do you need a new shirt?”

Ugh, what a stupid question...

“Why not,” he shrugs. “If the view is unpleasant...”

“Behave yourself now,” you say with a soft smile. “XL…?”

“At least.”

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. You bite your lip as he dares to moan on the bed, too. You’ve brought him food last night, and he’s being treated carefully and touched softly, he’s getting his clothes washed for him, he’s got his own personal nun worrying about him 24/7. Of course he’s moaning.

And you’re in danger because you just love to pamper him. It feels more meaningful to treat his wounds and run on errands than do the eternal dishes at the convent. You feel like you’re saving a life here... Like someone actually needs you, depends on you. You feel so wanted, and König seems to fully agree with you.

“I could live the rest of my life like this,” he purrs on the bed as you gently put a fresh bandage in place.

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Are you really going to get me a new shirt…?” He asks with bright puppy eyes – the faked innocence is so blatant you want to throw a pillow over that face.

“If you give me some money to buy one, then yes.”

“You can have as much as you want. Buy yourself something nice while you’re at it, hmm? As a reward.”

“I don’t do this for the sake of rewards.”

“I know... But you could buy yourself anything you want. A new dress, new jeans, lingerie… Give me a little fashion show when you get back?”

König knows you’re probably the last woman on earth who’s interested in shopping sprees, let alone new jeans or sexy lingerie. Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to see his face when you do a little twirl before his bed, wearing nothing but a laced bra and some matching strings…

“Give you a fashion show?” you laugh. “When did thanking me turn into you profiting from it?”

“I’m just saying... If you need new underwear, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You snort and shake your head slowly. “You’re far too cheeky when you’re injured. I truly hope you get better soon.”

“I don’t,” he crosses his arms behind his head, looking perfectly pleased with himself while lying there in nothing but his underwear. “And neither do you.”

“Excuse me? Of course I do…!”

“No, I don’t think so. You like to take care of people, I can see it. You’d make a good field medic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You remain calm under pressure,” he says. “And you take good care of me.”

“That’s only because you were silly enough to get shot.”

“...And I would do it again if it leads to this,” he grins.

“Cheeky,” you shake your head reprimandingly. “Far too cheeky.”

“You are an angel,” he says gently. “And I mean that.”

You rise to put the trash in the bin, then look back at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. It’s like he's stripping away pieces of your armour – you fear nothing will be left before this visit is done.

“Did you eat any of the food I brought you…? You need to eat something, and drink a lot of water–” You take a look at the side table, noticing he has already eaten everything you got him last night. “Gosh. You must be getting better if you have an appetite like this...”

König only laughs on the bed. “I’m sorry, Kätzchen, but that was just a snack.”

You brought him three sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and a bag of walnuts, but they’re all gone. Of course a soldier of his size eats like a horse, and he needs all the food he can get, having gone through the wringer last night.

“I’d kill for a Schnitzel and a tall beer,” he sighs dreamily on the bed, no doubt knowing you well enough to tell that you’ll get him anything he wants if he only plays this wounded soldier role right.

You begin to doubt if his injuries were ever that serious. It just looked bad last night because he was so tired, and there was blood everywhere... With a bleak blink, you realize most of the blood you cleaned off of him last night probably wasn’t his own.

He’s in a cheery mood now, looking at you hopefully from the bed, arms crossed behind him, legs out long, wearing nothing but those stupid black boxers and that goshdarned, sweet smile.

“Do you think you could get me one of those big Schnitzels somewhere…? You know, the really big ones.”

“Maybe,” you cross your arms over your chest, and furrow your brow when he visibly perks up on the bed a little. “I said maybe. We’ll see. And you’ll get water instead of beer.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t need alcohol right now. Plus I can’t just go and buy beer looking like this.”

He smiles. The man’s all smiles today… Probably because of all the blood loss. Or maybe because you’re the girl next door who’s going to bring him his favourite food.

“Of course not,” he says, with hazy love in his eyes. “I am already forever in your debt, Kätzchen.”

…

It’s not a sin to take a nap together.

That’s what you tell yourself as you curl next to König after you bring him his Schnitzel, shirt, and a few bottles of sparkling water.

“There’s plenty of room for both. Come on, I won’t bite,” he shifts on the bed and extends his hand to invite you in.

You lay yourself down next to him and tell yourself it’s just to please a recovering man. There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

Still, your body is singing by the time he takes your hand in his own, wrapping both your arms around your middle like you’re an established couple about to get some sleep together.

Raindrops are slowly tapping on the window, and you tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes a bit as your lids drift closed. König is already snoring behind you, with another erection pressed against your back. You’re not intimidated by it: it only feels natural to cuddle him like this. The rain turns into a languid rap, and you know you won’t be leaving this building in a while. With the contentment of a cat who’s finally warm and safe, you fall into a deep sleep.

You stir after an hour or two, waking up to such a pleasant, safe feeling you don’t quite remember when you’ve ever felt this good. König has buried his face in your neck, somewhere in the folds of your coif, probably in an attempt to reach some skin. He pulls you closer when you try to shift, rumbling contently behind you.

“Sleep well…?”

“Mm...”

The moment is so lazy and cosy you don’t want to get up. A large, warm hand flexes against your stomach as König buries his face deeper under the veil. He reaches the skin of your neck and inhales deeply, making all the tiny hairs across your body shoot up.

You let him kiss you there, and he does it with reverence, like he’s kissing a holy idol. It’s chaste enough but makes you go taut in his hold – in fact, you have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud.

“I think I need to go now,” you whisper, doing absolutely nothing to act on that threat.

“Mm–hm,” he agrees while keeping your body hugged tight against him.

“König… Really, I need to get back...”

“Ja... Ok,” he mutters, hand traveling up the thick black cotton of your habit. It meets your breast and cups it without shame. You feel the hot, hard length twitching against your back, making leaving this bed less and less tantalizing.

You whine when he starts to fully paw your breast, thrusting his hips up and against your butt. The kiss turns into a love bite right after as he starts to use teeth on your neck – your back arches on instinct, a broken sigh slipping through your lips. He can't be serious... A hickey-covered neck is the last souvenir you want to bring back from this nap.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” you whimper, but he just laughs softly. The sound is thick and breathless, cinders and smoke so close to your ear that you’re shamefully wet even without his other… advances.

The afternoon is mellow, it has stopped raining, but you wish you could stay on this spun sugar bed with him forever. You know what you want already; in your heart, you’ve made a giant decision, but the overwhelming realisation is too much to bear.

And so you rip yourself away from his arms and flee once again. He’s the devil himself, smiling on the bed with another proud erection tenting his pants. Rushing back to the convent, adjusting your veil as you go, your mind is plagued with the image of König reaching a hand down those boxers and enjoying a long, drowsy masturbation session while you have to hurry home for Mass.

Christ…

It only took 24 hours to make you melt in his arms like snow.

And the “naps” become a habit as you haul him food or clothes, new from the store or clean and warm from the drier. You bring him a fresh pair of boxers, too, since he only had the clothes on his back when he was shot. He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

Sometimes, he’s cleaning his gun or doing wall pushups when you arrive, indicating that he’s still recovering but getting better every day – and more restless by the minute. At some point, you’re not even napping anymore; you only lay down with him to snuggle and make out, feeling like a shy teen when you only let him touch you over your clothes. His hands explore you literally everywhere except between your legs because that’s when you gently guide his eager paws away.

You wonder if this is what drugs feel like to some people. You’re fully in the present moment, swimming in a soft bliss, calm and whole and sweet and good. Everything in the world is just as it should be.

“If you ever come to Austria, I will take you to the mountains,” König mumbles nonsense into your hair, freed one day from the confines of your veil and coif. It’s a surrender in every meaning of the word – your clothes are the last literal protection you have against his attempts to worship you.

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. “Ja, that sounds good… I’ll keep you there until you come to your senses.”

“That sounds like a kidnapping scenario,” you comment with a soft smile on your lips.

“Ah. My plan is ruined.”

You crane your head to look at him. “No... Not ruined.”

“No?”

“Just exposed.”

You figure it was only a matter of time before this snuggle turned into another make out session. This time, the shared kiss is purposeful, full of presence and slow need. The anxiety is gone, the rights and wrongs of this world tucked somewhere far away.

“We need to stop doing this,” you whisper into his mouth, brain turning into mush from the way he holds you so gently.

“Why…? It feels nice…”

You can’t argue with that, and when his hands start to travel, you do nothing to stop them.

He slides a palm down your curves, pulls you closer by the waist, cups your butt when you don’t seem to protest. Usually, this sort of behaviour has been a little too much, you have treated it as a bridge that shouldn’t be crossed. Now, you let his hand travel down your thigh, you allow him to grab a handful of your skirt and slowly, slowly drag it up.

When you still don’t protest, his unhurried kiss turns into a delighted, hungry one.

He finds nothing but skin underneath your dress, and starts to explore your thigh with a trembling hand. He's warm and big, both gentle and calloused, and you can’t help but think how obscene you must look with your black robes dragged up like that, a man’s hand desperately searching for the treasure between your legs while your mouths devour each other in a slow, sloppy kiss.

His fingers slide up, up, up until they meet the fabric of your panties, then come to a halt right above the mound of your sex. In both horror and thrill, you find your thighs parting, inviting him in, heart racing in your chest as König finds your underwear not only wet but soaked through.

That’s when he groans – into your mouth, hot breaths hitting your face as he examines you through the panties like it’s business as usual that you’re so wet. You’re both ashamed and exhilarated – you haven’t even shaved. And he’s about to…

“Mh–”

You feel him probe the side of the fabric, then casually sliding your poor, soaked underwear aside. Your wet folds are exposed to cold air and warm fingers; the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam.

He drags his fingers across your folds, unhurried and pleased to meet you so ready. The fact that this man could crush your windpipe or break your spine, he could grab your thighs and force them apart like sticks, have his way with you if he wanted, doesn’t make you afraid of him like it probably should. You know he would never hurt you, but the intensity, the intimacy in his glare and touch, are enough to make the air around you feel electric.

“You’ve never been with anyone…?”

The question is breathless and thick, causing your core to tighten.

“No…”

Is it that obvious…?

“Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what…?”

“Nothing. You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t try to steal a peek at your glistening sex, all bared and slick for him. He only has eyes for you. Your rushed breaths, how they hitch in your throat when he brushes a thumb over your clit. Your lids, fluttering over defenceless eyes as you try to search for something to ground you. But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

“I tried to leave you alone. I truly tried, Kätzchen… But you’re so sweet it’s illegal.”

The words hit you, loaded with lust, but you’re too weak to answer him anymore. Pitch-black darkness stares back at you as the sounds of your drenched pussy fill the room. You want to touch him too, but you’re too shy, still trying to silence the buzzing beehive of your brain and come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening.

“I should’ve come back for you… I knew I should have, right away. I was too dumb, meine Liebling…”

Starved and dreamy, he looks down at you, whole body tight as you hold on to him and take in his confession. Only, you feel like you’re the one who’s confessing here… He seems to read you like a book, giving you just enough to keep that adoring look on your face.

He slips a finger in, and you stop breathing for a second, the room seems to go darken, even when it’s high noon. Time slows down while your heart thunders in your chest, giving you a sense of urgency where there is none. Pulling out and adding another finger straight away, he ushers a mewl out of you.

Your fingers curl around his shirt, pulling and tugging it as you try to keep intact. A deep rumble echoes in his chest when he sees you so pliant, clutching him like you’re drowning.

“I know you want this,” he says, voice so rough that you barely recognize it’s him. “Don’t hold back…”

You try to beg him for more but the words come out as a whimper without a voice, causing something dark to flash behind his eyes. That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up. He must like his victims like this, too: on their backs, begging for mercy before he finishes them…

Blinking in despair, you try to drive the intrusive thoughts away, but he’s already upon you. Crossing the last breath of air between you, he captures your mouth in his.

You can do nothing but take, take, take: his fingers and his mouth, greedy for the rapture that’s already blooming in the distance, rising like a tidal wave. He won’t stop kissing you even when you spread your legs further – to what end, you don’t even know, because he fucks you without effort, keeps you pressed against him in a way that says you’re his.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tasting him, your whole body going tense before you erupt with a miserable, pained moan.

You reach the peak and break, right into his mouth, around his fingers, the weight of it all almost unbearable. He groans on your tongue, kissing you while you milk his fingers, your inner walls hugging him in waves.

Nothing moves except you, the shudders and squirms gradually leaving your body while he draws circles on your clit, lazy and somewhat absent-minded, like you’re his favourite toy now.

The release brings with it a roaring wave of sadness, a deep grief, something that has been locked up inside you for months – no, years, now brought to the surface from the bottom of a stagnant sea.

He lets you go reluctantly, releasing your mouth so you can breathe more freely. Burying his face into your neck, you decide to do the same, escaping to the solace of his strength while trying to prevent tears from welling up.

König doesn’t yet understand that your release continues as a cleansing wave of relief; he only pulls out, slowly and carefully, gently sets your panties back where they were, straightens your dress, and hugs you as if nothing ever happened.

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone.

“Scheiße… Did I do something wrong?”

König finally realizes you’re crying, and grows taut from the middle like an iron cord. The pure concern in his voice only makes you bawl louder and grip him tighter, and the man starts to veritably panic.

“Kätzchen, I–”

“No, no,” your jaw is shaking as you try to explain. “I just… It’s…”

You’re hugging him so tight that you don’t know where you end and he begins, but as König caresses your back, swallowing as he does it, you eventually come back down to planet Earth and back to this bed.

“Did you like it…?” He asks, still with so much worry that you could announce your love for this man right away.

“Yes… Very much.”

“Gut.”

You think about returning the favour, but selfishly, you’d want nothing more than to stay here like this, in his arms, for just a few more minutes. Or an hour... Well, if you got to decide, you’d stay here for the rest of your life.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace. He doesn’t make a single move to coax you into touching him in return, and after a few seconds, your voice comes out as a frail question.

“Should I… Do you want me to–?”

“Shh.”

…

Six months without him.

Six months, and now you couldn’t bear to be apart from him for six hours.

You’re glad you were sensible enough to shave before running to him that morning. Making up more excuses about how you’re seeing your friend because she just suffered a terrible loss and needs some spiritual and emotional support, you sneak a couple of blocks down the street to see König. If anyone suspects something, they say nothing, but you feel the lies as a grimy cloak upon your shoulders as you hurry up the stairs of the B&B.

The shadows dissipate when König catches you in his arms. You get smothered with kisses as he spins you around, making you chastise him for being so careless with the wound.

It’s, of course, difficult to scold a man who’s kissing you so profusely… You’re starting to feel like he wants it to open again so that he never has to leave this place. To be honest, you wouldn’t mind it either if you two stayed here forever.

“You’re crazy, and silly, and I like you,” you tell him while looking down at him – a strange thing to do, even if the man has picked you up like this once before.

“Is that so?”

His eyes always light up when he sees you, but now, he looks like a man in love.

“Yes... I like you a lot.”

“And I like you. Do you want to see how much?”

He gives you that slightly crooked grin that reminds you of feline predators, or fantasy creatures who are up to no good. He also moves quickly for a man of his size, and before you know it, you’re thrown on the bed like a sack of potatoes. As you laugh and try to adjust yourself on the bedding, he’s already on his knees, head quickly disappearing under your robe.

God, he’s not going to–

“What are you doing…?”

“Giving you a kiss,” comes a muffled voice under your dress.

He’s headed straight between your legs, two days worth of coarse stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as he goes.

“But… But what about your injuries?” You try to scurry upwards on the bed, hands shooting instinctively to hold his head in place before he does something utterly shameless.

“König–”

“Sei ruhig.”

God – you’re not the most confident woman when it comes to these things to begin with. It’s one thing for a man to lay his fingers on you and look you in the eyes while you cum, and another thing entirely to place his mouth where you’re wet and aching.

What if he won’t like it...?

What if you’re not beautiful enough there?

...What if you taste odd?

You’re shy, as any woman would be on their first time getting head. You’re infinitely grateful to yourself for shaving because there’s a delighted, surprised sound under the robe when König strips you from your underwear.

“For me…?”

He’s smiling at your pussy, voice dampened by the thick cotton, and you thank God that he can’t see your mortified face right now.

You brace yourself for a delicate kiss, maybe a tentative lick or two. But the soft tenderness of yesterday is gone as König presses his whole face into your sex, giving it a good inhale followed by a good, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Wrenched awake from your semi-relaxed state, you jerk up on the bed as he does it again. Then come the flat-tongued, starved licks – your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock, giving a full throb against his stubbled jaw. König breathes a short laugh against you, pleased with this response.

The noise of him “kissing” you is obscene and only gets worse when he drags his tongue up and down your slit. You truly hope the doors here are solid wood because you can’t stifle all the sounds that escape you. For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment.

You’re stunned, and a bit appalled – was this all it took to turn your nose up to your vows? A big man with big arms and a big gun? Some guy who wants to get under your dress after a few weeks of acquaintance…?

Because that’s what this is, a few weeks’ acquaintance currently under your robes, eating you out like you’re his last meal.

The things you’ve imagined him do to you are shameful; even now, you fantasize about König picking you up and taking you against a wall when he gets better. This man treats you right, he treats you sweet, but you want more, you need something earthly and raw, and him lapping you under your habit is precisely that. It’s ravenous and adorable at the same time, so conflicting that you don’t know who you are anymore.

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. It should concern you that he’s so eager to wreck you like this. It should arouse suspicion that the playful aura of this man changes whenever he gets between your legs... He becomes deliciously dark somehow, dark and base and addictive, and you wind into another plane of existence with him, to someplace only reserved for you two.

“König,” you whisper. “I’m– I’m about to cum…”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission.”

It’s dark, again, so smooth and rich that your inner walls clench, then flood with pleasure and pain. The inevitable orgasm is thigh-shaking and soul-ripping, your moans long and pitiful now. They’re not whimpers but cries, bare and pained as he continues to bully you with his tongue, grunting silky sin into your core.

You can feel yourself leak on his chin as you cum, violently, forgetting the whole existence of the man downstairs. He turns you into an overstimulated, limp, heady mess – your chest is heaving by the time König emerges from under your robes.

“Oh God…”

It simply escapes from your lips when you see how wet his jaw is. There’s a pussydrunk look in his eyes as he takes a look at his good work.

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

“Ja... I made you see God?”

“Stop it… You’re so cheeky...”

“Eh. And you’re technically still a virgin. We need to fix that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like a virgin.”

“Well… I can take the blame.” He gives you a naughty little wink. “Remember? I would go to hell for you.”

And as if you weren’t in over your head already, he starts to drag your robes up. Too limp to do anything about him unravelling you like that – not even wanting to prevent it – you continue to catch your breath as his eyes go wide.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under here all this time…?”

He tucks the thick fabric up until your breasts are exposed. You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. Your nipples perk up from excitement under his stare, your panties wrenched down in a hurry, now crumpled and forgotten somewhere between your thighs – the look on his face is priceless as he takes in the view of your exposed body like you’re a Christmas present he just opened.

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly, and while you’ve received plenty of attention these last two days, it still makes you feel odd to be adored like this. His hawk eyes fly back to you, the corner of his mouth tugging up with some new, nasty idea.

“Want to see what I got?”

Oh God…

You don’t even get to express your consent – which would be enthusiastic – before König pulls the waistband of his boxers down.

The cock that springs free is long and thick, heavy and red-pink from the tip that’s pointing straight at you. Curving slightly to the side, it’s even bigger than you thought, somehow having been rendered harmless by his pants, making it seem hefty but never that tall.

Your friend was right about him – tall men have tall dicks… Big hands indicate a big dick, too, you remember as you watch how he wraps tall, lean fingers around himself, giving his shaft a slow half-stroke.

“You want to practice with me?”

You quickly rip your eyes up to his – you’re the world’s lousiest nun, caught staring at a cock like that. König only seems proud that you’re so intrigued by it, his eyes watching over you with dark amusement.

“Uh–huh,” you swallow and nod – Christ, your voice is breaking…

And whatever he means by “practising”, you can only hope that he’s not going to put it inside. There’s not even a condom for crying out loud.

It’s a sigh-inducing thing when he gets to it, rests the heavy head of him on your clit, then drags the fat tip down across your folds.

“F–uck…” his head falls back a bit, lids fluttering closed from the way your slickness feels against him. That’s the most sensitive spot in a man – more of your friend’s advice floods your brain as you watch how he does it again, rasping while guiding himself up and down your slit.

You’ve never seen him so serious: his brows furrow together as he explores your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself while stroking his length. Agonizingly slow, you can see his balls hang heavy and gradually pull tight as he continues to work his cock.

You know you should touch him, return the favour at last – but it’s hard to interrupt a moment like this. You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together.

“Kätzchen…” he rasps, “Would you mind if I…”

You fear that he’ll ask for permission to slip it inside, tempted and weak-willed. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you’d have the will to deny him.

But that’s not what he has in mind, apparently, as he begins to fist himself in a slack hurry, with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He just wants to cum like this and ease the pain that must be terrible after days of sexual tension…

And seeing you laid out before him, naked and dreamy and bare, licked stupid just moments ago isn’t helping, that’s for sure.

“No,” you whisper, “No I won’t mind…”

You brave your heart to reach out and touch him: it’s just a shy hand gliding down his chest, but it makes him groan from pleasure. A brush of fingertips across his abs, and his muscles contract, and when you slide your palm over his hipbone and coax him to come closer, he finally leans forward and on top of you.

“Kätzchen…” he groans in whispers now. “You’re so wet…”

He could slip it in from this position, search for your opening and rough it inside. It’s tempting, so alluring that you almost say please – but that would be a catastrophe, and so you only look up at him, speechless when he supports himself on his hands and starts to glide up and down, fucking himself between your thighs.

The bulged tip caresses your clit each time he pulls back – you doubt you can cum another time like this, but he sure as hell tries his everything to get you off too.

“You want it…” he grunts above you. “You want me to fuck you. Right...?”

“Yes… But–”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No, wait–”

Now it's your turn to panic. You were always taught that condoms are unacceptable, while simultaneously, you know you could never do it raw, not even with König.

This is a moral choice you've never had to face before, and your brain is no use to you now. It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin.

"No? It's a sin or something?"

König pants above you, both tired and needy, and you nod with pleading eyes, not knowing what else to do.

"Ok… Ok," he adjusts to the new reality while hovering on the brink of eruption. "I'll talk you out of it later..."

You give him a small smile, and he answers it with his own, slowly, starts to move again. Just the feel of the smooth surface of his cock dragging up and down your slit is enough to bite your lip and moan. Sliding your hands over his waist and down his butt, you give him a good squeeze–

And were he inside you, the effects would have been disastrous.

He cums abruptly, with a stiff, broken groan as soon as your nails dig into his skin. Hot, heavy seed meets your folds; it’s thick, the spurts neverending as he continues to fuck himself between your thighs with little control. How you still have anything left to give, you cannot comprehend, but the sudden, messy orgasm of this indomitable man makes you cum as well.

Everything’s hot and sticky and dreamlike, almost pornographic, your thighs drenched in cum as he ruts through the orgasm with you. You roll your hips in sync with his, arriving at the end of your own mellow, beautiful peak, wondering how on earth it can only get better every time you have sex…

The afterwaves are magical; you basically came together, and it hasn’t even been in yet. If this is what sex is like, mind-blowing and relaxing, hot and sweet and fulfilling with the right person, then you feel both dumb and proud for saving yourself for König.

And you’re starting to realize that you might just have a boyfriend…

No – not a boyfriend.

You have a man.

…

König orders food – or goes downstairs in nothing but his shirt and boxers and makes the poor man order it – while you lie in bed, under covers, still high from all the lovemaking. The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now.

You take a quick shower while waiting for the delivery, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless. Having a man cum all over your folds is not exactly a safe way to practice sex… You’re doing everything wrong, asking König if he has any diseases when he comes back.

He just pulls you back into his arms with a gentle laugh and says: “What do you take me for, a jerk? Of course I’m clean, silly kitty.”

That calms your nerves a little. You’re feeling anything but virginal right now, and putting on the black, heavy robes of a nun doesn’t sit well with you. You leave them on the floor, making König a very happy man by deciding to sit on the bed completely naked.

You reach for the comforter when there’s a knock on the door, and clutch it against your chest like a paid woman while König pays the courier – still in his black boxers and t-shirt, like he’s just a guy who happens to live here.

“What...? Eat?”

The smell of Nepalese food fills the room: the rich, mouthwatering scents in stark contrast to what you’re used to at the convent’s kitchen. Butter chickens, lamb koftas and flatbreads are laid out steaming on the bed between you, and König attacks the food like someone who hasn’t seen a meal in weeks.

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. He munches on the food with his mouth open because it’s so hot – the man’s secretly so greedy that you can’t help but wonder if he had enough love, food and shelter as a child.

“Do you do this often?” You ask when he rips another handful of flatbread to dip in the sauce.

“Seduce women.”

“Seduce…?” He laughs. “Kätzchen, I couldn’t seduce a woman even if I tried.”

You’re unsure if he’s dodging the question or being humble – or worse yet, if it means you’ve been an easy conquest.

“You just did,” you point out, realizing you’re sulking when König tilts his head with curiosity.

“Oh. I’m sorry… Did it hurt?”

You grab a pillow to throw at him, but he dodges it and laughs.

“Careful with the food…!”

And of course he isn’t.

You decide it’s useless with him, and besides, jealousy is not a good look. But you just can’t help it... You’re so in love that it’s not even funny anymore.

To you, he’s a hero and a God in one man, he’s both Satan and the Saviour. But to König, you’re probably just a nice foreign friend... Some cute nun he met months ago, who he finally gets to grope and taste and, hopefully, soon fuck. He says he doesn’t have time for women, and yet he licks you like a professional – not like you know what a professional in this area feels like, but it’s pretty clear that König is not a virgin even if you are.

It must be nice to live a dangerous life and bump into women on the street... Woo them off their feet and leave them yearning, then get shot and cared for by some fussy, naive nun who’s head over heels for him. Perhaps it’s his favourite pastime hobby to torture ladies with flowers and letters and some cock and then leave like a cowboy. You wonder if he has a girl in every city – girls who aren’t nuns, girls who know how to show him a good time.

“Kitten... I’m not like that,” he says, a curry-drenched piece of bread dripping sauce over his fingers. “I only hold hands with you. Now that you finally let me.”

And you don’t know what’s more decadent: eating naked on the bed after making love, or being a Catholic nun who’s about to beg a man to fuck you, with or without a condom.

He finally notices he’s about to make a mess on the sheets, and gobbles the food as quickly as he can before there’s sauce all over the bed. Licking his fingers with dark, glimmering eyes set on you, you quickly focus your attention on the food.

The bastard is flirting with you every chance he gets, even when you two are trying to eat...

“Is this what you call holding hands?” You ask, reaching for a piece of bread he's offering you.

König looks at you a while longer, with an expression he sometimes wears when conversing about serious, deep subject, the issues of God and Heart.

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.”

…

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week.

You, on the other hand, learn that he’s ticklish on the sides of his stomach and behind the ears. You discover that he gets hard if you caress his abs or whisper in his ear that you like him... You learn everything about what kind of handjobs he likes; you find out that he almost rips the sheets apart when you take him in your mouth.

You lie on top of him, you lie under him, you let him hold you any way he likes. He moves you around like a doll, kisses you until you’re soaked, laughs into your neck when you tell him he’s being impossible again. He loves your breasts religiously, bites and nibs and licks them until you grab his head and tell him you can’t take it anymore. He has an oral fixation for your body and has to kiss every part of you: your inner thighs, your hip bones, the quivering place just below the navel; your neck and fingers and arms, even the arch of your foot.

You receive attention only reserved for saints, and fear that someone will notice the smell of cum on you, or the musk of a man, lingering in your hair. Your sisters could easily notice your flushed lips if they wanted to. They could see the dreamy smiles, eyes that have just seen God, but everyone is looking inward, and no one sees how you rebel against the Lord right under their nose.

You stay strong in your no condoms policy, but practice with König every day; you practice so much that his wound opens and starts to bleed.

“Oh my God…”

“Heh… It’s okay,” he says as your stare drifts down to the side of his stomach. The bandage is slowly blooming with red, and your crazy soldier would simply go on if you didn’t order him to lie down.

You’re both naked as you start to patch him up, convinced that this is some sort of a punishment for being so reckless. König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked.

“I like it when you take care of me,” he explains while you clean up the wound. You raise your stare, and in place of a horny, able-bodied man, there’s briefly a boy, a kid who used to make himself sick as a child to get at least some attention.

“Has no one ever taken care of you…?”

“Not really.”

He grunts when the antiseptic seeps inside the wound – you wince, sympathetic to his pain.

“Is that why you like me?” You try to chitchat and take his attention away from it, secretly nervous when fishing for details on why he would want to be with someone like you.

“There are many reasons why I like you.”

“Such as…?”

“Your smile, for starters... I like that. And then… I really like your ass.”

“König...”

“What, I’m not allowed to?”

You purse your lips to scold him, but really, your heart hurts so much it burns. There are a million doors to this man, but he only keeps one or two open at a time, to prevent an attack of some sort.

“I like your devotion,” he says, finally with some serious air about him. “Your kindness. You don’t hurt people.”

“...But you do,” you whisper. It’s not an accusation, only a comment.

“I would never hurt you.”

The playfulness is gone, and while you miss it, you also like it when König gets fragile like this, stripping himself of all the shields that make him a strong, confident merc.

“Sometimes we have to fight for the things we love,” he continues, probably explaining why he endorses violence.

“Killing is a sin,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kätzchen... You can’t tell me it’s a sin to kill the ones who would try to hurt you. You can’t tell me it’s not love to hurt them back.”

You look at him, calm and adoring on the bed. He’s so sure of his choices, like an archangel set on the borders of Eden with a flaming sword in his hand...

And the rose is starting to unfurl, the enigma finally unravelling itself. You’re the sacred Other, the opposite of him, you’re the great Mystery he’s infatuated with. You have peace and faith and hope and love: everything he lacks.

And he’s the opposite of you. Fierce, vengeful, violent… Hopeless, suffering, without peace. Ready to dive into the world and bathe in it, be it a pool filled with love or blood.

He’s searching for the answers, too, only in different ways.

“And no one ever will.”

“No one’s trying to kill or hurt me,” you whisper, trying to stand brave under that flaming stare. But he’s stronger than you, even when recovering. He pulls you back to the bed and in his arms because that’s where you simply belong now, and caresses your cheek, as gently as you caressed his withered flower in your cell.

…

You know your days at the convent are coming to an end, but when the abbess gives you a warning after the fifth day of you skipping half of your chores, appointments and prayers, you go to see her.

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. You say you’ve studied your soul for months now, coming to a conclusion that the life of a nun doesn’t suit you after all.

These things happen, and people have left before; it’s nothing new under the sun that a nun or a monk wishes to return to the world. This is not a prison, you remind yourself, knowing that your departure will send some waves through the place but that eventually, people will go on with their lives.

You will probably be forgotten in a year: someone else will take your place, and you will continue your adventures someplace far away from here… Or that’s what you hope.

But even if things didn’t work out with König, and you somehow ended up alone, it has become clear that you can’t stay here and continue this double life.

König’s offer doesn’t sound too bad: the Austrian Alps sound very enticing, actually. A simple life away from the buzz of the city is a golden opportunity for you; peace and faith can remain in your life without preventing you from participating in it. If only you knew whether he was kidding when he said that…

“Are you sure, sister? This seems like a rash decision.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I… I think I have found something,” you try to awkwardly explain.

“Something… Or someone?”

“I just know that I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

“On that, I agree.”

You go through the procedures, ritualistic, almost. The abbess asks whether you understand that this cannot be undone: you can’t just leave and then come back if you change your mind. The doors of the Church will always remain open to you, but your vows cannot be renewed, not in this convent. If this acquaintance of yours turns out to be a disappointment, you cannot simply come back here, don your robes, and start over.

She’s only doing her duty, and you try to listen respectfully, nodding as she lists the things that will be out of your grasp after you walk out those doors. Thinking that everything’s settled, you inform her you’ll leave today, to which she puckers her brows.

“My dear. Don’t you owe it to this convent to meditate on this for one more day? Don’t you owe it to yourself, to the Lord...? I’m sure the world can wait a few more hours.”

You sigh, bow your head, and bend to her will.

She’s right; you can’t just leave as if all the years of joy and peace here meant nothing. You have people to say goodbye to, and you owe it to God to say your prayers, not your last, but last behind these walls. You haven’t even attended the evening mass these days; it’s like you stopped being a nun when a certain Austrian soldier asked if you wanted to take a nap with him.

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too.

You catch very little envy in your sisters, but there are some who look at you with jealous disdain when you tell them that no, you don’t even have an apartment yet, nor a job, but that you’ll take your new life as a gift and face it like an exciting adventure.

Thinking about König all day long, you can’t wait for tomorrow so you can tell him the good news. You hope he understands that you can’t visit him every day, even if it has been your silent agreement that you knock on his door before noon. It’s a good thing that the poor man gets some rest: you can tickle and giggle and practice with him tomorrow to your heart’s content, it’s not like he’ll disappear in the next 24 hours.

He’s in König now; all that bliss resides with him and the moments when you two break bread together, or wash each other, tell each other silly secrets on the bed, fall asleep after a round of good sex.

Except that that’s exactly what you fear while you go about your day.

Sorrow and excitement mix in your heart with bittersweet torment, but what haunts you most is that you no longer find God in the great hall where your sisters sing. You don’t feel His presence during the Mass.

Sun sets behind the window, and you sigh while peeking out of your nunnery turned prison. Silence weighs upon you like a blanket, but you can’t get any sleep.

There’s a sudden “clack” on the window, followed by rap, small pebbles or something clattering against the glass. You rise to sit on the bed, instantly thinking of König and his stupid, silly threats.

The longing is awful, it’s even worse when König was away for half a year because now you actually have something to miss. You wonder if he’s watching the same sweet skies as you, if he’s worried or hurt when you didn’t visit him today.

You wonder if the man has only shrugged his shoulders and left…

It can’t be…

There’s another clack, then another, until you jump from under the covers and go to the window, opening it without even remembering to be quiet.

As soon as the windowpane glides open and you peek out, you meet König and his stare.

“What are you– You can’t be here...!”

“I was just about to sing,” he grins without even bothering to tone down his voice, letting the remaining gravel in his hand fall to the ground.

Bending his knees, he swiftly jumps up, pulling himself to the window sill like it’s easy parkour, probably opening that goshdarn wound again in the process. No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put...

Throwing a pair of long legs over the sill, he makes himself at home, forcing you to take a good few steps back as he simply waltzes inside your room.

“You didn’t come to see me today,” he says like it’s some kind of an explanation for this silliness.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. “Something came up, and I had to stay here.”

If you tell him that you’ve just renounced your vows, there’s no way you’ll get him out. He’d just say you must celebrate the good news by making love all night.

“That’s alright,” he says amiably. “I’ll just visit you.”

Trying to argue with whispers doesn’t really help your cause. König only smiles down on you like a cheerful, jovial sun.

“But... It’s... You can’t be here…!”

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“You and your promises… We both know how well you keep those. Go back before you get me into trouble, silly. We can see each other tomorrow.”

“But I want to see you today.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.”

“I don’t think so.”

He takes another step, forcing you to back away until you bump into your bed. Crossing the final breath between you, he pulls you into a kiss.

So much for contemplating your choices and dedicating your last night as a nun to God…

And it’s laughable how fast he rids you of your clothes these days. It’s stupid how fast you’re able to help him get undressed… You all but tear the clothes off each other; actually, you can hear a seam rip when you both yank the shirt over his head, the new black t-shirt you just bought him a few days ago.

Does he even know what he’s doing to you…?

Muscles rippling in the fading sunlight, he’s a god mortalized. Body built as a weapon to rip or ram his way through enemies, to you, he’s only ever been the source of joy and pleasure.

You could pray on the altar of his pecs, sing songs and chants to his lips, worship the bunching muscles of his thighs, kneel before the thing that rests thick between them. The sheer width of him is enough to make you drunk: desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.

You lay yourself on the bed, and he follows, like a big panther or a prowling titan. The bed sags as he sets his knee on it, it wails when crawls on top of you. Heavy cock swinging between his thighs, it seems like a cruel joke that you chose this man to be your first.

And you didn’t expect that you’d lose your virginity this way: in your old room at the holy convent you swore yourself to a few years ago. You didn’t expect you’d lose it to a giant soldier who starts to frantically search for a condom after you whisper to him you’re done with practising.

While theoretically a sin, you’re more sullen with the prospect that you won’t be able to feel the silken hardness of him now that he rolls the plastic on. A little too enthusiastically – as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, let alone cummed all over one two times yesterday.

Still, you find heat pooling down your stomach as he approaches you, keen and eager and as hard as a man can get when he sees something that he likes.

He doesn’t need to part your legs: you do it for him, and when he sees your pussy all puffed up, leaking a thin stream down on the bed, his brows knit together, the expression reminding you of approaching thunder in summer.

His gaze is heavy like midnight when he guides it back to you – always back to you and your eyes, even if there’s a whole feast down there, prepared just for him. The backs of your thighs meet his as he slowly crawls forward, spreading your legs further apart before the battering ram.

“Kitten...” he rumbles. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The springs continue to wail beneath you: it’s like the whole world is against you today, even the stupid bed making it far too likely to get caught. And if you get caught, it won’t be just by some shocked sisters screaming when they find a man inside your room… It will be by them screaming when they find him inside you.

And he doesn’t seem to even care.

“Ach so my little nun… I hope we don’t break the bed,” he smirks.

“I hope you don’t break the bed…”

“You want me to take you down there instead?”

He nods in the direction of the floor, and you can only blink – your soldier boyfriend is offering to fuck you on the cold cement as if it’s some kind of an option.

“I’m not having my first time on a floor,” you grump.

“Heh. Thought so, princess.”

The possibility of getting caught makes him visibly excited. Hell, it makes you excited... You wonder if he’s an adrenaline junkie, leading a dangerous life and having a life-threatening job, now choosing to try his luck at fucking a nun at a cloister.

You don’t want to be a challenging conquest or a kinky story told to some fellow soldiers at a bar… You want to be a commitment; you want to mean something to him. But you can’t escape the fact that this setting is turning you on. You’re even worse than him, spreading your legs and hoping he’d touch you with that cock; just drag it down your lips and glide it in already.

His gaze is heavy, blue steel, blazing in the darkness as he looks at you so wanton on the bed, a simple crucifix on the wall as the only witness to your deeds. This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life…

Replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he finally lets you have what you need. The tip of him is hot, even when covered in thin plastic, and the sight of him, large and powerful and dark, looming godlike above you, makes you think of pagan heroes and kings. To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want.

With a curious finger sliding down the wet, heavy seam of you, he swears when meeting you so pliant and wet. Thanks to your constant “practising”, you’re always slightly aroused, getting in the mood the instant you see him.

Contrary to your belief, having sex multiple times a day doesn’t, in fact, stifle sexual desire but adds to it… It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box together, only the box contained all the pleasure in the world instead.

“Are you ready, kitten…?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… We need to be quiet…”

His smile is a flash of a grin in the falling darkness. “I’ll try my best.”

The sound that leaves the back of his throat is a deprived, hoarse moan. He seems to be enjoying it more than anything while you’re trying to remember how to breathe, but when he settles fully in and stays there, you start to actually feel something… Something thick, and heady.

Settling to your entrance, he tells you to relax, and you try your best with that; you truly do.

But nothing can prepare you for it, the fat head of him sliding in, smoothly and with a spread that leaves you gasping. The fulfilment is phenomenal – you try to remind yourself to relax your muscles as he pushes a few inches in, and then some more, and then some more. More, more, more, until you start to feel your inner walls wake up with alarm.

Seated so deep that his balls arrive to touch your flesh, your body starts to accept him, squeeze him, hug him.

And it feels good. In a way, it’s the best feeling in the world.

He groans, slightly high-pitched and surprised; perhaps you’re tighter than he expected, or perhaps he can feel the hugging thing…

Your cheeks are panging with heat – the whole building is silent except for the broken breaths of you two, and the lewd sounds of fucking on your chaste bed not made to take this sort of abuse. Growing only wetter and wetter, you try to keep your moans lodged inside your throat as he starts to fuck you with determination, seeing that you’re enjoying yourself.

Pulling out the slightest bit, he chooses to head straight back, apparently not wanting to be deprived of your heat even for a second. Thrust by thrust, he pulls out more, allowing you to get used to what it feels like. The bed is absolutely horrid, creaking every time he buries himself back in.

It’s a punishing of sorts, his cock knocking the air out of you every now and then. The slap of his balls against you is sinful – your room has seen nothing like this, nothing but some shy solo action every few months. Now you’re spread wide open for a good pounding, his hips reaching a pace that makes the rest of the world slowly dissolve.

Realizing he might be a bit too enthusiastic with a woman who’s a first-timer, he swallows and slows down his pace, causing you to almost scream with frustration.

“Am I being too rough…?” He asks, panting like he just ran ten miles. Plugged deep inside you, you can feel his cock throbbing and pulling near the point of cumming – perhaps another reason why he stopped.

“No… No.”

You sound puny under him, fingers flexing over his skin, the great ribs flaring in reply under your touch.

“You want more?”

“Mm. Needy little thing...”

“...Yes.”

Huffing in the hollow of your neck, he breaks into a smile and licks his lips.

You barely catch the hint of degrading tone in his voice, a mocking, something about the way you’re so wet and needy for him stroking his ego just the right way.

Knowing that he’s here for reasons other than just sex doesn’t change the fact that you enjoy getting sweaty with him, spiralling into a state of total surrender. Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours.

Ecstatic that you just came, König no longer holds back; he doesn’t even let you gather the remaining pieces of your sanity before he starts to chase his own peak. Taking what he needs from you, the trusts turn into short, quick pumps, some foul German curse hissed between his teeth just before he cums.

When the tide swells, it’s a bit different: not just external stimuli and shallow friction, but areas never explored now getting nudged as well. The delicious drag of his length in and out of you, the thickness making you feel overstuffed, does make the pleasure well like never before.

You’re not accustomed to this, being forced so dumb by a cock. Cheekily anticipating the swelling wave, it breaks upon you almost without warning. There’s nowhere to escape, and the climax is blinding, the euphoria leaving you without air for a moment.

You can feel every thick pulse of his cock, and fear for the condom that looked far too tight to manage to take both him and his load. You whimper and cling to him as he ruts through his heavy bliss, entire body throbbing with heat from the joy of spilling inside you.

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. The man on top of you is sweaty and catching his breath, but you’re only glad to swim in the messy, sweaty newness of you two.

“You ok...?”

You want his weight on you… You want him to stay inside you until he grows soft, you need him to be as drowsy and complete as you.

Hugging him tight in the middle of your post-coital bliss, you feel König rumble into your neck.

“Better than ever,” you breathe a smile. “How about you…?”

“...In heaven,” he replies, and you have to stifle a giggle pushing up your throat. He has never sounded so spent. So tired, happy and fragile…

“I just want to be with you like this,” he continues to mutter on your skin. “Can I be with you like this…?”

“Yes.”

He slowly rises to lean on his elbows, propping himself on them one by one. Weary, pleased eyes slowly focus on you, and the back of his palm comes to caress you, knuckles gently brushing your temple, thumb swiping away an escapee hair.

“Kitten… I’m serious. I don’t want to live without you.”

“We have a tradition in Austria where men sometimes steal the bride.”

“How convenient,” you smile.

“I know you belong to someone else, but I’m going to steal you.”

Your eyes are full of stars, you just know they are. If this is another one of his jokes, you can’t bring yourself to care, not as long as he looks at you like that, eyes so set and determined.

“I’m sure He won’t mind,” you mirror his gesture, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“I’ll fight Him if he does.”

“...You can’t fight God,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You open your mouth, then close it, shaking your head on the pillow. In a way, you can imagine him taking up arms against God if it came to that. If there was someone foolish enough – or brave enough – to rise against God, that someone would be him.

“König… I renounced my vows today.”

“...You did?”

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too.

“I tried to leave in the morning but the abbess made me stay for one more day.”

“Ah... So you’re being held a prisoner here?”

“Kind of.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells you that he already has another plan coming right up. That grin means mischief; but with you, only the sweetest kind.

“Well. You’re in luck, then, because I’m here to save you.”

“You just said you’re going to steal me,” you laugh.

“Call it what you want, kitten,” he winks. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

…

The sun has set, but the evening is bright, the sky filled with stars visible even through city lights. It’s dark in the courtyard as you sneak out of the window with König, trying not to giggle as you escape. You call it a prison break; he calls it Einsatz Rapunzel. Whatever it is, it feels like freedom.

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König.

He whispers promises on your skin, saying that you won’t stay here for long; his contacts will get you to the heart of Europe, tomorrow if you want. You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new.

Night covers you with beauty and grace, his pulse against your palm both a promise and a blessing. You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fluff #könig x female reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig fanfiction #cod smut #könig x nun!reader #könig x virgin!reader

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bumblesimagines · 5 months ago

Text

Curiosities

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Overwhelmed and distraught by his duties and the death of his child, King Aegon decides to indulge in his favorite pastime: visiting the Street of Silk. However, he decides this time, he wants to seek comfort in the one person he's always been curious about.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT warnings, Aegon being Aegon, mentions/implications of child exploitation, mentions of teen-adult relationships, mentions of Targcest/incest, death of a child, sexual content dontttlookatme, (Y/N)/Reader is a brothel worker, potential spoilers for S2, mentioned/implied homophobia (the Faith)

Aegon is a pathetic wet cat of a man (derogatory) but Tom is so pretty

~~~

Aegon hardly remembered the first time he'd visited a brothel.

Perhaps it was the mixture of drinks in his system preventing him from recalling the first time he'd stepped foot in a brothel. He'd been a teenager, he knew that much, and he'd likely paid for the prettiest woman in there. He'd had enough experience messing with the maids around the castle to know what to do and he'd ensured to pay well for the service. But despite not recalling the act itself or even the woman he'd done it with, he vividly recalled the worker who'd caught his eye the second visit.

It'd been a week or so after the first visit and he'd gone in sober, willing to drink whatever the brothel had in stock until he passed out or was kicked out. He sauntered in with his typical confidence. He was a prince; everyone wanted a taste of him. The other customers in the brothel regarded him with smug smirks and nods of acknowledgment, to which he returned with the same smugness. He'd taken a seat at one of the tables and savored the way workers glided toward him in revealing clothing - or no clothing at all - with coy smiles and flirty coos. His eyes, however, failed to lock on the women flocking to him.

Across the way, he noticed one of the rooms with the curtains drawn back by a few inches, giving view to the worker and customer inside. A boy around his age, perhaps a year or two older, sat on the bed with his rope drawn back and hanging loosely from his shoulders. A woman had her head on his chest, her eyes shut tight and cheeks stained with tears while her red-colored lips formed words.

The sight would've made him laugh, it was utterly pathetic for a grown woman to cry on the chest of a boy, but his heart lurched longingly when the boy raked his fingers through her hair and gently rocked her. The act looked so... sweet.

"Who is that?" Aegon questioned one of the women settled at his side, hardly paying any mind to the soft stroking of his chest. She tilted her head over her shoulder, searching for what'd caught his attention before she spotted the two. She gave a soft hum and looked back at him, her lips delicately dragging over his cheek and stopping at his ear.

"That would be (Y/N)," She told him softly, her voice velvety. Her long lashes tickled his skin. "Poor Nora lost her husband to a horrible fever not long ago, My Prince. I hear he looked like (Y/N) in his youth. She seeks comfort, not pleasure."

"I see," Aegon murmured and finally took a swing of the wine offered to him, waiting for it to settle into his veins before he gave in to the ladies around him. His eyes continued to drag toward (Y/N) throughout his stay.

Men in brothels were no surprise, not to frequent customers, at least. Some enjoyed the company of men without facing scrutiny, some needed the money, and others were simply raised in the brothel. Throughout his visits to the brothel, Aegon learned it'd been the latter for (Y/N); a boy born in a brothel who simply never left. He found his curiosity spiked with each visit, each time he caught sight of him serving wine or slipping behind the curtain to entertain someone new.

Aegon never approached. It was completely new territory, territory he'd been told by septas and maesters he should never enter.

It'd only been when his little son and heir died at the order of his older half-sister that he decided he couldn't give a rat's ass about what the Seven thought of him. They'd never given him a time of day, even as the King of Westeros, so why should he care? His son was dead, his sister-wife was a mess, and the Council acted as if it were all a mere inconvenience.

When he staggered into the brothel that night, everyone stopped their doings to stare at him wide-eyed and silent. Each of them bowed, whether dipping their heads or bending at the waist and watched him as if waiting for him to crack. Aegon hated it. He hated how everyone seemingly viewed him as weak. He was the King, for fuck's sake! The wine and ale swimming through his veins made his senses and emotions heighten, forcing tears to spring to his eyes.

"Drinks on me!" He hollered into the room, and the crowd within erupted in cheers and whoops, the energy returning to the room tenfold. A laugh tumbled out of his lips and his shoulders straightened, soaking in the gleeful looks and nods sent his way. They loved him now, even if they believed him to be a usurper or not. They loved him.

Aegon took a goblet from a table and drank its contents, feeling the liquid burn his throat and send a shudder up his spine. He set the goblet aside and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, vibrant eyes searching the room until they spotted the object of his desire. He made a beeline for him, ignoring the ladies who attempted to catch his eye until he stopped by him and grasped his arm a tad roughly.

"Your Grace?" (Y/N) stumbled slightly with the tug, his grip on the pitcher tightening to avoid spilling any wine. He stared at him, brows lifting and eyes blinking owlishly. Aegon had never seen him up close before, and regret settled in his belly at the realization. What a fool he'd been, letting time pass him by.

"You're mine for the night," Aegon told him, taking the pitcher from his hands and setting it down at the table he'd been serving. The men there shifted uncomfortably under Aegon's stare, none of them uttering a single word of protest and instead turning their attention onto the other workers around.

Brothels had unspoken rules. Everything that happened in a brothel, stayed in the brothel. No one spoke a word of what went down or whom they saw within the walls of one, unless they wished for their own secrets and pleasures to be spilled to the public. Of course, Aegon expected his new Master of Whisperers to hear of it by the time he returned to the Red Keep, but he trusted Lord Larys to keep it to himself.

Without another word, he turned toward the nearest empty room and tugged the curtain open far enough for the two to step inside before tugging it close again. Aegon's heart raced in his chest, be it from the drinks or genuine excitement, he couldn't be sure. He turned to face (Y/N), finding the young man already seated at the edge of the bed watching him.

"What do you want, Your Grace?" He asked gently, his head tilting to the side while Aegon fumbled to get his clothes off fast enough. He looked enticing in the soft candleglow with his rope pulled apart to show his chest and stomach. It made heat spread throughout Aegon's body.

Discarding his layers of clothing, he stumbled forward and grabbed hold of (Y/N)'s face, lips slamming against his clumsily. "You." He exhaled and pressed their lips back together, pushing (Y/N) flat against the bed with ease and digging his knees into the mattress. His hands forced the silky robe further apart, undoing the belt and pushing it further down (Y/N)'s shoulders until he could grab a fistful of it and yank it off the bed.

"What is it you want from me?" (Y/N) asked next, breathless and head tilting back to allow Aegon more access to his neck. Aegon suckled and nipped whatever skin he could reach, littering his skin with red and purple marks that'd surely vex the Madam who owned the brothel, but he was a king. He could do as he pleased.

Aegon laughed airly in return, leaning back to admire his work and pressing his thumb into one of the bruises. "What everyone else wants." He responded, eyes slowly raking over the rest of his body; from his rising and falling chest down to his thighs. Irritation flared in him at the fading mark of fingers and he placed his hand over his thighs, squeezing until he ensured the only mark left was by him.

"Your Grace," (Y/N) reached out to cup the nape of his neck, and in one swift move, Aegon found himself lying beneath him. He blinked up at him and then laughed giddily, hands flying to (Y/N)'s hips and squeezing the flesh there. (Y/N) leaned back on his thighs and took him by the shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position so they were face to face. "What do you really want?"

"Yo-" The word died in his throat when (Y/N)'s fingertips brushed back his messy silver hair behind his ear. His lips pressed together tightly, eyes jumping away from the worker to focus on the lewd mural painted over the wall. (Y/N)'s palm pressed against his cheek, his thumb stroking his skin.

The gentleness of it, the sweetness, the comfort. It was all foreign to Aegon. He was used to being slapped, pushed, screamed at, ignored. Nobody had ever touched him with genuine kindness, not even Ser Criston who seemingly preferred his brother over him, or his mother who spent most of her time staring at him in exasperation or disappointment. The only people who ever looked at him with pure love and adoration... were his children. Little Jaehaerys..

Tears sprung to his eyes immediately, a sob threatening to rise in his throat. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as his vision blurred, fingers curling around the sheets in a desperate attempt to stop the tears from falling. He couldn't cry in front of someone else, much less a stranger. He was a king. He had to be strong. Crying showed weakness. Aegon wasn't weak. No, no, they were all wrong. He was strong. He-

"I'm here, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed softly, and Aegon's eyes snapped back to him. He smiled kindly at him and pulled him closer, his fingers tangling themselves in Aegon's hair. They ran through the silver locks sweetly, comfortingly, detangling the knots that'd formed and scratching gently at his scalp. "I'll take care of you."

With that, the wall he'd so desperately built crumbled, his arms slinging around (Y/N)'s waist as his lips parted to release whimpers and muffled wails. (Y/N)'s arms curled around his shoulder, cradling his head and humming gentle lullabies Aegon vaguely recognized. His body trembled and shook with each sob and cry, arms pulling and tugging him closer; seeking out the warmth and comfort he'd been deprived of since his childhood. A father who ignored him, a mother who begrudgingly cared for him, siblings who hardly liked him... a dead son.

(Y/N) only moved to lean back into the countless pillows, bringing Aegon along with him and letting the king rest his head over his chest. His skin had long grown wet with tears and saliva but he remained silent, focused on rubbing circles along Aegon's back and brushing back his hair until the hiccups and sobs subsided, quieting down into sniffles and tired sighs. Part of him wanted to feel embarrassed but he felt too exhausted to allow the emotion to take hold of him.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, and Aegon's face scrunched up again, the last few tears spilling down his cheeks. Nobody had bothered to comfort him, and he'd been too overwhelmed by everything to seek it from his sister-wife. They hardly understood each other. Her with her odd riddles and sayings, him with his drinking and affairs.

(Y/N) shifted underneath him, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a handkerchief. He dipped his fingers under Aegon's chin and tilted his head toward him, gently dapping at his cheeks and under his nose, drying and cleaning the evidence of his weeping. Nothing in his face changed, no disgust or boredom in his eyes. Only the kind smile and soft eyes. It made Aegon relax fully and completely.

His fingers tightened on Aegon's chin, tugging on it gently and pulling the king up before connecting their lips again. Aegon slumped against him, his clear mind focused on the softness of his lips and the hint of wine still on his tongue. The back of (Y/N)'s ankles met Aegon's bare thighs, carefully pushing against them until their hips were pressed together. He swallowed the breathy whine that escaped Aegon, a brief teasing smile appearing on his face before Aegon began rocking needily against him, the smile vanishing. His parted lips allowed Aegon to venture into his mouth, tongues colliding on occasion.

The hand along Aegon's back began exploring, running over the muscles he'd developed despite spending most of his time lazying about. His hand dipped downward and playfully squeezed the mound of flesh there, a low groan escaping Aegon. He pressed his forehead against (Y/N)'s, his lips curling into a smirk at the innocent look that (Y/N) gave him. Cheeky bastard. It was expected from a brothel worker, though.

The clumsy rocking of his hips increased and the fingers that retangled in his hair gave a tug, gentle enough to not create any real pain but hard enough to get his attention. Aegon whined and dropped his head down to (Y/N)'s shoulder but he eased his rocking, his fingers digging tightly into the pillows and sheets beneath him. At his easy submission, (Y/N) smiled again and pressed a chaste kiss to his temple.

"Good," He breathed and Aegon flushed at the way heat rushed to his lower belly. (Y/N)'s hand left Aegon's backside and reached for the nightstand again, pulling out a small round cup and bringing it closer. Despite his trembling thighs, Aegon managed to peel himself away from (Y/N), the loss of contact making his hips buck.

"What is..." Aegon trailed off, (Y/N)'s hand taking his wrist. His thumb swiped over Aegon's fingers, pressing each down until one remained uncurled. The realization dawned on him fairly quickly, the way his features brightened making (Y/N) laugh softly before he dipped the finger into the liquid Aegon assumed to be some sort of oil.

"I'll guide you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, setting the cup aside and guiding his hand down between their bodies. Aegon's eyes flickered between (Y/N)'s face and his hand, a strangled curse escaping him when warmth greeted his digit. His free hand tightened further around a pillow, the designs threaded into it imprinting in his palm. The way (Y/N) held eye contact hardly helped with his attempt at self-restraint.

His mind ran wild, promptly forgetting about politics or the fact they were nearing a war for the first time in decades in order to focus on (Y/N)'s face. The darkening bruises along his neck only made Aegon's mouth water and heart flutter with pride, every gentle gasp and quiet whine that left him only made his veins burn with desire, something he found more addictive than the intoxication of wine. His head swooped down, burying itself in his neck to drag his tongue over the bruises and darken them even further with more suckling.

His hand began moving, slowly and experimental at first. Aegon hardly considered himself a gentle lover, for he preferred the joy of rough and fast fucking, only ever being considerate when it came to his sister-wife. Even then, even with Helaena, he often chased after his own high and pleasure over everyone else's, but he'd been desiring (Y/N) for far too long to make a fool of himself. When he curled his finger and heard (Y/N)'s breath hitch, he smirked and slipped in a second digit.

Aegon humbly believed himself a quick learner when it came to things he enjoyed, so by the time he added a third digit, he'd already ensured (Y/N) had turned into a panting and whining mess. (Y/N)'s heels dug into his calves roughly enough to turn his pale skin red, the subtle hint of pain only fueling him to quicken his pace. He'd left (Y/N)'s collarbone and part of his chest covered in markings, ensuring any other patrons (Y/N) took for the following days knew who'd taken him to bed.

The hand tightly gripping his bicep flew down to Aegon's wrist, squeezing around it and pulling his fingers out. His lips formed a pout immediately but he savored the gasp and light huff that escaped (Y/N). He swallowed and leaned up, capturing Aegon's lips again before pushing back against him, toppling Aegon onto his back once again and straddling his hips. Aegon's eyes brightened, his hands digging into (Y/N)'s thighs in anticipation.

"Shit," A guttural groan left the king, his blunt nails leaving imprints in (Y/N)'s skin when he wrapped his fingers around Aegon's length, his thumb pressing over the slit. Aegon's hips bucked and he threw his head back, his adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. His chest heaved and a mixture of a whine and a plead fell from his lips like a prayer.

"Easy, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed, his free hand moving to Aegon's chest and pressing against it, fingers gently massaging into the muscle. The hint of mischief in his words didn't go over Aegon's head. His heels dug into the crinkling sheets and his nostrils flared with the deep breath he took, his grip on (Y/N) loosening and thumbs rubbing over the areas apologetically. (Y/N) nodded approvingly and Aegon gave a lopsided grin.

His composure lasted a whole three seconds before it crumbled with a few pumps from (Y/N)'s hand, though he only continued with a chuckle instead of scolding him. Aegon's eyes turned glassy again from the sensations, his breath hitching every few minutes while the knot in his stomach tightened. He let out a whiny noise when (Y/N) paused his movements, his bottom lip jutting out. However, when he caught the way (Y/N) pushed himself further on his knees and hovered over him, he clamped his mouth shut.

Aegon's breath hitched again followed by a sharp curse as (Y/N) lowered himself at an agonizingly slow pace. A dribble of drool slipped out from the corner of his parted lips and trailed down his cheek. His mind had long gone blank, the only thing he focused on being the sensation of (Y/N) taking him with only soft pants and the occasional hiss. He desperately wished to move, to flip them over and ensure (Y/N) wouldn't be able to walk for at least a day but he wanted to be good, he wanted the praise he rarely ever got. So he remained still, hands moving to (Y/N)'s hips and clawing lightly at him.

"You're doing-" (Y/N) cut himself off with a soft grunt, the hand at the base of Aegon's length leaving to plant itself on his other shoulder. Aegon swore he saw stars when (Y/N) fully settled on him. (Y/N) breathlessly laughed at the awestruck, hazy look on Aegon's face, his hand gently cupping his cheek and kissing him. "-so well, my sweet Aegon." Aegon whined softly at that.

"Please," Aegon whispered and (Y/N) gave him a thoughtful look despite the teasing curl of his lips. "I'll be good." He murmured, words slurred but he hardly felt the effects of everything he'd taken that night.

"Will you?" (Y/N) still sounded breathless, the candlelight showing off the gleam of sweat on his skin. His hands moved from his shoulders to wander over Aegon's chest and stomach, trailing over his biceps and arms until they reached his hands and laced their fingers together. Aegon nodded hurriedly, so desperate and wanting but the feeling of their hands together made his stomach flutter with a newfound emotion.

"I-" Aegon had little time to finish his sentence before (Y/N) rose to the tip and then slipped back down to the base, the action knocking the air out of both of them and further tightening the knot threatening to break loose at any moment. One of (Y/N)'s hands untangled itself from Aegon's to slam beside Aegon's hand, a half-hearted attempt at balancing and grounding himself. Aegon held onto the other hand tightly, refusing to let him go for even a second.

(Y/N) leaned down and pulled him into a heated kiss full of all tongue and muffled cries, Aegon's restraint chipping fully away when (Y/N) grinded down on him a few times. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)'s waist tightly, his thighs beginning to ache and burn deliciously.

"Go ahead," (Y/N) exhaled on his lips and Aegon lost himself.

Much time passed, the sound of pained groaning and grumpy muttering from the other side of the window telling them the sun would soon be rising. The thumping footsteps of patrons nursing hangovers echoed through the brothel as they shuffled out, the jingling of coins and such mixing in. The quiet chatter of brothel workers followed, cups and chairs clinking as they began cleaning up.

"Your Grace," (Y/N) sighed sleepily, his eyelids visibly heavy and lip slightly jutted out. Aegon felt equally as exhausted but the sight of him rubbing tiredly at his eyes made his heart swell, finding himself unable to resist kissing his semi-swollen lips. (Y/N) hummed softly, his fingers slipping between their faces to push Aegon back. "You must head home. Your-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Your kingdom requires you."

"I'd much prefer staying here forever," Aegon responded, coiling his arms tightly around (Y/N)'s body and dragging him closer against him. His whole body ached, his muscles sore and head spinning from the beginning of a hangover. (Y/N) breathed out a snort and rubbed his cheek into the soft satin pillow, eyes beginning to droop.

"You mustn't. They'll come looking for you, Your Grace."

"Aegon." He groaned. "Call me Aegon."

"Aegon." (Y/N) repeated softly. "Go home."

"Come with me, then," Aegon told him quietly. At his words, (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, the sleep jerked away from his body and replaced with surprise. Aegon chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. "Come with me to- to the Red Keep. Come... be my paramour. You'll have your own room near mine... and- and you'll receive whatever you wish for. No one will dare say a thing."

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment before he cupped Aegon's cheek and pressed a fleeting kiss to the tip of his nose. "You're exhausted, Your Grace. You do not understand what you're saying. You'll come to once you properly rest. You must go now before the sun rises and others see you." He said, slithering out of Aegon's hold to retrieve their clothes. He slipped his robe on with ease and offered Aegon his tunic.

"I'll get dressed," Aegon took his wrist and dragged his lips over the back of his hand. "If you agree to become my paramour and live in the Red Keep."

"We're only allowed in the Red Keep to entertain, Your Grace. You'll never be allowed to have a brothel worker as a paramour, much less a man. The Faith will never allow it. The Dowager Queen and- and-"

"I do not care what they think. I am King. I can do whatever I want, and I want you to be mine."

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