#white sheer canopy bed

[venidel]

Bedroom Atlanta Image of a medium-sized transitional master bedroom with a beige floor and carpeting but no fireplace

[dhikadhikadhika]

Bedroom Atlanta Image of a medium-sized transitional master bedroom with a beige floor and carpeting but no fireplace

[thecoochiefairy]

xxx. suguru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, roleplay, non-consensual consent, rough sex/rough play, dominant suguru, black woman, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, choking, knife play, oral [f] [m], praising, size kink, overstimulation, degrading, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, doggy style, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this may not be everyone’s tea. for sure one of the hottest things i wrote in my book of eroticas. enjoy, cause i did. dedicated to my mocha, @st4rbwrry ,she asked me to do this for her once.

nasty links, ya nasty— bounce. take it like a good girl. ooh, you’re so good for me.

SCARY MOVIES WEREN’T YOUR THING. They were simply a morbid curiosity, especially in your household. Your father was an extremely Christian man, anything seemingly too creepy or Halloween affiliated was the work of the devil. A god-fearing man, yes—But nothing was more terrifying than your boyfriend. 

Suguru Getou. It was like a hushed name within the night, calling him three times like CandyMan, even a cross wouldn’t keep him away from you. You were a Christian woman as well, but not as harshly as your father. You had your own questions, moralities, beliefs. You didn’t judge anyone based on their views—you never judged him. 

Meeting him within the bookstore as you went to pick up a pink Bible, your cheeks went warm as you accidentally dropped the book in your hand on the way out—he then noticed the second one you clutched to your chest, never noticing it was a deeply egregious erotica. His tattooed hand gripped the object off of the ground, veiny and large as he handed it back to you. You were a beauty to him. 

Freckles along your cheeks, button nose and slender eyes with bohemian goddess braids, flyaways sticking to your round face. He caught sight of the golden cross that sat in between your breasts, the dark inked skull tattooed along your neck giving him whiplash. When you bent down to reach for the book, he caught back dermals just above the yoga pants you wear, long sleeve top clinging to your frame. Your voice was sweet, the blush of your cheeks delineated innocence, even if the sight of you didn’t.  You were pure to him. 

At least…he thought you were. 

You were sitting along your bed, the sheer white canopy atop of it paired with champagne lights hung all around the ceiling. Your background played SCREAM, one of your favorite horror movies that Suguru had introduced you to, as you were a little afraid to watch them by yourself—but he was busy tonight, and you figured you’d face your fears. 

Your glasses hung on the tip of your nose as you were more hyper-focused in your book, the sexual endeavors of the characters making your thighs rub together a bit, a highlighter in between your plump lips as you wanted to remember all the best parts. Your attention was pulled away as you heard rustling coming from your open window along the second floor of the house, enjoying the cool air of the night. You frown, lowering your book. You listen. 

Nothing comes in return, so you go back to your book. The rustle happens again. You narrow your eyes, standing from the bed as you go towards your window in preparation to just close it. That’s when a knock comes on your door, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You were always jumpy.

You go towards the door, tightening the robe you wear, pushing your glasses upon your nose as you open it. It’s your father. 

Giving him a warm smile, you greet, “Hi, Daddy. All packed up for your trip?”

“Yup. All packed up and ready to go, sweetie. Did you remember everything?”

A gentle yet stern tone comes from him. One you were used to hearing by now. The tall, strong yet slender man gave a soft smile before speaking once more.

“You’ all right? You seem a bit startled.”

You sigh, “Been watching scary movies again—it’s only the first ten minutes where the girl gets a weird phone call. I thought I could handle watching it alone—unfortunately, I’m a wuss. Are you heading out to the airport now?”

Your father let out a soft chuckle.The first ten minutes always got to you somehow. To his dismay, this was why you had Suguru at your side to comfort you when you needed it. But he wasn’t here tonight.

“I’m about to head out now. I was hoping I would be able to see you one more time before I get on the plane.”

“You’re such a big teddy bear,” you poke fun, “I’ll walk you to the door,” you offer, pushing on your bunny slippers as you follow behind him downstairs. You lived in a big house, taking ages to get anywhere whether it was a bedroom or bathroom.

The man rolled his eyes though he couldn’t help a soft smile, amused from the way you teased him. He loved you, all too much. 

Once you both get downstairs, you go to the front door where your father picks up his bags and checks to see if he had everything. He spoke again, a frown appearing once more.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in the house by yourself? I know you’re not always fond of being alone at night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you give him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh, “I love you, okay? Be safe.”

He wraps his strong arms around your frame, hugging you close to his form as he kisses your forehead. He loved you more than words could describe. You were his little girl, after all.

“I love you too. I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, alright?”

You give him a final wave as he makes it out to his taxi, blowing a kiss as the vehicle pulls off. You were relieved to get some alone time, and now you could fully dive into your book. You search the pantry as you grab for your sour gummy bears, plopping one into your mouth as you make your way back upstairs. You could hear the sound of screams, knowing the movie was still faintly playing on your TV. But as you enter your bedroom, you notice something. 

Your window was…closed?

You frown. You were certain that you had left the window open, but yet, it was closed. You shake your head, telling yourself that it was nothing and you’d forgotten to close it. 

You release a breath as you mutter, “Girl. Don’t be scaring yourself now.”

With that, you decide to cut off the movie, turning on some soothing music to calm your nerves. You return to your bed soon after, setting your gummy bears down beside you. You’re back to reading—but you can’t shake the raised awareness in the back of your mind.

As you continue to read, you can hear the house's landline going off downstairs. You sigh, pausing your music. You’re quickly making your way downstairs before the call hangs up, pulling the phone to your ear as you speak, “Hello?”

You expected it to be your father, telling you that he had left something behind, or maybe a friend of yours. It would’ve been normal for either. However, you were only greeted with silence for a moment.

But then, you soon hear the sound of a deep voice, an…unfamiliar tone.

“Hello, ❤︎.”

You blink at the voice knowing your name, placing your hand along the table as you speak, “Um—hi. Who is this?”

The voice was deep and alluring. But that didn’t make his familiarity any less uncomfortable. It’s a tone you’ve never heard. It sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Let’s keep that a secret for now.”

“Well if it’s a secret, then we don’t need to be talking,” you say, quickly hanging up the phone. 

You frown, wondering if you should call your father. Or Suguru. You didn’t want to worry him as he was on the way to the airport, and his flight would be soon. On top of that, your boyfriend was at work. You decide on grabbing a bottle of water, going to make your way back upstairs—

But that’s when the phone rings again.

Your breathing picks up a little. No, you shouldn’t answer it. You hope it’s a simple prank. Your mind goes back to the movie earlier. You should just ignore the call, or maybe you’re just scaring yourself over something so simple. 

You take the phone back into your hand, answering as you say, “Hello?” More impatient this time. 

Once again, the same deep voice is heard on the other line, though the tone had a hint of annoyance. You could practically feel a sinister smile through the phone.

“Why so impatient now, sweetheart?”

His tone was taunting, almost as if they were making fun of you. It was starting to get under your skin.

“Because you’re playing on my phone. Who is this?” You question again, eyes warily looking around your kitchen. You then make your way over to your front door, unlocking and relocking it for your own security.

There’s a soft, airy chuckle that comes before the voice replies, his tone still playful. Like this was some sort of game to him.

“You’re awfully stubborn, aren’t you? Do you always have this much trouble listening?”

The line goes silent for a moment, though you can still hear faint breaths. Chills run over your body again. You could feel eyes on you. Like someone was watching you at this very moment.

You grip the phone tighter in your hand. You then say, “Suguru, I know this is you. Quit fucking with me because I told you what I was watching earlier. It’s not funny.”

“It’s unfortunate for you that I’m not your boyfriend.” 

It’s like all the small hairs on your body prick up. Your heart begins to stammer in your chest, your eyes blinking. You feel like you’re in a dream.

“…What?”

The tone is no longer playful, instead becoming more…disturbing. But, there’s also a hint of amusement. Like they’re enjoying this. Enjoying you getting frightened.

“I said— I’m not your boyfriend.”

A pause, your heart beating faster. All of this felt so… wrong. Then, the voice continues—

“Though, I wish I was. You look good as fuck in that robe.”

That sentence was chilling. Your entire body went cold, and you felt frozen in your spot. You joked about watching this type of situation in the media. What you would do, how you’d never be as stupid as the character in this scenario. But here you were, unable to move, your heart pounding in your chest.

The voice on the other line chuckles again, his walk heavy as you can hear his steps. Though, he can’t help but become intrigued that he had struck such a nerve in you. You were such a…fascinating little thing. He knew you were shaking.

“Now tell me, ❤︎. Did locking your door make you feel safe?”

You didn’t know if anymore fear could strike through your veins, but you felt paralyzed.

 You try to keep yourself calm as you lie, “My boyfriends gonna be here soon. So I suggest you get the fuck off of my property before he kills you.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” 

The line goes silent again, but your heart still pounds in your chest. Where could he be at this very moment?

“My next suggestion would be that if you’re gonna lock your door…at least check if your window was actually closed.”

From your eyesight, you can see your bedroom. But you can only see the light coming from it, and your heart stops. You don’t have time to be afraid. You just needed to leave.

You slowly back your way towards your front door, continuously watching the outline of your bedroom, as if you were just waiting to see a figure pop out. As soon as your hand reaches the lock, you slowly turn it, reaching for the handle. 

The sound of your window within your room slams shut.

You yank the front door open, going to make a desperate run for the neighbors—

But that’s when a figure is already in front of the door, and as you trip back, you freeze.

A GhostFace mask appears in your sight, the person wearing it tall, broad. The dark shirt clinging to his olive complexion, tattoos scathing along his large arms, holding a chrome Bowie knife. 

Your scream pierces through the door frame as your instincts make you step back, thinking quickly as you take off back into your house.

Letting out a chuckle at your attempt to escape, he steps into the doorway, slamming the door closed as you try to run off. His footsteps were loud and heavy, like he was taking his sweet time, knowing that you were only tiring yourself further.

You eventually find yourself ducking into the next hallway, finding yourself in your father’s cigar room. You find the closet within it, rushing inside as you close the door, holding it towards yourself. Tears want to brim your eyes as your entire body vibrates from the fear, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying, hearing as his footsteps become closer.

Your breathing goes ragged and labored, your chest tightening as you try your best to muffle the sound of your hyperventilating. You then hear the footsteps get closer and closer. That’s when they stop right outside of the closet.

At this moment, you stop breathing. You close your eyes, awaiting for the next few moments. Nothing.

Instead, you hear the footsteps begin to echo away, up until you don’t hear them at all. You wait for a moment, wishing you had a phone to call someone. Anyone. But you couldn’t stay in this closet forever.

This was your opportunity to escape. You give it a couple more seconds as you gently push the door open, sliding yourself through the small opening to not cause any noise. You peek down the hallway, seeing nothing again. Yet you hear the sound of footsteps from above, meaning he was checking to see if you’d hidden yourself upstairs. 

You bolt down the hallway and back towards your front door, going to throw it open as you see that large, veiny palm raise over your head, slamming the door shut. Your scream rips from your throat, ducking under the figure, trapped as their hand clasps along your throat, thumb along your jaw.

 All you can see is that mask, your eyes wide as they lock down to the blade coming at your throat, lightly connecting to the skin of it.

He was much bigger than you, broad with a toned muscular body. He could easily have you in a death grip if he wanted. You could feel his hot breath coming from under the mask, staring down at you.

“Please don’t hurt me…” you’re desperate, unable to know what else to say at this moment.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, though he can’t help a soft laugh as he’s just realized something. And it makes him…furious. But he keeps his cool, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Leaning down, he brings his covered face so close to your ear that it makes your skin tingle. He speaks in a low tone. It’s almost a growl.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t lie…” you say, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your eyes roam back and forth, hand pressed along his stomach. It’s hard.

His frame is solid, all muscle and toned. He doesn’t buy your excuse for a second. But he continues to take you in. Your face, your body. Your scent. It’s a mixture of amber and vanilla. He could feel how you trembled in his grip, though a part of him wished he was gripping by your chin, making you look him in the eye. But he was enjoying this. The fear on your face.

“You told me your boyfriend was coming.”

Shit, you did say that. 

You can’t come up with a quick enough excuse. You say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

He has a grip on your wrist, dragging you up the stairs as you try to pull away, yet the knife in his other hand keeps you from fighting more than you wanted to. He slams the door of your bedroom, your fearful frame stepping back as you’re trapped inside with him, glancing back over to your window.

At this moment, he has you trapped alone in your bedroom with no one to help you. Yet, you could see his eyes studying you through the mask. Taking in every slight movement of your body. Every shake, every shiver. He was enjoying the sight of you being afraid. It was thrilling.

It felt stupid to plead your case. But you didn’t know what to do. Your brain runs amuck, and you can’t stop yourself as you stupidly say—

“Please don’t hurt me,” you repeat, “I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help the wicked smirk that appears across his features under the mask as he tilts his head, taking a single step closer to you. Like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his eyes remained on you was entrancing. 

“Anything?” 

He repeats, his voice deep.

You clutch the material of your robe, nodding your head in response, your heart in your throat. 

It’s like you’re trying to play detective, eyeing his tattoos, his muscular arms, trying to find a familiarity in his body. Nothing. His onyx shirt clings to him, which almost curves inwards from how fit he was. His ring clad fingers, veins traveling beneath as he clutched his weapon within his hand. A rush of…something else ran within your body. 

What was wrong with you? 

Yet, your fuzzy brain is pulled out of the clouds as you hear his low tone tell you to, “Take off your robe.” 

You blink for a moment. You then give a soft nod, beginning to untie your robe, draping it off your shoulders, dropping it down along the floor. The air in the room hits your skin, the pale pink babydoll slip you wore, your brown nipples showing through the thin fabric. The sheer material glides down to the thong you wear, barely covering your ass, the small bow within the back attached to the lingerie. 

Your body is revealed to him, his eyes gazing over your figure. Yet, he remains still. Though, you can see the rise and fall of his chest become slightly quicker. He just didn’t move, his expression almost unreadable behind the hard, white mask. Silence, all apart from the hammering of the heart that was stuck in your throat.

You can then hear him say, “On your knees. Crawl.” 

And so, you listen. Your palms lead the way, your legs slightly dragging against the carpet as you make your way over to him, slender eyes feline, coaxing. You don’t know why you have the urge to give him a show, but you pause when you’re directly in front of him, politely sitting on the balls of your feet, knees pointed to the floor. 

He towers over you, his large frame making you look so… tiny. Yet, he can’t help but become impressed at the way you had obeyed his request. His dark eyes don’t remove themselves from you for a single moment. Like he’s studying every movement you make.

He was being far gentler than what you expect. He tilts your head by the point of his knife, forcing you to look up at him as he looks down at you through that damn mask.

“You listen good as fuck, pretty.” 

Your eyes blink at him, palms itching along your lap. He then takes his other hand as he runs it through your hair, lightly, as if you were delicate to the touch. Your body tenses as he then gets a grip on your hair, clutching the braids in between his fingers, tugging your head back to fully look at him. 

And he likes it. He likes how you look right now. Your head pulled back, looking up at him. It’s like you were at his mercy. Like you were completely and utterly at his whim. Just how he wanted you.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Another slow flutter of your lashes surpass, and you part your Cupid’s bow lips, sticking your tongue out in the process. 

A sinful grin makes its way across his face, even if you can’t tell. 

He moves the knife's blade to your chin, tipping your jaw a little more up to see you better. His voice is still low as he tells you, “Wider.”

You open your mouth even more, breath hitching as you do so. Your eyes can only search the terrifying white expression, but when you glance down, his body…terrifying wasn’t the exact word you’d use. 

He’s enjoying the way you’re submitting to him. It’s like something within him had woken up. You can see the rise and fall of his chest again, his breathing having picked up slightly. Like it was arousing him. 

“All that fuckin’ mouth you had over the phone. Where’s that shit at now?” 

You lightly dig your teeth into your lip, the tone of his voice through this mask. It’s doing something to you. You’re crazy. But this entire situation is.

Your voice is soft, your own words passing through your mouth before you could think about them.  

“Put something in it, then.”

His fingers come along the side of your jaw, his thumb running over your lip, sliding against your tongue. 

“You’ want it in your mouth?”

You nod your head, eyes glimmering beneath the lights of your room. 

“Suck some fuckin’ dick, then.”

You’re already unbuckling his belt, reaching under his boxers as you pull his length from beneath the compressing fabric. It springs out as it’s already hard, pink tip glistening from the pre-cum, slapping along his belly button in freedom. 

The veins along it make it look terrifying, heavy in your palms as you lean forward, taking in the scent of rum spice and cedar wood against his smooth skin. The olive tone of his complexion is covered by ink, even in the most intimate areas. You drag your tongue along his tip, raising your eyes up, lash extensions flickering like dark butterflies.

You can hear the grunt that comes from his mouth, tugging at your hair as you fully wrap your lips along his tip, swirling your tongue around, enveloping the clean taste of his flesh. You adjust yourself along your knees, arching yourself closer to him, moving your head slowly back and forth, allowing your mouth to collect more inches each time you take him deeper. His tip begins to caress against the roof of your mouth each time you move.

The warm walls of your cheeks hollow his dick, entrapping the heaviness of it as you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your small fingers along the base of him, rotating your palm around. Pulling his tip out of your mouth you then drop spit along the veiny flesh, beginning to revolve your hand around, almond brown vision flickering back up to the mask, your other hand running under his shirt, feeling the way his muscles flex within his abdomen.

His hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you closer to him as you stroke faster. He lets out a low groan, hips bucking slightly, grinding his dick between your lips and hand. You can feel his pulse beating against your fingertips, throbbing with every pass through. He pulls your head back, smearing saliva across your jaw before shoving his tip back into your mouth, sliding all the way to the back of your throat. Your head nuzzles side to side, allowing it to shuffle even deeper, the walls of your throat flexing as you gag.

 You hear his deep voice lowly drop, ”Fuuck...”

You pull your mouth back, cheeks warm on the outside, freckled and lightly hueing a red tint as you softly ask, “Does it feel good?” Slapping his dick along your tongue, kissing the tip in an almost polite way.

“Feels good as fuck,” He grunts, grabbing your chin firmly and tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Pull your tit’s out. Go down until you’re rubbing your pussy, I know this shit’ is making you wet.”

He was right, it was. Each time his tip slammed against the back of your throat, your inner thighs became warm as you rubbed them together. You yank down the material of your babydoll slip, exposing your brown nipples, using one hand to lightly rub at the hardening skin, using the other to hold his dick in your hand, dragging your mouth back around the shaft of it. He twitches in your mouth as you start to suckle, slurping heavily, saliva spurting in between the space of your lips each time his balls slam along your jaw. He keeps a grip on your onyx hair tighter—you’re nasty with it, guiding your head up and down erotically.

You then slide your hands down your stomach and thigh, coming around to meet with the inner part of it, brushing your fingers against your clit that throbs along your thong. It almost makes you flinch.

He watches you with lust-filled eyes, the ghost mask seeming to leer as you touch yourself. He feels as you tense up, “Be a big fuckin’ girl and make yourself feel good.” 

He guides your head faster, thrusting into your mouth with increasing force. His balls begin to slap loudly against your chin, precum leaking from the tip to coat your tongue.

“Call me baby,” you protest as you find the space to pull away, immediately going back to keeping your mouth full. You almost break, your voice feeble as you talk, “Want your fingers. Wanna squirt on them…” you can’t stop whining to him, moving your head back and forth, faster to meet the mean pace he gives.

“I know you fuckin’ heard what I said. Sink your fingers in,” he grunts to you, feeling the whimper around his dick, your fingers listening as you drag them down, nudging them at your opening. You can hear how wet you are, but your own aren’t enough. You need more. 

Your other hand is still locked around him, keeping your mouth steady as he has one hand on the back of your head, the other on your jaw, pulling it open wider as he fucks your face. 

“That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Listening good as fuck.”

You become frustrated as you pull back, pouting to him, “I can’t make myself cum…” 

You spit against his tip, now focusing in as it seems to be sensitive. You protect your teeth with your lips, sucking inward as you bob your head up and down, using your throat as you muffle out hums to add to his stimulation, talented in pleasuring him. 

He groans deeply, feeling your tongue continuously swirling around the tip, sending jolts straight to his entire body. 

“Fuck,” he aggressively grunts, “Ooh, shit. Baby. Keep doing that," he growls, his hips jerking slightly as he loses control for a second, pushing deeper into your mouth. "Gonna fill that pretty ass throat up."

That’s when you become more defiant—The pressure in between your legs is almost painful. You need him. You pull yourself back, placing yourself along the bed, spreading your knees apart, arching your back as you press your stomach against the sheets. Your face is tilted backwards to watch him, taking your hands as you spread yourself apart.

“Fill up my pussy, baby,” you whine, pitiful, but you didn’t care.

His eyes darkened with lust as he saw you spread yourself open for him, your juices dripping onto the sheets below. You’re grinding your clit against the pink comforter, making it a darker shade as it becomes drenched. He stalks towards the bed, fully ripping off his clothes in haste, dragging you fully to the end of the bed as his palms locked around your ankles. 

"Shit, look at that pretty ass pussy," he mutters, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds, “You want my cum, huh? Beg for it."

His words are demanding, but there's an underlying tone of pleasure and desire. He's eager to claim you.

But you’re even more eager.

 You grip his arm, pulling him down to where his back is along the sheets, climbing atop of him. You don’t forget to lock your mouth around his tip for a moment, dropping your lips down to reach his abdomen, saliva dragging out of your mouth, dribbling along your chin as you pull back, seeing as his abs tighten, giggling as that makes him give you a harsh spank to your ass. 

Your knees are on each side of him, already wrapping your fingers around his tip, guiding it as you rub it along your clit. 

You whimper, “Wanna slide down on your dick, baby. Tell me I can…”

“Go ‘head. Drop down, slowly.” 

You do as you're told, placing your hand along his stomach as you lean forward, sinking yourself down, his tip plunging in between your tight folds. He was like a monster, attempting to rip you in half. Your eyes lightly roll, your hips spazzing at the feeling. A baby gasp parts from your mouth as he roughly spanks you again, coaxing you to keep going. You sink yourself down farther, the heaviness of your ass sticking against his abdomen, his tip already kissing your cervix, it makes your face contort in an aching pleasure, so fucking horny as you already begin bouncing on him, your pussy squelching as you whimper from the slight pain.

It was like a soreness from a workout, a burn from a meal you couldn’t wait to cool down, you whine messily as you drive yourself wild, clapping your ass down against his thighs.

His eyes follow every movement of your hips, drinking in the sight of your ass slapping against his thighs. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans of pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, fingers digging around into the soft flesh of your ass as he begins dragging you to meet your own downward motions.

"Yeah? You’ gonna keep fucking me like that? Like you needed this fuckin’ dick?”

You’re looking back as the skin of your ass shaking in his palms, sobbing already, eyes rolling back as you pout heavily, nodding your head as it falls back, whimpering out messily, “Yes, baby. Been wanting to bounce on your dick just like this…” 

You hiccup, your soft cry echoing along the walls, louder than your skin slapping against his, “So fuckin’ needy for you…”

His thumbs dig deeper into the supple cheeks of your skin, spreading them apart slightly as he watches himself disappear into you over and over.

"Pussy hungry as fuck, sucking my shit in…” He growls low in his throat, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. 

"Keep going, needy ass fuckin’ girl—fuck,” he lowly moans, head falling back against the bed, mask tilting upwards. His hands move to grip your waist, helping pull you down onto him with force, his thick shaft stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation borders on painful, but the pleasure far outweighs it, making you pathetically cry out in ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the sudden depth. He holds you there, still and deep, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness before starting to move once more. His hand is on your shoulder, slamming you back down, sounds erotically implausible. 

"You love this, don't you?" He growls, voice strained with pleasure. "Love being stuffed full of my dick,” His hands slide up your sides, fingers splaying across your ribs as he begins to piston in and out of you with relentless intensity.

He’s like a demon climbing out of hell for the first time. You keep up with him though, keeping your eyes locked on his as you groan, “Love it so fuckin’ much. Gonna’ cum in my tight pussy, baby?” You can hear the grunt he makes from that question, planting your feet along the bed as you raise your hips, dropping them down, “Hit my spot, baby. Wanna squirt all in your mouth soon.”

His grunts deepen into animalistic growls, the force of his thrusts growing harder, faster, more erratic. Sweat drips down from under his mask, tattooed muscles flexing beneath his skin. 

“Nasty ass fuckin’ mouth. I hear you, baby. ‘Gonna' drench me," he rasps, one hand moving between your bodies to rub at your clit in time with his strokes. 

His other hand grips your hip, using it as leverage to slam you down onto him, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with unrelenting precision. The wet squelching of your juices and the slap of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural sounds. He's close, you can tell, his movements becoming almost violent in their desperation.

“Fuck me from the back,” you beg, “Come fuck me, baby. That’s how I wanna cum,” you beg him, swirling your hips in circles, dragging your nails along his skin.

He flips you over onto your stomach without hesitation, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his masked gaze. One hand remains gripping your hip while the other moves around to grasp your throat, applying gentle pressure.

"You’ better be fuckin’ me back," he smacks his lips, “Keep asking for shit. Spoiled as fuck.”

With a sharp tug, he rubs his tip in between your folds, the sensitivity making you hiss a bit. But he does the opposite of what you expect, raising you up slightly to press your back against his chest, material of the mask pressed up against your face, almost to where you can feel his lips against your skin. 

You reach your hand behind yourself, holding him as he sinks himself in. You feel every inch as it goes in, sinking so deep it inflames your walls, your eyes rolling back as you gasp, “Oh, shit,” as you unexpectedly squirt, the fluid gushing out so harshly that it nearly pushes his dick out. Your thighs tremble as you shudder out in broken whines, his hand gripping tighter along your throat, hearing the arrogant chuckle in your ear.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine even as your inner walls clench around him. His grip on your throat tightens fractionally, a subtle reminder of his dominance.

"Look at you, squirting like a fuckin’ faucet.”

You shriek as he spanks you, “So fuckin’ responsive for me. Love milking this pussy, baby. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he riles you up, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside,  slamming back in, driving deep once more, making you squirt out again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, reaching behind helplessly as you try to halt his hips, feeling as he yanks your hand behind your back. You plead, “W—wait, baby. Wait. Wait. Ooh, shi—oh—fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…”

Your whine is so pretty, your body relaxing as if you’ve given up at this point, back to pouting as you can’t. Stop. Squirting. 

Tears well in your eyes, you’re crying at this point, your hips tensing, a soreness beginning to produce from your body pushing out so much energy. You’re moaning weakly as he coos behind you, “Yeah, baby. That’s good. Open up your pussy," his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've got you."

With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, grinding against your cervix. Your scream is muffled by his palm over your mouth as he holds you still, impaling you on his dick.

“Told you to fuck me back, your ass don’t fuckin’ listen,” he grunts, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a bullying pace. "Fuck, your pussy is perfect."

This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted—now you were paying for it. You’re sobbing in patterns, broken and repetitive, trapped as you can only whimper, “Please cum, baby. Cum in me. Fuckin’ fill me up, baby,” but this is your only way of escaping this depraved act.

He laughs cruelly, the sound echoing through the room as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You want my cum? Then fucking earn it, slutty ass fuckin’ girl. My slutty ass baby.” 

His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you even harder, each thrust jarring your entire body. The pressure builds in your core, your orgasm just out of reach.

With the last bit of strength you have, you apologize, “So sorry, baby. Didn’t listen. Lemme’ be your good girl,” as you begin to throw your ass back, slamming it along his abdomen, it’s nearly too slippery to have the skin stick together. You’ve coated him with your arousal, you have nothing left to give him, “Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, need your cum, pretty boy…”

At your pitiful plea, he releases your throat, gripping your hips instead as he pounds into you mercilessly. His breathing grows ragged, muscles straining as he chases his release, his helpless moans are sexy, even a light whimper slipping out— it was rare for him to have. 

"Fuckin’ hell..." he grits out between clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I’m about to bust, baby. Where you’ want it?”

“In me,” you whimper desperately, “Don’t be mean.”

The bastard. He chuckles, “Shut that shit up. I know.” 

With one final, intense thrust, his dick pulses as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep inside you. He pulls himself out to replace his dick with his fingers, rubbing chaotically in between your opening and your clit, knowing how you’d react to that. Your entire body spazzes as you shout, groaning into a scream as you gush out more cum, causing him to rip the mask off, burying his face in between your legs, lapping up the final orgasm that completely drains you. You’re crying and shaking, nearly dropping forward along the bed as he’s there to catch you. 

The familiar coconut scent of his dark hair rubs up against your cheek as he turns your face to kiss him, sloppily sinking his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“That was good, baby,” Suguru grunts, both of you breathing heavily against one another, desire and passion filling the air. 

“We need to watch scary shit more often,” he holds your throat, talking within your ear, the breathless giggle only being your response for a moment. 

“Yeah, we do.”

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[immoral-stranger]

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏. 🍓 “You’ve never done me wrong, except for that one time we don’t talk about.” – Boygenius, True Blue.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none? maybe they're a little horny? this shit is too sweet. it'll give you cavities. oh and you need to have read linger beforehand to understand the dynamic and characters in this.

A/N: my babies Lando and Bunny make a comeback. takes place like a year after the original fic. please tell me what you think ♡

Summer break for Lando usually consisted of long days on a beach somewhere warm. Yachts, beach clubs, and sand between his toes. After dusk, his summer break consisted of long nights in the VIP section at some club. House music, sweaty bodies, and alcohol. 

Getting up at 8 in the morning to take a casual jog around a suburban area in England wouldn’t have been on his agenda if you’d had asked him a year ago when he was painfully single. 

Now, there was no place he’d rather be. Now, summer was different. It was softer, simpler, an, to his complete and utter surprise, infinitely better.

Because you didn’t like Ibiza, or Saint Tropez, or even Monaco. You would compromise and say that it was fine at times, but Lando could see through you like glass. You tolerated the extravagance, but it never made you light up in the same way being at home did. Would it have been easier if you liked the country he lived in? Sure, but it wasn’t like Lando hated England. With a certain disconnect, he actually loved the place. He grew up there. His family was there. You were there. 

So, as much as his phone pinged with Instagram stories of his friends posing behind DJ booths or lounging on sunbeds, he didn’t envy them. He couldn’t complain. 

Not when he was jogging through the quiet streets of your neighbourhood, the soft morning breeze brushing against his skin, the world still drowsy with sleep.

Not when he knew what was waiting for him when he got back—what he would find as he ran up the pathway to your childhood home, up the stairs, and behind the door with a Moulin Rouge poster blu-tacked to it.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he slowed to a walk, approaching the house that had, over time, started to feel more like home than his own place. He jogged up the front steps, slipping inside, already anticipating the comfort of warm, sleepy domesticity that awaited him upstairs.

But first, a shower. He wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t crawl into bed with you, still sticky from his run. And he made tea—you liked waking up to tea.

The old wooden floors creaked as he entered your bedroom. He felt himself smiling before he could even take in the full sight of you. You were sat on the bed, a notebook in your lap as you scribbled down something, chewing on your bottom lip in concentration. He loved your bedroom. It warmed his heart over and over again to step into an atmosphere that was you and only you. A white, sheer canopy hung over your bed, twinkling even in the bright summer morning from the fairy lights tangled up in it. 

He recognised the t-shirt you were wearing as one that had once been his, but he didn’t complain. How could he? Beneath it, just visible, were underwear he’d given you as a joke—because buying you expensive lingerie was pointless when your favourite style was always cheeky boy shorts. These, in particular, were innocent enough in white cotton—except for the bold, hot pink Playboy bunny logos scattered across them. 

Lando had developed a habit of getting you things with bunnies on them, and you had developed a habit of wearing them just to humour him.

“Morning, Bun-Bun.” 

Your head lifted, eyes blinking away the haze of deep focus. You still looked newly awakened. He could see the way your mind slowly reeled itself back from wherever it had wandered as you took in the sight of him, freshly showered and shirtless in your doorway.

“Oh, you made tea?” Your voice was soft as you reached for one of the mugs he was carrying, fingers curling around the warmth. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Lando grinned, climbing onto the bed beside you. He settled against the headboard, careful not to spill his own tea as he stretched his legs out beneath the covers. “Only daily.” 

He had never been one to crave stillness before—his life had always been a constant blur, and he liked it that way. But here, in your childhood bedroom, wrapped in soft edges and familiar scents, he felt something rare; he felt safe. It was almost like make-believe, the canopy overhead and your floral seersucker bedsheets making him feel as if he’d tumbled into a fairytale, Alice in Wonderland-style. And for once, he wasn’t desperate to leave.

You looked over at him as you took a long sip of your tea. Wordlessly, he took your mug when you were done, placing it on the nightstand together with his own. Your gaze flickered down to his bare chest, lingering for half a second too long before your brows lifted. 

“You should really put a shirt on,” you remarked. 

Lando’s laughter was low and unbothered. “We’re alone in this house.” 

“What if my dad comes home? Or Matteo decides to get a ride home with one of his friends?” 

Lando exhaled through his nose, amused. You always found things to question. Even the littlest things. Or things that didn’t even make sense half the time. He was lucky he liked hearing your voice so much. If he had once believed you to be shy and reserved, he now knew the opposite. 

“Your dad is still in Manchester for work, which is fourhours away. And need I remind you that Matteo asked for us to pick him up from his sleepover at one o’clock? It’s only nine,” he explained, smiling. “Admit it, you just don’t want to see me shirtless because it’s distracting.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you tucked your legs beneath you, pulling your notebook closer. “Okay, yeah. I really need to finish this.” 

If you hadn’t been so intent on finishing what you were writing, and if Lando hadn’t revelled in the tranquillity of the morning, he would have already pinned you beneath him, taking you—devouring you—right there under the twinkling canopy. No hesitation. No shame. Just want. Just need.

But it could wait. All you had was time with each other. That was a beautiful thing in and of itself. 

Lando shifted, inching closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he peered down at your scrawled-out notes. The faint scratch of your pen against paper filled the comfortable silence. He couldn’t really see what words you were writing down, but he knew why you were writing and that it was becoming slightly urgent to finish it.

“I still can’t believe they’re making us do this,” Lando groaned after a moment. “Holding a speech at their wedding? Couldn’t they have asked Oscar’s sisters? Or Jasmine’s overly excited mother?” 

“They wanted one simple, nice, and kind speech,” you reminded him. “Oscar’s sisters would roast him into oblivion, and Jasmine’s mother would never stop crying. You know this as much as they do.” 

Lando huffed. “But still, Bunny… I’m too awkward.” 

“Which is why we’re doing it together. You’re lucky I’m such a good actor.” 

“That you are.”

Lando watched as you scribbled down another note, the glimmer of determination in your eyes something he could never get enough of. 

A simple, late summer wedding in the English countryside. Just mere weeks away, and you and Lando were toastmasters. He hadn’t even known that was a thing before Jasmine had run him over with wedding preparations. You were, of course, also her maid of honour. Lando had already seen the dress she had picked out for you, and while the wedding was an exciting thing overall, he really couldn’t wait to see you all dolled up in a gown. 

“Have you written anything yourself?” you asked him, looking up from your notebook. 

Picking up his phone, Lando scrolled through his notes, looking for the right one. “I, uhm… I wrote down a little joke about the first time he introduced me to Jasmine and how she said she would hang me by my underwear from a flagpole outside the MTC if I ever crashed into him.” 

“Sounds like her,” you laughed, leaning over to see his screen, practically falling over him in the process, making a mess of the ruffled sheets between you. “Wait, you’re writing their wedding speech in your notes app?” 

Lando didn’t understand what was so wrong about it. He would have to memorise it anyway. Or, at least, he thought so. Standing there, in front of an entire wedding reception, with a cue card of sorts would feel insincere. 

“You’re writing your part in a Hello Kitty notebook with a glitter gel pen,” he pointed out, picking up your notebook, looking at your sparkly pink handwriting. 

He found even the smallest things about you completely adorable.

“It’s still more thoughtful than using an iPhone,” you shot back, grinning.

Lando draped his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer until you were nestled against him, your head resting softly on his bare chest. He glanced down at what you'd written, a smile tugging at his lips as he read about Oscar and Jasmine's first date—one you'd helped plan. It had gone horribly wrong when Oscar got lost on public transport and showed up 40 minutes late. A 16-year-old Jasmine had called you, crying, just as Oscar arrived, catching her mid-rant, snot running from her nose. From that moment on, Oscar had been completely soft for her—and probably never showed up late again.

“I can’t believe those two are getting married. They are younger than I am,” Lando heard himself say, almost sighing at the realisation.

“Mhm, because you’re so old,” you joked, your palm hitting his chest lightly. 

The two-year age gap between you and him didn’t seem like much. But seeing how Jasmine and Oscar, who were your exact age, were already so far ahead in their relationship sparked an undeniable sense of dread in him about ageing. He felt both ancient and a little behind.

“It makes sense, though. They’ve been dating since they were, what, sixteen?”

You nodded. He felt your hair as it moved up and down against his skin. “My parents had me and got married by twenty-two. It’s not that uncommon.” 

Lando’s brow furrowed. “You think Jasmine’s pregnant?” 

“That’s not at all what I said.” 

He looked down at you, catching the sheepish smile on your face. It was probably for the best. He couldn’t handle someone younger than him having kids. Especially when those kids would probably call him uncle in the future. That felt backwards. His own nieces were enough to get the cogwheels turning in his head about that he should probably start thinking about having a family of his own. 

A moment of quiet followed, the weight of his next question pressing before he even asked it. The look on his face made it clear he had something serious to say, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the bedsheet as he gathered his thoughts.

“Do you ever think about marriage yourself?” he wondered softly. 

Your breath caught slightly at the question, eyes flickering to him as you searched for his intent. “To you? Or in general?” 

Lando huffed a small, amused laugh, but there was a nervous edge to it. “I’d hope it be with me.” 

“Sometimes,” you admitted. Your voice was vulnerable, but there was no hesitation. “I think we could make it work.” 

Lando’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that made his dimples dip into his cheeks. “I want Matteo as ring bearer,” he mused, his tone lighter now, “and we’re getting revenge on Jasmine and Oscar by making them do a long-ass speech. Maybe a choreographed dance.”

You snorted. “Mhm, and what would that speech be about?” 

“Definitely how you got a nosebleed the first time I tried to kiss you.” His grin widened as he glanced at you, eyes alight with mischief. “Or how they heard us have sex through the walls of that Italian villa.” 

Your cheeks burnt at the memory, heat crawling up your neck. “Lando!” you groaned, shoving at his arm as he burst into laughter, the sound filling the space with just as much light as the sun filtering through lace curtains.

He nudged his knee against yours beneath the sheets, his laughter softening into something more affectionate. “Maybe they’ll just roast me into oblivion, because they like you more than they like me.” 

“That’s not true,” you murmured, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I don’t think they have many bad things to say about you.”

“I’ve been an idiot so many times.” 

“Nuh-uh.” You shook your head firmly. “You’ve never done me wrong… except for that one time we don’t talk about.” 

Lando blinked, confused. “Wait, what? I don’t know what moment your talking about.” 

He was forgetful and sometimes a little ignorant. In reality, he probably thought he’d done you wrong about a million different times. But he couldn’t think of a single defining moment that you would’ve deemed as the most fragile in your relationship.

“Was it when I forgot your birthday?” he guessed. 

“You’ve never forgotten my birthday?” you said, almost like a question, as a crease formed between your brows. 

“Oh, you didn’t realise? Our weekend to New York that was totally planned and not at all because Jasmine called me the night before your birthday to ask what I had gotten you?” Lando couldn’t help but let out a little pathetic laugh. 

In his defence, no one had mentioned that it was your birthday to him. And he also hadn’t thought about asking or remembering the date. He was lucky to have had time off when it did happen. One private jet and a hotel stay later, you’d had a perfect birthday in New York City, seeing a Broadway show for the first time. 

“I didn’t know about that!” you exclaimed, a look of mock horror painted on your face. “But no matter what, I still had a lovely time there, so I would never say that was a wrongdoing from your side.” 

“I guess Jasmine is better at keeping secrets than I thought,” Lando mumbled to himself, still thinking about what you could be thinking of. “Was it when I accidentally stood Matteo up? You cried and yelled at me because of that.” 

That was the first and only time you’d yelled at him out of anger. Out of sadness or anxiety, you’d done it multiple times before. But you weren’t the angry type. So when it slipped his mind that he should’ve taken Matteo to an England football game instead of Max, you had uncharacteristically lashed out on him. It wasn’t necessarily because of the game, but because of the principle of letting down an 11-year-old little boy.

“I didn’t yell,” you corrected him. 

“No, you did.” Lando smiled gently. “I deserved it, though. You were being protective of your baby brother, and I was being a muppet for not remembering what I’d promised him.” 

“It’s still not what I had in mind,” you said, shaking your head.

“Okay, you’ve stumped me. What are you talking about?” 

You bit your lip, watching him carefully before whispering,“After Brazil last year.” His face softened at the realisation. “You were awake for like two days straight and refused to speak to anyone.” 

Lando exhaled through his nose, gaze flickering down, hands fidgeting now. He was letting you continue, although he found the words difficult to hear. 

“We never really talked that through,” you continued, meeting his gaze. “And you feeling so bad and not letting me help you made me feel like the worst girlfriend in the world.” 

His hand found yours beneath the sheets, thumb stroking over your knuckles in silent apology.

“And I’ll always understand that your job is nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll never blame you for being distant at times or closed off because of it.” You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him. “But for two days straight? Yeah, do that again and… I’ll be the one to hang you from a flagpole.”

A breath of laughter escaped him, but it was almost out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Bun-Bun.” 

“I know you are,” you murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your lips against his skin.

A beat passed before Lando cleared his throat, picking up your notebook to stare at the messy handwriting again. “What do I get if I finish this fucking speech?” 

You smirked. “Naked cuddles?” 

“Sold.” 

“Do I not get anything? I feel like I’ve written most of it anyway,” you teased, quirking a brow at him.

Lando studied you for a moment, his lips twitching. “I think your hopeless romantic ass secretly adores doing this for them.” He kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “But sure, I can give you a reward,” he added, pressing another quick kiss just below your ear.

A third kiss was placed on your neck, and a fourth on your collarbone. You felt the wetness from his lips as he started to gently suck on your delicate skin, his hand travelling under your shirt to cup your breast in his open palm. 

“Can I play with it soft?” you whispered under your breath, swallowing down a moan. 

Lando groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he momentarily stopped touching you, acting appalled.

“Anything but that, Bunny. Anything but that.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

౨ৎ [ main masterlist . taglist . other love letters ]

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress @supergraphicgirl81 @irisesinthegarden

[kortac-sweetheart]

uhmmm uhmm uhmmmm happy nikto thirst friday MDNI 18+ content

cw: (consent is fully and well established before each scene) CNC/dub-con, predator prey play/primal play, sub space, exhibitionism(ish), nikto is a masochist AND a sadist(kinda), small choking mention, slight blood kink, aftercare aficionado nikto (NOT PROOFREAD)

not intimately described in detail, reader wears a dress and is smaller than nikto but gender is ultimately ambiguous

whenever you and nikto fall into your bed together it's always sweet, soft-- reverent in the highest degree. it's not boring at all, it's enjoyable everytime, but there's always a guilty fantasy of yours that lingers afterwards. it's not like your husband is opposed to trying new things, he's made it vehemently clear that he's open to trying new things with you (within reason) at least once.

it's how you find yourself in this position now, curled into his side while a shitty werewolf horror movie plays on screen. the big hulking beast, frothing at the mouth, chasing the female lead through the dark woods. you mention it sort of off handedly,

"hmm, i wish we could do that." he doesn't reply, but you can feel his questioning gaze flickering to you.

"just. want you to chase me through the woods, and when you catch me... you have your way with me right there.." you squirm in your seat besides him, thighs clenching and nearly panting at the thought. nikto doesn't say anything in response, but he tightens his grip on you, slipping a hand into your pants and taking care of your needs right there, the movie long disregarded.

you think he's nearly forgotten about the whole thing until he brings it up a week later. breaching the topic to you over a lazy sunday afternoon, with you sitting right next to him at the dinner table.

"little one, about the thing you mentioned last week. the one where we chase you through the woods, how does today at midnight sound?"

the way he mentions it so casually makes you nearly choke on your coffee, sputtering whilst he pats you on the back. when you recover from your shock, you're quick to reply.

"i'd-- i'd like that, yeah." a pleased hum rumbles in his chest, sweeping you tighter underneath his arm as he discusses verbal and nonverbal safe words. he makes you repeat back "red light" to him, and makes you tap him on the thigh three times, smiling when you do so.

and so after the moon rises, you find yourself at the edge of the woods near your home, clad in a little white number from the back of your closet you bought a while ago. ruffles and lace fluttering softly in the wind, a large bow perfectly aligned on the center of your chest, the sheer quality of the dress makes you glow in the moonlight-- the shining aura of an angel amidst the dark backdrop of night.

nikto can't wait to ravage you.

his voice simmering as whispers in your ear "go, little one. don't let us catch you." and sends you sprinting off into the woods with an encouraging pat on your ass.

he's so kind isn't he, little one? allowing you a two minute headstart before the hunt truly begins. it has your heart racing, nerves alight and dripping in adrenaline. even after running for who knows how long there still isn't the faintest trace of your husband, although you can feel his icy gaze following you, shrouded within the trees.

the scant moonlight barely illuminates the path in front of you, and it leaves you vulnerable to your husband all but pouncing on you. he does not strike this time, merely ghosting behind you to remind you of his presence. his masked visage slips away as quickly as he first appeared, vanishing back into the inky blackness.

only moments later does he reappear again, unmasked, seizing your running body as you pass his hiding place. your body suddenly caged beneath his on the forest floor, his broad chest blocking out any trace of moonlight seeping through the canopy.

"caught you." his tone dances on the edge of teasing, almost singsong in quality-- abnormal for the situation you're in. you look ravishing like this, underneath him and panting. your face flushed from exertion and the skirt of your dress rucked up past your thighs.

he leans down and licks a stripe up from your collar bone, up the side of your neck and to your cheek, tasting your sweat.

mmm, simply delicious.

he's everywhere after that, he's all you see, all you smell, hear, feel.

your senses are all flooded with one thing only. nikto. nikto. nikto. you can't even fight back in the state you're in, the outside world melts away in the face of nikto pinning you down. folded up like a crumpled piece of paper beneath him as he reaps the rewards of a successful hunt. he's not kind in the way he's handling you, his bites walk the razor's edge, stopping before drawing blood despite how much he desires to. his hands gripping all over your body, bruises blooming along his path of conquest.

"tired, little rabbit? don't tell us you're going to pass out already hm? we haven't had our fun yet. go on. fight back, maybe you'll get away." he taunts you, whispering right into your ears, as you feel another bite blossom on your shoulder. you kick and writhe as best you can under him, scratching him, beating against his broad frame, it's a fruitless endeavor-- only serves to rile him up more. if you had managed to move even an inch away from him, his hands would fly to your hips in an iron grip, pulling you back into his gaping maw.

"what's the matter little one? are you only pretending to fight back hm? you want this don't you? want someone to see us having our way with you, is that right? dirty rabbit." he pants into your ears, the grip he has on your throat is iron, your mind and brain turning fuzzy as he lays his claim on you once more. his posession of you clearly visible everywhere, but especially dripping between your thighs.

soon after nikto is done having his fun with you, you're bundled up in his jacket and brought back home. you snuggle into it, into him and his comforting warmth, his jacket smells just like him and you slip into easy sleep.

you awake with him pressing a kiss to your forehead, carrying you to the bath as he methodically goes through your usual bathing routine, but with more care than usual. nikto make sure not to scrub too hard, as to not irritate the love bites and bruises he left on you, his darling. lathering shampoo into your hair and tenderly telling you when to close your eyes to rinse it out, once done he pulls you out and pats you dry. clothing you in his big sweater and those sweatpants you like.

once cleaned, he pulls you besides him at the dinner table, a warm meal already waiting, your favorite. eating is non negotiable. he's hand feeding it to you, heart fluttering as he watches your sleepy expression morph into ones of sleepy joy from the food. his warmth and the food in your tummy only serves to make you even more eager for bed.

he crawls into bed with you, pulling you to his chest to cuddle you close. you're out like a light as soon as your head hits his chest. it's ok darling, he'll ask you how it was when you wake up again. but for now, sleep well, little one.

[v3n1ce-bxtch]

Joe x wife reader = romantic getaway

⋆·˚ ༘ *Husband!Joe x Wife!Reader ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The gentle hum of the plane’s engine was the only sound as you leaned your head on Joe’s shoulder, watching the horizon melt into shades of pink and gold. His fingers lazily traced patterns on the back of your hand, his touch warm and familiar. It was rare to get moments like this—just the two of you, away from the noise, away from his demanding schedule, and away from the endless pull of responsibilities. This trip was something you both needed, and the excitement of what lay ahead was already bubbling in your chest.

As the plane touched down on the private island, Joe turned to you with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Ready for paradise?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, a matching smile tugging at your lips. “Lead the way, Burrow.”

The resort was straight out of a dream: white sand beaches, crystal-clear water, and your own private villa tucked away from the world. As you stepped into the villa, you couldn’t help but gasp. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the ocean, the soft sound of waves lapping at the shore creating an instant sense of calm. A king-sized bed draped in sheer white fabric sat in the center of the room, and outside on the deck, a private infinity pool sparkled under the sun.

Joe dropped your bags by the door and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Worth it?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You leaned back into him, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the peace of the moment wash over you. “More than worth it,” you whispered. “This is perfect.”

The first day was spent doing nothing but relaxing. Joe insisted on carrying you into the pool, your laughter echoing through the air as he spun you around before gently lowering you into the water. You spent hours just floating there together, the weight of the world forgotten as you talked about everything and nothing. Later, he ordered room service—a luxurious spread of fresh seafood and tropical cocktails—and the two of you ate on the deck as the sun dipped below the horizon.

That evening, Joe surprised you with a candlelit bath on the deck, the tub filled with rose petals and the soft glow of lanterns casting a romantic light over the space. He poured you a glass of wine and slid into the water beside you, pulling you close until your back was resting against his chest.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” he admitted, his voice soft as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your arm. “Just you and me. No distractions.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes. “Me too,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

His expression softened further as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and sweet, as if he had all the time in the world. And in that moment, it felt like he did.

The next day, Joe insisted on taking you on an adventure. He rented a boat, and the two of you spent the morning exploring hidden coves and snorkeling in the vibrant coral reefs. You laughed as he tried—and failed—to catch a fish with his bare hands, his competitive streak getting the better of him as he splashed around in the water. By the time you returned to the villa, your cheeks were sore from smiling, and your heart felt lighter than it had in months.

That evening, the resort had arranged a private dinner on the beach. A table for two was set up under a canopy of twinkling lights, the sound of the waves providing the perfect background music. Joe pulled out your chair for you, ever the gentleman, and the two of you shared a meal that felt like something out of a movie.

As the night went on, Joe reached across the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring. “I know things have been hectic lately,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I want you to know how much you mean to me. How grateful I am for you—for us.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you squeezed his hand. “I know, Joe. And I feel the same way. I wouldn’t trade this life with you for anything.”

He smiled then, that soft, boyish grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The night ended with the two of you dancing barefoot in the sand, the stars overhead and the world fading away until it was just you and him. As he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you realized that moments like this were what it was all about. No matter how busy life got, no matter the challenges that came your way, as long as you had each other, you had everything.

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @nami-swannn @iknowdatsrightbih @ikeepitlight @joeyfranchise @joeybsboo @funnyjb

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Bloody Painter/Helen Otis

This bad boy is LONNGG, I included a lot of his backstory in this. Writers block is beating my ass. 💔

- Twenty one!

- 6’1. When I say this dudes lanky, I mean LANKY. Slim and naturally toned, his main exercise comes from chasing or climbing stairs.

- Both of his parents are Korean, but he was raised in Pennsylvania.

- His parents struggled with getting pregnant, most ending is miscarriages. His mom was completely batshit, so when the pregnancy stuck she swore she had some divine intuition that made her believed he’d be a girl. She didn’t even bother having an ultrasound, so when he was born and she saw that he was a boy she thought him being a girl was some sort of prophecy she needed to fulfill.

- His whole life she had always told him he was meant to be a girl and he would be going against ‘God’s will’ if he didn’t follow through. He was always dressed in feminine clothing and had an extremely girly room. His mother didn’t put him in school until he was about thirteen, since she thought the kids would taint his mind and make him think he’s a boy.

- When he was put in school he got bullied RELENTLESSLY. His name, the way he dressed, everything. After meeting Tom he slowly started to realize that all the shit he grew up with wasn’t normal and his mom was psycho, so he started borrowing his clothes and changing in the school bathrooms so he could feel less weird. Once Tom admitted to planting Judy’s watch in Helen’s bag, they argued on the roof while getting slightly physical. Tom had slipped off the edge, but Helen managed to grab him. Of course, a middle schooler isn’t necessarily strong enough to hold another off a building without going down with them, so Tom let go to save Helen. Rumors spread that Helen had pushed him, but no one cared enough to investigate.

- After that school year was over he started to dress more androgynous/ masculine and ignored his mom’s pressure, which lead to her abusing him both physically and mentally. Eventually, with his ignored mental issues and the abuse he completely snapped, killing his mom and several of his bullies right before a Halloween party. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital that Slender ended up taking him from.

- VERY polite and proper. He’s pretty soft spoken and his grammar is like never flawed, big word user. 1000% the type of guy to kiss your hand as a greeting. The most he’ll do if he doesn’t like you is give you the silent treatment or a dirty look.

- Weird little detail, but his fingers and SLIM and LONG. His nails are neatly kept. He likes to pamper himself.

- He does botany in his free time! Any flower arrangements in the mansion and the gardens outside are his doing. There’s a few residents that he brings bouquets to every other week so they can have something nice. EJ, Sally, and Jane are his usual market. Also does flower pressing.

- Used to do ballet when he was about 4-7.

- Definitely the safest driver, but that makes him a pain as a get away driver. Always goes the exact speed limit and follows every possible law.

- Mainly listens to classical music. However, he does like Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, even a little bit of Queen.

- His room is SO nice and very big. Long sheer curtains, velvet & silk bedding, a grand piano, flowers, tall bookshelves, chairs, a large bed with a canopy, big windows, and lots of sculptures and framed paintings done by him. He’s really into elegant things and floral patterns. Has a mural on his ceiling!

- Hangs out with EJ, Liu, Puppeteer, and Jane. Rarely does he talk to any of the proxies or any creeps he’s not close with. Awfully reserved.

- Loves the fine arts. Painting, writing, music, sculpting, all that jazz. Occasionally does poetry! Him and Liu both like to write, so sometimes they’ll get together and talk about it. He mostly reads old classic books & poetry.

- Jane has taught him how to sew, although he doesn’t find much use for it.

- He has a white persian cat named Juliette in his room no one knows about other than his close friends. She never leaves the room, but she’s content; it has enough room to have lots of things just for her. He has a MASSIVE painting of her renaissance style by her bed. (He got her one of those fancy cat beds that look like a tiny rich person couch.) Pampers her to death.

- I know in his canon design he has that denim kinda jacket on with the pin, but in my HC he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that. Usually wears jeans and baggy button ups while he’s painting, but his day to day outfits are well put together. Rich person style in clothes — turtle necks, slacks, dress shoes, almost kind of dark academia.

- Super high standards in general, but especially when it comes to food. Fine dining for sure. Usually buys only enough ingredients for a serving just for him so he doesn’t have to leave them in the fridge. He doesn’t trust the other residents at ALL.

- This guy is ROLLING in it. He has so much loose cash from victims he can do whatever the hell he wants, big reason why his cat is living like royalty.

- Drinks at least one glass of wine a day. He has an entire rack in his room of old, fine wines. A lot of them are from Europe.

- For whatever reason, he’s an amazing masseuse.

- All of his candles and soaps are very high quality and expensive. He won’t settle for anything less.

- Can play the piano and the violin! He would kill to have a harpsichord, he might.

- He’s not big on history, but he could talk for hours about the titanic. He’s done paintings of it and has watched every possible documentary on it. Thinks the movie is a work of art.

I hope you all liked this! I love this fine man.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

[28harryssunflower]

Wedding polaroids

The day Harry married you was nothing short of perfection. Every detail, from the intimate seaside venue to the playlist he had spent weeks creating, was a testament to your love. You walked down the aisle in a dress so stunning it made his breath hitch and his heart skip several beats. Now, under a canopy of string lights and a sky bursting with stars, you were celebrating the beginning of forever with your closest family and friends.

But there was something Harry hadn’t anticipated about the reception - something entirely out of his control.

It started innocently enough. Your bridesmaids, who had been giggling amongst themselves all night, approached him just after the first dance. One of them handed him a small Polaroid with a knowing smirk. Harry looked down, curious, and nearly choked on his champagne.

The photo was of you. Not in your wedding dress or even in one of your usual chic outfits. No, this was you in black lace lingerie, sprawled across a bed, your hair tousled and a sultry smile playing on your lips. Harry’s eyes widened, and his ears flushed red. He quickly slipped the Polaroid into his suit pocket, glancing around to make sure no one else had seen it.

The bridesmaids burst out laughing as they walked away, leaving Harry stunned.

A few songs later, just as he was starting to relax, another bridesmaid appeared. This time, she handed him two Polaroids. The first showed you standing at the edge of a pool, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a sheer white shirt. The second? You were completely nude, lying on your stomach with a sheet barely covering you.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between embarrassment, amusement, and a growing sense of curiosity. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of these photos existed.

Throughout the night, the pictures kept coming. One bridesmaid even slid one under his plate during dinner. Another tucked one into his jacket. By the time dessert was served, Harry had a full collection of Polaroids tucked safely into his pocket - each more risky than the last.

By now, Harry was doing his best to maintain composure, but every time he caught your eye, all he could think about was the teasing grin on your face in those photos. You must have known about this. No, scratch that - you had to be the mastermind behind it.

Finally, he cornered you near the dance floor, his hand resting on your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Do you have any idea what your bridesmaids have been handing me all night?” His voice was low, tinged with playful frustration.

You tilted your head innocently, though the glint in your eyes gave you away. “No idea,” you said sweetly.

Harry smirked, pulling you closer. “Oh, really? So you didn’t plan for me to be ambushed with photos of you wearing… nothing?”

Your laugh was soft, melodic, and completely unapologetic. “You’re my husband now, Harry. I figured you’d appreciate a preview of the honeymoon.”

Harry groaned, burying his face in your neck as you laughed again. He loved you more than anything, but you were going to be the death of him.

Later that night, when the reception wound down and the two of you finally made your way to the bridal suite, Harry pulled the stack of Polaroids from his pocket.

“I’m keeping these,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

You grinned, tugging him toward the bed. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

[messyemmy]

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation. 

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance. 

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin. 

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant. 

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him. 

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you. 

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put. 

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding, 

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.” 

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace. 

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you. 

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets. 

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features. 

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso. 

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat. 

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake. 

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you. 

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers. 

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release. 

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck. 

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth. 

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep. 

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock. 

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface. 

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically. 

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar. 

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him. 

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you. 

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines. 

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible. 

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more. 

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state, 

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again, 

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder. 

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear, 

“Ask me nicely.” 

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him, 

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him, 

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now. 

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms. 

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction. 

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed. 

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.” 

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.” 

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast. 

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly. 

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now. 

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together. 

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another. 

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction. 

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.” 

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job. 

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking. 

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours. 

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress. 

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own. 

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back. 

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure. 

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last. 

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness. 

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.” 

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin. 

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life. 

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.” 

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.” 

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck. 

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso. 

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.” 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips. 

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat. 

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention. 

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind. 

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige. 

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

[the-fiction-witch]

Paramour

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n (Paramour) Rating - 18+ Blow jobs/ nudity/ fingering/ masterkink/ Word Count - 1799

Aegon woke feeling groggy and tired as he almost always did. Likely the wine from the night before. He woke and rubbed his eyes looking around his soft bed of green silks. The sheer gold canopy closed around his bed blocking the day from him and him from the world.

just as he began to wake more yawning slightly the curtains around his bed peak open and she revealed herself,

"Blessed Morning, My King." Y/n cooed as she slipped inside the curtains. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her skin on full display, eyes wide and willing with a seductive smile across her lips. Her whole body was covered only by a small excuse for a dress made of a thin sheer green organza and a golden chain around her neck.

Y/n was Aegon' paramour, his own personal lady of his chambers. To be toyed with and fucked to his heart's content to stop the young King from going and knocking up a bunch of street of silk whores. And as she was everyday, Y/n was ready and willing to serve.

“Ah, good morning, my little bird,” Aegon purred, running a hand through his messy white hair as he sat up in bed, the silk sheets slipping down to reveal his chest. His eyes roamed over Y/n's curves, lingering on the way her dress seemed to cling to every inch of her body. “You look particularly lovely today,” he said, his voice low and husky with desire. He beckoned her closer with a finger, his gaze never leaving hers. “Come here, my sweet. Let me see what you've brought for me this morning.”

she happily climbed into his royal bed, crawling to him on her knees, stopping at his side within his reach with her knees spread and hands behind her back

“Ah, perfect position,” Aegon whispered, his eyes burning with desire as he reached out to run a finger along the curve of Y/n's throat. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. “I've been dreaming of this moment all night,” he murmured, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. His hand trailed down to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple through the thin fabric of her dress. “You're so responsive to my touch,” he purred, his other hand moving lower, fingers dipping to caress the soft flesh of her cunt. “Tell me, Y/n... what do you want me to do to you?”

"Whatever shall bring you pleasure and joy my King" she cooed

Aegon chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned back against the pillows. “How...predictable,” he teased, his fingers still tracing gentle circles around her nipple. “But don't worry my little bird,” he whispered, his voice dripping with promise. “I'll make sure you know exactly what brings me pleasure.” With a sudden movement, he tossed off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grasped her wrists, pulling her to her feet and spinning her around to face him. “Kneel for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

"of course my King" she smiled happily kneeling on the floor and looking up at him

Aegon's eyes flashed with satisfaction as he gazed down at Y/n, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with approval. He reached out to run a hand through her tangled hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands as he pulled her head back. “Now, show me what you're really worth,” he hissed, his eyes blazing with hunger. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Suck me dry, Y/n. Make me cum.”

she began without a word moving closer and kissing his cocks head before happily wrapping her lips around his shaft and sucking hard, her eyes kept contact with his and her hands sat between her legs as she sucked

Aegon's eyes rolled back in his head as Y/n's warm mouth enveloped him, her suction sending waves of pleasure crashing through his body. “Oh, yes...yes…” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward instinctively as he lost himself in the sensation. His gaze remained fixed on Y/n's, drinking in the sight of her rapt expression, her eyes shining with excitement as she worked him over. As he grew closer to climax, Aegon's breathing quickened, his hands reaching out to grasp Y/n's hair, holding her in place as he pumped into her mouth. “Harder...harder…”

she moaned and sucked harder moving one hand up to massage his balls to aid his release while the other rubbed her clit,

Aegon's eyes snapped shut as Y/n's increased suction and expert massage sent him careening towards the edge. “Yes...yes... oh, god…” he chanted, his hips bucking wildly as he struggled to hold on to control. But it was too late, the dam had burst and he felt himself spilling into her mouth, his seed shooting down her throat in hot, pulsating jets.

As the aftershocks of his orgasm faded, Aegon's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto Y/n's once more. He watched, transfixed, as she swallowed convulsively, her throat working to accommodate the thick ropes of semen that had flooded her mouth. With a satisfied smile, he released his grip on her hair, allowing her to pull back and gasp for air. But instead of letting her go, he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, drawing her in for a rough kiss. “Marry me,” he growled, his lips crushing hers as he spoke.

she kissed back if a little surprised by his unexpected demand

Aegon's kiss deepened, his tongue probing the depths of Y/n's mouth as he held her in place. He could feel her initial hesitation giving way to desire, her lips relaxing beneath his as she surrendered to the moment. As they broke apart for air, Aegon's eyes locked onto hers, burning with intensity. “You'll marry me,” he repeated, his voice low and commanding. “You'll be my queen, by my side forever.”

"You have a queen-" she tried to explain

Aegon's face darkened, his jaw clenched in annoyance as he cut her off. “You'll do exactly as I say, Y/n,” he hissed, his breath hot against her skin.

"yes my King" she agreed knowing this was merely his pleasure talking and once he was calmed down the whole idea would be forgotten,

A triumphant smile spread across Aegon's face as he tightened his grip on Y/n's wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered a single word: “Now.” With that, he spun her around, pinning her against the nearby wall as he yanked up her dress and plunged two fingers deep inside her.

she squealed in pleasure her pussy already dripping from her rubbing while she sucked him off, as his fingers moved she moaned and screamed moving her feet apart to give him move space to finger her, and her head threw back in desperate pleasure

Aegon's eyes flashed with excitement as he watched Y/n surrender to his touch, her body arching against the wall as she begged for more. His fingers moved in time with her moans, pumping in and out of her slick folds as he worked her towards another climax. With a grunt of effort, he added a third finger, stretching her wide as he filled her completely.

Y/n's screams grew louder, her body trembling beneath his hands as she teetered on the brink of collapse. And then, with one final thrust, she came apart in his arms, her entire body convulsing in a riot of pleasure as Aegon rode the wave of her orgasm alongside her.

As Y/n's tremors subsided, Aegon withdrew his fingers, leaving her panting and exposed before him. Without a word, he reached down and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the nearby bed where he deposited her with a gentle thud. He followed close behind, His eyes roamed over her still-heaving form, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin and parted legs. “You're mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive as he claimed her once more.

"all yours my King" she cooed up at him

Aegon's face twisted into a cruel smile as he heard Y/n's words, his eyes glinting with amusement in the dim light. He slid a hand between her thighs, finding her wet and ready for him. With a swift motion, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed forward, claiming her with a single, smooth stroke.

Y/n's gasp was music to his ears as he filled her completely, her body wrapping around him like a vice as she clung to him in desperation.

Aegon's pace quickened, his strokes growing harder and more insistent as he rode Y/n to another crescendo. Her nails dug deep into his shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to keep up with his relentless rhythm. As they neared the peak, Aegon's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers biting into her flesh like claws. He lifted her off the bed, holding her aloft as he continued to pump into her with wild abandon. Their bodies crashed together in a frenzy of sweat and skin, the sound of slapping flesh echoing through the room as they hurtled towards their shared release.

As the tension built to a fever pitch, Aegon's eyes locked onto Y/n's, his gaze burning with an inner fire. With one final, brutal thrust, he sent them both tumbling over the edge, their cries mingling in a scream of ecstasy as they shattered together in a blaze of pleasure. For a moment, they hung suspended, frozen in time as the aftershocks wracked their bodies.

Then, slowly, Aegon relaxed his grip on Y/n's hips, allowing her to slide back down onto the bed with a soft thud. He collapsed beside her, his chest heaving with exertion as he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. “Well done,” he whispered, his voice husky with satisfaction.“You pleased me very well this morning.”

"I am glad your grace." She cooed between her gasps before she sat up and slid her dress down he body leaving her naked "are you satisfied, my King?"

Aegon's eyes narrowed, his gaze raking over Y/n's newly-exposed form with a critical eye. For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying her as if searching for some hidden flaw. But then, a slow smile spread across his face, and he reached out to trail a lazy finger down the curve of her breast. “No,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Not yet.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck as he whispered a single word “Again.”

she bit her lip and laid down his bed on her stomach spreading her legs wide "yes my King,"

[bahngnxxx]

--YOUR MINE.

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

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------✦ PAIRING. Changbin x !F! reader   

✦ GENRE. Fluff, smut, romance. 

✦ WORD COUNT. 5.3k

✦ WARNINGS. (NOT PROOF-RED) 18+ mdni — explicit content, extreme fluff and fuzziness, beware, you might die of being single LOLOLOL sorry (totally not me), the usual, slight choking, muscle kink, gentle yet rough sex?? P in v (unprotected. Wrap it before you tap it boys.), lots of sloppy kissing, drool, female overstimulation, cunnulingus, nipple play, breeding kink, hair pulling. 

 With a groan, you whip the car door open and catch it before it could snap off from your force, and enter the car. You set the side mirrors, rearview and all before speeding home to your beautiful fiancé. 

Once you made your way back, you inspect the windows of the large house and don’t catch glimpse of the lights open. Great, he must be asleep, he’s probably tired of waiting for your ass, it’s 8pm anyways, that's late for a routinely guy like binnie. Changbin is the type of guy to sheepishly fall asleep while waiting for someone, he doesn’t mean to but he gets lost along the way. He tries his best! 

You grab ahold of the knob and slowly turn it, entering the house only to almost trip over an array of white tulips and dark red roses on the floor. You are quick to stabilize yourself among the narrow beige walls of the house, averting your gaze upwards to the dimly lit house. Your breath catches in your throat. The area before you is bathed in soft, flickering, lavender and vanilla scented candles, the golden flames dancing across the walls, casting gentle shadows that make the entire space feel like something out of a dream. A slow gasp escapes your lips as your eyes adjust to the scene before you. 

The scent of roses—deep, velvety, intoxicating—fills the air, mingling with the subtle, warm fragrance of vanilla from the candles placed meticulously around the room. A path of crimson petals stretches before you, leading your gaze across the dark hardwood floors. The petals are arranged in a winding, delicate trail, guiding you toward something… and you fall for it like a kid falls for candy laid in a pattern on the floor. 

The entire house is dimly lit, the usual brightness replaced with a sultry, intimate ambiance. Sheer drapes, left slightly open, allow the dark, blue moonlight to seep in, blending with the soft flicker of candlelight. Shadows move like whispers along the walls, and the warmth of the room wraps around you like an embrace. 

You take a tentative step forward, your heartbeat slow and deep, anticipation pooling in your chest. Along the path, small lanterns glow like tiny stars, illuminating the way. The music is subtle—low, romantic, something deep and soulful playing just under the sound of your own breath. 

The petals lead you to the staircase, where more candles flicker on each step, casting an ethereal glow upward. It’s hypnotizing, pulling you forward. The railing is wrapped in strands of fairy lights, soft and golden, adding to the magic of the moment. At the top of the stairs, the petals continue, guiding you down the hallway toward a room where the door is slightly ajar. 

Your fingers graze the handle, pushing it open gently, and the sight before you steals whatever breath you had left. 

The bedroom is a masterpiece of desire and devotion. A canopy of soft, sheer fabric drapes over the bed, fluttering slightly with the movement of the air. The bed itself is dressed in deep red satin sheets, the kind that beg to be touched, smooth beneath your fingertips. More roses—bundled in lavish arrangements—sit in crystal vases on the nightstands, their deep crimson petals vibrant against the candlelight. 

And in the midst of it all, lighting one last candle before setting it onto the small side table is your to-be husband, Seo Changbin. 

His light purple faded curled locks blending in beautifully with the orange, glowing hue of the fire, thick black glasses hanging low on his arched nose, lips in a slit, focused on the task at hand. He’s dressed in an incredibly sexy fit, although it really isn’t much--it is a big deal to you, black tight turtleneck that hugs his body perfectly, tucked into smooth grey-black slacks, topped off with a thin black belt, just begging to be taken off. Or maybe that's just in your head. 

He gently sways around to meet your eyes, but your quickly met with a gasp followed by a loud, obnoxious yelp, feet lifting off the ground, his small yet thick veiny hands meeting his chest in a bunch. He lets out a sigh of relief, small doll-like lips forming into a sheepish smile. 

“Yah, yeobo, you scared me. Welcome home baby, how was work?” 

He’s quick to waddle up to you and pull you into a tight embrace, absorbed by the warmth and.. Largeness of his tits, gently cradling you from side to side, feet to feet, hands running through your pin straight silky dark brown locks, down to the small of your back, peppering kisses onto your forehead. He’s not the tallest man in the world, but that's only because God knew he would be unstoppable if he had that much height, so bin was generous enough to pass it around. 

He takes a deep inhale of your head as you smile and nuzzle into his chest, your speech muffled from the thick fabric of his sweater.  

“Mnhh, tiring. ‘m so sorry I came home so late handsome, my boss has something against me.” 

He let out a soft affectionate hum at your words, lifting your chin up with the edge of his two fingers, gazing down at you with affection in his wide eyes. 

“Ah, aniyo, don’t be sorry. It’s okay, you came home just in time. My poor jagi must be tired, hm? Let’s rest together, yeah? Ooh ooh, yeobo, do you like the setup I did? Is it cute?” 

He went from gently cooeing at you and calming swaying you, to his eyes beaming with excitement and guiding your gaze throughout the room, a wide grin on his face as he shared his efforts with you. You let out a soft chuckle, kissing both of his cheeks bunched up from the smile, your slender hands resting upon his broad shoulders.  

“I love it, but I love you more. You did such a good job, you don’t know how surprised i was when I came in. I might just cry, thank you head my love.” 

He let out a flustered, sheepish chuckle, bashfully rubbing the back of his, cheeks flushing to a light pink hue. “A-ah you're flustering me. Come on, though. I have a nice spa day- well.. Night. Spa night set up for you.” 

With his words, he takes up your hands and wraps them further between his shoulders before moving his hands from the small of your back to your hips, and with a huff, picking you up in his arms, bridal style, feet dangling in the air as he carries you to the bathroom, immediately entranced by the beautiful, sweet date and cacao aroma in the air. You giggle as he places you down on the edge of the tub. It’s so nicely prepared, little Sakura flowers dancing atop the warm, delicious scented water. There were sets of little snacks, soaps, bath salts and bombs stacked up against the tub’s shelves, all to which were your favorite scents, floral and vanilla-ey. It’s what you smelt like most of the time, but he also knew you liked his scent a lot, adding in a few droplets of his perfume, Gucci's guilty pour femme into the steaming tub. The water was tainted a nice crystal blue, like in the sea, and small foamy bubbles arose to the top as he switched the creaky knob of the tub shut.  

He isn’t the type to rush things, and neither is he a lustful and thirsted man. He’s more on the modest side, or maybe he’s just a little shy—but the two don’t differ much. You’ve rarely seen him shirtless as such, and he denies to see you when you try to reveal yourself a bit. He instead covers his eyes with the palms of his hands, mumbling flustered words, tips of his ears red, running a path all the way down his neck, and even a little to the tips of his hands and nose. It was a sight to see, all the more adding to his sexiness, even though some may consider it cute. 

But today was different for him. He was taking a bold step further as he knelt down on his knees before you and gently slipped the warm socks off your feet, gently setting them aside before getting up into a crouch, gently undoing the buttons of your work uniformed jeans. Your none-the less shocked, but even more silenced by his actions, and he looks content about it too. Almost.. Eager, which you wouldn’t use to describe him in these subjects. Your breath hitches and your lip’s part. 

“B-binnie what are you- huh?” 

“Will you get into the bath with your clothes on, jagi? Is that what you usually do?” He smirks up at you with a chuckle, eyes narrowed in a teasing manner, his touch light as a feather as his hands trickle their way to your zipper, very softly uncurling the fabric of the tight material off your soft thighs, down to your ankles, and sliding them off in the floor, quickly folding them up into a neat pile on the ground. Your face feels hot, your body feels sweaty, and most of all you feel blood rushing to all the wrong places, to your face but not to your arms or anywhere their supposed to, but a pulse is clear down in your panties. 

He stands back up and gently lifts you up so you're standing afront him, gazing down at you with gentle eyes, clear with intention.  

“Raise your arms for me, love.” He whispers out, to which you oblige to. Now you're the shy one, eyes staring wide and face gaping at him in pure awe, surprise and.. Prominent lust. His face is eerily close to yours, breathe hot on your face, gently brushing strokes against your nose with every breathe he takes. He runs his hands up your side, to the underside of your armpits, and up to hook under your shirt. Goosebumps spread across you, and chills that make your back arch up to him ever so slightly, eyes wide. He lets out a soft chuckle under his breathe, that small subtle, gentle smile plastered on his face, maintaining eye contact with you as he pulls the shirt off your body, leaving you in just your garments. He’s not shamelessly staring per say, but he is LOOKING, for sure, eyes shyly glancing down at your body, but then back up at your face like he regrets what he’s doing. 

“Could I.. help you remove the rest? I won’t try anything sneaky.” 

Of course, the reassurance, he wants to make you feel safe, not that it’s a bad thing. You fucking love it, letting out a soft hum and a nod at his words. He takes his cue, hands gently drifting to your upper back, taking the lacey material in his hands and slowly unclasping it. Sure, he’s seen you naked.. But not SEEN, seen, he’s glanced, but he doesn’t have quite an idea of what it looks like in general. He hasn’t GRASPED the concept of.. Breasts and all that. Yours in particular, so when the material slides off your body and to the floor, his breathe doesn’t just hitch, he lets out an abnormally large gasp as if he’s heard horrible news, and you can see the gears twisting in his mind, veins tightening in self-control, audibly trying not to get a boner from the sight. He bites on his lower lip, hands tremoring as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, your surprised he doesn’t have a bulge yet, or so you thought. With shaky wrists, he moves down to your panties, sitting you back down before he took any further action. 

“Lift your hips for me, pretty girl.” he spoke in a hushed, yet trembling voice, and you quickly raised your legs up in the air as he wiggled your panties down your legs, and there's no denying the string of slick that connected to your seeping pussy down to your inner thighs. He lets out a strained groan this time, his cock throbbing and straining against the slacks, almost painfully because their locked in place so tight.  

“I-I'm sorry jagi I just- I tried to control myself. I promise I don’t have any sort of inten-” 

“Binnie. It’s okay, you need to stop overthinking things. It’s okay, okay?” 

“..o-okay.” he mumbles back, face flushed with embarrassment as you chuckle and gently ruffle up his hair in an affectionate manner. He stands back up with wobbly knees and helps you into the tub, and immediately the water caves in around you, before waving back out in gentle rays. The water felt incredible, so soft and smooth, not to mention the scent of it, so incredibly relaxing. You stare back at him with wide, loving eyes and smile. 

“Thank you so much for this, binnie. For everything. You’re the best, I love you so much.” 

He lets out a shy chuckle at that, cheeks only further reddening to prove your point. He really is the best, and the sweetest. He gazes back down at you and leans downwards to press a soft kiss to your scalp, gently patting his hands down your scalp.   “I love you too, yeobo. Nothing would ever change that. Ever.” He coos as he takes a little heart shaped chocolate between his fingers and props it up to your mouth, opening his mouth in a playful gesture as it makes its way into your own. You chuckle, lips rounding against the chocolate as he mimics your movements like a child, making “mmm” noises as you ate it. You had to fight yourself to try to not spit it out with the silly noises he was making. 

The water trickled down your hair as he poured the last mug of water atop of you, streaming down your face to your shoulders, the bubbles that you were once lathered in, now making a thin layer up against the water. He pats his hands dry onto his pants before getting up and grabbing a nice towel for you, helping you rise out from the water and God he can’t keep his eyes off you, not anymore, scanning down your shining wet shoulders, down to the droplets coating your perky boobs, to the chub of your stomach, the curve of your waist and mostly to the lips of your puckered up pussy. He bites down on his lower lip again to prevent any sounds coming out. You can’t imagine the pain he must be in, even the sight is painful to see, the bulge is wayy too tight on his pants and your surprised on how much self-control he has. Or anxiety, one of the two. 

He quickly drapes the towel over your head, a cold gush of wind following, coating you in goosebumps until your lathered by the familiar warmth of it. He then helps you out of the tub, careful so you don’t fall out, but then your propped up against him, thighs pressed up against the tiles of the edge of the tub, staring up at him with the eyes that really get him wild. You straighten your back slightly before you lean in to gently kiss him, and he returns it with the same gentleness as you, always following your lead... and that frustrates you a bit. He’s always looking out for you, what you want, his only priorities are you over himself, when really, he should focus on what he wants too. You detach your lips in haste and his face is left in a pucker, eyes widened a bit. 

“Baby, what's wrong?” He questions, lips now retracted to a thin, worried line. 

“Bin, could you just.. Stop? Stop holding back? Kiss me like you mean it, kiss me how you want. I need you to stop worrying about me, and what I want. Trust me when I say I'm okay with anything, and if I don’t like it I'll tell you. Mark my words, okay?” 

His eyes are gleaming with something different this time, and now you know you’ve said the right things. Instead of nodding or responding, he takes up your lips in a much deeper and harsher kiss, lips colliding and squished up against your own, tongue forcing access into your own as he tastes you, keeping the towel wrapped around your body as he takes ahold of you up in his arms, both thighs straddling him, body tucked into a bunch in the towel as he carries you to the bed. 

He drops you back down on the soft bed and you recoil a bit. He doesn’t bother to pat you dry, your legs spread, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, his body in between as he messily kisses you, licking stripes up your lips to your chin. He’s gone rouge and you are so fucking into it, strong arms holding you pinned against the bed, aching cock stuttering up and humping against your bare heat, the fabric of his pants making you squirm beneath him. The kisses are lewd and sloppy, sucking and slurping at your lips, biting down on your tongue, teeth clashing together, tongue running patterns against your lips as he detaches with a pant, and with multiple strings of saliva connected to his mouth and yours. He kisses harshly down your jawline to your nape, finding the sensitive spot low below your ear and biting at you. You let out a whimper, your arms finding its way to his broad shoulders, gently gripping at them as he marks the way from your neck all the way down to the cleavage of your chest, licking another path to the perk of your breasts, his tongue running laps around your hard nipple, before his lips clamp down on them, sucking at it. You let out a squeal, back arching up to meet his mouth as the other hand makes way to grope and knead your other breast in his hands. He lets out a low groan onto your skin. 

“S-shit you taste good. So good. I love you so much, God, I love you. Wanna make you mine, make you mine forever...” 

He chants those words like an omen, like a desperate prayer as his lips find their way down your stomach, then to the fat of your mons pubis, biting at the crease separating thighs before he’s gripping at your lush thighs and throwing them over his shoulders, feet resting on his shoulder blades and his face is buried in your pussy. You’d never seen him in this position before, especially before you, and that draws another desperate mewl out of you, hips rolling against nothing, desperately seeking his mouth to which he responds to, hands holding tight onto your ass as he inhales your scent, nose tickling the tip of your clit. His soft warm tongue finds way to the hood of your clit, licking all the way down to the slit of your vagina, tongue delving into you as he fucked you with it. You buck your hips against him, the heels of your feet finding their way to press him deeper into you, toes curling as he pulls you even further towards him until the only thing you can see is his locks and brows, face completely indulged in your heat. He continues to thrust his tongue in and out of the hollow of your seeping pussy, collecting all of the juices that leaked out of you, making sure not one drop was wasted before licking his way back up to your clit, flicking his tongue against you and closing his mouth in on it, the heat and flow of him driving you insane. At this rate you’re, getting close as his tongue works to flick faster against your clit, but just when you thought things couldn’t get better, he quickly detaches his mouth from you and takes two fingers into his mouth, sucking and coating them before taking them out with a pop, spitting on them for good measure before he’s back at your clit, flicking and sucking at it with all he has while his fingers work deep inside of you, curling up at your g-spot. Just to test the waters, he moans into your clit and the vibration thrums through you, and you cry, to which he hums again but louder. Your toes curl up against him and your hips buck up towards him, moaning loudly and yelping his name like a prayer, your hands gripping the bedsheets hard until your knuckles fade into a pale color, and with one last strong suckle of his mouth and thrust of his fingers your coming undone.  “F-fuck I'm cumming! Y-yeobo I'm- cumming I- ch-changbin--!!” 

You moan out as cum drools down your pussy, and his mouth meets your opening once again, making sure to fuck you out of your orgasm and suck any juices left so your milked dry. He finally raises back up from you with a slanted mischievous smile. 

“God, you taste so good. You’re doing so good for me yeobo. Ah, I almost forgot, this is unfair. I’m still clothed and you’re not, huh? I’ll get to work then~” 

Your eyes gleam even through your dizzy haze, eagerly staring up at him, still out of breath as he works his way out of the turtleneck, throwing it off to the side and holy shit, it’s more then you could have ever imagined. Light abs printed on his body, large pecs and the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen, not to mention the thick muscle of his arms, which you shamelessly adore. He smirks and flexes the muscles, veins popping out as he does so. 

“Like what you see?” 

“I fucking love it. Please bin, I need you.” 

He responds with a low groan, his hands making its way to his tight pants, quickly undoing them and rolling them off his body, boxers stained with a massive amount of precum, but before you can even tell apart the color of his boxers their already ripped of his body, his thick cock standing up straight, leaking and pulsating. It's the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and you swear you can feel your pussy clenching around nothing despite JUST coming.  

He quickly but gently lifts you up from the bed and placed you down so that you're on all fours, bent over for him, on your knees, stomach facing the bed as he gets up behind you, chills spread across your spine. His muscular forearms tease their way up your stomach, to your breasts, (groping them in the process) and to the ball in your throat, VERY gently pressing his thumb against it before his entire fist is locked up against your throat, not enough to steal your breath but enough to strain it, just a bit, and he’s aware of the impact. Hell, he can see your pussy begging and screaming for him to take you up. He uses his other hand to stroke his cock, and you let out a shuddered moan, the sound of his slick precum lathered against his dick so arousing to you, and you swear you could hear him moan back in response. He takes one of your ass cheeks and spreads it, the same hand he used to stroke himself making its way to the small of your back, thumb gently pressed down against your back dimples. 

“Arch down for me a bit more.”  

And so, you do, your face buried in the pillows and your hips sticking straight up, wiggling in anticipation. “Are you ready for me? Could I go in?” 

“No need to ask.” You whisper, and he takes that as a cue to go ahead, which it infact is—but anyways your met with the warm sensation of a thick girth pressed against your heat, gently gliding up to your sensitive clit, back down to your wetness, collecting it onto his own heat. The lewd sound of his cock gently slapping against your pussy fills the room, mixed with the sinful sounds of both of your anticipatory hums and moans. With one final breathe of his, you can feel his cock easing its way through your tight pussy, and you let out a tremored whine, before his cock is finally in all the way, balls deep. He gives you some time to adjust to his size before he’s pulling out again, then thrusting back inside of you, balls clapping up against your clit. You let out a loud moan, and he lets out a shudder of pleasure.    “M-mnh god--” He moans out, sliding his way out before plunging back in, and deep. He takes his time despite the impatience the two of you hold, he wants to make sure that you're okay and adjusted well, and once he feels that your well enough, he picks up the pace, moaning with each thrust he gives, speaking in a strained voice.    ‘F-fuck you're so tight. S-so fucking tight- fuck!" He gasps as he picks up the pace even further, fucking deep into you, thrusting with a might that’d drive you insane, your breasts hanging in the air and bouncing forward with each thrust, one of his hands gently caressing and keeping your ass cheek spread while the other runs a firm but gentle grip on your throat, making your moans sound even more strained and lewd-- pornographic and loud.    

“S-Seo I- oh- fuck- fuck me faster! H-harder!” You cry out, and he obliges once again, the sound of his balls clapping against you getting further wet and lewd, fucking into you with a fervor unmatched and unfamiliar with his normal, household husband dynamic. 

“Gon’ breed you.. Gonna fill this beautiful, pretty pussy with my cum.. Gonna fucking fill you with my babies. You wanna carry my babies, yeah? Yeah? Wanna let me mark you? Yeah? O-oh such a good girl, taking me so well, fuck.” 

You let out a sinful moan as he speaks those words, furthermore adding to your arousal, but this time he spreads his legs, still on his knees but this time lowered slightly so now his stiff cock buckled into you at the perfect angle, your back arching so deep into the mattress you might just crack your spine. Desperate moans slipped out of his mouth more than yours, constantly repeating the words ‘breed’ to you like a broken record, but you were to lost in the feeling to even fully comprehend what he was chanting on about. You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly, every hump hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him, his hand around your throat stroking patterns until your vision went white. He arched down so that his heavy, muscular body was pressed up against your back, breathe hot against your skin. His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, his relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grip onto the headboards for dear life. 

“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral. 

“You can’t? I know you can take it, baby.” Changbin snarled, his voice laced with lust as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot, the one that made you squirm. His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?” 

“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you whined, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him. His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears, but in the best way possible. You were on your knees, weak against him, his own knees buckling, your thighs shut tight, milking his cock dry as he humped upwards into you, deep and demanding. Both his hands slid to meet your breasts, quickly and unevenly drawing lines on your erect nipples, groping onto your boobs for support. 

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Let it out, baby. Feel yourself, let go for me.” 

The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly. 

“I'm gonna come— I'm—” 

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he was met with own orgasm, his seed spewing into you like ropes. 

“Fuck!” Changbin moaned, his grip on your boobs loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full. Breaths ragged and heavy, Changbin collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his muscular weight.  

“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin. Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved. 

His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark. 

Like he was under a curse and was just released, he immedeatly plunged upwards, surpsing your tired, limp body, making you flinch ever so slightly as his gaze drifted towards your littered body with a pout, quickly leaning back down to lather you in affection and kisses. 

“Y-yeobo oh I'm so sorry. You were incredible, too good- I just got carried-” 

“Changbin!”  you sighed tiredly, with an undertone of humor in your spent voice as you flipped around to meet him, greedily pulling him down so that he was laying beside you, nuzzling beside him. 

“Let’s just stay like this.. For a while. So the babies inside me will start to develope. 

Now it was his turn to yell your name. 

“Y-Y/N!” 

[darklove9314-blog]

The Seer: A Koschelain Fanfic

Synopsis: Koschei puts Elain‘a power to the test. This is part 2 of my Koschelain fic, I hope everyone enjoys it. It was going to be three parts, but I’m having so much fun with it I may add more to it later. Also I do have events that I’m participating in soon so I apologize in advance if part 3 doesn’t come out for awhile.

(Also I apologize for the cliff hanger in advance)

Elain wasn’t sure how long she laid there as she woke, letting her chest rise and fall as she stared at the wallpaper, frowning at her predicament.

She had to find a way to escape, had to find a way to convince this death God to let her go, that she was not as valuable as he thought and she would just be a hinderance to him in the long run, but how would she-

A knock sounded at the door, making Elain sit up in the bed, remembering what Koschei had said about sending her a Lady in Waiting.

“Come in!” She called out making herself as presentable as possible as a female withe silver hair and a black gown came into the room, two young females in cream dresses flicking her as the woman curtsied in greeting,

“You don’t have to do that.” Elain assured her, not wanting to feel uncomfortable as the female met Elain’s gaze, her eyebrows lifting up in question.

“It is protocol, my Lady, the Lord would have my head if we acted with such disrespect.”

Elain gulped, hoping that the sorcerer wasn’t that cruel as she threw her feet over to the edge of the bed letting them dangle there, noticing that the bile she had vomited earlier was now gone and the carpet as pristine as ever.

The Lady in Waiting cocked her head to the side observing Elain,

“You do not care for your new lodgings.”

Elain grimaced.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Allow me.” The Lady in Waiting answered, Elain about to object before the Lady in waiting changed the scenery around her as Elain gaped at the power.

“Is that more to your liking, My Lady?” The Lady in waiting asked as Elain took in her new surroundings.

She took in her new room, once so dark and ominous that she felt suffocated in darkness, now-now she felt as if the room represented her with the elegant white comforter and the pink roses and canopy surrounding it. The rug now replaced with a plush white and pink one with pink roses. She smiled.

She rushed to the vanity, as she breathed a sigh of relief, her appearance back to that of which it once was as she smiled at the simplistic white sheer robe adorned with pink roses. It was beautiful.

“Thank you.” She breathed as the Lady in waiting smiled,

“Anything to make you comfortable here.”

“Not unless you have the way to break my betrothed and leave this place.” Elain confided in her, a troubled look crossing over the Lady’s face.

“What’s your name?” Elain inquired, wishing to change the subject.

“I am Amaris, My Lady, and these are my girls, Belinda and Velika.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elain greeted them as the two females bowed in greeting.

“If you shall need anything these two will be here to help you.”

Elain nodded, not sure what to do next. She had no idea of their customs or their expectations here. Hell, she had no idea how any of this was possible. A manor at the bottom of a lake, but she had encounter stranger things.

Amaris stiffened, listening intently as she nodded in understand before turning her attention back to Elain.

“Pardon me. My Lady, but the Lord wishes for you to be brought to his rooms.”

Elain stiffened,

“To consummate the marriage?” She guessed even though the thought filled her with dread, but something other lingered on the surface.

“No. My Lady. Our Lord does not care for such outdated traditions.”

“Then why does he need me?” Elain inquired as Amaris’s brow pinched in confusion.

“My Lord is fond of magic and power,My Lady, he wishes to observe yours.”

Elain turned her back on her,

“I do not wish to expose the extent of my power to the serpent who trapped me in his jaws.” She explained. “If he wishes to inquire about my powers then he can come to my rooms.”

The three of them grimaced,

“And if I am expecting guest, I will need to be dressed as if I am receiving them.”

“Yes, My Lady.” Belinda said, wandering towards the wardrobe to pick out a few choices.

“You can send my message to my betrothed.” Elain instructed Amaris., who gulped, but did not refuse her order.

“I will tell the Lord right away, My Lady.”

“Thank you, Amaris.” She said, sitting down at the vanity as the her lady maids got to work making her presentable.

Black smoke billowed behind her as she gazed upon him in the vanity’s mirror, startling Belinda and Velika as Velika finished placing the last of the white carnations in her hair before stepping away giving The Lord of Death a bow before scurrying away with Belinda.

Sighing, Elain stood, halting before the black shadows as she let him observe her dress. She had went with one that was a beautiful light ocean green with white roses flowing in the left side of her skirt and on the top of her sleeves.

“You dare to summon me in my own home?” Koschei growled, annoyance coating his voice as a hint of a smile spread across Elain’s delicate pink lips.

“Am I not the Lady of this manor?” Elain challenged as Koschei chuckled, amused. The dark shadows caressing her cheek. This time she did not brush them away.

“Coming around to your new title already?”

Elain shrugged, slipping from his grasp as she answered,

“Hardly, but if it pisses you off then I’m more than happy to use my title in order to do it.”

Another chuckle. Why on earth was he finding this amusing?

“Any other commands, My Lady?”

A chill ran down her spine,

“I wish to see the face of the male who has haunted my dreams for the past couple of months. I wish to gaze upon your true form. It is hard merely talking to shadows and things that are not there.”

A pause. A moment of silence between the two.

“It is not that simple, My Lady.”

“What do you mean?”

“I inquire assistance in order to obtain a physical form. It is why I called for you.”

“So you merely called for me for your benefit?”

“And to test the depths of your power.”

“Is that all that matters to you?”

Another pause.

Elain sighed,

“Show me what to do.” She instructed him. Sending a hint of surprise.

“You will help me?”

Elain nodded, as a table materialized before her. A few herbs, potions, and a needle right sat on the table, luring her in. A leather bound book of spells laying right beside everything.

“First you must prick your finger?”

“Why?” She breathed,

“Every spell requires a sacrifice, this is no exception. Prick your finger and let yourself bleed amongst the pages. Only then can you release me from this form.”

Temptation called to her, luring her in as she grasped the needle, taking a deep breath before sticking her finger as If pricking it on and me of her many thrones.

Blood droplets spilled amongst the pages. Invisible hands engulfing her as she heard his voice chant something from the spell book. The invisible hands that were so cold on her skin now warmed materializing until Elain felt bare flesh.

She turned, startled as her heart pounded, her eyes drawn to the sorcerer’s physical appearance, wishing he had not been so…attractive.

His pale hand laid on her upper arm, his skin now warm to the touch as she turned fully to him, his medium length white hair swept back as Elain glanced upon the confides of his body, hating that she appreciated it.

She glanced up noticing the smirk on his full lips.

“Im glad my betrothed appreciates what she sees.” He rasped to her causing her to back away from the heat of his touch,

That voice. She had heard it in her mind but nothing could have possibly prepared her for hearing it in person for the first time. It was the darkest form of temptation.

Her eyelashes lowered, focusing on those lips and wondering what it would be like to give into that temptation, what it would be like to-

“You have gotten what you came here for. Now leave me.” Elain ordered, putting as much vigor in her words as she could as she swiftly sub sided him and moved gracefully away from him to clear her mind.

She hoped he would take the hint, that he would leave her here to her solitude, but he did not strike her as that sort of male.

“Why do you deny yourself that which you desire?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him,

“You think highly of yourself, considering you had to trick my father in order to obtain me.”

Another low laugh,

“It was not that much of a challenge my sweet. Your father was more than willing to sign away your hand in marriage to obtain what he wanted. He just thought I would never come to collect.”

Elain opened her mouth, ready to chaste him before he added,

“Besides those pleasures were not the ones I was referring to, but I’m glad you think upon them.”

A fierce blush painted her cheeks,

“Of what pleasures were you referring to then?”

Koschei sighed, crossing over to where she stood as fast as lightning causing her to stuck in a breath at his closeness as he held up her unmared finger. Brushing the pad of his own over it.

“Do the ones you love know of the secrets you keep within your own gardens?”

She sucked in a breath, about to rebuttal, before the memories were plucked from her mind.

She watched them materialize one by one, the story of her life playing before her as if a performance on a stage.

She saw herself as a little girl, rutting around in the gardens, soiling her dress. She saw when her mother glanced upon the state of her, comparing her to no better than a dog soiling it’s fur in the mood as she had the lady’s maids scrub her skin until it was raw.

She envisioned the cabin, a tiny house that she tried to make the most of. Planting flowers that Feyre had bought her to make the place beautiful. Bringing in her mother’s favorites so she could place them beside her father who glanced at them fondly.

Flowers that she had planted when she returned to the manor, her working hard in the gardens as a handsome man strolled by her, catching her eye for the first time. Later he would be the one to ask for her hand and to break her heart.

The garden where the Shadow singer had been instructed to take her, waiting there in silence as she observed the beauty of such flowers. The garden where she had kissed his lips despite her bond with another.

But the memory, the memory she tried to repress from him the most, the one he had seen anyway was the memory of the first time she had felt her magic well up inside of her. Panicking, desperate to keep it at bay as she pricked her finger on the roses thorns. Hissing when she had felt the stab of pain and pulling her hand back to observe the blood rolling down her finger and onto the fresh soil. Recalling that she had not felt the magic after that.

She also recalled when she had gone to the gardens the next day that a shrub of roses that had not been there before were now there.

She wrenched her hand away from him, her back hitting the armor as she struggled between breaths.

“You had no right!” She bellowed at him. Her power trying to rise to the surface. It was during these moments that she wished she had her sisters power of death.

“To what? Show you the power you’ve been repressing in order to hold yourself back. In order to not show others your true potential. Why would you want to hold back such a beautiful and terrible power?”

Elain bit her lip. Weighing her options about what she should or should not tell him. What truth would benefit her the most.

“Because it is tied to the most horrid day of my life.” She admitted, wondering if he had plucked that memory from her mind too.

He cocked his head to the side, considering.

“So you punish yourself for something that was not your fault?”

Frustration built within her as she bit down on her lip in fury.

“You could not possibly understand.” She sneered.

Those cruel eyes turned back to her,

“Try me. I may understand your reasonings more than you think.”

She glanced up at the ceiling, considering,

“It was my fault. That this happened to us, both of us.”

She heard Koschei suck in a breath, but that shame she had always felt in the back of her mind couldn’t help but crop back up.

“Explain.” He urged her to continue.

“It is my fault that I am like this.”

“Was it not the acts of a cruel and undeserving king that made you like this?” He inquired stepping closer to her as if he was drawling in the air that she breathed.

“He was a part of it, yes, but I still think upon the part that I played in all this madness.”

“He was the sole reason this happened to you along with vicious queens and an ambitious, cruel priestess. How could you possibly think you played a part in your own torment?”

She breathed out, her hands folding over her stomach before she answered,

“Had it not been for my failure to protect my little sister. I would not have had to feel indebted to her. If I did not feel indebted to her, to repay her for all she had done for our family, for myself, then perhaps things would not have ended the way that they did.”

“You could not have seen that coming.”

A low laugh feel from her lips,

“Perhaps that was why the cauldron bestowed me with the curse of this sight, so that my willful ignorance could finally seize.”

She swore she felt the world rumble around her as he closed the distance between them, grasping her shoulders as he growled out,

“This sight is not a curse, my lovely prophetess, it is a gift bestowed upon you by the founder of our creation. It saw a gift within yourself that you were not aware of. It entrusted you with such great power that you did not have to take. It saddens me that you do not see that.”

“You speak in delusion.” She breathed, though she was lured in by his words. That smirk upon his lips.

“Perhaps delusions is that in which you need in order to understand the truth within your desires.”

She knew his words were laced with the sweetest of poison, but she could not stop herself rom consuming them. From giving into the desire she had been drinking in since the moment he stepped into the room.

She let the temptation of giving in control her as she leapt into his arms and met that cruel, twisted mouth with her own, allowing herself to succumb to the sweetest of deliriums.

She had caught him off guard at first, so ensured that she would reject him based off his unpreparedness, but soon he had succumbed to his own desire. His arms locking around her waist as he propped her legs up, wrapping them around him as she moaned into his mouth.

“My sweetest priestess, what dark temptations you hide behind your smiles.”

“Silence.” She commanded him, swaying her hips into his hardness making his own moan loosen. She smiled. “It appears as if I’m not the only one who is tempted.”

It was wrong on so many levels. She knew this, had fought off this temptation from the moment his voice had caressed her thoughts. But she was no saint.

His lips pressed against hers, her hips writhing against his in pleading to not make her endure this suffering a moment longer.

“I may not be as gentle as your previous lovers.” He warned her, feeding her his hungry kisses, his palms cupping her breast in urgency.

“I do not wish you to be.” She breathed. The need for him damn near uncontainable as she felt his temptation answer hers.

To be continued ;)

[zombiequeenblog]

I was thinking about what the Cardinal must have thought when he saw Terzo carrying a bleeding Mouse and I imagine it was one of many instances where he wondered if he could get away with committing murder in the middle of the hallway. 😂

Here's a brief account of the Cardinal’s day before he turned down the hall and spotted Mouse, carried in Terzo’s arms, bloody and hurt from her fall outside.

You can read it here on ao3 if you'd prefer...

The Cardinal wrenched up and out of his dream, sheets clammy and twisted. His bare chest rose and fell, shaky breaths filling the dim room, early dawn just beginning to thread through the cracks of the dark heavy draping, and he realized he had wound his hand so tightly in the top-sheet his fingers were numb. Copia swallowed and allowed himself to fall back on the crimson bedding, staring up at the canopy above. He felt entirely unrested. 

She was dead, and he had been left to be vivisepultured within the coffin of a desolate life.

No. This was insanity; he was merely recalling the nightmare. Letting his eyelids drop, the smudges of black that never entirely left him still adorning his lashes, the Cardinal let himself remember.

A darkened chapel, hushed with grief. White candles burning with timid, reproachable flames, and pale flowers everywhere; lilies with sallow pitying hearts, and unbloomed roses, the Grenache blush within unseen. The thorns less so. All petty adornments utterly unworthy of what lay on the altar underneath a sheer white sheet.

Copia felt himself retch, and he quickly disentangled himself from the bed’s trappings of comfort, sitting up on the edge with his feet on the floor. His room was cool in its grandness, empty of idle folly and wretched fears in the stark beginnings of the day. Satanas. All was well. 

She was fine, he had seen her only yesterday, had he not? And he would most likely see her again today. Busy with her various tasks, clipping around corners in those darling mary-janes she liked to wear inside, her pleated skirt swishing. Or maybe she’d wear her more fitted one, and he could better enjoy the little curve of her ass when she wasn’t glancing nervously behind her. 

Copia breathed out slowly, running his hands down to rest on his knees, soothing himself with familiar thoughts of lust and debauchery. The girl lying helpless beneath him, her clear eyes wide if he wanted her to witness his cruel satisfaction, or closed in a purposeful stupor if he didn’t. Fine dark lashes fluttering, beginning to wet with budding tears he would cause her regardless. Delightful. Complete and utter control. Even as this indecent vision interspersed with the one of her in white, the Cardinal felt himself stiffening below in his boxer briefs. He let out a sigh, almost chuckling to himself. He really was monstrous, wasn’t he? Perhaps this was why the apparently and suddenly judgemental aether was tormenting him with the most wretched nightmares he had ever had in his life. His fists suddenly clenching, Copia almost smashed the crystal water glass he’d left there on his nightstand, feeling the frustration rising almost greater than his now throbbing and rigid cock. 

A shower then, both to wash away the terror sweat and to house a violent emptying into his furiously stroking fist, painting the tiles hot and thick as he groaned out his ghastly desire. Lest he rush downstairs to seize her at the gates, to ravage her on the front steps like a brute as soon as she arrived. That wouldn’t do. 

He whispered out his name for her, into the room’s emptiness, and setting a grim smile on his currently pale lip, the Cardinal shifted carefully and stood up to begin his mundane day of sin.

Later, the Cardinal stepped with purpose down the hall, cutting a commanding figure indeed in the black paint and cassock which denoted his station. Tall, dark, and handsome, in every way that said traits could be possibly simplified. But Copia was not a simple man; he juggled multiple roles within this subversive faith he truly respected, had dedicated his life to. Many facets of his position were presented in turn, to whomever required his skills, and in this way he went through the morning like a meandering but accurate arrow. Buffeted now and then by a trifling problem, a question in need of an answer, or guidance to come to the answer oneself. He handled it all; counsellor, comforter, educator, administrator. All these roles he employed, and employed fairly well, even with a niggling dread in the back of his sharp mind.

Not a dread of her, but rather of the thought alone of the absence of her; this vexing little creature who had captured his heart. Who haunted his very dreams. It was maddening how he couldn’t be free of her, and she didn’t even yet share his faith! This very faith which gave him the conviction to administrate to her in his own personal way. Passing the doors of the chapel, alone for one unblessed moment, he forced himself only to recall what he wanted; the sounds he could coax out of her lips when he was slowly sliding his cock inside her. How tight the feeling was, how her tense body responded to make his heart thrill. The little trembles, the gasps, the screams. How she would shake just before she came. Uncontrollable; she couldn’t hide it from him, he knew. How she loved the ways he could hurt her, and how she kept coming back to coax further hurt from him to suffer sweetly through.

He had never suffered under such a dark obsession before in his life, much less acted upon it. As he continued to walk the abbey’s passageways his thoughts were consumed with her; perhaps he was going insane.  He didn’t see her every day, but he could swear sometimes that he could smell her, taste the sweetness of her mouth, and her cunt, her very blood; could hear her own tremulous heartbeat running frightened, and utterly threaded throughout his own. Perhaps that was just his own fear, intertwined forever now within this terrible love so new to him.

He turned a corner and saw her covered in blood. 

Her face white as a sheet, her body limp in Terzo’s arms. Terzo, who was calling to him now. Her own mouth silent. Copia felt his entire world shattering around him. 

“What the hell happened?” he heard his own voice say. Suddenly he was with her, inside the medical room, and she was breathing, she was alive, she was looking right up at him with those eyes of light illuminating his entire purpose. 

Those same eyes dropping in shame, she explained how she had fallen and been hurt, like it had been simply trivial, no big deal. He wanted to strangle her, to kiss her until she begged for a breath. Perhaps he’d satisfy himself with slaughtering Terzo instead, in this very room.

“What the fuck was she doing up a ladder?” he snapped over at his distressed colleague. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blood flowing from her poor leg, it really wasn’t serious; his educated hands knew what to do on their own, but inside his mind he thought he might go mad with strain.

Everything was eventually sorted, even her stitches, his poor mouse suffering through that with an exquisite grace all her own. He almost took her right there on the cot, almost lost himself in the intoxicating beauty of her agony. And then it was done, she was safe and needed rest, and he needed to flee from her shivering breaths and the pulse in her delicate throat and the tears drying in rivulets upon her pale cheeks. 

He needed to remove himself from her, and go prepare. And later, when she thought herself safe still, upstairs in a room all alone in the dark, he would come to her. He would come, and he would attend to her again. He would drive the idling nightmare from his mind by indulging himself in his want of her, his need of her body and her soul. Her mind would remember nothing, but he would have something excruciatingly sweet to mull over until she came back to the abbey. Back to him, back right where she belonged. 

And he would give her exactly what she needed as well. 

[lilacmingi]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU: JIN’S ENDING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: White Queen!Jin x fem reader

Word count: 1,090

Note: There’s no tag list for the separate endings. If you haven’t read the series yet, you can find the intro here or find it on my masterlist which is linked at the end of the imagine

Every single one of them were amazing and beyond perfect, but your heart seemed to be pulled towards one of them in particular.

"Jin." You answered almost immediately.

A look of surprise flashed across his features, his eyes widening momentarily as his mouth hung open.

"Jin? Are you okay?"

"Uh..."

"He's fine." Namjoon shoved him forward.

Jin stumbled, nearly falling over.

Once he regained his balance, he strode elegantly towards you, regaining his composure and acting as if he didn't nearly fall down just seconds ago.

"My lady." He bowed and held his hand out.

You grasped it, watching as he brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentlemanly kiss to the back of your hand.

With your hands still joined, you pulled him forward to embrace him in a hug, which he was quick to reciprocate, releasing a small sigh of content.

The boys all said goodbye, leaving you and Jin alone in his large castle-well, save for the staff members roaming about.

"Follow me, lovely."

Jin grasped your hand and led you up the lavish, marble staircase, guiding you down an unfamiliar hallway that you hadn't seen before. He stopped when you arrived at a large door, which you assumed led to his bedroom. He opened it to reveal a gorgeous king size bed with a black duvet and a white canopy. The walls were the same color as the sheer fabric that framed the bed, but all the furniture and decor was black, giving the room a clean and sleek look.

Jin carefully closed the door and moved to stand in front of you, removing the space between your bodies.

Your heart rate increased as you watched him move closer and closer. He placed his fingers under your chin tenderly and tilted your face up before pressing his gorgeous cherry lips against your own. Their plushness made you melt upon contact, your eyelids closing as you leaned into him.

He backed you up to the foot of the bed, gently lying you down on the plush mattress, pulling away for only a moment so he could get a glimpse of you.

The way your hair was splayed across the comforter and how your eyes glimmered while gazing up at him made you look like an angel.

Unable to stay separated for very long, he leaned down and reconnected your lips, sighing blissfully into the kiss.

Your palms ran over the soft fabric of his turtleneck, moving up to his lengthy, brown locks as he deepened the kiss and pressed his lips harder against yours. One of his arms slipped around your waist and pulled your body up to meet his, desperate for you to be closer to him.

He pulled away after a few moments breathing heavily, visibly in a daze from the dizzying kiss.

"I love you so much." He mumbled as he ran his thumb over your cheekbone, feeling your supple skin under his fingertip. "You're my princess and I want to give everything to you."

"Jin."

"I'm serious, Y/n. I want to give you anything and everything you need or desire."

You couldn't even speak at that point.

"You're going to be spoiled here. I hope you know that." He warned with a smirk.

"You don't have to."

"Yes. I do." He kissed your forehead.

Two weeks later

You admired the soft, ivory dress Jin's tailors had made for you. You weren't usually one to wear dresses, but this one was nice and casual, not to mention comfortable. A small tiara adorned the top of your head with dainty blue stones dotted about. Though you knew for a fact this was all reality, it still seemed unreal. You weren't royalty, but Jin always treated you as such. Especially when he called you his princess. It never failed to make your heart flutter. He was a romantic and you hadn't met anyone like him. He always knew what to say.

"How is my lovely princess doing in here?" Jin asked walking into your shared bedroom.

"I'm doing fine, thank you." You turned towards him.

When he saw the way you looked in the dress, his eyes went wide for a second, shortly followed by an adoring smile.

"You look like a real princess—a queen, even."

"I'm far from it."

"I think you are. You're dating me, a king. You might as well be one."

"I don't know." You gave a shy smile.

"Okay then. You can be a queen when we get married." He grinned as he lightly pinched your cheek.

"Married?" You parroted, your heart fluttering at the thought.

"Of course, my love. So for now, you'll be my princess, then when we're both ready, you'll be my queen." He ran his fingertips down your sides, feeling the soft fabric of the dress. "You look stunning."

"It's just a casual dress."

"Yes but you make it look extravagant."

You shied away from his endless compliments and heart-fluttering words.

"Don't look away." He tilted your face up. "You look cute when you're flustered."

He moved in closer and you closed your eyes in preparation for what was to come, feeling Jin's lips brush against yours before fully pressing against them. It was a short kiss but there was so much passion behind it.

Jin strode over to the record player against the wall of his room and put on some soft music that filled the space.

"Let's dance." He extended his hand.

You happily accepted his offer, resting your fingers in his open palm. The both of you locked hands and began dancing together, gliding across the marble floors with grace.

"You're so light on your feet." Jin observed.

"I've had my share of slow dances." You chuckled lightly.

"But this is the best slow dance you've ever had, right?"

"Yes, of course it is. I've never danced with someone so handsome before."

"Oh. You didn't have to say that." The tips of his ears were tinted with a noticeable shade of pink that made you grin to yourself.

If there's anything you had learned from living with Jin, it's that he loved when you boosted his ego or bragged about his looks. However, if he got too much praise or attention he would become shy, which you found to be adorable.

"It's true." You continued, watching his ears darken. "You're the most handsome man I've ever danced with."

He grinned, ignoring the heat creeping across his cheeks that were no doubt the same shade as his ears. "I know."

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[the-horny-vault]

Let's have intense rough sex in a pretty white canopy bed with sheer graceful curtains floating around us while you ruin me