#and he's looking far off into the distance'

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand. 

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how. 

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle. 

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were. 

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. 

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest. 

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.” 

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you. 

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside. 

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition. 

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’ 

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter. 

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #rosinante x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #x reader #blackbeard x reader #marshall d teach x reader #zen writes

[surielstea]

Wrapping Wounds

1k celebration request

Pairing: Bodyguard!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: Azriel gets hurt and reader feels guilty, so she visits his bedroom and doesn’t plan on leaving until he’s healed.

Warnings: mention of attempted kidnapping (it’s all fluff though)

1.8k words

My bodyguard was injured. Which is a surprisingly unusual occurrence. Azriel never got hurt, so it was a shock when I opened my bedroom door this morning only to find the grand hallway vacant, void of any brooding male guarding anyone from entering my bedroom. He was always there to greet me with a slight nod of his head, his shadows bringing me a cup of coffee before I could even mutter a word.

Instead, this morning I was met with an entirely different face, one I recognized but hadn't been expecting.

"Where's Azriel?" Is the first thing I say to Cassian, an equally intimidating male.

"He's injured at the moment, I'll be guarding you today." Cassian's words were dutiful and I can't help but frown. I loved Cass, sure, but I couldn't help but wonder why Azriel was hurt.

"So he's in the medical tents still healing?" I ask, stepping from my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

"I believe he's in his bedroom, but you're not allowed—" He starts but he doesn't get to finish before I winnow out of his sight and straight into Azriel's bedroom.

It was wrong to use my abilities against Cassian who was incapable of winnowing but it wasn't as if I was breaking any rules, just visiting an injured friend.

Azriel was sitting on his bed, currently rewrapping a wound on his abdomen.

"You can't be in here," Azriel stated without even taking a glance up at me, yet he still knew. I had to hold back from rolling my eyes at his absurd comment.

"I've been in a male's bedroom before," I scoff but he and I both knew that wasn't what he was talking about. We had been toeing the line of unspoken feelings for far too long now, mere inches away from being more than just professionals but he refused to cross that line and didn't want to drag me with him either.

I gather my skirts in my hands and close the distance between us, crouching down beside him and taking over his job of dressing his own wound, replacing his calloused, scarred hands with my manicured, delicate ones.

"You're not paid enough to get stabbed on my behalf," I grumble beneath my breath, my hair falling into my face as I focus on keeping pressure on the wound.

"Is everything about money to you, princess?" He teased and I just huffed, flicking my gaze up at him in a glare. He mirrors it with a quirk of his lip.

"Nevertheless, I'm making my brother give you a raise," I claim, looking back down to the gauze in my hands, deciding to look into his hazel eyes was too much to bear if I could not have them on me at all times. "Tell me what happened," I say, my words coming out more demanding than I anticipated but I was frustrated with myself for falling so damned hard for someone who was simply paid to be around me.

"So demanding," He grumbles, craning his neck to the side as if he needed to stretch, already tired from this conversation. "All you need to know is that some guys were trying to, take you last night," He gritted out like it was hard for him to stomach, but I brushed it off as the pain from his wound. "And I wasn't going to let them," He finished and I frowned, keeping my eyes pinned to the wrap in my hands as I tightly secured it with a clasp.

"It doesn't hurt too much, does it?" I say, looking up at him. He reaches towards me, his large calloused hand coming to my jaw and then pushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

"It's sweet that you're worried about me, but I’m kind of paid to be your bodyguard." He looks down at me with a stoic expression, a hint of devotion wandering behind his gaze.

“You don’t have to remind me,” I mumble, looking away from his gaze and down to his wound, the one that’s my fault. "If I was there, I would've offered myself rather than see you get hurt," I confess and his brows form a line, an angry frown pulling at his lips.

"Don't say that," He uttered. "No one will ever deserve you, no matter how good of a fight they put up." He claims and a comforting warmth blooms in the depths of my chest. I swallow, rising fully but still having to look up at him.

"I think you put up a pretty good fight," I shrug suggestively and he shakes his head.

"I'm protecting you because it's my job, it's just business princess." He claims and I roll my eyes and sling my arms over his shoulders, which he doesn't back away from.

"Nuh-uh, admit it, you like me," I taunt with a smile spreading over my lips, able to read him like an open book as the corner of his lip twitches downward, a clear indicator that he was debating if he should say something he knew he’d later regret.

"You're technically not working right now, we wouldn't be breaking any rules," I add and he only gazes down at me with a faux pitiful look in his eyes, like a rich man too selfish to donate to my charity.

"I don't think that's how it works." He blinks ever so slowly, taking all of this moment in.

"Az," I huff, walking my fingers down his bare chest.

"Princess," He mocks my tone, catching my wrist in his hand before it could get too low. "Cassian will be in here any second," He gestures for me to step backward with a jerk of his head. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck instead, rebelling his commands and doing the exact opposite. But he didn't push me away, and he didn't complain when I slowly situated myself over his lap.

"Please," I utter, begging was foreign to me but I'd do it if it meant he'd finally just let me love him.

"Please, what?" He plays dumb and this time I do actually roll my eyes, one of my hands going into his hair.

"Please, can you just stop being my bodyguard for five seconds and be my boyfriend?" I mumble and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"It's kind of a package deal," He shrugs, his eyes glinting with amusement, silently laughing at my frustration.

"My gods, just kiss me already," I sigh and a rare grin grows over his features, revealing dimples.

"Always, so demanding," He muttered while leaning in, cupping my jaw in his large hand and pulling me into him.

Our lips connect like the last two pieces of a puzzle I've been working on for years, slotting together perfectly. His other hand was slipping up the slit in my pastel dress, resting at my upper thigh, gripping it occasionally and I can't help but smile at his lips at the action.

He slips his tongue into my mouth at the first opportunity he gets, craving to taste me further than just my lips. I wrap my arms tighter around the back of my neck, attempting to press myself as close as possible, needing the proximity of his warmth more than anything else.

He winced, biting slightly at my bottom lip in silent warning and I realized I pressed against his wound.

"Sorry," I murmur as he moves away from my lips and towards my jaw, kissing a trail down it all the way to my neck.

"We should probably stop," Azriel murmured as if he wasn't the one sucking hickeys to my neck and holding me down with his hand on my thigh.

"Probably," I say, slightly breathless as I recover from the pain of him pulling away from my lips. "I don't want to go," I sigh. "I'm safe in here with you, I don't need any other bodyguard," I explain and he smiles against my neck at my words, kissing the area softly.

A knock on the door makes me jump but he barely flinched, pulling away from my neck and looking at where he had been sucking, admiring the forming mark like an artist staring at their canvas.

"I have an idea, hide behind the door." He gestures to the door and I nod with a cheeky grin, scrambling off his lap and to where he told me to go.

"Az, you in there?" Cassian's voice was heard through the door.

Instead of replying, Azriel simply swung the door open with a tired smile. From my position, I could still see Azriel, but I was out of Cassian's line of sight— unless, of course, he decided to enter the room.

"Is the Princess in here?" I can hear the slight panic in Cassian's voice but Azriel doesn't falter when he replies.

"You already lost her?" The male scoffed, slightly amused.

"It's not my fault, she saw I wasn't you and winnowed away. I figured she'd be with you." I couldn't see the male but I knew his brows were bunched. I sort of felt bad for the male, I debated telling him I was going to stay with Azriel for the rest of the day so he should go far away unless he wanted to hear some things he shouldn't, but I didn't, I let Azriel handle it.

"Calm down, she's probably at the library. This castle is crawling with guards, she's safe here," Azriel reassured and Cassian must've nodded because there was no reply.

"I'm going back to bed, no more interruptions I'm trying to heal," Azriel shooed him away.

"Right, thanks Az," Cassian murmurs then a heavy pair of footsteps recede down the hall and Azriel closes the door, turning to me.

"Having affairs with your protectee and lying to your colleagues, how many rules are you going to break today?" I tease, lifting onto the tips of my toes and twining my arms around the back of his neck.

"I can always ask him to come back," He retorts and I frown, pecking his lips so quickly he barely had time to return the action.

"You wouldn't dare give me up so easily," I claim confidently, my fingers twining into his hair. "You like me too much."

"Way too much." He leans closer, his nose brushing mine. He looks at me for a moment, admiring my features from such a short distance, but as soon as his eyes flick down to my lips he can't help but lean in, our lips pressing together and somehow he made it feel like we've been doing this for decades it was all so natural.

"I'm staying in here all day, I hope you know that," I mumble and he pulls away a fraction to meet my gaze.

"But how will I ever get my rest to heal?" He sighs dramatically and I chuckle.

"I'll tell you what, you can sleep as long as you want, you just have to cuddle with me," I offer, and a soft grin forms on his lips.

"Sounds perfect to me." He closes the distance between us once more.

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#suriels tea #acotar #fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #x reader #sarah j maas #request #azriel #acomaf #1k celebration #x you fluff #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #x reader fluff #fluff #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar au #bodyguard x princess #bodyguard au #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #alternate universe #cassian #high lord rhysand #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #azriel fanfic

[doe-eyed-and-desperate]

Trespassing on harras of centaur's land and becoming their free use whore as penance.

You knew the woods were dangerous, as a child you heard stories about people going in and never coming back. But as you grew older, you started believing it less and less. Chalking the disappearances up to wolves or some other wildlife, and in a sense. You weren't wrong. But you're an adult now, you don't have anyone telling you no.

So, one day, you set out to hike through the woods. The hike starts off fine, the most you see is some hoof marks in the dirt, which you assume is just from deer, even though they do look a bit large, and you roll your eyes at the memories of all of those stories you were told as a kid. Telling yourself you were right and there's absolutely nothing to worry about.

After a bit you hear thundering through the woods and freeze, recognizing it was the sound of hooves. You attempt to figure out where its coming from so you can get out of away, thinking it's probably just the herd of deer that made those tracks. But no matter how hard you try, you can't find the direction, it sounds like their coming from all sides, and they're coming fast.

You try not to panic, becuase, deer or not, a stampede would be dangerous. You start hearing things besides the hooves, something like voices, but you haven't seen anyone else out here. Yet, as you look into the distance you think you can make out the shape of men. Before you have time to rationalize any of this your surrounded by at least a hundred centaurs. But thats impossible, right?

Apparently not because their hands grabbing you sure feel real. A centaur, who looks about mid 40s, comes to the front and stares into your soul before turning and deliberating with the ones surrounding him, too low for your ears to pick up. You're hyperventilating at this point, losing your mind because this can't be real. Why didn't you listen? You're going to end up dead like the rest of them.

They finally break away and he nods to the rest of the group. You have no idea what that means, but they must, as they start groping your body. Grabbing your tits, shoving fingers in your pussy, you thrash but try as you might, they're way too strong for you to over power them. So you resort to screaming, hoping someone would hear and try to help. All that achieved was a look of annoyance and a harsh slap on the thigh by one of the men.

The older centaur who gave the order comes forward and easily lifts you, keeping you still under him, you feel his hard cock sliding up and down your slit, slowly pushing the head in. You whimper and try to move away, knowing how massive his dick is, but his grip is too tight and without warning he slams himself deep inside. Groaning at the tight, warm, feeling of your cunt, he starts fucking without an ounce of care for your body. You lift your head slightly and watch as his massive cock bulges through your stomach with each thrust and your body decides to betray you, clenching around his cock. This only spurs him on, fucking you faster as you attempt to bite back your moans. It's been far too long since he's felt a cunt like this so after only a minute or so he grunts and fills your cunt with his thick, hot, cum. Pulling you off his cock and laying you back down when he's done breeding you.

You try to pretend you didn't enjoy it and let out a sigh of relief that it's all over, only for that illusion to be shattered immediately as a different centaur takes the other man's place, picking you back up so you're in line with his dick. Pushing it in just as relentlessly as the previous, keeping the centaurs cum from leaking out of you and ready to fill you with more. You look around at all of the centaurs surrounding you, knowing you're going to be stuffed over and over for hours with nothing you can do about it, not that you even want too anymore.

#can you tell that im too scared to write dialogue??? #considering you all ate up the last one #mother has decided to feed you #teratophillia #terato #centaur #monsterfucker #monster fucker #terat0philliac #monster x human #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x female

[lis-likes-fics]

The Kinder Beast

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, attempted sexual assault, groping, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, technically coercion, thus dub!con, virginity loss, p in v sex, creampie... A/N: I wrote like at least half of this in one night and then stopped to sleep and ruined my streak. This was supposed to be done like three days ago but I had a bit of a menty b for like...a full day and that didn't happen. Anyway, enjoy me (finally) getting around to writing for Aemond. Thanks! <3

He was always watching you.

Your skin crawled with the feeling of his gaze burning holes into your flesh. Always on you, always watching, daring to get you alone. You could never escape him.

You feel it at dinner as you pour cups of wine, one cup far more than the others. You feel it after dinner while you help the other servants to clean the table. Sometimes it is almost as though you can feel more than one gaze.

It haunts you.

Even as you're alone in the servants’ chambers where all the servants of the royal family slept after everyone has found sleep, you feel it. It's a horrifying thing, to feel so vulnerable so often.

You keep your head down at dinner, holding a pitcher of wine steady in your grasp and hoping against all hope that he would forget you were there. But the gods seemed to laugh at you and your naïve hopes.

“Aye,” he calls, raising his cup. “Serving girl.”

You lay your eyes on Prince Aegon, moving quickly as you cover the distance between you. Every inch demolished is an ounce of your bravery pouring down a drain until you are standing right by him.

You have to be careful tipping the pitcher, lest you spill the expensive drink all over his clothes, a hundred times more expensive than the wine. Though your fingers grip it tight and your palms shake the metal, you successfully manage your task with no issue.

It's as you're fixing the pitcher from its tilt when a greedy hand gropes the cheek of your ass. Your whole body jumps and you close your eyes, pretending all is well and that you are simply imagining the whole ordeal. You breathe in, straightening up and wishing he would let you go. Again, the gods seem to defy your every hope as Prince Aegon's hand begins to discreetly rub.

“Girl.”

Your gaze shoots across the table to an icy one unlike the greed in his brother's eyes. He watches you, his eye dark and his posture so full of poise and elegance—contrasting with Prince Aegon's jaded, dulled position beside you.

Prince Aemond raises his cup toward you, inclining his head back as he sends a gentler order. “More wine, please.”

You nod, keeping your gaze to the ground as you were meant to, and you make your way to his side. Prince Aegon's hand is forced to let go of you, and a weight is lifted off your shoulders—even if the heat of his hungry gaze bore holes into the back of your head that no amount of food or wine would satiate.

Prince Aemond sets his cup down, and you fill it. And when you've finished, he nods softly. “Thank you.”

For a split moment, your eyes meet. Prince Aemond's gaze is much more considerate than his brother's, but it is no less intense. His stare is dark, dangerous. He watches you, and he doesn't stop watching. Just as Prince Aegon never halts his scrutiny, neither does his brother's—at least when you're in the room. Prince Aemond, if nothing else, is kind enough not to stare when he's not in the room.

Prince Aegon never looks away.

You feel like a bird, a bird locked in a cage to be forced to sing, to be looked at and spectated until they lose interest and snap your neck to replace it with something better, something newer and prettier than a common songbird.

Sometimes you wish they would just go on and be done with it.

“You're welcome, my prince.” Your voice is small, a whisper. Though he seems kinder, the both of them scare you to death…one considerably more than the other.

Even now, your hands tremble, the clinking of the cups on the tray you carry echoing through the hollow walls. You take a steadying breath, willing your heart to calm as you assure yourself that you'll be fine.

The door you stand before is large, imposing. The room behind it is suffocating, it's dark and full of dangers that make you want to run. The idea of crossing this threshold into a world beholding so much danger and threat leaves you shaking. But you can't leave. How you wish you could leave…

You knock carefully to announce your presence before you push open the doors and hope for the best.

You take a step inside, glancing around anxiously. “My prince?” you call out as steadily as you can. Your body grows cold at the sight of him, lounging back in a chair with a cup in his hand.

Prince Aegon smiles devilishly at you, his eyes slightly sunken into his face, marked by exhaustion and drunkenness. “Ah,” he says, gesturing toward you with a coarse hand as you continue to walk further inside, keeping your head down. “She's brought my tea.”

The sound of a second voice washes over you in a sea of relief, and you briefly thank the gods for granting such rare mercy upon you. “It's a shame it shall go to waste,” he says. When you glance his way, the sight of Prince Aemond fills your gaze. His eye watches you as he sits back, and his gaze never wavers. “You and I both know you prefer your wines and ales.”

You walk to the table separating the brothers, setting the tray down. Just as you do, Prince Aegon rises to his feet, his cup in one hand as he walks over. You're nearly shaking, staring at the floor as you struggle to find your voice the closer he gets.

You have to clear your voice in order to speak. “Is- Is there anything else you need…my prince?”

He smiles, coming to stand at your side, his face so close to your cheek. You can hear the way he smells you, his sigh blowing against your shoulder. “Yes, there may be something you can help with…” You shudder, staring at the floor and refusing to look his way.

Without turning away from you, the prince speaks. “Dear brother, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

You close your eyes, willing the tears away as you try not to appear weaker than you already do. You flinch when you feel his knuckle brush your cheek.

Prince Aemond hums, clasping his hands in his lap. “But I'm quite comfortable here,” he says matter-of-factly.

You glance up at him, a glimmer of hope in your eyes as you look upon him. He's got the smallest grin on his face, but he doesn't even look at you. He watches his brother as his annoyed glare darts his way.

Prince Aegon looks like he'll fight his brother. His hand drops from your cheek. The breath you let out is silent. “Well, there are plenty of comfortable places in this castle, Aemond. Perhaps you might find yourself there instead.”

He shrugs. “But watch how well my boots fit perfectly when I place them here.” He lifts his feet, one after the other, to rest on the table near the tea tray. Again, he grins at his brother.

“Well, boots belong on the floor.”

“A shame for my feet, really. They do so enjoy a rest every once in a while.”

Prince Aegon's frustration is clear. He rolls his eyes and looks at you, a glimmer in his eyes that frightens you. He lowers his voice to a murmur. “Then perhaps you and I can go somewhere a little more private to…speak.”

You open your mouth to say something—you don't know what, likely just incoherent stammers of little value. Prince Aemond, it seems, is your ultimate savior.

“Unfortunately,” he interrupts, “that is not possible either. You see, she is busy.”

You both look at him to elaborate. Prince Aegon glances around the messy room and shakes his head. “I don't see a job needing tending to.”

You could name a few, but you really just want to leave.

Prince Aemond is unfazed. “I do,” he counters. He looks at you. His gaze betrays no sentiment, simply focus and a bit of amusement at frustrating his brother. “Girl, you are to take His Highness’ boots over there and shine them until they are brighter than the sun.” He tilts his head. “We can't have the prince walking around with dirty boots… Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, standing a little straighter. “Yes, my prince.”

He nods. “And they are especially disgusting, you might acquire some help while you do.”

You don't know why he is helping you, but who are you to question him when he is being so kind?

“Yes, my prince.”

He turns away from you then, reaching forward to grab a cup of tea from the tray. As he stirs it, he hums. “Make haste then.”

You move quickly, nodding as you break away from Prince Aegon's presence. He huffs, rolling his eyes as he watches his brother. You snatch up the boots, stopping by the door as you leave the both of them, not daring to look either in the eye. “My prince… my prince.”

You flee, and the door closes loudly behind you as you do. Aegon turns to his brother, shaking his head as he moves to sit once more. “My boots are not disgusting.”

Aemond hums. “You haven't seen your boots.”

~

The sound of fire and laughter and music fills the air. It's dark out, so dark it would be hard to see without the giant bonfire raging at the center. It's the most fun you've had in a while. Queen Alicent released you and a few of the other servants from duty for the night to enjoy the festivities as gratitude for hard work.

“Come on! You're no fun when you do not join the dance!” Emalia urges, pulling lightly on your arm so you would come with her and the others.

You lean back on your heels, laughing as you shake your head and balance your cup in your hand. “No! I do not need to make a fool of myself in front of the whole dynasty by tripping over my feet and falling flat on my face, Emailia.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please! Nobody is watching you.”

You wish that had been true.

“Besides,” she smirks at you slyly. “You may attract a man's eye.”

“All the more reason not to go.” She groans, unimpressed by your insistence of remaining a total bore. You smile, letting her go. “Go dance. I am perfectly content to stand here and watch.”

She hums, giving up as she turns on her heel to leave. You laugh lightly to yourself. As you cradle your cup in your hand, you raise it to your lips for a drink.

You'd been alone for no more than a minute, watching people holding hands as they danced around the roaring flames, before you had, in fact, caught a man's eye.

“Don't you look pretty tonight?”

You fumble your cup as it falls to the ground, spilling its contents over the dirt. Chills rush down your spine, devouring every slip of comfort in your body and leaving you cold. You keep your eyes down, staring at the wine in your cup as you try to find your voice buried in your distress.

His voice comes from behind you, a dark hum haunting your being. You try to keep your voice level, but it's hard when your entire body feels like it's shaking. “Th-Thank you, my prince,” you croak, your voice as quiet as can be.

Prince Aegon stands so close, you feel his body brush yours. You try not to tremble, but it's a useless task. His eyes bore into the side of your face, and you feel the heat of his gaze devouring the rest of you.

“So pretty, I just want to…steal you away.” He steps closer, his lips right by your ear as he whispers in a low voice, “Would you like that? For me to steal you away from here?” You squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to remain calm. “We could do anything, just the two of us.”

You swallow thickly, plastering a wobbly smile on your face. “I'm sure it would be…a lovely opportunity my prince, but..” You open your eyes again and take the smallest step away, turning slowly toward him. He steps even closer, hardly a foot away now. “But, um, I have to stay here with my friends… They'll be missing me if I go.”

Foolishly hoping to the gods that they hear your plea, you're met with the sight of his dark gaze. Your breath hitches as you take a step back. He pursues, shrugging lightly as he tilts his head.

“Or I could order you,” he says. “If I say you must go, then they cannot argue. I am the prince, after all.” He smirks, lifting his hand to touch your cheek. You flinch, but it only makes him chuckle. “Would you like me to order you, pretty girl? To take that burden off your shoulders?”

The way he says it… “pretty girl”. It makes your skin crawl. You wish you'd just gone and danced, or never shown up at all.

Your mouth opens, but words are very hard to find as you struggle to speak. “I…”

You can't refuse him. You can't send him away and tell him that the thought of his hands on you makes you want to vomit. You could be punished, killed. There's no version of this where you come out safely.

His gaze burns into your skin. His hand raises to pinch your chin, and his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. As you struggle to find an answer, to find a way out of this very dangerous situation, Aegon feels another gaze upon his own skin.

He turns his head, his eyes searching for the object of his sudden unease.

A frown overtakes his lips as his glare locks onto another. For a moment, he keeps staring. It's a silent battle of wits, a battle of will. He should be able to have whatever he wants. He's the fucking Targaryen prince, and what he wants is your bound-to-be-virgin cunt wrapped around his cock. He is owed whatever he desires.

But this icy glare is one he cannot withstand. With a huff, he drops his hand from your face. You hold your breath, glancing up carefully to see what has changed.

“But alas,” he mumbles. “It seems my mother is calling me.”

The shock is written all over your face, a mix of fear and surprise that has his desire for you growing in his belly. He smirks again, taking one last step into whatever space you had left as he takes your hand.

You purse your lips as he eyes bore into yours. Prince Aegon raises your knuckles to his face, slotting his nose over them as he inhales your sweet scent. You shudder as he presses his lips to the round bumps of your hand. You jump when he nips them.

His eyes peek up at you as he grins. “I will be seeing you.” He drops your hand.

You swallow thickly as he takes a couple steps back. Tentatively taking your skirts in your hands, you curtsy. “My prince.”

He hums, and then he's gone. You stare after him, letting out a relieved breath as you come back to your senses. You bend slowly, retrieving your cup from the ground as you try to catch your breath.

When you rise to your feet, your gaze is caught by that of the prince across the field from you. He flickers at the other side of the bonfire, his gaze just as hot and just as burning as the fire itself.

He stands there and stares at you a few seconds more. Then, just like his brother, he disappears into the night.

You're left standing there, frightened to the very base of your being.

~

Quite frankly, you despise the training grounds.

It's dirty and full of spectators eager to drink in the sight of sparring princes. It even rained earlier that night, so you are left to stand in the filthy mud, holding a tray of water in your hands and waiting for the imminent end of this session.

They always train so early. Sure, you would have been awake either way, but your sleepiness mixed with the anxiety of the princes (mostly Prince Aegon) is not a good mix.

He keeps looking at you.

Prince Aegon's eyes follow you when he's not on an active attack. You do your best to keep your eyes on the wine, hoping it would keep his gaze from you. But it's hard to do so when the lingering heat of his watchful eye burns you from out to in.

You can't tell if you're grateful or not for Prince Aemond's seriosity in his training. On one hand, his hard focus on his opponent means he's not watching you. But on the other…that means Prince Aegon is not too inclined to keep his eyes forward.

You feel your arms growing tired the longer you stand there. With a sigh, you turn toward a table behind you, setting the tray down to offer your arms reprieve. You linger for a moment, closing your eyes to breathe before switching out the two pitchers of water to seem busy.

When you turn again, you nearly drop the tray onto the ground. The smallest yelp erupts from your throat as you're met with Prince Aegon's dark stare.

“Forgive me, my prince,” you nearly stutter.

He hums, grinning lightly. “That's alright.”

You duck your head a little, balancing the tray in one hand and refilling his cup with the other. You pass it carefully to him.

“Many thanks.”

You give a short nod. “You're welcome, prince.”

He watches you over the top of his cup as he takes generous sips. He never looks away. It’s awful, being forced to see. You look away from his intense eyes, finding it increasingly difficult to do what he wants. But this works for him either way. He loves to see you cower…

Prince Aegon sets the cup back on the tray. Not anticipating the action, your weak grasp tilts and sends the tray askew. The cup tips off the side, and your eyes widen in panic as you watch it spill its contents all over the front of his gear.

A terrible gasp rips from your throat at the sight of it, Prince Aegon's gear drenched in water, his cup on the muddy ground, you standing there unable to figure out what to do other than grovel at his feet.

The words stumble uncontrollably from your lips, drenched in utter terror at his response. “Oh, gods! I am so sorry. That was an accident. I didn't mean to–!”

But Prince Aegon is not angry. In fact, he's amused. He chuckles to silence you. “Come now, pretty girl. No need for that.”

You stare up at him, your eyes clouded by unshed tears invoked by such sudden fear. He takes a step closer, in permanent violation of the space you have to your person. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks. “You and I can sort this out. Just the two of us… in my chambers… tonight.” He tilts his head. “What do you say?”

You freeze, staring wide-eyed at the prince as you struggle to find a way to get out of this. You can't refuse him, you can't. But he isn't going to let you go. How are you meant to shed this man from your life? He has implemented himself and ensured there was no way to escape him, not without force.

Your mouth drops open but no words come out. But, as it seems to be like clockwork, temporary salvation settles over you.

“My prince!”

You both turn your head, laying eyes on Ser Criston Cole as he holds onto Prince Aegon’s training sword. He offers it to him. “Leave the poor girl alone, and come fight your brother.”

Prince Aegon rolls his eyes, swatting a dismissive hand at his knight as he turns back to you. His smirk returns, if only for a moment. “Will I see you again?” he wonders.

“Prince Aegon!” He grunts. “Leisure is the death of men.”

“I’m coming!”

He looks back at you, setting his frustration to the side for just a moment. You’re always interrupted, there’s always something requiring attention. But not tonight. No, tonight…he would have what he wants.

He tears his gaze away to stalk back toward his knight and his brother. Ser Criston hands him his sword. Your eyes shift, and you find Prince Aemond…just as you always seem to do.

He watches you—just for a single second. A single second that always seems to last so much longer. He takes you in before blinking away, as though he’d never laid his eye on you to begin with.

You duck your head and try to forget the whole thing.

You duck your head and pray to the gods that Prince Aegon will forget the whole thing…

~

“Girl.”

You close your eyes as you stop walking, planting your feet in the middle of the dimly lit hall. You hold your breath as you turn, bowing your head and properly addressing the man with a curtsey, a basket of sheets in hand. “My prince.”

Prince Aegon’s eyes are nearly as dark as the night surrounding the castle. They always seem so…consuming. Consuming in a way that begs for breath in depleted lungs. Consuming in a way that cries out for an end to the constant burning of eternal fire. You stare at the floor.

He crosses the space between you before he speaks. “I didn’t see you in my chambers.” He stands right in front of you now, generous with the couple of feet he distances you with—though he does not have much of a choice with the way you hold the basket between you.

You had hoped you’d been sly with your avoidance the night before. After he was dressed for dinner, you made quick work of tidying his chambers before you went to attend with the other servants to watch over the small feast with the royals. When he returned to his rooms, there was nothing else for you to do… You had no other reason to return, so you did not.

You had hoped he’d missed it.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry, my prince.”

“What kept you?” He steps forward, always stepping forward.

“My, um–” You struggle to come up with an answer quickly enough. “My-my errands. I was caught up with…with dinner.”

He tilts his head, not quite believing you as he continues his agonizingly slow advance. You find some solace, however, in his snail’s pace. It means every tiny little step you take away goes slightly unnoticed as you move to keep some distance between you and the prince.

“Well, dinner is over, and I require your assistance,” he insists. He raises his hands and takes the basket in his own hands. You try to keep your breath steady, but you’re hot with fear and anxiety. “I am your superior, am I not? You must obey me, and I say that you…” he takes your basket and drops it onto the ground without regard, walking farther past it, “...must come with me. We have a few wrongs we must right.”

When the cold feeling of the wall shoots up your spine, you’re frozen with fear. You nearly choke on your words, you struggle to even breathe correctly as you look around frantically for any sign of help. But it is so late, the castle is sleeping and any other servants awake at this time of night are preoccupied with their own tasks. Even if someone was awake, clouds cover every inch of the sky, and no one wishes to be bothered with the potential of rain in the open halls.

No one is going to help you.

“Forgive me, prince, but…” Your pulse is loud in your ear, you can hardly hear your words over it. You swallow thickly, speaking around your stutter, “I have… I have other duties.”

He’s getting frustrated now. He’s been denied you so many times now, too many times. You don’t expect him to display much patience anymore as he stands so close that your shoes touch and your arms are pinned to your chest. You can feel his breath on your face, thick with the permanent smell of wines and ales. His height over you is commanding, and you may just start crying before anything is done.

He speaks quietly, low. It’s a threat in the disguise of a reminder, and it hurts more than a slap to the face. “Your only duties, pretty girl, are to me.” He shakes his head gently. “I will not ask you again.”

His hands find your hips, and your whole body flinches at his touch. The smallest yelp drops from your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut. You’re shaking. You don’t actually realize it—there’s too much happening at one time—but you’re shaking. It feeds Prince Aegon’s hunger.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look him in the eye as you shake your head.

“I don’t want to.”

He tuts gently, shaking his head as a terrible grin takes his lips. He even chuckles, it’s the faintest sound but it’s a chuckle and it shakes your soul. “Such a pity,” he hums. He tilts his chin down and whispers. “You don’t have a choice.”

One of his hands raises to grasp your face, but you swat it away. Surprised by your protest, something flickers in his eyes, and you know you’ve made a mistake beyond hitting a prince. He tries again, faster this time, but you’re so full of adrenaline that you’re faster. You keep smacking his hands away, squirming vastly as you try to shed his hands from you. When he does not relent, for even a moment, pressing his hips into you just to pin you into the wall, you do the unspeakable.

You slap him. Your palm meets his cheek with a force that whips his head to the sound, and you pale as you watch his skin turn pink.

The most dangerous smirk crosses his lips. He finds great pleasure in your fight. It’s the first real fight you’ve put up since the beginning of his conquest. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling. His blood pumps at the prospect of a hunt.

He turns back to you slowly, watching you with eyes that have become so much darker. They’re like black tar, an oozing kind of look that melds into your skin and leaves you feeling like you’re going to die. Maybe you will.

His hands grab you so tightly that you can’t possibly move him away. You fight anyway, flailing your arms and legs and trying to call out for anyone to help. You know your sounds are echoing, you can hear your shouts bouncing off the walls and filling the night… But part of you knows that no one will come to help.

Even if they can hear you past the thick walls, no one will come to help you.

Because he’s the prince, and you are just a servant girl. What are you to keeping their lives?

Prince Aegon wrestles you to the ground and lays you on your back, despite your protests, despite your resistance. He forces you to the ground, takes your wrists in his hands, laughs when the tears spill. You argue for him to stop, to let you go, to leave you be. You hope and pray and beg for him to listen. You curse the gods for their cruelty—you curse the Mother for her lies.

He gathers your wrists to one hand, and you think you’ll be sick when his hand gropes your breast so roughly that it hurts. “I knew you would be fun, pretty girl.” He laughs, high off the thrill. “I’ve waited so long for this, it’s only fitting we make it last–”

A harsh grunt leaves his throat when your foot finds purchase at his leg. Using all the strength you have, you manage to land a kick. His hands loosen considerably, enough for you to yank yourself from his hold. Just to give yourself more time, you kick again. This time, you manage to find purchase at his side. A string of curses falls from his lips, but you don’t have time to listen to them.

As soon as you’re free, you stand to your feet and bolt down the hall. You don’t know if you’ve ever been faster, the way you speed through the corridors. Your heart thunders in your ears, your tears tickle your face, your breath scratches your throat. But you can hear him behind you.

It’s a stalking sound. That kind of sound that tells you he doesn’t waste strength trying to run after you. His pursuit is taunting, it’s haunting. It forces more sobs from you, and it makes it hard to see past the tears gathering in your eyes. You look behind yourself. It feels like he’s right there–

You run into something solid. Knocked to the ground, you grunt at the pain that blooms along your body at the fall. You open your eyes and look up to see what’s stopped your escape, and you feel a sudden wave of relief. It’s not a gaze that especially calms your nerves, but it’s enough to know that you might actually have a chance at safety.

“Prince Aemond!” you cry, moving to kneel before him as you duck your head. You stumble over your words, it’s so hard to speak past the fear, the pain in your throat, all of it. You do your best. “I-I’m sorry, you… Your brother, he’s chasing me and he-he’s trying to, to hurt me, and I–”

There’s no use in trying to speak coherently anymore. You break down into sobs, sobs full of broken rambles that are fueled by the emotions demolishing you. You look truly pathetic like this, you know you do—covered in tears, your lip wobbling, your chest heaving with desperate breaths.

Prince Aemond looks upon you, his face a mask of almost indifference. There’s a spark of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But, quite frankly, you don’t care. As long as he helps you. He’s been helping you all this time, surely he won’t turn his back now when you truly need him.

You don’t know what possesses you to grab his hand. You’re just glad he doesn’t seem upset when you do it. You hope he understands you when you beg, “Please don’t let him touch me, please!”

His taunting footsteps re-enter your mind as they come to a stop somewhere behind you. Your blood runs cold when you hear him.

“Brother.”

You startle, genuinely yelping when you scramble to your feet and rush to stand behind Prince Aemond, putting him between you and his brother and using him as your shield. To your sweet relief, the prince puts his hand out and holds your arm, keeping you behind him. Keeping you under his protection. You let out a shuddering sigh.

“Aegon,” he returns, his voice calm and measured. His gaze is unyielding, as it always is. You just hope that, as it always is, Prince Aegon is no match for it. “Are you tormenting this poor girl again?”

He laughs. “Tormenting? Heavens no. We’re just having a bit of fun,” his gaze shifts to you, “aren’t we?”

You press yourself more into Prince Aemond, hiding as best you can.

Prince Aegon can’t decide if he’s amused or annoyed. “And even if I was, the little thing put her hands on me.” He raises his brows. “These things can’t go unpunished.”

It’s silent for a moment as Prince Aemond contemplates something. He glances over his shoulder, not quite looking at you as he questions. “Is this true?”

You swallow thickly. You can’t lie. It’s the prince’s word against yours, and you did put your hands on him… If anyone finds out, you could—would be killed. Your voice wavers as you confess timidly. “Yes, my prince.”

Prince Aegon smiles. “You see? She admits it.” He takes a step forward. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Terror grips you. “No–!”

“Step away, brother.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at his brother with a furrowed brow. Unimpressed by his jest, he gives an empty laugh. “Excuse me?”

Prince Aemond tilts his head, raising a brow. “I do not believe a stutter passed my lips.” His hand lands on the hilt of his blade, a warning. “I said step away.”

Prince Aegon’s lips curl in a sneer, but his eyes…his eyes hold a predatory gaze that make you feel like you’re already trapped in the beast’s maw. “She’s my servant girl. I can do as I please. Give her to me now.”

He remains unfazed. “I do not believe I will be doing that.”

“Get out of my fucking way, Aemond.” He advances, his eyes on you as he comes forward to take what is rightfully his. You begin to protest, scared sobs falling from your lips as you panic.

But Prince Aemond takes his own step forward, but his gaze is much harder, and his determination is much more dangerous. “Touch her and we shall both be half blind, brother.” His threat is level and true, and you feel yourself alighting with more fear at the sound of it. He tilts his head. “Now run along. I’m sure you’ve got a pillar to milk.”

Rage covers every inch of Prince Aegon’s face. He huffs as he shakes his head, moving to cover the distance. “You fucking–”

Everything seems to go completely still for a moment. The air is stagnant and all breath ceases when Prince Aemond raises his blade to his brother’s face, the sharpest end only inches from his blue eye.

But Prince Aemond remains unfazed. His gaze is piercing, his posture is strong. His voice is low and level.

“Do it.”

They stare at one another, another silent standoff. You’re still holding your breath.

Prince Aegon’s lips curl into a smirk. A chuckle slips past his lips as he takes a step back. He yields.

“Well played, brother.” He sucks on a tooth, turning his dark gaze to you as his eyes glitter with apparent amusement. You’d hoped you were turning out to be more trouble than you’re worth, but the only thing you’ve achieved tonight was sweetening the prize. “Don’t worry, pretty girl… I will be seeing you soon.”

He spares one last glance at his brother before turning on his heel and walking away. Prince Aemond relaxes a bit, letting his blade return to its holster as he sighs gently. When the other prince has fully retreated, he hums.

“Come with me.”

He turns and walks down the hall. It takes you a moment to catch up as the adrenaline begins, slowly, to fade, replacing itself with an immense amount of exhaustion. You turn and walk after him, wiping your face to try to rid yourself of the tears that had begun to dry.

You follow him down the winding corridors until you eventually end up on the familiar path of his bedchambers. When you arrive, he opens the doors without a word. It’s implied that you follow, so you do. He closes the doors behind you, and you slowly come to stand in the room, feeling so awkward here. It’s so late, surely you need to leave and try to retire for the night, put this whole thing behind you for a few hours.

Your voice is timid, your fingers hesitant as you rub at your face. “Are you sure I should be here?”

The prince walks past you, trailing to a table where a bowl of now-cold water and a cloth sit. “You can be wherever I say you can be,” he says dismissively. As he wets the cloth, he beckons you closer. You have to urge your legs to move, dragging yourself over to sit in the chair he is gesturing for you to take. You don’t look at him, anxiety still whispering in your bones.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he tilts your chin up, beginning to carefully wipe away the tears that have covered your face.

It feels strange, but…nice. It’s nice to be taken care of. You’re too drained and too quieted to wonder why you’re being taken care of. You just want to calm down.

“No,” you mumble, sighing to calm your nerves. “Thank you.”

He continues to dab at your face. “Don’t thank me yet.”

You furrow your brows, looking up as you lock eyes. He’s…sort of pretty. You hadn’t really had the time or the mind to notice it before, but you don’t intend to make a habit of noticing. Once this night is over, you intend to forget it all.

“Beg pardon?” you wonder.

He stops what he’s doing, setting the cloth back in its bowl. Looking back at you, he tilts his head. His voice does not change. “You laid your hands on the prince.”

Just like that, the fear and anxiety return. You’re already tongue-tied as you try to defend yourself. “He was trying to hurt me–”

“It does not matter,” he says, as though it means nothing. And it does. He shrugs as he continues to watch you. “My brother has a reputation but he is the prince, and you are just a girl.” He hooks his knuckle under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him a little more. “Who do you think they will believe?”

Your breath picks up once more, a heavy thing in your chest that makes you feel like you may faint. You wet your lips, shaking your head. “It was an accident. I was scared, a-and I panicked. I–”

“It is not I who questions your words,” he hums. “It will be the public’s when they learn you tried to seduce the prince.”

Your heart pounds so heavily in your chest. You swear you can hear each thump against your ribs. “But I didn’t–” You pause at the look on his face. It is not him who questions your words. You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands clasped in your lap as you try to gather your thoughts. Your voice is so quiet when you speak again, weak with your defeat. “What am I to do?”

He seems pleased that you have begun to ask the right questions. He pulls away from you, removing his holster from around his waist to set his weapons down. “Even if he says nothing, you are still his servant, and I cannot be there at every turn to help you.” He looks at you once more, his eye unwavering. “One way or another, he will have his way with you… and no one will care when they hear your screams down the hall.”

You duck your head, fiddling with your hands as these terrible feelings eat away at you. But then he speaks again, carrying words that have you glued to his every sound. “There is a way, of course, that I can help you.”

You sigh. “I’ll do anything.”

The slightest smirk curves his lips. He walks back toward you, his steps so slow, so measured. Every step he takes fills you with a strange kind of dread. His voice is so soft, the opposite of the fear-inducing sound of Prince Aegon’s.

“My brother will care less about you if you are…” he raises his hand to the top latch of his garb, undoing it slowly, “...already sullied.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him unlatch each metal piece with a clink, clink clink. A shivering heat courses through your veins, the kind of heat that has your body covered in gooseflesh. A million thoughts rush within your mind, but you haven’t the slightest clue what any of them are saying.

Had he been any other boy from in King’s Landing—a peasant from Flea Bottom, a servant in the Red Keep, a merchant from Cobbler’s Square—you would have watched with bated breath, accepted his proposal with a shy grin, fingers shaking only with the anticipation of a night of pleasure. Had he been anyone else, you might have considered sharing the night, knowing and accepting that you’d likely have to take his hand to avoid the shallow slanders of society.

But he is not a merchant from Cobbler’s Square, or a servant in the Red Keep, and he most certainly is not a peasant from Flea Bottom. He is Prince Aemond Targaryen, the son of Queen Alicent and King Viserys I, the rider of Vaghar, the second largest dragon in the world.

You cannot do this and come out unburnt.

Your throat is dry as you try to shake your head. “I-I can’t.” You stumble over your words uselessly. “I’m— You’re— We–”

He hums. “I can just tell them that you attacked the prince.” Fear strikes your head like a chord. “Of course, you would lose a hand…if not your life.”

A tear slips down your cheek to replace the old ones. “Please, my prince–”

“There’s only one way to solve this,” he says, walking toward you once more so that you’re forced to look up at him. He’s taller than Prince Aegon, and his gaze can be just as dark. “I can give you back to the beast, who will maul until he gets what he wants…” Your eyes close, trying to force the memory from your mind. He tilts his head and waits for you to look at him again.

“Or I can ruin you for him.” His proposal sends an unwanted shiver down your spine. You audibly sigh at his suggestion. “Then he shall no longer have interest in you.”

The gods have a strange sense of humor. Every time you suppose they’ve answered your prayers, they offer an alternative that you fight to determine better or worse. No win can ever simply be a win, no salvation can ever simply be salvation. It seems even now…that you’ve traded one beast for another. Now you’re forced to choose between the lesser of two evils.

Your throat is dry. You have to clear it in order to find words to speak, timid words that find a lot of difficulty in breeching your lips. You look up at him, your eyes wet.

“He won’t want me anymore?” You wipe at your eyes, trying to dry your constant tears. “You’ll…” You clear your throat. “You’ll protect me?”

Prince Aemond watches you closely, his gaze betraying no hesitance. He raises a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb under your eye line to rid yourself of your tears. “You have my word,” he nearly whispers.

You look down at your hands, steeling your nerves as you squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s one night. Then you shall be free from the torment of the eldest Targaryen prince. Your troubles shall be put in the past. Just one night…then all will be well.

You just pray this beast is kinder.

You slowly rise to your feet, your fingers almost lethargic in their movements as you hold your breath. He's taller than his brother, just by an inch or two. It's enough that you have to crane your neck even more to look up at him. It has a strange effect on you, one that makes you even shier than you were two moments ago.

You sheepishly raise a hand to your shoulder, pushing your apron off until your arms are free from it. Letting your breath free, you release your arm from the sleeve next. It takes forever, it feels like, to shed yourself of your clothes. But when you’re bare before him, you can’t help but to cover yourself with your arms, trying to preserve what little ounce of dignity you have left.

But there’s no use in it now. He raises hand, slowly so as not to scare you, and touches your waist. You nearly shudder at the feeling, so foreign to you. He drinks in the sight of you, feasting on your body in gentle praise. You drop your arms, allowing him to see all of you.

“My brother was right about one thing,” he hums, licking his bottom lip between his teeth. “You are a pretty girl.”

It feels so different when he says it. It shouldn’t. His actions are almost as selfish as his brother’s, though at least you gain something from your nearing fate. But those words on his lips, they caress you. They send shivers down your spine and offer the smallest salve to the raging nerves preventing you from being calm.

You struggle to find your voice, not yet able to meet his eyes.

“I…” you sigh in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I am at your…your full service, my prince.”

One of his hands continues to rest at your hip, holding you close as his palm strokes your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. It just…it feels so nice. It’s so hard to resist a touch as nice as this one. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you’re forced to open your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brushes the apple of your cheek, staring into your eyes. His words have your blood rushing, your breath becoming thin. “Have you ever had your lips around a cock before?”

Your eyes flutter at the question as you shake your head. “N-No.”

“Someone’s mouth on your cunt?”

Your throat is so dry, you keep having to swallow. “No, my prince.”

He hums. You can’t tell if he sounds pleased or not. “I suppose you’ve done nothing.”

“Never.”

His thumb strokes your cheek again. You lean absently into his touch. “That’s alright,” he says. He lets go of you to shrug the top layer of his clothes off, leaving him in his tunic and trousers. It’s already such a forbidden sight, heat rushes to your cheeks at a glimpse of it—as though you were not already standing bare before him. “I shall teach you.”

When his lips meet yours, you gasp against his mouth as your head begins to spin. You’re so startled by the sudden movement, it takes you a moment to actually realize what’s happened, let alone for you to gather the sense to kiss him back. His hand wraps around the back of your head to bring you closer, and a whining sound comes out of you when you feel his tongue slipping into your mouth.

This whole thing is so foreign to you, so forbidden and exciting and terrifying. Your breath shudders against his lips, and he feeds off your apprehension. He steps forward into you, and you nearly stumble back in an effort to keep up. You’re forced to stop your backpedal when the hard wood of the table digs roughly into your back.

Your stomach churns with a feeling unfamiliar to you, and you lean into it because you have nowhere else to lean. Aemond’s hands hold you tightly, his lips never relent as they suckle around yours. The tingling in your body has become so strong, your legs feel like they’re trembling, like your knees will give out any moment now.

When he pulls away from you, your breaths mingle in the short amount of space between you. They’re thick with whatever it is you’re feeling, this all-consuming lust that leaves you dizzy and wanting. You’re still so close, your lips brush against one another in a silent, teasing chase.

And you know you’ve passed the point of no return when you capture his lips once again, sighing into his mouth and delving into the desire driving you. You’re losing breath and your legs are becoming less and less capable of keeping you up, but you don’t care. You just need to keep tasting him, his lips, his tongue.

You reach for his tunic, pulling the fabric from his trousers and slipping your hands underneath it to feel the strength in his belly. He’s soft, smooth, but you can feel his muscles flexing against your touch. Aemond is the one who pulls away, panting heavily as he watches you. A smirk curves his lips and leaves you weak. You watch him take a small step back, lifting his shirt over his head and discarding it carelessly on the floor. You’re drunk on the sight of him, your lashes fluttering as you drive your teeth into your bottom lip.

When he pulls at his belt, you don’t know what to do. You just stand there, watching his deft hands as they begin to unbuckle it, pulling it from its proper place with a grand sweep. It drops heavily to the floor, and his trousers soon follow.

You hold your breath, staring at the erection between his legs. He’s long and flushed pink. You don’t know what to do, how to react. As you both stand naked before one another, the only thing you can really think to do is drink the other in.

Aemond interrupts your thoughts as he grabs your face again, smashing his lips against yours. You whine again, your tentative hands grazing his sides with a hesitant appreciation. He keeps kissing you as he moves, and you’re too distracted with the way his mouth feels against yours to do much else but stumble after him.

You’re forced to part when he sits down, his hands falling to your hips as he grips them tightly. “Get on your knees for me, pretty girl.”

The words wash over you with a shudder. You know that saying that is a show of power, a flaunt. He stole you from his tyrannical brother, and now you fall apart at the sound of the same name he’d been calling you. With no choice but to obey—both from obligation and a crumbling will—you do as he says as you slowly sink down to your knees.

You stare up at him, your eyes glittering, your lips parted. Aemond takes a moment, admiring the view before him with a sigh and the shake of his head. He thinks you look simply…perfect like this, awaiting his instruction with such an innocence about you.

“I want you to lick it,” he says simply.

You flush, feeling the heat burning in your face, feeling your core pulsing with a sudden desire. Your lips open and close, trying to figure out how to respond. You don’t know how.

Aemond wraps a hand around the back of your head, his fingers weaving their way through your hair. Slowly, he pulls you in until your nose nudges his cock. You sigh, the warm breath fanning over him and making him twitch. Swallowing thickly, you steel your nerves as you timidly let your tongue slip past your lips. Closing your eyes, you do as you’re told and you lick it.

He has an interesting taste, a salty kind filled with a heady scent that invades your senses. Your mind is clouded by lust, your fingers tremble. He closes his eye as he sighs. “Good, just like that. Do it again.”

You lean into the gentle praise, becoming a little braver as you continue to lave your tongue along the underside of his cock. It’s not hard to become addicted to it, his taste, his smell. It’s like you’ve been doused in a potion, one that intoxicates you with the strong scent of him.

You let his sighs guide you as your tongue presses against the vein running up his solid cock. He’s hard, and it’s daunting that he feels so stone-like. You take the initiative as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, suckling gently around it as you swirl your tongue along the slit.

Aemond’s lips part, and he opens his eye to look at you again. “Good,” he says. “Very good. Suck harder.”

You do, rewarded with a gentle grunt that sends shivers all throughout your body. His hand flexes in your hair, and your breath hitches slightly when he pushes you an inch further onto his cock. Adjusting your mouth, you move to take him deeper, sucking him down however you can. Then, just as he’d pushed you down, he guides you back up. Following his lead, you move on your own, moving up and down and up down until you’ve built a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” he breathes, this kind of hum that is far more rewarding than you would have thought. You follow his sounds, bobbing your head up and down his shaft with a growing enthusiasm. “Give me your hand.” He holds out his own for yours to take, and you do, pulling off of him with a sigh.

He guides your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of him. His hand consumes yours as he covers it, squeezing it tight until a groan falls from his lips. He moves it up and down, setting your rhythm, up and down, just like before, up and down.

His hand guides you back down and you take him back into your mouth. You hear the faintest “fuck” breach his lips, and a light feeling floods your system. You must be doing it right. Another “good girl” falls from his lips, and you melt.

You build up some speed, squeezing hard and sucking harder to give him the pleasure he needs. Your jaw and your neck aches, but you’re too caught up in the way his moans sound to care. Your throat catches on a gag when you go too deep, and you gasp on your way up, pausing for a moment to adjust before you take him again.

You feel Aemond’s hips beginning to twitch, rising off the seat a bit as he seeks the warmth of your mouth. When they buck up into you, forcing a gag to erupt out of you, your other hand shoots up to hold him still, nearly panicking when he does. “Yes,” he huffs. “You’re doing so well, pretty girl.”

A whimper leaves your throat, and his breath hitches. As your hand jerks at his cock, he grips your hair and pulls you off of him with a grunt. Your tongue lolls from your mouth, and you have to catch your breath as fresh invades your lungs. His next curse is much clearer as his chest rises and falls with his desire.

“Fuck,” he huffs. His gaze finds you, and he smirks at the sight of your wet eyes and plump lips. “Very good, my sweet thing.”

One of his hands wraps around your throat, and you gasp before his lips find yours again. You lean into it, loving the way his mouth slots so perfectly with yours. He grabs a hold of you as he wills you to stand with him. “My prince,” you sigh between kisses, drinking the lust he pushes down your throat.

You yelp when he dips down and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walks away with you. You hold on tightly to him, finding it so difficult to pull away from his lips. “Aemond,” he corrects you, his teeth closing around your bottom lip. You lick it, pleasantly startled by it.

The smallest scream passes your lips when Aemond suddenly drops you onto his bed. He chases after you, bending over it just to continue his attack of your lips. You cradle his face in your hands, indulging in this forbidden pleasure. He breaks from your lips, his mouth finding your neck as he kisses and licks and sucks and bites at the skin. You gasp at the feeling, your mind hazy with it.

His hands roam your skin, his dull nails grazing it with a certain longing. His lips trail down, down, down. He kisses the lowest part of your belly, lifts your leg as he moves to kiss your knee. He watches you as he does it. He doesn’t say a word, he just stares into your eyes with every peck against your flesh.

Uncontrollable shudders rush through you as his lips press against the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting to lick, his teeth nipping. He goes farther and farther, closer and closer. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle it when he reaches the prize he seeks.

Your words come out as a peep. “My prince.”

He pauses at the very center of your being, his mouth so close that his breath ghosts over you, teasing you. He lingers there, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs. “Aemond.”

His voice is low, almost dangerous. You feel too light and floaty to feel the real danger that is this man. You’re in no position to refuse as you take in a shallow breath. “Aemond,” you whisper.

Then he smirks. It’s a devilish thing that leaves you burning.

You gasp when he dives between your legs, his hot mouth meeting your hot cunt as he laps and sucks at your folds. Your back arches off the bed, and you’re overcome with this consuming feeling that leaves you wanting more, more, more. You whimper, stumbling over your incoherent words. “F-Fuck, Aemond.”

He’s hungry for you, starving as he devours you. It’s hot and heavy, and you’re left absolutely shaking in his grasp. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you close and keeping you down.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping his silver locks and holding them tight to find something to ground you. You can't breathe, you can't think. It's all white noise, the sounds of wet on wet, his heavy breaths, your weak moans. It's utterly intoxicating. You don't think you'll survive.

“Oh, g-gods,” you gasp. “I c-can't. It's so… fuck, it's so good. Please don't stop!”

It’s like music to his ears. The highs of your moans, the lows of your grunts. It feeds his hunger, his pride, his desire. It writhes within him like the fire that writhes within his mighty dragon.

Aemond’s tongue licks and flicks at your clit, coaxing you closer and closer. As you tug at his hair, deep groans erupt from his throat. As your release nips at your heels, beckoning you, luring you toward that edge like a siren’s call, his name echoes off your tongue. He holds you down as you grind against his face, searching for more of him, a glutton for the pleasure he provides.

“Aemond,” you gasp, your body tensing as you get closer. “I’m so close. Please don’t stop–”

Your mouth drops open, your entire body suddenly alight with ecstasy as you reach that boiling point. White flashes behind your eyes as desperate shudders wreck you from the inside out. Your thighs tighten around his head, and his tongue never lets up as he continues to lap at your cunt. You gasp and moan and ride out your high like you’re afraid you’ll never feel it again.

He doesn't let up through your orgasm. He drinks it down, ever the starved man craving your honey. When the trembling has dulled down, and he thinks you can breathe again, Aemond sits up with a rather pleased look on his face. “You taste,” he hums, a large smirk covering his face as he licks his lip, “magnificent, pretty girl.” You melt at his praise.

When his finger teases the seam of your cunt, you look at him quickly, unsure of what you’re looking for. You whine when he presses his finger inside of you, pushing it in deep. The sensitivity matched with the slight stretch is maddening—and when he curls it, you lose your breath in your whimper.

You curse, not quite sure how to feel between your fresh release and his long finger seated so nicely within you. You cannot tell if you want to beg for more or ask him for a reprieve, if only for a moment. A moment to catch your breath, which is so frequently lost with this man.

But he’s far too happy to watch you tremble—and you do tremble. It’s hard not to when he plays your body like a player to a lyre. He thrusts his finger slowly in and out of you, content with the way you pant until he isn’t. As he adds a second finger, you clench your teeth and stifle a moan at the stretch. It’s a nice kind of stretch, it’s pleasant and warm but it drives you to madness.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, curling them against a spongy spot within you that arches your back in the same manner. The more he strokes you, the more you moan, and the faster he goes. His rhythm is quick and precise, and it's so blinding as it fills the air with the sounds of your moans, your squelching cunt, his eager breaths.

The pleasure swirls in your brain. It's the kind of pleasure that is just as much in your head as it is in your body, and you can hardly think past it. Bending down to meet you, his lips capture yours again. You moan into his mouth as they slide against each other. There's nothing tender about this kiss. There's never been anything tender about it. He's needy and primal, and it's the opposite of the composure this man holds as he walks about the castle with all the regality and elegance of a prince.

The way that you feel this pleasure is anything but elegant. You feel it with jerky limbs, with sharp gasps, with whining moans. You feel it with tugged hair and clasped thighs and clenched jaws. It's uncontrolled and incredibly indulgent. There's no restraint, as much as you try to keep yourself in check, he yanks these things from you and makes it impossible to be elegant.

“Such a good girl, you are,” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe. The praise goes straight to your core, straight to your pulsing clit. You're already so close, you feel the ebb and flow of a release pulling at you. “I can already imagine how perfect you'll feel around my cock.”

A whimper escapes you—a pathetic sound, really. He swallows it down like a sweet elixir, drunk on the taste, drunk on the feel. He could spend forever here, with his fingers shoved in your cunt and his mouth all over your body.

When he breaks away from your lips, he moves down your body and attacks your cunt, fingers still thrusting. You react immediately, rolling your hips against him as his tongue laps at your clit. You're so caught up in it that it takes no time at all for you to come again, this time all over his hand.

You shake as you shout, high-pitched whines and shallow breaths and blinded eyes. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and he keeps coaxing the ends of your release from you even after you've settled.

When you go limp against the sheets of his bed, he pulls his hand out of you. You feel heavy, your eyes drooping and your chest still full of needy breath. You forget, for a moment, that you're not done. It's hard to keep up so fresh out of your virginity. You never thought you would lose it so thoroughly.

Aemond kisses your release from his fingers, humming at the taste of you with a growing appreciation. His hand wraps around his cock, and he groans. He's still so hard, and you wonder briefly if it hurts.

“Sit up, pretty girl,” he beckons, holding a hand out for you.

It takes a moment for your body to follow the order. When you do you grasp his hand as he helps you up. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other at his side as he pulls you in and kisses you with as much hunger as he began.

When he lets you go, he does so to move off the bed. You sit there, attempting to gather your thoughts. Everything is still so hazy, there's a slight confusion that is so difficult to gauge.

Aemond sits at the head of the bed, sitting back as he watches you for a moment. He seems to be giving you the moment you're needing. It doesn't last too long, though, because he reaches an arm out and wraps it around you to bring you to him, back to chest.

You can feel his cock pressing into your back as his lips brush the shell of your ear. A shudder runs down your spine.

“I am going to fuck you now,” he purrs in your ear. The smallest whimper escapes you, and his lips kick at the sound. “But before I do, I must tell you how much I've been craving you.”

You lean into him, no sense or care for the danger this situation puts you in. “I've been watching you.” A dull tingle sparks in your gut, arising in the tips of your fingers, of your ears. He was always watching you.

“You're such a lovely little thing.” He hums, “A sweet girl, a shy girl. No wonder my brother wants you so much. It's the only sensible thing he's ever done.”

He takes a deep breath in, his nose pressed into your hair as he does. With a sigh, he chuckles. “How lucky I am to have gotten to you first.” His hand flattens against your belly while the other strokes the inside of your thigh.

“You see, my brother…he would have ravished you.” The idea makes you cold, you have to force away the heat that pushes at your eyes. “But me…” you can feel his smirk against your ear as he whispers, “...I am going to ravage you.”

Your voice is a small murmur of a thing when you speak. You reach over your shoulder, your fingers finding his hair. “Please…” you whimper.

Aemond turns you around, lifting you up as he moves you to sit in his lap. His cock sits against your belly, and you lose breath just looking at him. You watch his face as his gaze covers you. His arms wrap tightly around your body, and when he kisses you, he has to move up to do it.

You cradle his head in your hands as you do, grinding your hips against him in your haste. He groans as you do, enjoying the way your pussy rubs against him. His strong hands wrap around your thighs, lifting you up again as he positions you over him.

When he eases you down, you whine into his mouth. But the intrusion doesn't stop as he presses deeper and deeper into you. Your thighs meet his lap, and you break the kiss to let out a heavy sigh at how far he sits within you.

You linger there, your mind hazy with the stretch as your body goes limp. It feels so good.

Aemond's hands flex on your thighs, and you moan when he presses you down, squishing your bodies together in an attempt to go deeper. “I can feel you clenching around me,” he huffs. “Do you want me, pretty girl? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

You roll your hips a little in his lap, your voice a permanent whine in your ear as you keep him close, your face buried in the crook of his neck. “Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please fuck me, Aemond.”

He shifts his hands to grip your ass, and the moan that falls out of you is high and heavy. You hold him tighter, grinding down into his lap.

You fall into a steady rhythm soon enough—his hands guiding your rolling hips, your pitched moans, his strained breaths. Your thighs shake around him, it's so hard to keep it steady when you need more.

It drives you as you fuck yourself on his cock, searching even deeper for that pleasure, You're not used to the heat curling in your belly. It's white-hot, consuming. It makes you so hard to focus as it slowly begins to become all you know.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be a dragon. This overwhelming heat which makes a home inside of you. Hoarding, nesting, conquering. You wonder if this feeling is what makes the Targaryens what they are, rulers.

But then you remember. You remember who you are. You remember that dragons are fierce, and you could never even imagine being as fierce as even the smallest of the Targaryen beasts.

So you lose yourself in the pleasure until all you know is Aemond. His lips press against your skin as you ride him, his fingers digging into your skin as he licks and bites at your neck, your collarbone, your chest. When his lips wrap around your nipple, you're done for as you throw your head back. Pushing your chest closer to him, you bounce in his lap and indulge in this pleasure.

His moans vibrate within you. You're left gasping as his tongue digs into your nipple and sends electricity flowing through your veins. “Aemond, please,” you mewl. “Don't stop.” His tongue glides toward the valley of your breasts, and you arch your back into him when he claims your other nipple.

A sudden crack of thunder resembling a dragon's roar deafens you for a moment, and a startled gasp slips from you at the sound. You had not even realized it had been raining. If it weren't for the bliss clouding your mind, you would feel foolish for not hearing the rain sooner as it slaps against the windows of his chambers.

In your brief distraction, Aemond brings you in tight as he pushes you onto your back, and you yelp as you tighten your arms around him. His figure towers over you, and you hesitate for a moment as you stare into his eye.

He's pretty. It has an almost sobering effect on you. If you forget who and what he is, if you forget (for the moment) why you are here… you think that this is the man who you would allow to sweep you off your feet.

But he isn't, and he can't be. He is your prince and (for lack of better word) savior. You owe him a debt, which you will pay and move on.

So when his hips snap into you, you lose yourself all again to make all of this easier. Like the pouring rain outside, his sudden thrusts are quick and persistent. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt matches that of the rain smacking against stone, against earth. You hold onto him, arms and legs, as he fucks you.

He holds you close, like he'll keel over if you disappear. His sounds, though deep and heavy, hold a certain desperation in them that transcends blind lust. As you moan in his ear and ramble nonsensically about how good he's making you feel, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and feasts at your throat.

Somehow, this position allows him to drive deeper within you. You're left gasping, seeing stars with every slap of his hips. One hand cradles the back of your head, tangled in your hair as you moan. The other grasps your hip and refuses to let go as he holds you still.

The rain outside carries on. It's more fitting than a silent night. The thunder rumbles and roars, just like the heat writhing within the both of you. “Do you like it, pretty girl?” he mutters in your ear, his breath thin and his voice low. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?”

You’re losing it, teetering on the edge of senseless bliss. There’s too much pleasure shooting in your body and nowhere to put it as you clench and shake and moan. “I can’t–” you stutter, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Please, my prince, I can’t!”

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl? Is that what you want?” His excitement and desperation mix in a heavy encouragement that has his hips thrusting rougher into your own. It feels so good for you to be able to think about what he’s asked. All you know is that he’s going to let you cum, and that’s all you want right now. You crave it, like the soil craves water, like your lungs crave air.

As you pull him tight within your embrace, you're driven by your need as you nod. “Yes, yes, yes, please.” You gasp at the roll of his hips. “I’ll do anything. Please give it to me.”

He loves hearing you say that. I’ll do anything. Part of him wonders just how far you would go. You’re already fucking him, the prince, in order to escape his brother, another prince. If he had his way—and it’s likely he will—you’ll find yourself in this position more than once following this encounter.

He just supposes you ought to be more careful to whom you speak those words.

“Beg for it,” he demands, his lips lazy against your skin. “Beg for me to keep fucking you. Beg for me to cum in you, to let you cum on my cock. Beg me to give you what you want, pretty girl.”

You’re too far gone to care, and your dignity has long since been shed. You’ve already sold your soul, you’ve already given up the virginity that’s meant to be reserved for a husband—were he ever to find his way to you. You have nothing left to lose but your life, and that has already been sold to the Targaryen reign.

So, as the thunder rumbles, you let the pleads fall. “Please, Aemond, let me cum,” you stutter. “Please cum inside of me. I need you.”

He’s losing control. It’s a confusing, conflicting feeling. He needs the control, he needs to feel it in his hands, especially as he takes you—something that was rightfully his when he decided you were. But you…oh, you just had to be so perfect, so obedient, so good. His control was slipping, and it was your fault, and part of him didn’t even care.

He held you still and he held you down as he fucked his cock into your squelching pussy and cricled his dept fingers over your aching clit. The sight of your tearing eyes as your foreheads pressed together was addicting.

You are the first to cum. The thunder outside of his window is loud, a terrible rumble that almost silences your desperate moans, the sobbing breaths that fall from your lips as you see white. The pleasure overcomes you like the pouring rain that drowns the ground in its consuming cover. You hold him tight, too tight perhaps. But there’s not enough sense in your mind to care.

You clench so tightly around his cock, he doesn’t understand how he was supposed to resist. With a few powerful thrusts, he spills inside of you with a low groan that sounds like a roar with the way it is drowned by the raging crack of thunder that deafens you both. Your cunt swallows his cock and his cum down, milking every last drop as he fucks it into you in deep, short thrusts.

You shake and tremble, still so caught on the ride that is the orgasm still ripping through your body. Aemond’s teeth graze the skin of your throat as his breath fans over your skin.

It takes a long time for either of you to come down. Tremors glide through your muscles as you lay on your back, your limbs very slowly loosening from around him as you lay limply on the bed. Your breaths mingle, an exchange of sobering lust which turns to solemn clarity for you and satiated hunger for him. As his gaze catches your face, he hums as he leans in and captures your lips.

As wrong as you know it is—though you know you’ve passed the point of moral obligation—you can’t help but to kiss him back. This man has consumed you, body and mind and soul. He has a claim on you now that goes even deeper, somehow, than the cum he’s shoved into your womb. You don’t know what you’re going to do, but for now…you simply give in to the intoxication of his desire.

When he pulls out of you, it's with heavy sighs and weak whimpers. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to sit up, leaning all the way back until he’s laying against the pillows at the top of the bed with you right at his side. Despite your better judgment, you seek his warmth as you rest your head on his chest. Aemond throws one arm over you and the other behind his head.

Neither of you look at one another. It’s an unspoken agreement, while you both think over things in your mind. No gazes really need to be exchanged.

You thought, like some great metaphor, that the rain would begin to slow now that the frenzy has faded. You thought that the thunder would settle and the harsh patter of rain at the window would begin distant flicks of water on glass. But as you lay there, wrapped in Aemond’s embrace, the storm refuses to cease.

It’s a while before you find your voice. When you do, it’s still so quiet, and now hoarse with its overuse throughout this dark night.

“Will…” you lick your lip, swallowing thickly with a sigh. “Will Prince Aegon truly leave me be now?”

Aemond doesn’t respond right away. As he stares at the ceiling, you feel his thumb begin to stroke slow circles into your shoulder. It remains quiet for a long time. “My brother does not care whether you have your virtue or not.” His words would have pulled a gasp from you, were you not subconsciously expecting them from coming from his mouth. “He would have raped you all the same.”

Still, despite your suspicions, despite your inhibitions, you sit up just enough to look at his face. Despite everything, remaining oblivious seems like an easier choice than facing what you already know: he lied to you, and you let him do it because one evil is easier than the other. “What?” you whisper, apprehension in your eyes as you watch him. He stares back at you, taking in the sight of your innocence. He could not have chosen better.

“But he shall not,” he says, a firmness in his soft voice that eases your worry. “He will not cross me, and I shall have you transferred to my chambers instead of his to keep my eye on you.” He takes your chin in his grasp, pulling you close. “I promise my protection, it is yours.” His lips hardly brush against yours, it is you who closes the distance (no matter how much you convince yourself that it is him). You sink into him with a gentle sigh.

“He will not touch you. Now…” his eyes are dark when he says it, “...you belong to me.”

You always knew this was the route. You knew, whether you would ever admit it to yourself or not, that he always meant to own you. And you let him. You let him do it, despite knowing what he is.

He is a Targaryen, and all Targaryens must be beasts in the end, some more than others.

Prince Aegon is a cruel beast, a monster truly favored by none… but Aemond is no less cruel. He is a subtler beast, the kind that lies in waiting, charms with smiles and soothing promises, the kind that bargains in the dark and sways the monsters of the daylight. The difference between the princes is not the difference between good and bad. You know this. You have known this. You always will know this.

But Prince Aemond’s cruelty is kind…and you’d rather be monstrously deceived than beaten bloody and bruised.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

[appleblueberry-pie]

“You were his salvation, you were real to him. You gave him exactly what he needed. Love, validation, excitement, fun and so much he couldn't get out of his childhood, out of his job or anywhere else on the fucking planet.“

Thinking about transfer student coming to jjk from America and he is in awe of her… kinda like your yan sweetheart Gojo hcs but more developed in there friendship. She is just very…confident and strong. And funny. Anyway. Young love.

Gojo loved how you never took it the wrong way when he stared at you.

Honestly, you never treated him the way everyone else treated him. You always looked at him as his actions having good intentions behind them.

And he loooooved the attention.

No one understood why and how you could tolerate his crazy ass, but here you were entertaining him. You were told multiple times by quite literally everyone besides Shoko and Geto that Satoru was the most undesirable Japanese boy they'd ever have to tolerate.

You thought he wasn't that bad. What everyone else saw as unbearable in him was considered pretty nice to have in a friend back in America.

You were a sweetheart to him.

You had strength that you weren't afraid to share. You confidently spoke to everyone, dressed how you wanted to dress, often steering away from what's considered normal or trending and started your own trend, spoke how you wanted to speak and often got away with it.

It was inspiring and attention-drawing in the best way possible.

You executed your cursed energy in a way no one else did and often fought until you truly, truly couldn't anymore and would still go back to your dorm hoping to go out to the city afterwards.

He could do so many things with you that no one else liked. He could hug you when he sees you from afar.

He can surprise you from around the corner and you two could laugh about it afterwards.

He could flirt with you a million times and you wouldn't care, god, you were perfect.

You were also very fucking attractive. You both were so compatible.

How come you couldn't tell he fucking loved you???

He couldn't just sit back and watch. He had it bad.

His tongue was wild when you weren't in hearing or seeing distance. He often told not only his friends and classmates, but his teachers about how much he liked you.

Liked you so much he wanted them to know he'd genuinely hurt someone if he found out they liked you as well without telling them outright.

He doesn't allow anyone to say what they like about you without him getting pissed off about it.

He's the only one who's allowed to go to the vending machine to get you something to drink or eat.

He's the only one who can visit your dorm room and pressures any girls who were hanging out with you exactly what you all did together.

He will fist fight someone over you.

NO one can snitch about his behavior to you, and he made sure everyone was sure of this.

All in all, he developed anger issues.

Can't sit still anymore because he's constantly on your ass about your wearabouts. Developed a habit of bouncing his knees and pacing.

Checks his phone often to see your location.

If only you knew how crazy he was about you, lol.

I went too far with this and was lowkey gonna make this scary.

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere jujutus kaisen #yandere x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.71)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Freedom isn't always a good thing... sometimes stupid pups get in trouble.

Tags: slight angst, lying, implied psychopath Jin, Confirmed autistic Jimin, discussion of murder and killing others, Jimin and Jin both have dubious morality, needy m/c, Frottage, Teasing, Knotting, knot-fucking, desperate sex, messiness kink, (slight) pleasure dom hobi 👀, public sex, riding, squirting, car sex

W/c: 9.0k

A/n: it's kinda crazy that this chapter, last chapter, and next chapter was supposed to be a single chapter (it would have been over 30k), this one is my least favorite out of the bunch! please give it a bunch of love when it comes out though 🥺 if you don't love it i'll be sad!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

You drive, and instead of returning your hands to the center console Hobi’s hand creeps, settling on your knee. Your jeans have rips in them, a courting gift from tae who claimed they were cute (the pockets on the back are heart shaped). Hobi hooks his finger into the biggest one on your upper thigh, stroking the skin higher and higher. You go still, look down, and watch his hands rub smooth circles on your inner thigh. They go no higher.

Hoseok has very pretty hands.

A heat creeps up the back of your neck as Hobi keeps his eyes on the road and not on you. You try not to squirm, not to close your legs either. Although you know he'll be able to smell and feel your slick if he keeps it up for too long. You know your scent is swelling treacherously sweet, but you hope he won't comment- won't notice.

But when he pulls into the parking lot and the ocean is right there, turning dark green and a little violent at high tide. The air is stormy but sweet through the cracked windows. He turns to you, already smirking. The quirk of his lips teases and you realize he knows exactly what he's been doing to you this whole time.

You're already shoving his hand off of you, and he laughs at your flaming cheeks. "Oh my god shut up-"

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh, you little shit-" Hoseok grins.

"You're cute when you're flustered from being teased."

"Call me cute one more fucking-"

"Cute."

You put your head between your knees and actually scream. It's soft, not all that loud. Hoseok's laugh is louder as he throws his head back. and you regret ever making the mistake of falling in love with your best friend.

"Oh my god you are totally getting horny because of a car-"

"It's not the fucking car-" you whine, almost petulant.

"Oh, so it's me then?" The way Hoseok raises his eyebrow at you makes you want to scream. The smirk that has your omegan instincts rankled back on his stupidly pretty face.

"And if it is?"

Hoseok grins, reaching over to cup your cheek in his hand. Pinching the sides so that your lips push out. holding you hard so that you can't squirm away.

"Then c'm here."

There are other things that you both crave beyond sugar and sweets. kisses that turn into giggles. Hoseok's lips move, good and gentle for a second. Exactly what you need, what you've been craving.

And then he bites your lower lip.

It smells like gasoline and sea salt and blood when you pull apart. rubbing at your stinging lip, a little angry. You're not bleeding, but it feels like you could be. A Hoseok shaped space over your heart, wrenched clean, bleeding because where he sits is so far. If the distance and wanting could make you bleed- you would be.

(Hoseok bit you to keep you close, because for a second, it felt like you were about to pull back. His alpha didn't like that.)

You bristle, an omega that needs settling. Hoseok almost wants to bare his teeth at how on edge it makes him. You smell so needy. sticky sweet the way that Jungkook does sometimes. Hoseok's half surprised that the other omega didn't get to you before he did.

You flush hot. Half anger, half wanting. "Bitch-"

Hoseok reaches down between his legs for the lever under the seat to push it back. He pushes his seat away from the steering wheel and makes room for you. He parts his legs wide and gestures to his lap.

"I said come here."

Coming Saturday, June 8th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[seulrinnie-rinrin]

Passion on the High Seas

SUMMARY | After running away from your life as a noblewoman to become a pirate, you meet Yunho, a handsome pirate who has an equally shocking past. PAIRING | Yunho/Reader GENRE | Pirate!Yunho, smut with no plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), oral, fingering, vaginal sex, RATING | Mature LENGTH | 4758 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | Might make this a series or something LOL. Here’s to my first Ateez fic!

You stretched your limbs after you had finished loading cargo onto the ship earlier that day. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun so that it didn't fall onto your face as you worked.

Your clothes were tattered, stained with dirt and grime and most likely smelled horrible due to you wearing the same clothing for days on end. But despite all that, you felt pretty damn happy at that very moment.

Happiness. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time.

You were the daughter of one of the peninsula's most prestigious families that served the king. You grew up in a gilded cage with servants attending to your every whim. You went to fancy balls with nobles and royalty. You wore dresses that cost thousands of gold coins each. Every evening, you went to parties hosted by important merchants or dignitaries where you drank the finest wine and ate the most delectable foods. And yet...despite all that, you never felt happy. Not once in your life.

Until now.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about what it would be like to live life on your own terms. No rules. No laws. No royal decrees preventing you from doing what you wanted. Just you and the sea. The only one that cared whether or not you lived was you. And you loved that feeling. More than anything.

And as far as you knew, it was that feeling that had drawn you to the life of piracy.

You've been living life on the seas for a few years already, rising to the ranks of Captain through sheer determination and blood, sweat and tears. It wasn't easy being an outcast among the noble classes but you never let that get you down. There was no place else you'd rather be than here: sailing around the world, exploring new lands, making friends, conquering foes and seeing sights no one had ever seen before.

The wind blew gently against your face as you looked upon the island that stood in front of you. Sails flapped lazily as the pirate ship moored itself to the shore and as you gazed out over the horizon, you could see your next destination appear in the distance: the City of Thieves. A land filled with thieving pirates and thieves where anyone could do whatever they wanted without fear of punishment or retribution. Where there were no constrictions, no boundaries, no restrictions. You couldn't wait to get there. You grinned wickedly as you imagined running wild and free amongst its teeming streets and crowded alleyways, laughing and partying until the sun came up again.

No more dresses. No more high heels. No more boring noble gatherings. This was going to be a life of pure pleasure, no holds barred. If you weren't having fun, then you weren't doing it right. This was what freedom was all about!

With a chuckle, you hollered to your crew as the ship was preparing to dock. "Looks like we're finally here!" You said excitedly. "Open up those cargoes so we can sell them off. Check in with the Quartermaster to see what jobs he has for you and once work is done, and I really mean done, then you are free to do as you please! Huzzah!"

The men cheered in excitement as they began working on the tasks that were given to them, shouting out commands to their colleagues as they continued to unload crates and barrels onto the dockside. While this was happening, however, you were busy thinking about how you were going to spend the rest of the day. What would you do? How will you spend your day? All these questions swirled around your head like the churning waters of the ocean.

Once the ship was docked, work was done and you had distributed everyone's pay, you led your crew towards the nearest tavern. Once inside, you ordered some food and drinks and made your way to a secluded table where you watched your men frolic about. Soon enough, a buxom waitress came over and placed your order down before giving you a warm smile. You noticed a few of your fellow men giving her a wolfish grin but you paid no mind to it as she left.

You weren't looking for female company but rather the company of men. But all the pirates you knew were old, young, drunk, had missing limbs or were not that attractive to look at, which means you wouldn't be able to pick any of them as potential mates. And as much as you loved taking lovers, nothing quite compared to a cold, hard drink with a handsome man who knows exactly how to treat his woman right. Or maybe someone who had nice eyes and lips? You did like a man with nice features. You wondered if you'll ever find a man like that. Maybe you won't. Either way, you didn't care. You didn't need a man. Not even if you found one. You'd be fine on your own. Better than fine, in fact.

"I hear you've just returned home from a voyage." Said a familiar voice.

Your ears perked up as you turned around and saw another pirate sitting at the table beside you. You immediately recognized him as one of your regular drinking buddies and a captain of his own right. "Are you keeping tabs on me, Hongjoong?" You asked, sipping your drink.

"I just got into town a few days ago. Leave me alone." Hongjoong laughed as he ordered a bottle of rum.

"Oh come on! Aren't you curious about my latest adventures?" You questioned, playing along.

Hongjoong let out a laugh. "If it doesn't have pretty woman involved, then no thank you."

You scoffed and pointed at yourself. "But I'm a pretty woman."

"You're a whole different story, my noble lady." Hongjoong chuckled, finishing his drink and ordering another one. "You're out of my reach."

"Too bad, my friend." You replied, sipping your drink. "Anything new happening with you these days? Got any juicy stories to tell?"

"Apart from recruiting new men?" Hongjoong teased, winking at you.

A frown formed on your lips. "What does that mean?"

"I got a few pretty boys on board." Hongjoong said as he gestured to a few men that were engaged with talks with a few of yours. "Snagged them before you could, so I'm feeling lucky. Are you jealous?"

You shrugged. "Don't care."

"Why don't you join us later tonight?" Hongjoong offered, turning towards you. "We can grab a few bottles of wine and then go somewhere quiet and intimate."

You arched an eyebrow at him. "So now you're interested in me?"

"Nah...you know my type." He chuckled. "But I do know the type of guys you like. I can guarantee you won't be disappointed. Like that one over there."

You looked over to where he pointed and noticed a rather tall, handsome man talking to a few of your crew members. Your eyes trailed downwards to take in the sight of his well-built body and those long fingers that rested upon the wooden chair. God, what you could do with those fingers. They would feel good wrapped around your throat. But more importantly, those legs. Long and strong. Perfect for fucking.

That, and his eyes. Those beautiful dark eyes...they almost hypnotized you.

A low growl escaped your lips before you looked at your friend. "Damn you, Hongjoong. I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once I'm glad we're friends. I'll join your party as long as he's there."

"Good girl." He grinned before he drained his glass. He called out to the tall man. "Yunho!"

His name was Yunho. You liked that name.

Yunho approached the table and turned to Hongjoong. "Captain."

Hongjoong clapped the tall man's back as gestured to you. "Say hello. This is my good friend, Y/N. She's the captain of 'The Aurora'."

Yunho gave you a friendly nod before turning his attention to you. "Hello. Pleased to meet you."

You nodded in return. "Likewise."

Yunho opened his mouth to say something but was cut short when you waved to the others, signaling for everyone to join you.

All the men eagerly moved towards the table and took their places as you pulled up a chair and joined them. "Let's get to know each other, shall we?" You suggested as you raised your glass and gave a toast. "Here's to better opportunities, a brighter future and everlasting friendships."

After you had finished your drink, you signaled for a waiter and ordered two bottles of wine before moving to sit next to Yunho. He immediately leaned towards you and whispered into your ear. "You're awfully forward, aren't you?"

"Can't help it. You've caught my eye." You whispered back. "There's something intriguing about you. What's your story? You seem different from all the pirates I've met."

Yunho smiled as he tilted his head to the side slightly. "How so?"

"You just have a different air about you." You stated. "Not as cocky as the others. More mysterious."

"I could say the same about you, Captain." Yunho let out a laugh. "It's not everyday that I get to meet a female pirate, much less a female captain. You're different from all the women I met. You sit differently, talk differently. It's as if you were born into a different life than the other women."

"I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours." You countered.

"Alright." Yunho muttered, eyeing the group of men across the room. "Do you want to walk with me? We can exchange stories as we go."

"Sounds good to me." You agreed. "Lead the way."

As you and Yunho headed out of the tavern, the men gave you knowing glances knowing that you wouldn't be returning any time soon. Some smirked, wondering what the attraction was between you two while others winked. You ignored them and allowed Yunho to lead the way as you followed behind him. His movements seemed so smooth, almost as if he was dancing with the night breeze as he walked along. With each step he took, you felt like your heart skipped a beat. Just watching him made you weak in the knees.

Damn it, why am I like this? It's not like I haven't fucked hundreds of men already. Why do I feel so drawn to this one man?

"So what's your story?" Yunho inquired, stopping near a tree as he looked at you.

"Tell me yours first." You commanded, still unable to hide the obvious longing that shined through your gaze.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was the son of a noble? One that went through a lot growing up because of the rumors about his father's involvement in treason?" Yunho asked, giving you a sad smile. "Of how my family had been stripped of our title and exiled instead of executed for being traitors?"

"So you're Minister Jeong's son." You said as you sat down by the tree.

"Do you know of my family?" Yunho asked in surprise.

You gave him a sad smile in return. "Would you believe that I was the daughter of a noble as well? Raised in a gilded cage, unable to live freely as she waits for her father to marry her off for his political gain? A noblewoman who ran away during a shopping excursion when a riot occurred?"

"So...You're the missing daughter of Minister Y/L/N." Yunho surmised, studying you carefully. "It explains why you're different from all the other women I met."

"Does it?" You questioned as you furrowed your brows.

"I think you understand what I'm trying to say." Yunho said, his eyes gazing into yours. "You and I lived the life of privilege and even though it looks like we've adapted to the life of being a pirate, there are things that only people of nobility would understand. Things we both experienced. Things that we know about each other."

"Yes." You admitted. "I agree with you. In many ways, we do understand each other."

"Then why did you run away from everything you know? Don't you miss the life you once had?" Yunho asked as he pulled a few leaves off a branch and handed it to you. "Have you forgotten all about it?"

"I was raised to be a dutiful daughter and if I stayed, my fate would be to marry some powerful man for his wealth and political power." You explained. "I didn't know it at the time but I hated my life back then. I wanted to live freely. To be free. To be myself. So I ran away and never looked back."

"And here you are now, living on your own. No one to guide you but yourself." Yunho added. "Surely that must be lonely."

"At times, yes. Sometimes I miss having someone to talk to." You admitted as you watched Yunho pull a few leaves from the branch. "My crew are great men but sometimes it's hard to talk to them about my life considering we all had different pasts. If they found out that I was a noblewoman, who's to say that they wouldn't look down on me or treat me differently?"

"I get it." Yunho looked up at the night sky. "I haven't told Captain Hongjoong my identity as well. But I'm sure he already knows. The man seems to always be able to read me like an open book."

"He's quite gifted in that area." You mused as you turned to face Yunho. "He found out about my identity the first time we met. But you can count on Hongjoong to keep your secret. That's one thing you can trust in him."

"Now that you mention it..." Yunho stared at you intently. "Why do I feel like I can trust you?"

"Maybe it's because you want to trust me?" You suggested with a soft chuckle.

"Perhaps." Yunho sighed as he stood up and started walking towards you. "However, that doesn't explain why I suddenly became attracted to you. I've had my fair share of lovers in my life and yet I find myself wanting to know you."

"I feel the same. Strange, isn't it?" You smiled at him. "Normally, I would sleep with someone and then leave the next morning without giving them any thought. Yet with you...it feels different."

Yunho returned your smile and bent down so that he could whisper into your ear. "Me too."

As you glanced up at his lips, you wondered how such a large man like him could make you feel so small. As his breath fanned against your skin, you could feel your heart beating faster and harder. Before you knew it, you found yourself leaning closer towards him and slowly moving your body closer towards his.

Your lips parted and he placed his finger on your lower lip, coaxing you to close the distance between you. Instinctively, you leaned forward and closed the gap between you. His tongue swirled around your bottom lip and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you but instead he nipped lightly on your lower lip.

You pulled back slightly, your hand reaching for his. "Do you want to continue this somewhere else?"

"Wherever you wish." Yunho answered, his voice thick with desire.

"Come on." You grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the inn. "I rented a room earlier and we don't want to waste any time, do we?"

Without waiting for an answer, you led him inside and led him straight to the room you rented. Locking the door, you removed your jacket and tossed it onto the bed as you kicked off your shoes. When you reached for the buttons of your shirt, Yunho stopped you and helped you remove it. He tossed it on top of your jacket before placing his large hand on your naked skin.

Yunho inhaled deeply as he ran his hands up and down your torso, enjoying the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips. Suddenly he leaned forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss as his hands explored every inch of your upper body, gently caressing you. "Yeah, you're definitely a noblewoman with how soft your skin is. So supple and smooth."

As he continued kissing you, you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch. One hand reached up to grab hold of his hair, entwining your fingers within it as you held him tightly against you. He pressed himself against you as his long fingers trailed down your body, pausing briefly at the hem of your pants before gently sliding underneath it.

A shudder ran down your spine as he touched you intimately, softly brushing over the sensitive spot below your navel before tracing the outline of your sex. As you arched your back, pushing yourself further against his hand, you moaned as you realized that you were getting wetter with each passing second. A loud moan escaped your lips as he slipped his middle finger into you, exploring every nook and cranny as you grinded your hips against his hand.

You grasped at his shirt, tugging it upwards so that you could feel the warmth of his bare chest against your own. Pulling his shirt over his head, you tossed it aside and cupped his face in your hands, kissing him passionately as you moved his hand away from you.

"Too much clothes on." You murmured as you pushed Yunho backwards onto the bed.

He let out a laugh. "I could say the same since you still have your pants on."

"That will come off later." You teased as you dropped to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants. "For now, you can enjoy my mouth first."

Yunho's hands gripped the sheets as he watched you strip him of the rest of his clothing piece by piece. Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to get lost in the sensation of your warm breath upon his skin. Your hair brushed against his stomach, tickling him as you slowly worked your way downwards.

When you finally reached his crotch, Yunho gasped as you wrapped your fingers around his hardness. Slowly running your hand up and down his length, you smiled as he visibly shuddered under your touch.

"Just like I expected." You whispered as you lowered your mouth and licked the tip of his cock. "Very stiff and very hot. Very big."

Licking the underside of his cock, you continued stroking him until he was panting heavily. He bit his lip, trying to remain silent as you feasted on his cock. With each flick of your tongue, you drew tiny groans from him. Unable to control himself, he thrust forward and hit the back of your throat.

Moaning as you took his entire length into your mouth, you loved the feeling of his dick slipping in and out of your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut, you imagined him buried deep inside you. Imagining his hands caressing your skin while your breasts filled his palms. Without warning, you felt his cock swell in your mouth as he shot his cum right into your waiting mouth.

Swallowing every last drop, you pulled your mouth away and kissed his thighs before standing up. Grabbing the waistband of your pants, you quickly removed them and threw them onto the floor before sitting back down on his lap. Leaning forward, you pulled him towards you and passionately kissed him again.

Yunho took the chance to flip you on the bed and cover you with his body. Grasping the back of your neck, he gently massaged the base of your skull as he kissed you more intensely than ever. "Your turn to enjoy my mouth."

His lips traveled down your neck, nibbling and sucking every part of your flesh as you arched your back and purred. Pushing you further down on the bed, he took your left nipple into his mouth and sucked on it gently. He flicked his tongue against it causing your body to jolt slightly.

"More." You breathed out, needing more of him.

"If you insist." Yunho answered as he lifted your right breast into his mouth.

The sensations coursing through your body intensified as he sucked on your nipples, gradually increasing his speed. He took turns licking and sucking each one of them, paying special attention to your left nipple. It wasn't until he finally reached your other nipple that he paused momentarily. Gazing into your eyes, he licked his lips and gave you a sexy smirk before trailing his lips further down your body.

Inch by inch, his tongue traced your skin until he reached your belly button. Placing his hands on your legs, he spread them apart before gently grazing his lips across your sensitive skin. You cried out as you felt his teeth scrape against your skin.

Kissing the outside of your pussy, he slowly slid two fingers inside you. He heard you moan as he moved his fingers in and out of you, sliding them deeper with each thrust. The sounds of your wetness echoed in his ears as he tasted your sweetness with his tongue. When he finally reached your inner walls, he inserted another finger and began thrusting his digits in and out of you, creating a rhythm that was driving you mad.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, pulling your clit into his mouth and gently suckling on it. As you bucked against his hand, Yunho could feel your juices flowing freely from your slit. "God, you taste good."

Leaving his fingers inside you, he dipped his head between your legs and slowly moved his tongue along the length of your slit. He flicked his tongue against your clit, drawing small whimpers from you.

Yunho lifted his head and watched you squirm beneath him. "Can I?" 

You nodded and silently prayed that he didn't stop. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and engulfed your clit into his mouth, sucking on it gently as you cried out in pleasure. Every single sensation heightened tenfold as his lips made contact with your most intimate areas.

You arched your back, moaning loudly as he gently tugged on your clit. Overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure washing over you, you lost all sense of self. Nothing existed except for the feel of Yunho's warm tongue dancing against your most intimate parts.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you panting for air. Looking down at you with hunger in his eyes, he sat back up on the bed. With one hand, he caressed your cheek while using the other to grasp his cock.

"Please." You begged. "I need you inside me."

With a look of pure lust in his eyes, Yunho positioned himself at your entrance. Pressing forward, his thick cock plunged inside of you, filling you completely.

Clenching your eyes shut, you bit your lip as he stretched you wide open. "Oh god..." You groaned as he entered you further. "It's so big."

Yunho placed his hands on either side of your head, locking his gaze with yours as he began pumping his cock into you. Each stroke made him go deeper into you as he enjoyed watching your reactions.

Each thrust drove him deeper inside of you, making you cry out louder with each thrust. Reaching up, you placed your hands on the sides of his face, holding him in place as you gazed into his eyes. You could see the heat radiating from them as he stared at you hungrily.

"Fuck, Yunho." You moaned as you felt his hard dick sliding in and out of you. "You fill me up so well."

Taking a deep breath, he placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. His breathing was ragged as he savored the sensation of being buried deep inside you. Looking into your eyes, he knew that there would never be another person like you. Someone who understood him without saying a word. Someone who finally knew his identity and did not judge him for it. For some reason, he knew that nothing was more important to him than this moment. Nothing could ever come close to the feeling of having you wrapped around him. Nothing could possibly come close to what he felt right now.

Pulling back slightly, he stared deeply into your eyes before meeting your lips with his in a heated kiss. His lips crashed against yours as he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Pressing harder against you, he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his cock against your swollen clit. Both of you moaned loudly as he thrust faster and harder, intensifying the feeling that was building up within you.

Grinding his hips against yours even harder, he could feel his balls tightening. He let out a low growl as he slid his hands up and down your thighs, gripping your ass as he rocked into you faster and faster. You moaned into his mouth as he pumped into you harder, hitting that magical spot that sent fireworks shooting through your body.

"Oh fuck." You whimpered as you arched your back, pressing yourself against him. "Yes, yes, yes. Cum in me, Yunho."

Gripping your hips, he slammed his hips against yours as his cock exploded into your tight pussy. Warm cum flooded your depths, spilling over his shaft and causing both of you to cry out in pleasure. He stayed motionless within you, letting the pleasure wash over him as he slowly slid his softened cock from your body.

Unable to move or breathe, you laid there, trembling in ecstasy. The aftershocks of the orgasm were still coursing through you when he lifted his head and looked at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked you softly, his voice full of concern.

You smiled weakly. "More than okay." You answered as you reached up and kissed him softly.

Yunho laughed quietly, kissing you once more before pulling away. Laying next to you, he stroked your hair as you snuggled against him.

"Remind me to thank Hongjoong later." You said as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. "If he hadn't convince me to stay and join his party, I would have missed the oppurtunity to meet you."

Smiling, Yunho closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of you. "We would've found each other eventually." He mumbled as he nuzzled your neck. "We're pirates that are secretly nobles. How could we not find each other?"

Chuckling, you laid your head on his chest and sighed contentedly. "True."

Yunho rested his chin on top of your head as you lay next to him. "Can I ask you something?"

You turned your head and looked at him. "Of course."

He hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. "If somehow my family still had our title and status, would there have been a chance that we would have met? Would things have turned out differently?"

"If you were still Minister Jeong's son and I was still Minister Y/L/N's daughter, there would definitely have been a chance." You answered honestly. "Who knows, our fathers would probably marry us off to each other."

A slight smile appeared on Yunho's lips. "Maybe they would have. Do you think you would have accepted an arranged marriage if it was me?"

You let out a laugh. "Maybe... if I liked you." You teased him.

"Ah... that might be difficult then." Yunho laughed. "Because I'm pretty sure I would have ended up trying to win your heart."

"That's possible." You agreed with a nod. "But that's just wishful thinking. The past is the past. All we can do now is make our future bright."

"You're right." Yunho replied.

"I always am." You grinned.

Yunho chuckled. "Just promise me one thing."

"Anything." You replied immediately.

"If one day, you or I, were to return to face what we left behind... will you return with me?"

Startled, you looked up at him, surprised by his question. Your first instinct was to answer no. After everything that had happened, you wanted to forget about the world of noblemen and their royalty. But looking into Yunho's soft eyes and sincere expression, you knew that you couldn't say no to him.

You grasped his hand tightly. "I promise. If we get the chance to return to that life, I'll return with you."

#ateez #ateez fanfics #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader

[panboiiibish]

This ones gonna be a bit diffrent from the Thinking about series. Imma try and make it longer, it's going to be a full on fem reader, and of course NSFW under the line.

Warnings! Nsfw, predator/prey kink, chasing, semi-public nudity, CNC, really good acting, slight blood, biting, after care, and Werewolf.

Short puffed out breaths come from you, the rattling in your lungs telling how long you've been running through the dark forest. It has to be at least an hour since you've started. Having to run from the beast stalking your camp sight.

Now your believing it would have been better to just wait it out in your tent. But those glowing yellow eyes still haunt your memory. Its deep guttural huffs making your skin cover in goosebumps and fill your mind with the need to flee. And you did, not even grabbing a flashlight before dashing away from the relative safety of your camp fire.

Now lost in the woods, legs burning, you start to slow attempting to catch your breath. Though the subtle sounds of the forest only serve to scare you more. Overhead an owl flutters off from its perch. Scared by something in the distance while also scaring a yelp out of you as the crickets chime out their songs.

You tried laughing it off, but quickly bolted again as a deep growl had come from the brush besides you. Mind racing you tried to think of a way to escape it but those yellow eyes are back. Followed by the slight outline of a creature on all fours running alongside you.

Now in a better range to see your heart almost stills in your chest at the sight of it. Bark brown fur that blends in perfectly with it's surroundings, a lanky but tall form running on all fours. Though with its humanoid shape it seemed janky and far too practiced. And those eyes... The bright almost gold color tempts to real you in but its wide grinning teeth reminds you of why your running.

It doesn't let you go further along, becoming too.. exited. To catch it's prey, the creature quickly turns and barrels right for your smaller form. Its weight knocking you off the ground for a moment before you, thankfully, land into a slightly soft pile of leaves. Making you a breathless gasping heap on the forest floor as he circles.

It takes a moment to look you over almost making sure you are ok before crawling up from between your legs. Out of reflex your thighs clamp shut, stopped as they get blocked by the creatures waist. It makes a rumbling sound akin to a laugh as its eyes narrowed in onto your warm face. Then shifting to your heaving chest.

Your quick run through the woods had left you covered in dirt and leaves as the branches just made sure to snag onto your cloths and tear at them. Making you slightly regret wearing just a button up shirt to bed as now your stuck half nude under this creature.

Using your elbows to dig into the ground you tried to crawl away but that was stopped quickly. A clawed hand rested on top your torso as it effortlessly pinned your back down. Pressing just right to keep you breathing but not fleeing.

it made another sound, happy at your helpless expretion and trembling limbs. It made sure to flash you those pearly white canines before shoving his face into the crook of your neck.

Fear and adrenaline was pumping through your veins, alighting your burning joints as you whimpered out "please dont kill me!" You say, trying not to stammer as a slimy wet tongue rolls up your shoulder to your ear. He only responded with a chuckle before shifting his hands to your waist.

He moved you so easy almost like a little doll as his claws dug into the plush of your belly to yank you down into the lap of his legs. This allowed his aching cock to press right against your soaked panties. You hadn't even noticed the drooling of your cunt till he started rubbing against you. Sending a mix of emotions through your mind as your back arched from the stimulation.

It felt like too much, still panting, though now not because you were out of breath, while your hands gripped at his biceps. A weak attempt at pushing him away as his tongue worked against your skin. Licking over the chilled area before nipping at it with his terrifyingly sharp teeth.

You felt like he could just rip through your skin if not careful, and he could but what's the fun in ripping apart your favorite toy. No he wants to savor your sweet scent and salty skin for longer. He wants to make sure your covered in only his scent before taking you back to be his little stress ball.

And look at you, already being so perfect as you whine out and squirm against his aching cock. Bringing a good burn against his weeping tip from the friction of your panties. Though he was becoming inpatient, slowly loosing control of how hard his nips became as he started to rut against your puffy lips.

A yelp rang from you as a sharp sting followed his last nip, though it was more like a bite to your collarbone as it left a dribble of red blood leading down your chest to your still shirt covered brests. His actions stopped suddenly, those yellow eyes looking up into yours filled with worry till you gave him a slight nod and they went back to being lust filled.

Ducking his head down he savored the coppery tang of your blood. Lapping at it like a dog till your shirt stopped his trail. With a low growl he ripped at the material with his teeth. Shredding the white blood stained fabric as to unwrap his pretty little prey. And what a sight to see after he was done, your shivering little body just trembling as the cold air nips at your skin.

Your peeked nipples begging him to suck on them as the blood trail ended right at the dent of your breast. He dosnt wait to dig in. Quickly ducking his head down he laps at your feverish skin. Collecting all the blood and sweat in a single sweep before littering your areolas with teasing kisses.

He wanted to play with his prey. Really make you squirm to try and run from him as his cock dug into the only thing keeping him from knotting your pussy. It was exhilarating for the both of you as his hands moved. Slightly tugging on the flimsy cotton of your underwear before digging his claw into the side of the fabric.

All the while your whining out, trying to kick at him if it wasnt for his body being pressed so close to yours. And you both know there was nothing you could do with your hands to make him stop. Tugging at the length of fur on top his head only pulled out a deep growl.

So you resorted to clutching at the leaf littered floor. Praying to something that he would stop this suffering as you once again jolted from a rough thrust across your cunt. His tugging at your panties only made them dig into your soaked self, uncomfortable with how they started to rub at sensitive spots.

Finally the fabric ripped against his claw. Slow and tedious but it did leaving yourself fully open for his attacks now. And he did just that, teasing the tip against your hole before thrusting in. Gods was he big. Stretching your walls out so much your legs stopped squirming and just trembled around his waist.

The tapered tip was already pressed snug against your cervix but that didnt stop him from leaning in and pressing fully against you. Sending sparks of pleasure up your spine as your teeth bit down onto your lip. A tiny attempt to keep down the lewd sounds coming from your throat. He likes the challenge though, rolling his hips right before pulling back to start his thrusts.

His pace is deep and fast, making sure to rub right into that spot you like as your little body writhes under his with you quickly becomeing overwhelmed by the friction. In your little fight you had given up holding everything back. Letting your lips fall apart as strings of moans and whines left your lips.

It was hard not to make a sound with his cock kissing right against your spongey wall. And with his tongue working on your neck forcing your body to ragdoll. Perfectly limp in his arms except for the arching of your back and clenching hands around his shoulders.

The rough pinch of his claws against your thin skin and brushing of his fangs against your jugular sent all kinds of pleasure and pain signals through your brain. Instincts screaming to pull away from him and run again but the clamping of your cunt kept your mind a hazed mess barely remembering to breath.

It didnt take him long to get frustrated with this position having the ground not give him enough leverage to properly rut into your hole. He flipped you over making sure to press your face into the dirt with your ass high in the air. A whine of pain came from your lips as your knees dug into the leaf litter.

He turned that whine into a moan as he thrust back into your gummy walls. Really putting his weight into his thrusts while keeping you pinned to the floor. This new position gave you no wiggle room. Only enough space to press your back into his chest as claws pinched at your sensitive nubs.

Your cunt fluttered, the familiar feeling of an orgasm beging to knot up in your belly. It made your moans grumble out in mumbled please as his thrusts became more wild and stuttered. For once he even started to make soft sounds other then the growls. With every clench he whined out, feeling his knot starting to snag on the ring of your cunt making it just so much harder to move.

With one hard push he sheathed his full knot into you, dragging a keen out of your lips as the stretch was almost unbearable. Helping sooth the pain his hands moved, one going to kneed at your tit while the other brushed a knuckle against your swollen clit. His claws could truly hurt the sensitive nub so he rubbed at it gently with his knuckle. Moving in circles trying to draw more tight fluttering from your cunt and pretty little moans from your lips.

With a sharp whine that knot in your belly snapped, causing your body to spasm as a blinding orgasm rolled through. In conjunction he whimpered out too. Your clenching too much for his overstimulated cock causing him to cum, only beginning the prosses of filling your womb with this thick seed. Making sure to properly claim his prey with a deep bite to your shoulder mid spasm.

"you ok, love?" He finally spoke after carefully removing his maw from your skin. His his voice rough from all that growling and holding back. Your equally rough voice mutters out "perfect..." as it was all you could say between panting breaths.

He responded back with a soft chuckle cleaning off the claim bite and making sure to roll the two of you over onto your sides, getting comfortable in the leaves as he blanketed your waist with his arms. "Such a good prey... my pretty little prize..." he praised while pawing at your tummy. Soothing the ache his knot and cum was causing while cleaning up the leftover blood coating your skin.

"My perfect hunter" you muttered back before knocking out from exhaustion.

(Hi! This is Pan! I hope you like my smut XD this is the first fully dont nsfw iv done so ples leave comments and tell me if something sounded off. Anyways have a nice night!)

#idk wtf im doing #ideas #monster x reader #x reader #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #werewolf x you

[guiltysungho]

— boynextdoor when you say you want to fuck in public

genre. 18+ smut mdni

warning. public sex, oral (f. recieving), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, smell kink, hair pulling, mirror sex

wordcount. 300 - 400 each

a/n. idk how i feel about these tbh but i just want to get it out of my drafts atp. enjoy !

sungho was sure he misheard you, the room was filled with other students studying quietly, you couldn’t possibly want that now. he glances at you with a confused frown, but you really can’t hold yourself back leaning closer to him pressing your lips against his into a soft kiss, sliding your hand on his thigh feeling the heat from his growing member spread across the area. the setting is too risky for poor sungho even though he wants you just as much. his fingers slide around your throat pulling you back gently, holding you at a slight distance from his lips, your eyes just begging for more.

before you can say anything that would send him even more off the edge he grabs your hand leading you to a studyroom. the moment you step in he’s all over you, kissing your neck so hungrily as he presses his body against your you on the wall.

“we have to be quick, okay?” his hands under your skirt grabbing the rim of your panties, pulling them down and into his pocket. you let him work his way on you, thrusting his fingers in your cramped hole, loving how wet and desperate you were, taking out his cock through his zipper.

the thrill drives him wild, knowing that any second now someone would walk into the reserved space made his thrusts deeper. he’s not usually a risk taker but he could never resist you.

riwoo can’t help the smile that grows at the sound of that. the fact that you can’t hold back for a couple hours, and would rather have him fuck you in a theater filled with an audience, was more than attractive to him. luckily for you the area you occupied was less cramped with people and the lights were starting to turn off.

he gives you no warning before sliding his fingers inside your wet cunt, knowing from the soft gasps you let out that you were enjoying every moment of it. watching the way your legs trembled at his touch, forcing you to bite your lower lips to mute the noises you so badly wanted to make.

a movie is about one hour and thirty minutes and he plans on making good use of that time, he wouldn’t let you cum right away you didn’t get that luxury after putting the both of you at such a risk. he’d just leave you more and more needy, toying with your sensitive parts enjoying how hard you struggle to stay calm.

when he finally decides to fuck your aching cunt he sits you on his lap bending you over far enough to not block the large screen, using you like a fucktoy bouncing your ass up and down on his hard shaft. the feeling of your warm walls clenching around his member quickens his motion, the slight noise of your skins clapping seems like the only sound in the room just as you both come to an orgasm with the credits roll. the lights coming on make you realize the gravity of your action, every glance in your direction making you more guilty, but riwoo loved this perverse side of you.

the soft brush of your words against jaehyun’s ears are already enough to make him aroused but the words that come out are even worse. he turns to you with wide eyes wondering why you would joke about that but the desperate look in your eyes made it clear it was no joke, you wanted him right there by the sea.

the beach was basically empty the sun had set and no one was passing by apart from the occasional night walker so it was safe enough but it was a public space there was no saying what could happen.

as he weighed the pros and cons in his mind with you beside him, you take the opportunity to give him sweet kisses on his skin, his sensitive skin, neck down to his pebbled nipples. his fingers running through your hair as you suck on his skin.

“you’re driving me crazy” he breaths out lifting your head back up to meet his lips with yours, moaning softly into your mouth as you get on top of him grinding your lower body against his.

a loud thud from a distance makes him pull away immediately turning over to the sound that was made by the wind knocking over some parasols. you smile at his cute nervousness, placing a soft kiss on his pout. he wraps his arms around your waist as you kneel inside front of him, nuzzling into the comfort of your belly, the smell from your throbbing hole driving him more needy.

soft kisses on your belly down to your bikini bottom, pressing his nose against it, letting his tongue taste the leak escaping through your panties. he unties your bikini delicately, revealing your pretty pussy. he wastes no more time, going in head first kissing your perfect folds. he’s so drunk on the smell, the taste all his worries vanish. his tongue pushing in your walls brush so slightly against your spot making your hips jerk.

he takes such good care of you, sucking gently on your clit, he’s about sure that the lewd sounds escaping your lips at every tongue flick might make him release himself in his trunks but he can’t help himself, he just loves your sweet honey.

taesan smirks at you on the side of the couch after reading your horny text, your feet are rubbing against his growing bulge as you stare at him daringly, he’s amused by it. he wouldn’t have thought you would go so far in a room with your friends but he liked that about you, you were unpredictable.

unbelievable too, he knew this was probably just for show but he wouldn’t let you off so easily. he spreads his legs open leaning back on the seat before tapping his thighs for you to make yourself at home. you make sure to press your ass against him, enjoying all the heat that came from it.

you only dared to do these stuff when you were sure you wouldn’t get caught when all your friends were focused on something else in another room but taesan didn’t care that much for the eyes lingering, you would be the one they would watch because you allowed it happen to yourself, you let yourself get used in such a setting.

his fingers rub against your swollen pearl through your panties feeling your wetness seep through the thin fabric as you struggle to keep still from the feeling. the sudden sound of footsteps bringing you to panic tapping his hand repeatedly for him to stop but action only makes him quicken his pace.

“Is this not what you wanted?” he whispers into your ear, pulling away just as your friend approaches you asking for something so pointless you can’t even think, sending him away with an “i don’t know” your mind completely blurred by the heavy stimulation on your clit.

“Do you still want it baby?” sliding his fingers into your hole he doesn’t need an answer he already knows how desperately you do, turning yourself around to face him thighs around his waist.

you let him take charge, let him use you completely, kissing you so hungrily as he fucks your tight pussy, whispering filthy words on your lips about how naughty you are. he’s so rough with you, making you beg for him to let you cum on his dick after he’d creampied your needy hole.

as he sat there leehan’s eyes were already all over your body, watching you slip in and out of the dresses you’d picked out from the aisles. he was really trying not to make it a big deal but it was like you were teasing him on purpose. bending over to take off your skirts giving him a perfect view of your ass, the lengths of the skirts only getting shorter, his eyes couldn’t budge from your peeking cameltoe as you asked what he thought, nodding absentmindedly before finally tearing his gaze away giving you a tight lipped smile.

he was so oblivious it was cute, he didn’t want to assume anything but you were practically begging for it at this point. you finally make your move taking his hand, pressing his index finger against your cameltoe letting him poke, play with your lips through your panties. he looks up at you begging for more confirmation that he was doing what you wanted.

“this is risky sweetheart… promise you’ll be quiet?” you nod carefully running your fingers through his mane as he mindlessly caresses your thighs with his fingers, letting them glide along your inner thighs. just soft brushes from his fingertips but the feeling is exhilarating making your pussy clench around nothing but air.

“don’t make promises you can’t keep” he smiles at you as he stood up now looking down at you with that cocky smile. he turns you around slowly to look at yourself in the mirror, at how needy you look, as he presses gentle kisses on your shoulder.

the feeling of his cock poking your ass only made you want him inside you more, rolling your hips erotically for him. he didn’t stop his teasing pushing his cock against your hole through your panties, his precum staining the fabric.

he knows you won’t be quiet when he starts fucking you, you never are, so he’ll keep you desperate a little longer to make up for you breaking the promise. it’s not your fault his dick just hits every spot so perfectly you can’t help the moaning and whining.

he wraps his hand around your mouth around your jaw, giving you a soft kiss on the head before thrusting himself inside you, watching the way your eyes roll back in the reflection. your muffled whines against his ears make it so thrilling.

your vision blurs at every thrust, completely lost on the feeling of him inside you, his hard thickness spreading out your pussy like it’s never been used before. he loves how easily you cum for him, letting his fingers stroke your clit as his cock fucks you dumb, watching how beautifully you crumble from his touch. if you ask nicely, he’ll fuck you anywhere as long as you’re quiet.

#bnd #bnd x reader #boynextdoor #gs.files #boynextdoor smut #bnd smut #leehan smut #taesan smut #riwoo smut #sungho smut #myung jaehyun smut

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 12: It Doesn’t Need to Mean Anything

You and Joel take Sarah to the concert. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 11, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie are still morons. Also... mild smut 🫠 Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.7K (no one look at me)

A/N: So much thanks to my beautiful bestie @dundienominee, official Swiftie Consultant for this chapter. She was integral to song selection and Eras Tour outfit choices because I am too casual of a fan to have the knowledge to do that well. Thank you thank you thank you for this and for always letting me bounce the angstiest shit off you, Bestie! Love you!!

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

You stopped sleeping over at Joel’s. 

The distance took more adjustment than you’d expected and it wasn’t something either of you had explicitly stated, it just felt… necessary. You were getting too close to Joel - not something you would have even considered possible, once upon a time - and you needed to pull back before you ended up wounded and alone like you’d been more than a decade earlier. 

He began separating from you that night, when his hand was still holding your face and your body was still tight against his. You kissed him until he pulled away - not wanting it to end - and when he finally broke the kiss, your faces stayed close together for a moment, close enough that your noses touched and you could see the reflection from the sparks of the fireworks in his eyes. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his palm at the small of your back, the roughness of the callus under his fingers at the nape of your neck. If someone had asked you, in that moment, where you were, you couldn’t have told them. 

And then a gunshot cracked through the air, making the both of you jump and shock away from each other. 

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Joel snapped, looking around as though there was anyone else around you at the water’s edge to blame. “Shit’s dangerous and there are still idiots who decide to shoot guns in the air just because the goddamn calendar changed, fuckin’ morons…” 

There were a few feet between you now and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in pajama pants and a long sleeved t-shirt and your nipples were pricked from the cold and the kiss and probably visible through the thin cotton. You crossed your arms over your chest, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed. 

“At least we’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said. “Less chance of the bullet falling on a person…” 

“Still,” he muttered, crossing his arms too. “Makes me nervous. Dumbasses like that should have their guns taken away, don’t act right…” 

You tightened your jaw but nodded, still watching him. 

“Sorry,” he said. You weren’t sure why. “We should probably get back inside, though. Gotta get the kid to bed, she’s cranky if she don’t get enough sleep….” 

“Can’t have a cranky Sarah,” you smiled a little. 

Joel looked at you for a moment and, for a delusional second, you half expected him to kiss you again. Then, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his flannel pants and rocked back on his heels once before starting up the hill toward the house. For the first few steps, he walked to the side almost as much as he did forward, until there was a good five feet between the two of you. You ignored the pang of hurt inside your chest and gave him a tight smile as he held the back door open for you, finding Tommy and Sarah on their feet and yelling at the TV as they raced in Mario Kart. 

He sat as far from you as he could at breakfast the next morning, taking the spot beside Sarah and across from Tommy at the kitchen table and pressing himself against the wall in the hallway when you ran into him there and needed past, making sure your body didn’t so much as brush against his the rest of the holiday weekend. 

When you went back to normal life, it reminded you of the few days after Joel had accidentally seen your shirtless selfie: radio silence. 

This time, you refused to crack first. If he regretting kissing you, that was on him. It wasn’t like you’d begged him to. Hell, you hadn’t even asked him to. He’d offered - after kissing you out of the blue just the day before no less - and now he couldn’t even look at you. Or text you, apparently. 

But you were starting to get a few steps beyond anxious when you still hadn’t heard from him by Friday afternoon. You hadn’t spent a weekend without Joel since you’d found each other again. You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself if you weren’t with Joel. Even though there was definitely a book you should be writing, doing that when you weren’t sure where you stood with your best friend seemed impossible. 

Still determined to not be the first one to reach out but not willing to face the prospect of being alone in your house with your cat - and with the temptation to call your almost ex-husband who actually had texted you since you’d last seen him - you got on Tinder. 

You swiped during a break between classes after triple checking that your age parameters wouldn’t catch any students, largely striking out until you found Stephen’s profile. He was a professor, too, but at Austin Community College. There was a picture of him in Napa Valley in his profile and one of him with a little girl (one he said was his niece) sitting on his shoulders. You smiled at that. You didn’t think you’d ever have children - though, really, you wanted some - but there was something about knowing a man was good with kids… 

You swiped right and got the alert that it was a match. He’d already swiped on you. Your heart sped up a little. Maybe you weren’t completely undatable, after all. 

Stephen messaged you just a few minutes later. 

Hi! How’s your Friday? 

You were working on typing a reply when another message popped up. 

Not to be a creep but… are you really who you say you are? 

You frowned at your phone for a moment. 

Hi back! It’s alright for the first Friday of a new semester. How about you? And yes, the last time I checked. Why?

It took him a little longer to respond that time. 

Let me know if I’m failing on the creep front but I may be what you call a fan. 

You laughed once. 

A fan? 

A fan. Your writing is brilliant, I can’t help it. 

Well, I have good editors. 

I’m sure you do but editors only get you so far. Trust me, I teach the intro English classes, I know. 

You laughed again and the two of you messaged back and forth until you had to go teach your last class of the day. When you finished, you checked your phone before leaving the lecture hall and there was a message waiting for you. 

I hope this isn’t too fast but can I take you out tomorrow? I’m sure you already have plans but on the off chance you don’t… 

You smiled. 

No plans that don’t involve my cat. What did you have in mind? 

Stephen, as it happened, had plenty in mind.

After getting a drink and chatting for a bit, he took you to salsa dancing night, something you’d never had thought to do yourself in a million years. The music was loud, the room was crowded and the energy of it all made your skin pebble as you smiled. 

“C’mon,” he held his hand out to you. “Let’s dance.” 

“Oh, no,” you waved him off. “I can’t.” 

“I’ll show you,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He led you to a quiet corner of the dance floor and showed you the most basic steps and you let him guide you through it as you watched your feet and tried not to step on his toes. By the end, you were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he was laughing, too, putting an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to a booth in the corner. 

Stephen got you a cocktail and settled in across from you, the two of you talking about the semester so far and books and your favorite places to travel. 

You were surprised to find that you were having… well, fun. You hadn’t really had fun out with someone who wasn’t Joel in so long the concept seemed almost foreign to you. And Stephen was smart, you had shared interests, he was sweet and funny and insightful. You liked him. 

But… he wasn’t Joel. 

That was the thought you were trying to shake when he left you alone at the table, excusing himself to the bathroom and to grab another round of drinks and you decided to check your phone. 

Gale had texted you, seeing if you wanted to get coffee. Like the last few texts he’d sent, you didn’t respond. You knew, if you did, you’d end up back in his bed and you’d never be able to move on from him, not really. Hell, you’d let yourself become the other woman while he carried on with your younger, prettier, thinner replacement, keeping her on his arm at every faculty event and book release he used to bring you to while fucking you on the side. A mistress to your own husband. Pathetic.

But the temptation to respond was still there. If there was one man besides Joel who’d been able to hold your attention, it was Gale. When you’d met him, you hadn’t been sure you’d ever recover from loving Joel. It seemed like he would be there, as some part of you, forever. And that was true, he never really left. It was more that you seemed to find room inside yourself to love someone who wasn’t Joel. You realized now that it hadn’t been able to love him as much as you did Joel - or even, really, in the same way - but you did love him. That, now that you were faced with the intensity of how Joel seemed to take hold of you, seemed miraculous. You didn’t expect to find that feeling again so easily.

You looked toward the bathrooms, where you knew Stephen had disappeared to. Stephen, the man who you had every reason to have feelings for, who had taken you out for a great date, who could be someone that could pull you out of this hideous pattern with Joel and Gale if you just gave him the chance. 

You sighed and closed your texts just as a new one came through, this one from Joel. 

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard from him in so long that just seeing his name hit you hard. You glanced up. Stephen was just coming out of the men’s room and heading for the bar. 

You opened the text. 

This radio silence shit sucks. 

You scoffed a little. 

You started it. 

He responded immediately. 

You at home? Come over. Sarah’s about to go to bed, we can watch the next Curtis and Viper commentary in the marathon. 

Sorry, I can’t tonight. 

You looked up to the bar again, Stephen still waiting to talk to the bartender. By the time you looked back down at your phone, Joel had texted back. 

Why not? Puck will behave for a few hours, promise. 

You frowned. 

Believe it or not, I’m not home with my cat on a Saturday night. 

Bullshit.

Is not. I’m on a date, actually. I do have a life outside of you, you know. 

Stephen was just getting to the bar to order when your phone screen lit up, Joel sticking his tongue out at you taking over the whole of it as he called you. 

You sighed and answered it. 

“Hi.” 

“Who the fuck are you on a date with?” Joel demanded. “It had better not be fucking Brad…” 

“So good to hear from you,” you said. “How have you been for the past, I don’t know, WEEK.” 

“Five days. Answer the question, Goldie,” he said. “Are you out with your goddamn husband?” 

“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m out with a guy named Stephen, he’s very nice actually…” 

“Who the fuck is Stephen?” 

“I met him on Tinder, thank you very much,” you said. 

“What?” Joel said and you could picture him leaning forward on his couch, his elbow on his knee. “Wait, when? I didn’t vet some fucker named Stephen…” 

“You don’t get to vet people when you don’t talk to me for a week,” you hissed into the phone, glancing at the bar to see Stephen paying for the drinks. “Besides, I don’t need you to review my damn dates like some kind of baby sitter…” 

“Five days. And you have shit taste in men,” he cut you off. “So yeah, you do.” 

“Yeah, well, when you ghost me…” 

“I didn’t fuckin’ ghost you!” 

“When you GHOST me for a week…” 

“Five days!” 

“…you don’t get to judge me for my life choices!” 

“I didn’t ghost you,” he snapped. “I thought we could both use a little space…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I didn’t think you’d do something stupid when I left you unsupervised for 30 goddamn seconds!” 

“OK this isn’t stupid,” you said. “He’s a nice guy, he’s an English professor who likes wine and has actually asked me questions about myself…” 

“Look at you go.” 

“Fuck off,” you said, watching as Stephen headed back to the table with drinks. “He’s coming back, I have to go.” 

“No, hold on…” 

“Bye!” 

You hung up and slapped the phone face down on the table with a little too much force as Stephen smiled, setting your cocktail in front of you. 

“If that’s a friend calling to get you out of this, I promise I won’t give you a hard time,” he said, a slightly teasing edge to his voice. 

“No,” you laughed. “Well, I mean, it is a friend but no, not calling to get me out of it. Just a friend with a history of just the worst timing and a total inability to read the room.”

“She sounds great,” he laughed back. 

You didn’t correct him on the gender, instead just laughing with him and taking a sip of your drink.

The two of you closed the bar down and went to Waffle House after, sitting on opposite sides of the booth so you could stretch out and put your feet up as you pushed your syrup soaked chocolate chip waffle around on your plate. 

“So,” you said as you watched Stephen from across the table. “Not to put a damper on things but… I feel like you should know that I’m not looking for anything too serious right now…” 

“Oh,” Stephen frowned a little. “Can… Can I ask why?” 

“My life is kind of complicated at the moment?” You said it more like a question, as though the difficulties were somehow negotiable. “My divorce isn’t finalized yet, my sister is pregnant and I’m her only support system, I have a book deadline later this year…” I can’t stop thinking about kissing my best friend. You didn’t say that. “I don’t feel like I can really be a great partner to anyone right now. But I would like someone I can have fun with when I can? If you’re OK with that?” 

He nodded slowly, looking at his mug of coffee for a moment. 

“Do you know how long it’s going to be complicated?” He asked. “Just… Cards on the table, I already really like you. I don’t want to get in over my head here.” 

“Another few months at least,” you said. “But not forever. At least, I hope not forever.” 

He nodded again, turning his mug slowly on the table and you watched as the handle went back and forth. 

“I can handle a few months,” he said eventually, looking over at you. 

You smiled a little, wishing that him saying that made your heart pick up the way it did when Joel touched you. 

“Good,” you said. “Me too.” 

When the two of you left the restaurant, he went to kiss you goodbye but you dodged it, kissing him on the cheek instead. By the time you were home, you had a flurry of texts from Joel, the last one demanding to know when you made it home safely. 

I’m home, you control freak. 

It was so late you didn’t expect a response but one came through anyway as you stood at your bathroom sink taking off your makeup. 

Glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Why are you still up? Go to BED! 

I can’t sleep if I know you’re out there with some random! 

You rolled your eyes. 

Well now that you know no one has stuffed me in the trunk of their car… 

I’ll try to care less in the future. 

“Jesus,” you muttered to yourself as Joel texted again. 

Lunch tomorrow? 

Tomorrow Sunday or tomorrow Monday? You wrote. It’s after midnight.

Lunch Sunday, he said stop being a dick.

You laughed a little at that. At least things weren’t that different, even if you wished they were. 

Lunch the next day felt normal, even as Joel demanded to see Stephen’s Tinder profile and look at some of his messages. Most things went back to normal after that, too. Everything except for the sleepovers. 

But now that you were getting ready to leave for Dallas for the concert, you were nervous. You had one hotel room, a small suite the two of you had picked out together, one with two beds in the bedroom and a pull out sofa in the living room. When you were booking the trip, it made sense. Sarah could sleep in a bed with either of you or in the living room on her own and either way, you and Joel wouldn’t be beholden to the bedtime of an 11-year-old. It’s not like you needed space from each other then. 

Now, things felt different. It had been three months since you’d last shared a room with Joel. The casual intimacy that had existed between you had evaporated like mist and you wondered if it had always been a causal, ephemeral thing even when it had felt so grounding. 

At least, you thought, you’d have the separate beds. You’d booked the room before sharing a bed was quite so commonplace in your friendship. At least you wouldn’t need to be quite that close to him knowing how he felt about it. That was a comfort. 

And you were looking forward to some distance from your sister. Now that she was getting closer to her due date, you were together all the time. From lamaze classes to parenting seminars to going with her to AA and NA meetings as moral support, you were with Anna more now than you had been since the two of you were girls and it was summer vacation and you had nothing else to do. 

“I swear to God that one old mom thinks we’re a couple,” she snickered as the two of you got pancakes after a lamaze class one day. 

“What?” You gaped at her. “Ew!” 

“Oh, for sure,” she said, reaching over and stealing a piece of bacon off your plate. You glared at her and she shrugged. “What? I’m eating for two.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“But she definitely thinks we’re lesbians,” she continued. “She was giving me the stink eye before you came in today. I think she thinks you’re the scary one, by the way, because she definitely stopped when you got there.” 

“Jesus,” you shuddered. “Wrong on so many levels. One, you’re my baby sister and that’s just gross. Two, you are definitely the scary one.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Anna nodded seriously and then laughed. “Besides, if you were my girlfriend I definitely wouldn’t be letting you run off with some old flame for the weekend…” 

“Joel is not an old flame,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Sure,” she said in a teasing tone. “And Stephen is fine with this?” 

“Stephen doesn’t get a say in what I do,” you replied. “We’re just seeing each other now and then, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, giving you a look that you weren’t sure you wanted to deal with. 

You hadn’t told her about the kiss with Joel. You hadn’t told her about losing your virginity to Joel before you left for college, either. But somehow, she seemed to know. Your sister, for all the distance you’d forced and all the troubles she’d had, just knew. 

And that made you more nervous than you should have been for spending the weekend away. 

But you packed a bag - featuring a costume for the concert picked from your closet by Sarah - and headed for Joel’s, Puck in his little cat carrier on your passenger seat. 

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah rocketed out of the house, her curls flying as she ran for your car. “It’s here! We’re really going!” 

“We are!” You said with a laugh, catching her as she threw herself at you. Joel followed behind her, getting your duffle from the back seat. 

“Did you remember your outfit?” She asked, pulling back and looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“I absolutely did,” you smiled at her before looking at her dad. “Hey Joel.” 

“Goldie,” he gave you a nod. “You ready for this?” 

“For a road trip with my favorite kid?” You asked. “Absolutely.” 

You got Puck settled at Joel’s - his neighbors, the Adlers, promising to look in on both cats while you were away - and got loaded into Joel’s truck, a bag of snacks and cooler of drinks sitting next to Sarah in the back seat. 

“We’re listening from the start of the discography,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing the input for her phone. “We need to make sure we know all the eras before we get there.” 

Joel looked like he was trying not to laugh. 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

It was easy to fall into life with Sarah and Joel, even just for the few hours in the truck. Sarah dramatically performing into an imaginary microphone in the back seat, Joel reminding her to buckle back in every time she undid her seatbelt for a particularly big dance move. You stopped in West for pastries and chocolate milk and, by the time you pulled into the hotel on Friday evening, the three of you were a little hopped up on sugar and in desperate need of real food. 

“Oh this place is fancy,” Sarah said, a mocking and overwrought English accent on the last word as you looked around the lobby. 

“Well, needed a room with space for the three of us…” Joel said, voice trailing off as he looked for the check in counter before spotting it. “Don’t go wanderin’ off, alright? I’ll get us checked in, we can drop the bags and figure out something besides junk for dinner…” 

“But I like junk” Sarah said. 

“Yeah, I know you do,” he said before looking to you. “Keep her out of trouble, will you?” 

“Bold of you to assume she’d be the problem.” 

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he smirked a little before going to get in the check in line. 

You stuck close to Sarah, who was using the short wall of the lobby garden as a balance beam as she worked out the pent up energy from the hours spent in the car. 

“How many songs do you think she’ll sing?” Sarah asked after the spun on the end of the wall, her sneakers squeaking on the polished stone. 

“I dunno,” you said. “Probably a lot since the concert is a few hours long.” 

“I don’t want to see spoilers but my friends keep sending videos,” she said. “I haven’t watched any of them, I want to see it all in person.” 

She did a jump like she was imitating a gymnast, making you instinctively reach for her, trying to hide your hiss of fear as she landed smoothly on the narrow wall. She looked at your worried expression and laughed. 

“Please be careful,” you said as she started walking the wall again. “If you get yourself killed I’ll have to go through the hassle of selling these tickets online…” 

Sarah snorted. 

“You’d miss me,” she said, teasing. 

“That too,” you smiled a little before looking toward the check in counter. Joel was at the front now but he looked to be in deep conversation with the man behind the desk. You frowned. “Stay put, kiddo.” 

“Keep jumping on the wall, got it.” 

You shot Sarah a glare before heading for the desk. 

“No, that’s not going to work,” Joel was saying. “I booked the room I booked for a reason, I need two beds…” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the man said. “I’m afraid we’re completely full this weekend and this is the only room I can put you in…” 

“What’s happening?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together and looking between them. 

“They don’t have the room we picked,” Joel said, eyes darting quickly to you, almost like he was afraid to look at you. “They only have rooms with one bed…” 

“Wait, what?” You looked at the man behind the counter. “Seriously? We have a confirmation number, we…” 

“I know, and I apologize,” he said. “With the concerts, we’re booked solid this weekend and there must have been a mixup with an earlier check in. I can’t move someone who’s already checked in. I already looked at our sister property across town but they’re completely full, too…” 

Joel looked at you, his eyes a little wider than you were used to seeing them. Almost like he was going to panic at just the thought of sharing a bed with you. 

“We can make it work, right?” You said, watching him. “I mean… it’s not that bad, is it?” 

“Right,” Joel said. “Yeah, you’re right…” 

He turned back to the man. 

“I guess we’ll take it,” he said. “Three keys, please.” 

Your stomach knotted a little. You knew the situation was less than ideal, that the two of you had been actively avoiding that level of contact in the months since the new year, but it’s not as though you’d never shared a bed. Was kissing you really so bad that Joel was on the verge of a panic at the thought of sleeping next to you for two nights? 

Maybe it was. Maybe you hadn’t fully understood his level of disgust at it.

You weren’t stupid, after all. You knew what he thought about kissing you. And if you hadn’t already known, you knew for sure when you overheard him talking to Tommy about it. 

“It was a mistake,” he’d said when he thought you couldn’t hear. “It won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…” 

Being close to you - touching you - was stupid shit. Even under the guise of friendship it was stupid shit. That had stung. 

It shouldn’t have.

You’d known he felt that way, you had for years. It shouldn’t have made your chest tighten and your stomach turn the way it did. He’d made it clear - since the first time the two of you had ever done anything physical - that it was a mistake. You weren’t about to risk losing him by pressing it, no matter how much you wanted to scream that he was the one who kissed you, not the other way around.

But, you supposed, it didn’t really matter. If he didn’t want you that close to him, you weren’t about to force it on him. He was still happy enough to be your friend, even if he didn’t want to sleep next to you anymore. That was fine. You could live with that. And you could share a bed with him for a weekend without blurring that line again. 

Joel got the keys and you got Sarah from her makeshift balance beam before heading up to the room. He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot on the elevator ride up and you tried to keep from grinding your teeth as Sarah bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, shooting off like a rocket the second the doors opened. 

“Room 1521!” Joel called after her as she took off down the hall. “Jesus, I swear that kid has the energy to power a small city…” 

She beat you there and Joel handed her a key and Sarah did the honors of letting you into the room. 

“Oh cool!” She squealed, running in. “I get the couch bed right?” 

“Uh…” Joel’s eyes darted to you. 

“There’s a TV by it!” She ran to it. “Oh and the fridge is in this room! This one’s mine!” 

You just shrugged at him and he sighed. 

“Sure is, baby girl,” he said. “You wanna get changed before we go get something to eat?” 

“Nope!” She said, kicking off her shoes and jumping from couch cushion to couch cushion. “But if we get back early enough, can we go swimming?” 

“Sure,” Joel said. “Give me n’Goldie a minute and we’ll head out…” 

You gave Joel a tight smile and led the way to the bedroom. 

The bed, at least, was a king sized one, bigger than yours or Joel’s at home. You could keep to your separate sides of it well enough. 

“I’ll take the side by the door,” he said. You were about to protest - that was the right side of the bed and he always slept on the left - but kept your mouth shut. You didn’t have a side of the bed with Joel. Or, you shouldn’t, anyway. “Did you need to change?” 

“Just out of these leggings,” you said. “I only need a minute.” 

“Right,” he said. “I gotta use the bathroom anyway, so…” 

He stood there, awkward, for a moment before heading to the attached bathroom. You set your bag on the long, low dresser and unzipped it, rifling around for a moment until you found your jeans. You peeled off your leggings and folded them up, setting them beside your bag when your phone started vibrating in your jacket pocket. 

You frowned. You almost never got phone calls. You pulled your phone out and saw Anna’s ID picture and you answered quickly. 

“Anna?” You said, heart racing. “Is everything OK? Are you OK? Is the baby OK?” 

“What?” She asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You relaxed a little. 

“You just don’t usually call,” you said. “What’s up?” 

“Oh,” she laughed. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean freak you out. I just got an email from the OBGYN, they need to move my scan next week, can you do Wednesday afternoon?” 

“Is Thursday an option?” You asked. “I have more afternoon classes on Wednesdays…” 

“You decent?” Joel called from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Looks like they have Thursday,” Anna said. 

“Hang on!” You called to Joel, still standing there in your pale pink satin panties, before turning your attention back to Anna. “Thursday is better, just let me know a time and I can adjust some office hours.” 

“Great!” She said. “I’ll text you the details. Have fun at the concert!” 

You were about to say your goodbyes when the bathroom door opened and, suddenly, you were standing there in your underwear in front of your best friend. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, Joel’s eyes wide and ranging over you as you stood, frozen with your phone clutched to the side of your head. 

“Sorry!” Joel said quickly, turning around as you scrambled to hang up the phone and cover yourself. 

“I said hang on!” You said, grabbing your jeans. Joel glanced back over his shoulder before whipping his head back around. 

“I thought you said come on!” He said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping into the pants as quickly as you could, trying to wrestle the denim quickly over the swell of your ass before buttoning them. “There, you’re safe.” 

“Sorry,” he said again, turning around cautiously. As though you were a grenade that might explode if he caught a glimpse of your bared skin. “I wasn’t trying… I’m sorry.” 

“I said it’s fine,” you grabbed your purse. “Let’s get something besides junk food in Sarah otherwise I’m sure we’re going to pay for it later.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Joel was still tense next to you at dinner and you damn near chugged a glass of wine in the hopes it would help untie the knot in your stomach. 

Thankfully, you’d brought beer in the cooler from Austin and you grabbed two of them - putting the cans in koozies to cover the labels - when taking Sarah to the pool after dinner. The two of you sat and watched her play with other girls who, you assumed, were also in town for the concert. 

Joel relaxed a little then, just the two of you tucked into a corner of the hot tub with a beer in his hand. 

“Who knew I’d feel so old at 33,” he groaned a little, leaning his head back so it rested on the edge of the hot tub. “Just drove a few hours and I’m already wonderin’ how I’m gonna keep up with her tomorrow.” 

“We do have to keep her busy most of the day,” you smiled a little, watching as she lined up at the edge of the deep end of the pool next to three other girls. They jumped in one by one, each girl doing some kind of dramatic twist or funny hand gesture as they fell toward the water, shrieking and laughing as they came up for air. “It’s going to be a challenge.” 

“Thanks for doin’ this,” he said, tone more serious as he looked at you. “It really does mean a lot. We don’t have a lot of people, always felt like I’ve let her down by not having more. I’m glad she’s got someone else who cares about her, you know?” 

You smiled a little. 

“Of course I care about her,” you said. “She means the world to me. You both do.” 

His eyes traced your face and your heart beat a little faster in spite of yourself. 

“Hey Dad!” Sarah called, pulling you away from each other. “Aunt Goldie! Watch this!” 

“We’re watchin’!” Joel called back. 

Sarah looked to her new friend - a girl who looked to be about her age with red hair in a braid down her back - and they gave each other a nod before running for the edge of the pool and jumping for the water, the girls twisting in the air to slap each other’s hands before they splashed down. You laughed and clapped as they surfaced, Sarah beaming. 

“Looks great, baby girl,” Joel said. “But no runnin’ by the pool, just like at home. It’s not safe.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes as she swam to the side of the pool and going back to her new found friends. 

Things felt almost normal as the three of you headed back to the room, towels over your shoulders and a trail of water behind you in the elevators. Sarah settled quickly once you were back in the hotel room, Joel telling her she couldn’t have any more soda or juice after she brushed her teeth but he did let her pick a movie to put on the TV as she settled into the pull out couch, looking like she was getting away with something as she watched Legally Blonde from her bed. 

Joel stayed in the bathroom far longer than you thought he’d need to as you both got changed into pajamas. You’d seen him go through his nighttime routine enough times, you knew he was trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally see you in your panties again. 

You had, at least, planned ahead for sharing a room with Joel, packing a fairly conservative set of sleep shorts with a matching shirt and changing quickly so you could spare him the sight. You climbed in bed when you were done, staying as far on your side as you could reach, a book propped open on your knees. 

Joel knocked before opening the door, anyway, and you winced as you replied. 

“You’re safe,” you said. He still opened the door cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you tucked below the covers. You smiled tightly at him as he climbed in bed beside you, his curls still damp from the pool. You tried not to just look at him - you shouldn’t want to just look at him, he was your friend - as he got settled and scrolled his phone for a moment before he looked toward you. 

“Want to watch a shitty movie?” 

“God, yes,” you said, putting your bookmark in. 

Joel laughed a little and turned the TV on, finding the Hallmark channel with some particularly insipid movie you didn’t need to know the plot of to keep up with, even coming in half way through. 

By the time it was over, the two of you had drifted closer on the bed, both of you a little breathless from laughter. You turned out the lights and lay down, more beside each other than against each other, and you stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that the warmth soaking into you came from Joel. 

“M’sorry about the room mix up,” he said quietly into the dark. “I hope it’s not… I don’t want you to feel weird.”

“I don’t,” you said quickly. “It’s fine.” 

“Good,” he said. “Because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable…” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either,” your voice dropped low enough that it was almost a whisper. 

“You don’t,” he said, almost as fast as you’d responded to him. 

“Good,” you said after a moment. “Goodnight, Joel.” 

“Night, Goldie.” 

***

Joel had a hard-on when he woke up. 

A goddamn boner pressed against his best friend’s ass, an ass he’d seen barely concealed by the softest looking fucking satin or silk or whatever the fuck women’s panties were made of, a sight he couldn’t seem to shake. Not that it was that different from seeing you in a swim suit but there was something about the intimacy of seeing you in a state of undress when he knew - or was pretty damn sure, anyway - that he was the only man who’d seen you that way in months. He liked that sight being reserved just for him. 

He needed to get the fuck over that. 

He was trying to. Really, truly, sincerely he was trying. He’d managed to get some distance from you - though that had helped less than he really expected. But he couldn’t bring himself to just cut you off. 

Even though that would probably be the smart thing to do. 

Clearly you didn’t feel for him the way he felt for you. He’d kissed you - twice - and you acted like it was nothing. Hell, you’d jumped on Tinder as soon as you got home from the cabin and found fucking Stephen. His stomach had twisted in on itself when he saw that text. Consciously, he knew you didn’t feel the same way he did but fuck, he’d hoped it would take you longer than a few days to do something like resort to Tinder after he kissed you. 

And now here he was, his dick against your ass as you slept tucked against him. He wondered what had done it. Had he dreamed about you and those pink little panties only to forget it when he woke? Had he just felt your body against him as you slept, all curved back into him and making your home against his torso with your legs all tucked up toward your stomach so the lush of your ass was nestled right against his cock? Had he just smelled your hair from where you’d moved in the night, the scent of you all close and beautiful driving him to a step beyond wanting? 

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. All that mattered now was making sure you didn’t know it happened. 

He adjusted himself delicately, his cock aching and leaky in the cotton of his pajama pants, rolling slowly onto his back and leaving the arm you were currently using as a pillow below your head. Joel tried to gently extract his arm, hoping he could make it to the bathroom and - after locking the doors - jerking off fast and hard to the memory of you in those little panties

No such luck. You stirred then, uncoiling yourself and stretching out with a satisfied little moan that seemed to have a direct line to his hard cock, making it twitch in the confines of his pants. 

“Morning,” you said, voice groggy as you adjusted, lifting off his arm and arching your back before relaxing down into the mattress. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cramp your space…” 

“S’fine,” Joel said quickly. The two of you lay in awkward quiet for a moment. “Should probably get movin’…” 

“Yup,” you said, getting up quickly. “Big day ahead of us.” 

The three of you got ready to go - Sarah already eager to get into her concert outfit and you had to talk her down - before heading to breakfast. Joel just watched you and Sarah talk about her favorite song lyrics over bacon and eggs and wondered how the hell he was supposed to move on from you when you were like this with his daughter. 

You went to the aquarium that day, you and Joel just hanging back as Sarah pressed her face against the glass at every exhibit, finding the fish she liked best and trying to learn everything she could about them. 

Joel found himself watching you almost as much as he watched his daughter, the streaks of refracted light from the water catching on your eyes and skin and hair.

“What?” You asked when you caught him, a puzzled smile on your face. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, looking toward the tank. 

“OK,” you laughed a little. “Weirdo.” 

“That’s me,” he smiled, shaking his head a bit. 

“Well, as long as you’re aware.” 

The three of you went back to the room with plenty of time to get ready and Sarah practically shoved Joel into the living room the second they were there. 

“You’re a boy,” she said before she closed the door. “We have a lot more to do than you.” 

There were a few seconds of quiet before the Taylor Swift started playing and Joel laughed a little, distracting himself with a phone game while you and his daughter gave each other makeovers in the bedroom. 

“Dad!” Sarah poked her head out a while later. 

He set the phone down. 

“Yes baby girl?” 

“Are you ready?” She said. “Because we have to do a fashion show.” 

“Fashion show it up, kiddo,” he said. “M’ready.” 

“OK, put New Romantics on,” she said. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “We need a soundtrack, Dad, just do it!” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, going into Spotify and finding the song. “Ready when you are.” 

“Presenting the eras of Sarah and Goldie,” she said with dramatic flair before throwing the bedroom door open and jumping into the living room in a pink shirt covered in sequins and her white skort. Her hair was in two what she liked to call “space buns” on the top of her head, pink plastic hair ties holding them in place. Her springy curls were covered in glitter and she had on bright pink, sparkling eyeshadow and gem stones on her cheeks as she beamed, her arms over her head as she showed off her outfit. “I’m in my Lover era because it’s the best one, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Joel tried to keep himself from laughing. “That’s a lot of glitter, kiddo.” 

“It’s a concert, Dad,” she rolled her eyes as you poked your head around the door to look into the living room and he caught a glimpse of your much darker makeup. 

“It’s just a spray,” you said. “It’s supposed to wash out pretty easy.” 

“No, don’t show yourself yet!” Sarah shoved you lightly back behind the door. “You have to do it all at once to get the full effect!” 

“Sorry!” You called and Joel heard the hint of a laugh on the edges of your voice. “You tell me when it’s OK to come out.” 

“Thank you,” Sarah said, turning back to Joel and striking a pose. “Lover is the best because it has the most pink AND it has Cruel Summer on it.” 

“Sure,” Joel nodded seriously even though he had no idea what she was talking about. “You look great, baby girl. Very pink.” 

She beamed. 

“And now, Aunt Goldie -” she stepped to the side of the doorway and threw her arms out with a flourish - “who is in her Reputation era!” 

Joel didn’t know what the fuck that meant, either. All he knew was that he had a hard time keeping his mouth shut as you stepped around the door, a sheepish look on your face as you turned in a slow circle to show off your entire outfit. You were in black jeans that hugged every curve of your legs, heeled black boots, a satiny shirt that was low cut enough that he could see a hint of the black lace bra below and a black leather jacket. Your eyes were dark and your lashes were long, your lips blazing red and all he could think about was how much he wanted to ruin that fucking lipstick. He was so busy staring at you like an idiot, he missed what Sarah was saying. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo, what was that?” He asked, not looking at Sarah. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. 

“She’s in her reputation era because it’s the most badass - sorry Dad - one,” she said. “And she’s definitely badass. Sorry.” 

“I tried to tell her that no, I’m definitely not,” you said. “But she wouldn’t listen.” 

“Nah, she’s right,” Joel said, hoping he didn’t look like too much of a fucking idiot as he stared at you. “You…” he tried to find some way to describe you that didn’t make him sound like a dumbass. “You look great.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Thanks,” you said. “And what are you wearing?” 

“Oh, right,” he said, getting up from the couch. “Sarah picked somethin’ for me too…” 

He ducked around you into the bedroom and resisted the urge to run his hand over your stomach to the curve of your waist and pull you against him. He changed his shoes into his cowboy boots and got his cowboy hat out from its place in his bag before emerging. 

“What era is this, baby girl?” He asked, his hands awkwardly shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“That’s the evermore era,” Sarah said knowingly. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “Cowboy Like Me. Duh.”

Joel saw you press your lips together as you tried not to laugh. 

“Duh, yes,” Joel said. 

“Oh! And…” She scampered to her bag and opened the side pocket of her duffle, pulling out fistfuls of plastic beads. “Friendship bracelets!” 

She put a few on herself before holding clusters of them out to each of you. 

“You’re supposed to trade them with other people at the show! I made a bunch!” 

“Thank you!” You said sliding the cluster of them up your arm and turning them in the light. “I didn’t know concerts required so much prep work…” 

“We ready to go?” Joel asked. “I know parking’s gonna be a nightmare…” 

“Yeah!” Sarah damn near bounded toward the door. “Let’s go!” 

The concert was packed, awash with bright colors and excited squeals as the three of you settled in, Sarah immediately striking up a conversation with a girl about her age in a purple dress, trading bracelets with her. 

“Oh, right,” you said, leaning around Joel to see what Sarah was doing. You started looking over the mass of beads on your wrist and selecting one, passing it over to him. “This one seems good.” 

Joel took it, most of the beads letters that said Call It What You Want. He made a mental note to listen to the song at some point. He smiled a little, putting it on the wrist that didn’t have any bracelets yet so he wouldn’t accidentally give it away. 

“Thanks,” he said, looking at his own wrist until he found the one that made the most sense to him and handed it over before he could think better of it. “Here, in trade.” 

You smiled and took it before laughing a little. 

“You Belong With Me, huh?” You asked. He shrugged and you traced your thumb over the letters before sliding it on your wrist. “Thank you.” 

“Dad!” Sarah grabbed his arm and held up hers. “Look! She gave me her Lover one!”

“That’s great, baby girl,” he smiled at the glittery pastel beads, Sarah’s eyes wide and bright. 

It was impossible to not love how happy Sarah was here. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile quite so huge or seen her eyes quite so bright. It was like she was getting everything she had ever dreamed as she chattered away to every girl around them as they waited for the show to start. He drank it in, trying to make sure he remembered clearly, sharply how it felt to see her so happy. After a while, he looked to you to find you watching Sarah, too, a look on your face that was almost as happy as hers and you looked so beautiful he almost wasn’t tempted to look at the plush swell of your lace clad cleavage below your satin shirt. 

Almost. 

“What?” You laughed a little, gaze meeting his just as the lights dimmed. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For wanting to make her happy.” 

You just smiled gently before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, Joel’s heart skipping a beat as everyone’s attention turned to the stage and cheered, the music starting. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the music during the concert, more interested in watching Sarah have fun and you indulging her, happily dancing along with her and clapping excitedly when she did. 

But there was one song in a slower section that he couldn’t help but notice. You’d been swaying along to the music and Joel had been appreciating the guitar when your head drifted over and rested on his shoulder. He froze for a moment, looking at you with the small smile on your red lips and your eyes all soft as you watched the stage and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you and he wanted it to be unlike every other time he kissed you, each of them full of driving want or couched in some pretense. Instead, he wanted to kiss you all soft and slow, gentle and earnest. He wanted to take his time and memorize the taste of you and the way your body felt when cradled against him just so. 

But he couldn’t do that so he tried to focus on the song but the lyrics cut him to the quick. 

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

The words were striking in their familiarity, like they’d been written just for him. It was a moment he’d had a long time ago, almost 20 years back now, a lightning bolt that made him stare straight up at his ceiling in the middle of the night, right at the spot over his bed that had some Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition model poster tacked into the popcorn plaster. The model didn’t hold a candle to you and your slow building smiles and the way you grabbed his bicep for support when you laughed. 

Because he loved you. 

He’d never loved anything outside of his family before but he loved you. The realization swallowed him up, swift and devastating, because he knew - even at 16 he knew - that it would never work. You were too smart, you burned too bright, you wouldn’t have your feet glued to this place the way his were. You’d move on after high school and go change the world and he’d be able to read your name in the paper and say that he knew you once. 

Except he’d always assumed that, eventually, he’d move on. That he’d love something else, find some slice of that all encompassing feeling in another woman. He was just 16 then, after all. Who the fuck married someone they met in high school these days? He’d move on. 

But he didn’t. He’d just poured all the love he had into his daughter until he was struck by you again and realized that no, it hadn’t faded. He still loved you in a way he’d never loved anything else and in a way he didn’t think he’d ever love anything else again and he still knew - even at 33 he knew - that it wasn’t going to work. And he couldn’t risk pressing it, not when life was this much better just because you were close. 

But what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to spend the rest of his life trying to pretend that he’d find someone else to feel this way about? Was he supposed to steep himself in this torturous proximity until he lost himself to it? Was he supposed to try to bear finding distance from you - when he couldn’t even last a few days not speaking to you - so he could manage it? 

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he would ever really know. 

“Joel?” You stepped back from him, your eyebrows knitted together. “You OK?” 

You lifted a hand and pressed the back of it to his cheek. 

“M’fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“You look pale,” you said, moving your hand to the other side of his face. “But you don’t feel warm…” 

“Just gettin’ too old for the concert life,” he smiled a little. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You took your hand back. He wasn’t sure if it was a kindness or a cruelty. 

“Better get used to it if you’re going to start playing again,” you said, facing back toward the stage. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart clenching a little. “I’d better.” 

You and Sarah got him to dance and he memorized the look on Sarah’s face as the show wound down, all happiness and joy at getting exactly what she wanted.

After a seemingly endless wait for an Eras Tour t-shirt and the traffic jam to leave the parking lot, the three of you made it back to the hotel, Sarah asleep in the back seat. You went to wake her but Joel stopped you. 

“I’ve got ‘er,” he said quietly, lifting her delicately from the back seat. She groggily put her arms around his neck and nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled a little. She might be getting big but at least he could still carry his baby girl to bed. 

The two of you tucked her in together before tiptoeing to the bedroom. 

“Thank God I talked Sarah out of glitter for me,” you said quietly as you took your makeup off, already in your pajamas in front of the bathroom mirror. Joel tried to resist the urge to trace the curve of your legs and ass with his eyes. “I’ve barely got the energy to take this off…” 

“Her hair’s gonna be a nightmare tomorrow,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, but she loved it,” you looked at him in the mirror. “Worth it.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Worth it.” 

When you got in bed, the two of you ditched the pretense of distance that you’d started with the night before. You lay close but not touching, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you under the blankets. 

“So,” you said, yawning. “How was your first concert with Sarah?” 

“Anything that makes that kid that happy is great in my book,” he smiled a little, his eyes tracing the dark outline of you silhouetted in the dim city light that filtered around the curtains. “Seriously… thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Thanks for letting me be a part of it,” Joel could hear your groggy smile on your voice. “And I had a few Christmases to make up for missing.” 

He laughed lightly. 

“I missed you, Joel,” you said, sounding so tired he wasn’t sure that you knew you said it. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Missed you too, Goldie. So much.” 

You hummed in response before your breaths shifted to the quiet, easy cadence of sleep and Joel drifted off, letting himself savor the closeness of you. 

That indulgence, he thought at first, was what sparked the dream. 

You were in a hotel room with him in his head, too, but it was different. It was just the two of you and it wasn’t because you had to be. No, you were there for each other. 

Joel took his time with you then. He undressed you slowly, his lips trailing over your neck and shoulder as he slid the straps of your bra down your arms. He kissed you the way he wanted to at the concert, holding you to him as his tongue dipped into your mouth and he could smell your shampoo and feel the silk of your skin below his fingers and his cock was painfully swollen. His kiss grew more desperate, desire shifting to necessity. He was drawn hot and tight inside his skin and wanting you was a distant memory now because he was far beyond that. He needed you. 

He rutted against the soft warmth beside him, seeking some kind of relief, your body relaxed and pliant against him, your breath hot on his skin and it was the little whimper you made that woke him up. 

It was still early, the light coming in from around the edges of the curtains not bright enough for it to be the light of day yet but that didn’t seem to matter, he could see things just fine. You were close and tight against him, his aching cock pressed to your stomach, the root of him against your clit, your pussy so hot he could feel it through your pajamas and his own. Your leg was hitched over his hip and you rocked your hips against his length and your head was tucked below his. He could smell your shampoo and feel the heat of your breath on his neck. He froze against you and you gave a soft, strangled moan. 

“Goldie,” he whispered, only then realizing that he was panting for breath. “Think… I think you’re dreamin’, should wake up…” 

You didn’t respond. You just moaned, high pitched and needy, and worked your core against his length and Joel worried that he was going to come then and there. 

“Goldie,” he said again. HIs voice sounded strangled, like he was choking on the words. “Gotta wake up baby, can’t…” 

Your leg tightened on him and your hand found its way to the back of his neck, playing in his curls as you ground yourself against his cock and he thought he might burst if he didn’t find some kind of relief soon and… was it really wrong if you started it? If you were practically fucking him in your sleep, was it so bad to give in to what you wanted? 

His resolve weakened, falling into nothing in a matter of seconds. His hands spread over you, one between your shoulder blades, the other cupping the lush globe of your ass and he pressed closer to you, grinding against your hot slit that you kept pressing against him like you wanted him the way he wanted you. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass and over your thigh, the feeling of your skin below his fingers almost too much when taken with everything else you were offering and fuck he wanted to feel you come. He wanted to bury himself deep inside of you and feel you get lost in your pleasure while wrapped around him. He resisted the urge to at least slip a finger into those wet panties - he knew they’d be wet, knew you’d be fucking dripping - because that, for some reason, was a bridge too far. You hadn’t started that. You had started this. 

“Goldie,” he managed again, forgetting all pretense and just fucking his cock against you now. “Need you to wake up…” 

You buried your face in his neck and moaned, the motion of your hips picking up for a moment before you pulled your face back from him, eyes open wide and glassy with want and shock. He froze, his hands still on you and his cock still pressed against your core. 

“Joel,” you breathed, eyes searching his. “What are we…” 

“Want me to stop touchin’ you?” He asked, praying you wouldn’t say yes. 

“No,” you whispered. “I… I want…I need… but we… we can’t…” 

His heart cracked open at that but he shoved it aside. He could deal with the pain of that later. 

“Don’t gotta be anymore than this,” he said quietly. “It’s OK baby, promise. It doesn’t need to mean anything, it’s OK…” 

You just nodded quickly and buried your face in his neck again, clutching him close so every line of you was tight to his body, your hips working in earnest against his cock. He moaned at the feel of it, needing to press his mouth into the crown of your head to muffle the sound. He rutted himself against you, his leaking cock making such a mess of his goddamn underwear that it almost felt like he was inside you, the slick of his precome and the heat of your pussy intoxicating. 

The two of you rocked against each other like teenagers in heat, terrified of what that next step would mean but too desperate to stop yourselves now. Joel was getting dangerously close to spilling into his pants and was trying to stave off his orgasm, needing to come with you, when you spoke - voice small and hot and needy - from your place tucked against his skin. 

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted so quietly, like your pleasure was a secret. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come, I…” 

“It’s OK,” he said, holding you a little closer, a little tighter, working his cock against you a little harder. “Just come, it’s OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK, just come for me baby, just come.” 

You rutted yourself against him once, twice more before your body seized up and he could feel the throbbing of your pussy against his cock even through the layers of clothing. He closed his eyes and thrust up, letting himself imagine that he was deep inside you and coming there, his orgasm hitting him so hard it made his head spin. 

Your body went limp in his hold after as the two of you panted for breath, limbs tangled around each other. He just held you, tight enough to feel close but loose enough that you could pull away when you needed, until you leaned back from him. Your eyes were still wide but more in shock, now, than want. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “What did we do?” 

He could hear the panic edging into your voice. 

“What did we just do?” Your breaths were coming in fearful little pants now and he ignored the pain in his chest as he brushed your hair back soothingly. 

“S’OK,” he said softly. “It… it doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s OK. Just… shit happened, it wasn’t anything crazy, it’s OK. It don’t have to be anything it’s not, it’s OK.” 

There was a look in your eyes he couldn’t quite place but then you nodded. 

“You OK?” Joel asked after a moment. 

You held his gaze for a second before you nodded once. 

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s OK.” 

His alarm went off and he scrambled to turn it off, praying that, this time, it really would be OK. 

A/N: I'm going to keep building that tension because I love to torture them apparently.

Don't ask me what my problem is. If I knew, I'd tell you.

Thank you so much for reading about these two idiots! I love them so much. Even if they're idiots.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #halcyon

[gravehags]

let the devil in

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: OH THEY FUCKIN, PinV, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, improper timing of satanic prayer, lots of ooey gooey feelings, secondo being a real one, stelline the rat makes a brief return, sister imperator being unsettling as shit

Words: 6,803

Summary: You have just about had enough of dancing around one another. It's now or never.

a/n: bro writing this had me shaking THIS IS IT, THE BIG ONE god i hope it lives up to my hype

The remainder of your time off passes without incident - for better and for worse. 

Copia has been lovely - a perfect gentleman - but as much as you appreciate his sweet words and his kind heart, you’re left wondering why he hasn’t made any…advances towards you. When your kisses turn heated he shies away and you don’t pursue the issue, wondering if you’re just coming on too strong. Wondering if he regrets the evening you spent together on New Years Eve. You try not to let it get to you but every night you lie awake, staring up at the ceiling worried that he has regrets. Part of you - the part that sees the sincerity in his eyes when he dotes on you, the logical part - tells you that he’s just being cautious. The other part of you…well. That little parasite is constantly in your ear telling you he’s just being kind - too kind to rip the bandaid off and break it off with you. Back and forth these two sides play tug of war and you’re the one left to suffer in silence. And it’s not just your mind that suffers but your body. Your body aches for him, your fingers frantically pressing against your clit in a poor imitation of the curve of his cock. You crave his touch and are filled with sadness as you watch the bruises his fingers left on your thighs yellow and fade. You want to bring your concerns up to him but the fear that the awful little parasite in you has been right all along keeps your mouth shut. So you let him court you - bring you more flowers (dark red peonies this time, you dried the roses he gave you the moment they began to wilt and now the bundle hangs from your bedroom mirror), hold your hand on your daily walks, eat by your side - and hope that through sheer force of will he seeks out your embrace once more. You’re almost relieved when you start back at work again, able to keep your hands and mind busy with something other than your unsettling thoughts and anxiety-fraught fledgling relationship.

–

Copia feels as if he’s going mad.

Not from you, never from you but…his desire for you. The way his body and his mind relive the feel of your cunt pressed up against him, the heat and wet pushing against his clothed cock. He clenches his fist and shifts in his office chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He’s trying his best - his very best - to be good and sweet and docile for you. To treat you like he wants to, like he knows you deserve. But his want for you is all-consuming, dogging him day and night, in your presence and without it. He wants your body - wants to corrupt your body - true, but more than that he wants…you. Hungers for your soul, your love. Wants to crawl inside your veins and make a home in your heart. He’s told you he loves you, true, but would the extent of it scare you off? He’s torn by wanting to confess the darkest parts of his passion to you and keeping you at a safe distance, like a porcelain doll on a shelf. New Year's Eve left him reeling, dizzy even as he slept beside you that night and you curled into him. You’re so good to him - far better than he deserves - and he can feel the lust radiating off of you whenever your kisses become heated. The devil whispers for him to let go, let you untether that beast inside him that he tries so hard to muzzle. The chain that holds him back weakens day by day, every moment you give him that look from across the couch or the dinner table he’s closer to ruin.

Which leads him to today. 

You’ve popped by his office on your lunch break, standing by the windows and holding his hands in yours. 

“Come over to my place tonight?”

He’s about to answer when there’s a knock on the door and it swings open. When he sees Secondo standing there he drops your hands as if burned and takes a step away from you.

“Mi scusi, I’ve interrupted something,” Secondo turns to leave but Copia calls out.

“No, no. Eh, nothing interrupted. She was just leaving - weren’t you, signorina?”

He immediately regrets his choice of words when he sees you jolt as if slapped at the cold tone of his voice and the return of your old title. Secondo’s sharp gaze flicks back and forth between you and him but he remains silent.

“Y-yeah. Okay. Sorry, Secondo. Goodbye, Cardinal.”

Ouch. He deserves that. As does he deserve the way you leave and shut the door behind you without a second glance back to him. Anxiety sinks heavy in his stomach as he lowers himself to slump on the end of his desk. He nearly forgets his fratello is there when the imposing papa clears his throat.

“Che cazzo, stronzo?” he barks, making Copia wince and fold in on himself. He’s not sure if it’s wiser to play dumb or fess up to his feelings but judging by the steely look in Secondo’s eye, he’ll take nothing less but the truth.

“It’s…a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” Secondo snarls, stalking over to him and jabbing him in the chest with a long finger. “You’re being chicken shit, aren’t you?”

Leave it to Secondo to suss out the reality of the situation in a heartbeat. Copia shifts himself out of poking distance and rounds the desk to collapse in his chair.

“I…eh…sì.”

Secondo crosses his arms and stares down at him imperiously.

Copia reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose, unsure of how much detail to give him. Judging from the look on Secondo’s face, he wants to hear all of it.

“So we…got together. The night of the Yule gathering. I walked her back to her rooms and we… eh…made out along the way. We got to her place and she invited me in and I…I wanted to treat her as she deserves, sì? Flowers, dates, chocolates, the whole shebang. So I told her that. Then she–”

His voice cracks and he clears his throat, the mere memory of the incident enough to rile him up.

“She tells me she’s a virgin. A virgin, Secondo. Sathanas, I nearly grabbed her and had her in the damn hallway.”

Secondo makes a noise, his eyebrows rocketing up. He’s clearly not unmoved by this information either.

“So after that I…I try my best - my fucking best - to keep my composure. And maledetto inferno she did not make it easy, the little minx. And then I asked her out on a date. Our first. We went to Lucia’s on New Year’s Eve - came back, opened a bottle of champagne and well. Things escalated.”

“Did you…?”

“No,” Copia says hastily, “I mean…we didn’t do nothing but she remains ah…intact. Since then I-I don’t know what to do. The way she looks at me, the way she kisses me, touches me…”

“Fratello,” Secondo says, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle, “forgive me but I’m not seeing the problem with a beautiful, young virgin desiring you.”

“No, no, no, that’s not it,” Copia says, “it’s not what she wants that scares me…it’s what I want. Secondo, I love her more than anything, desire her more than anything but…I’m afraid if she sees the extent of my passion, my obsession with her I’ll…I’ll drive her away. Like everyone else, sì? So I restrain myself at every turn.”

Secondo nods, quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“Copia, have you considered telling her any of this? That perhaps maybe sharing your fears with her - someone who loves you very deeply in return - will help alleviate your angst? Not to mention you’re probably driving the poor girl mad with lust, vecchio cane.”

Copia snorts and Secondo smiles.

“You two were so blind for so long, unwilling to see the feelings you had for one another when to everyone else it was obvious. She was made for you, and you for her. I’ve seen you chase after a few people over the years, fratello, and you looked at none of them the way you look at her. So tell her. Show her, for fuck’s sake. You know full well how many in this abbey would kill to be in your position, huh? Terzo, for one, which is why this stays between us, sì? You need to make your move before he catches wind of her…condition.”

Copia nods vigorously, heaving a deep sigh and tipping his head against the back of his chair.

“Grazie, Secondo. For listening, as you always have.”

Secondo nods solemnly before pushing himself off the wall and making to leave.

“W-why did you come in originally?” Copia asks.

Secondo shrugs and winks his white eye.

“Brotherly intuition. Ciao, Copia.”

With a little wave the papa is gone and Copia sighs.

He’d come see you tonight. It was now or never.

–

You make sure to stay out of Copia’s way the remainder of the day, more confused than angry. When he’s with you he’s hot and cold - professing his love but ultimately shying away from your touch - and when you’re around others, well. With Terzo he’s possessive, with Secondo he’s jumpy. What is going on in that head of his? Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ve already made your mind up to go to him tonight and sort things out. He’s got confession duty until eight which gives you plenty of time to…prepare. A shiver runs through your body at the implication that if you play your cards right, tonight could be the night. Perhaps…you look at the small bundle of keys on the lanyard around your neck, sorting through them to find a specific one. He gave you the key to his rooms last week. Perhaps he would be more ah…pliant…to your desires were you to simply be…waiting for him. You giggle, actually giggle aloud, in your empty office. He’s not going to know what hit him.

You’re distracted the rest of the day, head filled with plans and scenarios, and you move through your tasks mechanically. When Sister Imperator drops by to give you a heads up about another painting she bought at auction she gives you a curious look. She’s been kind of weird around you since after the break - looking at you shiftily during meetings - and you’d be unsettled by it were your head not already filled with other things. When she turns to leave your office, she casually tosses “why don’t you take the rest of the day, hmm?” over her shoulder. You sputter, baffled as to how she seemed to know, and she turns around to give you a tight smirk before leaving with her red stilettos tapping on the marble. You’re holding your breath watching her retreat down the hall and you look at your watch.

3:21 PM

You’ve got hours but there’s a lot you have to cram in before then. First to head to the dining hall and wolf down a meal, then to Primo for a restock of your…meds, then to your quarters to shower and figure out what you’re going to wear. 

Better get going.

By the time you finish your tasks and return to your quarters, it’s 5:36 PM. You were waylaid by a group of siblings after you left Primo’s greenhouse who politely asked you to help them take pictures for the Ministry’s social media account. Dropping your keys and phone on the side table, you strip and leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom. Your shower is swift but you still make sure to use your best smelling products. You go through your skincare routine and step out to look at the clock next to your bed.

6:17 PM

Shit. You feel like you're pushing it and you’re glad you ultimately decided not to wash your hair tonight. Padding out into your bedroom, you open your drawers and rifle through them. You wanted something that gave the impression you were…his for the taking. Something soft and well…virginal. When you pull a knee length cream colored silk nightgown out of your pajama drawer you make a loud noise of appreciation. A little wrinkled, maybe, but you doubt he would care. Tossing your towel on your bed you pull the slip over your head, shivering at the touch of the cool material. Your eyes travel to the top of your dresser and you spot your perfume - the one you know he loves - and give yourself a few spritzes before touching his gold grucifix on your collarbone. That should do it. But now you have to get from your quarters to his and somehow you think doing so in a thin nightgown isn’t the wisest decision so you grab your robe and wrap it snugly around you. Stepping into your slippers you walk out of your room and grab your phone and key, taking a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

The journey up the two floors to Copia’s quarters passes without incident, unless you count the siblings who saw your attire and gave you funny looks. Your hands are shaking - actually shaking - as you reach his door and unlock it, stepping inside. It’s dark.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for the switch. When you manage to locate it and flip it on, the room is bathed in a soft yellow glow. His quarters are nice - not that yours are a dump, by any means - but the level of decorative detail has you inspecting every corner of his living space. Looking around you remove your robe and set it on a chair by the door. When you hear a few squeaks you shuffle over to the large rat cage in the corner, cooing at the little faces peering up at you. Stelline stands on her hind legs, nose snuffling in your direction.

“Hello, little loves,” you murmur, “I’ve got to be nosy for a second so you stay put, okay?”

When Stelline lets out a particularly loud squeak it makes you laugh so loud you clap your hand to your mouth. Before any more objections can be made you head to the other side of the room, past the wall of leaded glass windows, and through a doorway on the left. A small kitchen. Cute. Which means the other doorway leads…your heart thuds as you approach the darkened alcove and turn on yet another light switch. 

Copia’s bedroom.

It feels forbidden to be in this space and you step in cautiously, expecting at any moment to get busted for breaking and entering. It’s a decent size room - bigger than yours - with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. There’s an empty fireplace on the left and a large dresser, as well as a high backed chair. There’s a doorway which undoubtedly leads to his bathroom and…there it is. A large four-poster bed with dark red hangings and matching covers. You swallow thickly, stepping over to it. This could be it, you think, running your hands over the duvet. This could be the place where y—wait, what’s that?

There’s a scrap of black peeking out from under his pillow and curious, you reach for it. When you pull the item out, your jaw drops.

Those. Those are yours. Your…

“That little pervert!” you crow, veins flooded with warmth at the thought of what he did with your underwear. Your dirty underwear. Filthy man…filthy delicious man. Well who are you to deprive him of his simple pleasures, you think as you stuff the garment back under the pillow. Should everything go right tonight you’ll tease him about it…afterwards. Shaking your head you look down at your phone.

7:21 PM

Still got about forty minutes to kill, assuming confession doesn’t go over. Suddenly you’re kicking yourself for rushing all day and walk over to the chair to plop down. Hopefully a little time on your phone will pass the minutes.

You’re on your…how many games of solitaire was this?...when you hear the distinct sound of a key in a lock. You can feel the blood drain from your face as you set your phone aside and grip the arms of the chair. When he enters and shuts the door behind him, making his weird little noises, you can’t help but smile. 

“Buonasera, i miei bambini!”

You can hear him scoot over to his rats, sighing deeply. He talks to them for a few moments before his footfalls begin to approach where you are. He’s got his biretta in hand as he spots you and stands frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.

“Hey,” you say, slowly rising out of the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak, too distracted by your outfit.

“Cara…” he breathes, setting his biretta down on his dresser, “I-I was going to come to you tonight.”

“Hmm, well,” you shrug, “beat you to it.”

There’s a ringing silence between the two of you, your heart thundering against your ribs. You take a step towards him.

“Copia, you don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to…have to hide from me. I love you. You know that.”

“Sì,” he whispers, “but do you know how much I love you? How I would do anything for you - to you - if you let me? Dolcezza I–”

“So what if I let you?” you ask, taking another step towards him. “What if I want you to? What if I’ve always wanted you to? What if you’re the only one I’ve ever–” you take two more steps towards him until you’re a breath apart, “--wanted to?”

He exhales shakily, breath stirring the hairs around your face.

“I’m giving you permission, Copia,” you breathe, “I want you to take, and take, and take from me until I have nothing left to give. I’m yours, my love. I’m–”

You don’t finish your declaration - don’t get a chance. Copia lunges at you like an animal, wrapping his arms around you drawing you snug against his chest with his lips pressed against yours. He’s never kissed you like this before - like a starving man - lips and teeth and tongue mingling with yours and peppered with groans and growls. He’s holding you so tight he squeezes the breath from your lungs as he nips at your throat, ravenous.

“Mine,” he growls, “amata mia. I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.”

When he licks along your carotid you gasp, and gently push at him.

“Let me undress you,” you breathe as you pant, “please Copia I want to see you.”

Copia pauses and pulls away to rest his forehead against yours before nodding. When he takes a step away from you, you mourn the warmth of his body.

“Go on, amore mio,” he murmurs.

“I-I don’t know where to start,” you confess with a smile. He offers his hands out to you.

“Here.”

This act alone is far more intimate than anything the two of you have done before. You know how he is about his hands and when you reach for them your own shake. Your fingers slide up the palm and wrist, taking the zipper and pulling. Gently, you ease each finger out of its sheath and pull the leather away. His hand is…beautiful. Large, freckled - like the rest of him - with a dusting of fine brown hair and–

“What happened?” you ask quietly, index finger tentatively brushing against the scar tissue in the center. “Copia is that–”

“Sì,” he answers simply and you reach for his other hand to repeat the process. You want to know, want to ask why but stay silent and save your curiosity for another time. Once the other one is bare you take them both in your hands and look at him.

“Beautiful,” you say softly, keeping your eyes on his as you raise each palm to your lips and place a firm, lingering kiss at the center. Some of the raw hunger leaves his eyes - replaced with utter adoration.

“What’s next?”

“This,” he points to his grucifix. It takes you a minute of peering at his pellegrina before you see where the bejeweled accessory is hooked. Delicately you detach it and set it on the dresser.

“Next?”

“My fascia,” Copia whispers, gesturing to his belt. When you loosen it from his waist, the long red material sliding through your hands, he watches you intently. You fold the garment up neatly and set it aside.

“Cassock?” you ask.

He nods, guiding your fingers to his neck. Each button feels like an eternity and by the time you reach his waist he can sense your quiet frustration.

“We can cheat with this one,” he murmurs, grabbing the sides and inching them up his body before pulling the garment over his head. When the red wool falls in a pile on the floor, you regard it fondly.

“I don’t know if I can wait any longer, amore,” he says, standing before you in his clerical shirt, suspenders, and trousers.

“One last thing, please,” you say before darting away and into the bathroom. You rummage around in the linen closet for a moment before pulling out a rag and turning on the sink. When you return to him with the soaked cloth he looks perplexed until you raise it to his face.

“If I’m going to see you naked,” you say, gently wiping away the paint on his right eye, “I want all of you naked.”

He chuckles, hands behind his back as you remove every bit of the Cardinal you can find. When you finish, he takes the rag from you and tosses it to the floor.

“On the bed, amata,” there’s a darkness, a self-assuredness in his tone that would feel almost foreign to you if you hadn’t heard it first on New Year’s Eve. It makes a shiver run down your spine as you step over to his bed. He follows, toeing off his shoes and reaching down to remove his socks, mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk as you clamber onto the red duvet. He pauses at the foot of the bed and slides his suspenders off his shoulders so they hang by his sides before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his clerical shirt to expose a pale sternum covered in more fine brown hair. You blink up at him before taking a deep breath, sitting up on your knees, and pulling the nightgown over your head. The garment falls to the rug in a whisper and there you are. Bare. Your heart is in your throat as you lean backwards against the pillows, presenting yourself to him.

Copia doesn’t look hungry anymore. 

He looks feral.

When he presses his knee on the bed and slowly begins to crawl towards you, your breathing comes in pants. He urges your legs apart, spreading you open for him and eyeing the thatch of curls at the juncture of your thighs before situating himself between your knees.

“Dolcezza,” he growls, bare hands ghosting over your hips without actually touching you, “will you join me in prayer?” 

Your mouth falls open.

“N-now?” His eyes fall to the heaving of your breasts as you continue to take ragged breaths. The drag of his gaze along every dip and swell of your body makes your face heat up.

“Sì, amore mio. For when else am I to give thanks to Sathanas for this most blessed gift? What better place than right–” he hands touch your knees, making you jump, “--here?” His hands slide up your thighs as he shuffles forward to loom over you, breath dancing with yours. Mismatched eyes bore into yours, the corner of his lips curled slightly in a wicked smile.

You nod.

“Unholy Father,” he begins before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss is unhurried, decadent even, and when his tongue slides hotly along yours you whimper into his mouth. The chuckle that reverberates into you has your body arching into his, eager for his touch. You think he’s about to do just that when he pulls away, a lewd string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

“Today I give thanks for this–” he inhales deep through his nose “--glorious favor you have bestowed upon me, a most faithful son.”

He lowers himself towards you once more, to press open-mouthed kisses along your throat. With some hesitancy, you bring your hand up to his head and drag your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. His tongue traces a path across your clavicle - briefly pausing to kiss the gold grucifix that rests there - and continues down your sternum. 

“For what greater honor–” he pauses to suck at the swell of your breast, “--can you provide than an eager–” his lips drag torturously close to where you need him, “--willing–” his tongue darts out to graze the taut bud, “sweet–” he hovers over your nipple, eyes trained up on yours, and his hot breath makes you shiver, “--virgin.” When he finally, finally lowers his lips to slip the hardened bud into his mouth you let out a keening moan. He sucks hungrily, teeth teasing at it and tongue soothing the catch of bone on flesh. 

“Copia, fuck,” you breathe, fingers buried in his hair to cradle him against you, “mmm just like that. Just like that, love.”

He rewards the endearment by bringing his hand up to your other breast and cupping the soft flesh in his large palm. When his thumb brushes over your nipple your hips buck again, and you can feel him smile against your skin. He wetly pulls off of you and you let out an undignified whimper at the loss.

“I have her heart,” he says, and you’re wildly confused for a moment before it dawns on you that he’s not done praying. The realization makes your head fall back against his pillows, your tongue sliding out to wet your lips. He’s abandoned your breasts now and has slid further down, hands on your waist. 

“I have her mind,” he places a soft kiss to the curve of your belly once - and again - before sliding down even further.

“Her soul–” he kisses the underside of your stomach once more, his mustache tickling you, “--I’m working on—“ 

When he glances up at you with a grin you smile back, deliriously enchanted, “--and her body…” 

His breath stirs the curls between your legs and your heart pounds. “...Is now mine.” The low, almost sinister tone of his voice makes you gasp, knowing full well what comes next. 

“Nema.”

“N-nema.”

He bows his head in reverence and taking his thumbs, spreads you open and drags his tongue through your slick folds. The sensation sends a shockwave through you, your back arching off the mattress as you squirm.

“Copia!”

His hands fly to your hips, gripping and kneading the flesh as he continues to work his tongue against you. He’s content to lap at your entrance for a couple of minutes before dragging the muscle upwards slightly and–oh. When he curves the flat of his tongue along your swollen clit he really has to hold you down. Your fingers cling to the silvered brown strands on his head, holding him against you and through your lowered lids you can see his hips minutely grinding against the mattress. You’re laughing, high and breathy, as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you, better than your fingers or any vibrator. When he moans into your cunt, fingers digging into your flesh you gasp.

“Fuck, my love, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, Copia please.”

He grins against you, mouth returning to gather the slick at your entrance and the tip of his long, large nose grinding against your clit. The sensation is overwhelming as your body thrashes and, you think deliriously, he’s definitely going to leave marks with how firmly he’s holding you. When he pulls away from you - no doubt to catch his breath - he leans up on his elbows a little and gives you a wolfish grin. 

“Dolcezza, what a sacrifice you make. Ave Sathanas.”

You laugh, grinning down at him as he returns to his task. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, again and again, you know it’s over. You’re babbling nonsense, sweet little words of praise at your lover, as you feel that familiar wave begin to crest inside you.

“Copia, oh fuck Copia I’m so close honey.”

He hums around you, hips continuing to rut into the duvet as he devours you. When you no longer have the ability to form words, you moan, higher and higher as you grip his hair and the covers. He pulls away slightly, making you cry out in desperation but when he returns he gently nudges the tip of his finger inside you. It’s not enough to make any real impact but the knowledge that he’s simply toying with you as you thrash below him has you letting out breathy, hysterical laughter.

“So good for your Cardinal,” he pants, and when you meet his gaze you can feel yourself clenching around his finger. “So tight for me and I haven’t even filled you yet. Tell me - did you use your own fingers while thinking of me?”

“Copia pl–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chastises, licking his lips. “I won’t give you what you want until you answer me, amore mio.”

You’ve only seen glimpses of this side of him before - hints at what lurked below the surface but now that you’re being fully exposed to this Copia - self-assured and smug in his power - your hunger for him increases tenfold.

“Yes, I-I did.”

“How many?”

He asks the question with all the casualness of asking for the price of apples at the farmer’s market.

“D-depends. Sometimes two. Sometimes thre–ah!”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s easing a second finger into you, stretching you open.

“My fingers are much bigger than yours, amore,” he says as he begins to slide himself in knuckle deep. “We’ll start with two today to eh, warm you up, sì? Would you like that?”

He’s right - his fingers are a lot bigger than yours and when he pauses to gently crook them inside you your jaw falls open in a desperate moan.

“Y-yes. Yes! Fuck, Copia just like that. Please, my love, please.”

“You beg so prettily for me, dolcezza,” he growls, lowering his face to your cunt once more, “keep going.”

The sounds he draws out of you as he licks and sucks and fucks his fingers into you are unlike any you’ve made before. Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you wonder if people passing by in the hallway can hear you but that only makes your hips buck into his touch even harder. You do as he asks and begs, promising him anything, anything as long as he doesn’t stop, please don’t stop. When you finally come apart, your muscles burn and you scream his name - fuck now you know someone heard that - as he presses against that sweet spot inside you. You don’t even notice him removing his mouth and pulling back so he can watch your face contort as you pant and sweat against his pillows. Your vision has gone blurry as you stare at the canopy above you, only somewhat aware of him sliding his fingers out of you and pulling back. You look up at him, sitting on his haunches looking both smug and full of affection, as he licks at the mess on his hand.

“C’mere,” you say, crooking a finger at him. He obliges with a smile, and when his face approaches yours you grab him by the back of the head and pull him in for a slow, wet kiss. 

“Mm–like the taste of yourself, ragazza mia? Filthy thing.”

You can feel his cock nudging you through his pants and you grind upwards against him. He growls into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t finish me before I get started, amata,” he purrs, leaning down to run his tongue along your jaw.

You laugh.

“That wasn’t you getting started?” you marvel, and he pulls back to give you a lewd wink. “Take these off, my love. I want to see all of you.”

He nods, sliding backwards off the bed to stand. You watch him intently as he finishes unbuttoning and untucking his clerical shirt before unfastening his pants and sliding them and his underwear down to step out of them. He’s…gorgeous. You always knew he was but seeing him like this - bare and freckled, the brown hair on his body abundant - you sigh. Something dreamy and romantic sits on your tongue until your eyes travel to the juncture of his thighs and your mouth runs dry. He crawls on his hands and knees towards you, settling in between your legs and stroking his thick, reddened cock.

“You, eh. You like it?”

You nod dumbly, unable to form anything coherent. His body is clearer now in this light - he’s got a scar on the right side of his abdomen and on his left pectoral you see–

“A tattoo?!” you splutter loudly. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face drops as he lets go of his cock and it bobs in front of him.

“Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?”

The ridiculousness of the whole situation hits you at once - the two of you nude, you being a virgin, him with his tattoo, both of you in this fucking Satanic abbey - and you tilt your head back and laugh. He growls and throws himself forward, caging you in underneath him.

“I show you my cock and you laugh?” he chastises you, mustache twitching as he fights back a smile. “Have some dignity, piccola vergine mia.”

Your laughter dies and you take in the flushed face of the man above you, strands of hair falling into his eyes. 

“I love you.”

His eyes get misty, as do yours, as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Amata mia, dolcezza mia, vita mia, tutto mio. Ti amo. Per sempre.”

He leans down and places a sweet, soft kiss on your cheek before nuzzling into it.

“Are you ready?”

You cup his jaw and run your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Have your wicked way with me, Cardinale,” you smile, your hips shifting up against his. The drag of his wet cock against the heat of you makes him groan.

“Diavoletta mia,” he growls, leaning back and taking himself in hand. You spread your legs wider, still soaked from your earlier activities, and present yourself to him. When his cockhead prods at your entrance, you jump and his eyes fly to yours for confirmation. You nod and gently, slowly, he pushes himself in. There’s no pain, only pressure, as he slides in, his breathing ragged in an effort to maintain control. When he bottoms out, your bodies flush to one another, you pant up at him.

“Y-you okay?” he stammers, clearly trying his hardest to restrain himself. You watch a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“Copia,” your voice is calmer than it’s been all evening, “don’t hold back.”

You feel his arms wobble on either side of you at your words as he slides nearly all the way out of you and pushes back in. He repeats the action, each thrust gaining more force than the last. The feel of him stretching you is divine, hypnotic, and watching him slowly come apart above you even more so. He’s moaning desperately with each slide of his cock, his eyes frantically searching yours.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

When you experimentally clench around him he whines, his hands seeking yours to entwine your fingers. He fucks into you a little harder, little deeper with a shift of his hips, making you arch your back and press your breasts against him.

“S-so good,” he whimpers, “so tight, amore. So–ah–sweet for me, always.”

All you can do is moan in response as he jerks against you. You’re full - so deliciously full of him - and wildly you wonder how you went this long without him. This man that you adored so deeply - who adored you back - who always cared, always listened. You can feel tears prick the corners of your eyes and you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist as tight as you possibly can. His movements are limited now by your actions but you don’t care - all you care about is keeping the two of you joined as close as possible.

“Amore, amore, amore,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. Despite his thrusts no longer being quite as deep, they are no less forceful.

“Thank you,” you manage to eke out, “thank you. Vita mia. Mondo mio. You’re perfect.”

He chuffs out a noise between a sob and a pant, clearly moved by your use of language. The snap of his hips picks up and you can feel that pressure building inside of you once more. 

“Copia,” you whimper, “Copia I’m close, I’m so close, don’t stop. Please, my love.”

His fingers tighten in yours, palms slick with sweat and you feel yourself falling, falling. Your cunt spasms around him as his thrusts become wild, erratic and you feel wave upon wave of pleasure spreading from your core through your limbs and into your fingertips. It’s different from your usual orgasms - less violent, less frantic - but no less intense. You can feel the tears sliding down into your hair as you buck up against him, desperate to wring out every last moment of the feeling.

“Cara,” Copia’s voice is hoarse, “I’m–I’m going–”

“Let go. Show me how much you love me, Copia.”

Your command is all the permission he needs and lets out a low, broken moan of your name as his hips spasm into yours and you feel his seed pulse inside of you. Idly, you think about how glad you are that you visited Primo before this. You look up at the man on top of you and reach up to push his hair out of his eyes. His eyes are bright, white eye glowing, as he shakes and struggles to hold himself up. Gently, you ease him to the side, making sure to keep the two of you joined as he collapses next to you. You’re simply not ready to let go yet. The two of you tremble in each other’s arms, content to bathe in the heavy emotion. Your tears have dried and now a calm washes over you.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers raking through Copia’s sweaty hair. He’s watching you carefully - every dart of your eyes and twitch of your cheeks - as if he’s anticipating something.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “So was that, eh. Satisfactory?”

You snort and tug lightly at his hair.

“I think I can now say I’ve been thoroughly and successfully ravished, Cardinal. This must be quite a feather in your cap. You’ve made your Unholy Father proud.”

Now it’s his turn to snort.

“Just be thankful no one else found out about your, eh, former condition. You’d have had clergy and siblings and ghouls all lined up for you.”

“Oh,” you begin with a not-so-innocent tone, “so that’s why you romanced me, huh? Wanted first dibs?”

“Cara, no,” Copia says, deadly serious all of a sudden, “this isn’t–I would never–”

You laugh, dragging your fingers through his chest hair.

“My love, it’s been almost a year, I thought you’d be used to my stupid jokes now.”

“Ah!” he rolls his eyes and waves at you dismissively, making you laugh even harder.

You finally have to separate, his softened cock sliding out of you as you push backwards. When you try to swing your legs over the bed and stand a hand wraps around your bicep and hauls you back down to bounce on the mattress.

“And where do you think you’re going, signorina?”

“Well I was gonna go pee and then–”

Quick as a cat, he rolls onto you, grinning down at you.

“Bellezza mia,” he purrs, “I hope you didn’t make plans for the next few days. We have, eh, lots of time to make up for. And you,” he leans down and runs his tongue over your pulse point, feeling it thunder against your skin, “have so much to learn.”

When the two of you text Sister Imperator with suspiciously matching illnesses the next morning, she smiles to herself. 

All in Lucifer’s plan.

#curator reader series #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

[starsofang]

Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy.

i just want you to know that you’re not defined by your weight, and you will absolutely find somebody who will love you no matter your appearance <3 i’m a big girl dating a fit man and he treats me wonderfully, despite many people bullying me for my weight and thinking he’s silly for dating a big girl. you will 100% find somebody like that who will love you for you, and your family is wrong about that <3 i’m sending you all my love anon!!!

i hope this is to your liking!!

tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief angst with fluffy smut :3

Johnny was the love of your life. There wasn’t a doubt about it in your mind that he was the one you’d spend the rest of your days with, growing old together, showered in each other’s unconditional love.

Lately, though, you were wondering if you were the love of his.

The reflection in the mirror every time you snuck a glance whispered nasty things to you. Hurtful and cruel, dousing you in doubtful insecurity, all geared towards the way you looked. It pointed out all of your soft rolls, the pudge of your stomach, the cellulite on your thighs.

Every time you came face to face with your reflection, it was a constant thought that plagued your mind of why Johnny wanted to be with somebody like you. Why he chose you.

Blinded by your own criticism, it began to take a toll on your relationship.

It started off small, like gently pushing him away with a forced laugh every time he’d come up behind you and rest his hands on your hips, kneading the flesh. Or, when he’d lay in bed at night with you, arm slung over your stomach, seeking out your touch in order to fall asleep, you’d roll to face away from him, fearful of Johnny feeling the softness of your body.

It was a bigger issue when sex became less frequent — not that Johnny minded if you weren’t in the mood. He respected you. But Johnny knew you far more than you thought he did, and he could see the tell-tale signs of you distancing yourself.

He noticed the way you shied away from him, brushing his hands off like you were scorched from his touch. Hiding away in oversized clothing, concealing any sliver of your body.

At first, Johnny didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to approach it, and he didn’t want to assume anything was wrong. Maybe you were having an off time!

It wasn’t until tonight, where he had you gracefully laid out in your bed, that he knew something was truly wrong.

The rough pads of his fingers slowly slid down to the hem of your shirt while his lips remained occupied against yours, carefully slipping the fabric up across your stomach. Almost instantly, your body tensed up, your own hands grasping hold of the end of your shirt to roughly tug it down, successfully covering yourself back up.

Johnny paused, pulling away from your kiss to peer down at you with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Bonnie,” he frowned. “What’s all this about?”

You busied your lip between your teeth, turning your head away in order to avoid seeing the ache in his eyes. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to confirm your insecurities by telling you he saw what you saw in the mirror.

“Talk t’me,” he encouraged, gently guiding your head to look at him, thumb stroking along your cheek.

“I just—“ You sucked in a breath, before everything came spilling out at once. “I don’t want you to see me. I know I’m chubby, I know I’m not small. I don’t understand what you see in me.”

“Bonnie—“

“I don’t see why you love me when I look like this,” you finished, cutting him off. By the time you finished rambling, you had to catch your breath. A frown settled on your lips, and the sight of it caused Johnny to ache.

“How could I not?” Johnny breathed, voice so tender yet serious. He stared down at you, eyes flickering over your face, wanting so badly to smooth away the downward pull on your lips and furrow in your own eyebrows.

You said nothing, darting your eyes away to look at the ceiling instead of him.

“I love everythin’ about ye,” he continued, leaning down to press a subtle kiss to your cheek, moving down to your jaw, then your neck. “And I certainly love yer body. Do I have t’show ye myself?”

You finally glanced back to meet his gaze. He had a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes, one only reserved for you.

“C’mon,” he urged, pulling himself off of you and guiding you to sit up.

Once the two of you were standing, he quietly asked for permission to undress you. He noticed your hesitance so he waited patiently for you to answer, but once you told him yes, he happily obliged.

Johnny worked slowly to peel off every layer of your clothing until they were a heap on the floor at your feet. He took in the sight of you bare, smiling bashfully at the vision, burning it into memory.

He made quick work to undress himself to match your nudity, before sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging you to sit on his lap with your back pressed to his chest. His skin was warm against yours, but his hands were like a burning fire when he slipped them down your sides and to your thighs.

“I want ye t’look in the mirror, bonnie,” he said, nodding his head to the floor length mirror that sat perched up against the wall. When you looked into it, you had a perfect view of yourself in his lap. “How could I not love that?”

You squirmed awkwardly, unable to see what he was seeing. That little voice in the back of your mind still had control, and Johnny could tell. He was determined to rid yourself of it once and for all.

Despite wanting to resist, you continued looking in the mirror, taking in the sight of you on his lap, your thighs resting snugly over his own. Your eyes followed the way his hand slid from your thigh, going up and up until it reached between, lightly dragging through your cunt. His fingers shined almost instantly from your slick, and he took pleasure in coating himself in it further.

A shaky breath left your lips, warmth of arousal pooling in your abdomen. You’d never been able to see him touch you before, but now you have a full view of it. His fingers began circling your clit, while his free arm wrapped around your stomach, keeping you pressed up against him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured next to your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with you.

Johnny began indulging himself in the wetness of your cunt, unable to look away from the sight of his fingers sliding between your clit and your hole. He always thought you were stunning, but seeing you like this was heavenly.

Two fingers slipped into you, and your mouth parted, throat catching on to a surprised gasp. He grinned at you in the reflection, taking in the way you wiggled at the intrusion.

“Look at ye,” he hummed, fucking into you at a gentle pace with his fingers. “Bloody gorgeous.”

Your gasps turned into whines, eyes glossing over with a clouded need. You watched hazily as his fingers slipped in and out of you, and for a brief moment, you agreed with him. The sight of you falling apart from his fingers was new, almost thrilling.

As much as Johnny wanted to see you come from just his hand, he needed you to see yourself in the way he saw you. Slipping his fingers out earned a whine of protest from you, but he quickly shushed you by lifting you off of his lap so he could line his hardened cock up to your sopping hole, sinking you down on it.

“Fuckin’ look at ye, bonnie,” he sighed, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, indenting into your softness. He guided you up, slowly dragging his cock along your gummy walls, before pulling you back down, your ass flush against his lap. “Ye look fuckin’ sexy like this. My pretty girl.”

Seeing the way your cunt greedily clenched around his cock, glistening prettily in the reflection of the mirror, you felt surprisingly attractive. The voice in your head was quieting down, instead being replaced with Johnny’s loving praises as he took you.

Your stomach and thighs jiggled with every bounce he made from his hands on your hips, but the look in his eyes was undoubtedly burning with intense desire, clouded over with admiration. You could see how enthralled he was from the sight of you and how much it turned him on.

“This is all mine,” he groaned, squeezing your hips before bringing one hand around to grab hold of your stomach. He did it in such a loving way that you no longer felt insecure, you no longer had the urge to push him away so you could hide your body from him.

Johnny was proving just how beautiful he thought you were while simultaneously making you see it for yourself. He wanted you to feel good about yourself, and it was working.

When he saw the doubtful look in your eyes dissipate into a more confident one, he picked up the pace, eager to bounce you on his cock and make a mess of you. He was determined to make you feel so good that you wouldn’t even remember why you were insecure in the first place.

“So fuckin’ good t’me, don’t even know how I got ye,” he grunted. The words showered you with warmth, filling you up and teetering you near the edge. “I’m a lucky bastard.”

You could feel the build up grow more intense, your moans uncontrollably slipping out. He continued to praise you, engulf you in his compliments, dripping with nothing but love and want.

It sent you over that edge, clenching around him and your breath getting caught in your throat. Just from that sight alone, reflecting back at Johnny from the mirror, he didn’t fall too far behind you, filling you with proof of his undying love and claiming you as his.

From the look of fucked out bliss on your face, he was sure he got the message through.

Cleaning you up and lying you on top him, he basked in the post clarity, hands massaging along your hips.

“I wish ye would’ve told me sooner, bonnie,” he murmured softly, lips pressed against the top of your head that rested on his bare chest. “There’s nothin’ wrong with yer body. I like it this way. Can squish it whenever I want.”

You laughed against him, propping your chin up so you could look at him. His eyes were soft combined with the goofy smile on his face. He looked like a man head over heels, and it was with you.

“If ye need a reminder again, I’ll be glad t’fuck you in front of the mirror as many times as ye need. Or ye can sit on my face so I can worship ye.”

“I might suffocate you if I do that,” you snorted in amusement.

“That’s the point, bonnie. Do I have t’show ye again that I don’t care? Suffocate me.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a bright laugh from him. He tugged you closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to your head. He’d happily show you as many times as you needed, no matter how many hours it took. He’d die a happy man if it meant getting to see and feel your softness everyday.

#angie's requests #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod requests

[emberuby]

in your arms forever — preview: chapter one. | p.js

pairing: park jongseong x reader (feat. ex. almost fiancé! park sunghoon)

a/n: here is a sneak peak of the first scene of chapter one <3 i've been writing a lot for the past few days but it's a slow process so i wanted to post a preview. however, i finally have a date for the release: june 14th woohoo! there will be 3 chapters and an epilogue. i have the entire story mapped out so i'm very excited!! if any of you have questions feel free to ask. ^^

warnings: the full chapter is pretty intense but the preview doesn't have many warnings, just isolation, slightly toxic! jay (may or may not get more toxic 🥹) and mentions of infidelity.

series taglist: @nshmrarki, @strxwbloody, @anittamaxwynnn, @heeheeyeoiizz01

wc: 980

It had been a week since you began living in Jongseong’s manor, a beautiful cage where your every move was monitored. You had an hour to spare before he came home, an hour to savour your solitude before the pretense of ignoring and dismissing him continued. Despite his attempts to break your shell and get closer to you, you maintained a cold distance.

Eva and Celia, Jongseong’s two corgis, laid beside you on the floor of Jongseong’s study as you read the books he left to keep you occupied, as if you were some helpless child. Your phone had been confiscated, leaving you with only the option to contact him through his servants. Any outing required a chaperone from his guards, who conveniently never allowed visits to your father, sister, not to mention Sunghoon. Gods, you missed Sunghoon. Your body ached to be held by him again, and your mind grieved at the thought of never seeing him again.

Time had frozen since you entered Jongseong’s home. You had been mostly alone with your thoughts, except for the corgis’ whines when they were hungry. The servants and guards barely acknowledged you unless it was to tell you not to do something. You kept wondering what your father could have possibly done to piss off the Parks and now owe something to them. This marriage, you were certain, was not about the flimsy excuse your father had told you but rather the Parks’ insatiable hunger for power. A part of you was grateful that all they demanded was a marriage, given they could easily kill you and your family with a snap of their fingers. You shivered at the thought.

“How are my sweet girls doing?” you heard from the door, and you sat up, surprised that your fiancé was back so early. Jongseong smiled widely and walked up to Eva and Celia to pet them. He began scratching Celia’s chin, followed by asking, “Has Y/N been treating you well? I’m sure she has; I know how much you love her.” He turned around to face you and continued, “I’m honestly quite jealous of how much time you spend with them. I think they’re starting to like you more than me,” he laughed to himself.

Your face remained unmoving; you didn’t know what to say back. You tried to stand up by yourself, but Jongseong grabbed your hand and gently pulled you up instead. You hated how your body reacted every time he touched you. Your body was hot whenever he was near, and your skin felt like it was on fire wherever he laid his hand. You would have been lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He had the alluring look of his mother, magnificently beautiful. It was hard not to stare and admire him when he wasn’t looking. Then you remembered just how wrong this all was. You had the love of your life, and you were betraying him every time you leaned too far into Jongseong.

“Cat got your tongue, my love?” Your thoughts were interrupted by him again. The more you got to know him, the less he intimidated you. Honestly, you thought he was quite pathetic, constantly at the beck and call of his mother, desperate for her approval. You weren’t sure if he did anything without his mother knowing about it. It made you feel a bit brave.

Brave enough to point your chin towards him and glare at him, “I want you to let me go see Sunghoon.” He stood there in silence for about a minute, with a completely unreadable expression. You thought he may have not heard you until his menacing laughter broke the stillness. The way he was folded over, you’d think you were a comedian.

He finally calmed down and said, “That’s hilarious, Y/N. I know you’re not stupid. Tell me why the fuck I should let you go see your boy toy?”

“He’s not a boy toy,” you continued testing your luck, “and why not? It’s not like we’re in a real relationship. I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me—” he cut you off.

“Don’t fucking think about it. Our marriage is public news as of now. Why do you think I’m so scared of letting you out? The paparazzi are on our ass and they can’t find out that this is arranged,” he furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed, “Can’t have the press thinking I’m getting cuckolded by my wife with some nobody, now can I? Wouldn’t be good for my reputation.”

You clenched your fists, anger boiling inside you. “But I know this isn’t about your reputation. I know you and your mother are using me as a pawn. You’re probably out whoring yourself around with any girl that gives you attention, but gods forbid I go to see my boyfriend!” You yelled that last part and immediately regretted it when Eva began whining.

The fire in Jongseong’s eyes extinguished. “You are scaring the girls, Y/N,” Jongseong sighed and stepped closer, held your waist, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His eyes softened slightly, but his presence was still intimidating. “Don’t think so low of me, honey. I admit I’m a romantic, but I would never be unfaithful. You’re mine now, and I’m yours.”

Him standing so close reminded you just how much he towered over you. Half of you wanted to hit him in the chest and run in the other direction, while the other wanted to lean into his touch and let him hold you closer.

“Remember, Y/N, you are my wife. That little boyfriend of yours is someone you need to forget. You can keep fighting it, but it doesn’t change the facts,” then he whispered, “you belong to me.” He could feel you tremble in his arms, so he reached out for your hand and squeezed it.

#jay enhypen #park jongseong #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #iyaf🕊

[brucewaynehater101]

Space Emperor Tim decides to take a break from Earth. He fills out the paperwork that he developed as Robin for official on break status. He fills out the paperwork for vacation from WE. He finishes his active cases and very valiantly restrains himself from taking up new ones. His version of vacation reading is a file cabinet of cold cases so he puts those together for his personal entertainment for his vacation. He sublets his civilian apartment. He makes rigged bets with Jason, Dick, and Stephanie to get them to watch over his part of Gotham while he's gone.

Then he, Kon, Cassie, and Bart jump in the spaceship and head for the empire. They have new costumes to show off and laugh at one another about. They are going to decompress and Cassie will be searching the empire for a therapist for each of them. While she understands Tim's reluctance, Gothamite, she would like the team birb to at least get some healthier coping mechanisms figured out. She would honestly like all of them to have some better coping mechanisms.

The thing is though that Tim never actually, verbally told anyone he was going anywhere, much less leaving earth. The only one who did actively let anyone on earth know was Cassie, she told her mom and she let Greta, Anita, and Cissie know. All four have been promised souvenirs. Mrs. Sandsmark let Diana know that Cassie would be on vacation and unavailable for hero things for a bit. Kon is distant from the Kents, if they even know he exists given Clark's hot and cold attitude towards him, but to be polite Kon left a letter for Ma and Pa that he was going on vacation with his team. Bart's guardian situation is also very up in the air so he didn't bother to tell anyone. All the Bats are in the dark. Only Young Justice even knows that Bart has a spaceship. And turns out that Tim is the only one who uses his official on a break paperwork. And Bruce never read any of his (very edited) reports from his time with Young Justice.

The first clue that the Bats get that Tim isn't actually there in Gotham is from a reporter who asks Brucie how Tim is doing on his vacation?

Meanwhile Tim and his life partners are touring the empire and they've added another planet. And there's an imperial design contest for the best palace for the empire because the empire is hoping that if their baby has his own home here in the empire instead of living out of his ship or using the residences of their former leaders, he might stay for longer periods of time or be there physically more often. Tim is trying to discourage the palace thing as a waste of resources and get people to design gardens instead. Bart may or may not be conspiring with scientists to create a Death Star without the planet destroying capabilities as his own entry to the imperial palace contest. Kon is making sure Tim doesn't notice Bart's plans by dragging Tim through markets and looking for the best examples of ugly-cute baby emperor and consorts merchandise. So far the winner is a set of dishes and each piece has what is presumably their very stylized faces on them. Cassie is taking her turn of being the imperial bodyguard and making sure none of their fans get too overzealous. She is absolutely getting the dishes for the people back home.

Fuck. I love this so much.

Also, referring to YJ as Tim's life partners??? Yes. Absolutely. Idc if people ship them or just see them as a queerplatonic poly relationship. They are for sure life partners. That's the most adequate description for the four of them. Even if some of them choose to date some of the others, if they all date each other, or none date each other, they have a very special bond. No matter the distance or time apart, they are life partners. Gods, I'm vibing with that description so much.

Anyways, Tim being the only one to fill out his vacation/time off paperwork makes so much sense. I also hc that half of the reason he "hides" so much is just that he forgets he has to inform people of shit. He's so used to not telling people what's going on with him that he legitimately gets surprised when they get mad or worried at him because of it. He also goes out of his way to keep tabs on his loved ones and doesn't quite understand why he would need to inform them since they don't need to tell him about their plans. For this hc, I think that YJ had some bumps with this tendency of Tim until they worked out that they just need to ask him. They have a gc where they will ask Tim questions to keep everyone up to date.

Also, hell yeah to the merch and plates ideas. I wonder how YJ is going to explain where they got plates of the core four's faces (since some folks, perhaps Dick, will ask where to get more).

If Tim did request for gardens, I'd love to see what different ones look like. Since they are alien planets, they probably have different ecological systems. They would also have separate ideas on what's considered "beautiful" or worth keeping in a garden-like exhibit.

Thank you for also going in-depth on Kon, Bart, and Cassie's backgrounds. It was cool seeing how they communicated with their respective social groups

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au #ruler of worlds au #yj98

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Soft

They/Them used for the reader, your tummy gets grabbed, dirty talk.

“-oh my, do you doubt my love for you then?”

“Huh? Oh, no . Nonono, of course not. I know you love me, and I love you a whole bunch too. It's just…I don’t understand why you're attracted to me... physically I guess.”  At that Jade immediately halts his steps, pausing mid-stride as he processes their words.

“Uh…Jade?” They question nervously from his side.

Shifting his towering, frame, he takes a moment to quickly survey his surroundings, glancing left and right to ensure they are alone before decisively closing the distance between them. With a sense of purpose, Jade plants his hands firmly on either side of the Prefect's head, the sheer size of his palms able to nearly engulf their face as he leans down, bringing his features mere inches from theirs.

“My my, what a cruel little human you are…”

“W-what? Jade, I don’t-”

The words die in their throat as an intense, bi-colored gaze bores into their eyes, an unreadable expression on his face as he silently scrutinizes them, the air thick with anticipation. They can feel Jade's warm breath ghosting across their skin, heart pounding in their chest as they wait with bated breath to see what the imposing figure will do next, half expecting him to use his unique magic to get his answer. 

Jade gazed down at the flustered human, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his mouth began to split into a wide grin, showing off the sharp teeth he typically hides. He could see the confusion and uncertainty written all over their face, and it only served to pique his interest further. 

With a low, rumbling chuckle, he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from theirs. "My dear pearl, you truly have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?" he murmured, his breath ghosting across their skin. The way their eyes widened, the faint tremor in their voice - it was all so deliciously endearing to him. Jade knew he was an imposing figure, towering over the smaller human, and he reveled in the power he held in this moment. But beneath his teasing, there was a genuine longing.

He ached to show them, to make them understand just how captivating they were in his eyes. With a featherlight touch, he trailed his fingers down their cheek, drinking in their flustered reaction. "Or perhaps," he purred in a low tone, "this is your way of testing me, of seeing how far I'll go to prove my affections?" His gaze darkened, smoldering with an intensity that left the Prefect trembling. Whatever the reason, Jade was determined to make them see - to make them feel - the depth of his love and attraction. This was no mere game; it was a dance of passion, and he fully intended to lead.

“Once you are again ready for me, I will be sure to kiss every freckle on your skin. I will bury my face into your soft pliant stomach, lovingly draw our initials with my fingertips, and savor the comforting warmth and-” His hand then drifts lower, caressing their hip with a gentle, almost reverent touch before moving to gently grasp a handful of their soft stomach.

“Suppleness of your lovely form.”

He moves his face to rest by their ear before speaking again, swallowing his salvia he almost drools at the combination of the Prefects scent with the mental picture of his next words. “How I look forward to when I get to once again kneed and suck that soft chest of yours...in the way I know you love. I want to see it bounce for me when I dig my claws into your hips and make them move with my thrusts. I want to again be crushed and choked by your cushy thighs. To nibble every inch of your body and leave many new marks, because not only do I find you lovely…”

“You. Are. Mine.”

As he speaks, he carefully enunciates each word, ensuring that every syllable is clearly articulated and emphasized before he slowly pulls back. Jade's hands linger on their body for a moment, his fingertips tracing the contours and curves one last time.

There is hesitance in his movements, a subtle resistance to the idea of removing that physical connection. Yet, with a deep, steadying breath, Jade straightens his posture, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. The loss of that intimate contact is palpable, but he steels himself, pushing past the almost instinctive desire to maintain the closeness. His expression returns to his usual smile, betraying none of the conflict playing out within him, and clears his throat.

With a tilt to his head, he finally asks. “Now…shall I continue escorting you to your class?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #suggestive #dirty talk #jade leech #jade/reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade #twisted wonderland jade

[jo-speaks]

boat ride

in which...

Quinn takes fem! reader out for a ride on the lake.

warning: smut below! MDNI!!

note: second imagine for my 'alphabet dates' series! This one really isn't a "date", but it's okay. also, this is my first time writing smut so I would really appreciate some feedback bc I have no idea if it's good or not (i'm laughing but i'm not) wc: 2083

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You blinked your eyes open, turning to face Quinn, “I am now.” He let out a breathy laugh, “Sorry.”

Making a noise, you rolled over completely to wrap one of your legs over his waist. Your hand gently found its way to the nape of his neck, messing with the messy curls. Instinctively, he brought up his own hand to slightly lift up the big hoodie you were wearing, which was actually his, to rub the thigh of the leg that you had placed over top of him. 

“What time is it?” You mumbled. 

Quinn reached behind his head to grab his phone that was next to the bed, “2:45.”

Suddenly the lack of light in the room made a lot of sense. You and Quinn had been out on the lake the whole day and the second you had taken a shower after coming back in the house, you passed out in your shared bed. 

You tugged gently on Quinn’s curls, causing him to let out a groan. He leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

It started off like every other kiss, slow, soft, and full of love. But, it slowly became more aggressive. You tried to pull away to take a breath, but Quinn didn’t let you. He trailed his hand up, going from your thigh to your ass. 

He gave it a gentle squeeze, causing you to let out a soft moan into the kiss. You didn’t pull away from the kiss, that had now turned into something far from sweet, as you shifted over Quinn, your legs on either side of his waist. 

You rolled your hips into Quinn, causing him to grip you tighter and buck his own hips up closer to you. 

Before it could go any further, you pushed his lips away from you. He tried to pull you back in, but you kept him away. 

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” He asked, sounding extremely out of breath. 

“Yeah, I just…” You took a deep breath, “We can’t do this here.” Quinn furrowed his eyebrows, “Why not? They’re all asleep.”

You shook your head, “I know. But how many times do your brothers wake up around this time to grab something or use the bathroom?”

Quinn took a second to think about your words, realizing you were right. He knew how you felt about people hearing the two of you during such an intimate moment, and he couldn’t help but feel the same way.

He’s the only one who could hear you that way.

After a minute or two, he lifted you off of him and grabbed his phone. Before you could question his actions, he spoke up. 

“Put your shoes on. We’re going somewhere.” He mumbled, getting up and walking out of the room. 

You took a moment, then immediately snapped into action. You slipped on a pair of Uggs and quietly got up to follow Quinn. Making your way downstairs, you could see your boyfriend standing out on the porch, keys in hand. 

Walking over, you slid open the glass door, causing Quinn to turn around. He closed the door quickly, grabbing your hand in his as he walked towards the deck. 

Obviously, it wasn’t busy at all. You could see some lights in the distance, coming from the country club, but the lake itself was pretty dark and quiet. Peaceful, even.

By the time you finished taking in the scenery, you could hear the engine of the boat turn on. Quinn grimaced at the loudness before extending his hand out towards you. You gladly accepted, stepping into the boat. You sat on the floor of the boat next to Quinn who was in the driver's seat.

The moment you were in, Quinn was driving off. The further away you got from the house, the more of your surrounding you were able to take in. Small waves were forming the more he sped up. You knew he wasn’t taking in anything, his mind only focused on one goal, but that didn’t stop you from speaking up. 

“It’s pretty out here.” You said, looking up at Quinn.

He didn’t answer, instead putting the boat in park. Looking down at you, he gave you a sweet smile before pulling you up to straddle his lap. Quinn took a minute, taking in your features as he rubbed his hands softly over your thighs. 

“How did I get so lucky?” He mumbled, leaning in to press his lips on yours.

Like before, there was something so sweet about the kiss. Your lips moved softly against his as you wished you could stay in this moment forever.

However, you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. At least not right now. 

As if it was muscle memory, you grind your hips into Quinn slowly, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips. He gave your sides a squeeze as he pressed you down harder, allowing you to feel him through his sweats. 

Knowing it was the only thing covering you, he left your hoodie on, not wanting to expose you to the chilly Michigan winds, yet his hands still found their way underneath it. You shivered as he grazed his hands over your breasts, the coldness of his fingers causing your nipples to peak.

Quinn continued his actions as he pulled away from your lips, trailing his kisses from your lips down to your neck. Your hands found their way to the back of his head, gripping tightly as he found that one spot that made you squirm. 

You let out a soft moan, “Quinn.”

“I know, baby.” He whispered.

He didn’t stop his attack on your neck as he pulled your panties to the side. The second his fingers came in contact with the wetness between your legs, he couldn’t help but smirk. “All this from a few kisses?”

You didn’t get the chance to respond as he spread your slick around, quickly finding the spot you needed his fingers the most. You let out a moan, louder than you intended to, as Quinn rubbed your clit. 

“Shit, Quinn.” You mumbled, biting your lip, trying to keep yourself from getting too loud. 

Unfortunately for you, Quinn wasn’t a fan of the silence. He moved his fingers faster, causing more noises to spill involuntarily past and your hips to grind against his hand. 

“Been so long. Let me hear you, sweet girl.” He whispered. 

At this point, Quinn didn’t care if you were cold or not. He lifted your hoodie up, exposing your bare chest to him. He let out a groan before he got closer, pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts. 

It was slowly becoming too much. His fingers mixed with the feeling of his tongue running over your nipples was getting you closer and closer to your peak. 

The second your noises became louder and your back arched closer to his mouth, Quinn knew it was coming. 

Suddenly, the knot in your stomach snapped, a stream of obscenities past your lips as your legs shook and you gripped his hair tighter, the groan he let out only adding to the pleasure.

“There you go.” Quinn mumurred, keeping his movements going as he worked you through your high. 

You shifted away from his hand the second you came down, silently telling Quinn it was too much. He understood completely, pulling his hand away from your now sensitive pussy.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips, “You did so good, baby. You always do.”

His praise was something you would never get sick of, especially during moments like this. It let you know that he cared about you, not that you ever questioned it, but the constant reassurance made sure of that. 

Quinn wanted to give you a minute to rest, but you didn’t need it. Almost instantly, you lifted your hips, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He chuckled as you struggled to get them down due to his seated position.

After a few seconds of laughing at your struggles, he helped you out. He lifted his hips and pulled them down along with his navy boxers. 

You let out a soft gasp as his cock slapped against his stomach. He laughed softly at your reaction, knowing you’ve seen it a million times. Pulling you back towards him, he kissed you slowly. 

You were getting antsy, wanting nothing more than for him to be inside of you. You pulled away suddenly, causing a look of confusion to wash over his face. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I need you, Quinny.” You admitted bashfully. 

A smirk appeared on his face, “Yeah? What do you need from me, pretty girl?” 

You were at a loss for words, the only thoughts forming in your head being lewd ones. When you didn’t answer, Quinn bucked his hips up, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit. The noise that escaped your mouth was one Quinn would never forget. 

“That.” You whispered, “I need you to fuck me, Quinn.” 

He smiled at your confession. Deciding not to make you wait any longer, he lined himself up before entering you with one swift thrust. The two of you let out matching moans at the action, neither one of you moving as you adjusted to feeling.

“I missed you.” Quinn panted, trying his best not to move until you did. 

You closed your eyes as you lifted your hips before dropping them again, causing a raspy moan to pass Quinn’s lips. “I missed you too.”

Opening your eyes, you got a good look at Quinn’s current state. You had only moved once, but his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut as he breathed heavily. You smiled at the sight, deciding to move your hips up again to see his reaction. 

The second you did, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He snapped his head up and began thrusting into you relentlessly. By the way he was feeling, Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d last. 

“Oh my god.” You cried out, trying to stay up straight. 

Quinn let out a strangled gasp, “You feel so good, Y/N. So-” He cut himself off with a loud groan as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Your head came down onto his shoulders as you wrapped your hands around his upper body to keep yourself grounded. Your nails dragged down his back, a cry of pleasure leaving your mouth as he hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

He let out a guttural moan at the feeling, knowing the scratches would be red and visible in the morning. 

You rise and fall on his cock, harder and faster as you match his thrusts, his only response being a breathy grunt at the overwhelming feeling. 

“I’m close, Quinny.” You whimpered, trying your best to prolong your orgasm as much as you could in order to not end the moment.

But you could only do so much. 

Quinn brought one hand down from your waist to your clit, pressing down rather hard before rubbing it for the second time that night.

“Shit!” You called out.

You couldn’t keep up as he buried himself impossibly deeper into you. His actions were becoming more and more sloppy as he got close. And by the way his grip got tighter on your hip, you could tell he was right there with you.

You let out a breathy moan, “I’m gonna come.”

Quinn’s finger sped up, as did his hips, “Then come, baby. No one’s stopping you.”

It was those words that did it.

For the second time that night, you let go, allowing yourself to be in complete euphoria as Quinn continued moving, trying to extend your moment of pure bliss. 

The feeling of your muscles contracting around him caused Quinn to let go with you, his release spurting inside of you as he let out noise that could only be described as sinful. 

When you both came to, he placed loving kisses on your shoulder. “Did so good for me. So good.”

You made a noise, your body too exhausted to move from your current position. You both didn’t make any effort to move away from each other, trying to enjoy the closeness you had been starved of since the start of the offseason. 

“I love you.” Quinn whispered, “I love you more than you know.”

A sweet smile formed on your face, “I love you too.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl hockey