#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.”

[louweetomlinson]

Bedroom - Farmhouse Bedroom An illustration of a large cottage master bedroom with white walls, a fireplace, and a beige floor.

[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!

[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.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

[elioslover]

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,"

[cookie-crumblr]

Red Lily Down

GN! Reader x Bunny Hybrid Harem

Part 2~

Introductions

Their Info: 💐🐰✨

Part: 1 2 3

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, GN! Reader, No pronouns used for reader, no genitalia descriptions mentioned for reader, bunny hybrid reader/mostly all of the harem is an animal hybrid of some kind, NSFW: sexual themes all throughout, every named character wants you, non con touching, smut, no sex yet! Reader gets called beautiful and pretty(u r), real furs, non con stripping, non con pet play, imprisonment, dark spooky forest,

Disclaimer: This harem’s theme is based off of a mix of Roots of Pacha and Watership Down. Not intended to represent any real or specific person/time/place/ or culture!

You aren’t just gonna lie down and let Aster win.

Definitely not!

You decide to go scout possible foraging locations. It’s starting to become dusky, however. You forget how fast night actually falls, once the sun starts going down.

The moon and billions of stars light your way, bouncing off of the shining leaves of the canopy above you. Thankfully, you aren’t lost, but you’re a little bit more scared than you’d like to admit.

You see the flickering light of a small fire ahead of you a ways, but it’s the opposite direction of the warren.

Eventually you step out of the brush into a small clearing where you find, August’s wagon!

“Why hello there,” a voice carried on a little breeze made just for you, graces your ear. You spin to face a fancy looking bunny guy with two toned hair.

“Hiya, August!”

“I brought you something really special tonight…” He goes to rummage around in a trunk on the back of the wagon. He’s always bringing you such elaborate treasures. You try and peer over his shoulder, but he blocks you just like always.

“Everything you bring me is special!” you roll on the balls of your feet, deciding to face away from him and respect the surprise. Not too soon later you feel warm arms wrapping around you. “Wha—”

His hands gently encase you, and his head rests on your shoulder.

“Let me take you away from here… I can show you life away from the warrens.” His voice is soothing, but is that something you want? “Here, it’s too late tonight, I’ll take you back home.”

“No way, August! It’s not that far.” You laugh.

“Only if you’re sure, Y/n, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He slowly let’s you go and pats you on the head.

You’re in your own little world when it happens.

Thinking to yourself about your options…

It appears you have a lot.

All of a sudden, a burlap bag comes over your head, it scratches your ear, and you yelp out with more than just surprise!

You hear mumbled chatting but can’t make out any full sentences, when…

*WHACK*

Darkness-

“Mmmf… My head…” You’re dizzy and your head is pounding. It feels as though your skull is in the jaws of a tiger.

“Ahh, you’re awake, good.” A ginormous white rabbit hybrid man sits beside you on a massive bed. He’s intimidating to say the least, and you audibly gulp, mouth dry. “Here, you need fluid.” He holds a clay cup to your lips and has you drink.

Your headache is already subsiding, “Thanks…” Your voice is quiet. “Where… Um…”

“You’re home. I am Hellebore. You are my mate and you will rule over this warren with me.” He speaks as though his words are law.

“Wha—” You notice the bed is covered in soft… Furs… Your eyes widen in horror. Your warren doesn’t kill anything so you aren’t accustomed to it. His loincloth is leather too. And now you’re looking at his crotch… His length isn’t even hard and you can still see the sheer size of it.

“Good. You’re understanding your situation, my little mate.” He brushes your hair from your face and runs his fingers down the side of your jaw, then under your chin. “You are so beautiful,” His ear flicks, and he sighs, “I have to go for now, I will see you again soon.”

You’re left to cool off on your own… Gods, today has been so long! You think about resting your eyes… But you’re way too nervous for when Hellebore will return.

“H-hello…”

You shoot up. “Who’s there!?”

“S-sorry! M-my names Dandelion! I’m h-here to help y-you escape” She squeaks it all out hurriedly.

“Why?” You narrow your eyes, she’s standing in the doorway looking around frantically, she doesn’t seem like she’s lying, but why’s she helping you?

“Y-you’re r-really c-cute!” She blushes.

“Aww!” she’s so adorable! your own face is warm, you bound over to her, immediately forgetting the world just to hold her hand.

You do, you take her soft hand in yours and kiss it, “My hero, let’s go!”

Her face is a blaze of red, smoke would probably be flying out of this poor bunny girl’s lopped ears! You have to take mercy on her for now. She looks like she can only handle so much at a time.

She pulls you along through a pathway in the trees when that feeling of being watched hits you again, this time however, it’s too late to be any help.

Your ankle snags in something, it hurts but not too badly. It’s some type of snare you think, but it’s too dark to see.

“There’s that pretty bunny I’ve been hunting”

“AHHH!!!” Dandelion screams “I’ll get help! I promise!!” She runs, her fluffy lil tail flailing up and down. You trust her.

This human man completely either didn’t hear her, or is just disregarding her. Either way, you already feel frozen and small, and like talking to him would be pointless.

“No bitin’ now, I’m only getting this off,”

“Why would I bite you?” You think he might be deaf, he doesn’t seem to have heard you. “Woah!” Your equilibrium shifts as he hoists you up into his huge arms. He sets you on one arm as if it’s a chair made just for you. You feel a little bashful, but, “Where are you taking me?”

Still he ignores you.

You decide to shift and get more comfortable for the ride rather than waste anymore breath.

“We’re here,” He pulls back a branch, revealing a beautiful clearing filled with white moonlight. There’s even a waterfall behind his cabin! You kinda want to jump in, but it looks a little scary too. “Now, what to call you,”

“You can call me, Y/n.” You fold your arms, there’s no way he’s deaf. He’s pretending he can’t hear you!

“How about I just call you, Bunny, for now…” It’s not a question. You end up with a straight face, already fed up with this human man and his weird shenanigans.

“I’m a hybrid. I’m not a full bunny, ya know,” You say.

“You make such cute little sounds, Bunny.” After he hangs up his thick brown fur coat, he approaches you, looking into your eyes fully.

You feel scared suddenly, like he’s finally actually seeing you. But you’re completely exposed.

“I’ll be right back,” He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your face up to look at him.

When he returns he picks you back up, you hold onto his arm, it’s so thick, you wonder for a second what the rest of him is like…

“Bath time, little Bunny,” He pulls at your top, you try to hold it down and end up huddled in the cold dirt.

“D-don’t!” He pays your plea no mind.

Huge calloused hands squeeze your thighs, and pull down fabric from your skin. Some of it tickles madly, some of it feels too rough to bare.

Soon your stripped completely naked, and covering yourself with your hands and legs. For a second you think you can see red adorning his cheeks. You willingly climb in the fire heated bath.

He takes a sponge, and washes your body, thankfully not spending too much time in any one place.

He puts you in a cotton shirt that’s baggy and soft, before carrying you once again. This time he drops you off in a hutch. Possibly the most cruel and inhumane thing you could ever think to be put into.

“No way. You can stop now!” You grab onto the bars and try to pull on them.

He ignores you and goes back inside.

“LET ME OUT!!” You keep screaming until you hear something in the brush on the edge of the clearing. “Hello…?” You peep.

“Hello…” Possibly the deepest voice you’ve ever heard echos you…

“Um… I’m uh… Stuck… C-could you… h-help?” Your heart pounds in your long, fuzzy ears. You swallow painfully while you wait for seconds of absolute silence for the man to do anything at all.

Footsteps crunch through the pine needles.

You behold him as he steps into the moonlight, a gorgeously rugged wolf man. More rough around the edges than even Winter. You watch him wide eyed, as he unlocks the hutch.

He grabs hold of your waist and hoists you out.

“You should follow me. ‘s not safe.” He doesn’t talk much you can already safely assume. Instinct takes over and you grab his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t hold your hand back.

You almost want to thank him, it’s so late now that you know predators are just lurking around every dark corner… Predators like big dark wolf men in the middle of the dark forests, but you don’t think of that, do you?

He takes you into a lively and bustling wolf pack. They’re dancing around a big bonfire in the middle of the tribe.

“Safe. Sleep.” He says, and lays down on a fur covered slab of rock with his back to you.

It’s not as comfy as what you’re used to at all… but you manage to sleep for a little while at least.

“I’m here for them.” a deep woman’s voice rings out like a beautiful and slow song.

You open your eyes and it’s even darker out now.

It’s Gloria! The chief of your sister warren. She’s gorgeous, as tall as Hellebore, too! You practically drool as you imagine her stepping on you. You jump up and excitedly rush over to her.

She smiles when she sees you. “Ah, it’s wonderful that you’re alright, darling. Now, come.”

You follow her all the way to your home. She takes your face in her hands once inside your canvas walls.

“I… Was worried. I’m going to discuss treaties with the woods tomorrow. You’ll be able to go where you wish.” She kisses your cheek and runs her finger down your jaw. A sigh leaves her plump lips, “You’ll thank me next time. I unfortunately have to go for now my sweet little darling.” You hug goodbye.

Your body burns.

You’re beyond exhausted as you trudge your way through the warren. It’s so quiet and creepy, but the gentle snoring wafting out of the open windows all around comforts you. It was really a very short walk.

“Y/n?” Azure yawns…

[magpie-writes]

Venus in Furs

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Rating: E

Words: 5k

Warnings: Targcest, semi-public sex, bondage, pain kink, explicit FFM smut

A/N: I know it was extremely naughty of @acrossthesestars​ and I to end Part One where we did, but this is the chapter where we make it up to you 😘 Posting again to hit the tags properly.

alex masterlist | emma masterlist | ao3

Part One - Seven Hells P.1 | Part Two | Part Three

When Helaena Targaryen invited me to meet her at a “private pleasure club” (“So… a sex club?” “Exactly!”), I had tried to imagine what to expect. Tarnished mirrors and worn pleather? A stripper pole? Buzzing neon and tacky floors? Whatever I’d been envisioning, it hadn’t been this.

I inched past where Aemond held the door open and into what was clearly a room set aside for their exclusive use. A massive low lying bed reigned over a room lined with smoke-black walls, its iron posts topped with a flowing canopy, wound around with twinkling lights. A constellation of white pillar candles littering the surfaces of twin nightstands brightened the shadows, and a neon wall sign that read “Trust Me, Love Me, Fuck Me” in glowing pink script hung above a curved ivory leather couch. A bookcase stood against one wall, its open shelves lined with vintage books, insect specimens, and an assortment of objects in blue glass and stainless steel. When I stepped closer, I recognized them for high end sex toys.

Over my shoulder, I asked “Where did you even get these?”

Two sets of hands slid around my waist and hips, two mouths pressed to my cheek and jaw.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“Do you want to try them?”

I was.

I wanted.

I wasn't sure where exactly to put my hands, who exactly to give my attention to. Helaena sensed this and pushed me back into her brother, who kicked the door closed behind us. Aemond caught me, long fingers digging into the meat of my hips, holding me still against his hard chest as Helaena prowled forward, her lips finding mine. I felt a fist curl into the hair at the back of my neck, tilting my head to the side, teeth scraping over my skin. Helaena cupped my jaw as I opened for her, suckling at her tongue until she made a little whining noise. It was good. It was really good.

Aemond's breath was hot against my temple. "I'm going to take this off now," he murmured, his aquiline nose dragging over the high point of my cheek as his hand found the zipper of my dress. As I opened my eyes and looked up at Helaena, she just smiled, as if whatever my answer was, it would be okay. Aemond waited and my heart thundered in my chest.

"Okay," I breathed.

He made quick work of the zipper before sliding the thin straps from my shoulders and placing a kiss to the skin there. Helaena turned her back to me, glancing over her shoulder and grinning as she pulled her hair to the side. "Please?" She asked, and I could deny her nothing, trembling fingers sliding the zipper down the track and exposing the pale plane of her back. The material dropped to the floor and Helaena stood in pale blue lingerie that likely cost more than my rent. Waist garters held up sheer stockings and high waisted panties hugged the plump curve of her ass.

Scattered over her fair skin was an explosion of color that had been hidden by her white blonde curls and dress. She blushed when she saw me staring, my eyes unsure of where to land. She pointed to the butterfly that sat high up on her left shoulder, black and orange, speckled with white. "This one is Danaus plexippus - a Monarch. Their wingspan is about three and a half inches." I nodded dumbly as she gestured at the next, this one lower, a beautiful blue and pale yellow. "This is Papilionidae - the Swallowtail. Their wings beat over three hundred times a minute." Large hands tugged gently at my dress, pulling it down my body as I listened to Helaena murmur her strange nothings. Her fingers ghosted over a dark blue butterfly, this one closer to her ribs, tiny orange dots at the bottom of its wings. "This is Apatura iris, the Purple Emperor. They eat dead things." And scattered between the winged insects were other bugs and blooms and blossoms, the flowers all varying shades of pale blue and lavender and soft pink.

Helaena Targaryen was a gods damned work of art.

"Isn't she beautiful," Aemond said. It wasn't a question, his voice a low purr in my ear. I hadn't even realized my dress was pooled at my feet until his hands splayed possessively over my bare stomach.

I nodded absently, unable to tear my gaze from the beautiful canvas of Helaena’s skin. I drew my finger up her side, slowing when I reached an insect I didn’t recognize.

“And this one?”

“Carabidae,” she answered without looking. The beetle shone metallic on her skin, greens and golds, so alive even though it was stationary. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the ink.

Entranced, I traced an invisible path to the next, my fingers faltering as they reached a spider of some kind. Helaena shivered beneath my touch and for the first time, unease flickered behind her violet gaze.

“That’s a Trichonephila clavata," she murmured. "An Orb Weaver. People find them off-putting because of their size and web structure, but they're meant to symbolize an end to hardship and a beginning of abundance."

Aemond's hands covered my breasts, kneading the flesh through the thin material of my bra. I felt him through his slacks, the hard ridge of his cock pressed to my lower back as he curled his body around mine. The sight before me and the feeling behind me was a heady mix and I felt almost weak at the onslaught of sensation.

"They're beautiful," I managed to squeak out as Aemond sank his teeth into my neck, one hand abandoning my breast to once again fist in my hair, tilting my head to the side.

Helaena grinned and turned to face me, stepping closer. The body glitter that covered her soft skin glowed in the dim light and she looked lit from within. "Can I touch you?" She asked, her eyes meeting mine.

I nodded, unable to find my words as Aemond sucked a bruise against my skin. His sister pressed her body to mine, skating her hand down the center of my belly and past the waistband of my silky, dark blue underwear. She purred when she found me wet.

"You look so pretty in this color, Lady Grey," she whispered against my lips. "Doesn't she look so pretty, Aemond?"

Aemond broke away from my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder and watching Helaena press her middle and ring fingers against my clit, drawing a slow, tight circle. The hand in my hair forced my head down, forced me to watch as his sister slid between my folds, two fingers teasing at my entrance. "Like it was made for her," he answered, tugging the cups of my bra down to expose my breasts, pinching harshly at my nipples. He chuckled when I gasped.

"It matches your eye," Helaena said, excitement evident in her breathy voice. She plunged those teasing fingers inside of me and I cried out, hitching my hips forward and pushing back against Aemond.

He hummed, low in the back of his throat. "So it does," was all he said.

Helaena curled her fingers forward, hitting the delicate spot up high that made my knees go weak. Leaning over my shoulder, she caught Aemond's lips in a heated kiss. He growled against her mouth and I clenched around her hand at the sight of his hard lines meeting her soft curves, the two of them melting into each other. Helaena pulled her hand from my underwear and Aemond instantly replaced it with his own, the two so in sync it made my head spin as I tried to catch up. Bending down just slightly, Helaena pulled my right nipple between her lips, her hands coming to clutch at the underside of my breasts. Aemond's touch was rough comparatively and I couldn't help but grind down against him, the orgasm that had been so abruptly halted earlier creeping back up on me.

"You're so tight, Grey," Aemond whispered against my ear.

I merely nodded, my mouth dropping open as my head fell back against his shoulder. When he kissed me this time, it was gentler, almost teasing. He pulled back and I moaned low in my throat, bereft, and chased the wicked curve of his mouth with my own.

“No,” he chided, amused. “Eyes on her.”

The thin whimper of protest died on my lips when Helaena slid two pale fingers into my mouth. I sucked them greedily, watching helplessly, blissfully, as she circled my nipple with her tongue. She sucked it to a stiff peak, one hand gently kneading the flesh of my other breast, while her brother’s fingers dipped back inside me. Moaning, I spread my legs to take him deeper, needing the touch of his hand.

“There,” he crooned as his fingers slid against me. “Does that feel good, Grey? My fingers in your pretty cunt?”

“Uh huh.” I was too far gone to care about the pathetic mewl that fell from my lips as I nodded.

Helaena hummed around the swollen tip of my breast, an eager smile playing over her lips.

“You want us to make you cum?”

“Y-yes.”

Aemond leaned in close, took the shell of my ear between his teeth, and growled, “Then beg.”

I don’t remember what I said next. How I begged for his nimble fingers to split me open, or how I pleaded for Helaena not to stop suckling at my breasts - but I must have, because before I knew it I was a writhing mess in Aemond’s arms, his firm hold the only thing stopping me from sliding onto the floor.

“Pretty thing,” Helaena murmured, her mouth skimming moth-wing light over my heated skin, her hands reaching back to unclasp my bra. “She did so well for us, didn’t she?”

"She did." The two words from his mouth felt like a mountain of praise. Aemond's hands skated over my arms, his long fingers tangling with mine and raising my hands above my head. I looked up and could only watch as he placed my palms over two small bars, each in the center of a sort of hanging restraint. I hadn't even noticed them when I'd entered the room, my eyes drawn to shinier, more obvious things.

As if he did this every day, Aemond secured the leather straps, both lined in something soft, around my wrists. When he was satisfied that I wasn't going anywhere, he stepped in front of me, his hungry gaze dragging over my body.

Helaena looked at me as if I were an offering. Aemond stared as if I were a sacrifice.

She perched her chin on her brother's shoulder as his eye met mine, her long fingers, the nails painted a soft pink, began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Inch by inch, his moonlight-pale skin was revealed and it felt as if I was being let in on a secret as the art inked into his flesh came into view, in a style completely different than his sister's. Over his right pec was inked a woman with long, waving hair, her head turned to the side, a tear falling down her cheek. Below his collarbones sat two thick, broken chains, the words Fire and Blood between them at the base of his throat, and across his ribs was a heart, pierced with three daggers. I couldn't help but squirm as I watched her fingertips slide over them, lingering on the one delicate tattoo amongst the thick etchings, an Orb Weaver over his heart, twin to the one on her spine, before trailing down the lean muscle of his stomach, up the center of his chest and higher, to push the black fabric from his body.

"You want him, don't you?" Helaena's eyes darted between mine and Aemond's, her lips curled at the corners.

I nodded.

"Say it." There was a command in her voice and that molten feeling rose up in my belly again. I felt the heat crawl up my neck.

"I want him," I said softly, not tearing my gaze from Aemond. Something softened in him, as if he had decided I was worthy of the respect of believing me.

Helaena's wicked hands found the buckle of his belt, making quick work of it before unbuttoning his slacks and pushing them over his slim hips. There was more ink on his legs, but I was too enraptured by the sight of him hard beneath the thin material of his black boxer briefs, the thick length of his cock jumping as Helaena stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, "I told you, lover." Then her fingers disappeared beneath his waistband and Aemond cracked, his eyes closing as he groaned at her touch.

I whimpered at the sight, at the ache building between my thighs as I did my best to press them together, to alleviate that throbbing need that clawed at my belly. Aemond's eyes snapped open at the sound, his face setting in harsh lines before he turned and gathered Helaena's hair in a fist. He tilted her face back and she smiled wickedly up at him just as he crashed his lips to hers, claiming her. Backing her up toward the bed, Aemond slid his thumbs beneath her underwear, sliding them down her shapely thighs before stepping out of his own. When she had stepped out of them, he dropped to his knees on the mattress, facing me, and crooked a finger at his sister. She fell, a graceful tangle of limbs as she arranged herself on all fours in front of him, leaning forward to brace her weight on her forearms. Her eyes were lavender fire as they met mine and she whined when Aemond spread her open, sliding two fingers inside of her.

My hips jerked, the phantom sensation of those same fingers still haunting me as I watched Helaena’s lips part. Pleasure bloomed on her face, her limbs soft and pliant as Aemond drove her closer to bliss. Her low moans, the way her lids slipped to half mast, the dreamy look of enjoyment as he fingered her - all of it was exquisite torture. I bit my lip, my thighs rubbing together as I felt my own heat rising. When Aemond began kissing her neck and circling her clit to make her arch against him, I thought I might actually combust.

As if sensing my distress, Aemond smirked over the pale round of Helaena’s shoulder. “Something wrong, Grey?”

“N-no,” I breathed. I was clutching the padded leather restraints encircling my wrists, utterly transfixed by the serpentine dance of their bodies gliding together on the emerald silk sheets.

“No?” He echoed, an eyebrow raised. Lowering his head, he nipped at Helaena’s earlobe and murmured “Tell her what we do to liars here, sweet sister.”

Turning a lazy feline grin my way, Helaena purred, “We punish them.”

“That’s right,” Aemond agreed, cruel fire snapping in his mismatched eyes as he stared me down.

Images of whips and paddles flashed before me and I shuddered in delicious anticipation, but before I could ask what form my chastisement would take, Aemond grasped Helaena’s shoulder and drove himself inside her in one swift movement. I whimpered and tugged helplessly against my restraints, achingly empty and desperate to join them.

This was to be my punishment: being forced to watch their coupling without the relief of touching them, or even myself.

Every rock of Aemond’s hips rolled through Helaena like a wave. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her generous breasts swaying with each thrust, or the way his strong fingers grasped her hip. Her face crumpled as pleasure consumed her and even his expression slackened as he lost himself between her thighs. Slick dripped down my own as I squeezed them together, rocking on the balls of my feet as if by following their rhythm, I could relieve the emptiness inside me. I cried out when Helaena did, our voices rising together until hers broke on a sob as she found her bliss. Aemond worked her through it, driving himself inside her until she sank, limp and spent, against the sheets.    

After a moment, Aemond leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the Monarch butterfly that graced his sister's shoulder. He heaved himself up and pushed from the bed, stalking toward me. It was impossible to keep my eyes from dragging over the lean muscle that covered his frame, his now tangled silver-blonde hair, his cock that jutted proudly from between his hips. The blackwork tattoos that covered his moonlight skin just drew me in deeper. His chest brushed mine and his fingers were surprisingly gentle as he brushed them over the tattoo on my ribs, tracing the famous words Joan of Arc had muttered: "I am not afraid. I was born for this." He hummed, in question or approval I wasn't sure, before reaching up and unclasping the restraints that still held my wrists above my head. My hands fell to my sides, the blood rushing back into my arms, pins and needles dancing over my skin uncomfortably. I hissed at the sensation and Aemond took my hands in his, surprising me, rubbing his thumbs over my palms until the feeling began to subside.

When I looked up, he was staring at me, his face set in those harsh lines, as if he were waiting for me to pull away. But I wouldn't, I couldn't. He was so close and all I wanted to do was touch him. Tentatively, I reached up, trailing my fingertips feather light over the scar that split the left side of his face. I wasn't sure if he could even feel it, but he leaned ever so slightly into my touch, his gaze never leaving mine. Without thinking, I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to the ridge of twisted flesh, my breath fanning across Aemond's face. I felt him tense and moved to back away, but then his hands were in my hair, his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me.

There was nothing soft or gentle about it. This kiss was teeth and tongue, push and pull, desire, devotion, and all of the mess in between.

Maybe it wasn't just Hel that wanted me. Maybe Aemond did, too.

I threw my arms around his neck and let him turn me around, let him guide me backwards toward the bed where Helaena waited for us.

Aemond broke the kiss, tossing me back against the mattress as if I weighed nothing. He laid his body over mine and kissed me until I couldn't breathe, my lungs constricting with their need for air, but I couldn't bear to pull away from him. He dragged his lips down the line of my jaw and across my throat. When I glanced up, I found Helaena smiling down at me, that devilish fire lighting up the lilac depths of her eyes. She trailed her finger over the bridge of my nose before leaning down and pressing her lips to mine. The juxtaposition of her soft mouth and Aemond teeth scraping welts over my collarbone set of sparks across my skin, and I reached up to cradle the back of her head as Aemond's lips latched around my nipple.

I felt like a conduit between them, glowing from the inside out as they touched me, as they pulled me apart and fit me back together in new and wondrous ways.

We tumbled together, wandering hands and roving mouths, discovering each other. I learned that Helaena made the sweetest sounds when I dragged my fingers through her folds, the slick mess of her pleasure helping me glide slow circles around her clit. Aemond, for all he liked to watch, pinched his brows together and cursed when I took him in hand, my palm still wet with her, and stroked him in the grip Helaena demonstrated. One arm thrown lazily behind his head as he reclined, Helaena lounging by his side, my body sprawled between this thighs, Aemond took it all in stride - but when I lowered my head and licked the salty pearl of precum from his weeping tip, he growled and caught me by the wrist.

“Enough.”

He hauled me up roughly until I was straddling him. By then my own cunt was aching again and I slid eagerly over his thick, swollen length, making him hiss with every pass of my hips.

The heavy fall of his jeweled gaze stilled me. "Are you on birth control?" The way he asked was so clinical that I drew back at the question. After a moment I nodded.

"My pills are in my purse if you want to see." My voice was small, but I couldn't stop myself from grinding down against him. Aemond just nodded, his eyes drifting down my body again. The blunt head of his cock caught against me, and I leaned back, reaching between us to ease his way. My eyes rolled back when he bottomed out, but he took no mercy on me, didn’t wait for me to adjust to the stretch, just planted his feet and drove himself impossibly deeper, smug satisfaction on his proud face.

Helaena watched us for a beat, two, then slid gracefully up and above Aemond. I reached for her, pulling her into a kiss even as one of his broad hands left my hip to grasp her thigh and pull her down, down to his waiting mouth. Running my hands through her silky hair, I caught her by the nape of the neck, our kiss grounding me as we both rolled our hips, Aemond fucking both of us at once. The flick of my tongue in her mouth echoed the tempo he set, and Helaena’s moans were a musical counterpoint to his grunts as she wound her arms about my neck. I scraped my nails along Aemond’s thigh and was rewarded with the barest suggestion of a whimper. His fingers tightened around my hip hard enough to bruise. I hoped it would. That bloom of pain in the morning might be enough to convince me this night was more than some fevered dream.

As if she sensed the drift of my thoughts, Helaena’s kisses trailed lower. She nipped at my collarbone and, when I gasped at the sharp sting of pain and arched my back, grasped me around the throat.

“Pain excites you, doesn't it, Lady Grey?”

I nodded quickly, my eyes widening beneath her hypnotic stare.

Her smile unfurled like a secret before she leaned back in, catching my bottom lip between her teeth and biting down, her fingers still encircling my throat. Beneath me, Aemond's hands came to grip the cage of my ribs and I felt delicate in his grip, held up only by the strength of his body as he fucked me. Helaena whined against my mouth, a dusky flush crawling up her chest, her neck, her cheeks. I chased her lips as she leaned back, one hand finding her jaw and holding her to me, the other clutching at her breast as my tongue curled behind her teeth. She trembled in my grasp as Aemond drove her closer and closer toward the edge that we all teetered on. I heard a growl from below, felt a shift as he dug his heels into the mattress and matched the thrust of his hips to the rhythm he set with his mouth.

Helaena tumbled over first. I swallowed her strangled gasp, the sound low and throaty as she moaned her brother's name, her hands tightening where they gripped my wrists. I didn't think there was a more beautiful sight than Helaena Targaryen caught in her own pleasure, her mouth parted, her eyes closed tight, her starlight hair wild around her face. She fell back against the pillows, panting, her skin shining with glitter and a light sheen of sweat. She was a goddess in that moment and I couldn't believe I was here with her, worthy enough to see her like this.

I wanted to look at her forever. I wanted for her to see me the way I saw her.

Aemond pulled my attention back to him, back to my own body and where we were joined. He reached up and cupped my jaw in his large hand. The gesture was shockingly intimate in a way I hadn't expected and his eyes felt impossibly deep as I fell into them. With his free hand, he kneaded at my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I leaned into his touch and felt that heat bloom within me, rising higher and higher until it exploded through me, pulling me over and then down, down, down to meet him. I fell forward and caught his lips with mine, devouring the little sound of surprise he made at my boldness. His arms wound around my back and I felt him so deep I knew I was stained by him. He came with a groan, spilling hot within me, his hips finally stilling as his hands trailed between my shoulders.

I thought I would never catch my breath, that my heart would thunder out of my chest. But Aemond shifted beneath me, tugging me to lay at his side, tucked beneath his arm. He rested his head on Helaena's soft stomach and her fingers were instantly carding through his hair, combing the snarls I'd left behind. It felt easy to be with them like this, soft and pliant in the afterglow, and the thought squeezed tight in my chest. I wriggled, preemptively feeling the awkwardness that undoubtedly would come next. Aemond clicked his tongue at me, tugging at a lock of my hair when I couldn't keep still

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice rough, a little irritation pulling at the edges.

"I'm just gonna get cleaned up," I said. "Let you guys do whatever else you had planned with your night." All I wanted was to stay until they sent me away and pray that maybe they never would. But if I was being honest with myself, my welcome was likely worn out.

Helaena reached down, trailing her finger over the flat of my nose again. When I looked up, she was smiling. "You don't have to go, Lady Grey. You can stay as long as you like. No one is going to kick us out."

My brows pulled together. "Are you sure, I mean -."

Aemond cut me off. "We own the place, Grey. No one is coming knocking. Just relax, okay?" His arm would tighter around my middle, dragging me further into his embrace. When I didn't relax right away I felt his hand on the back of my head, guiding my cheek down against his chest. "Will you just…" Finally I acquiesced, melting against him as Helaena tangled her fingers with mine.

"Do you really own this place?" My voice was whisper quiet.

Helaena answered. "We bought it two years ago. Our brother Aegon thought it was a good investment, but you can't trust him with money, so Aemond and I went in on it. It's proved very lucrative. Who knew there were so many little deviants in King's Landing."

“Oh. That’s... wow. Okay. But do you want me to? Stay, I mean.”

Hel opened her mouth but Aemond sighed and I swear I had never heard a more weary sound. "Grey, I need you to listen very carefully. Helaena wants you to stay. I want you to stay. The only reason you'll move from the spot you're in is when I inevitably roll you over and fuck you from behind, okay?"

My head popped up, my cheeks hot with the blood that rushed to my face. When I looked down at him, his eyes were closed, his face utterly relaxed. Helaena just grinned.

"He means it too," she said, her finger tracing the Orb Weaver that was tattooed across his heart. "Aemond only says what he really means."

After a moment I nodded, laying my hand over his pec and resting my chin on top of it, a small smile curling at the corner of my mouth.

Her words sounded like an invitation. They sounded like a promise. And if I listened very carefully, they sounded like a possibility.

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

[theyareweird]

Vampire Knight: Senri's Yandere for Kianna — Part 15 (Requested)

The Night Arrives

Kianna emerged from the bathroom of her room. She adorned a high-low vintage Lolita dress. The white sink fabric was decorated in shiny rose leaf pattern throughout. Approaching the floor-length mirror, Kianna examined her appearance. Eyeing the bunched up puff sleeves, the petite girl thought they would look better off her shoulders. With that, Kianna pushed the sleeves down to convert the dress into an off shoulder neckline. The great thing about how she designed the ball gown was the sleeves could be worn either way, and it would appear natural.

Kianna then turned towards her pink canopy bed. She had laid a pair of plain white sheer tights out to wear. Sitting on the edge, Kianna rolled up the tights and slipped them on. After that, she put on a pair of red trary mary jane shoes.

Standing back up, Kianna walked towards her vanity and pucked up a large red velvet bow choker. Snapping it around her neck, she used it to conceal her bite markers. In the bow's knot, Kianna had stitched a little silver diamond broach onto it. A ruby was encrusted into the center. At the bottom of the broach, were two silver dangling chains with rubies attached to their ends. Positioning the bow onto the side, Kianna then swipped a pair of red velvet wrist gloves off the vanity and pulled them over her hands to hide the scars on her wrists.

After that, Kianna returned to the mirror. She used her now gloved hands to gently pat down her wavy, jaw-length hair. On either side of Kianna's head were a single braid, which framed her profile along with her curled back blunt bangs.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. "Come in." Kianna said from across her room.

Senri then entered Kianna's bedroom. As usual, he was dressed in the Night Class uniform, which was similar to that of a formal suit. This way, male students didn't have to spend money on a tux. Senri's red tie, black dress shirt and white vest were fresh out of the wash. In addition, Kianna noticed his white pants and white jacket with black lining had been ironed. Although Senri didn't have to put in the extra effort to appear cleaner, his date thought the idea was nice.

Senri's black dress shoes tapped as he slowly entered the room. While approaching Kianna from behind, the mahogany haired vampire secured the customised silver rose buttons on his uniform. Once everything was buttoned-down, Senri fastened his matching cuff links.

Noticing the color scheme and rose details of Senri's attire made Kianna smile to herself. She was pleased to have created the perfect outfit to match Senri's clothes along with the corsage he choose. Speaking of which, Kianna's amber colored eyes spotted the white rose tucked into the breast pocket of Senri's jacket. The flower had red glitter along the petals' edges.

"You’re not ready." Senri said, staring at Kianna's reflection in the mirror from behind her. His blue-gray eyes trailed down her figure. Senri was pleased to see a white rose, dusted in red glitter, positioned on the left side of Kianna's dress. She was on the same page about their attire matching as a couple.

"Almost." Kianna reassured him. Senri then noticed the untitled red velvet waistband had yet to be tied in the back and decided to tie it for his girlfriend. When he finished, a big red bow rested at Kianna's lower back.

"Thank you." Kianna smiled, flashing Senri her pearly whites.

Senri nodded in response. "Where is your corsage?" He asked.

"In my jewelry box." Kianna replied, smoothing out her dress.

Senri said nothing as he retrieved the corsage he had custom-made for his lover. He then approached Kianna, lifted her left wrist with one hand and slipped the two-strand pearl wristband corsage over her wrist. The red silk ribbon tied below it matched perfectly with the rest of Kianna's look. "Perfect." Senri said, lovingly gazing onto his beautiful date and girlfriend. He noticed the subtle eyeliner, mascara and silver glittery eye makeup on Kianna's face. "Beautiful..." Senri whispered. He then hooked his index finger and thumb around her chin and softly kissed her red painted lips.

Parting, Senri's eyes lingered onto Kianna. He wanted to start making out with his Sweetheart, but he knew it was time to go. Senri then turned his heel to stand at Kianna's side and offered an arm to her. Kianna complied by linking her arm with her boyfriend. From there, the couple exited the room. 

When the two stood at the top of the right stairs from the foyer, they noticed the entire night class were gathered in the entrance hall. It seemed everyone was waiting on Kianna and Senri to join them before they departed to the main campus building. Kianna internally felt a bit embarrassed for making everyone wait on her, but she was present now. As she descended the staircase on Senri's arm, Takuma pulled out a polaroid camera and snapped a picture of the pair.

At the camera's flash, Kianna rapidly blinked her eyes. Senri hummed in displeasure, narrowing his sensitive eyes at the bright light. "Takuma, what was that for?"

The blonde vampire grinned, taking the picture into his hand as it printed out of the camera. "I thought it would be fun to put together a little scrapbook of our photos at the ball!" Takuma chirped, fanning the picture to help the image develop.

Rima shrugged in her royal blue and black mini dress. "Just go with it." She sighed.

Azusa smiled up at Kianna from the ground floor and said, "You look beautiful, Alice."

Senri scuffed at this in response. He wanted to say something but held his tongue to avoid making a scene. Rima and Takuma were already nervously shifting their eyes between the two boys feuding over Kianna's affection. Everyone knew what Azusa was trying to do was terribly wrong towards someone else's soul mate. Kaname has even scolded him on the matter, but it seemed the Level D Vampire still had a spark left in his heart for Kianna.

"Uh, thanks." Kianna smiled kindly.

A subtle smirk curled at the edge of Kaname's lips. "You two look nice together." The Pureblood commented. Kaname could sense the tension in the room upon noticing Senri's narrowed eyes and decided to redirect the mood.

"Thank you, Lord Kaname." Senri said, bowing his head.

Kianna respectfully bowed her head to Senri's cousin as well. "Thank you very much." She politely replied. The idea Kaname is completely supportive of their relationship has always been comforting to Kianna.

"Now that everyone is present, let's be on our way." Kaname said, leading the way.

All the night class students eventually arrived at the entrance to the ballroom. Kaien stood outside dressed in traditional Victorian Headmaster attire for the ball. He happily greeted the night class students as they passed him to enter the ballroom. Kianna assumed Kaien must be ensuring no one besides Cross Academy students attended the event. Otherwise, he was making sure all his beloved students were present.

Night Class students with dates walked into the ballroom in pairs, one by one. Many day class students were already in the room working the ball. They all served food and drinks at the buffet tables. Meanwhile, various professors for night and day class students were scattered about. It seemed they were chaperoning the dance.

Day Class students gushed and gawked over the night class students entering the ballroom. Kianna even noticed some day class girls shooting her some jealous looks, but she ignored them. Unfortunately, she knew she would have to leave Senri's side at some point to help with the work. But Kianna figured Yuki or Sayori would let her know when her shift was due. Until then, she would enjoy her time with her boyfriend.

Kianna then allowed her eyes to scan her surroundings. Since her two day class friends were on her mind, it seemed Yuki and Sayori had yet to arrive. Then again, the ballroom was still very much empty. This told Kianna the majority of the day class had yet to appear.

Regardless, Kianna looked up at Senri and said, "Before the ball officially starts, l want you to meet my father."

Requested: @nunezs-stuff

[daevastanner]

C H A P T E R O N E

“Humans, not places, make memories.”

― Ama Ata Aidoo

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open. Overhead, a canopy of navy fabric made his current location apparent. The shadowsinger was in the private residence he kept on the outskirts of Velaris. The small home he had bought himself when he had received his first payment as Rhysand’s Spymaster.

With a grunt, Azriel propped himself up on his elbows on his bed. He found that his wings were splayed beneath him and his chest was bare. He blinked himself out of his drowsy stupor and struggled to recall the events that had led him here. He wasn’t in the practice of staying in his private home often, usually choosing to reside in the river house or townhouse or even the House of Wind.

His fatigued limbs protested as he tried to sit up straighter, his vision blurring when he attempted to take in his surroundings. He only managed to glean that it was early morning by the sun rising in the eastern window. The shadowsinger doubted that was the reason for his extreme fatigue though. The exhaustion he felt ran bone deep. Even his shadows seemed content to continue resting.

“Finally,” a voice drawled.

Squinting, Azriel slowly turned his attention to the west side of the room. In a plush, green armchair he didn’t recall buying sat Rhysand. Judging by the stubble gathering on his jaw and weariness in his violet gaze, he’d been there quite a while.

“How long was I out?” Azriel asked, his voice rough.

Rhysand sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Two days. The artifact did a number on you, brother.”

A brief flash of the milky white orb in question flashed in Azriel’s mind. A hazy recollection of his scarred hand extending to snatch it off its deteriorating podium, nestled within the depths of the prison. The center of his forehead ached as he attempted to dive deeper into the memories.

“Did I get it?” Azriel asked. “The artifact?”

Rhys nodded with a heavy head. “Your shadows fetched Cassian after you claimed it. He found you passed out on the floor with it wrapped in a cloth. Elain has the artifact now – she’s able to use it without touching it thankfully.”

The urge to protect the middle-Archeron from the effects of the artifact had a sobering effect on the shadowsinger. Immediately, Azriel’s pain and exhaustion were secondary. Elain must not handle the orb, he didn’t care how much clearer it made her visions of the future. No insight into any potential threats to Prythian were worth her coming under harm.

Azriel grunted, swinging his legs out of the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress and face Rhysand. “I have to find her.”

The High Lord arched a dark brow. “Who?”

Azriel fought off the urge to groan, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “I know you don’t like it, Rhys, but she’ll be worried about me.”

“Elain?” Rhys asked, his tone genuinely puzzled.

Rhys had made it very clear at Solstice that he did not want Azriel anywhere near the middle-Archeron, a demand that Azriel had met with–

Searing pain lanced his skull, so intense he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Elain. Where is she?” Azriel ground out.

There was a long pause. No doubt, Rhys was declining to answer in an effort to quash any attempts Azriel would make at wooing the third sister. But Elain had a right to know Azriel was safe, regardless of Rhysand’s meddling. He forced himself to lower his hands from his eyes and meet his brother’s gaze with the ferocity he knew only the High Lord of Night could match.

But when he locked stares with his brother, he found no anger or protest. Only sheer confusion. Instantly, Azriel’s expression softened, his brows pulling together in similar bewilderment.

Finally Rhysand answered. “She’s back in the Day Court with Helion.” A pause as Rhysand’s throat worked a swallow. “And with Lucien. Her mate.”

Back in the Day Court? Back? Why did Rhys speak as though that was where Elain belonged? Why did he make it sound as though she didn’t reside in Velaris any longer? The more he puzzled over the phrasing, the more his head ached. Instead, Azriel chose to latch onto that last word. Mate.

He pushed himself to stand with a grunt. “Elain doesn’t give a damn if Lucien is her mate. Neither should you.” The spymaster wobbled on his feet then snapped in his wings, trying to regain his center of gravity – Rhys rose with him.

The High Lord reached out a steadying hand, lines of worry creasing his forehead. Azriel held up a halting palm, skewering his brother with a look. He lamented the slumbering shadows on his shoulders; they could’ve aided him in appearing more imposing to Rhysand in his currently vulnerable state.

“Sooner or later, you’ll all have to accept that the Cauldron isn’t always right, Rhys,” Azriel said, his fists clenched at his sides now. “And not everyone needs a mate to belong to someone.”

Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets, canting his head and studying Azriel closely with those unnerving violet eyes. Through the pounding in his head, Azriel could feel the vague sensation of his brother creeping around the vestiges of his memories. Too tired to ward him off, Az instead leveled the half-Illyrian with another withering glare.

For a moment, Rhysand seemed unphased, then his face drained of color. “Shit,” muttered the High Lord.

Doing his best to maintain his composure, Azriel lifted his chin. “What?”

The High Lord exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Azriel, you’re… I need to call for Madja.”

Azriel snorted at that, folding his arms over his chest. “We can agree on that. I need a head tonic because–”

“Azriel, stop,” Rhys snapped, his gaze hardening on the shadowsinger. “You’re… There’s something in your mind. It’s…” he trailed off again, shaking his head.

Azriel didn’t probe, only maintained his cold, expectant gaze on the High Lord.

Eventually, Rhysand continued, his voice both grave and tired. “You’re missing some memories.”

Heart stuttering briefly, the spymaster’s eyes swept Rhys from head to foot discerningly. He mastered himself before speaking. “What memories?”

“I swear to the Mother, Cassian, that if you don’t step aside right now, I’ll mow you down…” a female voice growled from outside the bedroom.

Both Azriel and Rhysand’s heads snapped to the mahogany door that led into the hallway. The voice Azriel heard was familiar, yet completely unknown to him. Like the lyrics of a childhood lullaby lost to time, where you could only recall the melody.

“Rhys is going to admit you the second he’s finished ensuring Azriel wasn’t affected by the artifact, Gwyn,” Cassian’s voice said soothingly.

“Who’s that?” Azriel asked, pivoting to face the door.

Rhys took a hesitant step towards the voices, murmuring under his breath again, “Dammit.”

“I can feel him, Cassian. He’s awake. If it were Nesta, you wouldn’t let anything stop you,” that same, ardent female voice insisted.

Rhysand started stalking towards the door urgently, Azriel took a few hesitant steps after him, but maintained his distance.

“Berdara, if Azriel hurts you he’ll never forgive himself…”

Who in the Mother’s name was Gwyn? Who was Berdara? More importantly, who was she to Azriel that harming her would leave him inconsolably guilt-ridden? At least, according to Cassian it would.

Any attempt to discern an answer to those questions made Azriel wince in pain as a panging sensation rattled his skull.

“Azriel won’t hurt me, Cassian. You know better,” the female replied, her voice gentler. “I am his mate, after all.”

Azriel’s eyes went wide as saucers. That was his mate out there? He had a mate? Her name was Gwyn? Or Berdara? She knew Cassian?

Black spots dotted his vision as pain rocked through his head again – he clenched his jaw, biting back a groan.

The bedroom door swung open.

In the hall, Azriel could see Cassian lumbering away, head hung.

But in the foreground of the doorway, stood the most enchanting creature Azriel had ever seen.

Read the rest on Ao3 or Wattpad

Teaser for chapter 2 on my IG @ readthesefics Tuesday