#sunrise thoughts: filling your cup

[harrysfolklore]

we need a fic about carlos’ win and piastri sisters’ reaction to it

THE LITTLE BITCH WON 🥺 ahhh im so happy for carlos, i had to write this ! i hope yo like thisss

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

The Mexico City sunrise painted the sky as you and Carlos made your way to the track. He'd been unusually quiet during breakfast, that focused energy already building.

"Nervous?" you asked, squeezing his hand as your driver navigated through the early morning traffic.

"No," he said automatically, then caught your knowing look. "Maybe a little. Starting from pole here… the run to Turn 1 is so long."

"You've got this," you brought his hand to your lips.

"Max will be aggressive-"

"And you'll handle it," you cut him off. "Like the little bitch you are."

That broke his tension, making him laugh. "How do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel better by insulting me."

"It's a gift," you grinned. "Now stop overthinking and kiss me before we get to the track and you go all serious racing driver on me."

He obliged, one hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you close. The kiss was deep and slow, full of everything he wasn't saying.

When you pulled back, his brown eyes locked into yours, a soft edge on them that made you melt.

It was hard to think that those same eyes glared you across the paddock once and now you were about to complete five months of being his girlfriend.

When you arrived at Ferrari, Reyes and Carlos Sr. were already there. Reyes pulled you into a warm hug while Carlos got swept up in pre-race preparations.

"My girl," she kissed both your cheeks. "You look beautiful today."

"Thank you, Reyes," you said, squeezing her hands before your eyes unconsciously drifted to the McLaren area.

"You're going to check on your brother?" she asked knowingly.

"Am I that predictable?"

"No, mi amor. Just a good sister."

You couldn't help but smile at that. Over the months you've slowly learned to not feel like you needed to choose between Carlos and Oscar, it was a slow process but their support made it easier.

You found Carlos doing his final preparations. "I'm going to check on Osc for a bit.”

He nodded, already half in race mode. "Tell him I said he's got this. The McLaren's race pace looked good."

"I will," you kissed his cheek. "See you on the podium, little bitch."

His engineer snorted, trying to cover it with a cough.

The walk to McLaren was filled with nervous energy. Early fans were already filling the grandstands, the atmosphere electric with anticipation.

The McLaren garage was quieter than Ferrari, the mood still heavy from yesterday's qualifying. You found Oscar in his driver room, staring intently at track maps.

"Brought you coffee," you held out his favorite pre-race drink. "And Carlos says your race pace looked good."

"Thanks," he took the cup but didn't meet your eyes. "For both."

You sat beside him, studying his face. "Talk to me, Osc. What's really going on?"

He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer.

"I just..." he set down the coffee, running both hands through his hair. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for this. Like everyone made a mistake choosing me."

Your heart broke. "Oscar..."

"And I know it's stupid. I know I've earned my place here, but days like yesterday... it just brings all those doubts back."

"Look at me," you waited until he met your eyes. "Do you remember when you were ten, and you came home crying because some kid said you'd never make it to F1?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "And you made him eat dirt at school the next day."

"Exactly. And what did I tell you then?"

"That I was meant for this," his voice softened. "That you could see it in the way I drove, even in karts."

"And has that changed?"

"No, but-"

"No buts," you took his hands. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be, Oscar Piastri. Bad qualifyings don't change that. Bad races don't change that. You're my little brother, and I've never been wrong about you."

He squeezed your hands. "How do you always know what to say?"

"Big sister superpower," you kissed his forehead. "Now drink your coffee and show them what you can do from P17.”

“Thank you, sister,” he squeezed your shoulder, “Now go back to your man, he’s driving like a beast this weekend.”

When you returned to Ferrari, the pre-race energy was at its peak. Carlos was in his final preparations, but his eyes found yours immediately.

"Oscar okay?" he mouthed.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. Another side effect of your relationship was that Oscar and Carlos became closer than ever. Oscar looked up to him and Carlos grew so fond of him that he cared about him like an older brother.

It was something not even in your wildest dreams would make sense a year ago. But right now felt like the perfect dynamic.

The garage began clearing for the grid walk. Carlos pulled you aside quickly.

"Para suerte," he murmured, kissing you deeply.

"Little bitch," you whispered against his lips. "Go win this thing."

Reyes and Carlos Sr. were waiting in the garage, both greeting you with warm hugs as you settled in to watch the start.

"Nervous?" Reyes asked, taking your hand.

"Always," you admitted. "For both of them."

The formation lap began, your heart pounding as you watched Carlos lead the field around. The ambient temperature was rising, making tire management crucial.

"He's got this," Carlos Sr. said confidently. "Look how smooth his formation lap is."

The garage fell silent as five red lights appeared above the start line. Your hand found Reyes', both of you holding your breath. The Mexican heat was stifling, but you barely noticed, every nerve focused on the Ferrari at the front of the grid.

"Vamos, hijo," Carlos Sr. whispered, his usual composed demeanor cracking with nervous energy.

The lights went out, and twenty cars launched forward into the long run to Turn 1. Carlos got a perfect start, but Max's Red Bull was immediately in his slipstream, the blue car looming in Carlos's mirrors. Side by side they went into the first corner, neither giving an inch.

"Come on, come on," you whispered, unconsciously leaning forward.

Carlos held firm on the inside line, forcing Max to take the longer way around. Through Turn 2, the Ferrari emerged still leading, and the garage erupted. Engineers who usually maintained professional calm were jumping up and down.

"Tranquila, mi amor," Reyes squeezed your hand. "Look how controlled he is."

The pit stop window approached, tension ratcheting up. Ferrari brought Charles in first, the stop clean but nerve-wracking.

"Pushing too hard on those tires," Carlos Sr. observed as Carlos finally pitted.

When Carlos crossed the finish line first, the garage exploded. You hugged Reyes, both of you crying and laughing. Carlos Sr. wrapped you both in a bear hug, his usual composure forgotten as he shouted "¡Vamos!" repeatedly.

Through happy tears, you saw Carlos pump his fist as he drove past, and you couldn't be happier for him.

The podium ceremony felt eternal. When they finally played the Spanish anthem, you saw Carlos's eyes glistening as he sang along. He caught your gaze in the crowd and winked, making your heart flutter just like it did that first time you saw him win in Australia.

Back then, you tried to play it cool, like you didn't care that he won. But right now the story was completely different.

After the ceremonies and media obligations, Carlos finally made it back to the team. He lifted you off your feet the moment he saw you, spinning you around as you laughed.

"Mi amor," he breathed against your lips before kissing you deeply.

"My champion," you whispered back. "My little bitch."

He laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "Only yours."

Carlos received hugs, cheers and champagne showers from friends, team members and family. After taking some photos and watching him complete more interviews, it was time to head out and celebrate.

"I'm going to check on Oscar one more time," you told Carlos, as you walked through the paddock.

"Tell him to come to dinner," Carlos said. "He drove well today, P8 from P17."

You found Oscar in the McLaren garage, already changed and packing up.

"Hey champ," you smiled. "Coming to dinner with us?"

He gave you a small smile back. "Think I'll pass tonight. Bit tired, and…" he paused. "Just want some quiet, you know?"

You studied his face. "You sure? Carlos specifically asked for you to come."

"I know, and tell him thanks," Oscar squeezed your hand. "But you guys should celebrate properly. I'm good, really. Just going to order room service and study the race data."

You pulled him into a hug. "You drove amazingly today. P8 from P17 is no joke."

"Thanks, sis," he hugged you back tight. "Go celebrate with your winner. Just... maybe not too loudly in the hotel? The walls are thin."

"OSCAR!"

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 376,528 others

ynpiastri MY LITTLE CHAMPION BITCH 🥲🥲 i’m SO proud of you mi amor, we all are. one more win this season showing everyone the talented driver that you are. the best is yet to come ❤️

also beyond proud of my baby brother as always, your determination and ability to push through every setback never ceases to amaze me. chin up, i know you got this

oh and lando got p2 i guess

GRACIAS MEXICO CITY 😩

view all comments

username1 AHHHH

username2 SIMP PIASTRI

username3 this is still wild to me they used to hate each other’s guts

scuderiaferarri ❤️

username4 this is wild bc she hated him when he won in australia 😭

nicolepiastri Congrats Carlos! Come visit and bring embarrassing stories of my daughter please

↳ ynpiastri MUM😩

↳ username1 she’s an icon

reyesvdec Te amamos ❤️

↳ username2 the sainz love her so much i could cry

username5 HELP THE LINE ABOUT LANDO 😭

oscarpiastri Love you sis. Congrats to Carlos ❤️

↳ carlossainz55 Thank you brother

↳ username2 this would send 2023 me into a coma

↳ username3 THIS PLOT TWIST

carlossainz55 Te amo

At the restaurant, Lando was the only driver who joined your celebration with the Sainz family. He fit right in, making everyone laugh with stories about Carlos.

"You know," Lando said, taking a sip of wine, "I used to be Reyes and Carlos Sr.'s favorite adopted son."

"Used to be?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, then you came along with your whole enemies-to-lovers storyline and stole my spot," he pouted dramatically. "Now I'm like the forgotten middle child."

"Ay, Lando," Reyes laughed, reaching over to pat his cheek. "You're still our favorite British son."

"Small comfort when YN gets all the good Spanish mom cooking," Lando grumbled good-naturedly.

After dinner, it was time for the party celebrating Carlos' win. He claimed that he didn't want to drink much, but that went out the window when his friends lifted him up as 'Smooth Operator' played.

"SMOOTH OPERATOOOOR!" they sang terribly off-key. Carlos was laughing, one hand clutching his drink, the other reaching for you.

"Join me up here, mi amor!"

"Absolutely not," you called back, but you were laughing too.

Hours later, the celebrations were winding down. You stood outside waiting for your car, Carlos' arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. The Mexico City air was cooler now, but his warmth kept you comfortable.

"I still can't believe it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Second win this season."

You turned in his arms to face him, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The victory high was still there, mixed with the pleasant buzz from the celebrations.

"You know what's different this time?" you asked, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"Hmm?"

"I don't have to pretend I'm not happy for you," you smiled, remembering Australia. "Don't have to hide how proud I am."

His eyes softened as he pulled you closer. "You were terrible at hiding it even then."

"I was not!"

"Mi amor," he laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "You called me 'little bitch' with way too much affection."

"That was pure hatred," you protested weakly.

"Sure it was," he grinned. "Just like when you stared at me during the podium ceremony."

"I was plotting your demise."

"With heart eyes?"

"Shut up," you buried your face in his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter.

"Never," he kissed the top of your head. "I love reminding you how bad you were at hating me."

"I'm starting to hate you again right now."

"No you're not," he tilted your chin up, eyes twinkling. "You love me."

Before you could retort, the car pulled up. As you settled into the backseat, Carlos pulled you close again.

"For the record," he whispered in your ear, "I was terrible at pretending too. Ask Charles - he said I talked about you constantly."

"To complain?"

"That's what I told myself," he smiled against your hair. "But I think everyone knew better."

You intertwined your fingers with his, watching the city lights blur past. "We were kind of idiots, weren't we?"

"The biggest," he agreed. "But we figured it out eventually."

"Yeah," you turned to kiss him softly. "We did."

[girl-lostconnection]

Thinking thoughts about fae!Reader who looks just like a normal person, not a trace of magic in their appearances, not a smidge of glamour the rest of their folk use routinely.

Fae!Reader who crosses paths with 141, their eyes warm when they sell a handsome man with Mohawk a sketchbook in a tiny town somewhere in the middle of nowhere, when the lads are out there.

Fae!Reader who follows the taste of their bonds, who feeds off the “thank you, bonnie!” from a friendly Scot, their eyes shining for a single moment before they are normal again. Regular. Human.

Fae!Reader who meets the even friendlier sergeant right after, their fingers itching to trace the smooth expanse of his dark skin, to sink in teeth into the muscular forearm.

To see if the man bleeds as pretty as he looks.

It’s a different city and a different time now, their hook sinking into the soft underbelly of man’s genuine gratitude when they help him to pick up spilled groceries.

Fae!Reader who hunts Price down, two steps up on the ladder, their excitement vibrating so hard that part of their human, regular appearance start to melt off.

They meet him in a different place again, they get a short “thank you, love” — off-handed and hardly warm, for a cup of coffee they serve him.

But it’s still a thanks, it’s still another hook.

It’s still a debt.

Fae!Reader who comes to Price in dreams, their face always murky, their appearances ever changing, their weight on his hips making him ache for things he shouldn’t. Coaxing out a plea from him, getting their fill of his desperation, kissing the man stupid and leaving before sunrise.

Fae!Reader who now is three steps up, leaving them with the last one.

With Ghost’s heavy presence, with Ghost’s watchful eyes and iron all over the body. This one could be tricky.

Ghost, who knows that they will come — who have seen the dazed look in his captain’s eyes, the way Johnny itches for something and doesn’t remember what for, the way Kyle develops strange hungers he can never sate.

Ghost who bumps into you himself, ‘accidentally’ dropping your coat off the back of their chair in a bustling cafe, murmuring “here ya go, luv” when he picks it up and gives it back.

Fae!Reader who tilt their head to the side and murmur “thank you”, Ghost’s fingers lingering on your shoulders when he puts the coat back on them.

Cold outside, luv, wouldn’t want you to freeze when you are so far away from your court. Following them to the edge of the world.

Bond snaps in place like a tight golden lace, when fae blinks at him astounded, their eyes shining for a second too long, their human face starting to melt just above their left brow before they pull themselves together.

Simon knows he needs to be careful. Simon knows that fae are petty, that fae are dangerous, that fae hold grudges for as long as they live.

And they live forever.

But Ghost hums under his breath and pulls away finally, turning his back to the creature that haunted his whole team for the last three years, weaving themselves inside them.

When pretty fae comes back Ghost is already waiting for them — tugging them out of their shadows, biting down on their neck and holding them down.

You hiss at him, shadows curling around Simon’s ankles, threatening to break them in half. But Simon has the shadows of his own.

Ghost tuts at you like you are unruly pet being ridiculous, leaning in to lick your blood off, low growl rumbling in his chest. Fuck, that’s even better than he thought it’s going to be.

You are half dazed and half mad, when he pushes your back to his captain’s chest. John’s smoke curling like a live thing, John’s fingers angling your head up, thumb prying your mouth open.

Bad bad idea it was to come to them yourself, to make them want and yearn and wait.

Soap smiles, light bending around him, his eyes impossible blue of mountain springs, his teeth just a little too sharp.

His fingers getting into your hair, getting himself just a strand, just enough to tide him over while L.T. and captain take their fill.

Didn’t you know you need to be careful, bonnie?

Fae are petty, after all.

Fae are vicious.

Fae are dangerous.

Kyle’s fingers tug your shirt off, big palms of his coming up to your chest, stars dancing on the edge of his irises, his smile stretching a little too wide to be human.

Fae hold grudges for as long as they live, darling.

And they live forever.

[gf2bellamy]

hi! love your fics so much <3 i was wondering what do you think of sunshine!reader and post-prison spencer... like that man is so wary about everything after what he'd been through and sunshine!reader was just being the goodness incarnate, breaking down his walls one by one 🙏🏻

sunshine — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer having a cut on his forehead , mention of spencer having nightmares , mention of germophobia a/n: hiii !! this made me realize how much i love writing sunshine!reader x postprison!spencer <3 hope you like this

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you laughed with Penelope, your bright energy filling the room like a warm sunrise. The corners of his mouth twitched—just barely—but as soon as he felt it, he forced himself to look away, focusing on the coffee he was pouring.

But then, like clockwork, you shattered through them. 

“Spencer!” Your voice was light, cheerful as you entered the breakroom. “Hi! Good morning! I haven’t seen you all day.” 

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing against his in an innocent touch, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through him. He straightened slightly, tightening his grip on the coffee cup.

“Morning,” he murmured. “Yeah, I woke up a little late today.” 

What he didn’t say—what he never really said—was that the nightmares had stolen his sleep again, twisting through his mind until exhaustion finally won out, making him oversleep. 

You tilted your head. “You know, my alarm clock is pretty amazing. Hasn’t failed me once,” you said, watching him take a sip of coffee. Then, almost as an afterthought, you mumbled, “Except maybe once or twice…” 

A sheepish grin spread across your lips before you perked up again. “But I can totally give you the brand name! You should definitely get one.” 

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The way you stood there, all warmth and light, as if the world hadn’t touched you with the same cruelty it had touched him. A part of him wanted to let that warmth in—just a little. 

Instead, he gave you a small, wary smile. “No, it’s fine… but thank you.” You flashed him a bright smile.

“Okay,” you said simply, turning to grab a cup and start making your own coffee. 

Spencer lingered for a moment, watching as you hummed softly to yourself, completely absorbed in your task.

He exhaled quietly, forcing himself to turn away. But as he reached the doorway, something pulled at him.

So he glanced back. 

Just for a second. 

You, still oblivious, stirred your coffee, completely unaware of the way his gaze softened—just barely—before he shook his head at himself and disappeared down the hall. 

He wasn’t sure why he looked back. Maybe that was the part that scared him the most. 

That wasn’t the first time moments like this had happened. 

Like that one evening on the jet. 

The case had been brutal. He sat in his usual spot, silent, lost in thought. 

And then there was you. 

Sliding into the seat next to him, your knee brushed against his, a casual, fleeting touch that sent a ripple of awareness through him. You didn’t pry or push—you never did.

You simply pulled a small Sudoku book from your bag and flipped it open. A quiet invitation. 

Spencer wasn’t sure why he kept sneaking glances at you as you worked through the puzzle, pencil tapping idly against the page. Maybe it was the way your lips quirked in concentration, or how you absentmindedly twirled the pencil between your fingers when you were thinking. 

You were stuck—long enough that he finally caved. 

“Four,” he murmured, tapping his finger lightly against the empty square, his arm brushing against yours in the process. 

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his, and then came that smile—the one that made something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.

“Thanks,” you said. For some reason, that made him feel lighter. You bit your lip surpressing an even bigger smile at the realization that your plan was working.

At some point, you shifted the book between the two of you, an unspoken offer to let him join in. He could have filled out the entire page in seconds—he already had the answers mapped out in his head—but he waited, watching you work through each number, patient in a way he rarely was. 

And when he saw it—that telltale little pout, the way your lips puckered just slightly when you were stumped. 

Without a word, he would lean in again, pencil grazing the page. 

“Seven,” he murmured. 

Your smile was even brighter this time. You always had a way of brightening his day, even when he least expected it. 

Some mornings, Spencer woke up convinced that smiling was out of the question. And yet, somehow, you always managed to prove him wrong. 

Like today. 

He stepped into the bullpen, his eyes catching Emily and JJ standing by a small pink bakery box, happily grabbing donuts from inside. By the time he walked closer, the box was already half-empty. 

Typical. 

Spencer barely had time to process his disappointment before your voice chimed in from behind him. 

“Spencer!” 

He turned just as you appeared, a small box in your hands. Without hesitation, you pressed it into his. 

“Here.” 

He blinked down at it, fingers curling around the edges. “Hi. What’s this?” 

“Open it,” you urged, practically bouncing on your feet. 

Lifting the lid, he found a single chocolate-sprinkled donut inside. His favorite. 

“I knew the team would finish them all,” you said, nodding toward JJ, who—right on cue—grabbed another donut with a sheepish grin. “So I thought I’d get you one in a separate box.” 

You smiled, and Spencer found himself just… staring. 

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” he said softly, offering a small but genuine smile before taking a bite. 

You and he both knew why you’d gone out of your way to do this. It wasn’t just because he was often late these days, dragging himself in after nights spent wrestling with his own mind. It wasn’t just because the team had a tendency to wipe out the treats before he even got a chance. 

It was because you’d noticed. 

Noticed the way he hesitated before grabbing food that others had already touched. Noticed that, despite his insistence that prison had forced him to overcome his germophobia, old habits still lingered. 

But neither of you said anything about it. 

Instead, you just smiled at each other before heading to your desks, like this was normal—like it wasn’t something small and kind and significant. 

And maybe, for the first time in a long while, Spencer started to believe that kindness didn’t always come with a catch. 

That's when things started to shift.

One morning, as you were settling in at your desk, a cup appeared in your line of sight. 

You blinked, looking up—only to find Spencer standing there, his expression unreadable but his gesture speaking louder than words. 

“Oh.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face before it melted into a bright smile. “Thank you.” 

You took the cup carefully, warmth seeping into your palms, trying to pretend like this wasn’t a big deal. Like your heart hadn’t skipped a little at the thought of Spencer Reid going out of his way for you. 

Spencer shifted slightly on his feet, glancing away as if regretting the decision to linger. “I, um… You always bring everyone else coffee. Thought I’d return the favor.” 

Your fingers curled around the cup a little tighter. 

“Oh, so you do notice,” you teased lightly, taking a sip. It was exactly how you liked it. Of course it was—Spencer noticed everything. 

He gave a small, almost imperceptible huff of amusement, shaking his head. “I notice a lot of things.” 

Something in the way he said it made your stomach flip. 

But before you could respond, he cleared his throat and tapped the file on your desk. “We have a briefing in five minutes.” 

And just like that, he was walking away, as if this was nothing. As if he hadn’t just let his walls slip, even for a second. 

You watched him go, a knowing smile playing on your lips. 

Little by little, he was letting you in. 

And he probably didn’t even realize it yet. 

The next instances were small, almost imperceptible, but to anyone paying attention, it was clear Spencer was letting his walls down bit by bit.

He’d consistently choose the seat next to you in the bullpen, even if there were other open spots. He’d find himself working alongside you—no matter what the task was.

And it wasn’t just in the office. Spencer’s schedule seemed to align with yours more often than not. He’d find himself finishing up work at the same time as you and walking out alongside you.

The way he would stand near your desk, leaning in just a bit to hear your voice, was becoming something he almost looked forward to. 

There was no grand moment of confession, no flashing neon sign that screamed, Spencer is letting you in, but it was happening in little gestures, in the softening of his gaze when he looked at you.

Maybe he wasn’t fully aware of it, or maybe he was too guarded to admit it, but it was happening, and that was enough for you. 

But one particular day, the usual rhythm shifted. The case they’d been working on had taken its toll on everyone, but Spencer had been especially distant.

No one had missed the way he’d brushed off the slight injury to his forehead, a thin cut from the struggle during the case.

It was barely noticeable at first, but under the harsh lighting of the bullpen, it was impossible to ignore. 

“Spencer.” Your voice was soft but firm. He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. 

You were already reaching into the drawer of your desk, fingers brushing over the familiar cool metal of your first aid kit.

It was instinct, really—an automatic response to someone else’s pain. 

“Come here,” you said, motioning toward the chair beside your desk. Your smile was warm and reassuring.

“I’m fine.” His voice was quiet, dismissive. A reflex, more than anything. 

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Spencer Reid,” you said gently, and something about the way you spoke his name made his resolve waver. “You’re not fine. Come here.” 

For a moment, he didn’t move. You saw the conflict flicker across his features, the instinct to withdraw battling against something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like longing. 

Then, with a quiet exhale, he relented. 

You resisted the urge to let out a relieved sigh as he sat down, watching as he brushed his hair back from his face.

“You should’ve taken care of this before we got on the jet,” you murmured, pulling out disinfectant and a clean cotton pad. Your hands worked steadily, but your heart was another matter entirely.

It always seemed to race when he was close like this. 

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. “There were more important things to worry about.” 

You frowned. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to take care of yourself.” 

He didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you stepped closer, standing between his legs without thinking twice about it. It wasn’t until your fingers tilted his chin gently upward that you realized how close you were. 

Your breath hitched. 

Spencer, for his part, remained still. If he was aware of the proximity, he didn’t say anything. But you saw the way his lips parted slightly, how his gaze flickered from your hands to your face like he was memorizing the details of the moment. 

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. 

“This might sting,” you warned softly. 

He gave a small nod, but his eyes never left yours. 

The moment the antiseptic touched his skin, he barely reacted. But you felt the sharp intake of his breath, saw the slight twitch of his fingers where they rested on his lap. 

“You’re really bad at this whole ‘letting people take care of you’ thing, you know that?” you said, attempting to lighten the air between you. 

Spencer exhaled a small chuckle, and the sound made your chest feel warm. 

“I’m aware.” 

You smiled despite yourself, shaking your head as you pressed a bandage carefully over the cut. “Yeah, well. Lucky for you, I’m stubborn.” 

Something flickered in his eyes—something almost too vulnerable to name. 

“I’ve noticed,” he murmured. 

Your fingers lingered against his skin for just a second too long before you forced yourself to take a step back, clearing your throat. 

“There,” you said, suddenly feeling breathless. “Good as new.” 

Spencer didn’t move right away. He just sat there, watching you in a way that made your stomach twist into knots. 

Then, finally, he spoke. “Thank you.” 

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Anytime.” 

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, Spencer did something that surprised you. 

He stood up and reached out, hesitating only for a second before his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The contact was fleeting—just enough to make your breath catch—but then, in a single motion, he pulled you forward. 

Before you could fully process it, you found yourself wrapped in his arms. 

Spencer was hugging you. 

It wasn’t a quick, polite embrace. It was full-bodied, desperate in a way that made your heart ache. His arms tightened around you as if he was afraid you might slip away, and when you felt his lips rest against your shoulder, you thought you might actually break. 

You exhaled shakily, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around him in return. You felt the tension in his frame, the way he held onto you like he didn’t want to let go. 

One of your hands moved up, fingers threading softly through his hair in a soothing motion. You felt him exhale against your skin, the tension in his shoulders melting little by little as he leaned into your touch. 

When he finally pulled away, it was slow—like he wasn’t entirely ready to let go. His hands lingered at your waist, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of your shirt.

His eyes, usually guarded, were soft in a way you rarely got to see. 

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of it. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupted gently. “Not for that.” 

He blinked at you, something unreadable passing through his gaze. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded. 

And then, to your surprise, he lifted a hand, hesitating for only a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was barely there, fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine. 

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of just how close you still were. 

“I should probably—” Spencer started, but he didn’t move, his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, but you didn’t move either. 

Neither of you did. 

Not yet. 

And in that moment, you knew. 

The walls he’d spent so long building were finally beginning to come down. 

[gingerteafairy]

THE SEASON BEFORE SUNRISE

friedrich harding x fem!reader

summary: feelings shift like the changing seasons.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, angst, arranged marriage, death, post anna death, widow!reader. word count: 6.4k

Everyone knew of the desolation Friedrich Harding faced after the loss of his beloved wife, Anna, his dear companion since childhood. Yet little was spoken of the grief you were enduring from the recent death of your husband, a man who had been your companion since your early youth, and from the loss of Anna just a few months ago. Even though the years had diminished the frequency of your contact, your affection for her remained, deep and unaltered. Perhaps it was the weight of society at the time that inhibited such feelings, where female grief was treated as fleeting hysteria, a whim of weak minds and idle hands.

Women, they said, should keep themselves busy, as if the burden of suffering could be softened by daily tasks. It was due to a peculiar tradition in your family, where bloodlines and fates intertwined in strange ways, that you were now the next in line to marry Friedrich. You, the only woman not bound to him by blood, but with a dowry substantial enough to offer comfort to a widowed man. A cold comfort, perhaps, like the silent pact between two broken hearts. It was ironic, you thought, how a marriage without love could be the most fitting consolation. Two widows united not by passion, but by a shared grief and a common memory: Anna.

You and Friedrich had agreed to set aside the formalities of courtship, and secret meetings in the winter garden of your home had become a regular practice. There was no time to waste. Youth had already passed, and both of you had experienced the weight of losing something precious. Now, only pragmatism remained. The marriage would come, and with it, the certainty that the wedding night would not be consummated. There was no reason for it. There was no more urgency.

The next morning, you woke early and dressed simply, but appropriately, for breakfast. When you entered the kitchen, you saw Friedrich seated at the table, his tired eyes absorbed in a thick book. His cup of tea was nearly empty, and the morning sunlight cast soft shadows on his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that loss had etched into him. When he noticed your presence, his body straightened subtly. He closed the book with a careful gesture and set the cup back onto its saucer with an almost automatic delicacy, as though the simple act of drinking tea was a ritual of composure.

"Good morning," he said, his voice rough and formal, clearing his throat with a slight motion of his hand—an old habit of someone accustomed to maintaining an elegant facade, even amidst pain.

"Good morning," you replied softly, almost inaudibly, as you moved closer to the table. You sat down with the grace of someone who already knew the intricacies of the space, your eyes briefly settling on the fresh pastries and fruits laid before you. The gentle scent of herbs from the tea filled your nostrils, offering an unexpected sense of comfort.

“Had an unpleasant night?" Friedrich asked, lifting his cup with precision, his eyes—tired but alert—never leaving you. He took a pastry, bit into it carefully, and paused, letting the silence linger for a moment before drinking his tea with measured, slow movements, as though each gesture were calculated.

"Quite the opposite, Mr. Harding," you said, offering a gentle smile, feeling the weight of the title. The word "Mr." seemed so distant, a barrier that still lingered between you. "You have a lovely place." You paused briefly, your fingers almost absentmindedly tracing invisible circles on the edge of your cup.

"Friedrich, please," he corrected, his tone softening in contrast to his earlier stiffness. His hand moved to the napkin, white and clean, to remove a tiny crumb that had settled on his elegant mustache. Even now, after Anna's loss, he exuded an unshakable class. "We agreed to make this as normal as possible. We are adults."

"Yes... Friedrich. I apologize." You spoke with a cordiality that flowed naturally. Your smile was timid yet sincere, and you resumed your breakfast with a slower pace, as if you were still adapting to the new routine—strange and, at the same time, familiar.

The ensuing silence wasn’t uncomfortable. There was an unexpected tranquility in the air, like a silent conversation that both of you knew how to navigate without words. Being with Friedrich was different from anything you might have expected. The void left by shared losses had turned into a tacit alliance. You weren’t just widows; you were companions on a journey that no one else could truly understand. The bond between you was more than just suffering; it was the mutual acceptance of the present moment—a silent contract that, despite the pain, something new could grow. Not from love, but from necessity, from the understanding that, in some way, both of you were navigating the same turbulent waters.

"I’m afraid I must go to work," Friedrich announced with his usual polite formality, rising from the table with a smooth motion, as though every gesture of his were part of a well-rehearsed ritual. You, too, stood up, moving instinctively to give a curtsy, but he raised his hand, halting your movement with a gentle yet firm gesture.

"There’s no need," he said, his voice low, almost impersonal, but with a hint of something more—an unspoken desire to break free from the formalities.

"I always did this at my old home," you murmured, an unexpected wave of discomfort washing over you for the first time in his presence. The seemingly simple gesture felt like something larger, something from another time, something you still carried with you as a relic of upbringing.

Friedrich merely offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he folded the napkin with deliberate calm, his gaze briefly dropping to the table. "Don’t worry about that here." His voice softened, almost intimate, as though he were trying to push away a part of himself you didn’t yet know. "Get used to being free, without those mechanic acts."

You swallowed hard, sitting back down at the table, a little disoriented, and turned your attention back to your coffee, trying to find comfort in the small things, like the warmth of the tea. "I… Thank you, Friedrich… Have a good day."

"Thank you, Miss. Have a wonderful day," he said, giving a small nod. With a nearly imperceptible movement, he stepped away from the table, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the heavy silence that filled the air.

That small encounter, despite its simplicity, ignited something in you. A forgotten spark, a glimpse of something approaching freedom—a faint light, yet still, something that could guide the way. Even with the emotional distance between you, that moment felt significant in some way. He seemed emotional, perhaps even unsettled. You tried not to be drawn into it, but then, you heard it.

"I’m sorry." His voice broke the silence, the softness of the words catching you by surprise. When your eyes lifted, you found his gaze. Blue, deep, seeming even more lost than before. "For your husband. It must not have been easy."

There it was. The strange and unexpected connection you had sensed between you. It was the first time anyone had expressed their condolences in such a genuine way, without offering empty advice about remarrying or retreating to a convent. He understood your grief. He understood you.

"Well… Thank you for your condolences… Friedrich," you said, your voice trembling slightly, the lump in your throat tightening. You adjusted yourself in the chair, trying to find a more composed posture, yet something inside you was shaken. "My previous marriage wasn’t as happy as yours. Your loss, without a doubt, must have been much greater than mine."

"On the contrary, my dear," he responded softly, almost warmly, and leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, as if sharing a painful secret. "You suffered the most of us all. I heard the stories of your husband. I have happy memories of my Anna. But what about you? What remains?"

His words were a sharp blow, like a knife driven deep into your chest. He knew the stories, knew the whispers and murmurs about your marriage. You fell silent, lifting the tea cup to your lips, trying to hide the tremor that spread through your hands. You sipped the tea more forcefully than you intended, attempting to silence the pain that surged up in a way you hadn’t expected. The past, with all its lies and absences, seemed to manifest once more.

"I loved him." The words came out softly, almost like a silent confession. That phrase, so simple, still felt like a heavy burden. Even after all this time, you could still feel the echo of something that, for a brief moment, seemed like love. "It was a shame we never had the chance to have a child before the… accident. I feel like it might have distracted me, perhaps."

He took a deep breath, the air seeming heavy in his lungs, and nodded, as if the words didn’t need to be spoken for both of you to understand the pain. The atmosphere, once light, now carried the weight of memories neither of you wished to revisit. Plague, death, lost causes. The torture of being left behind by those you loved.

"Would you like to take a walk?" His question caught you off guard, and the tension seemed to drain from your posture as if by magic.

"Yes. Of course. That would be lovely," you replied more quickly than you had intended, feeling an unexpected lightness in your chest. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of something softer in Friedrich’s eyes—something you couldn't quite define, but it stirred a mutual curiosity.

He forced a small smile and rose from the table. You took a final sip of your tea before following suit, gently wiping your face with the napkin. Friedrich took deliberate steps until he stood beside you, extending his arm so you could walk closer to him than you had expected. You looped your arm through his, and together, you walked in silence toward the garden. The only sound was the steady rhythm of your steps, almost in unison, and the faint noises of a few servants at work in the distance.

The soft morning light touched your face, the cool breeze contrasting with the warmth of the sun, kissing your cheeks with a refreshing coolness. You glanced briefly at Friedrich, who returned your look with a small smile, his blue eyes sparkling under the soft morning light. He inhaled deeply, the fresh air filled with the scent of newly blossomed flowers and the distant scent of pine trees in the garden. It was spring, but there was still a chill in the air. The birds chirped carelessly, crossing the blue sky with few clouds, which looked more like mere decorations in the landscape.

"If it weren’t for the circumstances, I’d say this feels like a romantic play," you remarked, letting the gentle breeze play with your hair. The sense of freedom felt almost absurd against the complexity of the situation.

"Indeed. It’s a beautiful day today," he replied, his tone lighter as he scanned the scene around him. Then, he paused briefly, a subtle movement that indicated a puddle in front of you, his attention that of someone who had done this countless times before. Attentive, but almost unconscious.

"Did you always do this with her?" you asked, carefully stepping around the puddle and continuing your walk. Your gaze followed his movements, unhurried, almost automatic. It was a gesture that seemed to be part of his nature.

"Not really. She was careful, as though she knew every stone she stepped on." His tone grew distant, as if momentarily transported to memories of times past. Then, a small, almost nostalgic chuckle escaped him. "But I never stopped doing it. At least it served a purpose with you. You’re a bit clumsy."

"Clumsy?" you laughed, surprised by the playful and sarcastic jab he’d thrown your way. Your laughter echoed lightly through the tranquility of the garden. "Is that an implicit signal for me to pay more attention, Herr Harding?"

"Don’t be silly." He smiled, a look of amusement crossing his face before he stifled a chuckle in his throat. "Don’t change your behavior because of some nonsense I let slip. I just mean, it’s easier to handle it that way."

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, feeling the proximity of his presence, the warmth radiating from him in contrast to the cold wind that still marked the changing of the season.

"Anna was perfect. Fabulous." He paused, searching for the right words, as if he were touching something painful, yet inevitable. Then, he cleared his throat, a subtle attempt to clear the tightness before continuing. "But sometimes I felt like I always had to be…"

"Nervous?" you completed his sentence, your gaze attentive to every unspoken word, the soft rustle of the breeze contrasting with the heavy silence. Friedrich gave a slight nod, acknowledging your guess.

"Like I always had to be perfect," he sighed, coming to a stop and sitting down beside you on a small bench in the garden, shaded by thick trees. He seemed exhausted, yet relieved at the same time, as though the weight of the words had momentarily lightened. "I know I’ll never replace her. But with you, I feel at ease. Like a confidante."

“Well, two widows together. Is there anything more tragicomic than this?” You joked, once again touching on the peculiar humor that seemed to flow so naturally between you. This time, Friedrich couldn't suppress the laughter. The sound came from him lightly and effortlessly, like a wave, vibrating through his chest, free of the constraints that had held him back before.

“You’re quite subversive, aren’t you?” he said, a playful expression spreading across his face. He ran a hand over his mouth, as if brushing away his smile, crossing his legs and slowly retrieving a cigar from his pocket. The movement was deliberate, almost like a ritual. “Do you mind?”

“No.” You shook your head with a smile, signaling for him to go ahead. Still, he placed the cigar back in his pocket with a silent respect, as if he already understood what truly mattered between you. “I’m subversive because I have a sense of humor? I didn’t know you were so conservative.”

“Spare me. These rules of etiquette are nonsense invented to rob us of life.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if pushing away the weight of societal expectations. “Look at us. We were forced to marry because someone said it’s not good for man to be alone.”

“Are you tarnishing the holy word, Friedrich?” You teased, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. He uncrossed his legs, relaxing beside you, his posture loose.

“I think I’m not punished more than we are in this situation,” he laughed again, the sound genuine and unconstrained, a rare, welcoming laugh that echoed melodically, breaking the last traces of tension between you.

“We still broke the wedding night rule,” you reminded him, and he threw his head back in a hearty laugh.

“My God, we’re a lost cause,” he chuckled, but the laughter soon softened, fading as he turned to look at you, trying to calm his amusement.

There was something captivating in the way he seemed to reflect on the moment, a mix of enjoyment and resignation. With a nearly imperceptible movement, he tilted his head to the side, distracted, then pulled out his pocket watch. The gesture marked the end of the lightness in the conversation.

“I fear it’s time for me to attend to business,” he interrupted, his tone turning more sober.

“Of course,” you replied, standing up at the same time he did, the tension between you both dissipating as you shared one last light smile.

However, noticing that he had briefly watched you, you couldn't resist offering a small, mocking bow, one that escaped you almost without thought. He caught the gesture, and for a moment, his smile curved just slightly, a polite expression that nonetheless betrayed a shared intimacy between you.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he promised, his words carrying a promise of something unsaid, something suspended, waiting for the right moment to be picked up again.

Even in his haste, he accompanied her to the hall. What once seemed like a simple, everyday obligation had now transformed into a silent ritual, almost a shared pleasure between them. As if fate were playing with its invisible threads, their marriage had occurred at the end of winter—an understated departure of the season’s chill, while spring began to make its first tentative steps, blossoming alongside hearts now beating in sync.

The scent of roses lingered in the air, reminding her of the bottles Friedrich would gift her from time to time—subtle gestures that concealed more than mere intentions. A soft breeze wound its way through the house, reviving memories of his elegant presence, lifting the curtains in an ethereal dance, sweeping away the dust, and bringing a refreshing coolness to every room.

Then came summer, and with it, the sun’s awakened rays poured life into what had once seemed faded. Morning conversations, filled with musings on the weather or trivial matters, filled the emptiness of a new day. In the afternoon, their exchanges became sharper, commenting on the neighbors and the townspeople who fancied themselves important, yet were, as he put it, "clowns dressed in finery." In the evenings, conversations grew rarer, more spaced out—not just due to the fatigue they both felt, but because of the weight carried by the “unsaid.”

Even though they were married before God and the law, invisible barriers still separated them. But in the rare moments they sat together after dinner, those moments felt almost precious—revealing a little more of the inner worlds hidden behind the curtains of formality.

As days passed, summer slowly gave way to the melancholy of autumn. The golden glow of warm days was replaced by a softer, almost nostalgic light that painted the afternoons in shades of amber and crimson. The wind, once a messenger of warmth and life, now blew with a distinct coolness, carrying the earthy aroma of dried leaves that gathered along the paths.

The house, once flooded with vibrant sunlight, now seemed to be wrapped in a cozy shadow. The curtains no longer danced so freely, weighed down by the thicker air of the season. Friedrich, always attentive to the subtle changes around him, watched time shape every corner with its unshakable patience. The silence of autumn was not empty; it was filled with meaning—a quiet invitation to introspection, a harbinger of something new.

The garden, once a sea of vibrant colors, had now transformed into a mosaic of orange leaves drifting from the branches like unsent letters to the wind. The last rosebuds held firm, defying the growing cold, as though refusing to accept that everything must, eventually, wither. It was a season of transition, of fleeting beauty. And, in some way, it mirrored the silent shift that was settling between them.

“You know, from the first time I saw you, I felt like I could trust you,” he confessed, his voice low but steady. As he took a draw from his cigar, he exhaled the smoke with a deliberate movement, as if releasing more than just tobacco. His free arm was lazily draped over the divan, fingers almost brushing against her clavicle, but not quite making contact—just grazing her skin in the subtlest of gestures, as if the touch was unnecessary, yet still undeniably present in the space between them.

“At the church?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. He slowly rotated his eyes to meet yours, his head slightly tilted, watching your face with an expression that could have been contemplative, though, at its core, remained inscrutable. It was as though his mystery deepened with each word spoken.

“In the garden,” he answered, pausing again to take another puff from the cigar, his eyes focused on the horizon, searching for something invisible in the landscape. When he exhaled the smoke, it moved slowly, almost poetically, as if his words were still being shaped. “When you made the agreement. You were firm. You knew what you wanted. I admire that. Strong, determined people.”

“Do you think I’m strong?” You asked, your voice softer now, a trace of curiosity slipping into the words. It wasn’t a rhetorical question, but a genuine uncertainty. Your eyes met his, waiting for an answer that might reveal more about him than about yourself.

“Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen,” he replied, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. The world could have fallen apart around them, but in that moment, on that divan, there were only the two of them, as though nothing else mattered.

As always between them, emotions and glances didn’t need words to communicate. It was a mutual, silent understanding—the kind of connection only those who share a bond so complex can truly grasp. What they both needed in that moment was simple: touch. Warmth. Something physical and pure, the reminder of what it meant to be near, to be present. Friedrich pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was brief yet intense, pulling away slowly, as though making sure you wouldn’t pull back, that you were there, willing to allow it.

It had been so long since he had touched anyone, and neither had you. As if, for a moment, you both had forgotten the softness of human touch, the way bodies recognize each other when they are close. He absently crushed his cigar in the ashtray, his focus now completely on you. Nothing else mattered.

Slowly, he brought his hand to your face. First, his fingers slid gently over the texture of your skin, as if every millimeter was a discovery. His eyes were fixed on you, not just any look, but a deeply attentive look, as if he were memorizing every detail. When the palm of his hand met your cheek, the fit was perfect, as if your faces had been made to touch this way. He stood there for a few moments, just watching, his fingers tracing a delicate path across your lip with his thumb. A gesture that, although simple, carried immense meaning. He was with you, entirely.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” The question came naturally, without haste, without expectation. It wasn't a simple rhetorical question, it was something genuine. Something he wanted to know.

The silence that followed was an implicit answer. You watched him for a moment, almost as if you were reflecting on the weight of those words, and then, as if confessing a secret you had kept, you answered:

“Maybe never like this.”

“You are beautiful.” He repeated, as if those words were the key that fit perfectly into your heart, as if he knew you needed to hear them in a way no one had said before. “Can I show you that?”

With the soft touch of your hand on his, you asked for more, without saying a word, but the request was there, clear and transparent. Consent. Desire. Begging. He noticed, and the answer was immediate. He leaned in once more, his lips meeting yours in a hesitant kiss, but not without intensity. It was as if the world dissolved even more in that moment.

It was just a brush. A soft touch, as if the very air between you was impregnated with something sweet and ancient. You could feel the softness of his skin, the faint scent of nicotine that still lingered on his fingers, the trace of expensive cognac, the kind of drink he kept in his library for special occasions, and even the delicate scent of strawberries, which mixed with the sensation of his touch. It was a mess of gastronomic and artistic sensations that you longed for, something sublime and complex, where each detail seemed like a fragment of something that, perhaps, had never been fully understood until that moment.

"Stay with me, Friedrich." Your voice came out weak, a whisper laden with pleading, dissipating in the thick silence of the room. The only immediate response was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, soft clicks that seemed to mark the time between each of his breaths, warm and deep, brushing against your skin. "Stay with me until sunrise. Just for tonight." An indecipherable gleam passed through Friedrich's eyes, as if this was the prayer he had been waiting to hear for centuries. A slow smile formed on his lips before he tilted his face towards you.

"How can I refuse you, my dear?" The answer came in a low, intimate whisper, as his lips traced a reverent path across your face. First, a delicate kiss on your forehead, then on your temples, as if he wanted to engrave you in his memory.

He moved down to your cheeks, his lips brushing your skin in an almost imperceptible touch, warm and devoted. Your chin, the tip of your nose — every inch was graced with his attention. It was a silent blessing, a profane sacrament sealing a bond forgotten by time. Then, Friedrich closed the distance between you. His lips took yours with precision, without hesitation. The kiss was neither hurried nor voracious — it was a wordless oath. There was no sarcasm, no ghosts from the outside world. Just that moment, charged with something greater than the two of you. Love or not, there was an uncontrollable impetus there, something unforgettable. 

Friedrich's fingers slid along your jaw, slowly rising until they intertwined in your hair, tugging lightly, as if he wanted to keep you from disappearing. In response, your hands sought his, groping until they found them, fitting your fingers with his. The touch was cold, but not unpleasant; on the contrary, it felt like the anchor of something much deeper. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes half closed, his breathing ragged. The fire in the fireplace cast shadows on the walls, dancing to the rhythm of the growing desire between you.

"Until sunrise," he murmured against your mouth, almost a promise. "All night."

Friedrich stood up with his usual elegance, extending his hand to you. Your fingers gently wrapped around his, and in an almost ceremonial gesture, he lifted you, guiding you with a care that made it seem as if time slowed down around you. Like a prince leading his maiden through an enchanted castle, Friedrich led you to his room—a previously unknown territory that you had only glimpsed in passing, always disorganized, with books piled haphazardly and traces of sleepless nights.

But now, everything seemed different. There was an unexpected order to the usual chaos, as if he had prepared the environment for this moment. The furniture was impeccably arranged, the curtains slightly open, letting the pale moonlight fall on the sheets. His familiar scent permeated the space, a mixture of stale tobacco and the woody aroma that always lingered on his clothes.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Friedrich turned the key in the lock, a discreet click echoing in the silence of the room. A simple gesture, but one that carried an invisible weight—he didn't want to be interrupted, not now.

"I prefer our night to be comfortable for you." He communicated, approaching, his steps calm but full of intention.

His gaze was a veiled invitation, a wordless promise. When his lips touched her face, it was not a hurried kiss, but an intimate mapping of her skin. He kissed her forehead as if consecrating that moment, her temples like a devotee in prayer. The line of her jaw, the curve of your cheek, every inch explored as if it were a rediscovery.

Nine long months without being touched by him, adding to the tally the months in which your husband had not touched you. You thought you had forgotten what it was like to be kissed. But the moment Friedrich’s lips met yours, all the dormant memories came back to life—not as distant memories, but as something as vivid as the warmth of his body against yours.

“Touch me.” You asked, sincerely. Need gave no room for shame at that moment. You needed to be touched by him.

“Anything you want.” His hoarse voice came out like a sinful whisper against your face.

Friedrich took a step back, then, walking behind you, he began to pull the lace of your dress with a mastery that you knew where it came from. But, at that moment, it was as if it were only yours. With precise speed, you felt the thin and expensive fabric, every penny intentionally bought by Friedrich, falling to the floor, with any other old rag that you forgot after a long time, leaving only the small nightgown and the corset underneath, which was also untied by him, allowing your muscles to relax again.

You turned your ankles, meeting Friedrich’s hungry gaze on your body covered only by the thin cotton with carefully embroidered lace on the sleeves. You moistened your lips, bringing your hands to your hair. Your fingers began to remove the pins, your perfect hairstyle falling apart, your long strands falling down your spine like a colorful waterfall. 

Friedrich felt a fleeting tremor in his vision, Anna’s memory mixing with his own in his head. No. He murmured, no. You could never be her. Not even if you tried in a million years. But there was something about you that pulled him back like a magnet. You stepped forward, giving him a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Anna would never do that.” He murmured, not sure how this would affect you or himself, trying to explain himself. “She was always so chaste, so reserved, so… pure. Even when I touched her. But you— I feel like a boy playing too close to a lake, where I fall in and never want to get out again.” 

“What’s in that lake?” You asked, reaching your brave hands for Friedrich’s vest, each button being unbuttoned faster with the courage inside you. 

“So many things. So much… life.” He paused, his gaze so distant, yet so present in that moment, alternating between which of your eyes he should look at. “It’s enchanting. There are so many fish, frogs, mud where I slip, but I always come back for more. And in this lake it rains, so hard. God.”

“Are you cold?” You encouraged, Friedrich helping you, putting the vest over your arms and taking off your shirt in just one pass over your head.

“I am.” He says, closing his eyes to one of your hands, cold from the night air, touching his neck, the other lazily in his strong arms. “I never want to leave here. I want to be trapped in this moment forever.”

It was your turn to be silent, swallowing hard at the confession between Friedrich’s eloquent lines. Noticing your hesitation, his strong hand took yours and placed it on your chest. Your hand feeling the strong and accelerated beating in his chest, you were causing this.

Intertwining his hand with yours, his other hand went to your waist, holding you as he guided your steps to the bed, where you lay right in the middle of the huge mattress. Friedrich put his fingers in the waistband of your pants, pulling them down, recording the memory of you, so delicate, but so honest and brave in that bed. It didn't seem like you were going to be devoured like a little lamb, but that he knew you would give pleasure and be pleased, like a nymph.

Friedrich crawled across the bed until he was on top of you, supporting himself on one arm, the other hand easily unbuttoning your nightgown, your beauty being served to him. With a gentle touch, he groped your breasts, rolling the small spot with his thumb, admiring the view.

“I had forgotten this feeling.” He commented, lifting your breast, palming it, squeezing it, like a boy discovering the female body for the first time. “It feels so good.”

You nodded, enjoying the moment, glimpsing every admirable reaction Friedrich had in that part of your body. He kissed both your breasts, moving down with kisses to your exposed sex, inhaling your essence.

“What’re you gonna do?” You asked, closing your legs instinctively, a touch of fear laced with desire in your voice.

“Have you never been touched like this?” He asked, surprised by your desperate reaction, opening your legs and doing his best not to embarrass you by facing your intimacy.

“No.” You confessed, without even knowing what he planned to do. There were hypotheses, but the ideas that went through your mind were hot, but they didn’t make sense.

“Can I show you?” He suggested, wetting his lips with his tongue in anticipation. You nodded, reluctantly opening your legs.

Friedrich took a deep breath before lowering his head, kissing the inside of your thigh. He sucked a small part of your skin, going down with small bites to your groin, where he placed a small kiss that made you shiver.

When he licked your pearl, you understood the surprise in his eyes. That was heavenly good. Your fingers went to Friedrich’s head, pulling his hair as a way to dissipate the pleasure that was growing between your legs.

His tongue licked your sex, pressing harder to hear your louder moans, switching to small, weak licks to turn you inside out. His large hands were firmly on your thighs, keeping you in place as he sucked on your sensitive spot with precision.

Lifting your head to look down, you saw Friedrich with his eyes closed, concentrating. The scene was stimulating enough to feel the pressure building in your stomach. Hearing your needy moans, he ended up licking faster and faster with more pressure. The tremors indicated that you were close and he focused only on your clit, punishing the flesh with his tongue fast and strong in sinful circles until he felt you collapse into his mouth with one last loud moan, lifting your hips against his mouth.

Not wanting to push you to the limit right away, he lifted his body, returning to be on top and kissing you, the taste of your pleasure mixing on his lips. He lowered his lower part, showing his ugly cock that was throbbing hard against your belly, smearing your skin with pre-cum.

“Ready?” He asked, wiping the cloth down your legs and throwing it on the floor.

“Yes.” You confirmed, watching Friedrich grab one of the pillows and place it under your hips, which you lifted to help him.

Guiding his cock to your saliva-soaked and aroused intimacy, he pressed the tip against your entrance, showing a small reaction of discomfort before pleasure took over your face when you felt the length entering your canal, stretching your walls.

His hips began to move, slowly at first, so that you could get used to the recent intrusion after so long. When you were already showing pleasure, the rhythm became frantic, almost merciless. He murmured sweet nothings in your ear, not hiding any sound, and it drove you insane. You wanted everything from him, the sounds, the contorted expressions of pleasure, every thrust he changed the rhythm of, every compliment and disgrace he whispered. All of him.

In a short time, he melted inside you, loving you to the last drop, a hint of pride for having made you arrive before him, kissing your mouth to finish you off, leaning his forehead against yours, his breathing calming down.

He stood up, holding your hand firmly but unhurriedly, guiding you to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror revealed the marks of the night—sweat, tears and fluids, strands of disheveled hair. Friedrich smiled sideways, an almost complicit glint in his eyes, before taking a damp cloth and starting to clean you.

His every gesture was calm, almost ritualistic. He gently wiped the cloth over your face, removing traces of intimacy, his fingers brushing your skin with a caress that made your heart slow down. When he wiped your collarbone, he took a second longer than necessary, as if he were memorizing the touch. When he passed it through your hands, he intertwined his fingers with yours for a brief moment, before continuing.

The world outside was slowly waking up. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the curtain, dyeing the room with soft golden tones. The air still carried a remnant of the night—of whispered promises, of something unnameable that hovered between you.

But then, something sour settled in your mouth. A bitter taste, an inevitable memory. You looked away from Friedrich, the echoes of the previous promise resonating in your mind. Until dawn.

"I... I think I should go." Your voice came out hesitant, almost trembling. You turned your back, preparing to leave, but before you could take another step, you felt a firm tug. 

Friedrich wrapped you in an intense, almost desperate hug. His body was a wall against which you snuggled without resistance, feeling his heat pass through your skin. Friedrich's breathing was heavy against your hair, and his fingers, once so careful, now tangled possessively in the strands, as if he wanted to hold you there, forever.

"Never leave my side again." The whisper was filled with something primal, something he didn't usually express. "It's an order. The only one I give you." He inclined his head, his lips brushing your temple, the touch as gentle as a shared secret. "I will make you happy in your marriage. I will make you create good memories, I will be your anchor, your wine, your pleasure." 

You lifted your face, your eyes searching his, and then you moved closer, placing your lips on his bare chest, right over the place where his heart beat slow and deep. Friedrich's breathing faltered for a moment, and you let yourself sink against him, listening to that steady rhythm, like a melody that only the two of you understood. 

"I'm already yours, Friedrich." You whispered, filled with certainty. You closed your eyes, resting your head against him. "And I will be yours until the end of my life, living every sunrise by your side."

[little-diable]

Too Sweet - Dean Winchester (smut)

Of course I had to write something with one of Hozier's new songs. We aren't surprised, are we? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are stuck in a back-and-forth they can't escape from, until his jealousy manages to push her away from him. But Dean won't let her go, he just won't.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, some jealousy/possessiveness, quite fluffy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

It can't be said I'm an early bird, it’s 10 o'clock before I say a word, baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

“Dean, c’mon! We have to go.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the Bunker, hands pressed to her sides as she called for the older Winchester brother. Annoyance was flushing through her system, already fed up with Dean not managing to get up on time, already fed up with how he went against everything she told him. “If you don’t get up, I’ll kill you in your–”

The door to his room was pushed open before (y/n) could finish her sentence, eyes staring at Dean. He wore his signature smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest to study her as he leaned against the door frame. 

“You will kill me where?” His voice still had the morning rasp to it that left her thighs trembling, unable to say something as Dean reached for her, pulling (y/n) flush against him. Her breath hitched in her chest, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if she had just finished fighting a supernatural being. “Speak when you’re asked to.”

“Fuck you!” She ripped herself free as Dean’s loud laughter clawed through him, high on the feeling of (y/n) pressed against him. Heat flushed through her as she turned from him, putting some distance between her and Dean before he could taunt her some more. 

For years, the two had been stuck in the same circle, a back and forth that never crossed any lines, just filled with teasing, bickering, and some unspoken heartbreak whenever one of them took somebody else to bed. A circle both desperately wanted to escape from, a circle both hated more than words could express, a circle neither of them managed to speak of to the other.

……

You keep tellin' me to live right, to go to bed before th​​e daylight, but then you wake up for the sunrise, you know you don't gotta pretend

She had her eyes focused on Dean, how he was leaning against the bar with a beer in his hand, with his eyes focused on the blonde woman standing close to him. Anger was flushing through (y/n)’s veins, wondering if he simply wanted to taint her, to annoy her some more after a day filled with bickering, or if he was genuinely interested in the woman who looked like all others he had chatted up in the past weeks. 

“You look lonely.” A voice spoke up, forcing her out of her thoughts. (Y/n)’s gaze found the dark eyes of a man standing close to her. For a second, she wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave her alone, but knowing that she was desperate for any kind of distraction guided her words right out of her mouth. 

“Seems like it.” He sat down next to her, and let his eyes wander over her features, while (y/n) managed to look back at Dean once again. She almost choked on her sip of beer as she found him staring at her from the bar, lips pulled into a thin line, jaw muscles ticking in anger. “What’s your name?”

“Mike, and yours?” A smile began to widen on (y/n)’s lips, urged on by the feeling of Dean’s intense gaze, knowing that he now felt the same annoyance she had felt only moments ago. (Y/n) murmured her name, but no further word managed to leave her. 

She felt him before she saw him, with goosebumps rising on her skin, with her breaths growing shallow, with her mind and her heart racing. Dean came to a halt next to (y/n), staring at Mike before his dark green eyes found hers. Without speaking another word, he cupped her cheek, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

The kiss was over before she could begin to freak out, not sparing Mike, who left the two without another word, a thought. Neither Dean nor (y/n) spoke up, wide eyes staring at one another as both began to realise that they had just shared their first kiss. 

“What the fuck, Dean?” She gave him a push away, reached for her jacket and pushed past Dean before he could say something. For years she had waited for a kiss, needing to feel his lips pressed against hers, imagining feeling him close. But now, as it had happened because Dean had tried to prove something to himself and perhaps to her, she couldn’t find any enjoyment in it.

The cold night clashed against her warm face, she tried to blink her angry tears away as he called her name, catching up with (y/n) within seconds. Dean’s hand clamped down on her wrist, forcing (y/n) to a sudden halt.

“How dare you?” (Y/n) spat her words as she ripped her hand from Dean's grasp, wrapping her arms around her middle as if she were hugging herself. There was something swimming in his pupils, something that tightened her throat, that made her mouth feel dry. 

“Why are you so angry?” A scoff clawed through her, a sound so angry that Dean was close to taking a step away from her, close to flinching. For a few moments, all they did was stare at one another, eyes not daring to break contact, even as her tears resurfaced, blurring (y/n)’s vision. 

“For years I wait for you to kiss me. For years I had to watch you chat up some women who weren't me. And then you kiss me to prove some fucked up point? You kiss me to push away a man who showed some form of interest in me. And for what? For what Dean?” Her words worked like a slap, forcing him to quiet down. (Y/n) turned from him again, she began walking, took about five steps before she came to another halt. “I don’t want to see you again for a while, you can work the case on your own.” 

And for the first time since knowing Dean, she hoped that he’d chase her, that he’d force her to give in. But he didn’t, all he did was stare at her, and watch her leave. 

……

I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me

“(Y/n)?” Dean’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing her eyes from her book. It had been days since they had returned from their last hunt, forced to share an uncomfortable, quiet drive home. Ever since they had returned, they hadn’t spoken, (y/n) had kept her distance, and Dean had somehow disappeared, no longer crossing paths with her. “Can I come in?”

The hum leaving her urged Dean to step into her room. Their eyes were drawn to one another like magnets, leaving her trembling as she closed her book. Slowly Dean walked towards (y/n), sitting down next to her to pull her against his chest before she could pull away. 

“I have been stupid, so fucking stupid. Ever since I met you, I knew that I needed you, wanted you, but fuck, I knew that it was a dangerous game, and losing you was too high of a price. Seeing you with that guy did something to me, I don’t even know what. I shouldn’t have kissed you, at least not like that.” She shuffled around in Dean’s grasp, cheek no longer pressed to his chest, though eyes now fully directed at his face. “I wanted to give you time, but staying away from you is something I can’t do, something I don’t want to do.” 

“I wish you would have kissed me sooner, or in some other situation. You had no right to act like that when you’re the one talking to other women no matter where we go, Dean.” The hum leaving him drew a sigh from (y/n). Wordlessly she placed her head back down on his chest, letting the seconds blur by as he got lost in his thoughts. 

“Can I have another chance to make things right?” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her eyes back towards his again. All she did was nod her head, watching him dip down to softly kiss her. No longer did she feel the same anger, no longer was she annoyed at him for treating her like that, no, she was now solemnly focused on the feeling of his lips moving against hers. 

Dean pulled her into his lap without breaking the kiss, leaving both to hiss as she ground her middle against his. Their hands did impatient work, tugging on one another’s shirts, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes. He ripped her bra from her frame, tongue finding her left nipple as his hand worked on the other, high on the sounds wrecking through (y/n). 

“This is even better than I imagined.” She wanted to comment on the fact that he had seemingly imagined a situation like this, she wanted to tell Dean that she had been held hostage by the same thoughts, but she couldn’t. (Y/n) felt his hardening cock press against her core, urged on by her need for friction. “I can’t wait to fuck you, to show you how you’ll always be mine.”

“Forever.” The single word rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left Dean groaning, flipping them around to pull her trousers from her trembling legs, panties following. His darkening eyes wandered up and down her frame while he undressed, exposing his hard cock to her hungry eyes, leaving (y/n) breathless. 

Dean spoke no other warning as he buried his face between her thighs, lapping at her arousal-covered folds, desperate to taste her. Curses rumbled through the both of them while (y/n) was high on the feeling of Dean’s tongue pushing her closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of his thumb circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to leave her gasping. Dean found himself addicted to her taste, to her sounds, to the way she trembled for him only. 

“This is better than heaven, fuck, I’ll do that daily from now on.” He murmured his words against her warm skin, leaving the spots trembling as he let his gaze flicker up to her pleasure-drunken features. One of her hands found his, interlacing their fingers to squeeze his hand, telling him she was all too close. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” (Y/n) came with a call of his name, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. Dean was close to reaching for his phone to film every passing second for him to watch whenever he’d be away from her. But the sight of her orgasm wrecking through her was enough to leave him frozen to the spot. 

“Dean,” (y/n) panted his name, slowly opening her eyes to stare at him. “I need you to fuck me, I can’t wait any longer.” 

Within seconds, he had them repositioned, with (y/n) back in his lap, holding onto his shoulders. He rolled a condom down his twitching cock while (y/n) caught her breath, preparing herself for another intense orgasm. Dean’s hands held her waist as she sunk down on him, foreheads pressed together to adjust, to grasp onto the sensation. 

“Oh god, Dean, you’re so big.” Her walls fluttered around him, trying to get used to his size, to the feeling of him stretching her. Dean’s raspy chuckles guided her on, urging her to move, to rock her hips against his. He supported her every movement, stabilising her as she rode him. Their sounds grew louder, more passionate as they took what they were aching for, clinging to one another like boats rocking ashore. 

He’d forever be her lighthouse, the guiding force she’d search for in times of need, while she was the boat sailing him home, allowing him to be the truest form of himself. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Dean’s praises shot heat through her, forcing her fingernails into his shoulders to cling to him, trying not to pay the ache in her thighs too much of her attention. But Dean seemed to pick up on it, giving her a slight push away to force her down on the mattress. 

With their eyes holding contact he pushed back into her, groaning at the feeling. Dean fucked her as if the devil was chasing him, begging them to give in before he could get his grasp on the two lovers. Their moans ripped through them, telling them that they were close, oh so close. 

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock.” Her fingers blindly followed his command, circling her clit to push her over the edge. (Y/n) choked on Dean’s name as she came, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin to leave behind marks that wouldn’t fade for days. Dean gave it a few more thrusts before he gave in, letting go with a groan that made her clench around him once again. 

“I don’t think it’s ever been this intense for me.” (Y/n)’s confession left Dean chuckling, he parted from her to press a kiss to her lips, eyes searching hers for a second. He threw the condom away before he returned to her bed, wrapping (y/n) in his arms with his eyes glued to hers. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, it had never been like that for me as well.” 

 I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒔

𝑶𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔!𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. Mutual feelings, fluff, smut, passionate sex, unprotected sex, unspecified age gap, tiny somnophilia if you squint, etc. beware.

divider by the talented @anitalenia 🎀

𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

“Mmm.. I love you..” you whisper softly, dropping him off at work. The men laughed and whistled as Logan returned the words giving you the warmest and softest smiles. You blush driving away waving him off preparing yourself to miss him all day at the farm.

Lumberjack.. that was his job for months now. It paid well just as much your farm did. You had perfect lives together, ever since you found him in your barn hiding. He surprised you not just because he was naked but because he wasn’t just an ordinary man. Your relationship bloomed.. you were in love and you swore that you loved him more each day. You didn’t expect to find a man of your dreams, but he found you first.

“Need some help?” Lo approaches you from behind coiling his arms around you as you prepared dinner. You smiled softly “Of course my love..but first you have to wash your hands for me.” He chuckled at your words pecking your lips “Yes Ma’am as you wish” biting your lower lip you squeezed his butt when he was leaving to the bathroom. After filling dinner, you sat outside– the animals were quiet, the forest too.. but the moon lighted the sky. Giving you a breathtaking view. “C’here my lady..” Lo pulls you to straddle his lap gazing at you in the most loving way, making your heart race.

“I’m scared to lose you one day..” you whispered kissing his bearded cheek loving the feeling of his massive arms around you. “Mmm.. I’m planning to stay here with my love.” He hummed in response resting his cheek on your breasts looking up at the moon above the trees. “Please don’t leave me..” a wave of emotions overwhelmed you, the urge to snuggle close to him. He snuggled you close, granting you the wish kissing your forehead. “I love you–” you whisper rubbing his back trailing your fingers under his flannel shirt to feel the warmth of his skin of his shoulders. “And I love you, so much princess” his words fluttered your heart. You stayed outside on his lap until you fell asleep in his arms, Logan cupped your cheek as he observed your face. Thumb softly caressing your warm flesh eyes filled with nothing but love. For a while.. he thought he could leave you but his heart didn’t let him just shortly after you found him at the barn. It was fateful wasn’t it? Carrying you inside the house placing you in the bed tucking you in– Logan let you rest. You needed it more than he did. After showering, dressing he walked out the house lighting a cigar. He had that constant feeling in his chest, that danger was coming. You weren’t safe.. he was all day gone working. You stayed here on the farm taking care of it, working too. What if he wasn’t fast enough to get to you? Looking at his hand, his claws grew out the adamantium shimmering under the moonlight.

Sunrise barely touched the window, and his mouth was on your shoulder. His large hand touching your belly slowly turning you on your back before climbing between your thighs. Your arms hung around his shoulders as you hummed feeling him on top of you. “Mornin princess..” he whispered in your ear, before you felt him sliding inside of you. You mewled at his thick cock filling you out. “Mmm!!” Parting your lips on his shoulder you clung to him letting out lines of whimpers and moans “slept well huh? been warming you in my arms all night” he cooed snapping his hips into you waking you up. You moaned loudly touching his hair running your fingers through it as your small body jolted beneath him. “Love you..” you gasped “love you too princess.. fuck” lo breathed sliding his naked arms under your shoulders speeding up his thrusts pounding into you. “Couldn’t wait..- pussy been wet all night makin’ my cock ache” he moaned kissing your cheek parting his lips as he quickly filled you fucking into you. The familiar heat in your belly got stronger and stronger your legs coiling around his hips as you bit his shoulder letting out lines of curses and whimpers “love you too baby..” he gripped the back of your head smashing his mouth against yours needing all of you. His kiss tasted of lust, love and want. Accepting his tongue, you both moaned in each other’s mouths moving together in sync as you chased your highs. Lo pulled away to groan hungrily burying his face between your bouncing breasts his claws shooting out digging into the mattress bellow the pillows the moment you started to orgasm. You trembled, screaming his name as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. His pace was so quick, so good, almost hard and rough but all out of love. Need. Pure ecstasy. “Ughh..” he breathed holding you tightly in his arms as you choked his cock deeply inside of you making him cum just as hard. The swollen tip spurting out hot streams of load in your heat. He slumped on top of you, moaning as your lips met again in passionate kiss shoving his cock deeply inside of you making you whimper out cupping his cheek. The other hand held fistful of his mane.

mornings like this.. were your favourite.

-

(any mistakes, typos, I apologise in advance!)

[teaspoontarot]

Pick A Card: What Will The New Year Bring?

Pick a pile 1-4!

These messages are meant to sweeten your day and add a teaspoon of fun! You will always know yourself and your situation the best, therefore everything written here is just to give you a little nudge or to add a little sweetness!

🍵 Teaspoon

Pile 1 💫

Back in business! This past year has had its ups and downs especially regarding the home or close friends. Possibly involving rumor or gossip that has caused tension and pain. You’ve opened the windows and let the air blow through so anything that didn’t need to stay has found its way out.This year you’re focusing on the practical side of life. The turning of a new leaf 🍃.

You’ve been honest with yourself and others and now you’re moving on! You’re no longer waiting for someone to join you in your life and are now focused on just enjoying the ride as it comes. Good tidings and joy for this new year, a more relaxed (or enjoyable) roller-coaster than the one you just got off of. This year isn’t so much about slowing down but more so appreciating how far you’ve come.

There’s still a lot left to do but from where you’re standing the view already looks pretty great. You’re putting down new roots and making a name for yourself!

The new year brings stability and foundation. A new business venture or recognition. A rise in self-esteem and better communication. Joy to be found in the unlikeliest of places.

Tarot Card For The Year Ahead

Two of Swords ⚔️

“Aim for a meeting of minds, for your mutual interest…working on trust and knowing when to trust a hunch”

Affirmations

“When I Think I’ve Surrendered, I Surrender More”

“I Speak Positively of Others”

“I Spread Joy”

Pile 2 ✨

Healing, healing, healing. Learning to forgive yourself and to love yourself with grace. There’s someone you’ve walked away from and the pain still stings. You’ve been stabbed in the side and still hoped that it was simply an accident.

You want to love and cherish so much that you feel a bit silly. Maybe you feel like you need to force yourself back to reality or that what you want simply isn’t for you. This is gentle reminding you that whatever happened does not mean the end. Very rarely is the world so black and white, and frequently things that are broken can be healed or find a new space in the world.

Do not be harsher on yourself than you would be to somebody else. You don’t have to always rise above it all, sometimes it’s nice to rest and find a place to sleep. Stormy waters do not make stronger swimmers, just more tired one. You may feel like you’ve been drowning for years and you’ve only been able to find stray driftwood to cling onto. You will find land, and it will feel strange but good. You’ve swam for so long it feels odd to rest. Forgive yourself for the rest you need. The help will fill it’s way to you.

Your new year brings much needed space, healing, and little discomfort but ultimately what is needed to find stability and foundation.

Tarot Card For The Year Ahead

Ace of Cups 💘

"The start of something wonderful: a taste of whatever is your Holy Grail”

Affirmations

“I Find Deeper Meaning, And Personal Growth Amid The Discomfort”

“I Am Forgiving”

Pile 3🎆

Dreams coming true! You’ve been focused and have faced obstacles you never thought you could get over. Now comes the easy part! Be excited and gracious as this new year rings in. The times when you were honest even though it scared you are pushing you forward.

Honesty does not have to be cruel, it can be sweet and show truth warmth for yourself and others. You’re finding the people who understand you the most and the goals you’ve carried on your back for so long you have finally found space for them.

You’ve climbed the mountain with a heavy burden and now it is time to enjoy the sunrise! Take a seat, have a drink of your choice and share a laugh.

The new year is all about joy, friends, family and an appreciation of what it took to get there. People have your back and you have theirs, true partnership! Love surrounds you in the new year! Enjoy it!

Tarot For The Year Ahead

Ten of Swords 🌠

“The battle has been won! Expect a hug release of pent-up energy in your heart and body”

Three of Swords 🌟

“You have the opportunity to establish the contract. Be fair in your arrangements”

Eight of Pentacles🌹

“A regular and reliable arrangement or resource: sometimes we just want someone who can comfortably deliver”

Affirmations

“My Energy Creates My Reality. What I Focus On Is What I Will Manifest”

“I Do Good”

Pile 4🌸

Everything that you're wanting is waiting for you but you have to let go of someone or something. This is the year of transformation or renewal. Spring is coming and it wants to invite you in with open arms. Let yourself bloom as you need to.

You are being asked to take a little more control in the matters that may be impacting you. There may be a hard conversation you will have to have with yourself about what you truly want. You have to be honest with yourself. There’s an open door waiting for you but you fear walking through it and worry about the consequences of such an action. A slight feeling of indecision but you already know the answer, it’s the moving forward that is scary.

There are people that will meet you on the other side, and there are others rooting for you to take that first step. Like baby bird trying to crack open it’s shell. The world is awaiting you, in all of it’s harsh beauty. Staying where you are will lead to discontent.

The new year bring you discomfort, but truth and the power to push forward.

Tarot For The Year Ahead

The Awakening🎊

“Accept a unique opportunity. Allow yourself to be overwhelmed. Make a liberating change in your worldview”

Seven of Pentacles✈️

“Don’t overthink a situation that simply needs to run its course”

The Hanged One🚞

“Be aware of an uncomfortable limbo. Being stuck in role”

Affirmations

“I Am The Dreamer of My Dream”

“I Consume Only My Fair Share”

“I Hold Purity In High Esteem”

“I Regard All Altars With Respect”

[lazysoulwriter]

Smoke and Screens - Paul Mescal.

I’ve been getting some messages from you saying you wanted longer fics. So here’s my first attempt! Please let me know if you enjoyed it!

----

The small, cozy apartment smelled faintly of lavender and popcorn. A warm glow from a string of fairy lights curled around the room, complementing the flicker of candles on the coffee table.

“I can’t believe it’s been this long,” Paul said as he leaned against the kitchen counter, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn cradled in one hand. He wore a loose white T-shirt and sweatpants that screamed comfort. “We used to do this every month.”

You laughed, sprawling out on the sofa and hugging a cushion to your chest. “Every two weeks, actually. But who’s counting?”

He grinned, walking over and plopping down next to you. The cushions dipped under his weight, and the familiar scent of his cologne wafted over you—clean, with a hint of cedar. “It’s been… crazy lately. The press tours, the shoots. I missed this, though. Us.”

You nodded, a pang of nostalgia tugging at your heart. You and Paul had been friends for years, long before his career skyrocketed. These movie nights had been your thing—a sacred tradition where the outside world faded, leaving just the two of you, your shared love for cinema, and far too much junk food.

Tonight, the tradition was resurrected. He had arrived an hour earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder filled with snacks and DVDs. The sight of him standing at your doorstep had been enough to make your heart stutter. You had missed him more than you’d admitted, even to yourself.

“Okay, what’s first?” you asked, gesturing to the small stack of DVDs on the coffee table.

Paul picked up the top one and waved it at you. “Thought we’d start with an old favorite.”

Your eyes lit up. “No way. ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“You love it,” he said with a shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking into that signature smile of his.

“You love it,” you shot back, grabbing a handful of popcorn as the opening credits rolled.

Two movies later, the apartment had grown quieter. The popcorn bowl was empty, your legs were stretched out on Paul’s lap, and the comforting hum of the film filled the room. Paul’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your ankle, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of.

“Pause it for a sec,” you said suddenly, sitting up.

Paul arched an eyebrow but complied, grabbing the remote. “What’s up?”

You reached over to the side table and pulled out a small tin. Inside was a neatly rolled joint. “Remember this part of the tradition?”

Paul let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Ah, so you’ve been holding onto that one, huh?”

“For special occasions,” you said, winking.

He hesitated for only a moment before grinning. “Alright, light it up.”

The joint sparked to life in your hands, and soon, the smoky aroma filled the room. You took a deep drag before passing it to him. Paul leaned back, his head tilted against the sofa as he exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

“Man,” he said, letting out a low laugh. “This takes me back.”

You smiled, resting your head against the back of the couch. “To simpler times.”

“Simpler, yeah,” he agreed. Then, after a beat, “But not better. Things have been good. Busy, but good. Still, I’ve missed… this. You.”

Your gaze shifted to him, and for the first time that evening, the air between you felt charged. His eyes, soft and a little glassy from the weed, locked onto yours. You felt your heart race, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

“I’ve missed you too,” you said softly.

Paul’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in, so close you could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Can I?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded. And then his lips were on yours—gentle at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, his hand cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss. It was soft, intoxicating, and long overdue.

The joint, forgotten, burned out in the ashtray as Paul pulled you closer. His hands found your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, and the world outside ceased to exist. The movies, the popcorn, the years of friendship—all faded into the background. There was only Paul, his lips on yours, his breath mingling with yours, and the unspoken understanding that this was a turning point.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your faces flushed.

“Well,” Paul said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “That was unexpected.”

“Was it?” you teased, still catching your breath.

He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Maybe not.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. The night stretched ahead, full of possibilities, and for the first time in a long time, you felt perfectly content.

“So,” Paul said, his voice playful. “Do we finish the movie, or…?”

You grinned, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I think the movie can wait.”

----

I would never waste a joint like that, tbh. But it's Paul

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Sworn Protector

aegon x sister!wife!reader x the bloody ben we thought we got but we’re delusional 🫠

anniversary gift pt 2 but can be read alone!

Summary: Benjicot Blackwood is Aegon and yours sworn protector. He takes your protection and pleasure very seriously much to Alicent and Viserys dislike.

Warnings: 18+, graphic depiction of murder fr, blood, drinking, swearing, oral(m and f receiving), fingering, public, penetration(p in v), double penetration 🫣😮‍💨, honestly this whole fic is a warning idk what to say!!!!

Authors Note: “look at me, this isn’t you.” moment and honestly good for y/n, fucking the sworn protector is a family tradition apparently 🫣, no bc i’m enjoying writing this problematic throuple too much 🧎🏼‍���️, i may make one more part idk but it’s set up for that so we shall seeeeee

Word Count: 3.9k

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I jolt awake as I hear the relentless crack of bone and squelch of blood. Aegon is like a rock next to me refusing to wake or be bothered. I pull on one of his shirts and walk to the door to listen through. Metal slams into flesh repeatedly as I crack open the door and gasp at the scene before me.

“Ben?! Ben stop!” my balance wavers as I rip open the door and see the state of the man beneath him. “Benjicot Blackwood I said that’s enough!” I shout firmly and his bloodied fist halts, hoovering above the mans pulverized face.

“I’m sorry.” Ben turns to look at me as the man’s blood continues to cascade down his face.

Guards rush into the hall and stop abruptly taking in the scene. They look from me to Ben and then down to the unrecognizable body. Some of them put their hands on their sword pommels and before I can think I step in front of Ben protectively.

“Princess go back to your chambers and we will deal with this.” a guard holds his hands out in front of him slowly walking towards me.

“If you come closer to her you will be in the same state as this man here.” Ben spits as he rises and towers behind me.

“Enough,” I hiss out to him. Gods the one time I wish Aegon were actually awake to help me deal with something. “You all will see to it that this mess is cleaned up. Ser Benjicot was simply doing his duty and protecting Aegon and I. I’ll hear no more on this matter at this hour.” my voice unwavering hoping they’ll listen and heed my words.

“What happened that could lead to this?” a guard asks baffled, his face turning queasy.

“I intend to question him myself, along with Aegon, to get to the bottom of this. We shall speak on the morrow.” I toss over my shoulder pushing Ben into our chambers and sealing us shut behind the doors.

“What the fuck?” I push him harshly into open space of our chambers. “What the fuck was that?” I ask again throwing my hands in the air at a loss for words.

Ben says nothing and takes a seat in a chair as I fill up a glass with wine. I begin to light some candles around our chambers as it’s still hours before sunrise. I take a long sip and exhale deeply. I walk over to the bed and shake Aegon a little more roughly than needed.

“What is it?” Aegon pushes me off of him and rolls over.

“Get up. We have a situation.” I grit out through my teeth. “Ben just slaughtered a man outside of our chambers and I don’t know what to do.” Aegons eyes shoot open.

“What are you talking about?” he sits up and his eyes bulge as they land on Ben’s bloody face. “What the fuck?”

“Hey.” Ben smiles and offers us a small wave.

“What happened?” Aegon rises out of bed completely nude and takes a seat in a chair near Ben.

I refill my glass while pouring them each a cup of wine and bring it to them. I claim the couch and spread out. I cross my legs and take a sip of wine as I look to Ben expectantly for him to begin telling his story.

“Some cunt from the servant staff was walking the halls with his little cunt friends,” Ben’s voice starts to rise. “He started saying all it took to become the new sworn protector was to fuck you. He said he planned to walk into your chambers and take you as you were while Aegon slept beside you.” I can feel the rage radiating off of him in palpable waves.

“So you killed him? Brutally?” Aegon raises his eyebrows shaking his head in disbelief yet a smile begins to form on his lips.

“Yes.” Ben says nodding as if nothing is wrong with that answer

“Well at least we know you do a thorough job.” Aegon shrugs and sips his wine. “Shall we call you our sworn executioner now?” he smirks walking to the bathing chambers.

“Come, let us clean you up.” I hum offering Ben my hand.

Ben looks up to me as he grabs my hand. His gaze never leaves mine as he places a soft kiss on my forehead. I lead us over to Aegon who has a basin of water and a clean cloth. We have Ben sit as we begin to remove his bloody armor.

“Thank you for protecting me in the halls, although, it shouldn’t have come to that.” Ben looks to me as I begin wiping off his face.

“We all protect each other.” Aegon adds as he removes the last piece of Ben’s armor. “Truth be told, this will most likely be blamed on us anyway.” Aegons eyes look to mine.

“As long as Ben can stay I care not.” I say shrugging as I try to wipe dried blood off his brow.

“Agreed.” Aegon hums bringing a clean cloth to Ben’s neck to start wiping the blood from there.

We finish cleaning Ben in silence as he stares at the both of us with devotion. The pile of bloody armor is moved to the bath so it can be washed in the morning. Our hands begin to slowly undress Ben and lead him over to our bed.

“Thank you for protecting my wife.” Aegon hums helping Ben lay back on the bed. “Let me reward you.” his smile is devilish as he slowly begins to remove Ben’s underwear.

Once freed Ben’s cock bounces against his lower stomach as he stares at us with low lids. Aegon nestles himself between Ben’s thighs as I cuddle into Ben’s side. I turn Ben’s head to face mine and capture his lips into a heated kiss. Ben groans deeply into my mouth as Aegon licks him from base to tip.

“Shh, shh,” I whisper as I trail kisses down his jaw.

Aegon takes Ben fully in his mouth, accepting every inch until he reaches the base. Aegon begins to lift his head leaving trails of spit coating his member. Ben lets out a strangled whimper as Aegon brings his hand up to his balls.

“Fuck, my Prince.” Ben rasps as one of his hands tangles in Aegons hair.

Aegon chuckles around Ben as his hips begin to jerk. Aegon uses both of his hands to push Ben’s hips into the bed and shower him with the pleasure of his mouth. I start to kiss and suck on Ben’s neck as our names fall from his lips like a prayer.

“Come for us.” I murmur against his neck before I bite down on his pulse point.

A low groan spills from Ben’s mouth as his hips twitch as he begins to fill Aegons throat. Aegon licks every drop that Ben has to offer him. He continues offering small licks as Ben’s thighs begin to shake.

“My prince,” Ben groans pulling Aegon off of him by his hair.

Aegon chuckles lowly as he crawls up Ben’s body and claims his lips for his own. Aegon releases Ben and turns to me to ensnare me. I sigh into Aegons mouth as I taste Ben. We slowly pull apart and all cuddle into each other on the spacious bed.

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My eyes flutter open as the morning light peeks through our windows. I untangle myself from Ben and Aegon and softly pad over to the doors. I poke my head out to ask a guard to have a servant bring up some fresh water and cloths.

The supplies are brought to me with haste along with a letter for the three of us to hold an audience with the King and Queen once we dress. I bring the supplies into the bathing chambers and begin to clean off Ben’s bloody armor. The bath water has turned a deep burgundy and I sigh when I see that it’s also crusted under my nails.

“You don’t have to clean up after me.” Ben whispers to me as I jump at his voice.

“Am I not ceaselessly cleaning up after the both of you?” I raise my eyebrow as a smile spreads across my face.

Aegon begins to stir from the bed and sits up pouting at being left alone. He gets up and joins us in the bathing chambers and I tell them about the note I received. We all slowly pull our clothes on and Aegon and I help Ben put his armor back on.

Upon opening the door we’re greeted with the stain that has been left from last nights events. We walk past silently and flow down down the steps. As we turn the corner we can see Viserys atop the throne looking less than pleased.

“I’m far too sober for this.” Aegon whispers in my ear.

“Hush,” I elbow him in the side.

“Your Grace.” Ben says bowing deeply.

“Who cares to tell me what happened last night?” Viserys voice is rough as he looks to all three of us.

“A man was heard loudly speaking in the halls of how it was his plan to come into our chambers to rape and harm me. Ser Benjicot was simply protecting me from those events occurring.” I offer hoping my somewhat thought out words will distract them from the brazen violence that followed.

“So you took his life? We have dungeons for a reason boy.” Viserys voice carries throughout the empty hall as he looks to Ben.

“I-“ Ben starts.

“Is it not his job to protect me and Aegon? By whatever means necessary?” I challenge Viserys as my voice rises to meet his.

“Daughter, I’m not mad that he protected you, I’m mad that there’s stain on the stone reminding us of the brutality.” Viserys eyes narrow on me.

“Gods save us! There’s a stain on the stone.” Aegon brings a hand to his forehead rolling his eyes.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns staring daggers at him.

“You three already cause me enough rumors and whispers throughout court. If you’re going to kill someone for my daughter at least make sure there’s no one to witness it.” Viserys relents shaking his head looking to Ben. “All three of you leave the Keep, I do not wish to see you for the rest of the day.” he waves his hand at us in dismissal.

Ben takes us past the guard quarters so he can remove his armor before we leave for the day. We linger on the front steps not really having an idea of where to go. I suggest we claim an empty villa in the gardens and have drinks and food catered to us.

“Excellent idea, my love.” Aegon claps his hands together. “And where are the gardens again?” he clears his throat.

“This way.” I roll my eyes and lead us.

I find us a villa surprisingly quick and servants are upon us in moments. We order many bottle and ask for them to close the billowy curtains around us for extra privacy. We have an intimate table at the entrance and a couple of couches and chairs tucked away in the back.

“Why didn’t I know about this place sooner?” Aegon relaxes back into his chair with his glass.

“Because you wouldn’t appreciate it as the sanctuary that it is.” I hum as I take a sip of the sweet wine.

“I’m sorry about last night.” Ben breathes out looking to us.

“Don’t be.” Aegon scrunches his brows.

“My actions just made your father kick us out of the Keep for the day.” he clenches his fists angry with himself.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” I shrug my shoulders with a smile.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” Aegon raises his glass to me and we look to Ben expectantly.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” Ben sighs raising his glass.

“You don’t have this position just because you fuck me. You are a brave knight who understands us but loves and protects us anyway.” I say grabbing his hand with an appreciative smile.

“Our father is basically a walking corpse. By the time we stumble into the Keep later he’ll probably forget all about it.” Aegon offers with a lopsided smile.

“And we can forget all about it right now.” I drain my cup and go to refill it.

We sit and drink and let Ben vent for a while listening intently to him. More drinks are brought to us along with lunch and we leisurely graze. The air starts to get warmer and we all shed out of our first layer of clothing leaving us absolutely indecent.

“Up on the table. I want to write my apology with my tongue.” Ben turns to me with low lids as his words go straight to my core.

He moves our glasses and bottles then turns to me expectantly. I slowly rise out of the chair on shaky legs, giggling as the wine rushes to my head. Ben stands grabbing my waist and placing me on the table. He claims his seat once more and pulls me closer by my hips causing my silk slip to bunch around my waist.

“Finally we have some good food.” Aegon chuckles lowly as Ben starts to dip his head down.

Ben places a soft kiss on my wet center sending a shiver through my body. He trails his tongue along my slit making my breath catch in my throat. A breathy sigh escapes my lips as he pulls back to place small kisses on my inner thighs.

“Ben,” his name seeps out of my mouth as he playfully bites down on my tender flesh.

He props my legs on his shoulders and finally brings his torturous mouth to my core. His main focus becomes my clit and at the rapid pace his tongue is moving I would believe that he’s truly writing his apology. A cry erupts from my throat as he slides two fingers into me.

“You guys are so hot.” Aegon groans.

My eyes follow Aegons voice and our eyes lock. My eyes roll back as Ben starts to curl his fingers. Once my vision returns Aegon is hovering over the table and claims my lips. I squeak out in surprise as wine trickles out the sides of our mouth as Aegon brought some with to the kiss. I get lost in the taste of Aegon and the wine as my hips begin grinding onto Ben’s face.

Ben’s rhythm never falters as he begins to pump his fingers faster. Aegon releases my mouth and I let out a loud moan as Ben starts with a third finger. One of my hands buries itself in Ben’s hair and he grunts as I pull. Moans fall from my mouth like a symphony as my orgasm slams through my body washing me in pleasure.

Ben continues with his tongue and fingers while pulling my hips even closer to his face. My whole upper body is arching off the table as he continues his assault. Aegon brings his mouth back to mine to try and hide the whimpers and moans that have been pouring from my mouth.

“Quiet down before I shove my cock in your mouth to silence you.” Aegon says hoovering above my lips.

I come hard squeezing my legs shut around Ben’s head and sobbing into Aegons mouth. Ben offers small licks that continue to send jolts through my body. He finally detaches himself from me and looks up to me with a wet face.

Ben removes both of my legs slowly offering kisses down each until they’re hanging off the table. Aegon grabs my ankle and pulls me over to him. I slide across the table giggling as I stop in front of Aegon.

“I think I would like a taste too.” he hums before bringing his mouth to my over sensitive core.

“Aegon fuck,” I breathlessly pant as his tongue laps at me.

I fall back onto the table with a thud as his tongue zeros in on my clit. My body is trembling with pleasure at every swirl of his tongue. Ben captures my lips in a kiss and swallows all of my whimpers. My hips rise off of the table as I explode all over Aegons tongue.

“Fuck, please,” I whine voice cracking as he continues with his mouth.

“You can give him one more on the table.” Ben coos to me as he pushes my slip the rest of the way up.

Once I’m fully exposed on the table Ben wastes no time reaching for my breasts. His fingers are quick to start pinching and pulling my nipples. Both of their names fill the space between the pants that tumble from my mouth.

“Aegon, I- I, fuck Ben,” a sob tears through me as I come across Aegons tongue again.

“Mm, such a good girl for us.” Ben whispers smoothing my hair.

Aegon removes himself to sit up and take in my disheveled state. My breathing is ragged as my chest rises and falls. Ben slowly pulls my slip back down and they shower my body with kisses offering me words of praise.

“Come, let’s go lay on the couches with some wine.” Ben offers me his hand as Aegon gathers the bottles and cups.

As I hop off the table my legs threaten to give out underneath me. I giggle as Ben’s hands rush to my forearms to help steady me. We all collapse onto the couch which is more of the size of a bed thankfully for us. Aegon hands us our cups filled anew and we all sip in silence.

The wine helps me calm my breathing as I sink back into the couch between the two of them. They both have hands grasped on my thighs rubbing soothing patterns and squeezing softly.

“I wanna fuck you.” Ben’s breath fans across my neck as he trails kisses up my jaw.

“Please Ben,” I whine as his hand travels under my slip to wet core.

“Get on your stomach. Head in Aegons lap.” he nods his head standing up to tower above us.

I slowly start to turn over and place my head on Aegons thighs and raise my ass into the air. I feel the day bed dip behind me and turn my head to look up at Aegon who is smirking down at me. Ben’s hands go to my hips and lift them up to meet his. His tip swirls around in my wetness and glides against my clit causing me to gasp.

“You ready?” Ben asks breathlessly trailing a hand down my spine.

“Yes,” I mewl as I rock my hips back.

He slowly slides every inch into me as I bury my head in Aegons lap. Once his hips are flush against my ass I sigh pushing it back into him seeking more friction. He pulls out and slams back into me almost sliding me across Aegons legs. Both of his hands grab my hips roughly as he starts pounding into me.

Moans keep pouring from my mouth has his hips repeatedly snap into mine. My hands are gripping Aegons thighs as my nails bite into him. I rest my head on his thigh and get lost in my pleasure as Ben continues with no end in sight.

“Keep her quiet.” Ben looks to Aegon as a particularly loud moan falls from my lips.

Aegon is quick to slide his underwear down and free his cock. He wastes no time trailing it along my parted lips. I let my tongue fall out of my mouth and press into his hardened length. Aegon groans and begins to push himself inside my mouth.

“Taking us both so well.” Aegon groans moving my hair to the side so he can watch.

I begin to sloppily bob my head as spit trails out from the sides of my mouth. I groan around Aegon as Ben lifts my hips a little higher to reach a new angle. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as Aegon sets a pace of his own.

Aegon and Ben find a rhythm where when pulls out the other is pushing in. My body is shaking from the amount of pleasure I’m receiving and I let out a harsh sob when Aegons sneaking fingers find my abandoned clit.

“Fuck, squeezing me so good.” Ben pants as his hips begin to falter before he finds a new rhythm.

Aegon shoots down my throat without warning and it begins to spill out the side of my mouth. He pulls out panting and stokes my jaw affectionately. Ben’s hands travel up my spine before wrapping around my front. He pulls me up flush against his chest and begins driving his cock up into me. He wraps a hand around my throat and turns my head to look back at him.

“Beautiful.” Ben whispers as his mouth attaches to mine.

Aegons come mixes with saliva trailing down mine and Ben’s face. His hand applies soft pressure and I kiss him even harder. I whine into Ben’s mouth as I feel Aegons traitorous tongue begin to softly lick at my clit. Ben and I break away from the kiss and gaze down at Aegon. Ben and I both come as we look upon him under us.

We all slowly pull apart and fall back onto the bed, breathing ragged. Aegon takes a sip of wine and passes the cup to us. We all look thoroughly ruined as we lounge back into the couch.

“Someone has to call a servant for more wine.” Aegon sighs as he picks up the empty bottles.

“You’re already up.” I roll my eyes. “Wait! Put some fucking pants on before you scar the staff.” I shout at him before he opens the curtains.

“As if your moans didn’t do that already.” Aegon tosses over his shoulder as he slips back into his trousers.

Aegon breezes out of the villa and Ben tucks me into his side. He kisses me lazily as his fingers stroke my cheek. We pull apart when Aegon returns with more bottles and candles as the sun is beginning to set.

We continue drinking late into the night and then start to pull our clothes on to make our way back to the Keep. We stumble in the main doors giggling and hanging off of each other. As we make it up the stairs Alicent is standing in front of our chambers with a scrunched brow.

“All of you get to bed. Now.” she says through her teeth. “We will discuss your actions in the garden on the morrow when, Gods hoping, you all will be sober.” she looks to us with disgust and swishes back to her chambers.

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masterlist

[favefandomimagines]

Peter (a.b)

Summary: the past has a funny way of ruining the greatest things

AN: I really hope this made sense 😂 I was all over the place

Request: @talkativecarnation hi! omg i looove ur Anthony Bridgerton fics SO MUCH! can i request 10, 9, 13, 12 from your angst prompt list. preferably in that sequence in an arranged courtship/marriage scenario but it's all up to you if you have a better vision for it 🤍 can't wait for this!! TYSM!!!

The estate of Aubrey Hall shimmered in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues of sunrise spilling across the sprawling grounds. The chirping of birds and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze brought a sense of serenity to the outside world, but within the grand manor, an air of tension lingered.

Anthony Bridgerton sat at the edge of his massive mahogany desk, his head bowed and his hands gripping the edges as though they might anchor him. His study, a room that had always served as his sanctuary, now felt oppressive.

The neatly organized stacks of correspondence and ledgers stood as a testament to the responsibilities he carried as Viscount, yet today, those duties paled in comparison to the turmoil in his heart.

His gaze lingered on the letter before him, the ink slightly smudged from the number of times his fingers had traced its words. Y/N had written it weeks ago, with no intention of it seeing the light of day. A heartfelt plea for understanding, for connection, for something more than the strained coexistence they had settled into since their wedding.

Anthony found the letter in between two large books he had never opened until that day.

Her words were full of vulnerability, and that was what made them so unbearable. She deserved better than the coldness he had offered her.

A marriage born of duty was nothing unusual among the ton. Anthony had entered the arrangement with the pragmatic mindset he applied to all aspects of his life—an advantageous match, one that would bolster both families and secure his legacy.

Y/N was everything he could have hoped for in a wife: poised, intelligent, and well-matched to the demands of her new station. Yet for all her perfection, he felt the weight of failure pressing down on him, a failure to be the husband she deserved.

The truth gnawed at him, an ache he couldn’t ignore. His heart, traitorous and stubborn, remained tethered to a past he could not undo. A past named Siena Russo.

He had loved Siena with a passion he had not known he was capable of. The fiery opera singer had consumed his every thought, her voice and presence filling every corner of his being.

But their love, as wild and all-encompassing as it had been, was doomed from the start. Siena could never fit into his world, and Anthony’s duty to his family had forced him to end it.

Or so he told himself.

The reality was far less simple. The end of his relationship with Siena had not been entirely his decision, and the bitterness of that unresolved goodbye haunted him.

He told himself he had done the right thing, the only thing he could do, but the weight of her absence still lingered, like a ghost he could not exorcise. And now, it threatened to destroy the fragile bond he might have had with Y/N.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. How could he move forward with Y/N when Siena’s shadow still loomed so large? How could he pretend to be the devoted husband she longed for when his heart was so fractured?

Every time he thought he had steeled himself to let the past go, a memory of Siena would creep in—a laugh, a touch, the sound of her voice. It was as if she were etched into his soul, an indelible mark he could not erase.

The creak of the study door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it into the drawer as though hiding it could also conceal his guilt. Turning, he saw Benedict standing in the doorway, a cup of tea in hand and a knowing look in his eyes.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, brother,” Benedict said, stepping into the room and setting the cup down on the desk.

Anthony forced a tight smile. “Just tired. The estate requires more attention than usual this time of year.”

Benedict snorted, crossing his arms. “You might fool the rest of the family with that excuse, but not me. What’s troubling you?”

Anthony hesitated. He and Benedict had always shared an unspoken bond, a willingness to confide in one another when the burdens of their respective roles became too much. But this—this was a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he could voice.

“Nothing of importance,” Anthony said finally, turning away.

Benedict studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “You know, Anthony, ignoring a problem doesn’t make it disappear. Whatever it is, you should deal with it before it festers. For your sake. And hers.”

Anthony stiffened at the mention of Y/N, but he said nothing. Benedict left without another word, his parting advice hanging in the air like a challenge Anthony wasn’t ready to face.

Alone again, Anthony let out a long sigh. His brother was right, of course. Avoidance would solve nothing. But how could he face Y/N when he couldn’t even face himself? How could he explain the tangled mess of emotions inside him when he barely understood them?

Anthony leaned back in his chair, staring up at the high ceiling of his study as if searching for answers in its ornate design. He had married Y/N with the intention of fulfilling his duty, of honoring his family’s expectations.

But somewhere along the way, he had begun to see her as more than just his wife in name. She was kind, perceptive, and endlessly patient with him—a patience he knew he had done nothing to deserve.

And that only made it worse.

Because the more he came to admire her, the more he realized how much he was failing her. And every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she already knew. If she could sense the part of him that still belonged to someone else.

He clenched his fists, the guilt and frustration bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t keep living like this, caught between the woman he had lost and the woman he was supposed to love. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself to move forward, Siena’s voice echoed in his mind, whispering reminders of what they had shared and what he had given up.

Anthony closed his eyes, a single thought running through his mind.

How can I give Y/N my heart when it still belongs to someone else?

And in that moment, he realized the answer was one he wasn’t ready to face.

||

The glow of twilight bathed the grounds of Aubrey Hall in hues of amber and rose, casting long, soft shadows across the manicured gardens. Inside the grand estate, Y/N stood by the window of the bedroom she and Anthony now shared, her hands loosely clasped before her.

Her gaze wandered over the sprawling fields and dense woods beyond, but her thoughts were far from the picturesque view.

She had spent much of the afternoon in quiet solitude, walking the gardens to clear her mind and steady her heart. The beauty of the estate, though breathtaking, did little to soothe the ache that had grown within her since her marriage to Anthony Bridgerton.

Theirs had been a union forged not by love, but by expectation. Duty. Obligation. At the time, she had told herself it would be enough. She would fulfill her role as Viscountess, and in time, affection would blossom between them, as it often did in such arrangements.

But now, months into their marriage, Y/N found herself yearning for more—more than the polite exchanges and careful civility that defined their interactions. She had entered this union willing to give her heart, yet Anthony seemed unwilling—or perhaps unable—to meet her halfway.

The truth of it cut deeply. Anthony was a good man, of that she had no doubt. He was protective, devoted to his family, and carried the weight of his responsibilities with a strength that few could rival. But there was a distance in him, a wall he had built around himself that she couldn’t seem to breach. And worse still, she knew why.

Siena Russo.

The name was never spoken between them, but it lingered in the spaces where silence stretched too long. Y/N had heard whispers of Anthony’s past with the opera singer before their engagement, though she had dismissed them at the time. After all, many men of Anthony’s station had dalliances before settling into respectable marriages. It was a truth of their world, one she had prepared herself to accept.

But this was different. Siena wasn’t merely a part of Anthony’s past—she was still a part of his heart. Y/N could feel it in the way his gaze sometimes drifted when he thought she wasn’t watching, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes when they were alone. She could see it in the way his body tensed whenever a mention of the opera or a familiar tune from the stage drifted through a drawing room.

It wasn’t the existence of Siena that hurt Y/N; it was the hold the other woman still had over Anthony. A hold that no amount of duty or propriety could seem to sever.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the door opening behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Anthony—she had memorized the rhythm of his footsteps, the sound of his breath when he was near. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before stepping fully inside, the tension in his posture palpable.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tentative.

She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, though the effort of keeping her emotions at bay felt exhausting. “Anthony.”

He lingered by the door, as if debating whether to stay or retreat. Finally, he crossed the room, stopping a few paces away from her. His dark eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something vulnerable in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice low. “For how I’ve been—how I’ve treated you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, at the sincerity she could hear beneath the surface. But apologies, however genuine, wouldn’t erase the months of loneliness and doubt. “You’ve been distant,” she said quietly, her tone steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. “I’ve tried to understand, to give you time, but it feels as though no matter what I do, you keep me at arm’s length.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking slightly. “I wish I could be the person you want me to be. But I’m not. And I don’t think I ever will be.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She had suspected as much, had felt it in the coldness of his touch and the distance in his eyes, but hearing him admit it was a pain she hadn’t prepared for.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why won’t you let me in?”

He hesitated, the battle within him playing out across his features. When he finally spoke, his words came in a rush, raw and unfiltered. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t see how much I’m hurting you by staying? But I don’t know how to let go.”

“Let go of what?” Y/N pressed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Your past? Siena?”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, and the way Anthony flinched told her all she needed to know. She had tried to avoid speaking Siena’s name, tried to be patient and understanding, but she could no longer ignore the truth.

“You loved her,” Y/N said, her voice soft but steady. “I know you did. And I know that love doesn’t simply vanish. But Anthony, you’re married now. To me. I cannot be a shadow in my own marriage.”

Anthony’s shoulders slumped, and he raked a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling before her eyes. “Every time I think I’ve moved on, you pull me back in,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But every time, you leave again. I can’t keep doing this.”

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had cried enough in the solitude of her room, in the quiet hours of the night when Anthony lay beside her but felt a thousand miles away. Now, she needed answers.

“Do you think it’s fair to punish me for what you lost with her?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Do you think I don’t feel it every day, the way your heart isn’t truly here? The way it belongs to someone else?”

Anthony didn’t respond, his silence speaking volumes. And as Y/N stared at him, her heart breaking anew, she realized she was at a crossroads. She could continue to fight for a man who seemed determined to hold onto his past, or she could let him go and preserve what little of herself remained.

But deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet..

||

The Bridgerton family was known for its lively breakfasts, a time when the entire household gathered to share stories, tease one another, and strategize for the day ahead. But this morning, Y/N had no desire to face the endless chatter of the Bridgerton siblings, nor the weight of Anthony’s brooding presence. She lingered in the garden instead, letting the cool morning air soothe her frayed nerves.

She hadn’t slept. The argument with Anthony had replayed in her mind endlessly, his words like daggers carving into her chest. The rawness of it left her feeling unsteady, as though the ground beneath her feet might crumble at any moment.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching until Eloise’s voice broke through the stillness.

“There you are. I was starting to think you’d run away.”

Y/N turned to find Eloise standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked in that familiar, no-nonsense way of hers. Dressed in a casual morning frock with her hair only half-pinned, Eloise looked as though she’d just rolled out of bed—but her sharp eyes and quick tongue betrayed that she was, as always, entirely alert.

“Good morning, Eloise,” Y/N said, her voice betraying none of the turmoil she felt inside.

Eloise tilted her head, studying Y/N with a perceptiveness that was both comforting and unsettling. “Don’t ‘good morning’ me. You look as though you’ve been crying, which is entirely out of character for you. What’s he done this time?”

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, and Eloise smirked. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I may not spend my days gossiping like the rest of the ton, but I have eyes. And I’ve known Anthony far too long to be fooled by his brooding act.”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. She and Eloise had grown close in the months since the wedding, their shared disdain for the more superficial aspects of high society fostering an easy camaraderie. But there were certain things Y/N had never discussed with her sister-in-law, and the state of her marriage was at the top of that list.

“It’s nothing,” Y/N said finally, attempting a weak smile. “Really.”

Eloise scoffed, stepping closer and plopping unceremoniously onto the stone bench beside her. “That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard plenty. Come on, then. Out with it. I promise not to repeat a word, unless it’s to berate my dear brother for being an insufferable idiot.”

Despite herself, Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound surprising her as much as it seemed to please Eloise.

“That’s better,” Eloise said, giving her a small smile. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but you do realize you’re allowed to be angry with him, don’t you? Anthony has a way of making everyone believe he knows best, but trust me—he’s as clueless as the rest of us, especially when it comes to feelings.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand over the folds of her skirt. “It’s not just that. I… I knew what I was getting into when I married him. Or at least I thought I did. But he’s so—he’s so closed off, Eloise. It’s like he’s locked himself away, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach him.”

Eloise frowned, her expression softening. “And let me guess—he’s too busy wallowing in his own guilt to notice how much it’s hurting you.”

Y/N looked at her, startled by the accuracy of the statement. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen him do it before,” Eloise said simply. “With our family, with himself, with anyone who gets too close. Anthony carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he refuses to ask for help because he thinks it’s his job to handle everything alone. It’s infuriating, really.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, and she looked down at her lap. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep trying, Eloise. I want to love him, but I don’t know if he’ll ever let me.”

Eloise was quiet for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. Then she reached over and placed a hand over Y/N’s. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. Loving someone like Anthony is exhausting—believe me, I’ve tried for years as his sister. But you’re not the only one who can knock some sense into him. If you need help, I’m more than happy to remind him that he’s being a complete fool.”

Y/N let out another laugh, this one tinged with relief. “Thank you, Eloise. Truly.”

“Of course,” Eloise said with a grin. “Now, let’s go inside before breakfast is over. If we’re lucky, we might catch Anthony before he disappears into his study to brood. And if he looks even slightly smug, I’ll spill tea on him.”

Y/N smiled, the tension in her chest easing slightly. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope. Eloise was right—she didn’t have to face this alone. And perhaps, with a little help, she could find a way to reach Anthony after all.

||

The parlor was dimly lit, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and lingering tension. Anthony sat on the edge of a high-backed chair, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. Across the room, Y/N stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if warding off a chill that wasn’t there.

Neither of them spoke for what felt like an eternity. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the distant ticking of the clock. Y/N’s mind raced with fragments of their earlier argument, the pain of Anthony’s words still fresh and raw.

"I wish I could be the person you want me to be."

"But I’m not. And I don’t think I ever will be."

How was she supposed to move forward after hearing that? How was she supposed to reconcile the man she had vowed to love and honor with the man who now admitted he might never be able to give her his heart?

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/N said finally, her voice trembling but firm. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not.”

Anthony’s head snapped up at her words, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he looked almost startled, as though her declaration had caught him off guard. But then his expression softened, and he let out a long, weary sigh.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been selfish, Y/N. I’ve been holding onto something I shouldn’t, and in doing so, I’ve hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to keep her composure. “You say that, Anthony, but do you realize what it feels like? To share a life with someone who won’t share themselves in return? I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to understand. But every time I think we’re moving forward, you pull away again.”

Anthony rose from his chair, crossing the room in a few long strides. He stopped a few paces away from her, his hands hanging limply at his sides as if unsure whether he had the right to reach out. “It’s not because of you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s because of me. I don’t know how to let go of the past, Y/N. I don’t know how to let go of her.”

There it was. The truth they had danced around for months, laid bare in the dim light of the fire. Her name wasn’t spoken, but it didn’t need to be. Y/N had always known she was competing with a ghost, but hearing Anthony admit it aloud was a different kind of pain—a sharp, searing ache that stole her breath.

“Then why did you marry me?” she asked, her voice breaking. “If you’re still in love with her, why didn’t you fight to be with her?”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. “Because I couldn’t,” he said after a long pause. “She made her choice, and I made mine. I thought… I thought I could move on. That I could be the man my family needed me to be. The man you deserved.”

“But you can’t,” Y/N said bitterly. “Can you?”

His silence was answer enough.

Y/N turned away, tears stinging her eyes as she stared into the fire. “Do you think I don’t see how much this is hurting me? How much it’s breaking me to stay in a marriage where I’ll never be enough for you?”

Anthony’s head snapped up at her words, and he took a step closer, desperation etched into every line of his face. “You are enough,” he said fiercely. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. This isn’t about you.”

“Isn’t it?” she demanded, turning to face him. “I’ve given you everything I have, Anthony. My love, my trust, my patience. And what have you given me in return? A shadow of a husband who’s still in love with someone else.”

His shoulders slumped, and he raked a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling before her eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, his voice breaking. “I need to fix this.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he truly wanted to make things work. But how could she, when he hadn’t yet let go of the woman who still held his heart?

“I don’t know if you can,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Not until you decide what you really want. Do you want to stay in the past, clinging to something that’s already gone? Or do you want to build a future with me?”

Anthony opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. For the first time in his life, he was truly lost, torn between the ghost of what once was and the promise of what could be. And as Y/N turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the flickering light of the fire, he realized he might not have much time to decide

||

The door closed softly behind her, but to Anthony, the sound was deafening. It echoed in the empty room, a final punctuation to her words that left him rooted in place. His chest felt tight, constricted, as though the air had been sucked out of the room. For the first time in years, Anthony Bridgerton—the Viscount, the eldest son, the steadfast leader—felt utterly powerless.

He sank back into the chair by the fireplace, his head falling into his hands. The warmth of the embers did little to thaw the chill settling deep in his bones. Y/N’s words replayed in his mind, each one sharp and piercing, cutting deeper than any wound he had ever endured.

"Do you want to stay in the past, clinging to something that’s already gone? Or do you want to build a future with me?"

It was a question he didn’t know how to answer. He had spent so long building walls around himself, convincing everyone—including himself—that he was fine, that he had moved on from Siena, that his marriage to Y/N was enough. But tonight, those walls had come crashing down, and he was left exposed, vulnerable, and unmoored.

The truth was, Anthony didn’t know how to let go of Siena. He had loved her once with a reckless passion that consumed him entirely. But it wasn’t just the loss of Siena that haunted him—it was the idea of love itself. He had seen what it could do, how it could destroy a person. He had watched his mother fall apart after his father’s death, her grief so overwhelming it had nearly crushed her. Anthony had sworn he would never allow himself to feel that kind of pain.

And yet, here he was, on the brink of losing the one person who had dared to love him despite all his flaws, his scars, his mistakes. Y/N had given him her heart, and he had squandered it, too afraid to truly let her in.

His jaw clenched as he stared into the dying fire, frustration and guilt warring within him. He had married Y/N because it was the logical choice, the responsible choice. She was everything a viscountess should be—graceful, intelligent, kind. But somewhere along the way, she had become more than just his wife. She had become his anchor, his light in the darkness he had long resigned himself to. And he was losing her.

The sound of the clock striking midnight jolted him from his thoughts. He couldn’t sit here any longer, wallowing in self-pity and indecision. He had to do something, to find a way to fix the mess he had made. Rising to his feet, he left the parlor and made his way to Y/N’s room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet halls.

When he reached her door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What could he possibly say to her? How could he make her believe that she was enough, that she was everything, when he hadn’t even been able to admit it to himself until now?

Steeling himself, Anthony knocked softly. “Y/N,” he called, his voice low but steady. “It’s me.”

There was no response. For a moment, he considered walking away, giving her the space she clearly needed. But then the door creaked open, and Y/N stood before him, her expression guarded. She was still in the same dress she had worn earlier, though her hair was loose now, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, met his, and the sight of her broke something inside him.

“What do you want, Anthony?” she asked, her voice tired.

He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I can’t lose you. Please… tell me how to make it right.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly schooled her expression, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not that simple,” she said. “You can’t just say you don’t want to lose me and expect everything to change. You have to mean it, Anthony. You have to show me.”

“I do mean it,” he said, taking a step closer. “I’ve been a coward, Y/N. I’ve been so afraid of opening myself up, of losing someone I care about, that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away. But I see it now. I see how much I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you—give me a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.”

Her eyes searched his, as though trying to determine if his words were genuine. “And what about her?” she asked quietly. “What about Siena?”

Anthony’s heart clenched at the mention of her name. He had spent so long holding onto the memory of Siena, convincing himself that he could never feel that kind of love again. But standing here, looking at Y/N, he realized how wrong he had been. His feelings for Siena had been fleeting, intense but ultimately unsustainable. What he felt for Y/N was different—it was steady, grounding, and terrifying in its depth.

“Siena was my past,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re my future, Y/N. If you’ll let me, I want to build that future with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and for a moment, Anthony feared he had said too little, too late. But then she stepped aside, opening the door wider, and he knew she was giving him a chance—a chance to prove that he could be the husband she needed, the man she deserved.

And Anthony vowed to himself that he would not squander it.

[beat-the-morning]

🖤 Fumigation Journal || Hozier x Reader🖤

BOTH PARTS

READ ON TUMBLR UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ || smut

Tags: oral sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, cum swallowing, marsturbation interrupted, love confessions, fingering, face fucking, dry humping, marking, creampie (kinda), squirting, breakfast in bed

Summary: Andrew is staying at your apartment while his house gets fumigated, you come back from work one day only to find him with your dream journal in hand. What will happen next?

Word Count: 7k

A/N: This fic was co-written with oomf :) We both wrote both chapters— go give them some love!!

Their Wattpad

💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙

You gazed out your window, sleepy eyes reverently observing the sunrise. Your heart swelled— somehow, the sunrise always felt prettier when you had someone to love. Really, everything in life gets slathered in beauty

And, oh, how close your love was. He was staying in your shitty apartment instead of his big, old house. The one that had no air conditioning, that he needed to get renovated when he moved in to even be able to piss in the bathroom. It also frequently got infested with bugs. Andrew tried everything, but nothing really worked. Not bug traps, nor the exterminator, nor closing the gaps in the house.

So, currently the house was getting fumigated. Maybe these bugs realized how he was made for you. Maybe they were on your side— the ultimate matchmakers. You giggled into your pillow at the mere thought.

You got up and rolled out of bed. Work was in 30 minutes— it was probably best to suck it up and stop staring at the sky, like some sort of romantic. Even if you very well were. You stumbled out of your room, hair frizzy, face bare, eyes blurry.

Your sleepy legs made their way into the kitchen, every step a battle. You weren't paying attention, your mind was way better at thinking about your pretty best friend. In consequence, you bumped into the man himself. Face hitting his chest, you let out a tired groan. You looked up at him with weary eyes— one of his hands ended up on your shoulder, steadying you.

“Clumsy morning, huh?”

You cover your mouth, hiding a yawn. Andrew laughed, a warm, mellow, welcoming sound. Wanting him was your only absolute this early. Everything was blurry, you really didn't care about anything, you were tired, and your head hurt. But you wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“I made french toast.” He said, letting you go, interrupting your thinking.

You happily hummed, sitting down at the table as he set a plate in front of you, “Thank you, Andy”

“No problem. And I'm sorry for this being all so sudden. Thank you for taking me in. It… it really means a lot, you're a sweetheart. Truly.”

Your cheeks flushed, and it took you a few seconds to compose yourself before you dug into your pancakes.

Once you were done stuffing your face, you quickly got ready for your job. You organized books at the local library— and you sure as hell dressed the part. You decided on a patterned button down and black trousers- hell, your elderly neighbor dressed younger than you.

Work was boring as fuck, but at least it was Friday, so no more work for a couple days. You got through the day with one too many cups of coffee and at least one “smoke break”, which was really just a lap around the block to get away from work for a few minutes.

You didn't have the worst job ever—hell, the pay was the best you'd had. But it was tedious, and mind-numbingly boring. Especially when you had a man at home. Not your man, but rather the man you were given the curse of being “just friends” with.

You were utterly thrilled, yet exhausted at the end of the day, when you took the bus home and planned what movie you and Andy were to watch.

Your aching legs made their way up the stairs, your hand holding tightly onto the handrail, trying not to fall down the steps from how drowsy you were. The sweet promise of seeing your best friend filled you, though, and it did almost numb your pain.

You finally reached your floor, opening the door, heart warm and fuzzy, and your eyes befell a beautiful, but shocking sight.

Andrew lay there, on your cozy couch, in sweatpants and a white ribbed tank top. Even that was enough to stun you. His eyes were focused, glazed over, head tilted back. His hair was messy, tangled.

In one hand, he held a small, black journal- with striking similarity to your dream journal. You’d been using it for a few months now and had written every dream you’d had in it, while it had started out with innocent little fairytales, your dreams had become far less appropriate as of late. So the journal mostly was composed of dirty descriptions of intimacy- all with Andrew. This was the book that you mistakenly left open on your coffee table the night before. His other hand was under his sweatpants, gripping tightly, stroking his cock with wild abandon. He knew it was wrong, that he was invading your privacy, but god, was he weak for you.

“So fuckin’ hot…” He groans, the world around him fuzzy and blurred. “Please” he whimpered, bucking into his hand, a bit of drool leaking onto his chest, soaking the hair that peeked out from under that singlet.

You took it all in, and realized that you should not be watching this. You quickly shut the door, followed by a loud curse from Andy. You could feel your heart pounding in your ear. Fuck, were you wet. You were still in your work clothes, very much dressed like a librarian. But you couldn’t deny the wetness underneath it all, you felt your panties soaking more and more as the seconds passed by, you hated and loved what his simple yet perverted act was doing to you.

Behind the door, Andrew quickly put his conscious, ever twitching length away under those unintentionally slutty grey sweatpants. Or intentionally— you knew this man. Despite his very common bouts of disliking everything about himself, he knew how hot others saw him. And he wasn’t an idiot— he'd seen your reverent stares. He'd noticed how you always stayed wrapped in his arms just a second too long after hugs. He knew that you were attracted to him on some level. Maybe not the full extent, but he knew something was up.

How could he ruin this by wanking off to your private journal? Once his dick was put away, still twitching, leaking a bit in his pants, he ran his hand through his hair, hunched over, filled with guilt. Your moleskin-wrapped journal was abandoned on the floor. Man, did he fuck up.

You leaned into the door, your voice shaky— you were embarrassed, turned on, and terrified all at the same time.

“Andy… you decent?” you called out on the other side of the thin door, meek.

He looked up from his hands covering his flushed face, and responded a very pathetic, “Yea… Ehm, yeah, I am.” He shifted awkwardly, before his pretty hazel eyes fixed upon the floor. Shamed, and rightfully cockblocked.

You opened the door, slowly walking back into your apartment, your eyes focused on the floor, too embarrassed to look over at him. His breathing was shaky— he was scared to take even one step closer to you.

“I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, taking in a deep breath before speaking again. “I have no excuse, I really, really don’t. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I was.. you were gone, found yer book… and… and I thought you were working, and I'm so fucking sorry, Ang-” He cut himself off with a sob, one finger nervously twisting at a curl.

Angel, huh? The man was always such a sweet talker when he fucked up. Now you weren't even mad at him, how could you be? You wished you could have the image of him pleasuring himself burnt into your eyelids. But you snapped out of these filthy thoughts when he spoke again.

“I’ll just leave, I know you probably need to process this whole thing, but please don’t—“

“No- I mean, it’s…” You took a heavy breath in. Please keep going. You thought, but what slipped out was a little more civil;

“We all do it, yeah? So… so…” You took another heavy breath in, your tone changing to a softer one. “Don’t leave.”

His heart broke with your last words, how could he say no to you?

“No, no, I'm… really sorry, that journal was private. And… and it's not fair to you,” cue the chorus of sniffles, “It's none of my business, even if it's about-”

And when you thought your cheeks couldn't flush more. Your best friend was sobbing, and yet you couldn't help but notice the outline in those sweats. Long, hard, twitching, leaking onto the waistband. Oh, how you wish to swallow it whole.

You took a step closer to him, finally looking into his eyes, they were red and teary, begging for forgiveness. You hugged him, awkwardly, but you knew he didn’t care much about that. He just needed the embrace of another. He felt horrible—disrespectful, dirty, perverted. All he wanted to do was sink into this couch and die from pure sin.

But the closest he could do was sink into you. He was so disappointed in himself that he didn't really notice his face was between your breasts. Fine, he did notice, and it made him even harder. But it was a shameful boner— and he really did derive a lot of comfort from your embrace.

You gently stroked his hair, whispering the occasional ‘you're okay’. Did he notice how hard your nipples were? Did he feel your heart beating? Oh, you felt him. Obviously he was hunched over, in a way that you couldn't feel his cock, but you could feel his shaky hands holding onto you. You could feel the way he nuzzled his nose into your breast— and fuck, did it turn you on.

You moved to the couch, sitting down next to each other, you gently pulled his face from your chest, holding it tenderly in your hands. He looked so ashamed, yet aroused. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing in your touch and caresses, surprised that you even wanted him near you.

He sighed softly, eyes still closed, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead, your thumbs softly rubbing his cheeks in an attempt at comforting him.

When you pulled away slightly, he let out a little whine. He didn't mean to– he was ever so flustered. His cheeks under your fingers were hot, very hot. Like he'd never been kissed on the forehead by someone as pretty as you. You were sure he had, but it was cute to see him fumbling around like he hadn't.

“I really am sorry, I don't deserve this.. you being so damn sweet, when you should really just be yelling at me.. and in your own house, I'm such a-”

“For God's sake, could you shut up?” You blurted, your hand stilling in his hair.

He looked at you with big, wet eyes, almost like a kicked puppy, he looked like he was on the brink of tears. “But I-”

You saw those pretty shining eyes, and that blabbering soft mouth. And all you could think about was shutting him up yourself. You leaned in, the bow of your lips drawn against him in a slow, but nevertheless desperate affair. Andrew sobbed a little into the kiss, but held you close. He needed this, he needed you.

You were the first to slip your tongue into it, tasting his spit. He tasted like coffee and tears. Poor man, an insomniac and depressed. What he needs now is pussy. Plenty of it, to drown his sorrows in.

You kept devouring him, feeling his hands shaking throughout, yet incredibly needy. One hand landed on your thigh, and you fell into him, groaning needily.

God, he could feel the heat radiating from you. He pulled off your kiss-swollen lips and got at your neck, quickly finding the spot that drew you in. He spoke quietly, under your ear

“This good?” He whispered, eyes half lidded. He didn't even try to hide his boner, and you could feel his precum leaking out.

“Mhm..” you whispered reverently, moving his hand up your waist.

He fumbled while unbuttoning your shirt, quickly followed by your bra before he latched onto one of your breasts, needily sucking at your nipple while his hand played with the other one. You whimpered quietly, your hand immediately moving to his hair, fingers tangling in his brown curls. His lips moved to your other nipple, sucking it passionately while his hands travelled lower on your form, undoing your work pants after a bit of a struggle.

You tugged at his hair, leading him to where he was so obviously so very giddy to lap at. He looked up at you, heart eyes so pretty in the golden hour, but ever so feral. You met his gaze with a smile. He kissed a trail down to your clit as he inched both your panties and trousers down at the same time, moving down, licking a firm stripe up your warm pussy, then digging in, and eating you like a man starved.

And god, did he eat you out. Like he was made to. Eager and adoring, he worshipped you between your legs without even pulling away to breathe. His long tongue, soft lips, and nice big fingers— what else would he use them for? Yes, guitar playing, but he'd much prefer to play you instead.

His tongue worked at the lips of your pussy, nose dug into your clit, his stubble drawing giggles from you. It quickly became his safe space. He loved it. He'd always loved it, and he loved it even more now that it was you. His sweet muse.

And his favorite melody, out of all the love songs that he's heard, were your moans. A sweet crescendo, starting soft and shy, but loud enough for all your neighbors to hear by the time his fingers were inside you. You were his, all his. And everyone had to know that. They had to know that he was devouring your decadent body as it deserved to be.

His fingers curled into you, tickling the very spots that made you squirm and squeeze his face with your thighs. You returned his heart eyes before they rolled back.

You moaned so loudly, lewdly. A noise that you didn’t even know you could make. You felt a familiar knot in your belly, the feeling of it tightening only to suddenly snap overwhelming you.

“Fuck, you- Andrew, fucking- God!” You said, frustratingly riding the waves of pleasure running through you.

He looked up, eyes shining, still so very big and needy, but drowning in your orgasm, just as you were. He curled up next to you, catching your lips in a hungry kiss. When he pulled away for air, you smiled, in a way that you hoped he adored.

“You taste like pussy, Andy” You teased with a little giggle.

“Mm… Wonder who’s fault that is, angel.”

You giggled, kissing him again. His hands grabbed your waist and moved you so you were straddling his thigh, you ground against it, unknowingly rubbing his cock while doing so. One of your hands travelled lower towards his sweatpants, slipping under the waistband and wrapping your fingers around his cock. Slowly, you stroked it, the tip of it red and glistening with precum, poking out under his clothes. Your other hand pulled his top off, consumed with the need to feel his skin against yours.

He moaned softly into the kiss, pulling your hips firmly onto his thigh and making you hump it, you moaned in return, and he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your hand, his hips buckling towards you ever so slightly, you were going to stop, you wanted him in your mouth before he could finish, but you were too late. He came on your hand and on his abdomen not long after, a thick pearly coating on his slight pudge. You broke the kiss, looking down at his lap and pulling your hand up to your mouth.

He looked into your eyes, and you returned it, almost asking for permission, to which he gave you a small nod and a smile. Your eyes focused back on your hand, still covered with his seed, and you licked it off, quiet, soft moans escaping you as you swallowed his delicious sin.

“Baby, look at me,” he commanded softly, his grip in your thighs tightening. You looked at him, his eyes full of love and lust. “Good girl, now look here,” he pointed at the mess of cum on his abdomen. “Look at what you did.”

“Sorry.” You said with feigned innocence, looking at him with puppy eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet angel.” He cooed in a patronizing tone, knowing you were putting on an act. “Just clean it up for me, yeah? Be good and clean up your mess.”

You nodded, sliding off his lap and onto your knees on the floor. You leaned in close to his tummy, his dick still hard even after his climax. He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you even closer, then, you started licking him clean, his happy trail tickling your tongue in the best way possible. You swallowed him, over and over again while he moaned softly. You slowly started to run your tongue over his cock, looking up at him with your sweet bedroom eyes. He gasped. He adored having someone suck him off after he's already come. It made him see stars, truly.

“Mmmm… you like this, sweetness? You enjoy cleaning me up after you made such a mess of me?” He cooed again, hands brushing through your hair.

You nodded the best you could while his dick was stuffing your mouth up. God, his sweet whimpers and words of encouragement. They really could kill you.

You swallowed him deeper, closing your eyes, trying your best not to gag. You ended up getting a little carried away, your nose pressed hard into his pubic bone, like a puzzle piece. There was a bulge in your throat. You decided to try something out and stroked it from the outside, looking to see if it did anything for him.

And God, did it do something. He let out a noise you thought was impossible. He was there, on the couch, legs spread, back arched as you were on your knees, sucking from the tap. He pulled your hair tighter- probably not intentionally so hard, but it's not like it didn't turn you on.

You kept at it, closing your eyes, drowning in those growls and whimpers. You'd think he was some sort of slut.

He gasped, and starting fucking into your throat, pretty eyes rolling back, legs shaking. After another few languid strokes, he came down your throat, basking in the way you enjoyed this, just as much as he did.

“Good girl, fuck.. your throat, fuck,. Jesus fucking Christ, angel… so tight, Mmm—!” He babbled mindlessly as you pleasured him. God, he adored you.

Adored you so much that he came down your throat. You choked on it a little, pulling back and clearing your throat. You smiled sweetly up at him, cum dripping down your chin, then kissed the tip of his cock, warranting another little burst of cum to shoot at your face.

“Such a messy eater…” He teased lovingly.

You were in the middle of a reply when he stuffed his cock into your mouth again, holding you there.

“Shhh, princess. Nobody's ever taught you to not speak with your mouth full?” There was a smile on his face. God, was he a vision… Cheeks flushed, hair the messiest you've seen it, hands shaking, stray drops of cum on his pale skin. You started to bob your head, but he stopped you.

“Two rounds of sucking me off in a row? I'm sure you get tired. So tired. How about I just do it for you… keep your mouth around me, and I'll take care of the rest. Is that okay with you, angel?”

You gave him those puppy eyes, humming happily as a way to say “yes”.

“Mmmhm? Okay, then..”

He started to fuck into you, a little bit sloppily, his hips bucking. He was feral, truly. He moved quickly, hyperventilating, a third orgasm threatening to happen at any time. He moved faster, fucking your mouth with a surprising amount of strength for a man that had already come twice.

But it became too much, and you had to pull away to take a breath, warranting a surprisingly bratty whimper for a man acting so dominant.

“Wha- Wha- FUCK,” He belted, shooting cum onto the floor, right onto your moleskin notebook, it wasn’t much, just what was left inside of him after the last two orgasms. Your hand was still wiping your chin, and your mouth fell open.

“Jesus, sorry, I didn't know-”

“I didn't either,” he said, irrationally upset. It took him a bit to calm down. He caught his breath as he leaned back on the couch. You got up and sat next to him, gazing up into his brimmed eyes.

“Andy, you know I wanted to swallow, I really did. I want it…”

He looked back down at you, gaze softening. He leaned to your level, grabbing your chin and opening your mouth, then, moved his head on top of yours and slowly let his spit flow from his lips and onto your tongue. You smiled, a little naughtily, and swallowed. God, that was hot.

“Mmmh.” You hummed.

“That's something to swallow, isn't it?”

He leaned in and kissed your tired lips tenderly, as you tangled into him, ending up a cuddling, naked mess on your—now, filthy couch.

He moved you to lay on his chest while he played idly with your hair, his nose buried in it as well, taking in your scent in the quiet evening. His other hand traced patterns on your back, his fingers dancing carefully over your skin, almost fearing you’d shatter like a porcelain doll just from his touch.

His lips pressed onto your forehead, giving you a soft, affectionate kiss that took your breath away for a second. You looked up at him from his chest, your eyes wide and adoring. “Hi,” he murmured softly, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“Hi,” you responded, making the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“This doesn’t feel real.” He whispered softly, still caressing you with all the love in the world.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I never thought I’d actually get to hold you like this, to have been with you like we have.” He elaborated. “This was always more of a fantasy, I didn’t think it’d be real.”

“What, you thought I didn’t like you like that?” You asked, a bit incredulous.

“I knew you thought I was hot, I’m not stupid, I see how you look at me.” He sighed again, his arms tightening around you, his gaze avoiding yours. “But the… ehm, the extent of just how much you liked me was more than I thought it’d be.”

You smiled softly, your hand playing with his chest hair as you listened to him. His voice was like a melody in and of itself, every word he said a note in the symphony of your dreams.

“It’s just…” He continued, his tone even softer. “It’s like there’s steps to all this, you know? There’s finding someone attractive, then there’s wanting to- ehm, have sex with them, and then there’s just wanting to be with them, in every way possible…” He trailed off.

“Andy. What are you trying to say?” You asked, his eyes immediately focusing on yours the moment you finished your sentence.

“That I love you, angel, I have for a long time.” He finally confessed. You felt his heart speed up in his chest, he was so incredibly nervous.

“I love you, too.” You timidly whispered, then placed a quick, loving kiss on his chest. “You can calm down now, your heart is beating way too fast.” You added teasingly.

“Maybe a proper kiss will calm me down.” He teased back.

You moved carefully, crawling up to his eye level and kissing him deeply. He kissed back almost immediately, your mouths moving in tandem to make the perfect kiss. Andrew pulled back after a few seconds, his mind too crowded with thoughts to fully lose himself in you no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

“Let me take you out on a date, somewhere nice,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb. His voice little more than a lovesick whisper. “If not, at least let me call you mine.”

“Yes, to both.” You smiled, nuzzling your face into his hand.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead. “Sorry to change the topic like this, but I’m exhausted, wanna go to bed?”

You chuckled softly at the change of subject. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.” You argued lovingly.

“I had my fill with you already.”

“Then I guess we can go to bed, but I have to shower first.” You stood up from your cuddling position on the couch, watching Andrew follow suit not long after. “Maybe put a movie on my laptop and we can watch it afterwards?”

You looked up at him with begging eyes while holding his hand in yours, he smiled, he couldn’t say no to you, especially now.

“As you wish, princess.” He took your hand to his lips and kissed it playfully, a small giggle escaping you both. “Any movie in particular you desire to watch, your majesty?”

“Okay, cut it out,” you continued to giggle, “just choose one you like, yeah? I’m gonna shower.”

With that, you went to your bathroom to clean yourself up while Andrew went to your room and set everything up, including cleaning himself as best he could and fixing his messy, post-orgasmic appearance.

You came back from the shower after almost an hour, hair still wet, in comfy sweatpants and a tank top. You made your way to your room, waiting to see your angel. He sat there, in bed, scrolling on his phone, hair up in a messy bun. He looked nothing short of adorable— cleaned up nicely too.

Your laptop was next to him. It seems he'd already chosen a movie, Legally Blonde, for some reason. You sank next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“You like chick flicks?” You asked, with a giggled cadence.

“Nothing short of modern masterpieces, they are.” He replied, starting the movie and letting your body adjust against him. You clicked, your arms the perfect length around his waist, your lips the perfect curve against his, your nose perfectly nesting into his pulse.

You fell asleep first. Fast asleep- not stirring in the slightest. He thought your slight snores and weird murmurs were adorable. He'd much rather fall asleep to those than any movie. He closed the laptop and set it on your bedside table, his long arms holding you tight into the late hours.

He ended up having the best sleep in a while— no thoughts of upcoming concerts or snobby dinners to torment him. You somehow made it all stop. In his busy world, you were his only constant. Something he wanted to hold close to and never let go.

——

Andrew adored your face. He saw it everywhere- the pure beauty of it. He saw your beauty in the Irish hillsides. He heard your voice in every old timey love song. Everywhere, everything, it was always you.

In the early morning, he found himself gazing at you again, a long finger tracing your cheek. He sighed contentedly, completely enamored with you. His limbs tangled further into yours. This went on for about half an hour— his sweet touches and comforting, soft kisses.

Your eyes fluttered open. Your first view of the day was Andrew cupping your cheeks, his head tilted. You smiled dorkily at him, your view still unfocused.

“Morning, sleepin’ beauty” He greeted in that soothing Irish lilt of his. You responded with a groan— giving him the opportunity to scoop you up in his arms, holding you to his chest. You giggled into the firm, warm body.

“Hey!” You grogged. He pulled you even further up, paving a path of smooches along your face, whispering sweet nothings.

“So pretty when you wake up, you know that? Sweet, sweet angel… and you're all mine…” he was getting lost in you, reciting all his best praise while you were barely away from the sandman.

It took a while for you to properly wake up. When the consciousness came, you returned his kisses sloppily, hand coming up to tangle in that messy brown hair.

The kisses got more desperate and messy as you went, desperate to taste each other, to catch up on everything you've missed. You grew a little dominant— even a little frustrated. You rolled him over, warranting a whimper, then pulled away, laying on your side next to him.

“You're so needy in the mornings.”

“Huh?” He whispered hoarsely, looking up at you with half lidded eyes.

“I said you're needy in the mornings. All kisses and sweet words…”

You got onto him, warranting a little ‘oomph’ to squeeze out. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you steadily, groaning as your thigh brushed against him.

You put your thumb in his mouth, slowly grinding and watching as he sucked it at the same pace. The little pacifier kept him quiet, even when you were ruthlessly rutting into his growing hardness.

He looked up at you with shiny eyes before his head tilted to the side, giving you a full view of his beautiful, biteable neck.

You stop grinding for a second. You ached to keep staring into those lovely breaking eyes, “Andy, look up.”

He obediently gazed up at you through thick lashes, mouth biting your thumb a little. You kept going, watching as he tried not to lose his locked stare. His hand moved to your wrist, trying to pull to take your thumb out of his mouth, you shushed him in return, pushing it in a little deeper.

“Keep it in,” you ordered softly, starting to grind on his crotch once more. He listened, lightly biting your thumb to suppress his moans. “That’s it, good boy.” You added in a sultry whisper.

Andrew’s eyes shot open, you felt his dick harden almost immediately, the size poking at you through the layers of clothing. He pulled your thumb out of his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. His hands moved to your waist and threw you onto the bed, making you whimper.

You looked up at him as he moved on top of you, caging you into the mattress with his long arms. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head with just one hand, then pushed his knee between your legs, smiling devilishly at you.

“Grind.” He ordered, his voice stern yet undeniably full of love for you. His thumb found your clit, tracing obnoxiously slow circles over it.

You obediently rubbed against his knee, the dual stimulation of his finger and your actions making your back mold into an arch. You struggled playfully against his grip, moaning softly as your hips moved.

You kept grinding, eventually losing yourself and collapsing onto him. “Awww, that's not all you have in you, is it, baby?” He teased, his grin widening.

“C’mere, let me treat you.” He spoke in a lowered octave, gently nudging you over, as if asking for permission to take you.

You let him guide you over, your eyes hungry, legs wrapping around his waist. He firmly kissed down the side of your face, sinking down to your clavicle, and getting to work, sucking at it for a good few minutes- summoning giggles that quickly turned to moans of pure desperation. When he finally pulled away, what was left of all the sucking and biting was a reddish purple mark that he blew on, the air sending a shiver down your spine.

“Was that okay, darling? I’m sure you have some turtlenecks you can wear for a couple days if you need them.” He continued to kiss down your body, his voice even more rough. “Though I’d rather you didn’t, the idea of you going out with my mark on display is so fucking hot.”

“I work at a library, I can’t just have hickeys on displa— FUCK!” Andrew sucked on your chest, intending to leave another mark while his hand had traveled down to your core again, only to insert two fingers inside you this time, thrusting away any words left in you.

He smiled as he pulled away again, blowing softly on the second mark he’d left, his eyes already scanning your body in search of a spot for the third and fourth ones, all while never stopping his fingers inside you.

His mouth found your tummy just as his thumb found your clit, you moaned loudly, trying to thrust into his fingers but getting stopped by the rest of him on his quest to mark you fully. Not like you’d complain though, you’d be lying if you said the thought of being marked by him all over didn’t turn you on.

The pattern repeated as he went lower, marking your abdomen a few more times while his fingers worked on you, getting you closer to your climax. He sucked on your inner thigh, leaving his last mark on you before replacing his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking on it while he fingered you still. You screamed from pleasure, your hands gripping the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm washing down on you in intense waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and your moans turned into whines, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, almost making out with your clit before sitting back on his heels.

He put his soaked fingers up to your mouth, you welcomed them, sucking off your essence and making Andrew smile. He took one of your legs and put your ankle over his shoulder, straddling your other one in a way that made his cock perfectly align with your entrance. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, trailing them down in a path that connected all your hickeys and continued down your belly, pressing down on the weak spot right under your belly button.

You giggled, batting your lashes up at him. Truly, you wanted him to fuck you until your guts split, and the best way to get that would be to put on the innocent act— one that you had quickly learned was his favourite. Even if he knew it was little more than that.

He rubbed the tip of his cock over your soaked folds, watching as you tried to keep the little act up. And it was hard, when he was there, with his chest hair and stupid smirking pretty face. When his hair was in a side part, tossing every time he made a sudden move.

He pinned you down with his lean arms. He squeezed into you, feeling your pussy envelope him, squeezing around his cock in just the right way. He didn’t take the time to ease you in, quickly building the pace up, gritting his teeth. He fucked the woman he loved the most in the most feral way possible.

You loved this side of him, your body instinctively moving your legs to where he perfectly hit your g-spot with each needy thrust. You abruptly came after a few of these- making that your second orgasm.

But he kept going, and you kept laying there and looking so utterly fuckable. Legs spread, tits bouncing, eyes rolling back every time he hit your sweet spot.

“God, you're such a pretty thing. Wish I could just stay inside you all day, keeping me warm…”

He kept going. At this point, your eyes couldn't even keep open. Your nails dug into his back as he leaned closer to you, little half-crescents engraving into his pale skin. He was close to you now, chest sweat dripping onto your face. You could feel his hot breath and hear his beautiful moans, and feel the spit dripping out of his growling mouth.

You yelped as a strange sensation took you, snapping him out of it. You whined and wrapped your leg, that had now fallen off his shoulder, around his hips, practically begging for him to continue his thrusts. You didn't even notice at first— it was him who pulled out. He felt your squirt soak his dick, biting his lip, slapping his dick lightly to try and drain you as you squirted all over him.

“Jesus… You just do that, love?” He whispered lowly, dripping in shock— still incredibly turned on.

“No! I… I didn’t know I could…” You said softly, still trying to catch your breath.

He laughed and leaned in, kissing your cheek, “Well, I'm glad to be the one to help you find out, Mmm?”

He was silent for a few beats, then placed his hand tenderly on your cheek, “Are you okay? Can I keep going?”

“Please put it back in…” You begged.

He smiled. “As you wish, my love.”

He did exactly that, pushing back into you, getting lost in your body once more. Sweet moans escaping him as he chased his own release.

He felt his balls growing tighter, moaning in almost your key, his hot seed bursting into you. He gave you a big dorky smile, still slowly fucking in and out as his cock started to soften.

Andrew leaned in and kissed your face all over, still buried inside you, feeling your warmth around him, and, slowly, coming back to earth from the heaven that you’d taken him to. Your arms enveloped him lovingly, he melted in your gentle touch, his heart swelling with love for you. His eyes widened in a split second, realisation setting in.

“Shit, baby, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t- christ.” He mumbled apologetically, caressing your face, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear, I didn’t mean to, angel.”

You looked at him, slightly confused as to why he was apologising so much.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, slowly getting your strength back.

“I didn’t put a condom on, I’m sorry, I completely forgot, I’ll go to the store and get you the pill.” He apologised again, his voice threatening to break from the nerves.

“Andy, hey, calm down,” you smiled, caressing his face with one of your hands. “It’s fine, I’m on birth control, stop worrying.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at you with loving eyes. “Thank God,” he chuckled, kissing your lips for a split second, “still, I’m sorry, I should’ve put one on anyway when I didn’t know if you were on birth control or not.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, taking the moment to finally pull out of you, swallowing your soft whines as he did. His cum flowed out of you, the sight of it making Andrew smile darkly. He went to your bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning you up.

“The bed’s wet, love, want me to carry you to mine?” He asked, caressing your cheek with all the tenderness in the world.

You nodded in response, then felt his arms wrap around you and carry you to the guest bedroom he’d been staying in. He laid you on the mattress, you yawned, your legs exhausted. You had to admit, you always got so sleepy after sex. Your exes hated it— but Andrew found it so endearing. He gently tucked you in, kissing your sweat-slick forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, angel. Be a good girl and get some good rest for me. You deserve it.” You reached for him with grabby hands as he threw boxers and a big knit sweater on. He smiled at the sight. “I’ll be back, okay? I just have… something to do. Go to sleep for me. Please, angel.”

So, you— being the sweet, obedient angel that you were, fell asleep after just a few seconds. He got up and washed his messy hands, then got to work on your breakfast. He decided on pancakes. Which he was able to make into somewhat perfect hearts.

He put the pancakes, along with fresh berries, on a platter and brought them in after an hour and a half or so.

He placed them on the bedside table, then gently shook you awake.

“Wake up, love, I made breakfast.” He greeted, like he wasn't deep inside you two hours ago.

You looked up at him with a hazy stare, “You can cook?” You mumbled, looking at the plate.

“Of course I can cook. What other way could I have charmed girls?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, sitting up and placing the heated platter on your lap, “No idea.”

He sat next to you, snacking on some of your berries, watching as you ate. He was possibly the biggest loverboy in the world, obsessed with everything you did.

“What?” You ask, noticing his constant puppylike stare

“I don't want to go back to my house. I want to be like this. For as long as you'll have me.”

God, was he an angel. He really thought you'd grow tired of him?

“Then I think you'll be living in this shitty apartment forever, Andrew.”

“Forever?”

“Or until it finally falls apart and the building collapses on our heads, whatever happens first.” You giggled.

“In that case we could move to mine, then.” He suggested, smiling lovingly. “After the bug problem gets fixed, that is.”

“Be nice to the bugs, technically they’re the ones that brought us together.” You teased, kissing him gently.

“I’ll tell the exterminator to be gentle when killing them.” He teased back, returning the kiss passionately.

[taegimood]

— fate (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff, smut rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.1k warnings: mention of reader’s toxic ex (emotional neglect, abandonment), unplanned pregnancy, body insecurity, pregnancy/breeding kink, brief smut, let’s ignore the questionable timeframe lmao (anyway other than that it’s vv fluffy and soobin is the greenest of green flags >3<)

a/n - this is actually not at ALL what i had originally planned for this concept, it was supposed to just be another one of my lighthearted smutty ramblings (which i might still do in a separate post cuz this concept + soobin’s breeding kink is too juicy for me to pass up lmao) but i like it regardless.. i haven’t done an actual writing piece in ages. this one might be weird tbh lol but i hope you enjoy ~ [written w my lovely @miupow in mind <3]

masterlist

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it had been 12 months since you met the man who you thought would be forever — foolishly, blindly — the memory as bitter as the winter when you first saw him, mistaken then as something sweet.

it had been 10 months since you began to give him everything that he wanted — the body and the heart that you were never one to gift lightly — convinced that it was love, that it meant more in his eyes which you could never truly seem to read (though you always managed to fool yourself that you could).

it had been 6 months since you started doing anything and everything to make him keep wanting you, losing yourself so slowly in the process that you couldn’t even see it until one day suddenly you did.

it had been 3 months since he left you faster than the changing season when you told him the news, a hurricane of empty eyes and venomous words thrown like daggers that left you bleeding…

and it had been 3 months with a baby in your belly when choi soobin came into your life.

this time, the winter was nothing in comparison to the softness of his smile and the sunlight in his eyes when he stepped through that coffee shop door and into your forever.

—

soobin knew from the moment he saw you that you were someone he could see himself falling in love with.

he had no idea what made you say yes when he asked if you would have a cup of coffee with him;

(maybe it was the fact that he tripped and spilled his milkshake all over you while trying not to look like a loser as he passed by your table and then profusely promised to make it up to you and your poor pair of soiled sweatpants);

and he also had no idea what kept your pages closed even as he got to know you, what kind of shadow it was that would pass over your eyes at his compliments or what made you flinch at an accidental touch of your hands —

but he did know that more than anything he had ever wanted,

he wanted to see the smile reach your eyes.

~

falling in love with soobin came easily.

no matter how hard you first tried to fight it, deny it, run from it… it was as if loving him was something that you were simply made to do.

every soft smile, every careful touch, every word a caress as gentle as the breeze on a summer sunrise; every part of soobin slowly began to fill the cracks of your shattered heart with gold.

the day that he found out about the baby was the day that he told you his heart was yours.

“i know it hasn’t been long and i know i may sound crazy, but whatever happens or whatever doesn’t, y/n, i will love this baby, and i will love you.”

if this child’s father was a starless night then soobin was entire galaxies, the warmth and resoluteness in his eyes enough to melt away any claim that that man had left behind, and as far as you two were concerned, this baby’s real father was standing right here at your side.

——

it’s become harder to find room to love yourself these days as the months go on; your growing belly making it difficult to feel attractive, the insecurities that came with those months of feeling unwanted slowly creeping back into your mind and telling you that you’re not enough to make him stay.

logically, you know that your pregnant body is the only body of yours that soobin has so far seen, and of course here he is still wanting you — he proves it almost every night — but regardless you find yourself crippled by doubt and shame.

frowning at yourself in the mirror after every shower, stuck between the bubbling feelings of love for your baby and the guilt of hating how your body looks because of it.

little do you know, soobin has realized something about himself that he never saw coming before:

your pregnant body has him absolutely losing his mind.

he’s never felt so turned on in his life than when he’s got you laid across his sheets in the evenings with the curve of your swollen belly brushing against him as he slowly fucks into you, your tits full and bouncing softly with each thrust, small hands clutching onto him, your face flushed and beautiful and more undone than he’s ever seen it — free to let go of yourself in his arms.

it’s in these moments that he’s convinced he was made to worship your body with everything that he’s got.

soobin is so desperately attracted to every part of you, so determined to pour his love into you as many times as it takes for you to be able to see exactly what he sees every day;

he can’t help himself, can’t keep it in as he ravishes your cunt, the things he moans and whispers like a prayer in your ear enough to send shivers straight down to your core and push you over the edge every time.

you’re so so beautiful, baby, gonna be the most beautiful mama..

he touches you like he’ll never get the chance again.

perfect belly, perfect tits.. wanna fill you up like this, want you pregnant with my babies, f-fuck-

his name falls like a chant from your lips;

wanna give it all to you one day- wanna make you my wife and fill you up all round and pretty- you’re just s-so pretty, bunny, so perfect.

you feel prettier each time you fall apart.

i love your body, love our baby,

‘n i love you,

i love you,

i love you.

and when you ask him one morning if he means those things he always says, watching as a familiar rosy hue dusts across his dimpled cheeks, soobin takes your hand in his and promises you a lifetime.

——

it’s winter — your favorite season.

the air is crisp and full of starlight as you take a deep breath, the world falling quiet when you meet your husband’s eyes.

“the kids are asleep,” he whispers from the doorway,

and you’ve never been gazed at so tenderly.

you think about where you started and where you are now.

it’s been 5 years since choi soobin walked into your life, bringing the glimmering sun along with him.

5 years since he began showing you the meaning of well-kept promises and honest eyes,

of things that last and things that are allowed to be let go.

5 years since you welcomed your first child into your arms

and 3 since you welcomed your second; all beaming smiles and dimples just like her daddy;

and it’s been 12 months since your belly started growing with your third.

as you look down at the sleeping baby in your husband’s arms, every severed string of the past melts into one.

you smile at the boy from the coffee shop.

he smiles back, and soobin has all he’s ever wanted, because he has you —

because finally the smile reaches your eyes,

and he’s home.

[connorsui]

Nanami Kento x fem! Reader || Imagine ||

"A Love Timeless as Morning"

Mornings with Nanami Kento were like waking up to sunlight that clung softly to the horizon, hesitant to break fully, yet determined to illuminate every shadow in its path. He moved about the kitchen with quiet grace, the kind that comes not from haste but from someone who had learned to find joy in the simplicity of life. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, apron tied neatly at his waist—an emblem of his devotion to the little things that meant everything.

And when he greeted you, it was always the same: "Good morning, sweetheart." His voice, a balm to your sleepy soul, resonated like the smooth pour of coffee into a delicate cup. "Darling," he would continue, as though the mere utterance of affection might not be enough for him, as though love could only be contained within a multitude of names. "Beautiful," he murmured with reverence, like the word itself was created solely to describe you. "(y/n) " he added, a softness in his tone that melted over the syllables like warm syrup over pancakes.

His eyes, tender and unwavering, never left you. They held the kind of focus that left you feeling as though you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world. It was in these moments you realized that Nanami’s love was not loud or brash, but constant—steady, like the tick of a clock you never noticed until the room grew silent.

As you sat at the kitchen table, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep, his food before you—a carefully cooked breakfast of eggs, toast, and fruit—felt like an offering, a small piece of his soul made tangible. You took a bite, and he watched, his lips quirking into a satisfied smile, the kind that came not from arrogance but from a deep-seated pride that he had done this for you.

His hand, rough from work but gentle in its touch, reached out to your head, fingers threading through your messy bed hair with an affection that was more instinct than conscious thought. "You’re a mess," he teased, though his voice held no real criticism—only a profound joy in seeing you just as you were. His thumb grazed your temple, smoothing away the last remnants of sleep, as if to ensure you woke up fully in the light of his gaze.

Nanami looked at you as though you were a dream that had come to life—a dream he feared waking from but cherished in every waking moment. His smile, ever rare to others, came so easily to you. It was a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes, a fleeting expression of pure contentment that he only ever showed in the privacy of these mornings.

There you were, in his clothes—his shirt hanging loosely on your frame, sleeves too long, but perfectly right in every way that mattered. There you were, in his home, the apartment no longer a sterile refuge from the world but a haven, alive and warm, because you were in it. And there you were, eating the breakfast he had cooked, the simplest act made extraordinary because it was you who received it.

You glanced up from your plate to meet his gaze, and the air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken but deeply understood. You were everything he had ever wanted, and the realization of that dream, the very fact that you were here, was enough to fill him with a quiet, profound joy.

He cupped your cheek then, tilting your face toward him. "I believe I am living a dream with you," he whispered, his voice heavy with sincerity. "Do you know that?" The weight of his words was soft, but they lingered, settling deep within you like the warmth of the morning sun through an open window. "You bring me everything I could have ever desired"

In that moment, you were certain: Nanami Kento’s love was like the sunrise itself. Not hurried, not sudden, but inevitable. Quiet, yet brilliant in its constancy. His love had always been waiting for you, patient and persistent, ready to fill the world with light as soon as you opened your eyes to it. And now, with each morning, with every touch, every pet name that left his lips, his love grew only stronger, richer, deeper—a love as timeless as the dawn that greeted you both each day.

I just need a soft morning with this man

[ch3rrybbie]

Need.

Randall Kirkland x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

———

Summary: You can’t seem to stay away from Randall, you’re yet to speak and he can’t stop staring. Why do you feel like you know him? What does he want? What do you need?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, masturbation, smutty daydreams, y/n is stubborn asf.

Note from author: Hi there! Tysm to the love on the snippet I put out, I just randomly write it and decided to share it and I’m so glad I did lol. I hope this lives up to what yall were expecting and I hope you enjoy. I will deffo probs write more for Randall and other fandoms so drop requests( hopefully Ik them). Also this is basically my first ever fic and time writing smut so pls be nice and I hope it’s not too bad lmao😭😭😭

———

You’d been in town for four months now. And as much as a hell hole as it could and would prove itself to be you were thankful for the reprieve from the outside world. You’d come alone on a post college road trip looking for something anything as to what your life should be as to who you would be. Then came the crows the tree and the bogeymen in the woods.

———

Life soon became mundane, wake, work eat sleep repeat. You’d decided to live in town and not colony house,your double bed becoming a lifesaver through those long cold nights. Whilst your house didn’t have the charm of your dorm or home bedroom you tried your best. Forgoing fairy lights and band posters you supplemented with writing down song lyrics and crudely drawn flowers on the walls you were no artist but it was something to look at before the whispering and tapping got too loud and you reverted back to tucking your head under the covers, knowing all that kept you from them was a rock loosely strung on the door.But you spent your fair share of time at colony house helping rule the roost with Donna and she’d grown to love you fiercely like a daughter and it kept you going.

The day the bus arrived,the day he came,was almost alike any other. You woke at sunrise to help Tian Chen with opening the diner after Sara’s…retirement. You were wiping down the tables when you saw it through the windows. The bus had lazily rolled in and heaved to a stop right outside the diner and you saw him swing off its disgruntled steps. Tall, toned with a buzzed head and a face like thunder you mused to yourself. But there was something maybe lust or the delirious state the town caused, something tugged you to him. A feeling that you should go let him know you were there, an obligation.

You heaved the thought down, as unpleasant as swallowing bile.

———

Upon Kenny’s command you resigned yourself to ushering in the bus folk. Your eyes caught Donna’s and with it you passed a sympathetic glare you hoped she understood its messaging-“I’m sorry you have to go this again but don’t be too much of a bitch with them”.

Most of them were heartwarmingly lovely to a point your heart broke, they didn’t know the fate that had befallen them.The pain and suffering they were yet to face. You remembered exactly how each and every second felt and resorted to flittering around helping how you could, making sure their steaming cups of herbal tea were always brimming. As you were filling an old lady’s second cup you heard a gunshot go off.

Your world span. Ears ringing you dropped the cup it’s shatter giving music to your pounding steps as you burst out the diner.

“Donna?!” you yelled praying she’d be able to answer.

“I’m fine sweetie but hold the door” she casually threw back her eyes trained on someone, gun pushed into their chest.

Burning heat arose as he turned his head, his furrowed brows lifting as soon as he saw you a confused look replacing his disgruntled one. He cocked an eyebrow, as if to say you know this crazy bitch??? You ignored him and felt envy flush over you as you watched Ellis and Fatima run off hand in hand after escaping bus passengers.

You wondered if you’d ever have someone that would run with you into danger without a second thought.

You begrudgingly followed Donna’s request ushering the last of the bus strangers into the diner hoping the simulated warmth would numb the fear of the tapping and whispering yet to come.

Donna kept him for last seemingly keeping a close eye on him gun nudging him periodically. Time seemed to slow the closer he got, his stature seemed to exaggerate with his hands strung loosely in the air, a sarcastic surrender. He was surprisingly stocky, muscles taught as his agitation grew stronger.

Your eyes once again locked and your breath caught in your throat. A spark lit within your stomach and spread all throughout you. He had a similar lust struck gaze yet his eyes never left yours,never once walked across your body.

You snapped your head away.

Donna incredulously looked between the two of you and shoved him into the diner. You dared not to turn and look for him in the sea of strangers. And yet that did nothing to quell you swelling desire, you felt it cresting, waiting to come crashing down.

It was going to be a long night.

———

As soon as the sun streaked through the windows you legged it out of there citing a lack of sleep. Which was true you felt his gaze on you the whole night and you hadn’t looked once.

———

It’d been a few days since you’d had your weird eye fuck with the stranger from the bus. Randall, as you’d come to find out and you’d vowed to push aside all thoughts of him and refusing to even use his name although your only danger of using it was at night when your convictions stuttered and were only quelled by toe curling thoughts of him.

Issue was he did anything but ignore you. He was everywhere.

He was at colony house arguing with Donna. He was atop the bus staring down all who dare walk past. Hell he was even occasionally scoffing his face in the diner. And yet you avoided him, not a single word uttered yet he had your heart hitching.

His staring persisted despite your avoidance. It seemed to only make him hungrier to see you.

You found yourself slipping into thoughts of what he smelt, tasted and fucked like.

Thoughts. That was all you could have.

No more.

———

You were trudging up to colony house after a late night drinking with Jade, in summary you lost your bet of out drinking him and he soon was let in on your little secret. But you trusted him. The only person you could never tell was looking at you a face like thunder. Your confusion clouded your perception and failed to see Randall him marching away from Donna.

Your breath caught in your throat as he got closer, you felt exposed. It was a balmy spring day so you’d sported jeans and a tank top thinking nothing of it. He finally let his eyes slip down your body, staring greedily, seemingly committing it to memory.

You’d reprimand him if you weren’t doing the same.

He wore a white tank with an open t shirt strung on top, his jeans tight in all the right places. You were about to look at his arms again before the muscle in his jaw clenched harder and he barrelled on.

Donna loomed at the top of the porch steps a face like thunder. And yet she didn’t care to rant about the backend of the altercation you saw.

Shit.

“You greenhouse now” she spat.

Fuck.

She shut the door behind the two of you with a slam so you opted to give your now peace offering, “Look here’s the bulb I told you about I think it’s gonna look great with the-“.

“Honey, we all have needs and wants I understand that but HIM?!” she flung out incredulously hands on hips. With your face a mixture of horror and confusion she continued “I saw the way you two looked at each other that first day at the diner and I’m sure you’ve done more than look since, hell what was that just now?!”

God you wished.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Donna nothings happened, and as far as I’m concerned nothing will”

Her shoulders sagged and she sighed, “Good , you deserve someone better than him”

You cringed at that. Was he that bad?

“Now show me my beautiful new tulip bulb” she proclaimed.

———

Donna’s comment had been bouncing around your head for days alongside seeing less of Randall him, tension was building.

Yesterday you spied him working on a truck and couldn’t help but walk closer. He Sported the same white tank that exposed this thick corded arms. He’d grunted as he’d rolled himself under the truck. Jeans straining to contain him, legs spread. Arms straining with force. You imagined what it’d be like to even sit on his lap clothed, how good you’d feel.

How good you could make him feel.

You’d pictured him taking you pressed against the hood of the truck. Skirt flipped up, exposed for all to see. Tits bare and pebbling against the cold harsh metal. He’d stroke you first you were sure, then he’d fuck his thick cock into you. Uniting pain and pleasure,he’d make you taste yourself on his thick calloused fingers as he took you for all to see.

The day dream vanished as you watched a girl from colony house , Lola? Lila?, walk up to him and hand him water as he rolled out from under the truck.

Your heart dropped and an amassing wave of disappointment came over you. Albeit foolishly , you’d thought his attention had been solely concentrated on you and not whoever would reciprocate it.

You turned walked home before he could see you.

That night you couldn’t help but call his name as you came to the thought of him working on his truck.

———

The last place you could think of being alone was the woods, I mean your bedroom was the other but your thoughts couldn’t be controlled there as you’d realised last night.

After seeing him with the girl from colony house your conviction became stronger. And you decided to strengthen it alone in the woods the last thing you needed was to see him.

You started your descent into the peace, the trees were lush with greenery and swayed welcomingly. It was a thick, sweaty day. Your sundress swung as you walked providing the cool breeze you needed.How funny, you were trapped in a hellish town full of monsters human and other and yet it was so beautiful. Flowers were starting to sprout up through the dense leaves of the forest floor and you couldn’t help but be entranced. The less funny part was who your brain was obsessed with happened to be who you had decided was the resident fuck boy.

“Hey”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart pounded in your chest knowing the monsters wouldn’t be so polite. Your eyes were snatched up from the forest floor to all six foot of him lazily leaning across a tree. Same tank top and jeans as your daydream. He must be on break from working on his truck.

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK. He looks good.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” He inquired.

You awkwardly shuffled and looked around.

“Sorry forgot everything is secret here, you smoke?” He asked coolly

Taken by surprise you chuckled, “uhhhh yeah before, well you know” you gestured around you.

He hummed cigarette already between his teeth.in one slick motion he’d lit it and started steadily approaching you taking a drag. He lazily held it to you.

You leant forward not breaking eye contact as hou took a drag, cigarette still between his fingers. You could’ve sworn he swallowed harshly, but the moment was cut short as you spluttered and coughed.

It’d been awhile since you’d last smoked.

He laughed heartily and his hand slipped to your back stroking and patting till your coughing seized. His hand awkwardly retracted and you longed for its warmth to grace you again. He attempted to strike up a conversation again before seeming to change his mind, lips pressing back together.

They looked soft.

He had always seemed so sure of himself how strange you mused to yourself.

“I’ve seen you staring at me” you burst out, regretting it as soon as it fled you lips. So much for secrecy.

He chuckled caught aback then grew somewhat serious taking another drag, “You like it?”

“No” you lied through your teeth

“Really?” He smirked.

He paused, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you looking back sweetheart”

He looked satisfied with his own reply slowly walking back shrugging and once again leaning against the tree.

He smiled a boyishly handsome grin,took a longer drag taking in your shocked face.

SWEETHEART?! Really, he truly was a fuck boy then huh.

You once again lost control of you mouth, “I don’t think your colony house girlfriend would be too happy about you calling me sweetheart” you spat.

He coughs out smoke unable to stop himself from laughing,“ Who?” he laughs.

You refuse to let his facade get to you, not helping him with the answer.

His confusion blends back into another stupid smirk, “Oh, Laine?” He chuckles, eyes narrowing to gauge your reaction.

Laine? You think to yourself, what a stupid name. Lame Laine. EW! no you refuse to fight some random girl over him. He didn’t belong to you.

As much as you wanted him to.

Your eyes flicked back to his and something seemed to cross his face. His eyes darkened.

He knew. He knew you wanted him.

He slowly approached.

“You still want some?”, he asked. Gesturing to the cigarette.

He read your apprehension and said something that was dizzying to you.

“I could shotgun you” he she shrugged eyes not leaving yours. Unable to speak you nodded… a little too enthusiastically and he smirked. You could’ve sworn his eyes darkened.

He tilts your head up softly but as firm as needed to align your lips to his, all that separated you was air. With bated breath loosening unwillingly out your mouth in a sigh, your were lips parted in anticipation. Something he seemed to be unable to mock his face sporting the same intense stare as if he could unfurl your lips and drive you over the edge of what you weren’t sure madness pleasure?. Slowly, softly he blew the smoke into your mouth and you felt so intensely in need of him that it didn’t feel like breathing him in, it simply felt like breathing whole for the first time. It felt as natural as anything being this close needing him there needing him anywhere on you or near you. His fingers felt nice but the searing want shared silently was a feeling like no other. It radiated beyond magnetism. Staring at each other no longer held challenge but you were looking, truly seeing each other for the first time beyond the facade beyond this bodies you didn’t need to scratch the itch of knowing the conclude something. You’d know him before.

You breathed in the smoke he blew, eyes not breaking from his. His pupils were blown and it was your time to smirk. If you didn’t know before you knew now.

He wanted you too.

You blew out the smoke as slowly as you could. His eyes fixated on your lips.

He looked entranced.

His hand still cupped your jaw, his thumb coming up to glide across your lower lip. Smoke gone, you pulled his thumb into your mouth and sucked. His eyes once again met yours. “Fuck” he breathed out.

It was your turn to tease him. You spied the cigarette. It’s sweet red cherry still burning, you decided whatever was about to happen was going to burn like that.

Fast and hot.

Fuck it you thought.

You took it from his fingers, he was still entranced.

You breathed it in slowly and pushed on your toes to meet his face. Your tits brushed his chest. Your noses skimmed. His hands dropped to grip your hips and they bunched up the material of your dress. Surprisingly slowly but surely your lips softly bumped and grazed each other and you blew out the smoke. He didn’t breathed it in, so puzzled you stayed like that eyes locked till neither of you could bear it any longer.

He snapped out of the trance.

Your lips crashed together desire encompassing you heat moving lower. He smelt like pine and sea air and sweat and smoke and oil.

He tasted salty. His lips were soft.

It was almost all too delicious.

Almost.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as his hand smoothed up your back to hold your head and pull you in further. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up easily. He grinned into you as the kisses grew hot and sloppy.

Your back hit a tree and the friction between you started to give you much needed release. He started pushing his hardening crotch into yours. He broke the kiss, “I knew you wanted me” he leered. “Shut up” you groaned and seized his lips back to yours.

His lips start to wander sucking your neck and finding the spot that made you push out a lengthened moan, legs attempting to pull him in further.

“Fuck you needed this almost as much as me huh baby” he croons as his hand slithers from your waist. It skims up your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. It reaches your tit feeling its weight even inside your bra. His hand snakes in and is surprisingly cold, you hiss. “Awe is it cold baby” he mocks as he smooths his thumb over your pebbling nipple, his eyes flick to yours. “Huh baby?”, he pinches and rolls your nipple to elicit an answer. “Fuck yes” you hiss, your hips jerking even further into his.

You pull his face back to yours with both hands, teeth clashing wantonly as you kiss him viciously. He moans breathlessly , gasping and moaning as your hand slips to press against the outline of his hard cock. It’s as big as you thought.

“Tell me what you need baby” he begs, his grip on your hip tightening. You refuse to answer, smirking. He grabs your hand from his crotch and pushes his bulge into your underwear covered crotch. You throw your head back against the trunk and your moans come out as hums through your clamped lips. “Come on baby tell me what you need”.

A vision of you knelt before him flashed into you mind. And you grew wet. Going down on someone sometimes felt submissive, degrading even. But with him the idea of teasing and controlling him whilst knelt before him. You needed it.

You pushed him away and he lowered you to your feet looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry did I do something that-”

You cut him off by sinking to your knees and open palm sliding down his front and down his clothed thighs. You applied more pressure the closer to his crotch you got.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, “Is this okay baby?” You crooned.

“Yes” he breathed out.

You took your time.

Unbuckling his belt and sliding it out, you kissed the outline of his cock in his jeans before unzipping and sliding them down. You made quick work of his boxers and there he was.

As big as you thought, bigger even. The head of his cock was burning red and seeping with precum.

Oh he was aching for you.

How many nights had he fisted his cock to images of you?

You trace a finger over the seeping head and he hisses. You smirk, “is that sensitive baby?”. You do it again and he moans long and deep. You trace a finger down the thick veins and caress his balls and he rewards you with a needy “please baby”.

You lean forward on your knees and kiss the tip. Kiss the shaft and lick your way down to his aching balls. You return you attention to the seeping head continuing to kiss is gently allowing the kisses to get sloppier. His hips jerk towards you and you indulge him. His burning tip slips into your mouth and you lower it till your nose brushes against his lower stomach. You keep your rhythm soft and slow and he melts into you. His moans must be reaching the town by now and you hoped that colony house girl heard. You started to increase your suction and go faster and he pulls you off him. You release him with a lavicious pop.

He tucks himself back into his jeans and you stand there unsure until he surges down tasting himself on you. He backs you up against a tree and drops onto a knee. Both of his hands snake up your legs lifting your dress and stroking your wet heat over your panties. He kisses your thighs and licks a thick wet stripe over your clothed clit. He tugs your pants down maintaining eye contact as he spits onto your bare gleaming pussy. He kisses you clit achingly soft and begins to lick and kiss building your already approaching orgasm. You begin to gyrate against his now gleaming face. His now hot calloused hand rubs your clit and he pulls away and just stares at you. His confidence vanquished, his face desperate to watch you come. He dives back and guides two finger into your heat and curls them perfectly. Your loud breathing transforms into moans uncaring of who might hear. He hums into your aching pussy seemingly encouraging you. White hot heat encases you everything goes numb as you come around his knuckle deep fingers, pussy spasming. He watches your face contort in pleasure and continues his ministrations carrying you through.

Your breathing stills and he rises lifting his fingers to your lips, letting them sink into your awaiting mouth. You plead to be able the touch him and he smiles and kisses you full of need. “Please touch me again baby” he moans wantonly. You needed to see him come. Your hands slid down his front and once again released him. You stroked him firmly, the head of his cock an even brighter red and was pouring pre come. He was close. Your lips lunged for his and you tugged his cock harder. His moans became louder, breathing harsher as he spurted hot and harsh against your bare stomach and pussy. Your hand was covered and his face was serene. This was way more delicious than a daydream.

———

You were both bashful as you helped each other dress. Cheeks flushing as he pulled up your panties and gently tugged your dress down, you’d stopped him from wiping his come away and his confidence sprouted back. “You want something to remember this by?” He jested. “You wish” you spat back, you both knew what he said held truth.

The bell sounded in the distance.

“Come on I’ll walk you back”, he tugged your hand putting you in front of him and nudged you towards the edge of the forest. Was it to put a barrier between you and those things? No, you wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking he cared. If he cared he’d of asked you out or something along those lines. Right?

You made it back in time. “This is me” you awkwardly shrugged. You both waited for the other to speak.

You broke the silence.

“Randall, look you don’t owe me anything I get it this was nothing. I won’t tell Laine and you can go back to persuing her”.

“Y/N, me and Laine are-“ he started

You cut him off. You couldn’t bare to hear it.

“I just needed a release from whatever weird tension we had, I get it seriously no need to explain”

He looked stunned and started to frown. But he quickly masked it with a careless gaze.

Your eyes narrowed, “thanks for walking me back I guess”

“Yeah yeah , anytime”

He turned to abruptly leave.

You wanted him to stay, your bed would bed would be so warm with him. The thought made your heart skip.

“Randall wait!”

He turned

“Get home safe”, you deflated as you were unable to ask him to stay. As if he’d want to.

His swagger returned, “Don’t worry about me too much sweetheart” he smirked.

He laughed at you rolling your eyes as he strolled away.

———

Why did him walking away hurt so much? Why did you feel like you knew him?

“Fuckkkkk”, you hissed as you slid down your door. Had you fucked him in college? No,no surely not you’d shamefully remembered every drunken fight and embarrassingly bad one night stand. Then how could you possibly know him? You didn’t know but it was almost certain he remembered and the one whiteclaw too many was the culprit as to your forgetting. How could you forget a connection like that it almost felt cosmic. God now you really sounded like a colony house hippy dippy idiot.

[mnmpopcorn]

BEAUTIFUL BOY !!

featuring you, toji, & baby megumi.

The quiet hum of the evening settled over the small apartment, a gentle warmth embraced the space, painting a soft golden glow as the sun dipped below the horizon. Toji Fushiguro leaned against the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands. He watched as you sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by colorful toys and the very essence of innocence that was your little boy, Megumi.

He chuckled softly as Megumi scooped up his crayons, a determined look plastered across his face as he tried to color inside the lines of a not-so-straight outline on a sheet of paper. Your gentle cooing encouraged him, your voice a soothing balm that made the chaos of the world outside dissipate.

"Look, Daddy!" Megumi called, his tiny fingers smudged with blues and greens. The pride in his voice shimmered, illuminating even the shadowy corners of Toji's soul. He set his tea down and knelt to be at his son’s eye level.

"That’s amazing, buddy," he said, ruffling Megumi’s hair affectionately. A radiant smile broke across Megumi’s face, brighter than any sunrise Toji had ever witnessed. It was moments like these that made everything worth it, even in a life that often felt engulfed in darkness.

As you joined them, your presence infused the room with a sense of calm. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, watching the two of them with that soft, all-knowing gaze that made Toji’s heart ache.

“Mommy, look!” Megumi exclaimed, proudly displaying his artwork. Your eyes lit up with delight, and Toji couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you both, knowing how beautiful it was to see such joy unfold right before him.

Yet, amid the laughter and tenderness, a shadow lingered at the edges of Toji’s heart. The whispers from the past, the weight of responsibilities, the darkness he often grappled with—these were shadows that he tried to keep at bay for the sake of your family. The world outside raged on, but here, within the confines of your home, he wanted to capture that purity, to preserve these fleeting moments of happiness.

As night fell and the stars sprinkled themselves across the sky, Toji found himself in the small nursery with you, as you gently lulled Megumi to sleep. The boy snuggled in a cocoon of blankets, his tiny breaths even and rhythmic. You brushed your fingers against his cheek lovingly, a gesture that might have seemed simple to others, yet in it lay the profound love and hope of a thousand dreams.

Toji leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold before him, heart swelling with an indescribable mix of emotion. Before he could process his thoughts, you caught his gaze and smiled softly, an unspoken bond tethering you both in that moment.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" you whispered, voice barely a breath.

"Yeah," Toji replied, a lump forming in his throat. “He really is.”

Yet even as he found solace in the warmth of the moment, dread seeped into the crevices of his heart. Any turbulent storm could crash through their fragile peace at any moment. Your life together, filled with laughter and unfiltered joy, was a treasure he never wanted to lose, but the weight of his past felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

"Toji," you spoke, breaking his thoughts, "What’s on your mind?"

He hesitated. There was such beauty in this ordinary moment, yet he’d always been taught that nothing good came without a price. "I just… I want to make sure we’re all right. That he’s safe. I’ve seen what’s out there." His voice was thick like molasses, tinged with regret and resolve.

You stepped closer, your presence like a lighthouse in tumultuous waters. “We’ll be okay. You’re here.”

“That’s the thing,” he rasped, struggling with the lump in his throat. “I can’t promise that forever.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for something unspoken. “Toji, you’re not alone in this. We have each other, and we have him. That’s what matters.”

He sighed, the doubt still lingering. “I just… wish I could give you the life you deserve. You both deserve so much more.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips, the one that could light up the darkest corners of his heart. “What I deserve is the life we have now. This. You, Megumi… it’s beautiful, it’s perfect in its own way.”

The bittersweetness of your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket and pierced through the shadows haunting him. But the fear remained—a specter lurking in the recesses of his mind, whispering doubts he couldn’t silence.

With a heavy heart, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and Megumi’s crib. “Promise me we’ll always be this happy. That I’ll always be here.”

You nestled into his embrace, your body fitting against his like pieces of a puzzle. "I promise. As long as we stay together, whatever happens, we’ll find a way. You and me, forever.”

In that moment, as the stars twinkled above, Toji realized that despite the uncertainty looming in his life, the love surrounding him was a beacon, guiding him through the darkness—like the gentle melody of a lullaby, bittersweet yet undeniably beautiful, just like his beautiful boy.

[satorusugurugurl]

Never Have I Ever

Summary: A heated game of Never Have I Ever at a Halloween Party you reveal secret; one Suguru wants to fix!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, edging, dom/sub, orgasm denial, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Kinktober day Twenty-Five: Overstim (F!receiving!)! This turned out way longer than I anticipated but I’m not going to complain! 🤤

“Never have I ever had Yaga lecture me.” A symphony of groans and curses fills the living room as a majority of your friends either put a finger down or take a drink of their alcohol of choice.

“Fuck you, Nanamin!” Gojo yelled from across the room, holding up two remaining fingers.

This had started as an innocent Halloween party. You and your closest friends all got together to watch scary movies. But The Conjuring played in the background as you and the others sat in a circle. The game had started off mild like most of these do, but now everyone was out for each other's throats, and you were feeding off the chaos with every passing second.

“Alright, who's next?” Satoru asked, glaring around the room. “Since it’s clearly pick on Gojo Satoru Day!” Several pairs of eyes focused on him. Haibara looked at his three remaining fingers while Shoko held up her nearly empty cup, her cheeks flushed. Suguru scoffed, motioning to the empty cup next to him. “Oh, shut up! You assholes are out to get me!”

“Says the guys who said never have I ever smoked.”

“Never have I ever swallowed a cursed spirit.”

“Never have I ever had an emo-inspired haircut.”

One would have thought getting called out like that would have embarrassed anyone else. Instead, Satoru smirked, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his pristine white hair. The man had no shame.

“Yeah, and all of those were great!” He glanced around the room, cerulean eyes locking on you. “Yo, your turn!”

The faintest hint of a sinister smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sat your cup down. You had one that would get a majority of, not all, of your friends to take a drink or place another finger down. You straightened your back and sat up straight.

“Never have I ever had someone perform oral sex on me!” Grinning triumphantly, you leaned back in your chair, watching as all your friends groaned and flipped you off. The realization of what you had just said sank in after they downed their drinks and put their fingers down.

“Oh—honey.” Shoko grimaced with a sympathetic look.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’ve never had someone go down on you?!” Nodding your head, you grinned like an idiot as you put your hands behind your head. “Oh, you poor innocent girl.” Suguru stood up, his cheeks flushed. I think you should put a finger down for that,” Satoru said, looking away.

The rest of your friends made similar sounds of sympathy. All except Suguru, who spread his legs wide, violet eyes narrowing with a sly smirk. “You should let me help you with that, Princess.” Everyone grew silent, eyes going wide as you flushed, but didn't deter from his comment. Instead, you learned to forward yourself, swirling the tequila sunrise in your cup. Maybe it was the alcohol running through your veins, but you felt a certain confidence brewing inside of you.

“You seriously think you can handle me, Suguru?”

“I think the real question is,” he reached over and grabbed the bottom of the barstool you were sitting in before dragging you towards him. “Can you handle me?”

“Well, there’s only one way for us to find out.”

The silence in the room shattered like glass on the floor. Your friends all screamed in protest while some handed each other money. But their words and actions did not affect you as you stared longingly into each other's eyes.

“Please don't start fucking in front of us.” Satoru barked out before looking around. “Someone else goes! Before these two start mauling each other.”

Luckily for Satoru, you and Suguru didn't get down and dirty right there in the living room. You had the courtesy to wait until everyone was watching the movie or in the kitchen before you dragged your best friend down the hallway to his room. Once you made it inside, Suguru kicked the door shut with his foot. His large hands reached up, cupping your face as he kissed you roughly.

His tongue slid past your lips and immediately found your tongue. Your tongues moved and wrestled against each other, fighting you for control over the kiss as Suguru began pushing you back. You allowed him to take the lead, gasping out as the back of your legs hit his bed. This didn't feel awkward or weird for either of you. If anything, it felt right. This was months in the making. The subtle flirting, longing touches, both you and Suguru had wanted this for so long.

You came back to reality as Geto pushed you back, causing you to fall into the mattress. His thick fingers immediately began working at your jeans. Thumb and forefinger unbuttoning then as you watched his lilac eyes go darker with lust, but even when clouded with lust, he paused.

“You okay with this?” He asked, giving you a sharp look as if he had made sure you were okay with this.

“Yeah, I’m okay; I'm so fucking okay with this.”

With your permission, Suguru made quick work of your pants, yanking them down your legs. “How in the fuck has no one eaten you out?” He instantly began kissing the insides of your thighs, his teeth grazing your skin. “That’s fucking unbelievable; I’ve been dying to taste you for years.”

“My exes were assholes. What can I say?” Both of you moved in sync; you lifted your hips, allowing Suguru to pull your panties down without asking. “So what took you so long to make a move? You just wanted to taste me that bad?”

As Suguru trailed open-mouthed kisses along the insides of your thighs, he looked up at you as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. “Oh—I was nervous.” There was a passionate and fiery gaze in his eyes, one full of need and lust, “But now that it’s out in the open, it looks like I have a lot of making-up to do.” He came face to face with you, your dripping pussy, blowing out a hot breath against your sensitive pussy. “God, you smell so fucking good.” With that, his kiss-swollen lips sealed out your cunt before gently sucking at it.

You arched off the bed, gasping as he pinned your hips down with his large hands holding you still as his tongue darted out, licking at your slit. His tongue was so fuvking warm and wet along your throbbing core, teasing your damp folds gently. You squirmed, gasping softly; your fingers gripped the sheets as your wide eyes were transfixed on the ceiling. Suguru couldn't help but notice how cute you looked, in awe at the sensations you felt. And he had barely just begun. You yelped out in surprise as his black-painted fingers spread your pussy apart, gently licking at your entrance a few times before slowly trailing the tip of his tongue up to your clit.

God, you thought your vibrator was amazing, but this was some holy fucking shit. Geto Suguru was better than any vibrator you had ever used. And you had the luxury sucking one! One of your hands gripped at his bedding while the other shot up and was tangled in the long, silky strands of his glorious hair. His tongue traced circles, letters, and even fucking stars against your swollen and throbbing clit.

A thin layer of sweat started coating your half-naked body. You felt hot, almost too hot, as the pleasure slowly began to build and grow deep inside your abdomen. Your thighs began to shake as you cried out, writhing in the bed underneath you. You felt like the pleasure was almost too much for you to handle. It was as if you were losing control of yourself.

But Suguru had you under his complete and total control. He wasn't letting you go; he wouldn't let you pull away from the greatest pleasure you were experiencing. No, this man held you tight against his mouth, keeping you right on the edge of an intense orgasm. Suguru lapped at your cunt until you were screaming his name. You feel like you're almost there! So close!

“S-Sugu! I-I’m about to—!” But just as you're about to cum, he lets up. His tongue slows as he smirks against your sex. “Sugu!” you pout, rocking your hips against his face. “Please.”

“Mm, I like it when you say please like that.” He cooed before sliding his tongue down, teasing your entrance. “Keep it up, and I might let you cum next time.”

He doesn't even give you time to protest as he shoves his tongue inside of you. It kicks and laps at your tight, gummy walls as you whimper and cry out, heels digging into the bed as he works on you. Everything he does has you gasping, moaning, and screaming his name. Suguru can't help but growl as you hear his name on your tongue. It makes him more eager as he presses his face closer against your sex. His tongue pushed further inside of you. As his nose brushed over your clit. Suguri groans as he rubs his face side to side as you grip his hair.

“F-Fuck!” You yell as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge for a second time, “Sugu! I’m close, so fucking close!”

Suguru sighs, looking up at your body, violet eyes landing on yours as he somehow manages to pull himself away from your dripping, throbbing core. “Not yet.”

You cry out in protest, but your cries of frustration suddenly turn into moans of pleasure as Suguru’s thumb begins circling your clit as he presses his tongue up, rubbing it expertly over your g-spot with precise accuracy. Your clit twitches as you feel him speed up and slow down, teasing you. It's like he begins working you up to the most amazing orgasm, but he denies you the right to it every time you draw near it.

The pleasure is almost too much at this point. Your inner walks are throbbing painfully, as your clit practically screams in protests as Suguru seals his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking on it. You're a shaking mess of flesh underneath him. Fingers tugging his hair as you grind your hips into his face was pure desperation. You've never wanted to cum so bad in your life. No one has ever made you feel so good in the entirety of your whole existence.

Suguru was doing just as well as you, which wasn't good at all. He was holding onto you, digging his face as close to your sex as he could. He grumbled and growled into you as he savored your sweet, tangy taste. He couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more; he wanted all of you. He loved the way you smelt, tasted, and rocked against him. Suguru wanted this to last, but as he looked up to meet your gaze, he was met with a teary glance.

“P-Please! Nnngh! Fuck! Please, I want to cum! I want to cum so bad!”

God, when you begged so prettily like that, how was it even possible to deny you? “Do it; I want you to come on my tongue, Princess.” He gave in, grinding his hip harder into the mattress; his tongue slid back inside of your heat, licking eagerly inside of you before those licks turned into eager lapping furiously at your throbbing walls.

“O-Oh fuck Sugu! Suguru fuck I-I’m c-cum—!!” You barely get to finish what you were going to say as the orgasm hit you and him at the exact times you arched your back off the bed as grunted, his nose brushing against your clit as his hips still, cum painting the inside his boxers, which he could care less about. Because hearing him, seeing, and feeling him cum sends you over the edge again.

You scream his name as you throb around his still-moving tongue. Your body is trembling and shaking as the orgasm slams into you. Suguru weakly grips your hips holding them still as he continues to fuck you with his mouth. And your best friend doesn't let up till your back hits the mattress, and your panting and gasping for air is completely spent. He releases you from his grasp and pulls away, licking at the evidence of your orgasm that coats his mouth and chin.

“So, how was getting eaten out for the first time?” He nonchalantly questions plating kisses and leaving hickeys all over your thighs.

“It was fucking amazing,” You breathe out, sitting up to look at him. “We should do that again.”

“Oh, we are most definitely doing that again. I'm also going to take you on a date like I've wanted.”

Relief settles over you like a warm blanket on a cool autumn day. “Good! You push strands of his hair out of his eyes. “Next time, I get to suck you off~.”

“Mmm, I love the sound of that.”

“And next time, I wanna sit on your face.” Suguru blinks once, opening his mouth to speak before he snaps it shut as a deep growl rises from his chest. It all happens so fast, Suguru hooks his arms under your thighs as he flips you both around so his back is flat on the bed and your pussy is right there in his fast. “Holy shit Suguru!”

“I don't want to wait for next time.” He growled, grabbing your hips and forcing your oversensitive sex right on his greedy, eager tongue.

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