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surielstea · 7 months ago

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Desperate Males

1k celebration request!

Pairing: Poly!Batboys x Fem!Reader

Summary: Morrigan convinces Reader to indulge in her fantasies with the three winged Illyrians, the ones that the reader resents for the way they treat her home court, the hewn city.

A. Note: Thank you my lovely Lex (@lexluvswriting) for helping me finish this because I was STRUGGLING but I’m happy with how it turned out in the end :)

8.1k words .. half of it’s smut, whoops.

Rita's was packed full of lusting fae and grinding figures, every single body in the pleasure hall was glistening with sweat beneath the dim lighting as they continued to rut against each other.

I was sat in the corner of the building, at a small booth I was sharing with Morrigan, gossiping about our relationship issues over a few too many glasses of wine.

Mor was one of the only people I could tolerate ever since Rhys dragged me out of the Court of Nightmares and to Velaris. I hadn't had much of a choice, the moment he found out I was his mate, he felt some form of entitlement to me, he was fortunate he wasn't ripping me away from anything special, less fortunate when he realized I held the mating bond with his two best friends as well. All three of them, sanctioned to me, a female who had no intention of ever accepting any of their bonds.

Mor was from the hewn city as well, born and raised in that wretched court. It made it easier to talk to her, she understood what I meant when I said it felt like I was living a lie, too good to be true and she knew what I meant when I tried to explain my fear of the ever-imposing threat that it'd be ripped out right from under me at any moment. No one could truly understand the way she could, and though my resentment towards the inner circle was much stronger than hers, she made an effort to relate and be there for me.

"So, how are the boys?" Mor grins suggestively before taking a sip from her drink. I groan, slumping into my seat as I think about the three very annoying males she was referring to.

"Desperate," I grumble and she chuckles into her glass.

"How so?" She smiles, leaning onto her hand propped up by her elbow. "Give me some examples," She urges.

I shake my head with an eye roll, saying, "I don't have any." She gives me an undefeated look, a raise of her brows telling me she was waiting for me to go on. "The stories are too long," I argue but she still remains unwavering.

"Good thing we've got time," She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable as if she was prepared to stay in the pleasure hall with me all night. "Start with Rhys."

Rhysand had a tendency of showing up to the house of wind unannounced, quite a lot. So much so that the male has probably been in this house more than his own. To be fair, he was the one paying for it so I suppose this was just as much his house as any of his other residences, but ever since I started living here his visits began to grow personal. I've only been residing in Velaris for a few months now but he still made it his mission to see me at least every other day. Each time he welcomed himself into the large house he'd have some sort of gift with him, tonight was no exception.

I didn't startle when I heard the front door open, and I barely even flinched when his baritone voice crooned from the direction of the couch as I entered the sitting room. He had his long legs stretched across the couch, his head tilted back against the armrest, and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Evening, darling," He drawls and I look at him with an indifferent expression.

"It's the middle of the night," I grumble, going into the kitchen and grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

"I knew you were awake," He intoned and I rolled my eyes, filling my glass up with cold water.

"I'm about to go to bed," I claim, approaching the sitting room to look at him. He angles his head to meet my gaze, a sloppy smirk on his lips.

"Can I join?" He bats his eyelashes dramatically and I debate splashing my freshly poured water into his face. I decide not to, instead silently turning on my heel and retreating down the hallway. He shuffles off the couch and follows right behind me but I pay him no mind. I push open my bedroom door, leaving it open for his entry, because even if he agitated me it'd be a lie to say I disliked his attention. I was a simple female, and making him chase me like this so successfully was amusing, if not a little cruel.

"I have a gift for you," He informs in a sing-song tune.

"When do you not?" I say, placing my water down onto my nightstand and crawling into my large bed, Rhys had insisted on the size when we went furniture shopping so it could fit his wings, I had ignored his foolish assumption that he would ever sleep in my bed, but let him buy me the most expensive mattress anyway.

He reaches into a pocket dimension and removes a flat, rectangular, velvet box, one made for holding tiaras.

"I don't want your money Rhys," I sigh, watching as he situated himself on my bed, his long legs on either side of my hips, encasing me as I practically sit in his lap. "It's not money," He puts a hand up, waving me off. "I don't want your jewels or crowns either," I huff as he places the velvet box directly in front of me.

"It's not— just open it, will you?" His eyes plead with me more than his words. I stifle a curse and pick the ornate box up. It was heavier than I had been expecting, my brows crease as I slowly tilt the lid open, revealing what was inside. It wasn't money or gems, or even a fancy tiara, but a sleek dagger.

The hilt was solid obsidian, embellished with gold detailing, so well crafted it almost felt wrong to be in my hands. Deep red rubies adorned the top of the hilt in a teardrop shape, pointing up to the blade that's been polished to an impossibly sharp edge, Illyrian steel based upon the rich color of the metal. It was utterly elegant, in such a lethally arresting way.

I take the dagger from its confining box, my touch is delicate as I admire it from all angles, the blade moves so fluidly like the steel morphed into liquid when moving through the air. "You like it?" Rhys' voice breaks me from my trance and I grip the hilt a little tighter, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"It's unlike anything I've seen before," I murmur, still entranced by its beauty and the way it moved. He smiled at that, proud of himself for finding a way to impress me.

"It's an heirloom," He confesses and my expression drops, looking up at him.

"I can't take this," I immediately say, attempting to shove the dagger back into his hands.

"Sure you can," He sighs. "I have no use for it, and I heard you have a collection of pretty blades," He says, leaning back on his palms and ignoring the way I was haphazardly thrusting the dagger toward him.

"No, Rhys," I declare and his ears perk at the use of his nickname, he's been only Rhysand specifically for the last few months. "I can't, you're only doing all of this because we're supposed to be mates," I say. "I'm not worthy of your gifts, you're just blinded by the effects of the bond,” I say but my explanation must’ve failed to reach his ears because his smile simply remains.

"Darling, I'm a powerful male, if I didn't want the mating bond to affect me I wouldn't let it," He says cockily and I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling at his pride. "I'm doing this, because I want to, it's that simple," He places his large hands on mine, closing my fingers around the dagger. "But, if you don't want it then—" He starts and I shake my head hurriedly. "No, no I do want it," I grip his hands tighter and his brows raise a fraction. "Perfect," His smile returns, but his hands don't let go of mine and maybe for a moment I let myself indulge in his comforting touch.

"And you're telling me the two of you didn't fuck after that?" Mor questioned, an appalled look on her face as I ended my story about the High Lord.

"He gave me a blade, it wasn't exactly getting me hot and bothered," I scoff and she smirks.

"He could've given you another blade," She murmured under her breath but it wasn't quiet enough for me to miss. "Mor!" I look at her with wide eyes but she only snickers.

"Okay, I'm not totally convinced you dislike him, but tell me about Cass," She urges and I deadpan.

"Are you going to make sex jokes again?" I raise an assuming brow.

"No promises," She croons. "Now tell me about him."

Cassian loved to strut around half-naked. His shirt was often absent when I was around. It was an obvious ploy to swoop me off my feet, to get me drooling over his more than impressive abdomen and his arms that could crush my head in. And perhaps I did drool over him in the solitude of my bedroom, but I'd never let him know that.

I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my dinner when I nearly choked on my bite of food as Cassian strolled in, clad in nothing but pants and glistening in sweat from training. His hair was tied up in a messy bun that sat at the back of his head, a sword half the size of me slung over his shoulder in a sheath. I swallow my food with effort, my eyes unable to avert from every expanse of skin starting below his neck.

"Hey sweetheart," He says, kicking the front door shut. I snapped my gaze to his but the smirk on his face made it evident that he caught me staring. "Did you make dinner?" He asked, propping his sword up against the side of the counter. I didn’t make dinner, he knew that, because if I had I would be retroactively accepting the mating bond, he just wanted to put the idea in my head.

"Az did," I say through bites, the shadow singer beside me, silently reading a book, successfully not paying Cassian any mind unlike me.

"Is it any good or do you miss my cooking?" He asks with an amused smile, earning him a glare from the spymaster.

"It's delicious," I say, taking another large bite. I hadn't meant to indirectly compliment Azriel but he slightly smiled at my insult on Cassian, then returning to his reading.

The other male grumbled beneath his breath like a toddler throwing a fit as he made himself a plate that seemed more like a feast fit for a starving man, walking to the table and sitting down directly in front of me.

"You're not going to change?" I ask and he raises a brow and looks down at himself.

"Do you, want me to?" He said, slightly confused.

"Well, what if I started showing up to dinner shirtless?" I cross my arms with a scowl, Cassian's eyes light with amusement and Azriel begins to choke on his own air, muffling his coughs as he stuffed his face into his arms.

"I don't think we'd mind," Cassian winked at me and I looked down at my plate, silently cursing myself for walking right into that one.

"I just think it's bad table manners, is all," I murmur, leaning onto my hand as I roll my food over with my fork, playing with it aimlessly.

"If it has that much of an effect on you, I'll go change," He begins to stand and I whip my gaze up, staring at him with creased brows, not wanting him to think I was entirely bothered by it.

"It doesn't have an effect on me," I blurt out and a smirk curves his lips.

"Then I won't change," He sits back down.

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," He agrees.

Dinner went on a regularity from there, that was until I was clearly done with my food and I hadn't retreated to my room like usual, instead, I was far too distracted analyzing all the scars on Cassian's tanned skin, the ones that had stories behind them that I'd most likely never hear, the ones I would've never seen if he hadn't come home without a shirt.

His chest was on full display, rippling in muscle, a tight abdomen that would have me lying if I said my mouth wasn't watering when I stared at it for a moment too long. And gods, his arms made my thoughts wander beyond just arousal, it was more than a craving. My hands were practically shaking in my lap and I was just grateful they were beneath the table.

My eyes snag on a particular scar cutting across his ribs and up to his sternum, it must've been a mess of blood and gore when he got it, only for it to heal over as a simple line slightly darker than his skin tone, beautiful.

"I got it in a duel," Cassian said and I whipped my head up, locking eyes with him.

"What?" I say, my back ramrod straight, visibly embarrassed by the fact that I was just caught for staring so unabashedly.

"My scar," He places a hand over it, tracing two fingers down the raised skin with a practiced, rehearsed movement like he's down it thousands of times before. "It was from an angry husband, his wife neglected to mention she was married and he took some offense towards our, familiarity." He explained. "Insisted on a duel," He shrugged, and I blinked in slight shock.

"You, lost a duel?" I said like the idea was obscene. "Aren't you considered one of the best swordsmen on the continent?" I raised a brow and he shrugged.

"Seemed like the right thing to do," He flashed a charming smile that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before. "You're ridiculous," I said, standing up and grabbing my plate, walking into the kitchen to place my dishes in the sink. The Illyrian followed after me with his own plate, reaching over me and placing it in the basin beside mine.

I whirl around, which turned out to be admittedly a mistake. His bare chest was so close to my face that it was an effort to crane my neck up, keeping eye contact and not letting myself crumble beneath his gaze. "What do you think?" He asks and my eyes regrettably flick down to the scar, and I can't help myself as I reach forward, my fingers brushing over the rough line of skin and I swear for a moment both of us stop breathing. I tentatively pull my hand away, looking up at him with a smirk.

"I think you have enough testosterone to fuel an army," I hum, patting his chest before pushing past him and removing myself from the kitchen, attempting to ignore the way my hand remembered the feel of his skin against it.

Cassian turned to Azriel as soon as I was out of earshot. "That's a good thing, right?" The male mutters with a line between his brows. Azriel's eyes flick up from his novel to look at his brother. "I don't think so, no." He shakes his head, then returns to his page while Cassian's shoulders slump in defeat and he retreats to his room to find a shirt.

"You're telling me, you had your hand on Cassian, the male pushing seven feet, skin to skin and you didn't immediately surrender?" Morrigan says, her brows creased as she grows increasingly worried about my well-being. "Are you sick or something?" She reaches over the table, pressing a hand to my forehead and I scoff, the annoyed sound turning into a laugh as I push her hand away.

"I'm not sick," I claim. "Just a female who has no interest in large, muscular, beautiful, tan males," I grumble, taking a sip from my glass, my voice trailing off as I go on about how truly magnificent they are.

"Right," She settles back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, unconvinced. "So," She smirks. "I know you've been saving the best for last," She leans forward, her grin uncontrollable as she rests her elbows on the table while she insists, "Tell me about Azriel."

My experience in Velaris so far was enjoyable— despite the three winged males, the people were kind here, the men didn't stare, the children weren't sickly, and the women held more value than the curvature of their bodies. It was nice here, like some false paradise.

A small part of me would forever hate Rhys and all the others living in his secret city for blindly living their perfect lives, while innocent people dreaded waking up every morning— because the best time they spent was unconscious, in their horrid city just below the mountain, only a short trip away. Such a drastic shift of atmosphere.

Sometimes when my guilt of being happy began to grow too unbearable I found myself in the library. The first and only place so far I've felt entirely safe. It was quiet here, enough to clear my thoughts, but not enough for unwanted ones to creep in. Priestesses bustled around the building with carts and stacks of books, keeping the tenor lively and welcoming.

So it was a shock when my safe space was suddenly and harshly ripped away from me when I saw a familiar winged Illyrian sitting in the spot I always chose. It wasn't mine by any means, but the bastard must've known this was the alcove I selected every time I came here, there was no way he just so happened to favor this spot as well with the amount of floors alone this place had.

"Move," I was particularly upset this morning due to lack of sleep from incessant nightmares. He only smirks, his eyes slow as they left the book he was so engrossed with, and dragged up to my features. Hazel pools flickering with amusement as he meets my gaze.

"Oh? Is this your spot?" He tilts his head mockingly and I grip my book harder.

I disliked Rhys for how he acts in the Hewn City, and Cassian for his overtly boisterous and arrogant behavior, but Azriel— no one quite got under my skin like Azriel. I couldn't exactly pin down why he made me so frustrated, perhaps it was because he would be the easiest to like, or maybe it was because I always thought he was the prettiest whenever they'd make their annual appearance in my home court, something about that particular fact made me hot with both rage and excitation.

"Well, I haven't exactly seen you sitting here before," I argue, clutching my book to my chest with furrowed brows.

"Fair point," He hums while scooting over and offering me a few more inches of space. It wasn't exactly the largest amount of seating area but he was kind enough to move, and I was far too tired to continue arguing. So I settled in beside him.

The spot I favored over all the others was nestled in a carved-out alcove, hidden from any peering eyes, located between shelves full of various hardback spines. The only viewpoint was from the balcony upstairs, or straight ahead. It felt safe, and I've yet to find any other place I liked as much as this one, so I was open to sharing as long as he kept to his book and I kept to mine, silently.

But the olive green couch wasn't big enough for the both of us and I quietly cursed his insanely large wings for taking up the entire area, one of the dark limbs spread out behind me while the other hung off the edge of the couch, the one behind my back however forced me closer to him, my side pressed against his, and my legs that I had pressed to my chest leaning onto his lap, so much so that I might as well have just been sitting in it, we must've looked ridiculous.

Nevertheless, he opened his book back up and offered me the peaceful quiet I craved. I did the same, cracking my book and finding the page I was on.

It was nice for a moment, the awkward silence morphing into something more comfortable as it grew familiar between us. I had even gotten a few chapters in before I reached a much more, graphic, chapter. The descriptions were downright erotic, and suddenly everything the male did stopped mattering because I was now entirely consumed by the book I had randomly picked off the shelves this morning.

"What are you reading?" He was so very close to my ear that I felt his breath against it, and I snapped my book shut, the sound echoing off the shelves of the quiet library.

"None of your business," I retort, whipping my head to him with stern brows, he narrows his at me suspiciously. "What about you?" I jerk my head towards his closed book like it's been neglected for more than just a few seconds. "Is it a guide on how to kill your brothers? Because I might be interested in reading that one next," I say with a smirk and he mirrors it.

"I wish, Cass practically kicked me out this morning with his atrocious singing while he made himself lunch," He grumbled and my lip quivered upward, my amusement unmanageable at the scene he put in my head, and I cursed myself because, of course, he notices.

"Oh, you think I'm funny?" He says and he was so damned close that one inch closer would result in noses brushing.

"Shh." I press my pointer finger to his soft lips. "No talking in the library." I smirk at him teasingly, removing my touch from his sensuous lips, dragging the bottom one down only for it to spring back up when I let go in an oddly satisfying way.

"We don't have to talk," He suggests, catching my hand before it can fall to my lap. My cheeks grow hot as he interlaces our fingers, palms pressing together, soft skin against scars. He notices my blush and moves that lethal inch closer, the tip of his nose ghosting against mine. "You want to kiss me so badly," He continues his taunts and I scowl, but I don't dare move away.

"Shut up," I bite back.

"Are you going to make me?" He arches a perfect brow and I grit my teeth, deciding I won't play his stupid games. I detangle our hands and turn away from him, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

"You're just as bad as your brothers," I claim, opening my book again.

"You wound me," He gasps in faux pain and I roll my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one?" I huff, attempting to find the page I was on.

"Just because they're loud doesn't mean I don't speak too," He states, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Whatever," I grumble, and his wing curls around me a little tighter. He stayed silent for a moment, just a moment of relieving peace, but it was over as soon as it began and I was grateful for the second, but the opposite of gratitude came over me when he spoke again.

"This is filthy, love," He runs his finger down the edge of my book and I close the novel again, this time quietly so it doesn't reverberate throughout the library again.

"I'm not shaming you," His voice is deep and seductive as he speaks, so very close to my ear I swear with every word I could feel it vibrate down my spine. "Just wanted to let you know I'm open to recreating it," He suggested and I sighed, deciding I'd had enough of his banter, and stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I looked back to him.

"You're relentless," I say and he shrugs with a coy smile.

"No goodbye kiss?" He hums and I only shake my head and storm out of the alcove, leaving the library more frustrated than I was when I arrived.

"And?" Mor gestures her hands, demanding more.

"That was it," I shrug.

"You didn't go back and make out with him?" She creased her brows like I was insane.

"No, because I don't need a male to enjoy my life," I say. "You are one to understand that," I suggest with my brows raising and she simply rolls her eyes with dissatisfaction.

"Yeah, but— that doesn't mean you should strip yourself the pleasure of having all three of them," She wiggles her brows and my cheeks grow hot. "Or you could just pick one and miss out with the rest," She adds, before taking a sip from her glass, the liquid inside nearly gone.

I thought it might've been impossible to just pick one. They all had their own personalities and unique qualities, and what if I somehow chose wrong? What if my decision came between the three of them? Then again why can't I just have all three of them? They're all so kind to me, and they're funny, and so very gorgeous, and— "Oh gods, I'm in love," I gasp quietly, my hand cupping over my mouth at the devastating recognition.

Morrigan only nods with a wide grin, like she's been waiting for me to realize since we sat down in this booth. "What do I do?" Suddenly I don't know how to think, or how to act.

"Put them out of their misery and feed those poor bastards," She proposed and I groaned with defiance.

“I’ve been working so hard to ignore their pathetic acts for the last five months, I can’t just give in now.” I practically melt onto the table, my head falling into my arms dramatically.

“Hey, listen to me,” She grabs me by the face, smushing my cheeks as she emphasizes every word. “Do you want them to fuck you senseless?” She asks and I sigh, but inevitably nod with a pitying frown. “Then go." She releases my face and shoos me with her hands and I smile as I stand up. “You’re the best Morrigan,” I claim and she winks at me. “I know,” She shrugs and I blow her a kiss before winnowing to where the tether between the three men felt the strongest.

Which landed me in a cabin I'd never been in before, the sitting room warmed by the crackling fire in the hearth.

Whatever conversation the three males were having halted when I showed up. They all looked at me with analyzing eyes, raking up and down my figure, still in my party dress from Rita's, the material tight, hugging every curve and dip of my body and ending high on my thighs, showing off the entirety of my legs and an obscene amount of cleavage, which the males definitely didn't miss.

Cassian and Rhys were sat on a sofa in front of the fire, Azriel was situated in a large leather chair that he claimed like some sort of king, distanced from the fire I notice. All three of them had short crystal glasses, a matching decanter sat on the coffee table halfway filled with an amber liquid.

"Hey, sweetheart," Cassian was the first to speak. "What brings you here?" He hums and I clench my jaw. What was I doing here? Silently I whirl on my heel and walk towards the kitchen, finding a bowl of fruit situated on the counter. I grabbed an orange from the variety, taking my time to peel the rind off, the three of them staring at me curiously as I approached them again, splitting the pieces of the fruit into thirds, handing each of them a slice without a single word.

"Are oranges supposed to pair well with whiskey?" Rhys held the fruit up, staring at it confused as if the High Lord truly didn't understand what was going on. He wasn't seriously going to make me say it, was he?

"Eat," I demand but they only stare at me with blank eyes and I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "Whoever's orange is gone first I'll make out with," I say and within the blink of an eye all three of their slices of fruit were gone, but I caught Azriel swallowing first so I approach him and take the liberty of sliding over his lap.

He wastes no time before putting his hands on me and pulling me into him, his lips immediately finding mine.

I smile at the citrusy taste still ghosting his tongue as he pushes it into my mouth, tasting every inch he can find like a starved animal, craving more. My hand goes into his hair while his scarred ones slowly slip beneath my dress, gripping me tightly and pinning me down onto his hips, allowing me to feel just how hard he was beneath me.

Desperate, indeed.

"Az," I whine softly and he groans at the sound, his kisses turning sloppy as he loses himself entirely in the taste of me.

"Alright," Cassian's voice calls, familiar, large hands coming to my waist and pulling me off of Azriel's lap with ease, throwing me over a broad shoulder.

"Is this what it's going to be like mated to you three?" I say, still upside down as Cassian's hands roam the backs of my thighs, then higher. "Passed around between you three like some doll?" I say, secretly not minding the idea.

"If you don't want to be passed around," He tosses me down onto a large bed. "We can always share at once," He hums and I had an unshakable feeling that I would be split in half if I took all of them for the first time, at once.

"No, I like being passed around," I say with bright red cheeks and he smirks, guiding me up onto the bed, my head meeting the pillows.

"Then who do you want first?" He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Rhys," I look to the high lord. "I want Rhys," I say and the violet-eyed male raised a brow, his smirk uncontrollable as he approached the bedside. Cassian moved off of me and Rhys took his place over me, his lips finding mine with ease.

He kisses softly at first but that only last so long before he's leaving my mouth and beginning to nip and suck on my neck, licking over it to soothe the marks. I writhe beneath him, my hands in his dark hair as I ache for more. I reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt with one hand before moving to the ties confining his hardened bulge.

"No darling, you're going to ride me," He says breathily into my neck and my hand halts on his pants. He smirked at my reaction and flipped us over so I was on top. He unzips the back of my dress with ease, helps me slip it off with gentle hands as I straddle over his hips, now completely bare for all three of them, but it was only Rhys' eyes I was focused on at the moment.

I rut my hips down over the imprint in his pants, releasing a soft sigh as the action puts friction on my clit. He smiled up at me and how needy I was for him already.

He takes his pants the rest of the way off, his boxers along with it and I can't help but smile at the sight of him, his tip pulsing and red, and the length of him was intimidating enough on its own. "You think you're ready for me?" He asks, ripping my panties off with an ease I marveled at, but before I could reply to his question he swiped his fingers through my folds and my breath hitched at the stimulation, my arousal soaking his fingers, he pulls them back for me to see and I flush in embarrassment at how wet I already was.

"Oh, darling I've barely touched you," he smirks and I look away from his eyes, attempting to get my blush under control. "There's no need to be shy," He guides my face back to look at him. "Be good and take all of me, yeah?" He arches a dark brow and I nod, placing my hands on his chest as I rise on my knees while he helps align himself with my entrance.

He looks at me pointedly and I nod, then sink myself down onto him, ever so slowly.

"That's it," He grunts out as my cunt swallows around the head of his cock. He throws his head back into the pillows as I sink deeper, reaching the halfway point and clenching around him hard.

My nails scratched down his chest as the unfamiliar stretched, his eyes gleaming with pure lust until eventually my hips pressed against his and I let out a sinful moan as he brushed up against that bundle of nerves deep inside of me, kissing it softly.

"Rhys," I sigh, my nails digging into his abdomen as my cunt twitched around him. His hands come to my hips, slowly guiding me back and forth, manually making me grind on him.

"Fuck, taking me so well," He grits between his teeth, already restraining himself.

My back involuntarily arches as he kisses up against that sensitive spot again, moans tumbling from my lips as I begin to bounce myself up and down on his cock. He smiles hazily, his hands leaving my waist in favor of cupping my breasts, rubbing his calloused thumbs over my peaked nipples. My breath hitched at the sensation, clenching around him tighter as he groped them, tweaking them between his fingers, making my release barrel closer.

"So good for me, getting yourself off on my cock," He admires and I nod, a whimper slipping from my lips as I pull myself out to his tip then let gravity slam me back down onto him, the head of his length pounding into my sacred spot, making me release a lewd moan, screaming out his name as I clamp around the width of him, a ring of white forming around the base of his cock.

"Feels so, so good darling," He says breathlessly. "Such a good girl," He murmurs and I throw my head back at the praise.

"I'm close— Rhys, I can't," I pant out, unable to catch my breath with the way he relentlessly pounded into my cunt. "Me too, fuck— keep doing that," He grunted. "Keep squeezing me so tight, just like that," He instructs and I nod, my pussy taking all of him as he twitches deep inside of me, signaling that he was close.

I go faster, my thighs burning with the movement but I ignore the pain, delighting in the pleasure he was giving me. He pounds into me relentlessly, both of us teetering along that edge, and the moment his hands find my nipples again I'm left helpless, and suddenly I rise to my climax, coming to a crescendo as I meet my peak of pleasure.

I gasp as his warm cum seeps into my cunt, spurting out of his cock with one last clench of my core and he released a thick white liquid. "Gods, such a good girl," He sighs out, his large hands groping my breasts one last time before they dip down to my waist, and help guide me off of his length, laying me back into the bed.

"Cass," I murmured, keeping my legs together in order to hold Rhys' release inside of me. "Cassian, I want you next," I pant out, still not entirely over the high that Rhys left me with but I already wanted more, and lucky for me the male was there quickly, switching with Rhys as he hovers over me, his pants already absent and his cock leaking a milky substance, the sight making my mouth water. He was noticeably wider than Rhys, and I debated whether or not he'd tear me in two.

"Flip around, wanna feel your pretty pussy from behind," He hums and I do as he says, turning onto my stomach and hiking up onto my knees. His calloused hands find my hips, helping me guide them up higher, my back forming a perfect crescent as I keep my face in the pillows and maximize my arch.

"You ready for more sweetheart?" He asks and I nod, tears welling in my eyes as his heavy cock slaps against my soaking folds, my arousal dripping onto him as Rhys' release cascaded down my thighs. He lathers himself in my liquids, his pre-cum adding to the mixture.

"Want you, Cass," I murmur. "Don't hold back," I add and I can practically feel the way he was smirking. His tip prodding against my pulsing entrance.

"Tell me if it's too much alright?" He kisses my shoulder softly, his rough voice gentle as it meets my ear. I nod, but before any more words are spoken he grips my hips tighter and thrusts inside of me.

I gasp, breath being lost on me as I fist the sheets beneath me. "Cass," I cry out, the width of him stretching against my walls, molding me to him.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," He sighs out and I gripe, writhing beneath him as he pushes deeper and deeper, forcing my legs wider so he could enter more comfortably.

My breathing is labored as his hips finally snap against my ass. He groans at the feeling of his cock entirely sheathed inside of my cunt, stretching me beyond capacity like a sleeve made just for him.

"Please, Cass," I whine and he leans over me, my back bowing against his chest, his lips coming beside my ear.

"We only just started, sweetheart," He taunted, nipping at my shoulder.

Ever so slowly he pulls out, removing himself only about halfway before slamming back into me with an outmatched force. I screamed at the switch of pace, his thrusts coming quickly, pushing me up the bed.

I reached forward, gripping the headboard to stop my body from unconsciously running away from him. He drove his hips forward harshly, his balls slapping against my folds. His hands left my hips in favor of my ass, handling me roughly as I arched beneath him, feeling his width deeper the lower into the pillows I went.

"Good girl.” He throws his head back, sweat glistening as it rolls down his chest, into the groves of his abdomen. I mewl loudly, incapable of forming words as he fucks me beyond sentences.

"Such pretty noises you're making for me," He hums, his lips ghosting against the shell of my ear. "Am I making you feel good?" He whispers and I swallow thickly, tears brimming my eyes as I nod helplessly, defenseless under him like this. He smirks at my unsolicited actions as I grip around his shaft tighter, delighting in how good it feels as he stretches me.

His hands returned to the curve of my ass, gripping the plush skin in his large hands, loving the way it left red imprints, marking me as his, as theirs.

"Pull my hair," I murmur.

"What was that, pretty girl?" He leans over me and I flush shyly, I knew he heard me the first time.

"Pull my hair," I repeat and he smiles.

"Yeah? You want that?" He wraps his hand around my locks, gripping the back of my skull before tugging on it and I moan, my release catching up to me as he manhandles me, just how I wanted. His grip tightens as I squeeze around his cock, his heavy balls continuing to clap against my neglected folds. "That's it, baby, just like that," He assures, watching as I lose myself in the heat, fire blooming over my skin as my release barrels closer and closer.

"Please," Tears slip down my cheeks. "Let me cum, I’m close," I mewl, gripping the headboard tighter, my nails denting the wood.

"Already?" He teased and I nod, pushing myself back onto his cock and he grunts, twitching inside of me and brushing against my elastic walls. "Go ahead, make a mess sweetheart," He allows and I immediately follow his order, my orgasm ripping through me for the second time tonight, his following soon after, shooting his load of cum into me, filling my every crevice and mixing with Rhysand's inside of me.

I grip at the sheets as he pumps into me one last time and I clamp down on him, milking his cock as he slowly removes himself from me and collapses down onto the bed beside me.

My legs ache as I sink back down into the mattress, my intense high slowly fading away as I flip over onto my back.

I jolt as a cold sensation runs up my thighs, skidding across my waist and meeting my breasts, shadows swirling around the peaks of my nipples, slowly tightening and beginning to tweak the hardened buds.

"Az," I sigh, shaking my head. "I can't," I murmur, far too overstimulated to even think about taking another round.

"You can." He comes between my legs, shadows forming at my thighs and prying them open, forcing them to stay even when I try to close them. I can make out the way Cassian's cum seeps out of my cunt and down my ass, the feeling making my mouth water for Azriel's cum too, wanted all of their release to mix in my womb.

"There's so many things I've wanted to do to you," He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my collarbone. "Things I've imagined doing to you," He confesses, beginning to place soft pecks up the side of my neck, to my jaw. "Which one of us do you think of when you touch yourself?" He asks, his lips ghosting over mine and my brows bunch because it'd be a lie if I said I ever thought about just one of them.

"I asked you a question," He purrs, his hands coming to my wrists, gathering them up above my head. "Be a good girl and answer it for me." The tip of his nose runs along the side of my neck before his lips make contact with the side of my throat, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh.

"All of you," I confess, pulling slightly at my wrists as he lets go but shadows have them pinned down too.

"Yeah? Do you like to imagine all three of us ruining all your pretty, wet holes at once?" He croons, his mouth just beside my ear and I writhe, unable to even grind against my own thighs since his shadows were holding me open, leaving me desperate and vulnerable for his own pleasure.

"Az," I whine.

"Tell me," He demands. "Tell me what you think about when your fingers are stuffed in your needy cunt," He hums and my brows crease at how humiliating this all was.

"I think about all three of you, fucking all my pretty holes," I confess and he smiles proudly.

"Yeah? Does that get you off?" He hums and I nod with a whimper, murmuring a pathetic, "Mhm."

His fingers are barely there as he drags them up my figure, then back down to my hips, keeping me restrained as I clench around nothing.

"I need you inside of me, please," I beg and he manically grins, kissing along my jaw, nipping at it as I continue to pull against his shadows.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you?" He taunts and I nod, agreeing with whatever he wants me to as long as he pushes himself inside of me. "Yeah? Don't worry baby, I'm going to ruin you." He said, his grip tightening on my hips as he pressed his tip to my entrance, and without another warning, pushed inside of me.

I screamed his name loudly at the intense feeling, he didn't waste time and he most definitely wasn't gentle like Rhys, or kind like Cassian, he was fucking me like an animal, and I loved every second of it.

Maybe it was because I was overstimulated but he felt so fucking long inside of me, and when his length was fully sheathed in my cunt I swore he was up against my cervix.

Shadows released my thighs for only a moment so that he could adjust my legs, pulling them up to my sides and putting me into a mating press.

"Gods, you're taking me so well," He admires, staring down at me with low-lidded eyes as I let him withdraw everything he wants from me, his cock nestled deep inside of me as I take him deeper and deeper while he fucked me into the mattress, unrelenting and so very stimulating.

"That's it, so fucking good," He throws his head back at the feeling of my puffy cunt squeezing around him torturously tight. "Gods, I'm going to fuck this wet pussy until you beg me to stop," He groans and I moan at his lewd words, and the sounds of his hips slapping against the backs of my thighs, his full balls smacking into my ass as he continued his rough pace.

He looks down at me, sweat lining my forehead and a permanent blush over my cheeks, tears running down the sides of my face as he uses me.

"You look so pretty tied up like this," He smirks, analyzing my every breath, as if needing to remember this for later.

My mouth is open, moans escaping the base of my throat with each of his thrusts, the head of his long cock kissing my cervix and I scream, my nails digging into my palms as I fight off my orgasm, feeling my encroaching climax grow closer and closer.

"Az—" I start, barely able to get his name out before I'm cut off by another moan. "I have to—" I can't even say it, tears blurring my vision as he continues to pummel into me and I deflect my third release. "You already have to cum baby?" He smirks down at me and I nod, so grateful he understood but my gratitude dwindled away with his next words. "You wanna cum? You think you've earned it?"

I nod fervently, my body aching at the position he had me stuck in. I convulse around the base thick of his cock, the back of my head buried in the pillows as I plead for my climax but he wasn't allowing it until he came too.

I force my legs open wider and he hits into me deeper, earning a grunt of pleasure from him.

"I can't Az," I plead. "I promise, I'll be a good girl just, let me cum," I say and he groans at how I sounded begging for my own release, the sounds of my moans pushing him closer to that edge.

"Alright baby, go ahead, come all over my cock," He commands and I obey without another thought, my release slamming into me hard, resulting in me shaking beneath him, my legs jolting as he slowly unpins them and lets me wrap my legs around his torso, riding out my high as he presses into my cervix and with one last harsh thrust he grunts and releases his seed into my womb, mixing it with Rhysand's and Cassian's.

My cunt is left red and swollen as he removes himself from my entrance, I close my legs as soon as he was gone, not letting any of their releases escape me, keeping it tucked inside. The mating bond affected me so much that I wanted to feel this fucked out all the time, have them fill me at every moment, drunk on their cocks.

"You did so well for us," Azriel hums, sinking into the bed beside me, my ass up against him as I flip onto my side and face Cassian, his lips finding mine, biting at my lower one while Rhys' hands fondle my oversensitive breasts. "Poor baby, she thinks we're done," Azriel hums, his cock hardening again, pressing to my ass.

"Please," I whimper but none of them stop their movements.

"It's time to take us all at once, darling," Rhys said and I gasped as I felt his hand cup my heat.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Cass asks and I can only nod helplessly.

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oneforthemunny · 1 month ago

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Omggggg the cowboy eddie’s gorl finding the paddle blurb got me goodddd, cannot stop thinking abt him teaching his girl “the ropes” etc + would lay down my life to read that if you ever get an itch to write that miss munnyhunny

definitely the funnest part of the relationship tbh. like there's a lot of fun but that? that's the peak (sexually at least).

mainly bc he is sooooo nervous. like trying to explain- "i want to hit you but not really, like, i would never. but in a sexy way." like you have no idea that this is a pretty fairly common sexual fantasy. you play coy a little just to hear him stutter and watch him blush.

just had the filthy thought that this would morph into you convincing him to watch a porno with you.

"why don't you rent a movie that shows what you like?" you bat your eyes so sweetly he thinks he's going to pass out.

"like-like a porno?"

"yeah, sure." you shrug, trying to fight the tingle of excitement that's rushing through your veins. "just to better understand. i'm more of a visual learner anyways, baby."

ofc he rents one. is all sweaty palms and shaking legs sitting with you on the couch, your head in his lap- innocently, of course, or so he thinks. you can feel every squirm and tensing of his hips as the film goes on and the actress is bent over the desk, spanked with a paddle, her hands tied behind her back as she dances from foot to foot.

at the end, your positively throbbing, rolling over so your head brushes over his erection. "that's what you like?"

eddie can't reply, throat so tight, all he does is give a short nod.

"hmm," you hum, fingertips tracing over the rough material of his jeans, dangerously close to his zipper. "i think that will be alright." your eyes light up, grinning up at him. "let's try it."

"y-yeah?"

you nod, pushing up on the couch so your faces are inches apart. you kiss him softly, nearly teasingly, before twisting your body, sliding over his lap, resting your head on your folded arms. eddie's sure his heart has stopped beating.

"this ok?" you look up at him through batting lashes. "or do you want my hands behind my back?"

"n-no that's- this is fine." eddie nods, trying to reel himself back in, swallow down his nerves and excitement. "you just let me know if you need me to stop, ok? just say the word and i'll stop, baby."

you nod, hips squirming, grinding purposefully over his bulge. "i will." you paused, looking back over at him. "you can start."

this might be another one that has to come to life.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #cowboy!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #dom!eddie munson x reader

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out.

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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becca-e-barnes · 1 year ago

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Imagine being stepdad Bucky’s dirty little secret😩🤫

I've been listening to 'Bad Man' by FIGHTMASTER and it's inspired some filthy fantasies that would fit stepdad Bucky perfectly 🤤

I have so much I'd like to talk about but I'll start with how hot it would be to have him catch you playing with a toy when you think no one is home. Especially if you'd already been sleeping together but maybe you decided to stop when you got a new boyfriend.

You were so sure the house was empty, you didn't even think twice about slipping your vibrator from it's hiding spot. With your earphones in, you hadn't heard the footsteps down the hallway towards your bedroom. You didn't notice that your door wasn't closed tight either. All that mattered was the delightful buzzing of the toy against your clit, your hand squeezing your own breasts and the flithy thoughts that inspired you to touch yourself.

Fuck, this was a show for Bucky. He hadn't meant to invade your privacy but he wasn't quite sure how to look away. The memory of you writhing in pleasure kept him up at night but now he's getting to see it up close again.

"You really ought to close your door if you're going to do that, sweetheart." You miss the first half of what he said because you weren't able to take your earphones out fast enough, choosing instead to cover yourself.

Bucky only rolls his eyes. "No point covering up, honey. Did you forget I've kissed, licked or bitten pretty much every inch of you already?" There's an overwhelming cockiness in his tone and it makes knots twist in your stomach.

"Look, if that new guy you're dating can't take care of you, you only had to tell me." He steps inside and closes the door behind him and you swear he hasn't taken his eyes off you yet. "I'm not surprised he's not enough for you. I bet he's selfish, isn't he. He doesn't think about you. He won't take the time to learn what you like. He can't make your thighs shake the way I do."

His stare is intense but when you look away, he catches under your chin with two fingers, redirecting your line of sight back to him.

"You don't need to be shy." His voice is soothing, his hand creeping under the sheets and you don't make any effort to stop him from finding what he's looking for. He trails his fingers up your thigh, groaning softly when his fingertips reach the slick, messy folds of your sex.

"We shouldn't do this..." You protest feebly but that only makes him laugh.

"You're right. We shouldn't. So tell me why you're grinding yourself against my fingers like you're in heat." It's humiliating but he's got a point. "If he's not taking care of you, I'll have to remind you how sex is supposed to feel." Two of his thick, long fingers glide into your eager body and you feel him hook them inside you exactly how you always loved.

"You don't know how many times I've stroked my cock and tried to remember exactly what this little cunt feels like. I’ve tried to remember the way you squeeze me when you're cumming. Nothing feels like you do. Your body is a fucking luxury." He's losing his self control far faster than he wants to.

"Get on your hands and knees." It's an order you only start to respond to when he slips his fingers out of you and you reposition yourself in front of him. He tugs his zipper down, freeing himself from his underwear, giving his cock a few firm strokes before lining it up with your entrance.

"Oh sweetheart, it's been a while." He groans, pressing just the tip into you at first.

"Feels so fucking good." You babble, pressing yourself back on him, encouraging him to inch into your body. You haven't felt this blissed out in months and he's only getting started. You knew this wouldn't last. There was no way you'd be able to turn down the one man who truly knows your body. He understands your needs in a way no one else has ever even tried to. Maybe it's the age difference or the extra experience he's got but this man really understands your pleasure.

"Fuck, it does, doesn't it?" He laughs, pressing the rest of the way into you and giving you a couple of sharp, half thrusts.

It's not long before he's established a good rhythm, his cock slipping in and out of you while he reaches around you to rub your clit. You feel him kissing the back of your neck, groaning against your skin that he missed your body, up until a faint buzzing sound makes him pause.

At first you'd thought your vibrator switched back on but then you notice your phone screen illuminated on the sheets beside you and your boyfriend's face filling the screen.

"Answer it." Bucky demands, resuming his thrusts at the same pace as before. "I want you to answer it. Tell him what we're doing. Or hide it from him. It's up to you."

#asks answered <3 #sergeantbarnessdoll #becca writes spice #stepdad!bucky #bucky Barnes smut #stepdad Bucky smut #tw: stepcest #I got carried away with this #I'm going into work tomorrow fully intending to be a nightmare #and I'm so excited about it #my self confidence rn can't be matched #I've been getting back into weight training #and I've started to notice a difference #and my skin is looking really nice too rn #It's just me and my water bottle and my hopes and dreams against the world

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munsonsmixtapes · 5 months ago

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Hi! Can I request a Tyler Owens fic based off of shut up and drive by Rihanna! I know it’s not a lot to work with so feel free to do whatever ☺️

I love writing songs fics!

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

The house was super packed when you entered it, the amount of people and loud music overwhelming your senses. If you were being honest, you didn't even want to be there, but only gave in when your friends had begged you to. They pulled you into the kitchen where all of the drinks were and you gladly followed, wanting nothing more than to get a few drinks into your system to calm you down.

Kyra poured you a glass of white wine and you gratefully accepted it, downing it quicker than you should have. You held out your cup for more and she eyed you suspiciously as she poured more of the beverage into your cup. You thanked her and turned on your heel, looking for a place to sit.

As you got to the entrance of the kitchen, you ran into a hard chest, hearing a chuckle rumble from it. You looked up into the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen, feeling yourself wanting to fall into the mossy color.

His hands moved to your waist to steady you and you could practically feel their warmth through your top that his gaze had moved to. It complimented your skin perfectly and hugged you in all of the right places, almost as if it was made specifically for you.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he shook his head. "Not from around here, are you? I think I would have recognized a pretty little thing like you.”

“And I think that’s a line. Gonna have to try a little harder to get my attention, cowboy.” You tried to push past him, but he blocked your path.

“How about a dance?” He asked as he rested his arm on the door frame. “Or maybe a drink?”

“No thanks,” you shook your head. “I already have a drink and I don’t dance.”

Tyler removed his arm from door frame and let you past, not able to help himself from looking at your ass as you moved into the living room. He wanted to know what it felt like, letting his mind drift off to a hot fantasy of the two of you.

He could just see himself sticking his hands into the back pockets of your jeans as he gave your ass a squeeze, swallowing your gasp with his lips. He wanted to know what they tasted like, your lip gloss giving them a pretty sheen.

Most women tried to play hard to get and he was always turned on by that. He didn’t just love to chase tornadoes, women were also very fun to run after. He followed you into the living room, feeling hypnotized by you. It was as if his feet had a mind of their own, carrying him through all of the bodies. He felt like a sailor being lured to his death by a siren. And that seemed like a damn good way to die.

He could see you still as you got further ahead of him, trying not to lose track of you. There was no way that he was letting you get away from him. Not that easily. He was going to take no for an answer, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t at least be near you.

You got to the center of the makeshift dance floor and the second your eyes locked on Tyler’s, he knew that he was a goner. Your eyes were locked on him as you began to dance much more sensually than you were used to. You didn’t know why you were wanting to show him what he couldn’t have.

He slowly weaved his way through the people keeping him from you and stood in front of you, resisting the urge to stand behind you as your bodies moved in tandem.

“Like what you see, cowboy?” You asked, a flirty look forming in your eyes. You had him exactly where you wanted him and you didn’t even have to do much. You thought it would have taken a bit more to reel him, but he had already grabbed onto the hook.

“Oh, I love what I see.” You grabbed hold of his hands and set them on your waist. You then turned around and pressed your ass to his crotch, grinding against it. His grip on your waist tightened, and you could have sworn that you could hear him moan.

"Just dancing," you said, looking over your shoulder. Tyler just nodded, moving his hands to your shoulders, turning you around to face him as a slower tempo song began to play.

"Then let's dance," he replied, his hands moving higher up your back. "You know, I never got your name."

"I don't know why you'd need that." You were perfectly fine with not sharing names. It added a bit of mystery to your interaction.

"Because I'd love to know the name of the prettiest girl in the room." That had to be the worst pick up line you had ever heard. You figured that he didn't have to try as hard because of his looks, but you really hoped that he didn't actually use that one on a regular basis.

"Gross, does that actually work for you?" You pulled away from him a bit, eyeing him suspiciously. If you were being honest, the whole cowboy thing was working for you even if you wouldn't admit it. Maybe he actually was charming or you just hadn't slept with anyone in so long that you were just desperate to get laid.

"Every time," he winked and all you could do was grimace.

"Tell me yours first."

"It's Tyler." Tyler. The name suited him.

"Y/n."

"Y/n," he repeated with a smile and you swore that your knees were going to give out between the mixture of his pretty mouth and the way your name fell off his lips. You could just imagine what he sounded like moaning your name and now you were getting a little too wet for your liking between your legs. "I like that."

"I like yours too."

"You're actually paying me a compliment?" He feigned shock with a dramatic gasp. "Well, I never thought I'd see the day."

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed onto his belt loops and pulled him closer, Tyler letting out a yelp as you did so. You were suddenly finding him irresistible, your eyes shifting to his lips that he was running his tongue over, making you want him even more.

"Woah, darlin'," he chuckled. "Can't resist me, can you?"

"You got me. So are we going to do this or what?"

"Only if you want to. I don't want to force you into something that would make you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I was just playing hard to get."

"You didn't have to do that," he said, inching his face closer to yours. "I've had my eyes on you all night."

"Well, now you're chance to have me. Don't blow it," you responded, closing the gap between the two of you, capturing his bottom lip between his two. You were close to moaning at the feeling, not having kissed anyone in far too long for your liking.

Your arms wrapped around waist as his went to your shoulder, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss you from another angle. Suddenly, you were the only ones there, so wrapped up in each other that it felt like everyone else had disappeared.

Just as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, you pulled away, noticing nothing else but his pretty green eyes, his pupils that had blown wide. You said nothing and removed your hands from his waist, offering him one of them that he took with no question. You led him through the crowd, making a beeline for the stairs.

You weren’t looking at him, but he was trying to fight the smile on his face. He had barely done anything and now he was about to sleep with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Maybe someone up there actually liked him. Just when he was about to go home, you showed up, a bright spotlight shining down on you. He was drawn to you immediately and the fact that you didn’t seem interested at first only made him want you more.

You got up the stairs, on the hunt for an available room and found one, pulling Tyler into it. You let the door slam closed behind you before you pressed your lips to his again, this time more hungrily. He was quick to respond, matching your eagerness by dipping his tongue into your mouth.

“I’ve been looking for someone who’s qualified. Do you think you are?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“Good,” you responded then placed your lips on his once again.

You tasted so good that there was no way he could kiss anyone else. He could have just made out with you for the rest of the night and been satisfied. Your lips were soft and they tasted like a mixture of whatever flavor your lipgloss was and the white wine you had been sipping on. It was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of you, already wanting more like the greedy man he was.

Your hands moved to his shirt and you began to unbutton his shirt as Tyler’s hand traveled south to your jeans. He got them undone in record speed and dipped his hand down into your panties, on the hunt for your pussy. He found it as soon as you got his shirt unbuttoned and his fingers found their way into your cunt, causing the most delicious moan to fall from your lips.

“Already wet for me, hm?” He asked as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his movements slow because he wanted you to beg for him.

“And you’re already hard,” you replied, your eyes moving to his cock that was already tenting in his jeans. His movements suddenly got a little faster and you moaned again, turning your back to him, pressing it to his chest so he had more access to you.

Your head leaned against his shoulder and Tyler turned to get a good view of your face, wondering what you would look like when he got inside you if you were already coming this undone just from his fingers. He just knew you’d look hot when you moaned and he was so right. In fact, you were even more hot than he had been imagining. Seeing your eyes shut tight and your mouth wide open as more moans fell from them was making him even harder.

“Oh,” you moaned. “So good.”

“Yeah? You like that?” He asked as he pumped even harder and faster, curving them, hitting just the right spot to make you scream.

“Tyler, oh my god.” He pulled his fingers out and waited for you to come down from your orgasm before them to your mouth. You opened up and he stuck them inside, feeling his cock strain against his jeans as your lips wrapped around them, licking and sucking, making the most filthy sounds.

He whimpered while he watched you, suddenly needing a taste for himself. And you seemed to think the same since you had removed his fingers from your mouth and were working on pulling off your jeans.

Once they were in a crumpled pile on the floor, you laid down on the bed, spreading your legs wide so Tyler could see just how wet your panties were. He got down onto his knees and slowly inched his hands towards your underwear.

“Just do it,” you commanded. “Please.” He did as you asked and pulled down on the waistband, pulling them completely off to reveal your soaking wet cunt. Tyler could feel drool pooling in his mouth as he looked down at it, desperate for a taste.

He took each of your legs and draped them over his shoulders before diving in, not even bothering to warm you up since you both seemed so desperate. He then slowly inched his face closer to your cunt, giving you opportunity to back out if you wanted to. He then slowly pressed his face into it. You let out a gasp when his nose brushed it and your fingers wound into his hair as he mouthed your clit, sucking on the spot and feeling his dick getting hard as a whimper fell from your lips. He licked and sucked on the spot, taking his time, fully intending to give you the best head of your life. A moan escaped from your throat and you both paused, Buck pulling away to grin at you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he urged. “Just like that. You’re doing great.” He dove back in for more, wanting to taste more of you, but to also hear more of your delectable sounds. His mouth was back on your clit in a flash, licking and sucking some more, trying to not smile to himself as you continued to moan. He had you right where he wanted you and he had barely even done anything yet. He couldn’t wait to see how you would react once he was actually inside you.

He moved lower, tonguing your slit, licking back and forth between the seam before going in with his lips, giving it a hard suck as his hands moved up to your thighs, spreading your legs wider to have more access to you. He then lightly grazed your cunt with his teeth and his ears perked up at your loud moan as your thighs pressed against his head as your ankles locked together at the back of his neck.

Tyler continued his movements, loving how hard you were pulling onto his hair, knowing that you were enjoying it just as much as he was. You tasted so good and he loved how quickly he was able to make you come undone. He bet you looked so hot, so beautiful as the noises came from your mouth, wondering what you looked like when you orgasmed. He bet you looked so good with your mouth wide open, sweaty all over, your labored breathing. He couldn’t wait to see it.

He shoved his tongue inside you and couldn’t help but notice how tight you were, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. He didn’t want to embarrass you and certainly didn’t feel like it mattered. He knew you hadn’t been intimate in a while and fully intended on making you feel so good, so special.

He swirled his tongue around and was convinced that you were going to pull his hair out with how hard you were yanking it, but he hardly cared. You were reacting exactly how he wanted you to. His tongue hit just the right spot and your back arched in pleasure as a scream ripped through you.

“Tyler, oh my god,” you screamed as you reached your orgasm, stars forming in your eyes, your vision going hazy. This was exactly what you had been expecting with your other partners. It was all you wanted and apparently it had been very simple since it hadn’t taken Tyler long to get you there.

He slowly removed his face from your cunt then took off his shirt then moved to his jeans, taking his time to let you come down from your orgasm. You sat up, wanting to get a glimpse of his rock hard cock and it did not disappoint. It was probably the biggest one you had ever seen and you were wondering how it was even going to fit inside you.

Once you were ready, he lowered himself down onto you, pressing his lip to yours in a slow, sloven kiss, wanting to savor the taste of you. He then pulled away to remove your shirt, tossing it behind him before peppering your chest in kisses. Once he was done, he moved his hands behind you and unclasped your bra before slowly removing the straps from your shoulders to reveal your tits.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied. “And as much as I love your compliments, I really need you inside me.” You knew you sounded needy, but considering the fact that you hadn’t slept with anyone in months, you really needed this and time was ticking.

“Yes ma’am,” he pretended to tip the brim of a hat towards you then climbed off of you, pulling a condom out of his wallet and rolling it onto his cock as quickly as possible. He then lined himself up with you before slowly inserting himself inside of you, both of you moaning at the sensation. Tyler then began to thrust in and out slowly, trying to figure out what you liked.

“Faster,” you commanded. “If I don’t get there soon, I think I might explode.” Your voice was so whiny and full of need that Tyler was going to get you there as soon as possible, wondering how long you had been feeling that way and why you hadn’t told him sooner.

His thrusts got so hard and fast that now he was fully pounding into you, trying his best to fit all of himself inside you and you seemed to enjoy it. Your moans got much more enthusiastic and he could see that you really weren’t lying. You always looked fucked out and he had barely even done anything to you.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Look at you taking me so well. Doing so good darlin’.” He continued to pump in and out at his rapid rate and could see your back arching, a scream falling from your lips. Tyler was convinced that this was the hottest you’d ever looked (even though he had only met you that night) with your hair all a mess and the sweat dripping down your body. You were an absolute dream and this was definitely what he was going to think about every night before going to bed.

He reached his own orgasm not long after then collapsed onto the bed next to you. Your chests were rising and falling because of your heavy breaths. Tyler then rolled off the bed and gathered the clothes from the floor, handing you yours which you put on. You really thought he would have wanted to go for another round. You were definitely down. Maybe he was just a one and done kind of guy.

You watched him button up his shirt as you sat there with yours in your hands, trying to prolong your time with him. You didn’t want to leave just yet. He sent you a wink and finished up his shirt before coming over to you. He dropped to his knees in front of you and took your shirt before putting it over your head and helping you put your arms through the sleeves.

“How about we go to my place?” He asked and you nodded enthusiastically. You got your jeans on and Tyler helped you to your feet, the both of you making a beeline to the stairs. You couldn’t believe that you thought he was going to ditch you. He had clearly shown you that he wasn’t like the others and he was fully intending on showing you just how much he wanted you once you got to his place. He was planning on having you between the sheets until the early morning, fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He was going to make you feel like an absolute queen.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x fem!reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x you #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fluff #twisters

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kjupchurch-xx · 5 months ago

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Conflicting Feelings Part 5

I felt his lips make their way to my neck as he softly nibbled, saying softly in my ear, "Do you know how long I've dreamed of having you in my arms, love?" as he held me tightly. I let my eyes close, taking the moment in.

I let out a small moan, "Do you know how long I've dreamed of being in your arms? Being held by you and feeling the world around us fade away..." I sighed as he held me from behind, caressing my curves as he continued kissing my neck and my shoulder.

I grabbed his hands, pulling them up to my breasts, making him cup them. "Do you remember that time in England when I walked in on you changing shirts?" He asked randomly with a chuckle.

I giggled, "Yes. I was mortified." I confessed, turning to look at him. "Why?" I asked, furrowing my brows with a smirk on my lips.

He got a tad embarrassed and laughed, "I never thought I'd tell you this story. But do you know how many times I wanked off to the memory?"

My eyes widened and I gasped, dying of laughter, "I swear I'm not trying to ruin the mood. You putting my hands on your boobs just made me think of it." He said reassuringly, trying to contain his laughter.

I covered my face as it grew redder, "I'm seriously so done with you. Can you please just stop talking and go back to doing what you were doing?" I said chuckling, causing him to giggle as he went back to kissing my neck as I turned my back towards him.

I could feel his smile against my skin, "I'm so in love with you." He said, barely above a whisper as I felt his erection poking me in the back.

I bit my bottom lip nervously, "Really?" I asked, as I felt him cup my breasts, squeezing them as he grabbed the side of my face, turning my head to kiss me.

"It's driven me mad for nearly two years not being able to show you." He said with a sigh, looking into my eyes.

A small smile appeared on my lips, "Now you can."

He smiled as he removed his hands from my breasts, placing them on either side of my face, pulling me into the most intense, passionate kiss I've ever experienced. I pushed my hips into his, grinding against him as my hands explored his shirtless torso. This was the moment I'd spent years knowing would only ever happen in my deepest, darkest fantasies and man, was he a phenomenal kisser.

I heard him moan slightly as I sucked on his bottom lip continuing to grind my hips into his. I could feel him growing the harder I began to grind as both of our moans filled the air. He slowly climbed on top of me and began removing my tank top and pajama shorts, looking into my eyes with nothing but love. He kissed me softly as he started unclasping my bra, removing it along with my panties. I tugged at his Calvin Klein's, causing him to chuckle softly as he removed them, freeing his erection.

My eyes widened at the size of it. He noticed and began laughing, "It's been awhile since I've gotten that reaction." He said shaking his head at my reaction.

I smiled, "I'm a bit scared of you right now." I chuckled.

He climbed on top of me, holding his weight with his elbows, "Don't be, love. I would never hurt you." He said, kissing my forehead. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

I nervously bit my bottom lip, looking deeply into his hazel eyes, "I want to."

He positioned himself at my entrance and slowly entered me, the size causing me to silently wince. He quickly stopped moving, "Are you okay, baby?" He asked softly.

I took a deep breath, nodding, "I'm okay."

"Keep going?" He asked, almost hesitating by my reaction.

I nodded, and felt him start moving again, pushing himself deeper as he brought his lips to mine to distract me from adjusting to his size. He held my chin, continuing to kiss me as he did gentle slow strokes. As my body finally adjusted, I wrapped my arms around his neck, moaning into the kiss.

"Faster." I said against his lips, wrapping my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper into me. He moaned loudly as he forced himself deeper and began moving at a quicker speed, practically pounding into me, causing me to cry out in pleasure as my hands tugged at his black hair. "Harder." I moaned out, feeling him begin literally fucking the shit out of me.

I placed my hands on his chest, pushing him off of me, as I moved onto my side, positioning one leg over his shoulder. He entered me, roughly thrusting as he held my leg over his shoulder and began kissing my leg as he moaned my name. I could feel him throbbing inside me as I felt my orgasm approaching as he placed his other hand on my hip and thrusted as hard as he could. I could feel his sweat dripping off of his body, landing on my own as he looked down, watching himself go in and out of me.

"Fuck Baby, I'm gonna cum." I cried out, as he continued making love to me. His thrusts became choppy as we climaxed together. He collapsed beside me, pulling me onto his chest, kissing my freshly fucked hair, holding me tightly.

"Was that better than your jerk off sessions about my boobs?" I asked cheekily.

He chuckled, "Loads. Quite literally."

I snuggled into his chest, closing my eyes falling into a peaceful slumber. He was perfect. He was everything I'd ever wanted and it was finally happening. As pissed off as I was having to drop my own plans to fly to another country to be there when his dad died, I was glad I did. Nothing beats being held by him. Nothing beats hearing him telling me he loves me and showering me in hundreds of kisses.

The next morning, I woke up to my phone buzzing, it was a text from Ava, Hugh's 18-year-old daughter.

Ava Jackman: Have you heard from dad? I can't reach him on the phone.

Me: I spoke to him last night. His phone might be dead, but he was okay when I talked to him.

I was praying Oscar didn't tell her where Hugh was and I was hoping Deb wouldn't. Ava was a sweet girl. Oscar was a sweet kid. I didn't want them being brought into the drama.

Ava Jackman: Mom told us he's with you. Os and I aren't mad. I just hadn't heard from him & got worried. As long as he's happy i'm not upset about what he does.

I smiled, laying my phone back down. His kids were raised strict. Deb was always the friendly parent, Hugh was the bad cop. But, his children loved him, respected him and were extremely mature for their age. They just wanted their father happy and of course, their mother. I looked over at Hugh, who was still sleeping and smiled, biting my bottom lip as I snuggled back into his bare chest.

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usedtobecooler · 1 year ago

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follow me down | steve harrington x reader

a/n: one tiny conversation with @loveshotzz caused a fire to be lit under my ass yesterday, thus this debauchery was written. it's good to be out of the smut slump! 2.3k words.

tw: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+ MINORS DNI, gloryhole, dubcon, blowjobs, reader has a vagina, alcohol and drug mentions, anonymous sex acts, dirty talk, pet names, rough oral sex, masturbation, no protection.

Maybe this was a terrible, awful, bad idea, but as you sit on your knees in the darkened bathroom stall, you can't shake the nervous thrum of excitement vibrating through your entire body at what's about to take place.

This wasn't what you came out with your friend to do tonight — the plan was to go to this new kink bar on Main, party together and maybe take somebody home, if you were interested enough.

The drinks went down way too easily, the bass of the sensual music flowing through you both as you danced together, grinding up against one another without a care in the world. People were staring, of course they were, two hot women in latex in the middle of a sex club? It was inevitable.

Happening upon the secret bathroom was no mistake, your girlfriend pulling you in through the door and laughing in delight as she showed you, multiple private rooms behind blood red doors, slick grey door knockers adorned on them.

"It's all legit, I promise. No creeps, the guys on the door know better than to let them in here, especially Eddie, he would never," she'd assured, "let loose, babe. Put that talented mouth of yours to good use. I'll be in the next one over."

You eye up the stall, draped in red lighting, creating an aura. Taking in your surroundings for the next who-knew how long, with wide, curious eyes.

The hole in the wall itself was quite wide, clearly meant to be there as the plaster is perfectly cut in a circle, cute multicolored sparkles frame it alongside sharpied numbers and lewd messages.

There's a little box at your side, full of various single-use items you may need or want — disinfectant wipes, gum, breath spray, condoms, lube. You giggle, pleasantly shocked by the attention to detail that the club put into it all.

It's clear that this is what these stalls are meant for, to live out the deepest of fantasies in some sort of safety.

It's almost comforting, makes you want to go ahead with it even more, as you sit patiently waiting for somebody to enter the stall on the other side. Busying yourself with using a disinfectant wipe, cleaning any part of the stall that you think you'll come into contact with.

You're so preoccupied that you don't even notice somebody else has entered the room, until you hear the stall door next to your own click shut. Jeans so tight they almost look painted on ghost past the hole in the wall, nervous hands rubbing at the material.

"What the fuck is the etiquette in here?" The guy laughs, to himself mostly, no other greeting, and it's almost endearing. The nervous lilt in his voice obvious.

"I was expecting you to come in here and just shove your dick through the hole, to be fair," you giggle, picking up your drink and taking a sip, "nice of you to talk first, though. Hi, I guess?"

"Hi," he laughs back, breathlessly. You watch as he shuffles around on the other side, nothing more than a thigh and hand in your eyeline, the side of a zipper. Tighter fitting in that area than usual.

"So, do you wanna do this?" You ask, just for confirmation, veins thrumming with nerves and something akin to excitement, "I think I know the answer already, your jeans are, uh, very fucking tight."

"Shit, yeah. You— you're sure you're okay with this, right?" The man's voice is high pitched, whiny and a bit desperate, the clink of his belt against the stall wall enough to shock you, "I just— I don't do this, ever. But my friend he, he gave me these pills 'n I'm just so fucking horny, and you're, well. You're here and offering, God, I wanna."

You clench your thighs together, teetering between both knees as you get comfortable, "I'm okay with it, promise. I wanna, too." You confirm, voice lilted and dripping in desire, "Can you at least tell me your name, though? Wanna know who I'm moaning for."

"Oh, shit," he grunts, shuffling a little so you can see the tips of the auburn loafers he's wearing under the frame of the stall, "I'm Steve. Fuck, dunno if I should've used my real name but, who cares, right?"

Steve.

"Okay then, Steve," you gasp breathily, squeezing your thighs together once again, relishing in the relief it gives the dull ache on your clit, "wanna drop your pants and show me what you're working with?"

You sound far too confident, so confident that you shock yourself. Your hands shake, brain foggy still from one too many tequila shots and bubblegum flavored cocktails. But, Steve's right there and unzipping his pants in your eyeline, your bleary eyes zoning in on tan, slender fingers that you suddenly wish were inside of you.

"Can you— are you okay with me telling you what to do?" Steve asks cautiously, pulling open his jeans and getting ready to drop them. You bite at your glossy lip, the way the denim hangs almost frames the thick bulge in his tight black underwear. You store the picture in your memory for later.

"I like being told what to do," you admit, soft and sweet, "sometimes my brain gets all fuzzy when I'm into it, and I need to be reminded how to act, y'know?"

Steve lets out a strangled noise, a soft chuckle echoing in the room immediately after, "I'll remind you, honey. Don't worry your pretty little head about that."

Your confirmation, the air of arousal in the small space, suddenly has Steve flipping like a switch. You watch with wide eyes as he tugs down his offending clothing covering his thighs, pushing the layers down to his knees, out of his way. His cock springs out, weighed down by its own sheer size, thick and cut.

"Christ," you mutter, your mouth watering, and you desperately grab for the drink you carelessly abandoned at your side, swigging the last of it for a bit of courage. The burning of dark alcohol settling deep and warm in your gut.

You stare unashamedly as he grips the base of his dick, strong fingers wrapping around it, somehow looking dwarfed now. Your jaw already aches and he hasn't so much as pushed the tip past your lips.

"Open wide, honey," Steve's voice drips in sex as he coos his pet name for you, domineering and strong, a very different version of the man who came into the room just minutes earlier, though you can't say it's not a pleasant change.

Your mouth hangs open, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip, putting on a show for the man who can't even see you. You shuffle a little closer, going cross eyed as the wet tip of Steve's cock slides through the hole. You tentatively flick your tongue against the weeping slit, getting a taste of him in your mouth, before wrapping your lips around the head, gently suckling on the salty skin.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ," Steve groans, sighing blissfully as you start up a steady rhythm, allowing saliva to pool on your tongue and help glide your way along his thick shaft, jaw unhinging as if on autopilot for him. The clean, musky taste and scent of him driving you fucking insane, your hands coming up to touch the wall at either side of your head as you bury in further, choking yourself on him.

You know you're sickeningly wet for it, for Steve. Your core runs hot and aches as you lick and suck every inch of his cock you can get to, whining high in the back of your throat as his salty pre slides down your throat, coating your tastebuds in him. It's almost embarrassing how much you enjoy it, losing yourself in making him feel good.

"Y'r so good at this, baby. Fuck me," Steve's forehead thumps against the stall, jolting you slightly, has your rhythm faltering momentarily, teeth grazing ever so slightly down his shaft. He groans, loud and unashamed, punches his hips forwards until you're moaning around your mouthful, vibrations shocking the prettiest sounds from his lips.

"You're rough, huh? Hands on your knees, like a good girl," Steve grunts, rocking his hips into the stall and pushing deeper into your mouth until he's hitting your gag reflex — your throat tightens automatically at the intrusion and he moans, animalistic and needy.

Your hands move on instinct, coming to rest on your thighs, just below the hem of your dress. Your fuzzy head does the work for you, relaxing your jaw and throat for the impending assault. Your panties drip with arousal, eyes rolling into the back of your head, the idea of being used like this doing unspeakable things to your body.

Strong, tan hands wrap around the top of the stall, gold rings glinting in the low mood lighting in the room. You whine, loud and unabashed when you see them grip the plaster. Mind racing at the thought of those hands all over your body.

"Bet you look so fucking good with my cock down your throat," Steve groans, tiny little grunts escaping him as he punches his hips forward in sharp thrusts, "you feel so fucking good, holy shit. Good fucking girl, taking all of me like this."

You know you look obscene — saliva running down your chin, lips raw and puffy, eyeliner and mascara smeared down your cheeks from the tears that spring from your eyes. Your throat feels wrecked, stuffed full on Steve, and you finally show yourself mercy, hand running under your dress to run over the seam of your cunt.

The slick noises of fluid soaked skin crescendo in the room, filthy and disgusting in the most delicious way, erotic and adding to the senses that get you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers slip deftly over your slick cunt, working at your clit until you're choking on a sob, body alight with how good you feel.

"You crying, baby?" Steve coos, rocking into your mouth again, tears pooling below your top lip, adding to the salty mixture in your mouth, "You're lucky the walls between us, if I saw you crying I'd only go rougher, I'd break you."

You wail, fingers slipping from your pussy as his words rattle in your ears. Your tongue flicks over every inch of him you can get between the harsh thrusts, swallowing him down and mapping out every bit.

"Can hear you fucking yourself in there," Steve comments, and you can't find it in you to even feel embarrassed, not when he's rammed so far down your throat that you're struggling to breathe and gagging, "so fucking hot, wanna watch. Wanna pull on your hair and fuck that tight little throat harder."

Your knees ache, your jaw feels like it's splitting, whole body alight with the pleasure-pain that courses through you. It's like nothing you've ever felt before.

Steve chuckles, an animalistic noise tearing from him when you suck a little harder, chasing his cock as he tries to pull out. Your core burns hotter with every passing swipe of your fingers on yourself, chasing your high so desperately that you can't find it in you to be mortified.

"You close, honey? You've gone a little stupid on my cock," he comments, tutting at you, "if this is how dumb you get on blowing me, I can't wait to see how dumb you get when I'm buried deep in your pussy."

You whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as you shudder through your orgasm, your cries muffled with Steve's cock. Your fingers work on your clit until your hips shake, slick drips of your creamy release sliding down your inner thighs.

"Perfect little slut," Steve grunts, hips beginning to stutter in their rhythm, a constant stream of steady praises spewing from his lips, "can't believe you came sucking my cock, I'm a fucking stranger. I'm gonna cum, y'r making me cum, holy fuck."

One, two uneven thrusts later, and Steve's hips shove forward for a final time, cock kicking up on your tongue as he releases inside of your slackened mouth. Your brain and gag reflex barely cooperate, some of his load sputtering out from between your lips as you struggle to swallow it all.

Steve's loud when he comes, moaning so unashamedly that it echoes in the room, and you're so sure that your friend in the next one over will hear him, maybe even the one over from that, too. It's mortifying how attractive you find it.

There's an awkward silence once all is said and done, his spent cock slipping from your lips once you're sure he's finished. The sounds of heaving breaths and clothes shuffling are almost deafening in your ears, as you sober up from what could be considered a mind melting experience.

Steve zips his jeans up on the other side, awkwardly chuckling, "Uh, thank you for the best blowjob I've ever had in my entire life, stranger."

You bark out a hoarse laugh in return, shocked by the casualness of it, though it's so endearing — and inflating for the ego, "Thanks, Steve. It was a pleasure getting to suck your dick."

Steve laughs for real that time, breathless and almost incredulous, "I don't know if this is, uh, kink etiquette or whatever but, I'm in this ridiculous black satin shirt. Hairs high enough that you can see it through the crowd, or so my friend says. Come find me out there?"

You're shocked into silence for a moment, brain running on overdrive, trying to comprehend the invitation to actually go see him, after all of that. You feel ridiculous, how could you be prudish after sucking off a stranger?

"Or not?" Steve asks, with a deflated little huff.

"No!" You awkwardly shout, cringing internally, "Uh, I absolutely would love to, Steve. I'm in a black latex dress, I have a red pentagram necklace on, it's hard to miss."

"I'll see you out there then, honey."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #my fanfic #mine #x reader

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year ago

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literally shaking, convulsing, after reading your work, oh my goodness. my favourite is your metal arm drabble, your miiiiiiind—literally blacking out as we speak, send help, immediately. now, i had a thought:

bucky with a pillow princess, but like, kind of laying her down as a pillow princess, he just wants to make her feel good, because i know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, like it’s so vital, he’s totally addicted.

i hope you’re doing well, please take care of yourself. and i hope this ask isn’t obnoxiously long; i did get carried away here. only because you’re the bestest!

I loved writing that drabble so much and I'm so happy you liked it!! I'm sorry for being gone and taking my time to answer your asks, but I do have a lot to say about this...

You felt a certain pressure to service Bucky. Not because of anything he did, he never made you feel pressured with anything. But after everything he’s been through and being so emotionally and intimately neglected, you wanted to show him the other side of it. You wanted him to lie back and go cross-eyed with pleasure. You wanted him hissing and groaning and whining for more. You just love it when his face contorts and relaxes violently as if unable to choose between pleasure and relaxation. Selfishly, you fucking love that.

But Bucky doesn’t really understand how you think pleasuring you doesn’t give him nearly as much pleasure, if not more. When he pulls at his own cock, he imagines you coming around it and squeezing his come from him, he imagines grinding into the mattress with his face buried between your thighs, he imagines his other hand knuckle deep inside of you until you drool. Bucky’s fantasy is always of your pleasure. Specifically, the pleasure induced by him.

He likes that you put up a fight, however. Bashfully slapping or shoving him away, writhing in the sheets as he positions you in a way that he knows is comfortable for you. He’ll be firm and gentle, pretending like it isn’t the easiest thing in the world to manhandle you. He likes spreading a wide hand over your belly to keep you down and then… tease.

Kissing, biting, tracing, nudging everywhere but where you need him. With knuckles and lips and fingertips and the tip of his nose. Nipping with his teeth as he watches you clench around nothing and until slick drips down between your legs. That is when you become pliant like he wants you.

Oh, he loves eating pussy, but he enjoys it so much when you just… take him.

“That’s it,” he’ll murmur and nudge his nose over your clit, making you shudder. “Just how I like it. Let me have my way with you for a little while…”

You can only whimper, knowing the only way to get what you want – what he made you want – is to take everything he gives you. Allow him to enjoy eating your pussy more than you enjoy having your pussy eaten. And then, you feel his tongue. Sliding through your slick and curling around your clit, before the small nub gets sucked between his perfect lips until the nerve endings swell with need.

Oh shit–

“Good girl,” he whispers and wraps his entire mouth around you, groaning into your folds as his arms wrap around your thighs and pull you up to his mouth further.

He once had you like this under a table at a deserted restaurant, where you tried to push his head away and fought for your life to keep some modesty about you. He enjoyed that too, but–

The low moan that leaves you on a sigh has Bucky pressing his hips into the mattress with a choked grunt. His ministrations sound so wet and filthy, it spurs him on even more. His tongue slips and his lips tingle with something like adrenaline to push you further. Your flesh dips where his fingers grip you and he groans at that, too.

He’s not sure if the heavy breaths he hears are yours or his, doesn’t know if your hands in his hair pull him closer or push him away. He chooses to believe you pull him closer– and he doubles his efforts, making you gasp with a high-pitched whine. Oh, you are heaven on his tongue…

And then, you say something that has Bucky smirk wolfishly.

“More.”

He peers up, marvelling at your heaving chest, your swollen lips and glowing skin. He makes an inquisitive noise and knows you’re fully in tune with him when you repeat yourself on the last of your oxygen.

So his finger breaches your entrance and you sigh in delight, clenching around the digit gratefully. You sink down into him and Bucky’s heart swells, his brain shutting off. He’s not going to feel sated with just one orgasm. He needs all of them. He wants you begging for more, yet unable to do so. He wants to burst with all the things he wants from you.

His eyes flick towards the clock on the nightstand and he smiles at himself. 7am. That is plenty of time. Plenty of time to make you soak the sheets, move you to the couch, eat you there while he washes the sheets, and then move you back to the bed where he will worship you until you’ve lost a day to laying in the pillows and taking him.

Your moans raise in pitch, breaths coming to you with more difficulty. He slides another finger in to add to his first, skating over that spongey spot and causing your thighs to tremble.

“Right there, huh?” he mumbles and presses soft kisses to your clit as his fingers explore inside of you. “You going to come for me? I want you on my tongue, okay? I want you to come right on my tongue so I can lick you up. Let me lick you up, baby. Let me taste your come.”

He doesn’t know where the filthy words come from, but the contortion in your face tells him you’re exactly on the same wavelength as him, and it drives him insane to know how much you love the idea of him drinking you up as you come for him.

His nose circles your clit as his tongue settles right along his fingers. “Good job, sweetheart. Come. Right now.”

#didn't proofread this at all #so it might not make sense #im delivering neither quantity nor quality #so just bear with me #i literally turned myself on with this though #like..... i need a minute #drabble #drabbles #bucky barnes smut #writing #answered #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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Heyyy I don't know if your requests are still open but I have really missed your writing, imo you are one of the best fanfic writers out there<333

Anyways if your requests are still open I desperately need a rockstar!sirius x reader smutty prompt. Maybe after a show drinking in a pub with friends or sth and not being able to hold themselves and going outside of the pub. Whatever inspires you really, I trust your writing. I've been really feeling the british alt rock, grunge vibe lately. As for the fic, no particular kink preference just no daddy kink pls.

It's okay if you don't feel like it. I hope you are doing great

hi love, thank you so much for your kind words. just for future preference, my requests are open most of the time unless i have written the contrary on my pinned post :)

i hope you like what i've written, and i'm sorry i took so long to get around it, i've had a few tough days.

also i'm the biggest hater of daddy kink.

do i wanna know?

pairing- rockstar!sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- lawd have mercy i'm bout to bust 🧎‍♂️

the slut club

cause there's this tune i found, that makes me think of you somehow an' i play it on repeat,

you're not sure how you end up here. from making eye contact with sirius black on stage, to being pushed up against the wall of an unknown alley, his tongue shoved down your throat. his lips taste like an addiction that craves for you. it's like it's chasing for you and solemnly be yours. his knee crawls between the flesh of your thighs, his lips travelling south to your neck.

'you taste so fucking good,' he hums against the hot skin of your neck. you leave a breathless moan. his hand slides under your top, the metal of his rings cold against your hot skin. your hips rut against his jeans, as you search for friction on your clit.

'i want to fuck you so badly.' he murmurs. you feel your wetness seeping through your underwear. even though he's pressed against your body, it's like he can't get close enough to you.

'please do,' you whisper, your finger curling into his silky raven locks. his fingers work on the button of your skirt, while yours work on his.

'i fucking will, i promise you.'

you free his cock, and your eyes widen at his size. it was no hushed rumor the man was walking sex, and everyone who got into the bed with him would like the way he grinds. anyone would bet he could make people scream raw all night if he wanted to.

he smirks, noticing your expression. his finger circles around your sensitive clit, and you line his cock against your wet folds.

'gonna fuck your pretty pussy so good,' he says, thrusting his hips, as you wrap your legs around his waist. you hum, brushing your lips with his,

'i wouldn't put my money on it, player,' you tease. he laughs, his finger circling your clit. he raises his eyebrow, as if questioning you. he pushes your back against the concrete, and you feel the roughness scratching your back.

your mouth slacks open once he picks up his pace. he's got the perfect rhythm, you think. your eyes widen, your toes curling against the soles of your boots when his breathe fans over your skin. you slap a palm over your mouth to prevent being caught in such a promiscuous place, your legs spread open while his cock rutted into you. he moves your palm from your mouth,

'nuh uh, i want to hear your pretty sounds,' he groans. your walls flutter around his cock, your stomach rumbling with ecstasy. it was a fantasy, like playing with fire. it was loving his touch, not his feeling.

'come on, player, i know you do better than that,' you whisper, biting on his earlobe. he looks at you, his gray eyes suddenly devoid of the playfulness but full of a darkness that consumes your lust. his pupils dilate and under the moonlight, you think it makes him look like a beast of prey. tonight, you were his prey.

'oh yeah? i'm sure.' he says, increasing his pace. his fingers dig into your waist, and when the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot, you scream. he laughs, his hand landing on your cheek. he grabs your face, his tongue rolling over your squished lips,

'like it honey?'

you're too breathless to answer his question against the force with which he rams into you. you feel your thighs shake, the coil of your orgasm bubbling inside you. fresh tears roll down your mascara stained cheeks. your walls flutter around his cock, eyes roll to the back of your head when you let go, your orgasm rippling through you with every inch of your body.

sirius bites your shoulder, fucking into you, chasing for his own release. you kiss him fervently, while he empties himself inside you, his hot seed spilling into you. your thighs shake with the intensity of your orgasm and his cum painting your guts.

a bright flashlight almost blinds you. it's followed by a click of a camera. he smiles, turning his phone to show you the picture he took. you're exhausted, with clampy mascara stuck on your eyelashes. your cheeks are stained with makeup and sweat, yet you look satisfied.

'i'll make this the cover for my next album,' he grins.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black fanart #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x oc #marauders era

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paperyowl · 9 days ago

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Switching fandoms a little. Back to my favourite chaos duo from Teen Wolf.

Sterek. Smut.

Also on ao3

+++

"No," Stiles told him firmly. "No way. Stop it."

Derek's grin widened, but he didn't move away from the motorbike. The sleek, fancy machine that Stiles had never seen before and that he was leaning against in full gear and a dark biker jacket that looked sinful on him.

Stiles felt lightheaded because of how quickly all the blood in his body was vacating in a certain direction. He cursed, but Derek only raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. There was no way he was allowed to be this fucking hot in daylight.

"Thought you might want a ride home," Derek said, like it was completely commonplace for him to show up after Stiles's seminar looking like sex on his legs and covering to drive him home.

More than one person did a double-take when they looked at him. It was certainly not only the women. And Stiles was still frozen in place.

"You're impossible," he hissed.

"I'm pretty sure that's my line," Derek told him. He reached for the second helmet, sitting idly on the back. "Come on, let's go."

There were a lot of things that Stiles wanted to say, but he knew that Derek could fucking smell the arousal on him. So, instead of speaking, he took the helmet and got on the bike.

As soon as they were through the door, Stiles almost attacked him. But Derek caught him securely and let him dive in for filthy kisses.

"Fuck me," Stiles hissed at him when he ripped away with a wet smack. He kept pushing Derek backwards, making him tumble onto the couch with a firm push. The bed was too far. There was no way Stiles could manage that.

To his credit, Derek only chuckled for a moment, eyes almost as dark as Stiles's own doubtless were because he was close to mad with want, and that needed to go somewhere else than his dick. He was dizzy with how hard he was, how good it felt to grind down on Derek with a high whine.

Derek caught him with a hand at the back of his neck, dragging him into a kiss that would have been all teeth if it had been up to Stiles. But that didn't help any, so Stiles ripped away to attack Derek's jeans.

That finally made Derek chuckle and grab Stiles's wrists. Stiles bared his teeth at him - and he could have sworn Derek's eyes flashed icy blue for a moment. He certainly gave Stiles another grin before he pushed him back to reverse their positions.

And really, Stiles didn't care if he was on top if only Derek started doing something about this. But then Derek made to shrug off the jacket, and Stiles dug his fingers hard into the leather. Because, no.

"Keep it on," he demanded, and Derek kept grinning like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Enjoying the view?"

"You're so hot, you fucker."

Derek laughed at that. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Shut up, and fuck me."

At least one thing was 100% true about Derek Hale: He kept his promises - and right now, he had promised to fulfil every biker boy fantasy that Stiles had ever had, even if he hadn't said it in as many words.

So he undressed Stiles, stopping only for a few heated kisses and burning touches. Derek attempted to slow them down exactly once, but Stiles was very insistent, and he knew what to threaten him with to get Derek to stop playing games.

Or maybe he just thought he did because when Derek was deep inside and working away at him in perfect long strokes that hit just right, he suddenly slowed down.

"I don't think I want this to be over yet," Derek told him, and Stiles was still struggling to comprehend the words, when Derek pulled out.

"Maybe I should just-" "Derek" "-play a little with you."

Stiles almost swallowed his tongue when Derek pushed back inside in one smooth stroke, only to withdraw all the way again. He whined.

"Come on," he pleaded. Derek chuckled.

"I think you can ask more nicely than that," Derek told him and promptly laughed when Stiles started cursing him in a breathless little burst. He hummed and kept doing his teasingly long and slow strokes.

"Please," Stiles asked. "You fucker, you hot, impossible, perfect asshole - please, please fuck-"

The rest of his words were lost as Derek groaned and went to town. Stiles would have cursed if he had any breath left to speak, but as it was, Stiles could only moan and sob when Derek took him apart.

The next time he had any words at all was when Derek settled between his legs, and there was no stickiness left between them. Only the sweet warmth of his boyfriend on top of him - the very best weighted blanket.

"Doing good?" Derek asked, full of amusement.

Perhaps Stiles didn't have words yet after all because Derek laughed before telling him firmly to go to sleep.

#sterek #teen wolf #ficlet #fanfic #stiles x derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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dwellordream · 6 months ago

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thoughts on HOTD, episode 5, season 2 (spoilers below)

I think the scene of Meleys being paraded through the streets was well done. It captured the sheer magnitude of a dragon's death to smallfolk who have never seen a dragon die in battle, and certainly not in battle so near to home. I like that we see some of the smallfolk hesitantly bowing reverently to the severed head, while others decry the Greens for it, and others still begin to realize that dragons are simply animals which can be butchered with enough force.

I'm glad they didn't wimp out on Aegon's burns. Probably they could have gone even gnarlier, but I have hope we will see them bring back Viserys' mask from season 1. And it shows us how quickly Criston reverts to arrogant contempt when he feels threatened- he can't even admit to Alicent how badly he fucked up, and now that she's distanced herself from him, he wants to grind her underfoot as much as he did Rhaenyra.

The Brackens openly goading Daemon- and Daemon threatening to burn them, then belatedly realizing he can't afford to for PR reasons, then trying to pawn it off on the Blackwoods- who seem fully willing to war-crime it up, so I'm glad they're not being portrayed as the Noble Heroic Victims threatened by those Evil Andal Brackens- is so Daemon-core. He is pathetic. He's always been pathetic.

Some of my friends have been theorizing that the show, in an effort to play up the Jace - Robb parallels, may actually keep Jace alive longer in an effort to build up his character. So I could totally see them having him survive the Gullet- maybe switching him and Joffrey's deaths- and having him perish after Rhaenyra has taken King's Landing, while trying to prevent the mob from descending on the Dragonpit. (I am not the first person to think of this, BTW, but I'd be excited if they did that- Joffrey is basically a nonentity.)

I'm aware a lot of Targaryen fans loathed the Daemon/Alyssa hallucination, but like, come on. Daemon projecting his Ideal Valyrian Woman fantasy onto the dead mother he never knew is a step too far? Really? it makes perfect sense for him. Daemon wants the fantasy of the 'perfect match' with a fiery, proud Targaryen woman- but in reality, he can't cope with the daily conflicts and compromises of a marriage with anyone, even the most biddable woman. He would never be content with the title of 'consort' in the long-run. Anyone who seriously thinks he and Rhaenyra would have had a long and stable marriage after she won the Iron Throne is kidding themselves. Daemon loves her, but that's not enough.

Alys' concern for the smallfolk surprised me a bit, but I'm not upset by it. It gives her more nuance than just 'evil scheming smallfolk witch' and sets her up as a foil for Mysaria, only 'counseling' Daemon with hauntings. At the same time, her hauntings are convincing Daemon that no one will respect him unless he makes a name for himself as a brutal sole ruler- one who is willing to do what Rhaenyra won't, slowly dooming him.

I don't find it OOC for Baela to refuse Driftmark- she was raised with the expectation she would someday be queen, obviously that's what she wants and desires. However, it would have been nice to see her suggest that Corlys offer Driftmark to Rhaena instead, even if we know Corlys is highly unlikely to agree with that- Rhaena has no dragon and is stereotyped as more 'soft' and 'feminine' than her twin.

I like the subplot with Hugh the Hammer. I'm glad they're not portraying him as a dimwitted thug, the way Fire & Blood does. He has valid reasons to want to secure power to protect his family and drag them out of poverty, and I hope they don't suddenly pivot to him turning evil the second he gains a dragon.

I feel like I genuinely don't have as much to say about this episode; it went by pretty fast, and it felt a bit fillery at times. That said, I still enjoyed it, and I'd give it a decent 8/10.

#hotd #word to the wise

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fallinnflower · 3 months ago

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the secret prince's cinderella

huening kai x fem!reader (fluff, royalty!au, historical fantasy!au)

wc: 6k

a/n: hi everyone! so a month or so ago i had a dream i was directing a movie that follows (generally) the plot of this fic. during the aftermath of hurricane helene i had no power or internet or cell service and ended up writing the whole thing in basically two sittings. the bigger projects i have been mentioning for years now are still in the works, including vampire!Bambam, vampire!DPR Ian, part two of dragon/river god!wonpil, etc... these are all monster-sized works that i really am just grinding slowly at amidst my day-to-day life. thanks for your patience and i hope you enjoy this extremely fluffy fic!

When you first meet Kai you think he's just a strange, sort of awkward kid. He wanders into the town square one day and finds where all the kids are kicking around a ball one of the other kids' moms made for all of you to play with, and just kind of… stands there. You can tell he wants in, and as the eldest of the group (by thirteen whole days!) you decide to let him join. Nobody questions your decision — Kai evens out the teams for boys against girls for your games.

Even if you weren't the eldest in your group, you're sure you could've pulled strings to let Kai in if you'd had to, but you probably wouldn't have had to anyways. With his ethereally good looks, the other kids were already captivated by him. It didn't matter that he was awkward, he was pretty. You knew how powerful that could be, given that your mom was the prettiest lady in town.

So, your friendship with Kai began like that. Teaching him how to properly kick a ball so that he didn't hurt his foot; showing him the berry patches that were safe to pick from on the outskirts of the farms and forests; scouring the creeks to find the perfect stones to skip. It was idyllic, sitting in the meadow in the shadow of the big, tall castle on the hill where you all pondered what might be going on so far out of your reach.

You never even imagined what it might become in the future — what fate you had started spinning as you kicked that homemade ball over to him and made the circle of kids part to make him a space.

It’s going to be a sweltering summer, your mother had told you that morning, as you carefully braided her hair. Your mother has beautiful hair, a strawberry blond that almost glows pink in the sunlight and fair skin without a blemish. How she manages to be so pretty, you’ll never know — you inherited her eyes but not much else, though you like to think you have some of her charisma, too.

Your mother had also told you to be careful, and to not be home late, planting kisses on both of your cheeks and your forehead before making her way to work. You once heard that she could've become some lord's lover in the past, but she came here with your father instead. She works as a seamstress for the palace, setting off early every morning before the sun rises to make her way up the hill. Your father works in the blacksmith's shop. You’re almost old enough to work, but, for now, do odd jobs with the other kids and help keep the little garden in your backyard alive.

Alongside Kai, of course. He had been completely clueless about plants before you showed him the garden, and then he became obsessed. You know it’s only a matter of time before he comes knocking at your door to go stare at the sprouts, wondering each day at any little change in them.

Just as you finish braiding your own hair, there comes a familiar, rhythmic knock at your door. You don't even have to look to know it's Kai, so you pull it open without a second thought.

"How are the potatoes?" he asks, cheeks flushed.

"The same as yesterday. Did you run here?"

"Of course," he replies, walking purposefully through your house and right out the back door. "I'm sure it had another sprout growing yesterday, so it probably has leaves today."

"Kai," you sigh, trailing behind him. No matter how often you tell him that plants don't grow quite that fast, he never stops being so excitable. You decide to just let him go look at them like you always do. It's kind of cute, anyways — a thought you try to push aside. Kai is your friend first and foremost, and the fact that his teenage years had only added to his incredible beauty shouldn't — wouldn’t — change that.

Also, you know next to nothing about him, really. He keeps where he lives a secret and never talks about his family outside of vague statements about their personalities. What you know about Kai is what he's willing to share, meanwhile he knows almost everything about you and your life in this village. You don’t take it personally; his friendship means too much to you for you to go breaking it by prying too much.

"It looks like the tomatoes are wilting," he laments, his voice breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Really?" You go squat beside him among the little rows and look at the leaves he's gently cradling in one hand. They still look green to you, just fine, but Kai’s brow is still creased with deep concern. You chuckle softly.

"I think they're okay, Kai," you reassure him, patting his shoulder. It strikes you just how broad his shoulders are, and you push the thought away.

"You worry about the plants like you're their overbearing mother," you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He sways, letting go of the tomato plant and using one hand to prop himself up so he doesn't fall. Something falls out of his pocket with a dull thud into the dirt, and you snatch it up before he can.

It's a rock, an almost perfectly round gray one with a little face drawn on it with charcoal from a fire. The face has been redrawn multiple times, but always the same little smile. You can't help but laugh,

"You still have this?" Kai's cheeks turn faintly pink as he reaches out to take the rock from you. You hand it back to him, although you don’t really get why he holds it so gingerly.

"It's special," he replies, a little sullen.

"It's a rock," you state. For the life of you, you can't understand why he's so sentimental over rocks and vegetables in the garden, but makes no fuss over the fancy fabric scraps or broken bits of jewelry your mom gets to bring home sometimes. You find those much more fascinating, especially the fabric, as your mother explains how much time each embroidered design takes.

"It's not just any rock," he retorts, now indignant as he cradles the rock in his palm. He holds it up to your face as though to prove a point. "We found this when you were teaching me how to skip stones!"

You blink in confusion, looking between him and the rock.

"Kai, that rock wouldn't skip even once. It's too heavy. You just liked how it looked!"

You still remember that day vividly yourself. The whole little group had gone down to the creek to practice skipping stones. Your grandmother had been very good at it before she passed away, and taught you how to do it on the days when she watched over you while your parents worked. Teaching other kids wasn't nearly as easy — Kai was the only one truly paying attention to what you said, his eyes earnestly fixed on you as you demonstrated how to find a good rock for skipping and how exactly to flick your wrist when throwing. That rock he now held was one you had picked up to demonstrate a bad skipping stone, but Kai had gone running into the water to retrieve it just after it landed.

"Look how perfect it is!" he had exclaimed, making his way back to the shore with the stone triumphantly held up in his hands. Some of the other kids had conceded his point, and even you could acknowledge that it was a surprisingly round, symmetrical rock — though hardly worth his pants getting soaking wet over.

Still, to keep it all these years and draw its face back on every time it rubbed off…

You almost say something about it being weird, but the fondness on his face as he looks at the rock reminds you of the ratty rabbit doll you repair every time she has a rip or tear. She barely looks like she did when your mom first made her from fabric scraps, but she's too sentimental for you to let fall apart. If Kai's rock is weird, then your bunny would be just the same.

"Didn't you name it?" you ask instead, a vague memory attempting to rise in your mind.

"Yeah, it's Huenin Lionel Mbappe!" he replies proudly. He starts to say something else, but the chiming of the bell at the town square interrupts him. He quickly shoves Huenin Lionel Mbappe back into his pocket and stands up, offering you a hand. You don't need it, but you take it, surprised as always at how smooth his hands are. There are some calluses, but not nearly as many as your father and some of the other working men and boys in the village. Once again you wonder what he does when he's not with you, but you don't dwell on it, pretending you don't notice that he's still holding your hand as you run to the square together to meet up with the others.

You're just glad he can't see how flustered you are as he squeezes your palm, pulling you along.

Working with the other teens in the village often entails doing small tasks the apprentices and owners of different businesses don't have time to. Running deliveries, cleaning up a mess — little jobs for meager amounts of money. Being the eldest, you're the closest to picking a trade, but you think you'll likely just be like your mom. You already know how to sew pretty well from being taught by her, and you do odd mending jobs for other villagers in a pinch. The other kids you run with have been trying to forge connections at the businesses you help, testing the waters for a potential apprenticeship.

Not Kai, though. While he seems interested in almost everything, he doesn't put himself forward as a hirable option for anyone. He also rarely takes a share of the earnings — you'd learned years earlier that he would secretly pass it all off in small bits to each of you, making different excuses each time until he had none left. You don't ask why and you don't tell him or the others you've caught on. Like your own potentially blossoming feelings, it feels like the mention of it could ruin what you and Kai have now, and you value that too much to jeopardize it.

"Y/N, your dad said a couple of us should get more water for the blacksmiths from the river," one of the boys says as you and Kai approach. You brush flyaway strands of hair away from your face, quickly slipping your hand out of Kai’s grasp before the others notice.

"Okay, I think some of the ladies in the market have errands for us too. Should we split up for now?" you ask, and everyone in the group agrees. You expect Kai to go with some of the boys who start making their way down to the river, buckets in hand, but he lingers by your side as the rest of you head towards the market square.

For some reason, Kai seems to be sticking especially close to you. He accompanies you on more of your errands, only taking on his own if someone calls him over specifically. Even then, he makes his way back to you as soon as he can, dutifully trailing behind you.

"You're like a duckling," you tell him as the two of you make your way back out onto the street. You count the coins in your palm and only shoot him a short sidelong glance when he drops his share into your pocket, trying to be stealthy.

"What do you mean?" he asks, sidling up beside you.

"The way you're trailing me," you explain, dropping the rest of your coins into your pocket where they clink against the ones he left. He cringes slightly, knowing he's been caught, but you don't say anything about it. "It's like I'm a mother duck and you're a duckling, following right behind me."

"Hm," he hums, hands clasped behind his back. "Does that also mean I'm cute like a duckling?"

He's smiling at you almost smugly, like he's expecting a compliment. Your heart flutters at the sight, and you wonder if you'll ever get used to just how handsome he is. Pushing the thought aside, you nudge him with your elbow, snorting,

"Helpless, more like." Kai laughs and knocks right back into you,

"You're right, I'm hopeless. What would I do without you?" His words catch you off guard, and you clear your throat to cover your embarrassment.

"Who taught you to talk like that?" you tease, and his grin widens.

"My dad told me I should be sweet to the girls in my life. Especially the really important ones. And the ones I really like."

Which of those am I? you wonder, but the words get stuck in your throat. You and Kai stare wordlessly at each other for a moment, and you feel as though you're getting pulled in by his sparkling eyes—

"Kai! Can you come help me with this?" You both startle at the voice of another vendor, and you poke his shoulder.

"You should go help them. I'm going to ask around for more errands." Kai nods, and you can't tell if you're imagining the disappointment in his eyes as he turns away.

The day ends the same place it started — Kai walks you back to your house to check on the garden again before you start dinner. You stay in the kitchen and tie on your apron, pulling out your paring knife so you can start peeling potatoes and carrots. While he looks to see if there's anything to be gathered, you light the fire under the large pot hanging in the fireplace and dump the bucket of well water you had brought with you in. Kai comes back through the door with a small basket tucked under his arm as you pull your chair up by the fire, settling down to start peeling.

"Can I help?" he asks. It's not an unusual request, but one you're not sure if you'll allow. Kai isn't always the best with a knife, prone to getting distracted as the two of you talk. The last thing you want is for him to slice his finger open, but you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Okay, but be careful. Can you start on the carrots?" You feel safer about him peeling carrots than potatoes, and he acquiesces, pulling another chair up beside you.

The crackling of the fire fills the room, the sound of peels hitting the bottom of the buckets barely audible. Eventually you start humming, a habit you picked up from your father, and Kai joins in on the tune. You glance at him to be sure he isn't distracted and are pleased to find him peeling the carrots successfully.

"Oh, wait, Y/N!" he exclaims a few moments later, almost making you slice off a large chunk of perfectly good potato. You look over to him as he sets his knife on his lap and picks up a carrot. He holds the tip in his left hand and raises it to about his shoulder, the bottom of the carrot pointing diagonally at his right hip, and raises his other hand.

"Doo dwang dee dwang~ Dow dow da dow-da-da-dow~"

You stare on in mute disbelief as he continues, tapping his fingers along the tip of the carrot, making a strumming motion with his other hand at its wide end. He eventually stops and beams at you, an expectant look in his eyes.

"So, what do you think? Did I sound like a lute?"

"That was a lute?" You almost feel bad for asking, but really, you wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Huh," he says, looking down at the carrot in his hand. "My mom liked my impression."

"Moms are like that," you reply. "My mom once told me I had a nice singing voice and then I embarrassed myself in front of half the village kids."

Kai seems a little puzzled by this, as though he hadn't considered his mom might just be saying that because he's her son. Regardless, he shrugs it off and picks his knife back up.

"I'll just have to practice more."

You don't say another word and just go back to peeling and humming. Kai leaves when the bell rings on the hour, and you continue cooking dinner as your parents make their way home in the twilight of the village.

You don't see Kai for the next few days — not that it worries you. Honestly, you don't know what he does or where he is most of the time, but it's fine. You go about your usual routine, until it's interrupted by an unusual tolling of the bell, the kind that signals for villagers to come to the main square for news. You set aside your sewing and rush out to meet your friends there, spotting your father on the edges of the crowd with his coworkers from the smithy. As you gather, you see some sort of palace official with the royal guard behind him preparing to speak. He unfurls his message and clears his throat loudly; the crowd instantly hushes. Your heart beats loudly in your ears, worrying over whether the news is good or bad and your mom working inside the palace.

"Hear ye, hear ye— to celebrate the joyous occasion of Prince Kai Kamal Huening's eighteenth birthday, all citizens are invited to attend a ball at the royal palace, Saturday fortnight! Be prepared to eat, drink, and be merry!"

A birthday banquet at the palace with everyone invited? you think. Then, Kai almost named his pet rock like a member of the royal family?

You wish he was there so you could get his reaction, but instead you turn to your other excited friends. All you can think of is what you could possibly wear to the palace of all places, and with only two weeks to prepare.

Not seeing Kai for a few days is normal, but not seeing him for two weeks is strange. He had shown up at your home out of breath the afternoon of the ball announcement, asking if you'd heard the news, only to run back home just as quickly after checking on the garden. Your mother had rushed home that evening with a roll of fabric in her arms, exclaiming that her coworkers knew she had a daughter around the prince's age and let her take the last of an old bolster home. It wouldn't make much, maybe sleeves or the bodice of a gown, but it was beautiful. It was leftover from some drapes in a far wing of the palace, a plush blue velvet with golden-threaded embroidery.

"You'll look splendid," your mother had said, positively beaming as she held the fabric up to your chest. You didn't bother telling her that there was next to no chance of you dancing with the prince no matter how pretty your dress was, but thought better of it. Besides, it's not like you weren't excited at the prospect of dancing — just not with some total stranger like the prince. The image of Kai smiling broadly when you said that you would be attending the ball rose to the forefront of your mind.

Pushing it aside, you and your mother had begun working on your gown. Now, with the ball only days away, you hadn't seen even a glimpse of Kai in all that time. You'd wanted to show him the fabric, but with it almost finished you want the final look to be a surprise to everyone but you and your mother. With each day you don't see him, worry weighs more heavily on your heart. Nobody in the village knows Kai better than you, so if something had happened then nobody would even know where to start looking for him. You (and your friends) tell yourself to calm down. He always turns up, so you just have to be patient.

You stare down at the potato plants in the garden forlornly, looking at how some of the leaves are beginning to turn just the slightest bit brown as autumn begins to descend. You imagine Kai's worried face and let out a sigh. You just hope he's alright, wherever he is.

On the morning of the ball, everyone in the village wakes up excited. There's no real work to be done that day, as the palace had ordered most businesses to halt operations unless absolutely necessary. Your father scrubs his hands and face (with your mother's help) until his skin doesn't have even the slightest speck of soot on it. You help your mother braid her beautiful hair into a pretty crown on her head, and she helps you into your brand new dress. Slowly, the villagers start making their way up the hill to the palace; you walk behind your parents, who walk arm-in-arm, chatting happily. You wonder how long it's been since they've been able to spend a day together like this, or seen each other all dressed up. The thought of seeing Kai in a fancy outfit makes your heart pound; he's so pretty even in the simplest work clothes, how much more attractive will he look in party attire?

You try not to dwell on it, not wanting to be even more nervous than you already are. Instead you focus on all the familiar faces around you, dressed in their absolute best and chattering excitedly. You aren't sure exactly where your friends are because you came with your parents, but you know you'll all find each other eventually. When you reach the palace gates, you're greeted by members of the royal knights and other official-looking personnel. Your mother points out the people she recognizes, whispering to you and your father who the chamberlain is, and the butler, and the marshal. You lose track of all the people as you're led into the ballroom and are astounded by its grandeur. You've never seen so many candles in one place, or so much food and wine.

"I'm going to find my friends," you announce, still half in a daze. You do try to find them but also end up wandering around the room, in awe of everything around you. Even the drapes in this room put the fabric your mom brought home to shame — is it because it's a big event, or had that fabric been for drapes in some unimportant room. You finally catch sight of a couple of your friends, but as you make your way to them you're interrupted by the sound of a bugle. The whole crowd turns their attention to the raised platform where the two large thrones sit alongside three smaller thrones that you assume are for the two princesses and the prince.

"Now announcing the arrival of the His and Her Majesties, the Sun and Moon of the kingdom!" Everyone drops into a bow or curtsy as the royal couple enters, and you glance up through your eyelashes to get a glimpse of them. You're surprised by just how stunning they appear, and how kind their smiles look. They stand in front of their thrones and look off to the side as their children’s entrances are announced,

"Princess Lea Navvab Huening!" She enters with a smile and a graceful wave, her dark brown hair pulled back neatly. She looks almost familiar, though you wonder if it's just because she's standing beside her parents.

"The Prince, Kai Kamal Huening!" The entire crowd goes even more quiet, excited to get a glimpse of the man of the hour. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him, and you have to rush to lower your head so you don't seem disrespectful.

That… that’s your Kai, isn't it? Up there on the platform? Your head is spinning, and you barely hear the announcement of the youngest royal sibling, Princess Bahiyyih Jaleh Huening. She's beautiful, too — the whole trio is stunning as they stand beside their parents, but you can scarcely think with the way your heart is racing. This whole time, your Kai was actually Prince Kai? You swear it can't be true, then look back at the royal family as the King and Queen descend for the first dance of the night and know you're right. It's him.

You barely see the first dance, but when the Prince and first Princess descend for the second dance you're hyper-focused. Once he's on the dance floor you truly can't deny it anymore.

You can't decide what to do. A part of you wants to run and hide, embarrassed and, frankly, scared that you had treated a member of the royal family like any other village child. How could you be so stupid? How could you not know? You try to slink away to the furthest edges of the crowd as Prince Kai has the third dance with the second princess, wondering if you can somehow get away without being noticed by him.

But then they announce that the ball has started in earnest. The King and Queen take their seats, as well as the princesses, and you watch Kai scan the crowd in search of a partner for his first dance with someone who isn't his sister. You step behind one of your father's coworkers, an exceedingly tall man, but you're shocked when the crowd suddenly starts parting in front of you almost immediately.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice calls, soft. You swear your heart stops in that moment. The man steps aside to reveal Kai, the light making the golden crown on his head seem like a halo.

"Can I have this dance?"

Everyone is staring at you and Kai with the same sense of disbelief that you're feeling. The same boy they'd had running errands a mere two weeks before was the prince of their kingdom, and now he was asking the girl he'd run around the village with for years to be his dance partner.

"I— um, are you sure about this?" you whisper, looking from his face to his outstretched hand and back. You know what this looks like, what this implies. After all, celebrating his birthday like this is also to remind everyone that he's an adult of marriageable age now — does he really want to imply that you're his first choice?

But Kai just continues to smile, albeit looking a little bit more confused.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

So, you take his hand.

You've never slow danced with anyone but your father at home, and even then it was just for fun; your dancing at festivals was never so regimented. Kai guides your hands to their proper placements and squeezes the one he holds, flashing you a reassuring grin.

"I've got you. Just follow my lead." It feels like your heart has leapt up into your throat, so you can only manage to nod and put your trust in him like he said.

And he guides you. You never would have guessed he was such a skilled dancer, but it's so easy to follow his lead that you're able to actually enjoy yourself more than worry about how you look. His hands are warm and his gaze is so fond, so tender, that you almost can't believe it's you he's looking at. As you fall into a comfortable rhythm, Kai leans in closer.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, his lips almost brushing against your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you don't think anyone but him notices. It only makes him smile more when you stare at him in bashful disbelief. When he said his dad told him to say sweet things, that was the King, right? That realization just sends you reeling further.

You stare at him, not sure what to say to that aside from a barely audible,

"You too." Kai blushes, his cheeks turning a rosy pink that makes him look even more angelic.

"So am I an important girl or a girl that you like?" you ask, not really meaning to say anything at all and certainly not something so embarrassing. Kai looks taken aback, his eyes widening like a deer's. Somehow his cuteness makes you feel embarrassed, but you try not to show it.

"Both?" he says. "I think it can be both. So, both." He smiles, satisfied with his answer.

"You like me?" you squeak out, and Kai cocks his head to the side.

"Yeah? I thought that was obvious. Everyone else knew."

"Everyone else knew?" you parrot in disbelief, and Kai nods.

"I guess I'm the only one they teased about it…" You can't help but laugh a little at that; none of the other neighborhood kids ever gave you much shit since you were their unofficial leader. That said, you're definitely going to have to grill them about this later.

Kai pulls you slightly closer as the song comes to an end, before you part to bow and curtsy to each other.

"Can I have the next dance, too?" he asks, looking down at you with the most doe-like eyes he can manage. You press a hand to your chest, where your heart is still pounding.

"I think I need to sit down before I have a heart attack. This was a lot to take in." You take the hand Kai offers you, though, as he escorts you over to a chair.

"I'll get you something to drink," he says, and he's gone before you can even protest that a servant could probably just bring a tray around. He's still your Kai, after all, you think, and it makes you feel relieved.

As you're sitting waiting for him you notice how many eyes are on you. None are judgmental, thankfully — most are just in awe, both that Kai is actually the Prince and you suddenly seem in line to become a part of the royal family yourself. The mere thought makes your cheeks start to burn again, and you wave your hands by your face to try and cool down.

As you're doing so, you suddenly notice the crowd parting towards you again, this time to allow the two princesses to approach. You hurriedly stand up and drop into a curtsy,

"My humblest greetings to your highnesses, the first and second princess." Your hands are shaking but you hope they don't notice as you hold your skirts up.

"Is this her?" the second princess, Bahiyyih, whispers to her sister. You glance up just as the first princess elbows her before turning to you with a smile. She takes both your hands in hers.

"What she means is, we've heard a lot about you. And Kai has gotten in a lot of trouble for sneaking out all the time, but we get it now." You swear your face gets warmer with every word she says, made worse by the effervescent grin on Bahiyyih's face as she nods along to her sister's words. Just then, Kai reappears by your side, a drink in each hand. Lea lets go of your hands, which you're grateful for because you feel like your palms are getting sweaty.

"Lea…" He whines, shifting so he's standing behind you even though you don't hide him very well. You reach for your drink, hoping that having something to hold will ease your shakiness.

"It's true!" Bahiyyih chimes in. "It took us forever to figure out where he was going, and then we realized he was going to meet a girl! It's so cute!"

"Please don't call me cute," he groans.

"But you are cute," you blurt, and immediately want the ground to swallow you whole. A glance at Kai tells you his face is bright red, burning hot just like yours, and Lea squeezes your hands tighter as she and Bahiyyih practically squeal with delight.

“So you do think I'm cute?” Kai asks, leaning around to get a look at your face. Now both he and the princesses are looking at you expectantly, and you feel like your face is on fire.

“Well, yeah,” you mumble, quickly taking a sip of your drink. The princesses are almost vibrating with excitement, and Kai’s face turns bright red but his eyes are glimmering with excitement, his smile broad. His joy is almost blinding, and your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

“I think you're cute, too, Y/N,” he says. Your knees feel weak, and you only manage to pull your gaze from his when you faintly hear the sound of Bahiyyih giggling. Lea takes hold of her little sister’s arm and smiles apologetically at you,

“We'll give you two some time alone now.” She starts tugging Bahiyyih away, but the youngest Huening sibling takes hold of your hand.

“I can't wait to get to know you better, sister-in-law!”

“Uh, y-yes, me too,” you reply, mind going blank. Sister-in-law?! In a daze, you sit back down in the chair Kai had led you to earlier, barely registering that he's sitting next to you until he sets his hand on top of yours.

“Are you okay?” You turn to him, mouth slightly agape.

“Did she call me sister-in-law?” you ask. Kai laughs bashfully and links his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, she's… excitable.” You nod, still sort of dazed, and take another sip of your drink. Staring back out into the crowd, you notice the princesses making their way back up to their parents’ side. In the distance you can see Bahiyyih leaning in to whisper something to her mother, and the queen's gaze seems to find you in the sea of people.

“Oh my god,” you say, hurriedly turning back to Kai. “Does— do your parents know about me?” He nods.

“I got caught sneaking out and told them everything,” he explains. “This ball was part my idea and part theirs, so I could introduce you to them… Or let them see you, at least.” He must have seen the total anxiety in your expression at the prospect of meeting his parents one-on-one and immediately smooths it over, squeezing your hand again.

“There's no rush,” he reassures you, and looking into his earnest eyes does actually help to calm your nerves. From this close you hardly notice the crown on his head, he just looks like the same boy you've been running around the village with for years. Just Kai.

Your Kai. Just the thought makes your heart soar.

You down the rest of your drink and stand up, Kai’s hand still in yours.

“Do you want to step outside for a bit?” you ask, and Kai nods, setting his own drink aside too before standing up. The two of you make your way onto one of the balconies off the ballroom, and the cool night breeze puts your mind at ease. You feel like you can finally breathe again, standing by Kai’s side under the familiar light of the moon. He lightly swings your joined hands between you, staring up at the stars. Eventually, he turns his full attention back to you,

“Why did you want to come outside?” You take his other hand in yours and look down at the stones paving the bottom of the balcony. His shoes are so nice, you think, and almost want to laugh. All this time you wondered why he was only around some of the time and gave his money to the other kids — meanwhile he was sneaking in and out of the palace to come meet you. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage,

“I just… thought it would be kind of embarrassing to have our first kiss in front of a crowd…” Kai squeezes your hands unintentionally, and you glance up at him, unable to meet his gaze fully. Even after saying it, you aren't sure where you got the confidence.

“So, can I?” he asks, his voice soft. “Kiss you, I mean.” You laugh, the tension breaking, and lean in.

“You really are hopeless, aren't you?” you tease, “Of course.”

You press your lips to his, the taste of wine still lingering, and you suddenly get the feeling that this is the beginning of the rest of your life. And you're going to live happily ever after.

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