#the white lotus smut

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Sweet revenge

Pairing: Valentin x reader (female)

Authors note: this is me processing the S3E5 of The White Lotus.

Warnings: SMUT 18+. I keep thinking of Valentin as a dom, I don't by his polite smile. Even if I usually enjoy dom reader more, with him it just doesn't work. 😅 So sub/dom vibes, slight degradation, oral m receiving, fingering, p in v

Word Count: 5,4 K

Summary: your marriage is a farce, your husband ignores you, and you are fed up with this mundane existance of being simply unseen until a certain sexy health mentor notices you

“Ready for some yoga, today?” The smile the handsome health mentor beams at you could probably melt an iceberg but it is helpless against your brooding mood. The familiar aroma of fresh coffee hits your nose as you raise the cup to your lips and take a slow, savouring sip, while your eyes wander to the other side of the table.

He’s always busy. Your husband. Even now, sitting within arm’s reach, he’s hidden behind a massive morning newspaper, his only response to your question about visiting the famous Buddhist temple around the corner – a barely audible "Khm." 

You wouldn’t be surprised if his choice of hotel for your second anniversary had been dictated by its strict ban on electronic devices, so that he could perfectly hide himself and keep avoiding you even during breakfast – the only time you actually spend together – buried behind that stupid newspaper.

The thought of enduring another day of yoga, meditation, and stress management sessions makes you want to scream, and you are quite sure even the threat of execution wouldn’t make you sit through it again. No wonder the smile you force onto your face barely holds, drawing a slight furrow of concern from your ever-charming instructor.

“Lady is not feeling well today?” he asks suddenly, and you nearly choke on your coffee. Is it that obvious?

No, you are not feeling well. You fucking hate this stupid hotel. You hate the so-called healthy breakfast, the endless polite smiles and shallow bows.

And most of all, you hate the man sitting across from you, pretending you don’t exist.

“I think I want to do something fun today,” you look up from your coffee cup, watching as the fine steam curls in the bright sunlight, casting a shimmering silver veil over your health mentor and making him look somewhat mysterious. “I think I might skip the yoga.”

You wait. Will there be a reaction from the other side of the newspaper? A word? A glance? Anything?

Nothing. Sometimes, you wonder if he even exists, or if he’s just a phantom conjured by some cruel, unending nightmare.

It had never been about love, that much was clear from the start. This was a deal, a calculated merger between the two wealthiest steel companies, sealed in marriage.

And yet, you had hoped. Even if there was no passion, no fairytale romance, you had hoped the two of you could at least be partners, friends and allies in business and in life.

But it became very quickly painfully obvious that was never on your husband’s agenda. 

The silence from behind the newspaper stretches unbearably long, you exhale slowly, pressing the edge of your cup against your lips. The coffee burns, searing hot—but you barely notice. You’ve learned to love the pain. At least it reminds you that you’re still alive. Sometimes.

“Maybe I’ll visit the temple,” you add, more to yourself than anyone else.

Still nothing.

Valentin, it’s the name of the health mentor, assigned to you by the over caring manager of the hotel, clears his throat, shifting his weight slightly, his mismatched eyes flicking toward you with the kind of polite curiosity he reserves for hesitant guests. “Would you like me to arrange transport?” he asks, his voice smooth, professional.

You shake your head. “No need.”

You don’t want another carefully curated experience, another guide leading you through the motions of enlightenment, you just want something real.

Isn’t that ironic? You had once thought marriage – this marriage – would be the real part of your life. That despite its transactional nature, despite its calculated foundation, you could build something meaningful within its walls.

But walls don’t build themselves and your husband never even picked up a brick.

The rustling of paper draws your attention and for a fleeting second, you think he might actually lower it, might actually speak. Your breath catches.

But no. He merely folds the page, shifts slightly, and continues reading.

—------------------------------------------

The simple sand road to the monastery isn’t particularly long, but with no shelter from the relentless sun, it feels endless. Sweat clings to your skin, your breath turning shallow as the heat presses down on you, and the journey takes longer than you expected, the afternoon already slipping into its golden haze by the time you reach the base of the massive stone stairs leading to the temple.

A small cloud of dust swirls beneath your foot as you step onto the first stair. You pause, staring at the ancient, timeworn stone beneath you.

Then, you start counting. One. Two. Three.

You need something to anchor yourself, something to focus on, because the last thing you want to do right now is think.

Four. Five. Six.

You don’t want to think about the suffocating silence of your marriage. About the man who sits across from you every morning yet feels a million miles away. About how, somewhere along the way, you’ve started measuring your own existence by the small, sharp edges of pain – hot coffee against your lips, the sting of too-bright sunlight, the ache in your calves as you climb. Or about how you have to force yourself to look away from the perfectly sculpted abdomen of your personal yoga instructor, health mentor, confidence booster, and walking temptation all in one.

You’re sure he says the same flattering lines to all his clients, yet you still can’t stop the slight curl of your lips when he praises your form, marvels at your fitness levels, or sounds genuinely impressed by how well you hold a downward dog.

It’s ridiculous, and yet, for the briefest moment, you almost feel seen.

Twenty. Twenty-one. The numbers pulse in your mind like a prayer and by the time you reach the top, your breath is uneven, your heart hammering against your ribs. You press a palm against your chest, as if to steady something deep inside yourself, then lift your gaze.

The temple stands before you, ancient and unmoving, the air is thick with the scent of incense, a soft curl of smoke drifting from the entrance and monks move silently through the courtyard, their robes whispering against the stone. 

The sight is so starkly different from the artificial luxury of the hotel that for a moment, you hesitate. You don’t belong here. And yet, you’ve never felt more drawn to a place in your life.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll find something here, something real. Something that doesn’t hurt. You take a slow breath, preparing to step forward, when a voice, soft and familiar, halts you in your tracks.

“Skipping yoga and running off to find enlightenment instead?”

Turning slowly, you find Valentin leaning casually against one of the temple’s carved wooden pillars, arms crossed over his chest, an amused glint in his mismatched eyes. 

He looks different. With the stylish light silk shirt, showing off his extremely well built frame,  and black sporty trousers he looks infuriatingly out of place here – too vibrant, too much a reminder of the life you were trying to escape, even if only for a few hours.

You exhale, masking your surprise with a sigh. “Valentin, what are you doing here?”

He tilts his head, as if the answer should be obvious. “Guiding lost souls toward balance and inner peace.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Or at least keeping an eye on the ones who suddenly decide to abandon their wellness retreat without warning.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it. “I needed a break.”

“From what? The relaxation?” His voice is teasing, but something in his gaze lingers too long, as if he sees more than you want him to.

You shift uncomfortably, the last thing you need is for Valentin, your overly attentive, far-too-charming health mentor, to start analyzing you.

“I just wanted to be alone,” you say, more firmly this time.

To your annoyance, he doesn’t look deterred, instead, he takes a step closer. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

The question hangs between you, heavier than it should be, because no, you’re not sure. Not anymore.

You glance toward the temple entrance, where the scent of incense drifts in the warm afternoon air, your imagined refuge, a place of stillness, but now, with Valentin standing here, watching you like he’s waiting for an answer you don’t have, the ground beneath your feet feels anything but steady.

He sighs, tilting his head toward the temple steps. “Come on, then.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you’re going to search for something real, at least let me make sure you don’t pass out on these stairs first.” His smirk softens just slightly. “Consider it part of my job description.”

A reluctant laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Damn him. Still, you hesitate.

Following him means acknowledging the pull between you, the quiet, unspoken thing that has lingered in the spaces between conversations, between his casual touches as he adjusted your posture, between the way he always seemed to notice when you weren’t okay.

But walking away means going back to the emptiness you came from, and you’re not sure you can do that, either.

—--------------------------------------------------------

The rhythmic thump of bass vibrates through the wooden floorboards, mingling with the crash of waves in the distance, and the air seems thick with the scent of salt and citrus, the heat of the day fading into the electric pulse of the evening.

You sit at the bar, ice clinking in your glass as you swirl the liquid inside. A mojito, Valentin’s choice for you. “Something refreshing,” he had said with that ever-present smirk.

Beside you, he leans back against the bar, one elbow resting on the counter, watching the dance floor with lazy amusement, the half unbuttoned stylish silk shirt reveals his sun-kissed skin and toned forearms. He looks completely at ease here, as if this place, with its neon lights and reckless energy, belongs to him. And maybe it does.

You take a slow sip of your drink, the coolness a sharp contrast to the warmth buzzing beneath your skin. “I thought you were all about health and balance,” you muse, raising a brow at him. “This doesn’t seem very… meditative.”

Valentin laughs, low and easy. “Balance means knowing when to let go.” He gestures toward the dance floor, where people move with uninhibited joy, bodies pressed close, arms lifted to the sky. “Besides, what’s the point of a healthy body if you don’t use it to feel something?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, and to your surprise, he suddenly turns toward you. “Come on.”

You blink. “Come on what?”

His grin is pure mischief. “Dance with me.”

You snort. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

Valentin doesn’t argue, he simply takes your hand, your small palm disappearing into his large one and suddenly, you’re not sitting at the bar anymore, you’re being pulled onto the dance floor, the press of bodies and the thrum of music wrapping around you like a second heartbeat.

You open your mouth to protest, but then his hands settle lightly at your waist. 

“Relax,” he murmurs, voice close to your ear. “Just move.”

So you do. At first, it’s awkward, you’re stiff, hesitant, too aware of him, of the heat between you, of the way his fingers press just lightly enough to steer you but firmly enough to keep you close.

But then the music shifts, and something inside you does too, the beat takes over, drowning out everything else – the noise in your head, the weight in your chest, the echo of a marriage that feels like a ghost haunting your every step, and for the first time in longer than you can remember, you don’t think. You just move.

Valentin’s gaze never leaves you, his expression switching between approval, awe and something else, something deeper, dark and intensive, something you’re afraid to name but it makes your skin tingle.

The song changes, but you don’t stop and neither does he.

—-----------------------------------------------------

His lips are scorching against your skin, taking, demanding, yet somehow just as giving, as every kiss, every flick of his tongue, every sharp inhale between parted lips feels like breathing in life itself, like drawing a fresh breath after eternity of drowning.

You moan as your back meets the wall, it’s so cool against your overheated skin, while Valentin presses his body against yours, his thigh between your legs, spreading them open. 

His name is barely more than a whispered breath against his lips, but he hears it, and the way you say it, so desperate, so wanting, so surrendering, makes him groan into the kiss, as his hands grow restless, tracing the curves of your body. 

His fingers roughly dig into the soft flesh of your hips, and you can’t bite back the moan that claws through you, the raw and unfiltered sound slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

“You like playing games, don’t you?” It’s not really a question, it’s more like a realization, and there is something in Valentin’s voice that makes you shudder.

You know what this is, what it could be, what it will be if you don’t stop now, but you don’t want to stop.

“I do,” you breathe, and the moment the words leave your mouth, Valentin’s hand moves, wrapping around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse stutter.

You gasp, eyes fluttering shut, as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, not from fear but from the way your body reacts, heat suddenly coiling low in your belly. 

“Then let’s play,” Valentin murmurs and his voice feels like a rustle of silk over steel, sending a shiver down your spine.

Stepping back, Valentin grabs your wrist, and a soft whine escapes you as he withdraws his other hand from your throat, leaving your skin tingling.

Your weary eyes follow his every move as he leads you out of the dimly lit comfort of your villa bedroom, across the courtyard. It isn’t until you reach the villa on the other side that realization dawns, and you suddenly know where he’s taking you.

The massive terrace doors slide open soundlessly, as Valentin releases your hand, stepping inside without the slightest hesitation and heading toward the large, imposing oak desk – the very heart of your husband's domain.

Leaning casually against the sturdy edge, he turns to you, watching and waiting while you hesitate at the threshold. This is his realm, his villa, his study. He always insists on having one, no matter where you travel, it’s his excuse to remain occupied, to bury himself in work, to keep pretending you don’t exist.

Your pulse hammers in your throat, while Valentin keeps watching you in silence.

Slowly you step inside, sliding the heavy glass doors shut behind you, the quiet thud reminding you of a trap snapping closed.

“Onto your knees,” Valentin’s voice reaches you the moment you turn toward him again.

You lift your gaze to meet his, and before your mind can even process what he’s asked, your body obeys and you slide down. Your knees hit the floor, but you almost don’t notice the impact through the haze of anticipation, curling around you like thick smoke.

Valentin’s lips quirk in the faintest hint of satisfaction as he shifts slightly.

“Crawl to me,” he commands and you do, smile tugging on your lips, the smooth wood cool beneath your palms as you move, each shift of your body slow, teasing, testing.

Valentin doesn’t move, doesn’t rush you, he simply watches, leaning against the massive oak desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the surface, he lets you play, lets you draw it out, watching with that quiet, knowing patience that only makes the air between you heavier.

Your gaze drops, landing on the noticeable strain against his trousers, the hard outline pressing insistently, demanding release, and a fresh wave of anticipation rushes through you, mingling with the slow burn already curling in your veins, your knees ache, a beautiful reminder of presence, of being alive and wanted, of the serenity of submission.

You reach him, and his fingers slip into your hair, claiming control, tilting your head up until your eyes find his, and the amusement in his expression is unmistakable.

“Lady enjoys testing limits,” he muses.

Your lips part, a response forming, but he runs his thumb over your lower lip, silencing you before a single word escapes, and a thrill shivers through you, the slow, intoxicating game settling into place.

“You’re not the only one,” Valentin murmurs, his thumb pressing just enough to make you gasp, just enough to remind you of exactly what you both are in this delicious exchange of power.

His free hand moves achingly slow, tracing the curve of your jaw before gliding down your throat, as his fingers linger precisely where they had claimed you before. You swallow hard, and he watches the flutter of your pulse beneath his touch, his lips curving in satisfaction.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” He doesn’t really need to ask, the answer is already written in the way your fingers move, deft and eager, working to free him, in the way your lips part, a greedy moan slipping past them before you even realize you’ve made a sound.

But just as your lips part fully, just as your tongue flicks out, his grip in your hair tightens, not painful, but firm, controlling, and he tilts your head back, forcing you to look up at him again.

“Look at you, so eager, so needy,” Valentin muses. “Patience,” he hums. “You wanted to play. So let’s play.”

A flush burns through you, the heat in your belly growing with each passing moment, you close your eyes, your nails dig lightly into the fabric of his trousers, a silent plea. He chuckles, low and indulgent, thumb swiping over your lip again, smearing the moisture left behind by your tongue.

Valentin finally releases the tension in his grip, just enough to let you move, to let you take what you’ve been craving and you don’t hesitate, your tongue flicks over the tip of his cock while your fingers wrap around him, and the sharp breath he draws is like music to your ears. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice huskier now, and you glance up at him, drinking in the sight – his tousled dark hair, the sharp angles of his face, the way his mismatched eyes flicker with something dangerously close to ruin, but he’s still composed, still in control.

That won’t do, with a teasing slowness, you drag your lips over his length, just barely touching, just enough to make his fingers tighten in your hair again, his other hand gripping the edge of the desk behind him.

A flicker of frustration crosses his face. Good. You like it. Your tongue flicks over him again, featherlight, and his grip jerks, his hips shifting forward just slightly.

A breathy chuckle escapes you. “I thought you said patience?” 

His eyes darken.

“I did.” Valentin agrees, his voice impossibly smooth. Then, before you can react, his hand tightens. “But patience,” he whispers, “is something I teach, not something I practice.”

He pulls you closer, and the next moment his cock fills your mouth, stretching you, pushing past your lips until the burn at the corners of your mouth becomes a delicious ache. He’s big, thick and heavy on your tongue, and you can do nothing but take it – let him guide you, move you, use you because there is nothing more intoxicating than surrendering to someone who knows exactly how to wield power.

His first thrust is slow, measured, testing your limits, then another, deeper this time, until he finds the perfect rhythm, until your body learns to follow his lead.

Your only response is a low hum around his length, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. You don’t dare to stop him, you don’t want to stop him. The ache in your knees, the burning stretch of your lips, it all blends into the dizzying pleasure wrapping around you like a thick fog, pulling you under, making you pliant, making you his.

Saliva spills from your lips, dripping down your chin as you take him deeper, bobbing your head along his length, the slick, obscene sounds filling the room, and your fingers dig harder into his thighs, nails pressing into firm muscle as you hold on, as you let him use you.

Then it happens – the first raw, unrestrained moan slips from his lips, rough and unexpected, and in the same moment a rush of satisfaction surges through you, making your limbs tremble as pleasure pulses through you.

You’ve undone him, even if only for a moment, and God, it’s the sweetest kind of victory.

_____________________________________

Valentin watches you, completely absorbed in the way you give yourself over to him, the way you need him. 

He has seen loneliness in many forms – restless indulgence, desperate validation, quiet self-destruction – but yours is something else entirely. It’s not the loneliness of someone abandoned, not the aching void of someone craving affection, it’s the loneliness of a woman unseen, of someone who exists in the periphery of her own life, a shadow in the grand, empty spaces your husband refuses to fill.

And now, here you are, on your knees before him, surrendering, not for him, not even for pleasure itself, but for the feeling of being claimed, of belonging to something.

You don’t even realize how much he understands, how much he wants to give you this, not just the rawness, not just the sharp edges of control and surrender, but the pleasure – the real escape.

Every unrestrained sound that escapes your lips, every shudder that runs through your body, every moan that vibrates against his cock – it’s all a silent plea for oblivion, for something that makes you forget, and he’ll give it to you.

His grip tightens in your hair, just enough to remind you that you’re not lost, that you are here, you’re his in this moment, and you’re going to take everything he gives you.

He forces himself to breathe through the heat coiling in his gut, the heady mixture of control and restraint pushing him slowly to the edge, but he won’t let go first, not until you do, not until you have got what you crave for.

"I know you can take more. Don't hold back, sweetheart," Valentin’s voice is still smooth, but there’s something raw beneath it, something unraveling.

His head tips back as you take him deeper, swallowing around him, forcing yourself to relax, to ignore the way your throat tightens whenever his tip grazes too far. You feel his fingers tense in your hair, his breath turning uneven, his control fraying at the edges, you feel the slight twitch of his cock inside your mouth, the way his grip tightens just a fraction more. He’s close, so close you can almost taste the victory.

But just as the triumph starts to settle in your chest, just as you think you’ve won this game, Valentin moves, his grip suddenly becoming unyielding as he pulls you off him.

A gasp rips from your lips as your head tilts back, a thin trail of saliva still connecting you to his cock, your breath is ragged, your lips swollen, the loss of him sudden and jarring, as your eyes flick up, searching his.

His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths, his jaw tight, his fingers still buried in your hair, holding you in place. 

“You thought I’d let you win that easily?” he murmurs, and your stomach tightens.

Of course, it would have been too easy, but it’s not over, and you feel the slight tinge of excitement back in your shaking limbs.

Valentin releases your hair slowly, tracing his fingers down your cheek, tilting your chin up so you’re looking only at him.

“Get up,” he orders, and your legs shake as you obey, rising to your feet, anticipation thrumming through every inch of you.

His eyes never leave yours as he steps aside the heavy oak desk, his palm smoothing over the polished surface before he gestures to it with a slow, knowing smile.

“Now,” he breathes, the words sinking into your skin, into your bones, “Bend over.”

Your breath is shallow, pulse hammering in your throat as Valentin watches you. You should hesitate, should second-guess this, but you don’t, there is something in his voice, in the quiet certainty of his presence, that makes you want to obey.

Your palms meet the smooth, polished surface of the desk as you lean forward, the cool wood welcoming your body, humming with anticipation, your heartbeat a steady drum in your ears.

Behind you, Valentin doesn’t move right away, he takes his time. You hear the subtle shift of his breath, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusts, as he watches, you can feel his gaze sweeping over you, mapping your curves, taking in every shallow breath you take, and it’s almost unbearable, this waiting, this cruel stretch of silence he’s using to unravel you even further.

His hands reach you first, slow, teasing, fingertips ghosting over the small of your back, trailing lower, skimming the curve of your hips before hooking beneath your silk underwear as he pushes the fabric up, peeling it away, baring your ass to him inch by inch.

A shiver ripples through you, and he notices, of course, he does.

“You’re trembling,” he muses.

You swallow hard. “You like that?”

A low chuckle: “Oh, I love that.”

His palm slides up your spine, fingers splaying, pressing you further into the desk, you inhale sharply, the sheer presence of him behind you, surrounding you, making you dizzy, and then – nothing, his touch disappears, the absence of it sharp, almost aching.

You shift slightly, seeking it back, but he tuts softly. “So impatient,” he murmurs, dragging a single finger down your back, and you can't help but whine in frustration or need, or something between the two.

Valentin leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I told you, sweetheart…,” his hand on your back gets heavy, a sharp contrast to the featherlight touch before, “this is my game.”

You cry out as his palm cracks against the soft flesh of your ass, the sharp sting blooming into heat, the sound echoes through the dimly lit study, swallowed by the thick walls.

His other hand presses you firmly against the rough surface of the desk, holding you exactly where he wants you, where you need to be.

"Beautiful," Valentin murmurs, his voice like molten honey, seeping into your dizzy consciousness, while his fingers trace over the mark he’s left, soothing, teasing, before his palm lifts again.

You barely have a second to brace yourself before he strikes once more, the jolt of sensation makes your body tense, your fingers curling against the edge of the desk, a whimper escaping your lips, not just from the sting, but from the sheer intensity of it all, from the way he makes you feel owned without ever needing to say the words.

"Good girl," he praises, his hand lingering, squeezing your buttocks. "I knew you'd take it so well."

A shiver rolls through you at his words, at the quiet, knowing amusement in his tone, as if he’s been waiting for this, as if he knew from the moment he first saw you that you’d come undone for him like this.

Valentin hums in satisfaction, his fingers trailing lower, teasing, ghosting over your folds before dipping into your slick, aching core, and a sharp gasp escapes you, your body instinctively pressing into his touch, craving more.

“You’re drenched,” he muses, dragging his fingers through your arousal, spreading it, playing with it. “I think you like this more than you’re willing to admit.”

He leans forward, his body a solid wall of heat against your burning ass and back, his lips graze your ear. "Tell me how much you like it."

It’s not a request, your breath shudders as you turn your head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him through hooded eyes. "I…" you swallow, your voice breaking on the admission. "I love it."

A moan slips past your lips, unbidden, as his fingers start moving in and out of you.

"Let’s see just how much more you can take," Valentin’s voice reaches you as if from a dream – distant, intoxicating, pulling you deeper as his hand comes down again, heavy, punishing, liberating, the sharp smack echoing through the room and this time, you don’t even try to stifle the moan that rips through you. 

Valentin’s fingers start to work you open, drawing you under in that beautiful space where the world outside this moment fades, dissolving into nothing but the pure sensation of his touch, his voice, the way your body responds without hesitation, without thought.

His other hand slides up your body, wrapping around your throat, his fingers pressing into your flesh as he holds you down against the table, making your pulse race and your head swim, and soon there is nothing else left, just the heat coiling in your core, your walls clenching around his fingers, and his grip making your body melt. The edges of reality blur and your mind floats, you are weightless and you are his.

The pleasure is thick, dizzying, curling around you like a cool, silken cloud and you barely register the sounds falling from your lips – moans, pleas, shameless whimpers – but Valentin does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone full of satisfaction. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You buck your hips against his hand incapable of speech, you don’t care anymore, there’s no holding back, no shame, just raw, consuming need.

And he loves it, he presses deeper, stretching you, teasing you until you're trembling, whining mess before him. Suddenly without a warning he pulls his fingers away, leaving you empty, desperate, and a frustrated whine escapes your lips, but before you can beg, before you can even catch your breath, you feel it. 

The head of his cock, thick and hard, is pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Breathe,” he commands, voice smooth, firm, the last tether keeping you connected to this world. “Take me.”

And then he thrusts, a cry rips from your throat, pleasure blooming so violently it borders on pain, as he fills you completely, stretching you to the point of perfect ruin, and you can do nothing but take it.

He doesn’t start slow, doesn’t ease you into it, he fucks you relentlessly, unyielding, thrusting into you with a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving you harder against the edge of the desk. 

The wood bites into your soft skin, a dull ache mixing with the overwhelming pleasure, blurring the lines between pain and bliss, and the room is filled with the sound of the sharp slap of skin against skin, your desperate moans, the rough scrape of the desk beneath you as it all melts together into something filthy, something primal, something beyond anything you’ve ever felt before and you never want it to stop.

You don’t hold back, you can’t, your moans grow louder, shameless, broken, echoing through the study. You want him to hear, you want everyone to hear.

And then, something shifts, a flicker of movement catches your eye, a presence just beyond the edge of your bliss-drunk haze, and your gaze drags toward the doors where you see him – your husband, standing there, watching.

His expression is full of surprise and something else, something you had never seen before, your eyes drop lover to his hand wrapped around his rock hard cock, tugging violently at it while his gaze remains glued to the sight of Valentin ruining you.

The shock should snap you out of this haze, should send you spiraling into shame, into panic, but it doesn’t.

It’s the first time you see him like this – silent, desperate, weak and wanting, it’s the first time you feel you have the power, you are finally seen, you unravel him.

Valentin groans, his rhythm faltering as he feels you tighten around him, your body clenching down, dragging him closer to the edge, and he leans over you.

“Look at you,” he rasps. “My perfect lady. My queen. Falling apart so beautifully for me.”

Without warning Valentin yanks you upright, your back flush against his chest as he drives into you, his hand still around your throat, as his tongue flickers against the shell of your ear. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Let him watch what he’s missed… what he doesn’t deserve.”

That’s all it takes, pleasure surges through you, hot, electric, overwhelming, ripping through you before you can even brace yourself for it as you shatter with a cry, your core seizing around Valentin, every nerve igniting as bliss detonates in violent waves, white-hot and endless.

You sob through your climax, your hands scrambling against the edge of the desk for support, your mind utterly lost to it. 

Valentin’s thrusts grow even rougher, deeper, pushing you through the aftershock, using you for his own pleasure now, but you don’t care, because as you come undone, as your body trembles and your cries fill the air, you keep your gaze locked on your husband, standing there, watching, completely powerless.

You never imagined revenge could be this sweet.

[tinalbion]

'𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rick Hatchett x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, do NOT interact! Rick is on his own at the White Lotus. Slight angst, smut with plot, age gap, shameless flirting with a man in his 50s, drinking, shower sex, unprotected p in v, fast developing feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 13.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rick Hatchett is on vacation to escape the harsh reality of life, and even then, he can find himself wallowing at the bar. And then you come along and give him a run for his money, causing him to rethink things while enjoying vacation. But what could the harm be in some shameless flirting?

Dedicated to @free-for-all-fics who has been watching the new episodes with me every week!

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

This was supposed to be a vacation, but no matter what he did or how he approached it, it still felt like he was on a business trip, never resting. Even being thousands of miles away from home, taking in the sights of Thailand had left a bitter taste in his mouth and became almost impossible for him to ease into. Tension already knotted in his muscles, his mind just as far away as he was, even though he’d only been here a day, he was hoping and silently praying that being here would ease some of the internal suffering he felt. What a wonderful start to his arrival at the White Lotus.

Rick Hatchett had been slumped over in his seat at the hotel bar, elbows resting on the counter as he stared into the glass before him, the bar already abandoned by the majority of the guests as they retired for the evening, and he barely took notice that someone was even beside him.

You had walked up to the bar, barely starting your night as you escaped your family, slipping away as soon as they’d been distracted enough, and ordered one of the strongest and fruitest drinks they had. You couldn’t help but look over at the man who sat as still as a statue, taking notice of his expression. Was he sad? Stressed? Everything in between? You smiled softly and cleared your throat to alert him of your presence.

“Rough night?” you asked softly.

The man slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, immediately taken aback by your soft smile. It wasn’t something he was usually greeted with; a pretty little thing like you smiling so sweetly at him. He looked you up and down before letting out a dry scoff, his expression still slightly tense. 

“Is it that obvious...?”

“A little,” you replied with a gentle tone. “You gonna be okay?”

Another quiet scoff slipped from him, though in truth, he found her company to be more of a comfort than a burden even though she’d just shown up, unlike most of the other guests here. You weren’t loud, obnoxious, or questioning him in a way that could come off as rude. He ran a hand through his graying black hair, greeting you with a shrug.

“I doubt it. Just… Life, you know? And it doesn’t stop for any one of us,” he mumbled, his gaze now settled back on his whiskey. 

“You’re right; that’s why I’m here. It's a change of pace, I guess. Well, my family is here, they at least got me my own room. Sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story.” I laughed softly and turned back to the bar. “Hey, next drink on me?” I offered.

His gaze lifted from his whiskey and back to you before he raised his eyebrow at the offer of a free drink. Perhaps it was the alcohol already in his system, but the man felt his lips tug into a soft smirk, a barely-there hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re offering a stranger a free drink…? You don’t even know my name, sweetheart…”

He did have a point, but you were feeling bold and wanting to come out of your shell while on vacation, plus you’d been working up the courage to speak to him since you saw him earlier when you all arrived here. “Well, I feel like you could use a drink, and pass the liquid luck onto someone  deserving.” You shrugged casually and smiled.

Rick stared at you for a moment longer before his smirk widened, but only slightly. He found your words to be almost… cute, in a sense. Or perhaps it was the drink in his system telling him such an idea. Either way, he shrugged and motioned to the bartender.

“Then by all means, if you’re gonna keep offerin’, at least let me know your name,” he said, offering his hand out to you.

You smiled wider and took his hand, shaking it firmly as you introduced yourself, taking note of how large his hand looked against yours. The bartender brought your drink and slid it to you while also bringing the man’s drink. “A pleasure to meet you. So, what’s yours?” you asked him.

His hand was larger, his grip firm as he shook your hand in return, a charming smirk on his lips all the while. Though underneath the facade, a subtle sense of exhaustion could still be found in his dull eyes. “Rick,” he said, his expression still soft. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart.”

“Rick,” you said, rolling the name around from your lips, “I like that name.” Your eyes flickered to his hand as he withdrew it, looking at his rings.

Rick’s gaze watched as your eyes seemed to linger on his hand, a slight, almost barely-there scoff escaping him. He flexed his fingers slightly as you watched, raising a dark eyebrow at you. “Do you now?” Rick murmured sarcastically. 

He liked the way it sounded on your lips, oddly enough.

“Yeah, it’s a nice name. Don’t meet many people named Rick. Has a bold meaning behind it, powerful ruler, I think. So, you hear for business or pleasure?” 

“Pleasure, if things would actually go my way…” Rick grumbled, his gaze returning to his almost empty glass of whiskey as the new one sat beside it. He slowly looked back at you, eyeing you curiously for a moment. “And what about you? What brings you to the White Lotus?” He tilted his head slightly. 

You looked over at him with a soft expression. “Wanna talk about your troubles? I know I’m a stranger, but maybe you’ll never see me again, no harm in having someone listen,” you offered as you slid into the stool next to him, leaning your elbow against the bar as you faced him.

Rick looked at you, a bit taken back by your offer, and yet, somehow a part of him was slightly tempted to accept it. The alcohol was definitely to blame, there was no way he’d consider it otherwise, but he felt drawn to you, wanting to talk to you. Or maybe it was just the loneliness and exhaustion talking. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze still on you.

“...Sure, but what do I get out of this? I’m not lookin’ for a free therapy session.”

You scoffed and looked at him with a wide grin. “Well, maybe another free drink?”

He scoffed as his smile widened, enjoying this bit of banter with you. “Another one? You trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?” He asked jokingly. 

“I think you’re already there, Rick,” you teased playfully. 

Rick paused for a moment and then scoffed at your comment. He knew you were absolutely right, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue with you there. Instead, he just ran his hand through his hair again and sighed. “Yeah, yeah… but it’s not my fault, alright? This stuff is pretty damn good…” he said, gesturing to his empty glass and now half-drunk glass.

“That is true, this place has great stuff,” I replied as I held up my glass and offered a toast. “To newfound friends and interesting conversations.”

After taking a moment to eye you up, Rick gave you a small scoff and his smile softened. He raised his glass in return, lightly clinking his whiskey against your drink. “I’ll drink to that, sweetheart,” he murmured as he took a swig.

You clinked your glass against his and smiled wide. “Cheers,” you hummed and took a large swig of your drink.

He followed your lead and took a large gulp of his, finishing his whiskey as he leaned back slightly, a hand returning to run through his messy hair. He gave you a once-over as he tilted his gaze, taking in your features. “So, you ever come here before? You’re not from around where I’m from, your accent doesn’t sound like it, at least.”

“I’m probably not, but you’re definitely not where I’m from either, I take it,” you replied cheekily. 

Rick gave a dry scoff and rolled his eyes. “You’re a sassy one, ain’t you?” he asked in a low, almost playful tone as he slid the empty glass toward the edge of the bar.

“I’ve been told,” you said with a laugh. “But I like to have fun when I can. I’m on vacation, I wanna let loose this week when I’m not near my family.”

He tilted his head as he eyed you with a soft smirk growing on his face. You were surprisingly enjoyable to talk to and to joke with. He found himself growing more amused by you the more you spoke. Then again, you had a free drink to thank for that.

“You’re awfully friendly for a stranger, you know that sweetheart?” he mused.

“Only to the people I think are really cute,” you said sweetly, shooting him a playful wink.

And just like that, Rick felt his face grow warmer, he found himself unable to keep from raising an eyebrow at your remark, his smirk still there, if not a bit lopsided now. Cute? Not many people had called him that in a while, he couldn’t even recall a time he had been called cute. 

“T-Trust me, there ain’t nothing cute about me, sweetheart,” he said somewhat sarcastically. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you brought your drink to your lips, your eyes glued to his. “You must be blind, then,” you hummed and took a drink. “I think you’re downright handsome.”

If he thought his face was warm before, he knew it was even worse now, his neck feeling flush. Hiz's gaze, almost stunned, shifted between your eyes, and a slightly dumbfounded, slightly flustered expression made its way onto his face. His ego was clearly surprised, a soft scoff escaped him as he quickly shifted his gaze away from you. He wasn’t used to people being this brash.

“You’re just saying that, sweetheart…”

You shook your head and gave your own scoff. “I am not just saying that! Hell, I was nervous to come and talk to you, if I’m being honest.”

Rick’s gaze returned to yours in an instant, a mixture of surprise and disbelief in his expression. “...Why on Earth were you nervous to talk to me?” he asked, his voice gruff as he ran his hand through his hair again, an unconscious, nervous tick of his. 

You smiled softly, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the bar. “Handsome older man, sitting alone, looking sour-faced and upset, I was afraid I’d get approached by an angry girlfriend or something, get my ass kicked,” you teased.

Rick couldn’t keep himself from giving a dry laugh in response to your admission, though admittedly, he was still surprised by the compliment. He gave you a sly smirk and leaned back in the chair, his gaze dropping ever so slightly from your face. “No darlin’. No girlfriend, no wife. Just me, myself, and whatever the hell I got goin’ on,” he replied sarcastically. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate, but not for me,” you said with a smirk. “So, why have you come to the White Lotus?” 

Rick looked down at his glass. His smirk slowly faded as he let out a tired sigh. Then, he took the last swig of his drink before he looked back at you, an exhausted, almost saddened glint in his eyes. “...Thought the vacation would maybe be a break. A bit of fun, at the very least. But I guess life doesn’t like to take breaks,” he said almost bitterly.

“How so?” You asked softly, leaning in closer. 

Rick paused for a moment before pushing his glass toward the bar again, signaling for another refill. He drummed his fingers on the bar top, wondering what he should even say considering he’d never been one to really discuss his personal life, especially to a complete stranger. But for some reason, be it the alcohol affecting his thinking skills or the sudden loneliness, he felt an odd sense of desire to share these things with you. You just felt… easy to talk to. 

“Family problems, mostly…”

You leaned forward slightly and looked at him with a gentle gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, Rick,” you said softly as you placed a hand over his to offer some comfort. 

Rick wasn’t used to public displays of this sort of thing, his eyes shifted to your hand resting over his before he looked back up at you. A wave of… something… went through him. Surprise, definitely. But also a twinge of… comfort? What the hell was even going on with him tonight? One woman was offering free drinks and a free ear at the bar of this insanely fancy resort. 

“...It’s fine, darling,” he muttered, pushing the offer away, much like he pushed others away.

“Well,” you began as you sipped at your drink, “I’ll be here all week, probably the same as you if you need to talk. I know, ‘stranger danger’ and all that, but I mean, we’re both here, we’re both alone, may as well have each other’s backs.”

His gaze went back to your hand as it still remained over his, feeling stunned, as if he was being honest with himself. Your presence was oddly soothing, or at least, that’s what he figured it was. He found himself unable to look away from you as he slowly nodded. “Yeah… yeah, why the hell not?”

You smiled and nodded with a wide smile. “Great, that’s awesome. And if you need anything, my suite is 215, okay?”

Rick slowly nodded once more, his gaze slowly shifted away, now focused on the bar itself. He thought the alcohol was probably getting to him, that was all. That was the only logical explanation for the way he was currently feeling. Nothing else. He did, however, give your hand a brief squeeze. 

“Yeah, thank you…”

You offered him a gentle smile and removed your hand from his, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. You took one last sip from your drink and sighed softly, enjoying the peace and quiet of the resort’s bar. 

Rick almost protested about the removal of your hand. In fact, much to his chagrin and slight surprise, he almost felt something when you removed your hand from his. He let out a soft sigh of his own as his gaze shifted across the bar, watching the few scattered about and left the bar, leaving just you two. 

“You know,” you began softly as you leaned over, “there are some real… characters at this resort. But you seem to be the only one worth talking to.”

He almost found himself having a hard time breathing as you leaned closer, his heart pounding when you spoke so gently to him. He was glad the light was somewhat dim in here, it sort of obscured how flushed he was becoming. He let out a small scoff. “I’m hardly any better, I’m just a broken man, that’s all.”

You looked over at him, your gaze softened as you studied his face for a moment. “I don’t think you’re broken, Rick,” you replied lightly.

He paused, his expression shifted into something softer as he looked over at you in stunned silence. He wasn’t used to having a stranger look at him in such a way, a way that made him question things, and reassured him so… gently. He wasn’t used to the warm pit he felt in his stomach as you spoke to him. He forced a dry laugh, shaking his head. 

“You don’t know me, sweetheart, you don’t understand, or you’d see how broken I am. Trust me.”

You looked at him and felt the sadness well up within you, wishing you could comfort him in the way he needed to be, the way he deserved to be. You let out a sigh and looked down at your hands as you tapped your fingers gently on the bar, then you looked back at him. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re broken. I just think you’re lost and you don’t know what to do to fix it.”

Rick gave you another soft scoff, thinking you almost sounded sincere. He found himself unable to argue, his shoulders slumped slightly forward as he rested a hand under his chin. You were too cute. And too kind. Too… everything that made him feel something besides anger and despair. “Lost is definitely a good word for it,” he mumbled.

Your gaze never wavered as you took in his melancholic mood. “I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through, Rick,” you said with a gentle tone, offering him that kindness you rarely found yourself giving to many others. 

He was quiet. His gaze remained on yours as a tired sigh escaped his lips, he was too exhausted for this. Rick wasn’t used to people apologizing for his problems, or people even noticing them in the first place, for that matter. They never really got to considering he pushed them away before they could get to the root of the problem. 

“S’alright, sweetheart,” he said, a slight slur in his tone as the alcohol began to hit him all at once. 

“Want me to walk you to your room? You should get some rest, hon,” you offered, placing your hand gently on the back of his arm as you looked at him. 

Rick thought about it for a long moment. Should he have you walk him up? Was he just trying to keep your company because of his loneliness? Was it the alcohol influencing him? In his tired and slightly drunken state, he decided against his better judgment and nodded once. “Yeah… yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

You smiled wider and nodded, tipping the bartender graciously as you got to your feet and stepped closer to Rick, able to now smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath. “Again, if you need me, I’m in 215. Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He stood up, the sudden rush of sitting down for so long hitting his head in an instant, almost causing him to stumble. He leaned on the bar for a moment, trying to regain his bearings, Once he was steady again, he grumbled, giving his head a shake. Rick looked over at you, an expression of both exhaustion and slight irritation. “Lead the way.”

You placed your hand gently on his back, letting out a gasp as he stumbled slightly. Once he stood up, you offered your arm if he wanted to use it to balance, walking slowly alongside him. He looked over at you as you offered your arm, the drunken side of him taking over as he accepted it. You felt so soft, almost too soft… His arm wrapped around your arm, holding on tightly. Just for support, of course.

He tried to focus his eyes on the room numbers as you both neared the end of the hall, the feeling of his impairment and exhaustion making it difficult. He let out a soft grumble as he finally found his room number on a door. He lifted his arm and pointed. “There, 212,” he said in a soft, low tone, his arm still around yours as he pulled you in that direction.

“Alright, let’s get you inside,” you hummed as you watched him tap the key card against the lock. “Glad you made it up here,” you hummed as you helped him through the door. “I hope I can see you again tomorrow, I had a fun time talking with you. And we’re practically neighbors, I’m just a few doors down.”

With a soft click, the door to his room unlocked and he swung it open, allowing you to steer him inside before he let go of your arm. He stood still for a moment before he tapped around the wall to flick the light on. His gaze turned to you again, a small smirk on his face as you spoke, his expression softening.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I had a nice time talking to you, too, sweetheart.”

Without permission, you took the initiative and walked toward his kitchen and grabbed a glass of water for him, welcoming yourself into his room. You came back and placed it on his bedside table, smiling softly. “You try to sleep, drink some water so you’re not miserable in the morning, and take care of yourself.”

He watched you as you managed to surprise him once more, the little things that showed you were actually worried about him, and he watched as you backed toward the door, the hesitation in your movements. He found himself feeling tired, yet he didn’t want you to leave. 

Another new feeling, Rick thought to himself.

“Thank you. You too, see you tomorrow…” His words slurred slightly.

You offered one more smile as you walked toward the door and closed it gently behind you, resting against it as you let out a sigh. Rick was left alone, standing there in his massive room. He let out a soft breath before he began to slowly undress, kicking off his pants and tossing his shirt to the side as he sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t shake the feeling of you as he sat there, sipping slowly at the water, a weird sense of warmth had taken up residency in his stomach. Once he chugged half the glass, he laid back on the bed with a huff and dragged half the comforter over him. 

As he settled into bed, he found himself looking forward to tomorrow.

The morning sun eventually rose out over the resort, the ocean waves sparkling beneath the rising colors, and those rays began to peek through the curtains of Rick’s room. He ended up sleeping through the night, barely tossing and turning as the exhaustion from yesterday kept him from waking. He opened his groggy eyes, wincing at the bright light, turning away as he let out an annoyed groan. He pushed himself up to look at the time, grumbling as he ran a hand over his face as he attempted to get his bearings.

You had woken up almost an hour ago, already having showered, done your morning routine, and ate something light to curb the hunger. You hummed softly as you scrolled on your phone for a little bit, and your mind wandered to Rick, wondering if he’d slept okay. 

With a hum, you figured you’d get down to the pool before a lot of others decided to, wanting to get some early sun. You slipped into your bathing suit and grabbed a book, your earbuds, and a few other things you slipped into your bag. You figured Rick would sleep in for a bit, so you had some time to yourself before you’d go and check on him.

Rick had finished rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced over at the clock once more. It was still fairly early in the morning and yet he was sitting here, awake and on vacation. Of all the times to wake up early, today was a bad day. His head throbbed a bit though, just as he figured. He drank a bit too much.

He sighed softly, finally finding the strength to get out of bed, hoping that a nice relaxing shower would help him get his mind clear from the hangover he’d be suffering through. 

It took him longer than he’d hoped to fully wake up, though the shower helped, as did some coffee as he stood out on the balcony. He’d dressed in his normal loungewear, a designed button-up shirt with dulled hibiscus blooms and cool-colored palm trees. As he looked out at the water, he figured he’d try to walk around the resort and get his head clear, so he grabbed a small water from the fridge and left his room. He took a deep breath as the fresh air helped a little bit, navigating his way toward the pool area. 

You had been there already, lounging in the chair as your sunglasses were on, your book held up to your face as the sun had been rising higher and higher. The weather was perfect and you were enjoying the quiet before the hoards of people took over. 

Even Rick had to admit it was beautiful outside, though his headache was still there, but it was lessening in intensity. The hotel was mostly quiet save for the early birds who liked to be up before many of the others, and Rick looked around as he slowly walked down the hall that led to the pools. Eventually, he found himself at one of the pool areas, his eyes landing on the only person lounging near it. 

You hadn’t noticed him right away, you were too engulfed in the story you were reading as you took advantage of the early morning silence. He was quiet as he approached you, a small smirk on his face as he noticed how focused you were on the book. Something about that amused him. He cleared his throat, now standing beside your chair.

“Enjoying the morning, sweetheart?”

You looked up at the voice and smiled wide, seeing him looking as handsome as ever, you closed your book and set it aside as you pushed yourself to sit up. “Well, good morning, Rick, how’d you sleep?”

He gave a small scoff but it held no irritation. “Decent, if only I didn’t drink so much last night. Woke up with a helluva headache.”

“Oh,” you gasped as you turned over to reach for your bag, digging through it, then you turned back to him, handing him a small bottle. “Here, I got some aspirin if you need it.”

Rick was surprised but he took the bottle gratefully, opened it, and poured out two pills into his palm, taking it with the water he had on him. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he said with a slight clear of his throat. 

“No worries, I always come prepared, especially since it’s partially my fault you have that hangover,” you mused with a lopsided grin.

Rick chuckled softly, his eyes looking down at you through the lenses of his sunglasses, and then he sat down in the beach chair beside you. “Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You weren’t the one who insisted on chugging down like five drinks in a row,” he said with a dry scoff.

You couldn’t hide the large smile across your face as you placed the bottle back in your bag. “Well, still, I didn’t help,” you said with a laugh. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“Couldn’t sleep that well at the tail end of it, that’s all. Headache made it difficult, but I’m managing,” he said, his eyes wandering over your figure as you sat there.

“Anything I can do? Want some coffee? I heard they have a really good cappuccino.”

His gaze continued roaming across your body, the visible skin looked so soft, and the way your swimsuit hugged you in all the right places didn’t leave much to his imagination. He had to admit, you were a pretty damn good distraction from the headache. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts by your offer, so he cleared his throat and sat up a bit further. “Yeah, that sounds fantastic right about now.”

You sat up and smiled as you swung your legs over the side of the chair, sliding into your sandals. “Okay, you wait here, I’ll go and grab them,” you offered. “Save my spot!”

Rick felt something tug at his heart as you sat up and looked at him like that, the smile on his face only grew as you stood up and placed your hand gently on his shoulder, showing him that you were just being friendly. Though you weren’t entirely sure why you were being this overly friendly to a man you’d just met last night. It wasn’t often that you’d go out of your way to be this kind, but something about him struck you as you sat at the bar last night, and you were hooked on him.

Rick’s body stiffened ever so slightly as your hand touched his shoulder, finding himself trying to force the growing butterflies in his stomach to go away, but he was horribly failing. He watched as you walked off, your figure disappearing through the opened doors of the resort, then he sighed and leaned back in the chair.

You arrived only moments later with the largest cups of cappuccino you could get your hands on and smiled as you approached the chair he sat on. “Hey, I got you the classic cappuccino, feel like it would benefit you better since it’s stronger.” you leaned over and handed it to him.

Rick’s head snapped up as you reappeared, a small smile spread across his face as you handed him the coffee. He took it from you and sipped at it, sighing happily at the taste. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he hummed as he gave your cup a curious glance. “What’s yours?” 

“I just got French vanilla, unless you’d prefer this one, I don’t mind either way,” you said with a soft tone as you sat back on the chair.

Rick shook his head and then took another sip of his coffee. “Nah, I’m more of a plain coffee guy, nothin’ too fancy. You keep yours, suits you better.” He smirked at you again, realizing that he’d been a bit of a flirt, and he wasn’t sure why he was being this way with you.

“Oh, it does, huh?” You asked him playfully. “Well, thanks. If we really like it, we can always get you another one later on.” You sat back in your chair and leaned back, smiling over at the older man.

He chuckled and looked over at you, taking notice of the playful tone of your voice, which only made his smirk widen a bit. He took another sip before turning to look back at you, letting out a sigh of contentment. “Yeah, I’m really liking this, it’s just what I needed. Thanks again.”

“Glad it’s helping,” you offered sweetly. “I’m a bit of a coffee drinker so I’m glad they have top-tier coffee.” You hummed happily as you took another drink, enjoying the taste of the warm beverage. 

Rick was glad you were the talkative type, he could just focus on your voice, cute quirks, and… other things while you talked, and he didn’t have to make small talk. The coffee was a nice help, and he tried his best to feel less hungover. “I’m not surprised. You seem like the type that needs a cup or two every morning, sweetheart,” he teased.

You gave him a feigned look of insult but laughed shortly after. “Well just because you’re right doesn’t mean you should call me out like that,” you laughed.

He smiled at the sound of your laugh. God, you were adorable. He couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over your figure again, admiring the way you looked in your swimsuit. He listened to you talk, though he was drifting in and out as he just looked at you. 

You didn’t notice him zoning out, at least, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You knew he was going through a lot, and if him sitting here listening to you blabber had helped, then what else could you do? You looked across at the pool and out at the sky as you adjusted your sunglasses. 

“So, what plans do you have lined up for today, Rick?”

He had to force his gaze back up to your face, his mind almost fogging up on the sudden attention he had placed on himself. “Honestly? Not much. My head is still pounding, so I’m probably gonna lounge around all day, try to get rid of this damn hangover.”

You looked at him with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. If you don’t mind, maybe I could stick around with you today? Make sure you stay hydrated and try to help your hangover.”

Rick was surprised by your offer, especially just wanting to be around him in general, but specifically to help him. Take care of him? Was this real, or was the alcohol still messing with his head? He decided to test the waters as his smile grew, taking another slow sip from his coffee. 

“Yeah? You’d wanna spend an entire day with a lonely old man?” He teased.

You looked at him, almost offended as you held your cup to your lips and paused, giving him a scoff. “First off, you’re not old, second, you’re not lonely. I’m here now,” you said matter-of-factly.

His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as you scoffed at him. “Oh, don’t let the grey hairs fool you, darlin’. I’m past my prime,” he replied, a slightly bitter yet playful tone in his voice. 

“More like aged like a fine wine,” you suggested with slightly raised brows, sipping your cappuccino. 

Rick couldn’t hold back the laugh he let out, his eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “You charmer. Didn’t think you’d go for an older man like me,” he replied, taking another long sip from his coffee, eyeing you over the rim of his cup.

“Jokes on you, I’m into older men,” you replied with a nonchalant tone, looking down at your phone as you checked the time, sipping your coffee. 

He nearly choked on his beverage as your words caught him completely off guard. He barely managed to force the coffee down his throat, clearing his throat once or twice as he attempted to catch his breath. Once he recovered, he looked at you incredulously. “Is that so…?” He asked, a bit more flirtatious with his tone.

You leaned over as you placed your phone down on your lap, then placed a hand on his arm. “And not just any older men, I only talk to the really hot ones who seem my type,” you replied with a smirk.

Rick’s heart skipped a beat as your hand touched his arm, but this time, he didn’t stiffen. He let your hand linger there, his eyes locked onto your face as he tried to calm his pounding chest. “Yeah? You’re saying I’m hot?” He leaned slightly closer toward you, his demeanor completely changed. 

“Well, yeah, obviously. Must I spell it out for you?” You teased, giving him a little lip.

“You’re a little spitfire, you know that?” Don’t know when to watch your mouth.” He was still staring intensely at your face.

“What, is that a problem?” You asked, offering a wide smile.

Rick’s smirk deepened. God, you were cute when you were being playful. “Hmm, not really. I actually think it’s kinda… hot, you know?” He murmured, his voice going slightly lower. “I like a girl with some bark and bite.”

“Hot huh?” you asked with a widening smile, your fingers tapped against your coffee cup. “Glad I can aim to please.” You shifted in your chair and your mind began to wander.

“Oh, you’re good at aiming in all the right ways, sweetheart,” he hummed.

The way you bit your lip to try and reign yourself in only made you wish his teeth were doing the biting… “Guess I am. Maybe it’s just being in a completely different place, being on vacation, but I’m normally not this bold.”

His smile softened a bit, now wearing a more genuine look on his face as you spoke. “Yeah? Is that so? Well, looks like I’m getting special treatment here, huh?” 

“You definitely are,” you assured him, taking another sip of your coffee.

He was still impressed that you were giving him the time of day. Him. A man nearly twice your age. He shook his head a bit, taking another slow drink from his own coffee. “You’re definitely something else, sweetheart,” he said low and gravelly. 

Your head tilted slightly as you looked over at him. “And what does that mean?” You asked playfully.

“It means I’m surprised that you’re giving a guy like me the time of day.”

“Well, there’s something about you I like, something charming and alluring. You’re quite handsome, and funny, too.” You leaned back in your chair and rolled your shoulders a little, making sure they didn’t tense up. 

You were just handing out all the compliments, weren’t you? He couldn’t help it as his grin returned, his head tilting slightly as he stared at you from beneath his sunglasses. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you, Rick,” you said with a more serious tone. “I’m being dead honest.”

“Well, I find that hard to believe. A pretty young thing like you, giving compliments to a man in his 50s…” He shook his head slightly, eyeing you skeptically. 

Your smile dropped slightly and your gaze turned gentle as you turned your body to face him more. “I mean it, Rick, seriously. There’s something about you and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m really just… drawn to you. I was excited to see you today.”

Rick felt his chest tighten slightly as your expression shifted, and the way you looked at him, your words causing him to feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long while… desired. Wanted. The way you spoke to him, it wasn’t out of pity, it wasn’t out of other intentions. You were genuine. 

“You were excited to see me? Why? I was half drunk when you met me, wallowing in self-pity.”

You heard the heartbreak in his voice as he doubted himself more than anything, which meant pushing that self-doubt onto you. You had a suspicious feeling that he was much like you in that regard; pushing others away to avoid any pain you could experience from disappointment. “Well, I enjoyed talking to you last night, and I wanted to talk to you again once you weren’t inebriated.”

His expression softened as he looked at your face, your eyes conveying the truth that he was afraid to allow himself to believe. He was still doubtful, but for some idiotic reason, he chose to believe you. What reason would you have to lie, anyway?

“So you just… enjoy talking to me? You wanna start your day talking to me, this early in the morning?” He chuckled softly at his questions, wishing he could give himself an answer. 

“Well,” you began with a soft smile, “I’d talk to you all day if you allowed me to. Hell, the entire vacation, if it were up to me.” You couldn’t help the flirtatious tone that took over when you spoke to him, just wanting him to know how much you enjoyed being around him despite not being around him much in the first place. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that you were really interested in him when he was drunk and somber, still wanting to get to know him now that he was sober, but he wouldn’t complain too much. He smiled wide again as he leaned over slightly in his chair toward you. “Oh really? You wanna spend all day with me?”

“Only if you want to,” you replied softly, sipping the remains of your drink. “I don’t have much planned but sitting by the pool, maybe some yoga, all that fun stuff. If you wanna be stuck with me at any point, you know where my room is.”

Rick studied you for a moment, still in a state of disbelief, but he couldn’t say no. Not when you were offering. “You know what? Sounds good, sweetheart. I don’t really got much going on today, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my day with than a pretty girl like you,” he said confidently. 

“Well, I guess it’s a date,” you said with a wink, looking over at him with soft eyes. “So, besides me making sure you don’t dehydrate, what did you wanna do today then?”

A date. God, he couldn’t stop that damn smile from creeping onto his face. “I dunno,” he said, placing his now empty coffee cup off to the side. “Maybe… a swim?”

“I’d love to,” you replied sweetly. “Your head feeling up to it?” you asked.

Rick chuckled softly. “It’s a bit better, the coffee definitely helped. And staring at a pretty girl makes me feel a lot better, too.”

You laughed and shook your head, pushing his arm gently out of playfulness. “Flirt,” you said with a scoff.

Rick’s smile widened as your hand touched him, pushing him in a playful manner, but he caught your wrist and held it gently. “What can I say? You’re very easy to flirt with,” he replied, his eyes locked on yours.

Your eyes flickered from his hand around your wrist back to his face. “Glad I make it easy for you,” you hummed. “Come on, let’s swim, then.” You pushed yourself from the chair and stood up, shrugging out of the sheer wrap you wore over your swimsuit, and dropped it onto the chair. 

As gracefully as you could, you walked over toward the edge of the pool and dove in, splashing the water as you swam around and resurfaced, whipping your hair back as you wiped the water from your eyes. “Come on in, Rick!” You called playfully.

Rick’s jaw tensed as you ditched the wrap, checking your body out immediately, his eyes gazing over the way the swimsuit hugged you in all the right places. He needed to jump into the cold water sooner rather than later with the thoughts that were going through his mind. He cleared his throat as he shrugged out of his button-up after making quick work of the buttons. After a few moments, he jumped into the pool after you, breaking the surface a moment later as he shook his wet hair out.

You watched as he removed his shirt, jumped in, and shook his hair out. You felt that you were no better than a man with the way you eyed him, the thoughts slowly forming in your mind of how badly you wanted him.

Rick’s gaze locked with yours as he shook his head, the water dripping down his face while he ran his fingers through his wet hair. He smirked as he saw the look on your face. “See something you like, sweetheart?” 

You wish you could come up with a clever quip or a playful remark, but you just chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hide the smile on your face or the obvious blush on your cheeks. “I think I do,” you said simply. 

Rick’s smile widened as his eyes flickered to your teeth biting at your lip, taking notice of the look in your eyes, the desire, the heat… He liked it. He swam up to you, getting a little closer to attempt to close the distance. “Oh, really now?” He hummed.

Your hands waded through the water, and your feet kicked, gently propelling your body closer to his. “Oh, definitely,” you replied, your voice slightly softer. 

“You know, sweetheart… that swimsuit looks real good on you,” he said, his voice straining slightly. 

“Does it?” You asked sweetly, trying to maintain that bit of innocence. 

Rick scoffed slightly at your attempt to feign innocence, you knew how you affected him, you had to. “You have no idea,” he replied, his voice low. He was fighting to keep his thoughts clean as he stared at you, feeling his self-control teetering on the edge.

As you swam closer, an impulsive thought popped into your head, so you smiled wide as you suddenly dunked him under the water before you swam off, laughing playfully. 

Rick let out a small yelp as you surprised him, catching him completely off-guard. When he resurfaced, he sputtered and spat out water, turning to face you as he wiped his eyes to see you giggling as you were halfway across the pool. He shook his head, his hair plastered to his face. “Oh, playing dirty, are we?” he called out playfully. “Cheater.” He slowly started to swim toward you, keeping his eyes on you.

You just smiled wider and swam a bit further away, trying to play this game with him as you tested the waters. “Looks like you needed to cool off, hot shot,” you laughed and rested your back against the edge.

Rick couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed off the edge and swam around him, circling him as your playful demeanor kept his excitement going. “You sure about that?” He asked with that smile still plastered on his face, his eyes following you as you made another lap around him. “I think you’re a cheater and you like testin’ the rules.”

“Only if it gets a certain cute guy to let loose a little bit,” you replied as you slowed your movements, floating a couple of feet away from him.

He was starting to feel like he was a teen all over again, getting flustered by a pretty girl as you flirted back and forth. It was nice though, he couldn’t deny that, so he swam just a little closer. “What makes you think I’m not loosened up?” 

“Come on, you’re so somber, so serious. You’re in Thailand, Rick, you gotta let loose!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try and lighten up a little… But only on one condition.”

You swam up a little closer to him, still keeping some distance as you eyed him suspiciously.”Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You asked him, curious as to what he had in mind. 

“You gotta promise you’ll make sure I have fun, I trust I’m in capable hands,” he replied, his voice softer now. His gaze flickered over your form beneath the water as he could feel the heat within him rising. 

“Are you checking me out?” 

“Yes, of course I am,” he said without hesitation. “Can you blame me? Pretty girl like you swimming with me? Gotta be honest with you, sweetheart, you’re making it really difficult for me to control myself.”

“Don’t worry, I was sneaking some looks of my own, so I won’t complain about a hot guy checking me out, won’t I?” you asked with a wink as you allowed your body to float toward him, getting even closer. 

You were flirty, playful, and so god damned cute, Rick couldn’t help but chase after you as you presented yourself like this to him. He couldn’t help but close the distance between you both, stopping just a few inches from you. “I guess not,” he chuckled, his hand reached out and gently traced his fingertips along your side. “You’re making me think things I probably shouldn’t…”

“Like what?” you asked, wondering how much he’d divulge.

“You really wanna know? Well, I could tell you, but you gotta promise not to think I’m some kind of creep, alright?”

You laughed softly and allowed your body to float right up to his, pressing against him as you stared up, trying to control your own desire. “I wouldn’t think that,” you replied gently.

His hand slipped a bit further down your waist, almost reaching your hip. He swallowed hard and nearly felt a slight bit of panic, wondering if you’d meant that you wouldn’t think less of him. “Well, the things I’m thinking about right now ain’t exactly PG-rated, sweetheart…”

You smiled almost deviously as you boldly placed your hand on his arm, steadying yourself beneath the water. “Are you saying you wanna do dirty things to me, Rick?” 

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly at the very mention of it. His hand rested on your side and tightened its grip only a little while he looked down at you, reading your expressions while he spoke. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m saying that I’m having a hard time taking my eyes off you or keeping my hands to myself right now. I want you sweetheart, want you so bad that it hurts…” His hand slipped even lower, resting on your lower back as he pulled you in closer.

“And you’re okay with wanting me? Us being strangers and all?” You asked, your tone almost teasing him, but you didn’t shy away from the idea, you seemed even more interested. 

Rick stared down at you with a clenched jaw, wondering if you’d change your mind. But as he looked at you, the desire in your eyes was clear. “To be honest, I don’t care,” he admitted. “Something about you just pulls me in, and I just… I want you and I don’t care about anything else right now.” He moved even closer, his body pressed against yours while you both stood in the center of the pool.

You swallowed hard at his words, and that’s when it clicked in your mind, you wanted to abandon all thought and just go with how your body was feeling. “Rick, if I kiss you, if I say fuck it and just… do this, I already know I’m not going to want to let you go this entire week…” you confessed, your tone soft so only he could hear. 

Rick’s breath hitched as you spoke, your words only fueling the growing fire he felt within him. “I won’t lie, sweetheart, but I don’t think I’m lettin’ go once I’ve had you,” he admitted, the smirk on his face growing. 

“Rick…” you said softly, shivering beneath the water as his hand slipped against your lower back.

“Yeah?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh. “We may not wanna do this in the public pool…” you mentioned, feeling the tension between you two growing exponentially. 

He raised his head and looked around, seeing a couple of people here and there beginning to filter into the pool area, and their display had been drawing a little bit of attention. “You might be right,” he said softly, chuckling. “Let’s get out of here, then. Somewhere private.”

“Wanna head back to my room?” You offered, looking over at the few people who had been watching them curiously. 

Rick nodded. “Yeah, let’s get our stuff and get out of here. I can’t wait much longer.” 

Once you stopped, you pulled your key card from your bag and pushed the door open, welcoming Rick in while you stepped aside. “Make yourself comfortable,” you said softly as you closed the door and placed your bag down. “I’m gonna shower off the pool water quick, okay? You’re more than welcome to join me…” You offered with a gentle tone, smiling over at him with desire.

Rick’s heartbeat picked up at your invitation, wondering just how far you were intending to go here. He wasn’t sure if this was real or if this was actually happening, but all he could think about was your naked body beneath the spray of water. He stepped closer as you led him toward the bathroom, curious if he’d follow. 

“You don’t know how much I’d love to join you,” he hummed, his hand reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, his thumb running over your lower lip. 

“Then come on,” you replied tenderly, your hand falling to his wrist as you gave it a gentle tug. “I promise I don’t bite unless you prefer me to,” you teased, giving him a playful wink. 

Rick chuckled softly at your teasing, his eyes sparkling with arousal as he stepped closer, his hand wrapping around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. He couldn’t believe you were real, let alone here with him in your room. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind if you bit me, in fact, I think I’d rather like it.”

“Oh, Rick, are you into some kinky stuff?” you asked with a playful tone, pulling him closer toward the bathroom as your hands rested against his waist.

“You have no idea,” he said in a low tone, his breath straining slightly as he walked her backward into the bathroom. “There’s so much about me you don’t know, sweetheart. But I could show you, if you’re interested, of course,” he said as he leaned his face closer, his breath hot against your skin.

With a soft sigh, your hands gently caressed the dips and curves of his sides, wanting to explore him just a little as you stood there together, soaking wet from the pool. “I’d like to find out, yes,” you replied. “I like a little mystery, but I am fairly curious.”

“Ask me anything you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper while his hand continued to ghost along your jawline. “I have no secrets from you tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you asked playfully, pushing for answers.

Rick chuckled softly at your playful jab, a smirk forming across his face. “Maybe more than just tonight. If you play your cards right.” His smile softened as he pulled you closer while he pressed against you, your body now leaning against the bathroom sink as your hands rested on the edge of the counter. 

You were taken with him and rightfully so, he was a breath of fresh air, and you had never met a man so captivating. “Alright then, last name?” you asked with a flirtatious tone. 

His smile widened as you asked, realizing you knew less about him than he thought. “Hatchett,” he answered softly, “my last name is Hatchett.”

“Mhm, very sexy and mysterious, very fitting for you, I think.”

Rick tried to play it cool, but here you were, feeding his ego yet again, his heart skipping a beat. No one had called him sexy in a while and had meant it, and he couldn’t deny the thrill he got from it. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know about his money, you just knew him for him. It was a feeling he hadn’t been comfortable finding, it meant much deeper things to think about. 

“So then, Rick Hatchett,” you began as you tested his full name, “if I were to sleep with you today, how likely would it be that I see you again?” You asked, your expression soft and thoughtful.

The question threw him off guard and he had almost let his cool composure slip, the thought of you wanting to see him more after this was almost too much. “I’d say there’s a pretty good chance you’ll see me again, and not just because we’re stayin’ in the same resort.”

There was a hesitation, a skepticism you couldn’t help but latch onto despite what he was telling you. “You promise? I’ve had guys ghost me plenty, pretending they don’t know me, pretending nothing happened…”

Rick’s heart sank at the mere thought of it, and it only fueled the desire for him to be the opposite, to show you he was serious. “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t have any intention of doing that. I won’t pretend I don’t know you, and I won’t leave without saying goodbye.” He reached up and gently ran his large hand against your cheek, pushing the strands of hair back and behind your ear. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of in all of this, you know, when it’s time to leave the resort...” How could you admit that you felt something for this man already, you had this connection that you sensed, and maybe he did, too. But you were delusional if you thought anything serious would come of this, you shouldn't complicate it further, take it as what it was: fun on a vacation.

“I know,” he whispered as his other hand was light and teasing against your hip. “But we still have tonight, sweetheart. Let’s not worry about tomorrow, okay? Let’s just focus on right now.” He couldn’t think about that, he couldn’t dwell on the what-ifs, or else it would drive him mad.

“What if I want more than just tonight…?”

Rick’s breath caught as the sincerity in your words had struck a chord with him, he hadn’t been expecting some fling to turn into something so serious so quickly, and hell, it hadn’t even been a fling yet. “Then you’ll have me, for as long as you want it, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

With your emotions and desires running high, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, your hands resting gently on his chest as you took the leap and kissed him. He couldn’t resist you any longer, so he wrapped his arm around your waist as his other hand tangled in your wet hair. His kiss was passionate yet needy, something under all of that built-up desire finally burst forth.

You were so taken aback by the urgency in his actions that you couldn’t stop the moan that vibrated against his lips, your arms pulling him further against you as his body pressed into yours, pushing you into the counter of the sink. His body responded immediately to your touch, molding against yours while he instinctively slid his hands from you and grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the sink while his lips remained against yours. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth as his urgency only grew while his hands rested gently against your waist, his touch light and yet possessive. 

When he pulled away from your mouth, he licked his lips while his hand reached around you, his fingers gently skimming along your neck to your shoulders. Your arms reached back and slowly untied the halter of your swim top, allowing the pieces to slowly fall against your chest. Your eyes were locked on his face while he suddenly watched with intense interest, his hands coming up to gently pull down your swim top, revealing your breasts to him. This was the most you’d been exposed to anyone in a bit, but the way Rick had been looking at you made you feel like a work of art. He slowly brought his hands to cup them gently, brushing the pads of his thumbs against your nipples, watching how your body reacted to his touch.

Rick leaned down and placed his mouth over your breast, rolling his tongue around gently in his mouth while he stroked your other one, kneading your flesh as he listened to the sweet sounds you made. Your soft sighs and stifled moans only fueled him to continue, wanting to pull louder and sweeter sounds from your throat. After switching to your other breast and lavishing it with attention, he pulled away and continued to look at you in awe, taking in every curve and swell of your chest. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his tone low and gentle. “So goddamned beautiful.”

Your eyes were glued to his face as you watched his expressions, the way he swallowed your body with his gaze only made the desire you felt grow tenfold. You pulled off the top half of your swimsuit and discarded it on the floor, smiling nervously up at him, feeling rather vulnerable as he held you between his legs on the sink. “Your turn,” you replied.

Rick’s breath hitched as you fully removed the top half of your suit, revealing more of your skin to him, and he took in every inch of it. “You sure you want me to join you?”

“Of course, I do,” you hummed, “I’d be more disappointed if you didn’t. Why, feeling shy?” Your teasing was gentle, not wanting to scare him away.

“I just… I can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled as his hands went back to caressing your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

“Mhm, come on then, Rick, ditch the clothes and join me.” You pushed against him, causing him to release your chest, and you hopped down from the counter, walking toward the shower as you discarded the bottom half of your suit. 

He couldn’t resist your request, he had to get in there with you, so he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it off to the side, sliding out of his soaked shorts and kicked off his sandals. His eyes watched as you ran the water and stepped into the shower, following close behind. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” He hummed as he stepped closer toward you, his bare body now fully in view. 

You bit your lip as your eyes flickered down to his body, widening slightly as you stepped back to make more room for him. He was everything and more to what you were expecting and yet he easily surpassed it. “Can’t help it,” you said simply.

He couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he watched your expression, taking in the sight of him as you were both suddenly bare to each other. He stepped closer to you under the spray of water, his body pressed against yours. The warmth of your skin against his under the cool water caused Rick to shiver. 

“I like that about you,” he pointed out, his hands now placed gently on your shoulders. “Naughty girls are my favorite.”

“Mhm, I bet they are, you seem to like the younger, naughty ones, I take it.” You delighted in teasing him, it was always well-received, and this moment was no different. You reached over and grabbed one of the bars of soap, lathering it against his arms, not waiting for another word.

The feel of your hands on his skin was already sending him into a frenzy, and he watched as you seemed to get lost in the way you watched the soap lather against his skin, his muscles flexing every so often as you glide the bar across him. The way your face looked to him was almost sinful, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gentle moan. “You have no idea. God, sweetheart, you’re killin’ me… I want you so bad…”

You tapped his shoulder as a way to tell him to spin around, his back now to you as your hands glide across his shoulders, his back, and his waist. The feeling of how gentle you were and the warmth of your hands was both soothing and arousing. He was becoming more turned on by the second, and if he were to turn around, he’d have a hell of a time hiding the hard-on he now displayed. 

Rick’s breath ceased for a moment as your hands dipped lower against his back, your touch sent shivers up his spine as he moaned softly again, his head falling forward as your hands continued to wash him clean. He was quickly losing control, your innocent yet seductive touch driving him to the brink. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

You became bold as your arms were now wrapped around his stomach, scrubbing the bar of soap against him, feeling the way his abs contracted beneath your touch. Your hands slowly slid down across his v line and you couldn’t help but release a strained sigh.

He let out a gasp as you moved the soap down to his stomach, his abs clenched at your touch and his whole body felt as if it were on fire. “Sweetheart, if you keep going like that, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you right here,” he warned. 

“Guess that means I’ll have to keep going,” you said with a wide smile, rubbing the soap against him just a little firmly, slowly making your way lower.

Rick didn’t need any more of an invitation than that. With a low growl in his throat, he spun around and pressed her firmly against the tiled wall, his chest pressed against yours as the water cascaded over them both. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. 

You moaned against his mouth as he caught you slightly off guard, but you regained yourself and pressed back against his lips with the same amount of passion he’d given you. Carelessly, you tossed the soap somewhere off to the side so you wouldn’t slip, then wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer, feeling the cold contrast of the tile against your back as the warmth of his body pressed against your front.

Rick’s mind was consumed with you, the feeling of your body against his was almost too much to bear. His hands roamed all over every inch of you, his touch both gentle and explorative while his grip would tighten on a part of you here and there, almost possessively. He broke the kiss, his lips now trailing down from your jaw to your neck as he murmured against your skin.

“You’re driving me wild, sweetheart,” he groaned softly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “You don’t know the effect you’re having on me, the way you’re making me feel. And I plan on showing you.”

“Are you planning on taking me right in this shower?” you asked suddenly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips, only to take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Or are you just talking big?”

Rick’s control snapped at your words, his desire for you taking over any rational thought as he pushed you against the wall firmly. “You’re right, I was trying to take things slow, but you’re not making it easy.

You lifted your leg around his waist, pulling him in as you could feel him pressing against you, his cock pressing firmly against your inner thigh, so close to where you desired him. He groaned at the feeling, his body responding on instinct as he gripped your leg, pulling you closer as he pressed firmly against you. 

“Rick, please,” you begged, whimpering almost pathetically, “I need you…”

He scoffed softly and teased both himself and you as he gently rolled his hips against you, letting out a hoarse groan. “Need you too,” he growled. “Right now.” He finally gripped your hips tightly, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted you with ease as he positioned himself between your legs. Rick notched the head of his cock at your entrance, his body surging forward as he pressed into you. 

You were unable to hold back the unholy groan that spilled from your mouth as you rolled your hips to meet his, your head leaned back against the tile as you tried to catch your bearings. “Jesus Christ, Rick,” you whined. Your nails dug into his arms as you held onto him for stability and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was so careful and yet set such a pace to where he fucks in and out of you deeply. You were losing yourself and quickly in him.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, “you feel so fuckin’ perfect.” His hips moved with purpose and need, one hand gripping your hip firmly while the other was wrapped around your thigh as he spread you just enough to fuck into you. With each deep, calculated thrust, his body responded effortlessly to yours, wanting and needing more of you. His lips found your neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh that was presented to him.

He quickened his pace, his movements becoming desperate as he continued to claim you, feeling his own body growing hungry for its release. Becoming lost in the feeling of you, of how tight you were, and of how heavenly you felt, Rick’s hand slid up from your hip, casually making its way up across your chest and gripping around your throat as he pulled you in to kiss you.

“Oh God, Rick,” you moaned against his mouth, sloppily kissing him back as if you were at his mercy. “Please, keep going, please–”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart,” he groaned against your lips, his body moving yours with increasing need and urgency. “You want me, I’m here, I’m yours.” He continued to rock his hips against yours, hearing the slap of skin against skin above the sounds of the spray of water as he couldn’t get enough of how you felt clenching around his cock.

Your body began to tense up and he could feel it too, your sounds growing louder with each deep thrust, and he was determined to push you over the edge to hear you meet your end. “Come for me,” he murmured against your lips, pulling them down to kiss the side of your jaw. “Let go, I need to feel you.”

You groaned at his request, rolling your hips to attempt to meet his thrusts while your body was tensing with each passing minute, but you were so close, feeling the coil within your belly ready to snap at any moment. The way he spoke, his voice low and ragged, God, he sounded so sexy. You pulled his face back to yours and kissed him sloppily, your tongue pushing its way into his mouth. 

Rick groaned into your mouth, your actions and the way you moved against him had left him feeling overwhelmed, but he wanted to give you what you needed. His fingers dug harder into your thigh, holding you there as he fucked into you, your back hitting the tile with wreckless intensity, but neither of you minded. He pulled your hips closer against his, his body moving against yours with more urgency. He was desperate for you, every fiber of your being consumed by his need for you.

“You taste like sin,” he panted against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip and pulling it with his teeth.

“Keep going, please Rick, getting close–” you moaned, resting your forehead against his as you caught small glimpses of his cock slamming into you. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ll always give you what you need.” With that, he kissed you deep, claiming your mouth with a need that was almost feral.

“Close–” you mumbled again.

Rick could feel your body trembling against his, the way you moved, the way you sounded, and he knew you were close to the edge. He was close too, the feel of you, he was teetering on his own edge. “Come for me, right now,” he urged, the strain almost too much as he tried to hold back how own orgasm just to make sure you came. 

Within seconds of his demand, your body snapped from being wound up so tightly, your head thrown back as much as you could as you cried out his name, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Your muscles shook and your entire body now felt weak beneath his grasp. 

As soon as your body tensed and he felt your pussy clench against him, pulling him in, he fell over the edge alongside you, his body shaking with the intensity of his own release. He held you up against the shower wall, allowing you both to ride out your highs, his body now trembling as he attempted to regain composure.

You panted heavily, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you in place. “Oh god, that was…amazing,” you said softly, rolling your head slightly against his as your arms wrapped gently around him. You could have stayed like this for longer if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. 

Rick let out a deep breath as he stroked your wet hair, trying to catch his own breath. “Amazing doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replied with a small breathy laugh. He leaned down slightly and placed a kiss on the top of your head before slowly, somewhat reluctantly, pulling away from you. 

“Maybe we should actually wash off this time,” you teased with a playful smirk, grabbing the soap from the floor and beginning to wash yourself from the mess you both made. 

Rick chuckled softly as he watched you clean yourself, his gaze softened as he came down from his high, now staring at you in a way that could be mistaken as smitten. “Probably a good idea,” he hummed, taking another moment to admire the way the water cascaded down your body, the way you moved, the way you would look up at him. “Keep looking at me like that and I'll have a difficult time keeping my hands to myself.”

“The feeling is mutual, but I shouldn't tempt you further until we're out of the shower,” you teased and handed him the soap, stepping out of the shower.

“Good, you're too distracting,” Rick teased as he grabbed the soap from you, cleaning himself off as quickly as possible to join you. 

“You're the distracting one,” you replied as you wrapped around towel around you, then smiled and gave him a little wave as you walked out and went to the bed, sitting on the edge as you waited for him.

Rick turned off the water and quickly dried himself with a spare towel, the image of you sitting on the bed, wrapped only in a towel fueling him to finish up. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before walking into the bedroom to join you. His eyes immediately found you, looking so happy as you greeted him with a soft smile. 

You patted the spot next to you and smiled softly, looking up at him as he looked so damn wonderful with the way his hair clung to his face, or the way he stood there in the doorway just looking at you. He made his way over to the bed, his eyes locked on yours the entire time as he sat beside you, his body almost involuntarily moving closer as though drawn like a magnet. The smell of the soap on your skin, the lingering taste of your lips on his, he couldn’t help but lean in and brush his thumb against your hair, pushing it from your face. 

“You’re irresistible, you know that?” He asked softly, his eyes taking in the little details of your face.

Your smile widened as you leaned in slightly into the touch of his hand, almost hesitant. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” you replied with a soft laugh, scooting closer to him as your legs touched. “I have a bad feeling I’m going to be addicted to you by the end of this trip.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how odd it sounded out loud, but you felt that it was right.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, his fingers gently skating across your skin. “I have a feeling you’re already addicted, sweetheart.”

You let out a playful chuckle and shrugged nonchalantly, shrugging off the realness of his observation. “Mhm, you know me too well already, but it’s not a bad thing. Only bad thing about it is when this trip is over…” you trailed off, your voice fading out as you realzied that not being able to see him after this was more painful than you’d realized. 

Rick felt the mood shift slightly at the mention of the trip ending, and he knew it was inevitable, but the thought of leaving you now after being able to touch you, to hold you, it was gut wrenching. The connection he’d felt with you, and not spurred on by you wanting him for his money, no, you wanted him. He didn’t want to lose that.

He sighed softly, his hand coming to a pause on your thigh. “Let’s not think about that right now,” he said softly. “Let’s just enjoy what time we have together.”

“But what if… I want more than that? I don’t want to let this go, Rick,” you said sternly, slipping your hand over his. 

He spent the last few hours convincing himself that this was a fling, a vacation fling, but hearing you say that you didn’t want to let this go, it forced him to come to terms with things he wasn’t prepared to feel. He took a deep breath as his fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently. “Sweetheart…” he said gently, his voice trailing off. “What are you trying to say?”

You sat up straighter, your hand gripped his as you looked him in the eyes and just stared at him for a moment. You wanted to read his expression clearly, see if what yo usaid next would have the effect you wanted. “What I’m saying is I don’t want this to end, Rick. The vacation will end, sure, but this, whatever we have between us, I don’t want it as just a fling.”

Rick tried to keep himself in check, he didn’t want to become too involved, yet heaning you say you didn’t want this to end was too much to resist. He’d felt empty when he got here, and yet your smile and your kindness had made him feel something other than the hollow hole in his chest. It wasn’t a significant change right away, but he’d felt happier than he had in a long while. “Are… are you sure? I don’t wanna get ahead of myself here, but this–” he gestured between you both– “I wanna keep that, too.”

“Of course, I’m sure,” you said with a gentle smile. “So I wanna keep this, no matter where we live, I’ll go to you, I don’t care. I want to make this happen.” You brought his hand up to your mouth and placed a gentle kiss against his knuckles, your eyes never leaving his. 

He felt his chest tighten as he listened to your heartfelt words, feeling your sincerity, the desperation in your voice to keep this, and he knew then that he’d fight for it, too. His thumb stroked your hand as he offered a smile. “I don’t care about the distance or where we live, as long as we can make this work. If you’re willing.”

You smiled wide and suddenly lifted yourself up, throwing your leg over his lap as you made yourself comfortable as you sat nestled against him. Your hands were on either side of his face as you pulled him into a passionate kiss. When you pulled away from him, your thumb gently brushed against his cheek, his stubble tickling your skin. 

“Then let’s make it happen, yeah?”

His hands instinctively came to rest on your hips as your lips met, kissing you back with that strained desperation he fought against, wanting to keep his cool. He was completely lost in you, intoxicated by the feeling of your body, the emotions you forced him to face, and the way your breath mingled with his. Pulling away for a moment, he stared up at you, his gaze soft and inviting as his eyes flickered across every little detail.

“Absolutely, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, resting his forehead against yours as he let out a heavy sigh. Somewhere deep down, he felt that maybe everything would be alright, and he was grateful that he ever visited the White Lotus. 

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Salty Kisses ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: We are all in desperate need of Quinn fics!!

Pairing: Quinn Mossbacher x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, smoking weed, Olivia being a bitch, nudes, mastrubation (m), making out, heavy petting, p in v sex, handjob, sort of public sex, creampie.

Summary: Joining your best friend Olivia on vacation meant facing your crush on her brother once again, but this year, you would make a move.

Word count: 7.6K (My longest one shot yet)

“Oh my god, who are these people?” Olivia sighed next to you. Looking at her from the corner of your eye, you smiled. She had a flair for the dramatics and could be a bit self important but you have known her since elementary school. After quickly becoming best friends, you often were allowed to accompany her and her family on their luxurious vacations.

This year was no exception as you had joined them on their vacation to Hawaii. Even though you felt like you and Olivia had slightly drifted apart, you joined them anyway. She was two years older than you but she had always said how that didn’t matter to her, and how mature you were for your age.

After a draining flight and almost losing your luggage at the pickup, you were glad to be relaxing on the boat. Both you and Olivia had separated yourselves from the other passengers, her parents and brother included. 

As you peered down at them from the heightened open cabin up top, you secretly checked out her brother. Quinn was a special type, and you’ve always had a thing for pathetic and nerdy boys. So how could you help yourself when your best friend had a brother exactly like that?

“So those two,” Olivia suddenly spoke up again, nodding towards the newlyweds at the back of the boat, “they just got married in the Hamptons. Her parents have a place there.” 

You observed the obnoxious couple taking cringey selfies. “I bet they met on Raya.” You added with a grin. 

“Totally.” Olivia smiles, both of you watching as the woman hangs off of her new husband. “She’s in fashion.” Olivia then announces. “Marketing.” You correct her. “He went to Dartmouth, international finance.” You add. Watching as Olivia’s dad takes a picture for the couple. 

“She loves him but-” Olivia starts.

“He’s got a small dick.” You laugh. Olivia chuckles before adding, “He’s a closet adderall snorter.” 

“Gives him an edge at work.” You agreed. “Makes his dick even smaller.” Olivia says before the both of you burst out laughing. The couple has no idea as they take even more pictures.

You continue to make up stories about the people that joined you on the boat before Nicole, Olivia’s mom, calls for you. “Hey girls.”

“What mom?” Olivia responds annoyed, the mood between you stale again. “Liv come up front, I think you can see the resort.” Nicole points, gesturing for the two of you to follow her. She was right however, The White Lotus slowly came into view.

Olivia sweetly took your hand to help you off the boat. The wooden dock rocked slightly beneath your feet before you stepped onto solid ground, the warmth of the island air wrapping around you. It felt good to be steady again. 

You exchanged a glance with Olivia, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, maybe amusement, maybe something else. A man with a neatly groomed mustache stood waiting, flanked by resort employees in crisp uniforms, their polite smiles already plastered across their faces.

As you approached them, the moustache man’s smile grew. “Mr. and Mrs. Mossbacher, hello! I’m Armond, the resort manager. Welcome to the White Lotus.” The man, apparently named Armond, greeted you with a thick Australian accent. 

“How was your journey here?” He asked as Nicole accepted the flower necklace from a staff member. You drowned out their conversation as you took another glance at Quinn, who was completely lost in his videogame on his Nintendo. 

When everyone started walking, you hurriedly joined them on the golf cart who was driven by a typical white surfer dude. During the short ride to the resort, you made small talk with Olivia, such as what you would do when you had unpacked, and before you knew it, it was time to get off.

The resort was very impressive, a beautiful calming design that still felt very luxurious. You expected nothing less from the Mossbachers who always booked VIP suites. The room itself was even better, beautifully decorated with a nice balcony and a pull up couch. 

You wondered where Quinn was going to sleep since there were only two designated beds, one for you and Oliva to share and one for her parents in an adjacent room. As you set your stuff down, your question is answered when Olivia orders Quinn to sleep in the tiny kitchen, while her parents are out of earshot of course. 

It surprises you how Quinn actually listens and locks himself in the stuffy room. Olivia pulls you with her and the two of you change into your bikini’s. When you were finished, you checked out the large balcony and agreed on going to the beach. Before you could actually leave, Nicole already called for you.

“Girls!” 

“Yeah?” Olivia responds as you strut back inside. “I would like to talk to you guys about, you know, just some of this clutter. Because this is going to be our common space, and I would love to try to, you know, just clear it out.” Nicole rambles as she walks around moving luggage. 

“Mom! We can take care of it later-” Olivia starts, but before she can even argue further her mom insists on taking care of it now. Of course. 

Nicole pulls open the tiny adjacent kitchen galley and is met with Quinn hunched over on the tiny bed, playing on his phone. “Quinn, why is your bed in here?” She says as she drops the stuff.

“Olivia said I have to sleep here.” Quinn sulkingly responds. Stupid butterflies already swirl in your stomach upon hearing his voice after the long time he hadn’t spoken. 

“Olivia, your brother is not sleeping in the kitchen.” Nicole scolded, turning to the two of you, bags in hand and ready to go. Olivia then walks over to peer inside the room that Quinn was residing in. “Why not?” She shrugs.

“Because it’s a tiny galley kitchen, and we’ve got this whole beautiful room.” Nicole scoffs. Olivia looks inside, Quinn already back on his phone again. 

“Mom, he's doing fine in there. Look, he's stimming. He can entertain himself for hours with just his own hand gestures! He’s fine in the kitchen.” She says sauntering back over to you.

Your brows furrowed at her words, feeling kind of shitty for being in such a beautiful place and then making her brother sleep in a windowless, suffocating room. “Olivia, no!” Her mother argued back, but Oliva already took your hand and led you to the door. 

“Mom you want him to sleep in here with us, he’s gonna jerk off to my best friend while she’s sleeping!” Olivia turned, as her mom stopped the two of you. “I don’t think-” You tried to interject but Olivia cut you off already.

“Mom! He’s fine, he’s being himself, gaming and fapping- and byeee!” Olivia yelled as she now fully pulled you with her out the door. The rest of the afternoon you and Olivia tried to catch as much sun as possible on the beach, occasionally taking a dip in the water to cool off.

As the sun started to set, you headed back to the suite to get dressed for dinner. You chose a beautiful but still casual flowy dress you bought for the vacation, Olivia dressed in shorts and a halter top. You were excited to see how the lobster bake turned out and had gotten quite hungry as you didn’t bring any snacks to the beach.

The outside dining area took your breath away, beautiful lights hung everywhere and you took it all in as you were being led to your table. To your delight, Quinn took a seat next to you and gave you a small smile as you sat down, which of course, you returned. 

You knew Olivia had always been very bitchy towards her brother, it had been normal in their relationship, but you still felt a tiny sting of guilt everytime you didn’t speak up to her about it. You also knew Quinn didn’t have any friends, apart from online, so you always tried to be nice to him.

The food arrived after fifteen minutes, while Olivia started a discussion with you about Hilary Clinton, something you were not entirely in the mood for tonight, but she could get offended if you didn’t indulge. Soon Nicole intervened and Olivia was quick to drop it. 

On your side, you could hear Quinn play one of his video games on his nintendo, finally you gave into the urge to ask him about it, to talk to him about anything. “Quinn, what game are you playing?” You asked sweetly, peering over to look at his screen. Olivia raised a brow at you.

Quinn visibly became red. “Oh uhm, just a game about an assassin, it’s really cool, I’ve been playing it for a while-” He couldn’t even finish talking before his sister cut him off. “Yeah, yeah she gets it. So we should probably head out for that walk you mentioned earlier.” 

You felt bad for Quinn, but remembered what Olivia meant. “Sure yeah. Maybe you can tell me more later, Quinn?” He nodded at your words, his cheeks still flushed as the light of his screen made it more noticeable. 

“Great, let’s go.” Olivia didn’t even ask her parents before she practically jumped out of her seat.

Excusing yourself at least, you followed her. As you joined her side, she led you to one of the younger guys working around the resort. “What did you think about the dude who drove the cart?” She asked with a smile, you already knew where she was heading. 

“Not my type, such a typical smooth brained surfer boy, I can’t with them.” You rolled your eyes. She laughed but composed herself as you approached the cute guy. Olivia had always been a bit obsessed with boys, it was all she could seem to think about, that and weed. 

You stood idly by her side as Olivia put on her flirtatious face and started to talk up the guy. Still, your eyes lingered on Quinn, who remained in your vision a couple feet away. He looked so adorable tonight, his short sleeve blouse really suited him and his hair was curly and messy, secretly just the way you liked it. 

Getting lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt Olivia poke at you. 

“Dude, hellooo? I said let’s go back to the room, I brought some weed we can smoke.” She suggested. 

“Sorry, zoned out a bit. But sure, let’s go.” Olivia followed your earlier line of sight, but she wasn’t convinced you might have been checking out her brother, so she ignored it.

The guy had gone back to serving and you followed Olivia back to the Trade Winds suite. You couldn’t get Quinn out of your mind as you undressed into your pj’s and put your hair up. Olivia rummaged around in one of her bags while you took a seat on your cutely made pull out bed. 

“Where the fuck is this thing.” Olivia cursed, sifting through multiple bags. After a while she found it and joined you with a grin. With a water bong and a ziplock bag of weed in her hands, the party could begin. But before she could stock the thing with the green substance, the door opened. 

Olivia hurriedly shoved it under you guys’ bedsheets and grabbed her phone, pretending to be busy. “Hey girls, already in your pajamas?” Nicole asked as she strolled through the room with her husband, Quinn following behind them. 

“Yeah we just wanted to chill and catch some sleep so we have more energy for the rest of the trip.” You answered. She smiled at you and headed for the bathroom with Mark. Quinn shot you a quick smile before disappearing in the galley kitchen.

After a while, they still remained in their rooms and it was around 10 pm already, Olivia presumed it was safe so she pulled the goods out again. “Fucking finally, sorry my family is so annoying.” She scoffed.

“I think you dislike them more than I do.” You chuckled, pulling out the lighter you had brought. “Sure.” She shrugged. Olivia stacked the bong and took the first hit. The lighter crackling through the quiet room. “Shh.” You giggled. Olivia tried not to laugh while taking another hit, before finally passing it to you.

As the smoke flowed through your throat and into your lungs, you felt a wave of relaxation hit you. You passed the bong back and forth, talking about some guys from school. After about fifteen minutes, you both really felt it. Your brain felt all woozy and fuzzy, your skin like a warm blanket wrapped around you. 

The whole room felt more serene and pretty. It had been a while since you smoked weed and it didn’t take long before you and Olivia giggled quietly among yourselves. “You know what we should do?” She laughed all of a sudden. 

You raised your brows at her. “Truth or dare.” She wiggled her brows at you, causing you to burst out laughing. Shushing you, she leaned in as if she was about to tell you her darkest secret. “You go first.” She whispered. You thought for a moment. “Truth.” 

“Boo you’re so boring.” Olivia giggled. “Whatever, just let me ease into it.” You said, leaning back on your hands. “Fine, have you… ever taken and sent a nude?” She asked with a lower tone, taking caution not to alarm anyone. You rolled your eyes at her.

“God you’re really going to hate this answer- no I have not.” You replied. She looked at you shocked. “Really? But you’re so hot. Like why haven’t you?” Shrugging at her words, you decide to turn the tables. “Truth or dare Livs.” Olivia let it go and picked dare. 

“Okay, I dare you… to go over to the next room and knock on their door!” You giggled. She gasped but climbed off the bed anyway. Sneakily you followed her as she opened the door as quietly as possible. You stayed in the doorway, watching as she quickly knocked and sprinted past you back into the room.

It caused you to close the door quicker and harder than you meant to but luckily no one woke up. As you ran back to the bed, Olivia layed back on, you waited with bated breaths- nothing happened. You then fell into a fit of laughter. 

“Okay you know what, I pick dare too.” You said after a while, the weed pushing you to be more bold. “I know a good one, I dare you, to let me take nudies of you!” She laughed. You cringed at her words. “I’m not sending them to anyone though!” You shrieked.

“Duh! Get up and take those clothes off girl!” Olivia ordered, grabbing your phone and pressing on the camera. You did as she said, the weed completely derationalising you. “Jesus you look hot.” She said, snapping pictures of your naked form.

When she was done, you put on your clothes before she showed them to you. You both crawled back in bed after that, the exhaustion hitting you hard.

Golden sunlight spilled through the grand windows, painting soft patterns across the sheets as you stirred. Just as your mind drifted between dreams and waking, a hand pressed against your shoulder.

“Wake up,” Olivia murmured, her voice groggy with sleep. “We’re getting breakfast soon.”

Sitting up, the door to Nicole and Mark's bedroom opened and they walked in the room, Mark sitting on the edge of you and Olivia’s shared pull out while Nicole checked on Quinn. 

Your mind felt clouded, weighed down by the remnants of sleep and the blurred edges of last night. Flashes of laughter, the ocean breeze, and the smell of weed hang at the edges of your memory, but nothing pieced together quite right.

Then, a sharp voice shattered the quiet.

“What the hell? Quinn! What are you doing on the floor?”

Nicole’s exasperation cut through the morning peace, snapping you into focus. You and Olivia turned your heads in unison, eyes landing on Nicole as she stood, arms crossed, staring down at Quinn with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

You could hear Quinn’s voice from the small galley kitchen. “There’s no air in here.” 

“Olivia!” Nicole shouted, you were in no mood for a fight between them but Nicole surely was. “What?” Olivia groaned, her head falling back on her pillow. 

“Your brother is stroking out in the kitchen!” Nicole stressed. “What? Dad- what the hell are you doing?” You sat up to see Mark massaging his daughter's foot. “You're so beautiful.” Mark muttered. “You're so smart.” He continued. “Don’t you think?” He turned to you. 

“Yeah.” You replied, Nicole now moving a bunch of stuff around in the living room, muttering to herself about the mess you guys made last night. Your heart sank as you noticed the water bong was still on Olivia’s makeshift nightstand. Mark noticed it too.

“Is that a water bong?” 

You turned to Olivia, your heart racing. “Hey, did you guys bring pot on the plane?” Mark asked, Olivia pulling her foot away from him. “We found it on the beach-” “It’s prescription-” Both of you spat out. Mark to your surprise simply rolled his eyes. 

Quinn appeared out of his room with his duvet wrapped around him, “They were partying all night and making weird lesbian noises.” He uttered while walking past, on his way to the bathroom. “We weren’t being lesbians dad.” Olivia sighed. “Uh- okay.” Mark mumbled. 

After Quinn finished getting dressed, you and Olivia changed quickly, eager to start the day. The three of you made your way to breakfast, the scent of fresh coffee and tropical fruit filling the air as you grabbed a quick bite. Conversations buzzed around you, clinking silverware, the occasional burst of laughter, the tranquil energy of resort life.

Once you’d eaten, Olivia’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Let’s check out the pool,” she said, already tugging you toward the suite. Back in your room, you grabbed your swimsuits, a towel, and a book before heading out again, the promise of cool water and warm sun pulling you toward the massive, glittering pools.

As you took in the pool area, your eyes swept over the impressive layout, barstools submerged in cool, glistening water, a shallow kiddie pool, an overwhelming number of lounge beds, and a designated diving section on the far side. 

It was the kind of luxury that felt almost surreal, but Olivia barely spared it a second glance before settling onto one of the larger canopy lounge beds, unimpressed.

“Today, I just want to read my book and ignore my family,” she sighed, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose before flipping open her book. The way she said it was so casual, yet so completely Olivia.

You smirked, shaking your head. “Alright, well, I’m going for a swim first. Be back soon.”

With that, you turned toward the steps, toes brushing against the water’s surface. The initial cold made you hesitate, but before you could psych yourself out, movement on the other side of the pool caught your eye.

Quinn.

His bright orange shirt clung to his torso, completely soaked as he trudged through the water, holding his phone and Nintendo high above his head in a desperate attempt to keep them dry. He was heading toward the bar, a little further from where you stood.

You hesitated, then took a breath. This was your chance to talk to him alone, without Olivia hovering nearby. That thought alone propelled you forward. Careful not to dunk your head under, you waded into the water, the coolness wrapping around you as you made your way toward the bar.

As you got closer, you noticed the familiar white stems of his AirPods in his ears. He probably hadn’t even realized you were there. A mischievous thought crossed your mind. Would it be too cruel to startle him, just a little?

Biting back a grin, you crept up behind him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Quinn jolted, nearly dropping his devices before whipping around, wide-eyed. His tense expression melted into relief when he saw you.

You laughed, settling onto one of the barstools beside him. “Sorry, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

Quinn paused his game, looking at you with something between surprise and uncertainty. He fumbled for words, and you suddenly became hyperaware of how rare these one-on-one conversations were. There had only been a handful of times you’d spoken to him without Olivia around, and every single time had been… well, awkward.

“Uhm- was I interrupting?” you asked, shifting slightly.

“No- no, it’s okay! I really don’t mind,” he rushed to say, his words stumbling over each other.

You smiled, sensing him relax. “Good, that’s good. So, tell me more about your game. Yesterday, Olivia kind of rudely interrupted our conversation.”

That got a reaction out of him. Quinn huffed, pulling his AirPods out completely. “Yeah, she’s just so annoying. Every time I even start talking, she tries to embarrass me.”

“I know. Sorry.” The words slipped out automatically, but when Quinn turned to you fully, you realized he wasn’t just brushing it off.

“Don’t apologize for her,” he said, his voice quieter but more serious. “I noticed you do that a lot around other people.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t get why you’re friends with her. You’re so much nicer than she is.”

His words caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, especially not to you.

“Thanks,” you said, a little softer this time. “But I’ve known her for a long time. She can be nice and fun… she just has her moments.” Even as you said it, you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Quinn let out a small chuckle. “If you say so.”

Not wanting the conversation to turn too serious, you quickly shifted gears. “So… back to your game,” you prompted.

That was all the encouragement he needed. For the next half-hour, Quinn talked, really talked- rambling and info-dumping about Assassin’s Creed with an enthusiasm that was almost contagious. You listened, asked questions, got completely caught up in his excitement. It was easy, effortless.

And then Olivia ruined it.

You caught sight of her from across the pool, waving from her lounge bed, beckoning you back.

“Shit- Olivia’s looking for me,” you muttered, more annoyed than you meant to sound.

Quinn’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh. Right. Well… I guess I’ll see you later.”

You hesitated for just a second before offering a small smile. “Later.”

Then, with a reluctant push off the barstool, you made your way back to the deeper part of the pool and swam toward the steps. As soon as you reached Olivia, she wasted no time launching into a round of questions about why you’d been hanging out with her brother instead of her.

You brushed it off, deflecting as smoothly as you could. “What chapter are you on?”

That was enough to distract her. She went on about her book, and soon, the conversation drifted into nothing. Before long, you found yourself relaxing again, even dozing off under the warm Hawaiian sun, though a part of your mind still lingered on your conversation with Quinn.

After dinner, you and Olivia headed to the bar to unwind before it got too late. A lingering tension still hung in the air from earlier, but you chose to brush it off, letting Olivia distract you as she scrolled through Tinder, nudging you to rate guys between sips of your drinks. 

The evening passed quickly in a haze of casual conversation and clinking glasses, and before long, you made your way back to the suite, the warm night air wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

When you stepped inside after changing, you noticed Nicole already in her pajamas, her expression tired but neutral. Quinn was there too, standing stiffly as his mom dragged out a spare bed into the open space near the kitchen galley. 

Olivia barely glanced up, already occupied with her phone as you plopped down onto the pull-out couch beside her.

It wasn’t until Nicole started adjusting the sheets that Olivia looked up, her brows furrowing. “Mom, what are you doing?”

You held back an annoyed groan. You already knew where this was going.

Nicole barely acknowledged Olivia’s tone, pressing the mattress down to smooth out a crease. “Your brother is gonna suffocate if he sleeps in the kitchen.” She huffed, setting the bed down just outside the galley kitchen.

Olivia scoffed. “So get him his own room.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed with warning. “Olivia. This is perfect,” she continued, ignoring Olivia’s attitude. “Quinn, you sleep here. You girls, be nice.”

You shot Nicole a small smile, hoping to ease the tension. She nodded in approval before disappearing into her room, her voice softer now. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nicole,” you replied automatically.

Quinn sat down on his makeshift bed, shifting uncomfortably on the thin mattress. His expression was guarded, but when you caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring smile, he returned it.

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Olivia broke it.

“We don’t want you in here.”

You barely had time to react before she cut off your attempted protest.

“Leave.”

Quinn stiffened. His fingers curled into the sheets before he scoffed, anger flashing across his face. “Fine! I’ll sleep on the fucking beach!”

Before you could stop him, he grabbed his stuff and stormed out.

“Liv, seriously?” You turned to her in disbelief.

“What? It’s better this way, trust me.” She barely spared you a glance, already getting comfortable under the covers.

You knew arguing wouldn’t change anything, so you swallowed your frustration. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, unease crept in. Maybe you should’ve gone after him. Maybe you still could.

But the thought of drawing attention to how much you cared, how much you wanted to go after him- kept you frozen in place. So you stayed.

And then, hours later, the door slammed open.

You jolted awake, Olivia stirring beside you. Quinn stormed inside, dripping wet, sand clinging to his clothes and hair.

Nicole and Mark scrambled out of their room, their voices laced with confusion and concern.

“Quinn, where have you been?” Nicole demanded, taking in the state of him.

“I slept on the beach,” he grumbled, shaking water from his arms.

“Why?”

“Because of her!” He pointed directly at Olivia, his voice rising with frustration. “She made me! And now all my stuff is ruined! My iPad, my phone, my Nintendo- everything is soaked!”

Your heart sank.

If you had brought him back last night, this wouldn’t have happened.

Nicole’s expression darkened. Before she could say anything, Quinn stormed off, locking himself in the galley kitchen.

Nicole turned to Olivia, fury in her gaze.

“It was his idea!” Olivia defended.

Nicole shook her head in disappointment. Without another word, she turned and walked back to her room, Mark following with a sigh.

“Told you,” you muttered before getting up, already grabbing clothes for the day.

Breakfast was tense. Quinn had calmed down somewhat, though his mood remained sour. He sat stiffly, barely touching his food as Nicole’s patience wore thin.

“I need your computer, Mom,” he said flatly.

Nicole exhaled through her nose, irritation clear. “Well, I do have work to do.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do all day?” Quinn snapped.

“Enjoy Hawaii. Get in the ocean.”

His expression barely shifted. “The o-” He hesitated. “I did see a whale last night. That… that was pretty cool.”

Nicole sighed, setting down her fork. “Well, you’re not sleeping out there again.”

“Mom, he likes it. He’s communing with nature,” Olivia said mockingly, rolling her eyes.

Nicole shot her a look. “It’s funny how you have so much compassion for strangers, yet you don’t care about your brother.”

Olivia scoffed, brushing her off.

Quinn spoke up again, his voice quieter this time. “I’m gonna need someone’s phone today.” His gaze flickered around the table.

His dad shook his head. His mom didn’t even entertain the idea. Olivia didn’t even pretend to consider it.

Then his eyes landed on you.

You hesitated for only a second. “Sure, you can use mine.”

Olivia’s head snapped toward you in disbelief. “What?”

You ignored her, unlocking your phone. “Here, let me just remove the password so you don’t have to ask me all day-”

“Dude, why would you give him your phone?” Olivia laughed like it was absurd.

You handed it to Quinn, ignoring her. He took it carefully, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer. “Thanks,” he said, quieter this time, but genuine.

Nicole smiled approvingly. “That is so kind of you. If only his sister was like that.”

Olivia ignored the comment, stabbing at her food.

The day passed under the Hawaiian sun, the ocean cooling your skin between lazy dips in the water. From across the beach, you caught glimpses of Quinn, completely engrossed in your phone. He looked happy.

When Olivia wasn’t paying attention, you smiled.

Dinner was a lavish seafood spread, accompanied by a special performance from local staff members. You tried to enjoy it, but Olivia and her mom quickly fell into another argument, souring the evening.

Afterward, you took a long shower before playing a few rounds of cards with Olivia, your phone still in Quinn’s possession. You won, much to Olivia’s dismay, but even that small victory felt hollow.

By the time it was dark, Quinn still hadn’t come back.

His parents had already retreated to their own space. Olivia was brushing her teeth, unaware of your growing concern.

You glanced at the clock. 11 PM.

When Olivia emerged from the bathroom, you made a silent decision, one you should have made the night before.

If Quinn wasn’t back by the time you finished getting ready for bed, you were going to find him.

With or without Olivia’s approval.

As you brushed your teeth, did your skincare routine and brushed your hair, you listened for the door opening but it never did. After fifteen minutes you came back in the room, Olivia had fallen asleep already and you knew it was the perfect moment to look for Quinn.

You snuck out of the room as quietly as possible, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. Barefoot, you made your way down the hall before reaching the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor, you started to follow the signs to the beach. Presuming he was in fact sleeping there.

The cool air of the night blew across your skin, reminding you you were in soft thin pyjamas that didn’t provide much warmth. You glanced around but didn’t see him yet. So you made your way through lounge beds and chairs, heading towards the beach.

QUINN'S POV:

Quinn huffed, stomping his feet on the sand, for the second time this vacation he dragged a lounge bed towards the water along with his duvet. He still had your phone clutched in his hand. When you handed it to him he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach, you cared about him enough to give up your own phone and you trusted him with it. 

He positioned the bed on the sand and got comfortable, pulling the duvet over his body. For a moment, he stared at the waves going back and forth. It was already dark but he didn’t feel scared, it was kind of relaxing to be able to sleep outside. Then he remembered your phone.

As he didn’t have to unlock it, it opened immediately. He was kind of getting bored of the mobile games and was thinking of what else to do. Would it be so wrong to take a look through your phone? He shouldn’t, but the idea was very tempting. Maybe he could find out if you somehow, in some universe, returned his feelings.

He knew it was a bullshit excuse but he was nosy, and how would you know? He started in your notes, nothing too special and mostly confusing things that were out of context. Next his eyes stilled on the ‘photo’s’ app, maybe he would find something on there. 

His stomach churned at the idea of violating your privacy like this, but the urge to sift through it pushed the feeling aside. Clicking on the icon, the app opened. 

Holy mother of god. Quinns mouth fell wide open as he was met with pictures of your naked body- in their shared suite.

Your tits on full display, your bare pussy too. There were about six different pictures, all were different poses. It must have been the night you smoked weed with his sister and had forgotten about it in the morning. Some were blurry but about four of them were crystal clear. 

He couldn’t help it, his cock was swelling the longer he stared at your perfect body. Usually just the image of you in a bikini at the beach did it for him but getting to see your naked body- jesus christ. 

Quinn felt horrible, he really did, he shouldn’t be seeing this. It wasn’t meant for him. Or was it? No, he shouldn’t think this way, it’s wrong...and yet his hand clicked on one of the better pictures, the full photo filling the screen. Your hot, naked, beautiful body filled the screen.

His cock was now so painfully hard, he had to take care of it, and he had already seen your naked body now. His free hand snuck under the covers, slid into his shorts and boxers. He let out a groan when his hand wrapped around his length. 

Shit- this was so fucked up, but he was not going to let this opportunity slide. His boxers were too tight for his hand to move freely, he put down your phone and removed his hard on from his underwear. With a quick glance around the beach, he resumed his movements.

Phone back in hand, other hand wrapped around his cock again, he let out soft grunts as he jerked himself off to your picture. And fuck did it feel good, your naked body completely on display for him so he could pleasure himself to it. 

Quinn tugged harder at his cock, letting his thumb occasionally glide over the precum that was now collecting in beads on his tip. Using it as a lube, it let his hand glide more comfortably over his length. “Oh fuck- yes-” He whispered to himself.

God he wished you did this on purpose, and right now, in his mind- you did. The thought spurred him on as his entire body burned with need. A sheen layer of sweat had spread over his skin. His eyes rolled back and lips parted in bliss. 

He pumped his cock faster, eyes locked on the picture before him, he felt like he was going to cum already- much faster than normal. He was so fucking close.

YOUR POV:

Your feet got swallowed by the sand, making your footsteps soundless as you made your way down the beach. Eyes flicking over the horizon, you noticed a familiar mop of hair laying on a lounge bed. Quinn.

Feet carrying you faster, you almost reached him before you heard the quiet groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Was he- jerking off? Everything in you screamed to leave right now but when you got a bit closer, you noticed our own phone in his hand. 

Oh. My. God. 

Your own naked body filled the screen- the nudes Olivia took as a joke when you were high. You completely forgot about them, and now you saw how Quinn's hand was moving frantically under his sheet, sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. 

Weirdly enough, anger didn’t bloom in you, but something else entirely. Your heart sped up at the sight of him, that familiar feeling starting to throb between your thighs. Was it even more wrong of you to get off on this? Clearly he was into you as well.

Before you could regret it, you walked to the side of his lounge bed. His movements immediately stilled as he scrambled to turn your phone off. “Holy sh- I’m so sorry! No- no- no- no, I- I’m sorry!” Quinn fully freaked out now, both his hands above the duvet. 

He didn’t notice the smile on your face. “I’m so sorry! Please!” His eyes started to tear up, still he refused to look at you. “Quinn- Quinn!” You interrupted him. “I’m- I’m not mad at you. It’s okay-” He looked at you finally, shock plastered on his face. 

“What?” He couldn’t believe what was happening, did you leave these for him? “Olivia and I got high and we did truth or dare, she dared me to take nudes, I forgot about them in the morning.” You explained, now taking a seat by his covered feet. He did not say anything.

“Do- do you like me?” You decided to ask instead. His entire face was red at this point, and he was embarrassed to admit to himself that he was still hard. Quinn nodded shamefully, he didn’t dare say anything, he was too ashamed of himself. 

“Maybe I like you too.” As those words left your lips, Quinn’s eyes blew wide. Did you really mean that, or was his sister around too and were you playing a prank on him? “And...maybe, I find it kind of hot, you found those photos.” He still couldn’t believe it. 

“What?” It was the only thing that he could say at the moment. Your laugh broke the silence. “You never noticed huh? Why do you think I’ve been trying to make an effort lately? I like you Quinn.” His lips parted once more, eyes still wide, was this a joke?

“I didn’t- notice, are you serious?” He looked at you, still in disbelief as you sat in front of him. You nodded. He looked around the beach, no one else was here. “Can I uhm- touch you?” Now it was him who nodded. 

So you leaned forward, closing in as you scooted closer to him. His eyes were hooded, a pink flush across his cheeks. Quinn’s gaze was now on your lips. Your hand rose to meet the soft skin of his cheek, he closed his eyes upon feeling you. 

Leaning in, you closed your own eyes, before your lips carefully met his. They slotted together perfectly and after a gentle sweet peck, you backed up. “How was that?” You whispered. “G-good.” He replied, his eyes opening, begging for more.

“Have you ever, you know, been with a girl?” His red cheeks deepend at your question, shame filled him once more when he shook his head. “That’s okay, would you like to?” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he nodded. “Tell me Quinn.” 

“I want to, really really badly, especially with you.” He whispered, too afraid to speak up. You smiled and leaned in again. This time he met you halfway and you could taste the lemon soda he had earlier. But he didn’t back up, he placed his hand carefully on your thigh, while your hand rested on his cheek again.

It was him who deepened the kiss, growing more hungry by the second. Quinn couldn’t help himself when you placed your other hand on his neck and softly traced your tongue along his bottom lip, he whimpered. 

You could feel how you were throbbing at this point, it had been a while since a guy had you this worked up. When he allowed you to fully tease him with your tongue, you too let out a muffled moan. Quinn was still hard beneath the sheet, and the kiss only made it worse.

He became more and more desperate, his tongue now met yours and it set your entire body on fire. You really hoped Olivia wouldn’t come out here, because if she did, she would be faced with her brother's tongue down her best friend's throat. 

Your hand that rested on his neck gently went down his body, feeling his warm chest still covered by his blue t-shirt. So you sat there under the cover of the stars, sloppily making out with your best friend's brother.

After a couple of minutes, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to touch him, for him to touch you. So you separated yourself from him. “Would you like to take this further?” He nodded at your words, before his face fell. “I don’t really know what to do though.”

“That’s okay, I do, don’t worry. If you want to stop we’ll stop.” He chuckled at your words, “Trust me I don’t want to stop.” It earned a smile from you before you kissed him again. “Mh- I’m still hard.” He confessed, muffled against your lips. Did he want to spur you on more?

“I would absolutely love to suck you off, but I need you inside me right now.” You whispered once you parted from him again. His eyes followed your movements as you removed your pyjamas, your bare tits met his eyes and he couldn’t look away. 

You removed your underwear as well, before climbing in his lap. “Don’t we need a condom?” He stammered out. “I’m on the pill, we’re good.” You said before pecking his lips. Then you helped him remove his shirt, finally you could gawk at him without it being weird. 

“You’re so fucking hot Quinn.” You almost moaned, it drove him to quickly remove his shorts and boxers beneath the sheets. When you pulled back the sheets, you looked down to see his erection leaking pre-cum. 

“Fuck- a good dick too.” You bit your lip, Quinn’s ragged breathing filled the salty air. “Please- It hurts-” Quinn begged, his hand wrapping around his cock to squeeze himself. You positioned yourself right over his groin and placed your hand on his to drag his tip through your soaked folds. 

You both moaned in unison, it felt way too good. Already you were addicted. Quinn removed his hand to let you take the lead, allowing you to guide his tip to your entrance. You were so wet at this point, the head of his cock easily slipped in. 

Quinn choked on his breath- it was the best thing he had ever felt. Finally he would know what it was like. He begged for you to continue, so you sank lower on his hard length, moans leaving your own lips as he stretched you out. “Fuck Quinn- you’re thick-” You gasped.

When you had fully taken him, you allowed yourself a moment to adjust. Leaning your forehead on his, both your breaths mixed. Quinn then set his feet on the lounge bed, preparing for your movements. 

Stabilising your knees, and hands on Quinn’s chest, you started with gentle grinds on his cock. “Fuck!” Quinn strangled out, the way your walls clenched around him made him see stars. You too started to moan when you fully fuck yourself on his dick. 

Switching between rocking and bouncing, you set a delicious pace as you both chased your highs. “Please- feels so good-” Quinn babbled as his hand now shot to your hips, holding you steady as you fucked him faster. 

If anyone wanted to enjoy a nice night walk now, you were screwed. “Quinn! Fuck baby!” You lost your own mind, but you needed more. You couldn’t cum from just his cock inside you and you noticed he was already getting close.

“Put- put your thumb on my clit-” You breathed out. Quinn started to lightly panic, he had no idea what to do. After a while, you grabbed his hand and guided it between your thighs, halting your movements. 

“Here, put your thumb- like that yes- and just press and move it- fuck like that!” Quinn quickly got the hang of it and you resumed your movements. Your mind was in the clouds and Quinn’s moans and whines only spurred you on more.

Sure his movements on your clit were sloppy as he was very focused on the way you bounced on him but it still did the job. His other hand couldn’t resist grabbing at your left breast, massaging it in his hand. He knew he was not going to last much longer, he wanted you to finish as fast as possible.

“I’m close Quinn- don’t stop-” You moaned, your mind going hazy and movements sloppy as you felt your orgasm near. With particularly fast movements from Quinn on your clit, your breath hitched and you clenched hard around his length as you came.

It was impossible to hold in your cries as your climax consumed you, you held on to Quinn for dear life, who tried to warn you before his own orgasm hit him. It was too late, with a cry of your name he filled you with his cum. The two of you holding on to each other tightly.

“Fuck yes baby fill me- fill me-” You gasped, his spent warm inside you. “Such a good boy-” He moaned at your words, he was sure he had never come this hard in his life. Wrapped around each other, you stayed like that for a while.

“Was it good? Your first time?” You asked, leaning back a bit to kiss his cheek. His dick had softened inside you, but neither of you dared to move. “It was amazing, thank you.” He breathed out, still on a high. 

“Good.” You chuckled. It felt good to be wrapped up in his arms, to hold him. His spent still inside you, leaking out already. What you did not realise was a person standing far, far away at the entrance of the beach. Your eyes flicked over as you noticed them.

Shit- Olivia.

Dividers by: @v6que

[lovelymylene]

LOCHLAN SMUT PLEASEEE everything im seeing is so fluffy but we all saw the way he kisses so um 👀

PINKY PROMISE

lochlan ratliff and reader smut

The boat sways gently beneath you, the ocean stretching endlessly into the dark. Everything feels too much, the soft hum of waves, the distant laughter below deck, the warmth of your skin against the cool night air. You’ve never done drugs before, and now you’re out of your mind, your senses cranked up to a hundred. You can feel everything. The way the wind grazes your arms, the rough texture of the boat’s carpet beneath you, the erratic thudding of your own heart.

Lochlan sits across from you, legs crossed, his fingertips trailing absentmindedly over the floor. His pupils are blown, his lips parted like he’s trying to catch his breath even though he hasn’t been running. You’re hugging your knees to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but you can’t. You’re both too aware, and it’s making you jittery.

It’s not like everyone else. They’d crashed a while ago, scattered below deck, passed out in a tangle of limbs and abandoned drinks. But you and Lochlan? You’re still here. Stuck in this hyper-aware, touch-starved limbo.

You try to distract yourself, rambling about the game earlier, how ridiculous it was, how terrifying it felt in the moment. Lochlan listens, a lazy smirk on his face, nodding along as you giggle.

“You practically made out with Saxon,” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.

He groans, rolling his eyes, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re bringing it up. “That was barely making out.”

You laugh harder than you should, breathless and lightheaded. It feels like you can’t stop. It’s like everything is funny right now.

Lochlan chuckles too, but then his laughter fades, his smile lingering but different now. A little tense. A little hesitant.

You’re still giggling to yourself when he finally speaks.

“Saxon kissed you.”

Your breath catches slightly.

“He was practically trying to eat you,” he adds, and his voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it. Something unreadable.

Your stomach twists.

“Yeah,” you mumble, pressing your cheek against your knee. “It was… weird.”

He watches you carefully.

You exhale, licking your lips. “Like, it was rough.” You frown slightly, trying to piece together the right words. “Like I had to force myself to like it.”

Lochlan’s fingers flex slightly on the carpet. His knee bounces once before stopping.

Then he says, “I could do a better job than that.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, before you burst into laughter. You’re convinced he’s joking.

But he doesn’t laugh.

He just looks at you, waiting.

Your smile falters slightly, your heart hammering against your ribs. You try to play it off, voice wobbly as you tease, “You don’t have any experience.”

He smirks a little. “I wouldn’t try to swallow you.”

That warmth in your stomach spreads, creeping up your neck. The boat sways gently, and suddenly, you feel weightless.

“Can I try?” he asks, voice softer this time.

You don’t say yes.

You don’t say no, either.

And he doesn’t know what that means, so he just leans in.

Your breath stutters, but you don’t move away.

At first, it’s just a peck, soft and fleeting. He pulls back, grinning like this is the funniest thing in the world, but you’re not laughing.

He notices.

This time when he leans back in, it’s different.

His lips press into yours again, slow and unsure but eager, and you kiss him back, tentatively at first. He exhales through his nose like he’s relieved, like he wasn’t sure if you’d kiss him back at all. His hands slide down your back, hesitating before settling on your hips.

It’s awkward and clumsy and neither of you care.

You rest your hands on his shoulders, unsure, barely touching, until he presses forward, his weight gently easing you onto the carpet. Your back meets the floor, and then he’s above you, hovering, breath shaky, eyes locked on yours.

The world around you fades, the ocean, the boat, the distant murmurs from below deck.

Just you. Just him.

His lips find yours again, and this time it’s deeper. Slow. Uncertain. His hands tighten on your waist, then drift lower, settling just above your thighs like he’s testing the waters.

You exhale sharply against his mouth, gripping his shoulders tighter. He tilts his head, pressing closer, and your stomach flips, heat coiling low in your belly.

The touches are hesitant, inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter.

As you and Lochlan's kiss deepened, you felt something inside you ignite, an ache that spread through your body, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction. You pushed yourself up, your chests pressing against each other, and Lochlan's hands instinctively slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly, anchoring you to him.

You could feel his need, matching your own, as he pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You moved together, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate. Lochlan's fingers dug into your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Lochlan’s breath was uneven, his forehead barely brushing against yours as he hovered over you. The moonlight reflected off the water, painting shifting silver patterns across his skin. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his pupils dark and blown wide.

He wasn’t trying to be rough, it didn’t suit him. But there was something different in the way he touched you now. A little more sure of himself, a little more desperate. His hands traced tentative patterns down your sides, warm and steady, but there was an urgency to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.

Your heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out the waves lapping against the boat. You gasped softly when his fingers skimmed under the waistband of your bikini bottoms, not entirely pushing, just testing. Your hand instinctively closed around his wrist, stopping him.

Lochlan froze. His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to search your face, eyes flicking between yours, afraid he’d pushed too far.

“I—” he started, voice rough, but you shook your head quickly.

“It’s not that,” you whispered, though you weren’t even sure what that was. “You just…you donn’t know what you’re doing. Not really.” And the thought sent a nervous chill down your spine, despite the heat between you.

Lochlan let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Well, neither do you.”

You squinted at him, narrowing your eyes, and he smirked, soft, teasing, almost offended.

“Please…” His voice dropped, quiet and pleading. “Lemme try. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Just Lochlan. Just the boy who had spent the whole night laughing with you, the boy who looked at you like you were something delicate and precious, even as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

Finally, you nodded.

His lips parted slightly, exhaling in quiet relief. But before he could do anything, you grabbed his face between your hands, making sure he was looking right at you.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered, voice firm despite the way it wavered at the edges. “I mean it. No matter how much Saxon gets in your head, you can’t spill.”

Lochlan’s brows furrowed. “Saxon doesn’t get in my head.”

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Promise me.”

Something flickered behind his eyes before he sighed, holding out his pinky. “I won’t tell. Pinky promise.”

You hesitated for half a second before wrapping your pinky around his.

The moment you did, he pressed you back down against the soft, warm deck, lips crashing onto yours again, filled with a new kind of urgency. His fingers dipped under your waistband, dragging your swim bottoms down just enough for him to kiss along your stomach, slow and reverent, like he was worshiping you.

You feel his hands on your bikini bottoms, pulling it down slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you want to. But you remain motionless, staring at the ceiling, silently granting him permission to continue.

As the fabric slides down your legs, you sense his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. He lets out a barely audible breath, his voice a husky whisper that seems to vibrate against your flesh.

With deliberate care, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The position is intimate, vulnerable, and you feel a flutter of trepidation mixed with excitement. You're not sure where this is headed, but you trust him enough to follow wherever he leads.

His fingers brush against your inner thighs, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. You hold your breath, anticipating what might come next. Instead of plunging ahead, he parts your legs the slightest bit, as if savoring the taste of uncertainty.

Then, without warning, his face descends, his breath hot against your core. You gasp, your body tensing reflexively, but he continues undeterred,he moves closer and presses a feather-light kiss against your clit. The sensation is electric, and you can't help but clamp your thighs around his head, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment washing over you.

"Ow," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your grip. "Sorry," you whisper.

He returns between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your slick folds in long, languid strokes. Each pass sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your hips twitching involuntarily in response. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close, unsure whether to guide him or not.

As he works, his nose occasionally brushes against your clit, the slight friction adding another layer of pleasure. Your moans grow louder, more urgent, your body beginning to quake with the approaching climax.

His movements become more insistent, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every hidden crevice. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind foggy with the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, a particularly skilled lick sends you over the edge. A strangled cry tears from your throat as your body seizes, convulsing in your orgasm. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling the sound as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

When you start to relax, you release your death grip on his hair, panting heavily. He looks up at you, mouth wide curled into a shocked smile and he laughs at the sound you made. Without warning, he peppers your thigh with soft kisses.

Irritation flickers across your features as he laughs at your post-orgasmic vulnerability. You shove his forehead half-heartedly, trying to hide the pure utter embarrassment in your face. He catches your wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and presses a tender kiss to your palm.

Satisfied with the gesture, you relax into the carpet, the cool fibers a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from your skin.

With a contented sigh, he reaches over to gently tug your bikini bottoms back into place, covering your still-sensitive flesh.

He lays beside you on his back quietly. The both of you breathing heavily but at different paces, chests rising up and down at different times. Not even looking at you. And you not looking at him. Almost trying to see if you regret what you had just done.

Neither of you speaks, content to drown in the aftermath of your shared experience. Eventually, you both turn to face each other, exchanging smiles.

Breaking the silence, you both erupt in laughter.

sorry this is so long but this was my first time writing smut and I was feeling like Shakespeare.. I got a lot of requests and I’m trying to do them all in a short span of time..

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt

[ddlydevotion]

obsessive! Rick Hatchett x fem reader hcs ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

currently listening to: Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey

warning: nsfw content ahead

- Rick is a man who is described to have a chip on his shoulder. He grew up incredibly angry at the circumstances he was born into, and his anger lead to him running from his life for so long. His bitterness stems from the fact that he never got the opportunity to know his father, but when you come around, his flaring anger tends to simmer down.

- Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a hot-head even after the two of you get together but you manage to calm him down at times. It took him quite awhile to open up to you about his past, but when he does, your fate is sealed. He’s never going to let you go, I mean how could he?

- he doesn’t seem like the type to completely isolate you from your friends and family, but he’ll make snide comments about them. Y’know that moment in episode 2 where Chelsea is telling Rick about the friend she made and then he proceeds to call the girl a hooker? That’s basically his attitude towards most of your friends.

- if one of your friends/family members ends up doing something that upsets you, he’ll comfort you the entire time while saying:

“I knew they were bad news.”

“I know, I know, baby. I tried to tell you.”

- he is stubborn. If he doesn’t want you to go somewhere by yourself, then you’ll feel better just listening to him because he’s not gonna change his mind. In his head, he’s doing this for your own good. He knows what’s best for you.

- He’ll do everything in his power to have you stay back at the White Lotus when he heads off to Bangkok. You worry endlessly and he knows it, so he’ll take it upon himself to call & text you regularly. He’s much more worried about leaving you all on your own, though. If you even try to go with him he’ll quite literally lock you in your shared room.

- you get so shy when he looks at you because it’s almost as if he’s looking right through your soul. Anyone could tell how infatuated he is with you just by the way he looks at you. You often find yourself looking down to escape his intense gaze, but he immediately places his hand on your chin to make you face him.

“C’mon, you can look at me, sweetheart. I’m not gonna bite’cha.”

- He tags along to do things that you enjoy because he’s obsessed with being around you. That doesn’t stop him from making little comments, though.

- you know him incredibly well at this point and you can’t help but smile at his small complaints. You don’t take any offense to it, if anything, you find it funny.

- Has a tendency to get a bit touchy when he leans in for a kiss. First, he’s leaning in to kiss you, and the very next second he’s placing you on his lap before needily sucking on your sensitive nipples.

- sucking on your tits is one of his favorite things to do during foreplay + while he’s balls deep inside of you. He’ll toy with your clit achingly slow as he suckles on your tits, smiling against you when he hears you whine in frustration at his slow pace.

- it’s very common for the two of you to go on trips together.

- he smokes a lot less weed now that he’s met you. The entire reason as to why he even started was to slow his thoughts down. But, now he has you and there’s no need for a pesky little plant now.

A/n: requests are always open 💌🐻.

[houseofaegon]

WICKED GAME ch. 1 ✩ Sebastian Stan

STATUS: Work In Progress.

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Fem!OC.

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. angst, very slow burn, cheating, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. all warnings will be updated on each chapter.

Summary: Genevive Amelia Rothschild, a heiress with a diamond ring she doesn't want. Sebastian Stan, a Hollywood heartthrob hiding from the world. One summer at the White Lotus, and everything begins to unravel. Marriage. Money. Secrets. And one man she was never supposed to touch.

Word count: 1910

masterlist. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3.

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𓇢𓆸 Genevieve Rothschild.

Marriage.

What a strange word.

To some, it's the promise of forever. A vow made in whispers and sealed with touch—a union of hearts that long, souls that ache with passion, and shared futures. Laughter in quiet kitchens, soft footsteps down familiar hallways, soft pants, and whispers at midnight.

But for her, marriage had never been about love. Not really. Not in the world she was raised in. It was nothing but a contract, a performance, a careful and crafted negotiation between families with last names that made headlines and had the power to either bankroll political campaigns or destroy the life of a mere mortal. She had known this since she was a girl—watched it happen firsthand over oysters and Bordeaux, witnessed the subtle currency of eye contact at charity galas, the gossiping of mothers to charming suitors speaking about their daughters as objects at an auction.

Love? No. That didn't exist. Strategical partnership? That's more like it.

Genevieve Amelie Rothschild. Ginny, if she liked you. If you could keep up. Heiress to the entire Rothschild fortune. Any man would be a fool if he didn't tried to make a woman like Genevieve fall in love. Not because of her insatiable beauty, but because of who she is. Who her family is.

She was set to inherit the throne if she married a man of wealth. Her father's entire company, every vacation home at the Hamptons, every million dollar car, every single penny. All for her. The only child. The firstborn child.

She had to marry by force, a man whom will only bring more power and wealth to the Rothschild name. A man with a last name just as powerful as hers, but not enough to overshadow. A mere strategically crafted love story.

But, of course, that was not was Ginny wanted. Fuck no. Absolutely not. Never in a million years

She had always been a problem—wrapped in silk, high couture, and gold. A hurricane in high heels. The press called her wild. Her mother called her exhausting. Ginny called herself honest. Always too loud, always too reckless, always too much. And never sorry.

They never knew what to do with a girl like her. A girl who had everything but craved more. Something real. Something that couldn't be bought or arranged, or promised with a million-dollar diamond ring. She didn't want the title, the legacy, the entire empire.

She wanted to feel something. Anything.

By twenty-five, Ginny had been expelled from three boarding schools, photographed with too many men, featured in the headlines far too many times, and engaged to exactly the one her parents had picked. Harrison Aldrige III—handsome, rich, and so perfectly fucking boring. The kind of man whose cufflinks cost more than a car and who smiled like he'd never once been told no.

He kissed her like he was checking a box. Touched her like she was porcelain—expensive, delicate, cold.

He wanted her. Of course he did. Only a fool wouldn't desire a woman so beautiful and so powerful like Genevieve. But she despised him, despised how poised he was, how quiet, how beautifully spoken he was, how educated, how eloquent.

How fucking boring.

Their entire wedding was already a circus. Dior gown. Billion-dollar venue. A guest list so elite it read like a Fortune 500 wet dream. Harrison said he was going to make her the happiest wife—trophy wife to be precise. Her mother said it would be the wedding of the season. Her father called it "an alignment of futures and legacies."

Ginny called it fucking bullshit.

After one particularly unfortunate run-in with paparazzi, with only 1 month until the wedding, her mother intervened. The kind of intervention that came with couture luggage, a private jet, and a one-way ticket to nowhere.

"You're going," Vivienne had said. Her mother always so poise and refined. "Take the time to rest. Stay out of the news. No cameras. No trouble. Just you and the beautiful Sicilian ocean."

So she did.

She disappeared.

The White Lotus in Sicily was hidden in the cliffs above Taormina, built into the bones of old stone and kissed by sea salt and sun. The kind of place where time seemed to slow down. Where the staff wore soft shoes and spoke in lower tones. Where the guests came not to be seen, but to forget that anyone might be looking.

Ginny hated how beautiful it was. How untouched. How classy. How calm. How easy it would be to play along—to pretend she belonged here like everyone else like she wasn't crawling out of her skin.

Her suite was carved into the hillside, pale and open, with gauzy curtains and a plunge pool that overlooked the beautiful sea. There were lemons on the trees and expensive champagne in the fridge. She didn't unpack at first. She just let her clothes live inside of Louis Vuitton bags and laziness.

For three days, she drifted.

Poolside afternoons, designer sunglasses, extremely overpriced cocktails she finished so quickly. She wore white silk and designer swimsuits like a second skin and gold jewelry that glinted in the sun. She ignored her mother's messages. She wanted to throw her phone into the clear ocean every single time Harrison's name lit up the screen. Smoked long, thin cigarettes on the balcony while sipping blood-red wine. Watching the sky change colors and wondering if she could change with it.

She tried to be still. Tried to be silent. She tried so fucking hard to want the life everyone else wanted for her. To want the ring. To want the man. The photo ops. The charity galas. The meticulously planned Instagram captions. The fucking act. The marriage and the wedding.

But she couldn't do it.

But still, the ache remained. Low, constant, suffocating. That edge of her that couldn't be smoother down.

She wasn't relaxed. She felt restrained. Like a wire pulled tight and waiting to snap.

She needed to feel. To live. To be herself, let loose, go out, have fun, have sex and wake up in a stranger's hotel room.

She wanted to love.

But, of course, that would never happen. No man even tried to flirt back, no man could. At the end of the day, Genevieve Rothschild was nothing more than an engaged woman. And everyone knew it.

Fucking boring.

Until breakfast on the fourth morning.

Ginny sat at her usual table, under the shade of an ancient olive tree, the linen of her black dress soft and cool against her already sun-warmed skin. Her cappuccino had gone cold, and she wasn't at all interested in reviving it. Instead, she sipped her third Aperol Spritz with the kind of casual defiance that came naturally to her.

Families around her seemed happy. Real. She couldn't tell if that made her jealous or just fucking sick.

The Di Grassos, whom she had barely spoken to, sat a few tables ahead. The youngest of them, Albie, kept glancing back at her—nervous, pink-cheeked, practically radiating good intentions.

Adorable.

She gave him a slow smile and a lazy wave of her fingers.

Sweet. Too sweet. He would break far too easily.

Then, she noticed it.

The staff, subtle but unmistakable—shoulders straighter, steps lighter. A hush passed like a ripple across the patio. Valentina, the hotel manager, suddenly flitting from server to server, sharp-eyed and trying too hard not to seem obvious.

Ginny noticed. She knew. Of course she knew.

Someone had arrived. Someone important.

She'd been used to things like this her entire life.

A man in dark sunglasses and a black baseball cap walked through the lobby, trailing expensive luggage and the kind of energy you couldn't buy. It rolled off him like heat. Dominant, controlled, deliberate.

Familiar. So familiar.

He followed Valentina with the air of someone used to being followed, but no longer interested in it. Ginny couldn't see his face. Not yet. But she felt him.

Felt the shift.

There was static in the air, and the weight of someone trying so hard not to be seen made everyone look harder.

Her gaze followed him as he walked. Her heart did something strange. Her stomach was tighter. A tension she hadn't felt in weeks. Months. Maybe years.

She sat up straighter.

Something about him pulled at her. Unnamed. Untouched. Unknown

But not for long.

And just like that, she wasn't bored anymore.

Not bored. Not restless.

Interested.

And something dangerously close to thrilled.

She stood up, slowly. Her heels made a clinking sound against the stone patio as she made her way to the breakfast buffet. The spread was mouthwatering—sliced figs, honeycomb, freshly baked pastries still steaming in their baskets, wedges of Parmigiano, blood oranges, you name it. She wasn't really hungry, but she wanted something to do with her hands. Something to distract her, keep her mind occupied, something other than alcohol and cocktails.

She reached for a cluster of grapes, slowly pulling them from the vine and dropping them into her ceramic plate. Her other hand hovered over a wedge of melon. Her eyes were focused on the pink flesh, but her mind was still thinking of him.

Who was he?

A voice beside her made her pause. "They're saying he's a well-known celebrity."

Ginny blinked. She turned her head slowly, catching Albie Di Grasso in her peripheral vision. He stood beside her, slightly hunched, a nervous smile on his lips like he wasn't sure if he was even allowed to talk to her. His cheeks were slightly pink, his dimple making an appearance. So sweet. So naive. Practically shaking in his own swim trunks.

Ginny raised a brow, slicing a piece of prosciutto and placing it delicately beside her fruit. "Oh yeah?" she asked, her voice slow. "And what kind of celebrity are they saying he is?"

Albie cleared his throat, adjusting his stance as if trying to seem taller, more composed. “I—I don’t know exactly. Just… that he’s famous. One of the staff said they recognized him but wouldn’t say who. He checked in under a fake name.”

A fake name, huh?

Ginny turned to him fully now, tilting her head slightly as she leaned in—not too close, just enough to make him hold his breath. Albie blushed. Visibly. She grinned and reached out, lightly patting him on the chest with the back of her hand—just enough to make him freeze in place. He was warm beneath the linen of his shirt, his heart practically pounding against her fingers. Adorable.

“If you hear anything more,” she said, voice dropping slightly, velvet smooth, “come find me.”

“O—okay,” he stammered, blinking far too fast.

She winked and turned, the skirt of her dress catching the air as she walked away.

She could still feel him watching her.

Back at her table, she sat slowly, elegantly, setting her plate down with a delicate clink of ceramic. But her appetite had vanished. Her fingers toyed with a grape, spinning it in place.

The presence lingered, but the mystery man never returned. He was probably hiding inside his suite. 

Her sunglasses were still on, but her eyes were everywhere—sweeping, searching, tracking every glance from the staff. Every whisper. Every hush that fell too suddenly, every curious flick of a head toward the entrance.

He was famous. Someone important. Someone who didn’t want to be found.

She took another sip of her drink, lips parting as the bubbles tickled her tongue—a small smirk forming on her lips. 

Oh, yes.

This trip just got so much better.

[ar3-y0u-l0st]

》 🅆🄷🄸🅃🄴 🄻🄾🅃🅄🅂

Requests: Open / Closed

"I must consult with the Elder Gods"

> Raiden

- LIU KANG

- RAIDEN

- FUJIN

- KUNG LAO

- KUNG JIN

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

(*) Will not, under any circumstances, write smut

(**) If you're into them then I won't deprive you ig

[samsayswhatever]

Saxloch ao3 fic

Summary: Lochlan realizes he has the power to make Saxon flustered. After Lochlan straddles Saxon in a spare bedroom, things get out of hand. (Set on the boat right after s03e05 ends)

Some tags: Lochlan's POV, locky is twisted and knows it, botton Saxon, Angst and Fluff and Smut, ok - lots of smut, happy ending

image credit

[testadimoros]

hi there, everybody. I'm gonna be taking a crack at writing cameron from white lotus, and would love some threads. don't be afraid to approach me, I love chatting, and writing with new partners. here's hoping we hit it off.

[loveaffairxc]

location: white lotus hotel at the bahamas, august 2022

character: jenny manteya, 34

you are her fiancé(e), m/f/other, they came here to work on their marriage

“Gosh this liquor is strong” jenny exclaimed, taking a shot and grimacing once the lemon was in her mouth. it was strong but it felt good, it felt like a distraction from all her problems.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Need a ride?

Pairing: Valentin x reader (female)

Authors note: this was not planed, but that scene with Valentin on the bike was just too hot to process. You can officially blame my cat who woke me at 3 am today if this totally sucks.

Warnings: plot? never heard of it. Pure SMUT. Sex in public, Valentin giving quite some Dom vibes, fingering, oral, p in v

Word Count: 3,1 K

Summary: your tire is mysteriously gotten flat and you have no other choice as to accept the offer of a ride home from Valentin - the insanely sexy health mentor you've been eyeing from the moment you started working at The White Lotus luxury resort

“Need a ride?” a familiar, soft voice rich with that insanely sexy accent reaches you over the hum of the idling bike as it comes to a stop beside you. 

For a moment your confused gaze remains glued on the completely flat tire of your moped, as if trying to will it to reinflate by your sheer disbelief only, before you slowly lift your eyes to meet that cheeky smile you’ve been fond of since the first moment you set your foot on the grounds of the luxury resort that was supposed to be you new home for a while. 

It might not have been the most rational decision of your life to drop out of the university for a spiritual self-discovery trip through the East but it was definitely not the worst. OK, you ran out of money after something like one month, but that didn’t mean you were ready to give up on your plans. 

Thailand being your next destination after having left behind the breathtaking temples of Cambodia and incredibly beautiful landscapes of Vietnam, you decided to combine business with pleasure as you stormed the manager’s office of The White Lotus – the biggest and probably most expensive resort in the area – the advertisement from the local newspaper, announcing that the hotel was looking for an English speaking service staff, clutched in your hand. 

You weren’t naive, nor were you particularly experienced or life hardened. Something in between. You were impulsive, stubborn and still liked to believe in stories where the good guys saved the world and won the princess, even if deep down you knew it not to be true.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur with slight puzzlement in your voice as your gaze shifts back to your moped. “Everything was perfectly fine when I parked it here this morning.”

“Let me see,” the smooth, velvety voice makes your stomach flutter as the engine goes silent and a pair of leather gloves land carelessly on the tank as their owner swings off the bike and moves toward you.

“You’re new here, I haven’t seen you before,” there is something in the way he looks at you that makes you feel both – a cold shiver creeping up your spine and heat hitting your cheeks.

New is quite a relative term. Yes, you’ve been here for just three weeks, yet you are perfectly aware who is the handsome owner of the only Harley Davidson for the miles around even if he has apparently remained oblivious to your very existence.

But you also have to admit that it is hard not to notice Valentin – the resort’s infuriatingly handsome health mentor and fitness guru, especially when he remains number one topic of nearly every piece of gossip going around. 

Last week he was spotted sneaking out in the middle of the night from the private villa of that arrogant rich bitch from South Dakota, the one who had been terrorising the whole hotel for weeks already – the pool wasn’t warm enough, the massage table was not comfortable, the food was terrible and God forbid she was served the wrong champagne with the oysters. It seemed almost like a miracle to see her smiling the next morning at breakfast. 

Then there was that rumor that the swollen lip and the spectacularly bruised eye of one of the hotel’s personal trainers had nothing to do with the alleged jump rope accident but rather with an argument about a stolen client, apparently ending with Valentin throwing a punch. Though no one could really confirm if that part was true, some still swore of having seen him leaving the gym with blood on his knuckles.

Ah, and, of course, there was the affair, or at least, that’s what the housekeeping staff whispered about after noticing how the resort owner’s wife, easily twice as young as her husband, by the way, had taken an unusual interest in the fitness center with private stretching lessons,  late-night sauna sessions and meditation practices once of a sudden becoming a regular part of her so called wellness routine. 

Yet, despite all the fuss, you have to admit you’ve never actually seen him be anything but polite and smiling. And you have seen him. Just like everyone else, you find it impossible to look away from that broad muscular chest when he strides through the resort only clad in his yogi pants, heading to greet the new arrivals, or from those flexing biceps when you happen to pass by the training ground with him having a course - not that you’d ever admit to staring or having actually no business around there during that time of the day.

A broad chest clad in a snug dark green t-shirt that does more to accentuate than cover the perfectly chiseled muscles beneath, moves past you and your gaze involuntary drops down and lands on his hand, the conversation from the previous day rushing back absolutely uninvited. 

“Have you noticed how big his hands are?” The question had made you freeze mid-motion, the pillowcase in your hands nearly slipping to the floor. 

“Huh?” You had blinked and raised your brow questioningly, turning to Pam, your coworker, a nice girl you became friends almost immediately. 

“You know what they say…,” she had leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and giving you a knowing wink.

You had frowned, not really getting it this time, until Pam rolled her eyes, her cheeks already turning pink, as she cleared her throat. “The ones with big hands have big… you know… big khm…,” she had nodded meaningfully toward the lower part of her body.

It still had taken you a second before it finally clicked.

“Ahhh, you mean his dick,” you had said, watching as Pam practically choked on air, her face turning red as a beet, while you burst into laughter.

Yes, it is big. His hand.

“I’m Valentin,” he introduces himself, extending his hand like he expects you not to already know his name.

You hesitate for a second before shaking it, his grip is firm but warm, his somewhat rough fingers sending an unexpected jolt up your arm.

“I know,” you say, then immediately cringe at how blunt it sounds.

His smirk deepens, amusement flickering in those sharp eyes. “You know?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Everyone talks about you.”

“Good things, I hope?”

You let out a short laugh. “Depends on who you ask.”

He tilts his head, as if considering your words, then glances at your moped. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but this tire isn’t going to fix itself.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I figured. I just don’t understand – how does a perfectly fine tire suddenly go flat?”

Valentin crouches down, inspecting it. “Sometimes, it just happens. Heat, pressure, bad luck. Or…” He pauses, running a finger along the rubber.

You frown. “Or?”

He straightens, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Or someone let the air out.”

A chill prickles at your skin despite the humid air. “You think someone did this on purpose?”

“I think someone doesn’t want you going anywhere tonight,” his gaze shifts back to you, and his tongue flickers between his teeth as he licks his bottom lip. 

Shit, why does it look so fucking hot. That tongue can definitely do more. Wait, no, stop, you innerly slap yourself but it’s too late, the next thought is already there as you wonder – is it true, that thing about big hands and big… you know…

He heads back to his bike, and leans against it, arms crossed, watching you closely. “So… need a ride?”

Your heart stutters at the way he looks at you – his lips are smiling, but there is something in his eyes, something you can’t quite put your fingers on, something that makes you feel like a mouse before a big grinning cat.

You should say no, you should figure this out on your own, but the way he’s looking at you – the way he’s offering, like it’s not just a ride but something more – makes it very, very hard to refuse. 

Fuck it, we ball, you smile back at him and nod. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“Take it easy, little doll, relax and enjoy the ride,” the hot whisper against your ear does exactly the opposite, you feel your heart racing even faster, each thumping beat pulsing between your legs, as you struggle to calm your breathing that threatens to spill into moans at any second if those thick fingers don’t stop their slow, torturous movement. 

“I… I can’t… Valentin, please…,” you breathe, your fingers gripping the edge of the table for support but your thighs part just a little wider beneath it.

The bar is dim, only the dance floor flashing in neon bursts, drawing all attention away from the shadowed corners and the shallow booths positioned along the walls with tables and red leather, plush and comfortable sofas - all tucked away in just barely enough secrecy to keep you somewhat hidden. A small mercy you feel thankful for, the sound of the pounding bass of the music  being another one, as it drowns out that moan you can’t bite back anymore as Valentin’s fingers push your panties aside, part from your pulsing clit and glide through your wet folds, to slid inside you with devastating ease. 

“You’re soaking, baby doll, just sitting here, waiting for daddy Valentin to take care of you, aren’t you?” That velvety voice edged with steel is killing you, not that those fingers inside you, curling, stretching, teasing, his thumb brushing firm, controlled circles against your clit, is making it any easier to gather any coherent thought. 

“Mmmmm… mmhhh,” is the only thing that rolls over your lips, your body reacts instinctively, muscles clenching around him, spine arching slightly against the seat as you melt into the sensation and sink back against the cushioned backrest, legs falling open just a little bit more, surrendering. 

Valentine’s other arm sneaks around your shoulders, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” he rasps. “Want me to ruin you, don’t you? Want me to fuck that tight, greedy pussy of yours, until you can’t walk anymore?”

“Ahh-ahhh,” your moan is barely muffled as his fingers curl against the wall of your core and press into that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your toes curl. Oh, fuck, he’s good. 

The bar is full, the booth next to you crowded with a group of friends, laughing and clinking their glasses, but you don’t care. You can’t. Your head is spinning, thoughts dissolving, and every last bit of your self-control is fading away, all your senses dulled and consumed by the feeling of his fingers inside you, by that hypnotic voice dripping filth into your ear. 

How did you even end up here? The ride, the bike, your arms wrapped tight around his steel cut abdomen, holding for dear life – the memory is somewhat hazy, swept away in the whirlwind that is Valentin.  You can still feel the wind lashing against your skin, your breath stolen as you tucked yourself against his broad back.

“Wanna go out for a drink? You have a free day tomorrow, don’t you?” The question had sounded so casual but there was something in Valentin’s voice, some slight metallic tone, that  should have been a warning, a sign to you. 

“Yeah, sure! Why not?” words had left your lips too easily, although you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were a prey stepping into a trap, absolutely willingly – if you wanted to be honest with yourself. 

Because of all the whispers that followed Valentin, one was clearly absent – he never went out with anyone from the staff, never even really flirted. Never. Not that they didn’t want him to. The majority of the serving staff being girls, you knew for sure that most of them would kill to go out with the dangerously handsome health mentor, but he never asked. Not until now, not until you.

And you were certainly not letting this chance slip away through your fingers, to see more of him in real life, outside the resort's controlled microclimate. Was it a Russian roulette you were playing? Absolutely, and you were all in for it. 

“Fuck… yes,... oh shit, it feels so good…,” your whines are swallowed by the pounding music, your body trembling as you feel his fingers move faster, expertly working you toward the edge and then you’re coming undone in a bar full of people, music thumping in your ears in sync with your rapid heartbeat. 

Your eyes are heavy and half lidded, head fallen back against the plush backrest, your panties are ruined, completely drenched, and your hips keep rocking instinctively chasing the pleasure he’s drawing out of you. Was this how you thought the evening would end? Fuck, yes! And something tells you it’s far from over. 

“Breathe, kitten,” Valentin’s voice is a dark purr in your ear and it slowly brings you back to reality, as he withdraws his fingers from you. You whine quietly, your thighs twitching at the loss, and your eyes flutter open, finding his gaze already on you. 

Valentin is watching you, a spark of satisfaction dancing in his gaze, his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a teasing ghost of a touch, then he leans in.

“I want you to put that pretty mouth of yours to work, sweetheart. Will you do that for me?”

You sit up, straightening your spine as you reach for the champagne glass on the table, fingers slightly shaking. 

“Here?” you ask, turning to him. “You want me to give you head here, where everyone can see?”

“If you are up to it, baby doll,” Valentine’s smirk deepens, amusement dancing on his lips, and it just makes your heart skip a beat. 

“But I think you are very much enjoying this, aren’t you?” He leans closer, taking the glass from your fingers, lifting it to his lips and taking a slow, deliberate sip. 

Then, without breaking eye contact, he pulls you back against his chest, while his hand captures yours, guiding it downward and pressing your palm against the hardness straining beneath his pants.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” 

Fuck, even through the thick fabric, he feels huge, and you can’t help but smirk as the thought slips in that it must be all true, that thing about the hands and the dicks.

Your eyes wander around the room, taking in how the dance floor pulses with bodies under shifting neon lights, the waitresses weaving between tables, laughter and music filling the air, you swallow harshly as the thought alone of sucking him off here practically in public in the tenuous cover of some shifting shadows sends a fresh surge of heat pooling in your core.

Your fingers already move on their own as the heavy buckle unfastens with a soft clink and the zipper parts beneath your touch. You slide a hand inside, wrapping around the length of him, drawing him out.

Valentin inhales drawing air through his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest, as your fingers tease over his leaking tip, his fingers weave through the strands of your hair with just enough force to make your scalp tingle, as his grip tightens and he urges you down, his silent command unmistakable.

You glance up at him, meeting his darkened gaze, the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, watching you, waiting.

Your fingers trail along his length, teasing, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Fuck, he’s big, thick, hot, pulsing against your skin.

Slowly, you lean in, your lips parting as you let your tongue flick over the swollen tip, tasting the beads of precum gathering there and Valentin exhales sharply, a curse slipping from his lips.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dissipating in the thumping bass of the music.

You take him deeper, wrapping your lips around him, savoring the way his breath hitches as he disappears into the wet heat of your mouth. 

“May I get you something else,” you hear the voice of the waitress through the haze and you freeze, unsure what to do, adrenaline surges through your veins, making your heart hammer in your chest. Panic and arousal clash violently inside you, but Valentin’s hand in your hair firmly keeps you exactly where he wants you and you don’t know what you feel more shame or the intoxicating thrill of surrender. The way he controls you, the way he holds you in place without a second of hesitation, sends a sensation through you that you've never felt before and it's rush is so deep it steals your breath.

“Thank you darling, we are well served,” his voice is smooth, utterly composed as if he weren't sitting here with his cock buried in your mouth. You can't see the waitress, your face covered by your disheveled hair, the footsteps fade away, and before you can even process what just happened Valentin guides you back down his cock, resuming the steady rhythm of your movements, and you can't but moan around him. Your tongue glides along the thick vein running down his length and you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling him twitch against your tongue, his groan is low and guttural, barely restrained and that sound alone makes your core tighten with need.

"Just like that, kitten," he rasps, his hips jerking slightly, pushing himself further into your mouth, your own pulse pounds in your ears, matching the rhythm of the music, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming and electric. Your fingers tighten around the base of his cock as you set a steady pace, sliding up and down, working him with eager precision, and you feel his thighs tense beneath your touch, the muscles flexing under your fingers. 

You take him deeper, moaning around him, letting the vibration send a shudder through his entire body.

"Fucking hell…," Valentin’s hand tightens in your hair, his head falls back against the booth, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling unevenly, you can feel how close he is to letting go and coming undone right here and now, and that thought alone makes you throb between your legs, but before you can push him over that edge, he tugs you back by the hair, pulling you off him with a slick pop. Your lips are wet, swollen, and you look up at him, dazed, your breath coming in short gasps, Valentin smirks down at you, his chest heaving, his cock still thick and flushed in your hand.

"Naughty little thing," he murmurs, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, his voice rough with barely-contained lust. "That was good. But I’m not done with you yet."

He drags you up, his mouth hovering just above yours, as he whispers. "Now, let’s see how well you take me when it’s your turn. Do you want daddy to fuck you? I know you do,” and before you can even respond, he’s already moving, pulling you into his lap, his strong hands gripping your hips as his fingers push your panties aside once more, the head of his cock is already at your entrance. 

“You know how to play this game, don’t you?” he asks, his mismatched eyes boring into you. You nod, swallowing hard.

“Your colour, baby doll?” 

You know exactly what he’s asking, your mind is hazy, body burning, every nerve tuned to him but there’s no fear, no hesitation, only raw, unfiltered desire.

“Green,” you breathe, and he pulls you down in one swift motion, burying himself inside you to the hilt.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat, your body shuddering as his thick shaft fills you completely in one go, while one of his hands wraps around your throat and the other digs into the soft flesh of your ass beneath your dress, and with that nothing else exists anymore.

The bar, the people, the distant pulse of the music, it all fades away, the only thing that matters is Valentin and his cock twitching inside you, stretching you just right, the firm grip on your throat owning you completely.

You don’t care about anything, there is no room for shame or doubt in your mind, it’s too overtaken by the indescribable pleasure of that simple feeling of giving up the control, of surrendering to that commanding voice and those mismatched stern eyes.

And then he fucks you, his hips thrust up into you, filling you deeper, harder, while his hand guide you, making you bounce on his cock, while his grip on your throat tightens—not too much, never too far—just enough to make your head spin in the best way, and soon, you're a mess, a drooling, moaning, wrecked mess.

—-----------------------------------------------------

When you open your eyes, the sunlight streaming through the curtains tells you it’s already well past midday.

Your head is heavy, your body sore in all the possible ways, and you have no idea how you got home, but here you are, back in your bed tucked beneath your light blanket.

You shift beneath the sheets, and that’s when you feel it, an arm draped around your waist and a firm chest pressed against your back.

Your breath catches, the memories of last night crash over you all at once, flooding your senses as you jolt upright, a soft, mortified moan slipping past your lips.

"Good morning, sweet baby doll," the voice is rich, smooth – so damn pleased with itself, you turn slowly, and there he is. Valentin, bare-chested, relaxed, watches you with that signature smirk that sends heat pooling low in your belly.

"Can I get you something for breakfast?" He stretches lazily, completely unbothered by your flustered state. "You must be starving."

[tvsglow]

absolutely itching for a white lotus verse ,, mumu .. something ,,

[slaytheusurper]

Quinn Mossbacher fic out tommorrow, stay tuned....

[swordgrace]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!healer!reader.

SYNOPSIS: serving as a healer on the frontlines of a war that is tearing the realm apart, you come to tend the wounds of the warden of the north. inspired by robb & talisa’s relationship.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 8.2K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), fic is inspired by robb & talisa’s relationship, description of wounds/injuries, mentions of violence & war, canon-typical misogyny (cregan goes to the northern school of feminism), heavy mutual pining, both cregan and reader have experience, p in v sex, unprotected sex, all stark men have a breeding kink, size kink (cregan is much taller/bigger than reader), fingering (fem!rec), biting, breast play, hair-pulling, rain-soaked cregan, bed/cot breaking, lotus position, riding/cowgirl, gentle-ish sex, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Back with another Cregan fic! I absolutely love writing for him & this request was so perfect. This is taking place during the wars (HOTD S3). Thank you guys so much for your continued support and kindness, it means a ton to me! I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 — 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

Yet, as he lay in his tent, feeling the bitter sting of what pain could bring, face-to-face with carnage, he felt some semblance of fear. It was the only time that a man could ever be brave, in the face of such strife. The Riverlands were occupied by Ser Criston Cole for some time, and in the name of the true Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Cregan Stark aimed to reclaim it.

The road to the Riverlands had been a lengthy one, hard on his force of Winter Wolves, greybeards that itched for combat. They were met with resistance at every turn after crossing the Twins, yet they endured, still a force of nearly two-thousand men.

More were on their way from the North, bannermen of all ilk and family called to-arms at Winterfell, to ride North and join his forces in the Riverlands. Despite his youthful age of one-and-twenty, Cregan was a fierce and proficient fighter, better than a great deal of the men under his command.

Struck by a stray arrow and slashed with a blade, he bared his injuries incredibly well — better than most. Cregan’s stalwart, hardened exterior served him well, never giving way to the pain he felt beneath. The arrow had gone clean through, thankfully. Much of his recovery was simply bandages and time.

He chafed at the notion of being bound to his tent for days on-end — he wanted to be with his men, helming any attacks, leading them to victory. He was useless here, abdomen wrapped in soiled bandages, laid-up and no good to anyone.

The healers who passed through all possessed older, wrinkled faces — men who had seen countless wars, perhaps thrice his age, acclaimed in talent and skill with the art of mending wounds and sewing bone together.

Imagine Cregan’s bewilderment when a young woman entered his tent one dismal morning.

You couldn’t have been much younger than him, clad in a tattered, coarse dress with a hem steeped in mud, white apron sullied with countless stains. Much of the cruor on your garments wasn’t your own, the blood of Stark men, men from White Harbor.

“Good morrow, Lord Stark.” The songbird’s lull of your voice had made him unusually calm, as if able to quell the growing tide of irritation he’d felt with his inaction. You brought with you a basket of supplies, tools of the trade that you had to scrounge around to get.

Men never looked upon a woman-healer with interest or a desire to teach — much of what you knew was from your own mother, or things you’d observed and taught yourself from piles of books at your disposal. Though, you found yourself excelling within your area of expertise.

Perplexed, Cregan watched you hawkishly, sluggishly sitting up from his bed of furs, a low grunt escaping him in the process. “My Lady,” He greeted with a nod of his head, muscles aching and sore from the clashes and skirmishes, coupled with time spent on the road. “You are a new face.”

Part of you wondered if he would take offense, given that you were a lady, but you decided not to address it. “I certainly hope that it isn’t a disappointment,” You mused, placing your supplies down at his bedside. “Other hands were needed elsewhere.”

He wasn’t disappointed in the slightest.

Cregan found you to be breathtakingly beautiful — it took one stolen glance for him to discern that. Your very presence seemed to flourish with warmth and amiability. It was a welcome change from the old men who poked and prodded at him, and he wouldn’t complain about being in the presence of someone his own age.

With a huff, he shook his head, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his visage. “Not at all,” He murmured, studying you with a thinly-veiled intrigue. “A welcome change.” Cregan replied, catching your amiable smile, as warm and as bright as the first inkling of springtime.

You had seen Cregan only in-passing, brief moments where you spotted the young Lord atop his dark steed, or stomping through muddied encampments alongside his soldiers. Now, up-close, you realized how young he really looked, with a youthful, babyish visage that did not match his stony expression or wisened, gray eyes.

“You say that now, but you’ll have to get used to me first, my Lord.” You mused, reaching for the first wrap of his soiled bandages. It was easier to make small-talk in the midst of situations like these — it often eased your nerves, gave you something else to think about.

Cregan moved his arms just enough, allowing you to unravel the crimson-crusted bandages. There was some momentary relief, without the scratching and irritation of coarse linen, wounds exposed to the lick of fresh air.

A steady exhale escaped him, and he watched as you discarded the bandages, fetching more from your basket, coupled with some strange poultice in a jar. He did not recall his former caretakers ever giving him something like that, and he refused Milk of the Poppy.

“How long have you had an interest in this?” Cregan inquired, genuinely interested in what led you down such a path. It wasn’t commonplace for a woman of your station, not in the slightest. He would never discourage it, but he was itching to know.

As you wrung out a cloth of hot water, you brought it to his left shoulder, thick and burly with muscle, gingerly swiping over the wound to clean it. “Many years,” You hummed, brows furrowing together in concentration. “My father didn’t like it, but I learned what I could from others.”

Cregan was the stoic sort, an indomitable mountain of a man who appeared so rugged and indifferent, yet he possessed a gentle hand and heart when away from wandering eyes. He listened attentively, soothed by the tenderness in your touch.

Becoming a Maester was something you’d desired in your youth, yet the Citadel never allowed for women to study and attain the position. You were left to your own devices, a life of healing and service to those who needed it most, and you were content with that. You would forge your own Maester’s Chain.

You then pressed the cloth against the still-swollen gash from the sword across his abdomen, the flesh around it somewhat angry and reddened. “You took quite a beating. I have no desire to see who was on the other end of your blade.”

A soft huff escaped him as he rolled his shoulders, dwarfing you completely in size and stature. Even for a man of his youth, he seemed imposing, larger than plenty of young men his age. “Best not to dwell on it,” He grunted, stormy hues following you wherever you went. “You are not a Northerner.”

The lack of a Northern accent gave it away, but you also spoke properly and eloquently, as if you had been raised somewhere with plenty of civility. “The Stormlands — I am from Bronzegate.” You replied, which happened to earn you a very threadbare smile from Lord Stark.

“A Southerner, then,” A twinge of amusement seemed interwoven with his gruff, husky timbre, a voice that you were rather charmed by. He was mesmerizing to listen to, Northern dialect and deeper voice marked by a stalwart calm. “What are you doing here?”

As you cleaned away the sluggish ooze of cruor, you ensured that his wounds were free of dirt or dried blood, inspecting them for infection. “Finding my way in the world,” You confessed, reaching for the jar of herbal poultice, a salve that you had made yourself. “As we all are.”

Cregan could respect your honesty and earnestness in knowing that you didn’t know what you were doing with your life — sometimes, he didn’t know, either. It was easy to forget oneself when tasked with the charge of leadership, easy to allow it to become a burden instead of a challenge.

Dipping your fingertips into the salve, you gently spread it across the wound on his shoulder, the strange concoction icy against his hot flesh. “What is that?” He questioned, the unusual smell of it stinging his nostrils. Whatever it was, it felt incredible.

“A salve that I made,” You chimed, clicking your tongue as you concentrated on spreading it thin, layering it across his skin. “It’s not something conventional. I exchanged certain herbs for others, and added something of my own. It takes the sting away, numbs the flesh around the wound.”

It did take the sting away, as you said, and soothed his wound at the same time. Cregan admired your ingenuity, charmed and ensnared by you. He hadn’t expected to enjoy your company as much as he was, which was always enough to draw some concern.

A union formed out of wedlock was a dangerous one, but these were perilous times, in the midst of war. He was bound to no one — he had no one. Gray hues silently appraised you, and whenever you got close enough, he could feel your sweet breath upon his flesh, smell the faint aroma of wildflowers and a dab of honey.

“If you are willing, I’d like to have your ingredients. It would be worthwhile for the rest of the healers to craft it, too. Do not waste it all on me.” Cregan rumbled, a soft sigh of relief escaping him as you spread the poultice all along the gash across his abdomen.

The instantaneous relief he felt made him relax, the tension unfurling within his shoulders. Once the salve began to dry just slightly, you took to bandaging him again, nearly chest-to-chest with him when you wrapped the linen around his torso.

Cregan’s jaw tensed, muscles tightening whenever you pressed closer, even if the action was a necessity. You felt the onslaught of warmth creep into your features, goosebumps cascading down your spine with the intensity of his gaze.

You happened to meet his smoldering stare for just a moment, butterflies swelling within the pit of your stomach, followed by a rush of heat that seeped into your very bones. “I will provide you with the list tomorrow.” You murmured, finishing wrapping up his wound.

The arrow puncture on his shoulder was something that you covered in a few layers of sturdier medicinal cloth, before wrapping it once to keep it stable. You had backed away slightly, the close proximity having made your nerves spark to life.

It was a warmth and intimacy that you hadn’t touched before, unfamiliar yet wild with curiosity. Perhaps you had a tryst with a young man back in Bronzegate, but never to this degree of intensity. Cregan gazed at you as if you were the only one to exist.

“I am finished here,” That was enough to shatter Cregan’s incendiary look, the heat dissipating from his gray hues. His visage resumed that stone-faced look, and he suddenly remembered himself and the bonds of propriety. “I will visit tomorrow with your list, if that’s all you need from me.”

He noticed how you straightened, posture somewhat rigid, fingertips stained in dried blood and cruor. You retrieved what supplies you had, placing them all back into your basket before you curtsied, as a Lady would before a Lord.

“You do not have to bow, my Lady,” Cregan assured, standing to his feet with a strenuous grunt. He was massive even when sitting before you, but seeing him upright and so close — Gods take you for the things you began to ponder and imagine. “I am grateful for your aid in these dour times.”

Cregan was as stubborn as an old mule, despite being so young. Rarely did he accept help from other people, preferring to do it all himself and be the guiding example, but this was something he was not practiced at.

“It is my duty, my Lord. It is a responsibility that I share for yourself, and for your soldiers. I pray that the Gods will usher you into a swift recovery, and victory.” That smile — Gods, you had a beautiful smile. It could melt even the hardiest of ice, bring exuberance and joy to those who had none. “I should take my leave.”

“Of course,” Cregan bowed his head, timbre gentle and akin to the roll of thunder before an encroaching thunderstorm. He retrieved his tunic from the foot of his bed, and before you could disappear from the tent, he cleared his throat. “What is your name, my Lady?”

You smiled, gaze dancing with a twinge of mischief and amusement as you chewed at the inside of your cheek. Lingering within the entryway of his tent, you took one, deliberate step backwards.

“I suppose you’ll have to learn that tomorrow.”

Sitting idly by while a war raged nearby had soured Cregan’s mood exponentially.

He had stared at the canvas canopy of his tent for so long that he began to lose count of the hours. It was only when his second-in-command harkened him to the war table, that he obeyed.

Green forces had stationed a battalion at The Trident, and the rest were attempting to seize Harrenhal from Daemon Targaryen and his Rivermen. Cregan intended on cutting off the battalion, ripping them out root and stem, effectively carving away a portion of Cole’s forces.

War was an ugly thing — killing a man never pleased him as it did some, but it was an unfortunate necessity. Ensuring that Rhaenyra Targaryen took her place upon the Iron Throne was paramount, an oath he forged with her son, Jacaerys Velaryon.

Cregan covered his wounds with his tunic and a fur cloak, knowing that the weight of armor would only hinder his recovery, and he needed to be prepared for what was to come. He spoke strategy with Lord Roderick Dustin of Barrowton, before taking his leave.

You happened to occupy his thoughts — a girl from Bronzegate, with a rosy, heartening smile and a demure nature, tending to his wounded men. Not a moment passed from last eve to now, an afternoon marked by grim, gray storm clouds, that he hadn’t thought of you.

It was improper, perhaps, to think so fondly of a young maiden out of wedlock, one he barely knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to you — and he had a feeling that you felt the same, a mutual sentiment.

The massive tent erected for those wounded in battle was marked by an ivory canvas and the hurried pace of healers floating in and out. Cregan knew where to find you, and he had learned of your name from several of his bannermen.

He spotted you outside, washing your hands free of crimson, the ends of your sleeves just as tattered and wrought with blood that didn’t belong to you. Your tresses were pulled into a braid to avoid interference with your work, brow creased in concentration.

“My Lady.” He greeted you with that familiar timbre, husky and gallant. There was a warmth that radiated from him, both in his tone and physically, that enveloped you whenever you were in his presence. He was a man of few words, but you made up for it.

Surprise settled into your features as you regarded him with mild bewilderment. You weren’t expecting him to seek you out. “My Lord,” You exhaled, bowing your head in reverence as you wiped the blood from your hands with a rag. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Cregan enjoyed your concern, staving off a threadbare smile before he shrugged, wisps of chestnut tresses fluttering with the breeze. The air smelled of rain, an approaching deluge. “You never said that I had to stay.” He stated, looking towards your hands.

A huff of laughter escaped you, hands mostly free of any blood, your knuckles bruised and bearing some scrapes. “Are you feeling well enough?” You asked, head canting to one side. There was a quell in the battle for now, allowing you time to recuperate.

“I have been for some time,” Cregan sighed, brows furrowing together. “Old men wished for me to stay abed, and I heeded them, until now.” Two wounds wouldn’t stop him — there was something powerful about him, a determination to continue even in the face of agony or strife.

You couldn’t help but smile in spite of his stubbornness — you wondered how his men dealt with him. Many soldiers and bannermen that you had conversed with praised Cregan, with nothing but honorable things to say about him. He was regarded as stoical and resigned, patient and pragmatic.

“Let me have a look. It’s the least that I can do, considering you made the trek here.” You motioned for him to follow you, sweeping the canvas aside as you beckoned him into the wounded tent. There were scores of men in worse states than he — some of them brushing close to death.

Cregan stepped behind you like a massive wall of stone, a mountain of a man, his shadow casting itself over you. Some of the healers seemed surprised with his coming here, a handful being familiar faces that had tended to him when he was first wounded.

The space in which you operated was a great deal smaller, yet tidy and orderly. He sat down with a grunt atop the cot you gestured to, shrugging off his fur cloak. Part of him felt strange for being here, considering the grievous state of some of the men.

A roll of parchment lay atop your footlocker, a lengthy list of ingredients used in your medicinal salve, the one that Cregan had requested yesterday. He watched you scurry about, fetching fresh bandages and your mysterious poultice that seemed to do him a world of good.

Some of the healers looked upon you with thinly-veiled disdain and scrutiny, eyes of wizened men who believed themselves to be better than you. A woman doing such gruesome work wasn’t exactly proper.

“Your tunic,” You murmured, averting your gaze away from Cregan’s body as he removed the smoky-blue garment, revealing his herculean musculature. The more you studied Lord Stark, the more enamored you became — he was handsome and well-spoken. Stubborn, perhaps, but most Northerners were. “Thank you.”

Cregan thoroughly enjoyed watching you work — it was a captivating thing to behold, the way you navigated a wound with such care and precision. Your hands were disarmingly gentle as you shifted the linen wrappings away, exposing his shoulder to the brisk afternoon air.

The pain had certainly diminished, moreso in his shoulder than his abdomen. In usual silence, Cregan studied you closely, storm-colored hues appraising you, committing every detail to memory. There was something breathtaking about you, a magnetizing pull that drew him in, kept him enthralled.

He reveled in the sensation of your fingertips tracing around his wound, feather-light and delicate, leaving behind a trail of fire in your wake. “It’s healed wonderfully,” You murmured, brows furrowing together as you applied a dab of honey, a natural antiseptic. You placed the bandage back over it. “How does it feel?”

“Acceptable.” He grunted, though his tone seemed somewhat warped with amusement. Your lips twitched into a brief frown, as if he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “I am well enough. You needn’t worry, my Lady.” Cregan assured, resting his thick forearms atop his thighs.

A soft sigh left you as you circled around him, coming to stand before him with a tender expression. Your countenance still seemed furrowed with concern, but he neglected to comment on it.

Peeling away the linen bandages that clung to his abdomen, the angry-red swelling had nearly dissipated, and the gash remained, still healing. “The salve seems to have helped,” You fought hard to ignore the closeness between yourself and Cregan, mere breaths apart. “The swelling has gone down.”

The scent of your warm breath fanned across his visage, basking him in your saccharine smell. Even if your garments were well-worn and speckled in gore, he could still detect the aroma of wildflowers on you.

“You have my gratitude, my Lady.” Cregan uttered, a valiant attempt to relieve some of the lingering tension. It was something he rarely, if ever, experienced with a woman — especially one such as yourself.

“You know my name already, Lord Stark. You do not have to continue to refer to me as a Lady,” A twinkle of amusement lingered within your eyes, knowing that his bannermen had shared your name with him. “I am not of noble birth, I’m afraid.”

Cregan huffed, and he realized that you were clever. The wit and fiery spirit leapt out from you on occasion, and this happened to be one of them. “Honor and good pleasantries demand that I continue to refer to you as a Lady.” He replied, tender and deep, like the shaking of a mountain.

With an amiable smile, you changed the bandages around Cregan’s torso, applying your salve before discarding the old ones. “Don’t,” You chimed, tone softening to the lull of a songbird. “Call me by my name.” You stood, wiping your hands against a swath of clean cloth.

A low, rumbling ‘hm’ escaped the man, whose chestnut brows furrowed together as he ogled you — shamelessly, this time. There was a fond playfulness laced within your banter, something that Cregan wasn’t entirely accustomed to. “Cregan.” He insisted, establishing a firm foundation for your blossoming relationship.

“Cregan.” You repeated, his name sounding sickeningly sweet from your Southern tongue. The young Lord moved to tug his tunic back on over his hulking frame, musculature working in such wondrous ways. It was difficult to tame your wandering eye, heat crawling along your spine.

Ripping yourself from your trance, you busied yourself with something else. “The salve ingredients that you requested, I made a list.” You stepped towards the footlocker, retrieving the scroll of parchment as you offered it to him. “I hope that it will do some good.”

After having placed his thick cloak over his shoulders, Cregan grunted, the vibration spreading throughout his chest as he accepted the list. “This is noble of you,” He murmured, turning it over within his roughened hand. “The men here owe you their gratitude — as do I.”

Dismissive of his praise, you remained humble, politely curtsying before Lord Stark. “It is my duty, that is all. I will continue on for as long as I am able.” You didn’t like being thanked for healing — it was a passion that you chased after, a job that brought you joy.

“If there is anything that I can do for you as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, name it — it will be done.” Cregan nodded, countenance bristling with a burning affection, one that wasn’t concealed in the slightest. Despite his stalwart demeanor, he made his fondness of you known.

A delicate hum escaped you, but nothing of importance came to mind. You didn’t want to make any demands of him, especially given the circumstances — he had little time to cater to a healer when war loomed overhead.

“If you insist, I would ask for a suitable stationary set,” Simplistic and curious, something uncommonly asked for. Writing was something you had no part in, but illustrations — that was a different story. “Do not toil over it, my Lo — Cregan. Your generosity is kind enough.”

Cregan nodded, taking it into consideration. “I will not toil over it,” He replied, peering over his shoulder toward a pack of healers. There were plenty of wounded men that required your attention more than he. “Consider it done. I will leave you to your work.”

You bowed again out of common courtesy, hands folded together as you offered Cregan another warm smile. “Of course. Should your recovery change course, please do not hesitate to return. I wish you good fortune in the battles to come.”

“Until next we meet.”

Bellflower flourished in moss-laden groves around the forks of the Trident, petals ranging from ivory to shades of cerulean and a light lilac. It grew in clutches, its blooms spherical and pleasing to the eye. Despite the deluge plaguing the Winter Wolves at every step, it seemed to slow Cole’s army down exponentially, too.

As dusk fell in a dark, cloudy gloom across the encampment, Cregan carried a bound bundle of bellflower in his hands, to be given to one person in particular.

It had only been two days since your last meeting in the healer’s tent, his wounds on the mend, no longer weighed down with bandages. The stationary you requested had been brought to your tent sometime the next day, after you had addressed it with Cregan.

It was intended to be a gesture of gratitude, something that he knew you would find favor in, but it was easily passable as a rite of courtship. The constant prodding of a marriage proposal was always at the fringes of Cregan’s mind — it was his duty to marry, and he had prolonged the process as much as he could.

With war tearing the realm apart, there was little time to consider a marriage — but a relationship, perhaps a budding bond, that was something he could make time for. Even in his duties as the Warden of the North, a champion for Queen Rhaenyra, there would be a lull, a calm in the storm.

Your tent wasn’t a far trek from the healer’s tent, smaller and humble compared to his own. It didn’t seem fair, given your importance and what you had contributed to their cause, but he didn’t dwell on it — not now, anyway.

To see the ferocious, stoic Cregan Stark carrying a bundle of flowers that seemed minuscule within his grasp was a most peculiar sight. His fur trappings and leather-and-chainmail bore the motif of the Direwolf, the sigil of House Stark, making him seem larger than he already was. His ancestral longsword, Ice, remained slung across his broad shoulders.

The glitter of candlelight cut through the dismal haze of rainfall around him, its orange glow pooling from your tent, closed-off for privacy. Through the sliver of canvas, Cregan could see you, hunched over your chair, moving a quill across parchment. You wore your hair down this time, visage framed by wisps of your tresses, brow creased in concentration.

Cregan stepped forward, announcing his presence with a noisy clearing of his throat. “My Lady,” He rumbled, standing just outside of your tent, chestnut tresses sticking to his skull from the deluge. “If I might have a moment of your time.”

Your surprise was palpable as you flung open your tent, with Cregan Stark standing before you, soaked to the bone and entirely unphased. Your gaze fell to the bouquet of bellflowers in his hand, features becoming hot almost immediately.

“Cregan,” You stepped aside to usher him in, getting him out of the storm. “I apologize if you attempted to summon me, I’ve been preoccupied.” Preoccupied with the wrong things, perhaps, but you felt horrible that he had walked all this way in a torrential downpour.

“An apology isn’t necessary,” Cregan assured, so tall and mountainous that he seemed to consume much of the space in your tent, scalp scraping the canvas above. “I merely wanted to extend my gratitude, for your diligence and steadfastness in my recovery.” He murmured.

Your lodgings were quite humble, your bed nothing more than a cot lined in fur blankets, pillows stuffed with linens to make it bearable. The rickety wooden chairs were ones you’d borrowed — it served as a place to draw, a series of candles sitting along your footlocker. The ground below was covered in layers of canvas and fur — perhaps more comfortable than the cot itself.

You offered him a polite smile, though the air seemed charged with more than just friendliness. “You’ve already extended your gratitude, my Lord. You needn’t do it again,” You replied, heart thrumming within your chest. “You are soaked to the bone. Why don’t you warm yourself?”

Cregan was plenty warm, his own metaphorical sun, blood running exceptionally hot — especially this evening. “There is no need,” He rumbled, jaw somewhat tense as he extended the bouquet of bellflowers to you, bound together with a thick cord. “Blooming along the Trident. I thought of you.”

Thought of you — did he do that often?

Gods, did you think of him — you thought of him at each waking moment, torturing yourself over him, the Lord of Winterfell. There were nights where you fantasized about him in such sinful ways that it left you gasping for air. It made your belly stir with butterflies, heat simmering across your flesh.

“These are beautiful,” Touched by such a simple gesture, you accepted the bouquet from him, moving to place it inside of a tall flask that once held one of your salves. Its mauve petals added a flair of color. “Thank you, Cregan.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Every man in this dreadful encampment paled in comparison to Cregan Stark, who gazed down at you with such intensity that you feared you would melt away. Your breath hitched within your throat when he stepped closer — involuntary or not, you sorely yearned for the closeness.

Droplets of water rolled from his temples, chestnut tresses sticking to his forehead, garb damp from the rain. He smelled of the woodlands — pine and petrichor, intermingled with that of a natural musk. Those gray hues of his raked over you, drinking you in with a thinly-veiled rapture.

“There are other ways to express your gratitude.”

Your mouth moved before your mind could tell you to cease — speaking to your Lord in such an uncouth manner was grounds for trouble. You hadn’t fully realized the salacious implications of your statement until it sank in, and you became nervous. Before you could apologize, Cregan stopped you.

“Why do you think I came all this way, my Lady?” He rumbled, lifting his hand to cup your face, palm nearly engulfing half of your visage. Gods, you were beautiful — nothing short of perfection in his eyes. The bulk of his arm hesitantly reached out to circle around you, drawing you closer into his embrace.

That wasn’t the only reason — Cregan’s fondness of you had manifested into something uncontrollable, and you shared the same sentiment. Your feelings were now just as raging as his own, like a wildfire spreading across a forest, unchecked and unchallenged.

“Aren’t you cold?” You whispered, brought into the warm expanse of his chest, broad and taut with muscle. Even through his armor, you knew that he was indomitable. Though, for all of his physical intimidation and mesomorphic might, he was disarmingly gentle, this mountain of a man.

“No,” The husky timbre of his voice made goosebumps dance along your spine, causing you to shiver. “Not anymore.” He murmured, gaze silently asking to kiss you. He did not move, didn’t intend on acting until you decided to let sentiments flow freely.

It was you that kissed him first, seeking his lips with a desperation that rattled even you. Cregan didn’t hide his mutual desire, brows furrowing together as he reciprocated your kiss, using the leverage of his arm to lift you closer.

His lips were rough, icy from being in the damp outdoors, visage slick from the rainfall. It was a stark contrast to the softness of your mouth, pliant and plush against him, your body curvaceous and perfect within his grasp. He felt your palms press against his chest, drifting towards the nape of his neck.

Rain-soaked tresses glided through your fingers, curling inward to grip and pull, kissing him with such dizzying passion. In the slim space of your lodgings, with rain pounding above, it provided a gentle ambiance that only provided to the charged atmosphere.

Your hands shifted toward the clasps of his thick cloak, hesitating as you pulled away, looking to him for approval. If it weren’t for the many layers he needed to remove, you would’ve shed your dress already.

“Is this what you want?” Cregan needed your consent and assurance before continuing on, thumb drawing circles into your hip as he held you close. His voice had dropped to a near-growl, husky and thick with desire. It only served to stoke the growing fire between the both of you, cracking with a mutual need.

You nodded, nearly rendered breathless. “Yes,” Barely above a whisper, you felt his hands settle over yours, unclasping the metallic direwolves that loosened his cloak. It was all damp and soggy from the rain, and it felt good to be rid of it. “I need you.” You murmured, voice pitched with lust.

Cregan didn’t hesitate, hands unfastening his armor, buckle by buckle, piece by piece. Your hands sometimes joined in on occasion, loosening a strap or helping to take it off altogether. You didn’t move away, allowing each item to join the growing pile until he was left in his smallclothes.

He gently reached for the nape of your neck, massive palm caressing into the base of your skull, tracing along your silky flesh as he brought you in for a kiss. Even without his armor, Cregan was impossibly large, with a bulk and stature that dwarfed your own.

His mouth moved in-tandem with yours, each kiss blistering with passion, an eagerness that never exceeded into something rough. There was a domineering undertone to his actions, but never anything that would hurt you or scare you off.

Northern perfection, an immaculate wall of strength and muscle, yet so gentle — it rattled you to your core in the best possible way, filling your belly with molten heat. You kissed him fervently, until he stopped to kiss along your jaw, roughened lips finding the silky column of your neck.

The coarse, cloth ties that gathered at the small of your back became unraveled by you, loosening the periwinkle-colored garment until it sagged upon your body. You let it drop, your plain dress pooling to the ground in a heap of wrinkled fabric. You nudged it aside, letting it join Cregan’s armor.

Gray hues flickered across your naked flesh, beautiful beyond compare, a woman’s body that possessed the loveliest of curves. Cregan was swift to lower his hands, smoothing them across your sides, and then to your hips, shamelessly grabbing greedy handfuls of your derrière.

“I’ve never seen a beauty like yours before.” Cregan rumbled, mouth pressing soft kisses all along your neck, and then to the hollow of your throat. His calloused palms caressed everywhere they could, savoring the sensation of your velveteen skin.

You shivered at his reverent touch, lips parting as a soft gasp escaped you. Your hands held his biceps, thick and taut beneath your fingertips as a warm slick continued to mount between your legs. He hitched one of your legs around him, keeping you steady.

As he continued to savor your throat, mouth dragging from your neck to collarbone, his available hand stroked along your belly, tracing a path toward the heat between your thighs. Cregan searched for signs of hesitation or protest, but found none, thick fingers sluggishly slipping against your core.

“Cregan,” You gasped, a sharp inhale escaping you as you desperately held onto him, clinging on like a drowning woman as he toyed with your cunt. He deftly pushed past your folds, digits tracing along your slit in rhythmic motions, exploring your body. “Gods, don’t stop.” You pleaded, face pressing near his shoulder.

Teeth scraped along your throat, gently biting at your sensitive flesh as his digits found a steady rhythm. With two fingers stroking along your cunt, his thumb moved to nudge against your clit, circling around the sensitive clutch of nerves. He was silent, save for the rumbling sounds of his grunts.

Gently coaxing you towards your cot, Cregan didn’t stop to think about how feeble it was for two people. Nevertheless, he sat beside you, wood groaning and splintering in protest to the sudden amount of weight it bore. Sitting atop the furs, he collected you into his lap, slotting you against his thigh.

Tangling your hands into the hem of his tunic, you managed to maneuver it off with his assistance, all wisps of air stolen from your lungs at the sight of him. Seeing him in this light, full of desire with candlelight dancing across his skin, he was wonderfully handsome.

One palm cupped your hips, holding you close as his fingers resumed their previous ministrations, thumb seeking your clit. He touched you with such fervent passion, mouth clamoring for yours, lips unable to tear themselves away.

Each kiss left you gasping and heaving, wanting more of him, all that he could give. Your hands sought to drape themselves over his broad shoulders, threading into his damp tresses as you rocked yourself into his hand. The friction it created was delicious, a raging heat that crawled all over your body.

Thunder split the skies outside, rain coming down in a noisy deluge that pounded against the durable canvas of your tent. Cregan shifted backwards, the cot continuing to groan and creak beneath his bulk, threatening to snap into two if your ministrations continued.

You felt along the corded muscle of his shoulders, his skin unusually soft beneath your palms. With the relentless appetite of a wolf, Cregan kissed you again, pulling away just enough to kiss your collarbone instead. Thick digits continued to nudge against your cunt, threatening to push their way inside of you.

At a slow pace, he eased two fingers inside of you, stretching you just enough for it to be quite pleasurable. A whine of delight tore from your mouth, head rolling back enough for him to have unobstructed access. Teeth nipped at your collarbone, providing a sharp sting that flourished across your body.

He was gentle yet vigorous, digits sluggishly pumping themselves in and out of your tight cunt, thumb providing a burst of stimulation against your clit. Your warm, sweet breath fanned over him, mouth agape as a series of excitable pants escaped you.

Planting hot kisses just above your breasts, Cregan’s rough palm caressed from the swell of your hip to your chest, full and perfect, kneading into your breast. The entirety of your body felt so soft — like a plane of velvet, unblemished and left in some state of perfection.

Rocking yourself into his hand, a myriad of needy whimpers left you in droves, ones that occasionally tapered off into wanton moans, others left hushed. Cregan’s chest blossomed with a stoic grunt, the vibrations of it rattling you to your core.

“Cregan,” A fleeting sigh of passion escaped you, breathless and wanting, caught within a tempest of desire and carnality. Your digits touched him wherever you could, from the bulk of his shoulders to his biceps, thick and taut, and his face. “Gods, I need you.” You moaned, coaxing him in for a kiss.

Such a sentiment was mutual — Cregan did not know what depths of want he was capable of, and the carnal need he developed for you was intense. Though, it had also manifested into something else, transcending into affection and ardor.

He did not want to be parted from you after this.

His rough lips molded themselves to yours, kissing you desperately, until he stole every wisp of air from your lungs. He occasionally scraped his teeth across your lower lip, digits still working their way in and out of you, continuing to palm at your breasts.

Between the stimulation of his mouth and digits, you were already worked up, tangled within a web of desire as the cot groaned in protest again — and then snapped.

Only one of the wooden frames suffered damage, and Cregan was quick to shield you from harm, if there was any harm to begin with. He simply sagged further into the canvas, a look of mild amusement rising to his features. “The ground, then.” He rumbled, and you began to giggle, nose crinkling from the awkwardness of it all.

“I could’ve warned you,” You mused, affection dancing within your fond gaze as you kissed his jaw. “It would not survive with your muscles sitting atop it.” Cregan found it difficult not to smile, the gesture faint yet prevalent as he stroked along your spine.

“I will have it replaced.” Cregan grumbled, but you didn’t care in the slightest, the both of you relocating to the sprawling floor of thick, layered furs. It was arguably more comfortable than your cot would’ve been anyway. Drawing you back into his lap, he touched you everywhere he could.

The glow of orange illumination covered the both of you, however faint, aided by slits of clouded moonlight that poured in from the gap in canvas. You were beautiful — everything that he had ever wanted, caged within his arms, staring at him with a heated intensity.

He was mountainous, even when sitting, large and powerful enough to move you wherever he pleased. Your kisses became feverish, as if each entanglement would be your last, heart hammering within your chest with a flurry of excitement.

For a moment, Cregan withdrew, content to gaze upon your smiling visage, gaze sparkling with affection. He lifted his hand, cupping your cheek and jaw, allowing himself a moment to commit every feature of yours to memory. His next kiss was agonizingly slow in the best way possible, causing you to sigh with passion.

He needed to be close to you, chest to chest, savoring every inch of your silken flesh. Cregan had never touched something so soft before, drinking you in again with those tempestuous hues, as alluring as gray clouds before a thunderstorm.

“I want you inside of me,” You pleaded, lips parting slightly as Cregan’s jaw tensed, lust festering within him. Gods, what a wonderful mother you would make — the thought was fleeting, but it lingered like a thick fog, taking up residence within his mind. “Please.”

Cregan did not hesitate, hands joining yours as you hastily unraveled the leather ties of his trousers. He wanted to stay this way, sitting up with you in his lap, allowing him to look upon your face, ravage your skin as he guided you atop his length.

To match his imposing stature and wall of muscle, his cock was just as intimidating, causing your stomach to turn with a twinge of worry. Then again, you had become so worked up that pain seemed impossible. Cregan’s hands steadied themselves atop the swell of your hips, bringing you up enough to let his cock glide against your slick folds.

“As you wish.” He huffed, letting you find your way, the flushed tip of his length beginning to penetrate you. You moaned at the intrusion, able to feel the girth of it stretch you perfectly, just as his fingers had. Cregan grunted, guiding you down until you could go no further.

Strong enough to ease you along his length with his hands alone, Cregan seized the opportunity to kiss you. You were only a few breaths taller like this, slotted within his lap, hands finding their purchase atop his shoulders as you began to ride him.

Gods, he was big — enough for you to realize that soreness was an inevitability. Being flush against him, nearly chest-to-chest, was perfect, something so intimate and sensual that hot shivers rolled down your spine. Cregan guided you up and down upon his cock, ensuring that he went at a sluggish pace, more for your sake than his own.

Tangled sighs and low, heavy breaths wove together, forming a heated cacophony that filled the tent with your lewd activities. The feeling of his calloused hands sinking into your plush flesh was mesmerizing, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps that crawled across your flesh.

Mouths danced together and then clashed again, kiss after kiss of pure ardor, tongues becoming exploratory as you brazenly lapped at his lower lip. It was messy and hot, feverishly so, bringing the both of you to heel as you happily drowned within desire.

The sensation of his cock filling you completely, nearly kissing your womb, almost made you sob from delight. The friction of your bodies was a delicious thing, with your chest brushing against his, knees squeezing near his waist, hands gripping his shoulders. Your nails sank into the muscle there, countenance one of complete and utter pleasure.

Cregan untangled his lips from yours, finding the column of your throat, greedily kissing and nipping wherever he could. Your taste was ambrosial, skin delicate and saccharine beneath his mouth. You moaned, one hand moving to tug at his chestnut tresses, bringing your hips down upon his cock again and again.

The sluggishness of the repetitive motion was agonizingly wonderful — the pace was perfect, not rough enough in the slightest, but passionate, instead. You much preferred this, the intimacy and closeness of it all, the way in which heat radiated between the both of you.

You felt incredible, every fiber of your body burning for him, arousal thick and heavy between your thighs. “Cregan,” A noisy moan escaped you, grinding yourself against him, hips flush together. It was as if you were touched by hot embers, the heat raking across your body time and time again. “Cregan!”

A deep, trembling groan tore past his mouth, one that made your belly fill with liquid fire. You shivered within his grasp, feeling his lips clamor to the underside of your jaw, nose brushing against your chin. His cock throbbed with a sense of urgency, slick with precum.

He continued to guide you, hands descending from your hips to the pliant flesh of your haunches, digits sinking into your derrière. Despite the chill of the rain and song of the storm raging around you, Cregan kept you anchored, warmth radiating from him.

Your hands deftly roamed across his musculature, coming to plant themselves against the expanse of his chest, his heart thudding beneath your palm. “That’s it.” Cregan rumbled, kissing at your jaw before he finally coaxed you in for a passionate kiss. He wanted you to come undone for him.

The intensity of your release blindsided you, crashing into you like a wave breaking upon the rock. Your nails desperately scratched at Cregan’s chest, sinking into his collarbone as you bucked forward. He continued to guide you up and down along his cock until your legs rattled like leaves in the wind.

Cregan joined you, following suit as he reached his peak, forehead bumping into yours as he sought your mouth for a tender kiss. He swallowed your sweet moans, spilling his seed into your cunt. Hot ropes of his spend filled you completely, causing the both of you to sigh, a low rumble reverberating from his throat.

You very nearly collapsed within his lap, heaving with excitable pants, basking in the aftermath of your release. In an intimate gesture, you kissed his jaw, peppering his visage in soft kisses that only made Cregan pull you closer. “Are you alright?” He murmured, running a hand along your side.

“I am,” You smiled, palm reaching to cup his cheek. Cregan’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing a kiss to the silky skin there. Thunder crackled overhead, followed by a flash of lightning, the onslaught of rain pounding overhead. “It seems you’ve no choice but to stay.”

A bemused huff left Cregan, who seemed more than content to share your tent. “Thank the Gods for the deluge, then.” He rumbled, continuing to kiss from your wrist to your hand. A shiver rolled down the length of your spine, aided by his affectionate gestures.

Removing yourself from his lap, you settled down to lay beside him on the floor of your tent, gazing up at the damp canvas. The Warden of the North descended to you, offering you a muscular arm to rest against, moving the furs around the both of you.

It was a comfortable silence, born in the aftermath of your lovemaking as you curled against Cregan, palm settling above his abdomen. “When do you ride next?” You uttered, referring to the raging war that you were both caught within. It was easy to not think much of it when you were with him.

“On the morrow,” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together. He loathed the thought of leaving again, now that he had so much more to lose. His calloused digits idly traced around your shoulder, his other arm propped beneath his head. “We will fight hard, like Northerners.”

A subtle terror gripped your heart, foul tendrils sinking into every fiber of your being. You sat up just enough to gaze upon him, fingers drifting toward the slope of his jaw. “Promise me that you’ll be careful.” You uttered, stern as could be.

Cregan could not make such a promise — war was harrowing, and it was unpredictable. Instead, he reached for your face, holding you there as he met your gaze. “I will try,” A low rumble left him, gray eyes boring into you with devotion. “Should I fall prey to another arrow or sword, I will know who to seek.”

It was difficult not to smile, in spite of everything. You sighed, leaning in to kiss him, allowing gentleness and ardor to prevail. A low grunt escaped Cregan, gray hues fluttering shut as he drew you closer into the warmth of his musculature.

“I would certainly hope so.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal my work and claim it as your own. please do not translate my works onto other platforms.

[chosocutegf]

Choso x fem!reader

cw: smut, creampies

Choso loves to cum inside you. If you asked him, he would probably say that it’s also one of his favourite things to do of all time.

And when Choso cums inside you is nasty. He has you in all positions: missionary, lotus, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl…

Everyone is aware that he also loves experimenting new positions, and that’s because he wants to find different way in which he can cum inside you.

But he loves to take you in doggy style, kneeling behind you while you do that beautiful arch with your back. He doesn’t really like that he can’t see your face and that’s why he makes you turn your head to the side on the pillows, and wants to hear you scream. For him, in a way your moans and cries compensate for the fact that he can’t clearly look at your face.

He becomes a madman when he takes you from behind. He holds your hips and ruts inside you so fast, that after slipping too many times in bed and hitting your head against the headboard, now you prefer to rest your head down on the bed and let him literally fold you in half.

When he has you in this position it’s like he transforms into another person. His gaze is fixed on your ass rippling with his hard thrusts, sometimes glancing up at your head when he hears a particular pornographic moan, signalling that you liked what he just did. That makes him go impossibly harder and faster.

He likes to push you back on him, so hard that sometimes it happens that he has bruises on his hips. But he doesn’t care; he wants to cum inside you. And that’s what he does, every time.

Choso doesn’t last long, but poor boy, it’s because your cunt is squeezing him so hard to the point that it’s difficult to move inside of you. His big fat cock drills into you and your pussy sucks him inside, as if she wanted to keep him nestled inside forever.

So when his tip repeatedly bumps against your sweet spot and your walls squeeze him hard, he can’t help but cum. He stills inside you deep, and keeps thrusting until the last waves of his orgasm don’t wear off. And when he pulls back, his gaze is fixed on the cum oozing out of you. It’s thick and pearly white, and comes out of you in fat globes.

But Choso’s peculiarity is that his cock is still hard even after he came so much. So when he comes out of his trance, he pounds inside of you again. And he comes shortly after, because he is getting overstimulated and pussy drunk. When he cums again, it makes you giggle and you glance back at him with a smile. You see Choso’s fucked out face, while he slowly pulls out again and looks down at your pussy, and your twitching hole from where his cum just got out like a fountain. It was so much. It makes you moan and shake your ass for him.

Choso moans at the sight and immediately thrusts back inside of you, biting his lower lip because he feels himself already on the brink. Now he is really overstimulating himself so, if you happen to look back, you would see him tearing up. But he doesn’t stop and when he comes this time, is even more than last time.

You wonder how is that possible, because who has this much cum inside of them? Well, guess that Choso has. When he pulls away again, your pussy is swollen, and your hole is gaping open, and his cum comes out slowly from you and ends up on the bed under you.

Choso looks down and there is a pool of his cum, which make his hips twitch at the sight. It’s so much. Too much of his thick cum, like a puddle.

He moans your name and reaches up to spread his cum around your velvety pussy. He loves to spread it around, finger it back inside, rub it against your throbbing clit and on your ass cheeks. He is so messy.

He rubs your clit and you moan at the feeling, arching your back and trying to grind against his hand, but he removes it. Before you can whine at the loss, he leans down and licks a fat stripe along your pussy. You scream at the feeling.

He doesn’t let you cum yet, and he is quick to piston his cock back inside you for the last time. He grabs your ass harshly and pulls you back against him, and a few seconds later, he is coming again inside of you.

When he pulls back and observes the mess he did, his cum is slowly coming out of your pretty cunt which can’t stop twitching as if she is beckoning him to get back inside.

But his cock is flaccid and soft against his thigh, and he doesn’t think he can’t have another one.

He leans back, observing satisfied the mess he did and, when you ask him if he is satisfied, he nods sleepily. You smile at the sight of him, looking pussy drunk behind you, eyes half lidded, hair sticking at his forehead and his strong muscular body covered in sweat. He is fucking handsome.

Before you can reach to him behind you, he is quick to latch his mouth to your pussy and suck his cum from your hole. So yeah, Choso loves to cum inside you and… after he is done, to give your cunt all the attention she deserves.

I’m horny and I need Choso

(m.list)

[houseofaegon]

WICKED GAME ✩ Sebastian Stan

STATUS: Work In Progress.

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Fem!OC.

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. angst, very slow burn, cheating, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. all warnings will be updated on each chapter.

masterlist. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3.

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Genevieve Amelia Rothschild is a problem.

Born into old money and scandals, raised in million-dollar penthouses and pressed into silk dresses, forced into etiquette and expectations. But beneath the polished surface, she's always been something else entirely—a wildfire wrapped in couture and gold, a scandal waiting to happen.

She's spent her years living fast, breaking rules, and racking up headlines. Party girl. Wild child. Black sheep. Always too much—and always exactly what the press loves to hate.

Now she's twenty-five and engaged to a man she doesn't love. The wedding is a carefully arranged spectacle—beautiful, calculated, entirely hollow, and nothing but a fucking lie. The guest list read like a who's who of high society, of the elites. The dress? Dior. The venue? A billion-dollar mansion in Los Angeles. The whole world watching. All Ginny has to do is smile and behave. 

But behaving has never been her specialty.

After one too many public disasters, her mother sends her away to Sicily. Alone. "To rest," she says. "To stay out of trouble."

Ginny is exiled to Sicily, to the White Lotus—a luxury resort carved into the cliffs above the sea, where everything smells like citrus, stillness, Aperol Spritz, and the staff are trained to forget your name. It's beautiful, remote, elite, and fucking suffocating. 

She drinks too much, sunbathes too long, and drapes herself in expensive silk and bathing suits. She's bored. Restless. One sharp breath away from doing something reckless.

Then she sees him.

Sebastian fucking Stan. 

He's older than she remembers. Quieter. Distant in a way that makes it impossible to stop looking. He came to the White Lotus to disappear.  He's here under a fake name, hiding after a very public divorce and a slow-motion fall from grace. He came to disappear. To be left alone. And Ginny? She's the last kind of person he should want.

Too loud. Too rich. Too well-known.

But she looks at him like she already knows all his secrets.

And he watches her like she's the first real thing he's seen in months.

She's spoken for.

He's sworn off.

But something about the Sicilian heat makes you forget the rules.