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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

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dior-and-dietcoke · 1 month

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" HOT MODEL SEX. " | BONTEN VERSION

starring! : mikey, sanzu, ran, rindō, kakucho, koko, takeomi

warnings! : 18+, actual corruption, reader smokes, petnames (good girl), drunk sex, anal sex, oral, really long

a/n! : This is an alternative to the first model!reader fic, this time with bonten (there's also gonna be a part two of this one)

The guys did a lot of things

Drugs, murder, theft, gambling, more drugs and

Going to fashion shows.

It's mostly just to wind down and be social..plus the men are fashionable, it's just a thing that comes with being born in Tokyo. It became a ritual, whenever one of their favorite designers did a show and there was nothing important to do that other people couldn't do, they would check it out.

They'd sit in the front while photographers huddled the very front of the stage.

The haitanis and koko enjoyed these shows the most, especially the Versace, dior and dolce shows. Before every show started, they'd look through the small brochure they'd give out, showing the clothes and, of course, the models.

There was this one beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, elegant, fierce model that caught their eye everytime. They've seen her already many, many times, and that model was you.

Your legs, your walk, your hips, and your face. Your very presence made these cold men feel something again, admiration.

Sanzu was high as fuck at all the shows, having just done a few lines in the bathroom but no matter how dazed he was, he'd always took notice of you..being high made you somehow even more ethereal. You looked like an angel, like a holy vision.

"Oh..she's here again," Ran mentioned, reading the brochure, staring at the picture and tilting the thin pages to show his brother, rin immediately smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.

The anticipation of you arriving on the runway was like foreplay, but when you appeared in skimpy clothes, showing off that sexy body of yours, walking with purpose and confidence made these men horny. Even mikey, he just liked that menacing aura around you, especially when you wore that heavy smokey cat eye that made your eyes look like daggers, ready to kill.

The men would notice the looks you'd give them, and only them. Sometimes, even sly and sexy smirks when you wouldn't be dead focused on the way in front of you. You recognized the men, of course you did. It's hard not to notice them. They were admittedly flashy and attractive men. You had no idea what horrible and dangerous men they actually were, though..

One fateful after party with your co worker's and fellow models, drinking champagne in a tight black mini dress, you spotted the men from the show at a table, smoking and drinking. Eyes set on you.

With your mind a little buzzed and feeling extra sexy, you thought you might excuse yourself and go outside for a smoke, but not before walking past their table and smiling at the two lilac haired men.

You were standing outside on your Louboutins, feeling the cold night air hit your hot skin. You heard the door open and sure enough..

It was the two men.

they were walking right up to you. as you put your cig between your glossy lips, they both held up lighters next to you. You eyed them up and felt a shiver up your spine. You smirked and leaned forward to let one of them light your cigarette.

"The show was fabulous tonight.." the taller one said before holding out his hand. "Ran." He introduced. "Rindou," the other followed.

A smirk crept up on your lips again before blowing smoke out of your lungs and you continued to tell the men your own name

"We know." Rindou said, with his hand and cigarette covering his mouth.

Not long after the little meeting, you went back inside and met the other men since the brothers invited you to the table.

As you all talked, you felt how the white hot stares of the men made you sweat and feel their lust radiating. You felt high, exchanging lustful looks with each of the men..

Koko was particularly interesting to you, the way he carried himself and his slightly feminine demeanor made you attracted to him.

Kakucho had that boyish and shy charm to him, takeomi was a hot older man and sanzu seemed like he'd be a crazy fuck.

You'd die to get tag teamed by the brothers.

Mikey had that mysterious and melancholic aura to him.

They were all sexy and you'd let yourself get whored out by them. You'd definitely meet these men again..

Luckily, the brothers gave you their numbers, saying, "Come by our Penthouse sometime, yeah?" Making you smile as you saw they already gave you the address. "We'll see.." you said teasingly before getting up and walking back to your friends.

One of your friends and Japanese model, sachiko, came up to you with a concerned look on her face. "Did you just talk with those men?" She asked, flipping her long black and shiny hair back.

"Yeah, why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow

She softly grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around so the men were out of sight. "You don't know who they are?" She whispered, you shook your head and let out a quick laugh, "No, but I'm trying to" you responded, jokingly.

"You should stay away from them, I'm telling you..they're dangerous."

You just laughed again, thinking she was joking, or trying to get you away from some kind of players. but she didn't seem to smile or change her worried look. She was serious.

"I'll be careful." You smiled. Trying to calm her.

Sachiko let go of your shoulder. She didn't look like your words calmed her, but she knew you're an adult woman and could take care of yourself..

She couldn't do more than warn you and hope you listen to her words.

A week afterwards, all the shows were done and you found the little note from the hot guys.

You were just done showering and took your phone out, it was 20:30.

You don't have anything to do right now, and you don't wanna sleep yet, so..

Maybe you'll be a little bitch and just show up without a warning..but no, for the first actual meeting you should call beforehand.

You picked up your phone and typed the number in. For the first time in years, you felt nervous to call someone..you felt like you were 14 again and you're about to call your high-school crush. It felt nice to feel like that again, but your hands were slightly shaking when you heard the phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up. Your heart raced and your body tensed up

"..yeah?" rindou picked up, and he sounded out of breath and his voice echoed

"Rindou, right?" You confirmed, and he went quiet for a second before he sensually chuckled

"Y'know, in Japan, if you don't know someone that well, you use their last name.." he smugly corrected you

You grinned. "Right, I'm sorry, Mr.Haitani." he went quiet again before-

"Good girl,"

Your body tensed up, and your blood ran hot. "How come you're calling so late?"

"You mentioned that you and your brother owned a club, I just wanted to know which one it was"

Not long after that call you dried your hair, did your makeup and picked out a sexy I.am.gia black mini dress with some miumiu heels. you grabbed your dior saddle bag and put on your jewlery as you adored yourself in the mirror, striked poses and kissed the mirror before you grabbed your keys and happily went out.

you hailed a cab and told the taxi driver to drive you to roppongi at the haitani club, the man then side eyed you and asked what a woman like you wanted at a club like that, you just laughed and didnt answer.

truly you didnt wanna know why every person was so on the fence about these people, you just wanted to have fun and maybe get some dick.

once the man dropped you off, you thanked him and handed him the money, as you stepped out he said "hey, be careful." before he drove off again.

as you set your eyes on the club, the building was gigantic, booming with music and bright flurescent purple lights. there was a line of people in front of the entrance. You did not have the nerve to wait THAT long to get into a club you didn't even know was worth the hassle.

but thankfully, a man with a lilac mullet and a cig in his mouth stepped out of the vip entrance. It was rindou. your eyes met, and his immediately widened as he choked on his cigarette smoke. He waved you over to him, and you skipped to him on your pretty heels, clacking against the smooth concrete.

he hugged you as a greeting and you smiled

"You.." he chuckled, slightly embarrassed biting his bottom lip."You look amazing." he complimented, eying you up and down as if he was ready to just pull you into the club and eat you up

..or out.

he looked at the bouncer and grabbed your hand. "She's with us," he mentioned, to which he nodded. "Yes, sir"

rin motioned his head for you to head inside with a playful smirk while he kept holding your hand.

the music inside was even louder than you expected, the second you looked around you saw multiple hot people dancing, drinking and making out.

rin led you to a glass staircase with a tall man standing in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as rindou walked up to him. you looked at rin. Obviously, he's one of the owners. Of course, he's gonna be let through. the two of you reached the top of the staircase and saw couches with glass tables in front of them

people were also drinking, and women were dancing, but some people were also doing cocaine. rindou just put his hand on your shoulder as you approached the table where his brother was sitting. he stood up when he saw you to hug you. "heyy, god, you look gorgeous.." he said with both his hands on your hips. "Come sit with us." You did as he asked and sat down on the white couch, crossing your legs.

rindou sat down next to you just like his brother, so now you were sandwiched between two hot men in business suits that wore beautiful smelling perfume. "whatdya wanna drink?" the younger brother asked, showing you the drink menu.

you ordered some rosé and the two just ordered the same. once the three of you were a little tipsy, you got handsy, and both of the brothers had their hands on either your lower back or thighs, close to being under your mini dress.

you also kissed them multiple times with tongue, rindou took the bottle and held it to your mouth, letting you drink, watching some of the alcohol spill from your mouth down between the valley of your tits. you giggled and kissed him afterwards. He softly groaned into the kiss as you suddenly felt rans lips against your neck, sucking harshly, trying to get your attention again. you looked back at him with a smile, he was pouting "dont forget about mee" he complained playfully before grabbing your hot and flushed face to press his wet lips against your own, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, seeking your own. rindou rolled his eyes. " You've been hoarding her all for yourself the whole time." ran, broke the kiss, and looked at you, "then let's just ask her who she wants to go home with"

you bit your bottom lip and swiped some of your hair from your face. "dont be mad if i ask this.." You began, and the brothers just stared at you in expectation as their ringed hands grabbed at your soft thighs, feeling burning cold against your hot skin. "Can i go with both of you?" their eyes widened, they didnt expect you to ask that, but they weren't mad, far from it, actually.

"i mean, we've never actually shared a girl before, but.." ran began and kissed behind your ear. "we'll be happy to have you being our first..right, rin?" he asked his brother, to which his hand turned your head to look at him. "i don't mind that.." he said softly against your glossy lips before kissing you.

the three of you stumbled out of the club and the flashing lights of cameras suddenly blinded you, you rolled your eyes as they yelled your name, you had no idea how the fuck the stalkerrazzi even found you. "You're so populaaar," ran drunkenly hummed, just continuing to drag you along. you just rolled your eyes again, shielding your eyes from the lights. There's nothing you hated more than these fuckers..

suddenly, in your drunken mind you had an idea that you were probably gonna regret in the morning.

so you just suddenly grabbed rin by his tie to aggressively make out with him as your other hand grabbed at rans crotch, you love to shock the paparazzi, you know they wont leave you alone, so you can at least make them uncomfortable while you tongue fuck this hot and apperantly controversial guy and grabbing the cock of an also controversial man

you broke the kiss and looked back at the cameras, holding your middle finger up with a big smile, putting on your dior shades, rin just stuck out his tongue as his brother did the same,

ran dragged you back to their black Bentley, you then pulled both of the men into the back of the car, the flashing lights following you to the car and you just sat yourself down into ran's lap as you kept kissing rindou, swinging one of your legs across his lap. the driver hesitantly asked. "..wh-where to, sir?" rin tore himself away from your enchanting lips "home."

you bareley remember the drive home, all you remember was having rins cock on your mouth and rans slim but long fingers in your wet cunt. And you remember when you two were in their bedroom you were completely naked except for your heels, getting pounded in the ass and having another hard cock in your throat, ran was in the front and rindou was in the back, you whimpered and whined as you felt their long and hot cocks filling you to the brim, you faintly heard their heavy breathing and little compliments that made you drool on rans cock even more.

"You're so good- so fucking good," ran huffed before letting out a gutteral moan, moving his hips into your face, looking down at you with his hand softly settled in your beautiful hair.

"Her fucking ass is so tight-" rindou groaned lowly before giving you a firm smack on the ass, while his other hand held your hips in a tight grip. "You've never done anal before, did you?" He asked, out of breath.

Ran pulled his dick out of your glossy mouth for you to answer, but your hand kept stroking him "no.." you paused to moan but it feels fucking good.." you mewled, biting your bottom lip, smearing your lip liner even more.

Rindou grinned down at you and huffed out a small chuckle "I can tell, baby" he said "can feel how wet your pussy is" he said before continuing to pound into you

Ran smiled down at you and took your hand "your pussy needs some attention too, huh?" He smacked his lips as if he was pitying you "my selfish brother completely ignored your pretty clit.." Ran helped you up and rindou immediately took your arms into his rough hands, his cold metal rings burning your scorching hot skin.

The older brother got in front of you to lift your leg and put it around his waist, aligning his cock with your pussy.

You thought you'd finally get to cum soon but then he slid the tip of his cock through your wet cunt and circle your clit with it "your gasps when it hits your clit are so cute" he teased.

You bit your lip even harder, not even caring if you're gonna bruise it or draw blood. You just wanted his cock, you never wanted anything more.

"Please ran--" "ah-ah" rindou interrupted you. "Remember what I told you about formality?" You let out a frustrated moan, throwing your head back feeling rindous fat cock breaking you in, almost feeling him in your guts. "Please, Mr.Haitani..fuck me stupid, sir"

That was all you remember when you woke up in-between the two gorgeous men, their arms over you under the soft blanket. As comfortable as you were, you had a splitting headache and aching legs. you planned on getting up but you saw your phone light up on the bedside table behind rindou, you reached over him carefully to not wake him.

Once you read the messages you almost jumped up and screamed in anger and embarrassment.

Last night events with the paparazzi went viral and everyone was texting you about it, your friends were just cheering for you but the news sites were shocked about the "alleged mob members hanging out with supermodel"

Alleged mob members??

You looked at the sleeping men next to you and froze up, it felt like time stopped. You sat there for ten minutes before continuing to read the articles your friends sent you, you looked so fucked up in those pictures, still hot but...fucked up.

Surprisingly, you didn't care that much about them being part of a criminal organization, you were just shocked that no one told you up front.

You carefully got up, put on your bra and panties before getting out of the room to get yourself a glass of water to sober up a bit, then raid their bathroom cabinet for some painkillers.

Your arms, thighs and ass hurt like hell. You got to the kitchen and immediately filled a glass with water, you chugged it down and filled it up again.

As you drank your second glass you heard footsteps, probably woke one of them up as you climbed over them.

You suddenly choked on your water when three of the other guys you met walked around the corner, seeing you almost naked, messy hair and messed up makeup. It was koko, takeomi and kakucho.

They stopped in their tracks, trying and failing not to look you up and down

"Fuck- sorry I didn't know- I thought this was the brothers' place" you tried to explain, wiping the spilled water from your chin

Kakucho looked down at the floor while shaking his head "don't apologize, we're sorry we didn't know you were still here.."

"Still here?" You asked, placing the glass down on the white marble counter

Takeomi chuckled. "You guys weren't exactly quiet.." kakucho awkwardly coughed. He was so cute..you'd suck him off right here, even with your sore throat. "uh..do you want some painkillers?" Kaku asked politely, still making eye contact with the floor.

You smiled "yes, thank you.." kakucho nodded and walked away, he expected you to wait there for him to come back but you followed him, you noticed his eyes quickly flicking yo you every now and then.

You leaned against the sink once you two reached the bathroom, your hips right next to his face, you looked down at him and he looked up at you after he tried to find some painkillers, he tried to look back down but you kept his head up by his chin, making him gulp heavily and keep his eyes fixed on you this time

He was immediately hard and he didn't know why, nothing happened..yet.

But It didn't take long, or many words

For him to have your cunt on his mouth and your gorgeous legs on his shoulders, he didn't seem like it, but the way he was moving his tongue now made up for the little words you exchanged, and before you knew it you were cumming in a shaking frenzy, moaning and biting your fingers to keep quiet. Your fingers in his pretty and smooth ebony hair, feeling his heavy breath on your mound while grinding back on his face.

Once you came back, you were wobbly on your legs, but held onto kakus strong arm for leverage. You leaned over to him "maybe next time we'll have more time to do more" you whispered before kissing his cheek.

You turned the corner and more men were there. The brothers, sanzu and mikey..

"There's the one that got away" Ran said taking a drag of his cigarette while rindou just looked you up and down while drinking some type of alcohol, in the morning.

His eyes told you that he was ready to go for another 4 rounds.

Sanzu stared at you intensely before speaking up "next time you guys hold a whole ass concert, I better be invited" rindou furrowed his eyebrows, looking like he was ready to vomit

"In your dreams, coke-head" Ran responded, reading the newspaper with crossed legs

You chuckled and sexily turned on your heels to walk back into the brothers' bedroom to get your clothes before heading back out, "let's party sometime again, huh?" You smiled, looking at the brothers, then sanzu..you don't know why but he seemed like fun to party with.

And lucky you, he stood up and walked after you, "let me drive you, it's pretty cold out and..you're not dressed for the weather" you chuckled and rolled your eyes "lead the way then.."

Surprisingly he didn't try to hit on you, the drive home..which disappointed you a bit. But when you saw your hotel you grabbed his shoulder and said "you can stop here" the pink haired man stopped his luxury car and got out before you to open your car door, what a gentleman.

"Ugh, you know what's crazy?" You asked him to which he grinned and tilted his head "what?"

"I'm already ready to party again.." you giggled to which he got a smug grin on his face "that's because those two snobs don't know shit about partying right."

You turned your head to him and smiled curiously "and you do?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, giving you a card with his number

"Call me when you're ready to party for real" you took the card with your index and middle finger, you grinned getting closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

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peterspinkrobe · 10 months

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Communion | AU Priest Miguel O’Hara x female Reader

A/N: I commissioned the above Priest Miguel. Ever since the artist sent the sketch, (@ ejpuki on twitter plz go show love!) this story has been a brewin’ in my cranium. I am not a newbie when it comes to fanfic, but a virgin to writing Miguel. Please accept this offering to the mania that is fandom. Feedback is appreciated. I know the tenses are probably all over the place. Part 2 is live!!. Let me know if you’re interested ~~

Warnings: Religious content, parents, dirty-minded reader, no mention of Y/N

As you sat in the middle pew, aisle seats, you fiddled with the dress your mother guilted you into wearing. The hem of the skirt had a little fraying and you couldn’t help but pick at it.

The meddling was met with a small smack on your wrist from your mother.

“Stop! You’re going to make it worse! I know it’s an old dress but it will only look that way if you pick at it.” The sharpness in tone and the lacy lilac dress from high school brought you back to all of the Sunday mornings you’d been ripped from the comfort of your bed to attend church.

Church. Your head was already starting to hurt from the early morning light pouring through the stained glasses windows, but your tried to remain neutral to spare mom.

Your relationship with the Almighty soured not long after your father passed. Faith was hard to come by and the struggles you’d faced recently only strained that even further.

“Sorry, mama.” You say quietly, acting like you’re still twelve and not in your mid twenties.

Ever since you moved back in you’ve had to live under “her rules”. Sunday service is one of those rules. Considering the headache you’ve caused her recently, you ignore your own and do as she asks. It’s only fair.

But church? Last week was your first time back inside a church since leaving for college five years ago. It was the same one you’d been dragged to in your younger years. The same stained pews, same old books of Psalms, same feeling of estrangement despite being surrounded by the same old folks.

Your mom had turned her attention to the lady that lived on our street and you turned your own attention to your fingernails, scraping underneath them for dirt that wasn’t there. You think about how you had dropped the habit until moving back in, but was interrupted by microphone static.

You pulled your gaze to the front of the church and saw Father Steen tapping the microphone. Despite only being five years since you last saw him, the man seemed to have aged decades. His frail frame balanced on the podium as he spoke. You realized why the microphone was needed when he started speaking - amplifying the hushed tone of the elder addressing his congregation.

“Good morning and many blessings to you all this Sunday morning,” he began and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze back to the frayed bit of your dress. His monotone voice was… kinda boring. You hated thinking that way because Father Steen was such a good man and he cared for your mother greatly when dad passed. He was mentioning an upcoming surgery and you were back to picking at your fingernails. His voice eked on through the speakers, “so we will be having a transitional deacon come in to take over my position until I recover. This fine young man has graciously accepted this position as he is working to become a priest himself. Please welcome Mr. O’Hara as he leads us in prayer to begin communion for this month.”

There is respectful applause and your eyes are still on your hands until your mom elbows you gently. You start to apologize again for not paying attention but notice she and her pew neighbor are giggling as they clap. You start to clap your own hands as you look up at what they were giggling like schoolgirls about when your hands freeze in their clapped position - almost like you’re praying.

The deacon that Father Steen introduced was… gorgeous, and he was looking at you. You blushed, embarrassingly, under the gaze of the dark eyes. Could he tell you hadn’t been paying attention?

Well, you most certainly were now.

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at your mother who was wiggling her eyebrows at you, causing you to blush even deeper and turn back to the front.

The first thing you notice about the man standing at the front of the church was his height. He towered over the podium he placed a hand on. Father Steen came up to only just above his elbows with his hunched body.

The eyes that were watching you now surveyed the room and the light from the windows shown dark, warm pools of irises. His face…

Sharp symmetry made up his countenance. Distinct cheekbones bobbing as the smooth bronze skin stretched upwards into a smile. The strong jawline accentuated with the muscles of his lips pulling back, revealing a dazzling toothy smile.

When he spoke for the first time, you understood why your mom cried during Psalms at times. His voice was gospel.

“Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your parish. I know that you have received excellent spiritual guidance from Father Steen. I can only hope to at least partially fill his shoes in his absence.” His voice boomed throughout the church with no need for a microphone. “Before we begin the sacred ritual that is communion, let us bow our heads in prayer.”

The church around you dutifully lowered their heads, and you did the same. Hating closing your eyes to the alluring man in front of the church. At least his voice still filled your ears with song.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today, in your house, in the name of your Son to receive the Body and Blood of Christ…” you decide it won’t be such a terrible sin to sneak a peek during prayer. You lift your head up to catch another glimpse at the ethereal creature leading prayer while he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. Right at you as he continued to recite, “We are all sinners, and we are all in need of your grace and forgiveness.” You start to think about how much you needed his grace, when you pinch yourself for the blasphemy.

You’re still staring at each other as he finishes, “We pray that You will bless this communion and that it will deepen our relationships with You.” You instantly feel heat in your gut when you wonder just how deep it can go..

You think you see him grin slightly, but he pulls his eyes away from yours and you quickly put your head back down.

“In Your Blessed Name, Amen.” He ends. “Amen”, the church responds in unison and you squeak it out as well.

The first pew stands and approaches the front of the church, choir boys retrieving the communion goods. You notice that there is a split in the line as one is given the small wafer and grape juice shot by Father Steen and the other line the new deacon.

You can’t keep your eyes off him as he offers the sacrament to each person in line. He is taking longer than Father Steen, seeming to ask questions before presenting the body and blood of a savior.

As it came to be your pew’s turn, you stood. With only a few people in front of you, you studied Miguel’s figure in short glances.

Along with being a towering figure, he was a wide one as well. Muscles filled in the long-sleeved black button down shirt. His large upper body tapered off into a slim waist, tucked neatly into dark pants. A belt accentuated the fit waist even further. Your eyes trailed quickly across the thick neck that was accessorized by the all too familiar white collar of priesthood. When you were just behind one more person, your eyes fell to the floor.

Part of you wished you would be on Father Steen’s side as you feel as though you’re about to burst from this proximity of the giant man. He was bent over speaking to an elder of the church, giving her a soft smile as she blessed him for coming to ‘our little church.’

The man in line in front of you stood to Father Steen and the woman was letting Mr. O’Hara go from a sweet embrace.

Thank God, you guessed, for the years of attending communion as your muscle memory tore your legs from their form rooted position at the altar.

You approached the tall figure and your eyes are locked on the lips of the man in front of you. You see them move, hearing nothing but the beating of your heart in your eardrums.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” You sputter the words and heat creeps into your chest and face.

A soft chuckle escapes his full lips and he smiles as he repeats, “What is your name?”

You give it to him. And he says it. The way your name sounds in his music makes you smile up at him. He holds your gaze for a moment before speaking again.

“The Body of Christ.” He extends his hand in an upward position, the white wafer between his index finger and thumb.

You bow your head slightly in reverence of the offering. As you start to pull your head up again, his pinky and ring finger catch under your chin, lifting your face the rest of the way.

You breathe out a small gasp and open your mouth. He seems to mirror the action slightly as his own mouth drops slightly open. You extend your tongue a little as he places the thin wafer onto it.

His gaze is heavy as he watches you take the offering into your mouth. Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb across your pouted bottom lip, catching some saliva with it.

“Amen.” You respond and it’s not until he pulls his hand from your face when you turn to grab a small glass of grape juice. “The Precious Blood.” You hear him say behind you as you bring the glass to your lips, relishing the sweet refreshment.

Your face is red hot as you turn to walk back to your pew, ignoring your mother’s glances as she had already been back to her seat.

The burning in your cheeks is even more fiery as it dawns on you that the whole church saw the exchange. You hope, you pray, that it was perceived as a normal moment between a new Shepard and a member of his flock.

Communion wraps up and Father Steen takes a seat behind the the new head of church as he begins his sermon. The slight pressure of his thumb on your bottom lip created a pool of heat in your belly that wouldn’t go away.

You try to pay attention to the Good Word, you really do, but your mind is other places. Definitely not holy places.

Maybe coming to church won’t be too bad after all…

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #priest au #atsv miguel #miguel x you #how do i even tag this #fanfic #spiderverse fanfic

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ferrstappen · 1 year

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the first one l Charles Leclerc imagine

a/n: so, I just KNOW Charles is a girl dad. I know three is his sweet spot, but idk if the boy would be the middle child or the youngest. what do you think? also, I'm working on requests and the collection pls trust me, but I'm a law student trying to hold my life together and not having a nervous breakdown every day <3

this first piece of dad!Charles is from this request <3

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader.

genre: dad!Charles, fluff.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, not proofread bc I don't have time for that shit.

summary: Charles tries to prepare to be the best dad for his daughter, even if she's just two days old.

It wasn't fun being heavily pregnant.

Yes, the illusion and excitement of a baby coming to complete your family was an emotion neither you nor Charles had the proper words to explain. Friends and even strangers affirmed it was going to be the most magical moment of your life, that you wouldn't even be able to imagine life before your daughter.

But that wasn't relevant now, it was the furthest thing on your mind, sleep being the only thing remotely important at the moment, and it didn't seem to come as a faint light was coming from the opposite side of the bed.

Charles was shirtless, probably cold while slightly propped on some pillows, reading something on his Kindle, a small frown noticeable between his brows. He clearly was very concentrated on whatever he was reading, the only thing that made his attention shift was the light groan you let out. Of course Charles' instantly put his attention on you, the muscles on his neck showing with the fast movement.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked you, his eyes fixed on your figure, very carefully placing his hand on your swollen belly.

"No, I'm not okay because I can't sleep and I have to sleep since your daughter is sucking every bit of energy and space left on my body, and to make matters worse, the light of your kindle makes it impossible to sleep," You said with a pettish tone, but Charles wasn't fazed, after almost nine months he was used to the mood swings. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm being such a bitch I'm sorry," and before you could stop, tears started streaming down your face, and that gained a reaction from Charles.

"No no no no, chérie. It's okay, it's just the hormones, it's fine," He carefully rubbed your swollen belly, feeling how the baby moved relentlessly. "Why do you move when mama is trying to sleep, mignonne?" Charles asked his unborn daughter, knowing with certainty she was listening to him.

"Because she's your daughter, why else?" You answered and he laughed, playfully rolling his eyes. "What are you reading in there, anyways?" This time you placed your hand on his hair, knowing Charles loved the little touches of affection.

He sheepishly smiled, "It's this book I found about pregnancy and the first weeks of the baby," he answered with a quiet tone, likely waiting for you to mock him.

Instead, fresh tears started streaming down your face, again. Sending Charles into a panic, again. "No no no no, chérie!"

✨✨✨✨

The apartment looked like a mess, the baby had arrived just two days earlier and didn't have time to even think about cleaning the extremely spacious penthouse overlooking the ocean, only focused on the little lilac bundle sleeping on her crib.

Since you left the hospital in the morning, where you asked for privacy and to not have any visitors, friends were constantly texting if now was a good time to visit you and the adorable newborn. You could've sworn every person in Monaco had made their way inside your family home.

First it was Carmen and George, with Alex and Lily, with a gorgeous bouquet of lilies for you, and carrying a large Zara kids bag with multiple cashmere onesies and clothes that would probably last a couple of weeks since, as Charles read on his book, babies grow up "very fast". Charles got a pat on the back.

Then followed Fred, with a huge basquet for both you and Charles, courtesy of the entire Ferrari team, and lots of small Ferrari merchandise.

Fred wasn't even out the door when Carlos and Isa quietly made their way inside, now with a bouquet of pink roses and a gorgeous and timeless Louis Vuitton baby blanket. Again, Charles received a pat on the back from Carlos as you carefully placed your daughter on Isa’s arms.

Charles had the biggest dark circles you’d ever seen under his eyes, and you probably looked worse, dealing with the recovery of your own body after giving birth. Right when you thought you could take a nap, Max, Lando, Kelly and Penelope arrived.

Of course they tried to make a statement, with multiple balloons, Gucci and Burberry bags for the baby. Of course Max was a natural holding her, cautiously kneeling for Penelope to see her. Lando nervously laughed and the only thing he was able to say was "she's so tiny", telling you he'd hold her when she was a little bigger.

It was almost 3 PM when Charles forced you to lay down, reminding you of the stages of healing after giving birth as he read in the book. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, waking up every ten minutes because, apparently, mother instincts didn't take very long to kick in. That's why you immediately woke up when you heard low voices, quickly recognizing the voices of your in-laws. Carefully getting up and trying to look presentable, you walked towards the nursery.

No one noticed you, both Arthur and Lorenzo enthralled by their niece while Pascale held her, whispering sweet nothings in French as her granddaughter placed her tiny hand around Pascale's thumb.

Then, Charles demeanor changed.

You could see it as soon as Pascale placed the baby in Arthur's arms. His back tensed and he stood straighter, instantly moving closer towards his younger brother.

"Arthur, you have to hold her head," Charles told off his brother, carefully placing Arthur's hand on the baby's head.

He still was standing closely and worried, hand on his chin while staring at his brother. "No, Arthur don't move your arm like that," Again, he fixed his brother's arm. "No, Arthur fix your stance, you need to hold her still," His breathing was getting faster and then he couldn't take it anymore.

Arthur was perfectly holding her, but Charles simply couldn't bare with the fact of his brother making a microscopic wrong move and something happening to his daughter, his mignonne, é carina.

"No, give her to me, you're doing everything wrong." Charles carefully took his daughter off Arthur's arms.

Ignoring Arthur's shocked face and Pascale's amused expression, everyone noticed how the baby nuzzled in her papa's arms, instantly yawning and moving her hands as if she was trying to reach him; Charles instantly relaxed, feeling her against his chest and knowing she was okay because she was with him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I think he's kind of overprotective," You said entering the room. Pascale immediately approached you, asking how you were feeling and how much pain you were in.

"Poor her, honestly. She's doomed to have Charles as her shadow forever, she won't be able to go to school or anything!" Lorenzo chimed in, making everyone laugh, except for Charles of course.

"You haven't told us her name! We've been calling her mini (Y/N)," Arthur asked, admiring his niece from afar.

The only reason Charles lifted his gaze was to find your eyes, which you took as the cue to take your place next to your family, resting your head on Charles' shoulder.

"Josephine. We are still thinking about the second, we're seeing if Jules fits," You announced, Charles giving a bright smile to his family.

"I'm thinking of Josephine Sofia Jules Gia Leclerc," Charles said. Everyone in the room looked at each other with curiosity.

"She is not having four names, Charles!" The answer came quickly from you, the tone revealing this wasn't the first time it was discussed.

"Okay then, three?"

Josephine, that's what's clear.

#charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc #dad!charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic

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reiding-writing · 4 months

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Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable! I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it's a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it's one of his favorite authors or smth? sry for the long request I was trying to be specific Imao

swinging [s.r]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i am reuploading this once and once only so if it doesn’t upload to the tags again then i am giving up-

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

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yandere-kokeshi · 4 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day

I'm just wondering if you can make a yandere ghost or price with a s/o who has a other boyfriend fic?

Thanks<3

(if you don't have time for this, it's okay)

— Such Waste

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, suggested age gap, swearing, talks about reader who grew up in an abusive family; current-bf is abusive/has an unhealthy relationship; reader is slightly naive, violence, and detailed blood..

A/N: this one was pretty hard for me to finish so sorry if it's dull or simply not well; I'm not very happy with it lmao. Enjoy! :]

Inserting the key into the door with a small click!, and opening it to your usually, scattered apartment, you sighed — heavily.

Today was grueling. Not only was your work office incredibly demanding, but it was possibly draining what was left of your very soul. Your bones and stiff muscles were hurting. Begging for you to get more sleep than having 2 – 4 hours of naps every day.

You took off your shoes by the front door and put your belongings on the table; re-footing your steps backwards, to put your keys on the bookshelf for remembrance. Though, you were rudely interrupted as your phone buzzed multiple times, and you let out yet another sigh.

In your bones, you had a feeling — an immediate feeling of who it was.

Grabbing your phone in the back pocket, you whisked it out and typed in your passcode before seeing multiple, if not, tons of missed calls and text messages from your current boyfriend.

Liam: Are you srsly ignoring me? It was a joke. — sent at 8:23 pm

Liam: baby, come on. You passed your break. Just answer me. — sent at 8:57 pm

Liam: answer the fucking phone! Are you dumb? Pick up the phone!!!! — sent at 9:21 pm

Liam: if you don’t answer, it's over. — sent at 11:48

You rolled your eyes, feeling anger rise in you again. You chose to send a small message. Who would’ve thought the blue-eyed, blond hair and a tooth gap combo of a man would be the best fit? Not you, apparently.

You: Got caught up with work. Sorry, we can talk more about this tomorrow. I’m gonna head to bed. Night. — sent at 12:19 pm

While Liam was a nice guy, he was slightly controlling and immature. Always wanted to know who or where you were, why you were hanging out with people he didn’t know, and if you loved getting unwanted attention. Sometimes, fights got so bad that your elderly neighbors had to call the police to separate the two of you for a few nights.

Poor Lucy. Wonder how she still deals with you being next door.

Groaning, you put your phone back into your back pocket, before your hands rubbing over your face in exhaustion.

Not only was your boss extremely cranky and rude today, but everyone was on edge due to his behavior. You couldn’t even talk to your coworkers without them using the excuse of ‘I have to leave’ whenever he steps foot into the room. Plus, the stress of bills, your current boyfriend, and the harassment was getting to your breaking point.

God, you hated this job. But it paid your bills. That’s all you cared about, right?

You scoffed, feeling your back prick and pop in places that sounded like it shouldn’t. Looking at the fridge in your kitchen, you slumped over and walked over to it, talking to yourself as you opened it, reaching down for the leftover pizza box that you didn’t get to finish last night.

Barely eating a few pieces, you were already heading down the hallway to your bedroom, peeling off your sweaty work clothes. However, something stopped you in the tracks that made your heart jump right out of your chest and into your mouth.

Roses. Roses were on your bed. Sure, it was beautiful. The lilac, reddening color shining in your room was gorgeous.

But who put them there?

You stared at them. Who the hell was in your apartment? Was it maintenance? Maybe a surprise gift they gave out for people living here in the poor-run down apartments?

No. It couldn’t be. Rarely do they ever give you things — especially flowers. What and who the fuck?

“Do you not like them?”

You jumped at the sudden rough voice, dropping your pizza on the floor and whipping around, seeing a giant man sitting in your favorite chair in the corner of your bedroom; wearing a thick, menacing skull balaclava, piercing your skin like a knife.

“Who… the fuck are you!” you shouted. Your feet stepped back, watching him as he repositioned himself — his elbows now resting on the armrests of the chair, and leaning forward into the obvious comfy chair. You couldn’t help but judge the guy. Who wears a skull mask other than on Halloween? Was he a killer? Going to slice you—!

“I would think you’d know that with the stuff I gave you.”

A chill ran down your spine. So was this — no, this was the guy.

The man who left your favorite chocolate on your window seal each morning, the sweet notes of compliments, sometimes bearing suggestions on things you should wear that day. And the huge bouquet on the front door, which was soon transported to your dinner-table, that was left every Friday.

Oh, my g-d.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, finally looking at his outfit, seeing the Britain flag sewed on his Khaki pants. It’s military. What the fuck did you do? “Did I break the law?” you hushed out, terrified at the man.

However, the man in front of you snickered. “Doubt you’d have the guts to break the law, sweetheart.”

“I– what?” you looked at him dumbfounded. Who the fuck was this guy?

“Ya’ heard me, only have a speeding ticket,” he remarked, making you dart your eyes toward behind you to the hallway, seeing the front door before back at him. “Pretty impressive for your age, if ya’ ask me.”

Your brain short-circuited. “How… do you know that?” you posed, feeling your breathing quicken. “I have so many questions,” you added. But yet, the man stared at you with his darkening eyes. Didn’t help that your room was dimmed. You really should’ve fixed that light.

He stared at you before speaking up. “Bet ya’ do. I’m all answering them as long as you get rid of that cunt of a boyfriend.”

“E… ‘cuse me?” you stammered, taking another step back. But, your anger got ahead of you; your eyebrows knitted against each other. “I can assure you that he treats me well.”

Though, the man just scoffed and stood up as your throat closed at the sight of the man. Why the fuck was he so tall? “Sure. Keep imagining that sick fantasy image of yours, and you’ll wake up in the hospital with a broken nose.”

You wanted to defend yourself. But he was right. Breaking your index finger hurts like a bitch. The frequent fights were exhausting. The last time you tried talking with Liam about visiting a close friend an hour away ended up with his hand reaching out towards your wrist, twisting it with a large sprain and a large hospital bill.

The yelling. The self-blame. The hours of constant harassment with texts and calls. The horrible smell of booze. You really fucked up your love life, didn’t you?

“But,” he started, a thick accent voicing in as he stepped closer into your direction. “I can treat you better, love. Someone who won’t hurt ya. Treat you like the doll you are.”

You narrow your eyes at him, nervously biting at the inside of your cheeks as you wait for him to continue.

“I’ll make sure to treat you well. Something you haven’t been lucky to feel. Your parents were mean towards you, no?” he asked questionably, and it made your heart drop to your stomach. “But, I can take care of you; better than anyone has.”

So many questions raced through your mind as your eyes darted at the floor then back toward the man. Like a rabbit, you stiffened. Confused. Body shaking as the predator approached.

“I don’t… even know who you are,” you replied, tightening your hand into a fist. Your heart was speeding, hands and legs shaking with fear. Your throat stiffened. He could clearly see it — and yet somehow, his eyes got softer; those brown pupils having a sad and apologetic look. Almost like a dog trying to comfort you.

You don’t know you’re crying until you feel a gloved thumb wipe them away, causing you to flinch. Realizing that the man was now in front of you, you tried to step back, but your ankle hit the bedroom wall, securing you in a close habitat.

But, with everything going on, you didn’t have the energy to push him away nor look up at him. Continuing to look at the floor as your mind circled around on whom the fuck was this man?

“Look at me, will ya’?”

You hesitated. Didn’t reply. But as he said your name, a shiver traveled down your spine, and you looked at him – his predominant features coming in. Even with your anxiety and fear swirling in your stomach, you looked at the creases in his eyebrows, the clashing scars near his temple, eyes, and brows. His jarring eyes surrounded by black eyeshadow, seemingly gentler, almost like they were trying to welcome you into a trap.

You stare up at him with half-lidded eyes. And with a gasp, you felt his hand take your chin, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turn your head right into the direction he wanted you to: staring at him in the eyes.

“I promise. I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures, though, it doesn’t help as more tears drowned down on your behalf.

And yet, you couldn’t fathom his words.

“I don’t–” you started, taking a deep and sharp inhale, “–trust you, I don’t even know your name. How can I know you’re… not some, serial killer?” your question was weak. And stupid. But it was the only thing you could think of out of the bluster.

His eyes narrowed at your reply before answering at your ‘plea’.

“I suppose that’s a start,” he huffs.

You looked at his eyes, before narrowing down at the mask. And clearly, by your eyes and non-answer, he nodded at your invisible ask.

Stepping back, the man’s hands traveled to lift the mask upwards. He revealed the point of his chin, the skin equally rough, like his demeanor.

He didn’t stop from continuing, exposing more of his lower lip. The skin there was rugged and scarred, little creases in the flesh. Scars that made your heart thud awkwardly. At his cupid’s bow, where you saw a huge scar, it made you gasp quietly out of wincing. The thick mark going upward on his left lip, so callused and rough. It looks like it still hurts.

Finally, he pulled the mask fully off, revealing his natural-resting face, thick eyebrows, and the two large scars right above his filled brows. It helped a bit that he revealed himself, but you were still unsure how to… understand the situation.

He said your name, and it made you look at him. “Rest your worries when you’re by me, yeah?”

Those words fell into your stomach and twisted like a towel being squeezed. Though, somehow, in a way, you felt safer. A hesitant silence settles between you both, before you decide to speak up.

“Y–ou won’t hurt me?”

Those stunning brown eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching something deeper in your meaning. Instead, all you could muster was eye contact that kept flickering to the floor and trying to calm your quickened breathing.

“What kind of man would I be if I did that, hm?” his voice is airy, tone-flimsy when asking his question.

You swallowed thickly, “I want to know your name.”

“You do know my name, sweetheart,’” he coldly corrected you, “—use that smart brain of yours.”

Seconds blurred by you, trying to think – imagine what could or would be his name. But nothing came up. Nothing came to your brain, which, the man in front of you, hummed in acknowledgment at the state of your confused state.

“Shame you don’t remember,” he started, a smirk curling on his face. “It’s Simon.”

Memories you didn’t know at the time came forward.

Many things are given by that name — your favorite fast food being delivered to your home after a bad day, bouquets in expensive vases being delivered every week; cards given with clothes and money. And somehow, your insurance was now covering things they didn’t.

Oh, and let’s not forget about the lingerie being sent. A note of: I hope to see you wear this tonight. Signed with initials: SR.

At first, you thought it was Liam – but he was a cheapskate. Never liked spending money, especially on you.

Your eyes widened, a bubble trapping itself in your throat — it was him. Police didn’t help, saying something along the lines of, ‘until they hurt you, we can’t do anything’. But when did they ever help?

“So… what do you want, then?” you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. You can see the gold-brown of his eyes clearly, the halo of honey flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and… oddly feminine.

“You.”

And just as he rasped that word, the banging on your front door started. The familiar yelling of Liam drowned out your thoughts, and his screaming made the two of you snap your head in the direction of the front door.

He yelled out your name, and you flinched. Already feeling the bruising grabs, the constant screaming where your ears ring for hours. Oh god, what the hell did you do?

“You– need to leave,” you ushered out, hands and legs shaking for the splinting images that shot through your head.

He was banging on the door, jamming his fists; the handle being shaken so hard that it rattled stuck. It was all too much.

Simon said your name, but you shook your head. Denying his existence. Danger was near, nobody would help save you. He needs to leave, he needs to leave, heneedstoleave—!

He grunted your name louder, and you looked at him with teary eyes; the small rivers turning into full tsunami’s. You couldn’t think. Breathe. He was here. Going to hurt you. He was going to die. So were you.

The door broke, the familiar thundering footsteps shook from across the house. And before you could react, Simon pushed you behind him — shielding you away from your abuser.

“You—!” Liam screamed into the bedroom, a bottle of beer in one hand and his other clenched into a fist; his blue eyes burning into your stomach. You choked out a sob as he stepped further, but stopped at the sight of Simon. For once, Liam looked retched at his own thoughts.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yelled, and the man only narrowed his eyes at Liam; challenging him with his height and quiet demeanor.

“Get the fuck out.” his rough and dark voice sent shivers down your neck, making every hair stand up.

Liam scoffed, a plethora of curses voiced out, before he shut up. Your eyes narrowed, and as you looked at his shocked face, you saw a gun in view next — Simon’s finger gripping the trigger, aiming it at Liam’s head.

Your heart leapt out. Fight or flight mode flicking on.

“Come on, man– we, we’re playing. Right—?” he chuckled out, and Simon grunted.

In the dimmed room, you can see his high cheekbones and the absolute rage that is evident on his face, even hiding behind his mask. His hands are clenched around the gun tightly, finger curling even tighter around the trigger.

“I’m not going to ask again; leave the fucking apartment.”

Liam falsely chuckled, “O-or what? You’ll shoot me? Doubt you have the balls, my… guy.”

Within seconds, the gun went off — making you scream, closing your eyes, and covering your ears. Your fingernails scraped at your ears, making them ring. It hurt, not a single thought. Oh god, what the fuck happened?

“—uck!” was all you could muster before you knelt to the ground, wrapping arms around yourself; teeth clenching down your lips as you felt— tasted blood.

After a few minutes – or seconds – you open them up and find Liam, leaning on the wall for support, bleeding through his arm. There was so much– on the floor, on his hands. His eyes were widened, looking at the man in front of you; anger yet fear rising.

He started hiccuping — more blood dripping down to the floor as he clenched his nearly wound.

“Don’t ever let me see you again.”

Simon’s rough voice of threatening sent shivers down your body. Your breath hitched. Your body starts to shake as your eyes widen. Simon’s threat was enough for Liam to nod instantly, giving you one look before running out; not giving you a second look as it may not leave tonight with his face intact.

You were about to say something, but the man cleared his throat and looked down at your shaking form. “Ya’ okay?”

You looked up at him, slowly nodding. In return, he said nothing, making you feel his eyes take in every detail of you. To your face and pupils, to your shaking legs and ragged breath. Yet, having never meeting you before, he gladly handed over his hand down to you.

Looking up at his scarred hand, you hesitantly looked at it — large fingers, nails scratched and clear hangnails. You didn’t know what to do, other than grab it and strand up with his help.

“Get your things.”

Your eyes narrowed, breath heaving. “Why?”

He looked at you, brown pupils dilated. They were so feminine– pretty. His breath hitched, and a large hand grasped your shoulder.

“Cause’ you’re gona’ be coming with me, forever.”

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, stay well!!

599 notes · View notes

salaciousdoll · 2 years

Text

"I Want That Hoe, She A Freak Hoe"

♡ ྀ =͟͟͞♡ The Gang Wants To Fuck Shion’s Slut of a girlfriend

Pairings ♡ ྀ =͟͟͞♡ : Kantou Manji Gang x Bimbo! Fem reader

Warnings ♡ ྀ =͟͟͞♡: Smut, exhibition, voyeurism, gangbang, spitting in mouth and other areas, chubby reader hints, doggy style, mating press, fucking in vehicles and other places, alternative Timeskip where kmg is two years in, unprotected and protected sex involved, cheater reader, double penetration, tit job, rough fucking, passionate fucking, breeding, small daddy kink on Koko’s part, Shion is a himbo to your Bimbo,overall nasty shit really

Word Count ♡ ྀ =͟͟͞♡: 3.0k

18+ Allowed

( so mad I can’t put my taglist opportunity no more so if you want to join to say it and it’s my first HC too so heads up!)

jjK Version Aot Version

⋆.ೃ࿔* Shion: Before the meeting, on the table

“ Is it- Mmgh fuck- okay to be doing this in here? Shion we could get caught.”, You moaned as you held him around the neck tightly while rocking your hips back and forth. His long pale fingers were digging into the plush of your ass under the fabric of your skirt you gladly wore for him, he hissed when you squeezed around his cock, “ Yeah, baby, I promise. It’s only you and me here at the headquarters to-aah do that againnn- day.”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence because you were bouncing your ass up and down while sucking on his long tattooed neck. You spoke too soon when someone clears their throat, “ Gotta say Shion, I always knew she was gorgeous, why don’t you share her with me? With us? Hmm.”

You froze but it didn’t last for long because of shion twirling his hips while digging into you like a caveman who haven’t had pussy in forever. His moans were louder now and you knew he was close so you milked him in the best way possible. You couldn’t stop fucking him as you yanked on his mullet. You didn’t care who was watching and who heard you.

⋆.ೃ࿔* Ran and Wakasa: In Wakasa’s studio

Wakasa was the first person who was willing to fuck you. Shion never said it was okay but he knew you couldn’t resist him as he was digging into your pussy while his arms hooked around your neck, “ Augh! Shit, this pussy is heaven, see why he didn’t want to share.” Ran wasn’t supposed to stumble upon you two but he had to be the one to give Wakasa info about the new business they’re heading into. When he did, he couldn’t resist fucking your mouth. That was the second thing he admired if your eyes weren’t included as the first, “ The fact that you probably kiss him on the lips is enough to make me cum inside of your wet mouth, leave an impression while you’re making out with him, yeah?”

Wakasa felt every bump of Ran’s cock inside of your throat as he choked you while fucking you from behind. He missed the feeling of pussy, haven’t had any in three days, so when you sucked him in with your walls, he couldn’t help but to stagger in his movement a bit. The little shakes and pumping of his cock inside you tells you everything you need to know. He was about to cum for sure. You made them weak and they wanted to make you weaker so they fucked into you even harder. You screams were muffled by Ran’s cock but their groans and whimpers were not. They had to take you away from him and either keep you for themselves or possibly share even if they didn’t like each other like that.

Ran heard the gulps, gags, and globs of spit lathering up his dick and couldn’t take the feeling of your mouth around him. Waka and Ran was an unexpected duo but both pairs of Lilac eyes were on you as they thrusted three or four times before yelling out your name while cumming inside the condom Waka had on and your mouth. Pants and exhaustion could be heard around the room before a quiet, “ let’s do it again” could be heard

⋆.ೃ࿔* Sanzu: In the HQ Garage

“ Sanzu please don’t make us, Uumph, fall.”, You moaned as Sanzu pulled your body towards him while his knees were denting the roof of the car he has no use for since he got a new one. You two were in the kantou Manji headquarters garage all because he wanted to show you his new car, only to fuck you on the roof of his old black car.

Sanzu choked out a moan as he lifted your ass to grab tightly into his hands. Your plump ass was in between his fingers as he fucked into you. His cock was reaching places you never thought were there. It was breathtaking even if you fucked waka and ran just two days ago. Sanzu’s cock dragged along your gummy walls in desperation and he loved every second of it, “ Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tightly, and don’t worry, I got you baby doll.”

You were trying to be quiet as he started pounding you into the roof of the car. The mating position was going so well that you were forgetting who your boyfriend is. You couldn’t help it the way Sanzu’s big balls slapped against the opening of your ass. His breath was ragged and you were panting and covering your mouth from trying not to scream.

Your orgasm hit like a tsunami causing your body to shake while your legs wrapped tightly around Sanzu’s waist. You were pretty sure that the car roof had a huge dent in it but when you looked out the side of your eyes at Sanzu, you figured he wouldn’t care. He was going to make you his because the way your pussy clamped down on him was enough to send him into a spiral and made him dumb enough to not realize he came inside of your pussy. He was pussy drunk and you could tell because of his eyes rolling back to his head in pure bliss as he came.

⋆.ೃ࿔* Koko and Hanma: In your room

This only happened because you wanted to be the Bimbo slut you were always meant to be. You only invited Koko over, but Hanma came too and now you are stuck in between them as they pounded inside of you with faint breaths over your lips and the nape of your neck. Your long nails raked down Hanma’s back as he pounded into you from the front while Koko was pounding your prepped ass from below you.

Your facial expressions were turning Hanma on even more because, God! , were you the prettiest girl he ever seen. Shion was fucking lucky to have a woman like you but were you lucky to have someone like shion?, “ Oh come on, butterfly, you can’t make me cum, we just got started so stop clenching me so hard, yeah?” Koko was whimpering into your back because he was at a loss of words. He has wanted you ever since Shion introduced you after two weeks of starting KMG. It’s now two years later and Koko wanted you for himself, just thinking about it made him thrust inside of your sloppy, puckering ass, “ S-shit, baby, I’m about to cum, you want me to cum deep inside this slutty ass hmm?”

You nodded as a strangled moan erupted from you while the sound of skin clapping and bed bbanging against the wall creating little cracks were heard, “ Mmhmm, fuck come inside of my ass, daddy. I want it so bad.” Hanma chuckled before holding his ‘punishment’ hand on the back of your head forcing your forehead on his while his ‘sin’ tattooed hand reached down to play with your clit, adding on to your upcoming orgasm. All three of your bodies shook as the three of you orgasmed at the same time. Hanma couldn’t help but to shut out your moans with a hungry kiss on your mouth while Koko bit into your back to suppress his moans, they both wanted to cum inside of you, but only one got the chance.

⋆.ೃ࿔* Kakucho: In your closet

Shion was in the bathroom down the hall showering. He still has no clue that you’ve been fucking his crew and you were glad. Although part of the reason is because he’s a Himbo to your Bimbo but you were a little bit smarter than him. The proof was in the pudding when Kakucho was now sliding your panties off with his teeth from behind as you sundress was hiked above your hips/ love handles, “ Fuck, are you sure he isn’t gonna come out the bathroom.” You nodded as you looked at him through the mirror on your closet door.

You were glad, shion put some money on you knocking down your walls to have a big walk in closet because man was that a blessing especially for shit like this, “ Yeah, he usually don’t, mmph, come in here to get dressed and plus he spends about an hour in the bathroom because of him taking care of his hair, oh that feels so good.” Kakucho smirked because he was only peppering you with wet kisses all around your legs and even your lower back. He then chuckled before standing up only to position you to look at the mirror while bending over, “ good because your pussy is fucking soaking and I need to be inside of it because from what the guys tell me, I’m sure to be satisfied by the end right?”

You smirked at him through the big mirror, only to stop when you heard his pants drop and felt his cock slap your inner thigh. You couldn’t even get words out as you were stunned due to the three taps of his fat head landing on the opening of your slit. When he pushed inside of you after reassuring you that he’s going to be careful, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was the biggest and thickest so far and you didn’t think you could handle it. You were glad shion just had length compared to this monster of a cock inside of you.

Kakucho's deep throaty moan interrupted your thoughts, “ Oh! Yeah! This pussy is crying for me. F- F-Fuck.” The way he held your hips/love handles was enough to make you purr in excitement. He was so gentle when holding you but fucked and looked like a Greek god. Kakucho thrusted inside of you at a slow pace before lifting you up a little by your neck, “ Keep your eyes locked on mine as I fuck you like you should’ve been fucked by the man who occupy the bathroom down the hall, it’s obvious he’s not satisfying you because otherwise you wouldn’t be slutting yourself out to the men in the gang, yeah?” You were about to deny but his hips met your ass creating nonstop ripples as he fucked into you faster than before.

You tried to keep focus on his heterochromia eyes as he fucked your pussy like a brute, “ K-Kakucho I don’t think I could hold on, nngh! It hurts but feels so good.” He smirked because he knew he was making you feel good so he cooked up his pace not even carin gif shion catches you two since the room was filled with slaps, moans, and groans. “ Come on, pretty girl, don’t hold out on me, make me cum like you did the others and I want to hear it. Loud and clear. I want to feel you shake and fight to get away from me as I fuck you through your orgasm, let me fuck you like your mine, what do you say, hmm?”

⋆.ೃ࿔* Mochi and Benkei: in the hideout

The sound of your gags on Benkei's cock and hand stroking Mochi’s cock were heard throughout the empty area you three were occupied in. You accepted that you were a slut and couldn’t stop fucking everyone. This was now two different people and four days from when Kakucho fucked you into overstimulation. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a soft slap on your cheek from one hand and the second hand gripping your hair, “ Suck me right, y/n, I know you can do it so why are you playing on my dick right now?”

You laughed and that just pissed him off more so he decided to get you even more messy by taking his cock out off your tongue since you needed space to laugh and rubbed his dick all over your face, “ Now who’s laughing, slut. Suck me in with those glossy puckered lips will ya?” Benkei was one impatient fucker but you somehow admired it because it looked good on him meanwhile Mochi was shuddering at the feeling of your hands stroking him up and down, “ Shit, she’s good at what she does, so cut her some slack old fuck.” Benkei wanted to punch Mochi when he called him old but stopped when he felt your mouth taking his dick down your throat like a popsicle on a hot summer evening, “ Fuck! Yeah just like that, I want to fuck your mouth, fuck it, I’m gonna fuck your mouth like a pocket pussy now, are you ready?” You nodded through your long eyelashes as you had his dick inside of your mouth.

Benkei took off his jacket after you took his dick out of your mouth to wrap your lips around Mochi’s tip, sucking on him, making him cum inside of your mouth immediately. His moans and deep groans were so sexy to your ears and his cum tasted like salt but it was good inside of your mouth. You only knew he was close due to the redness of his round thick tip. You sucked him in even more before releasing him out of your mouth, kissing the tip of his cock afterwards with a wink to top it off. Mochi flushed a shade of red because you were just so beautiful on your knees, he just had to get you to open up your mouth by raising his Sharp eyebrows and tapping your cheek just to spit inside of your mouth.

Benkei snatched you by your hair and you gladly opened your mouth with your tongue out. He took that as an opportunity to lodge his long cock in your throat creating throat bulges as he fucked into your throat while you now was getting fingered by Mochi after he removed your own fingers. His happy trail was the only thing you could see and that excited you even more considering that it was trimmed down too. You were on cloud nine and they were, too. None of you saw the shadow in the corner watching you all, neither did y’all care.

⋆.ೃ࿔* Mikey: On his motorcycle

You and Mikey enever supposed to end up like this considering that you were scared to talk or even look at him. His eyes had a forbidden glint that made you freeze up every time you looked at him.

You were outside having a blunt to yourself thinking about how to break things off with Shion. You were only brought out of your thoughts when Mikey started up his bike in front of the hq garage. You gotta admit that he looked good as a 20 year old that’s successful as hell in the illegal business you wanted no part in. Shion told you about the war that caused him to be on the dark side and honestly you thought he just needed a good lay and somebody to vent to. Your eyes were fixated on him that you didn’t even realize you were walking to him. It was like you’re in a trance, “ Nice bike you got there.”

Mikey never heard you talk to him and he froze before turning to you with the dead look you feared, “ Thank you, wanna hop on?” To say you were surprised at the offer was an understatement but what was a bigger understatement was moving your hips back and forth with his thick, slightly curved cock inside of you. Mikey gripped your hips in want and need as you rode him with the vibrations of his motorcycle underneath you both. You both didn’t care that you were fucking in public or if shion would see.

“ Fuck Princess, you feel irreplaceable, ugh! I wanna make you mine so bad. Your fucking pouted lips, short skirts, dresses, and tight fitted suits always trigger me to fuck my fist thinking about you.”, Mikey moans as he holds your body close to him before he starts digging into you faster. You were surprised that somebody as little as him was able to move underneath you but nevertheless your moans were hidden inside of his neck while your nails raked down his shoulders and back. You two were enjoying each other more than you should have and didn't realize you two were cumming until your bodies shook against each other as your moans were beginning to muffle because you were too busy sloppy kissing each other

Mikey was glad that he managed to fuck somebody like you because he was never letting you go and he’ll gladly kill Shion if he ever think about taking you away from him. You were apart of him now since you let cum inside of your sweet pussy.

⋆.ೃ࿔* All of them: On the bed

When you wanted to break up with Shion because you broke promises, he wouldn’t let you. He wanted you to be his and if that meant sharing you with his gang so be it. You didn’t want to hurt him even more but he insisted because now he was pounding inside of your cunt while Sanzu was pounding into your ass. You couldn’t even moan because Wakasa was fucking into your mouth as your hands were getting fucked into by Rindou and Ran’s cocks.

“ Fuck, your pussy is swallowing my dick up baby, my girl felt good huh?”, Shion moans as he digs into your pussy. His dick was gliding along your walls like it belonged there, this is the best he ever fucked and you knew it was because he had competition now.

Moans and groans were heard around the room and the encourages of yes and slaps on the back by his peers was enough for him to fuck you like the mad dog he’s labeled as. Mochi couldn’t take anymore and fucked his hand to your moans and screams. He couldn’t wait to be inside you just like Mikey who was pushing your tiddies together to fuck them with his spit coaxed as lube.

“ Shit, this bitch is a fucking saint, Pussy like this, I wouldn’t let go either.” You couldn’t tell who said it but you had a few guesses considering the bass in his voice as he said it.

Your body went through trauma and overstimulation. The amount of cum you ingested and took inside of your body was enough to make you pass out. You felt so full and disgusting but it felt so good. You were still humiliated when you heard men laughing around the room. You were their whore now and it was indefinitely.

Taglist : @dejwrites @simpingforwakasa04 @happygoluckyalexis @nalyana @bontens-angel @bontensbabygirl @cryingchild83 @yooniluvbot444 @forwardpair @celi-xxmoon @cloudnitee @Marley @ushijimasslut @Little_nightowl

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hibiscuswrites · 2 months

Note

Hey could you do one of the body insecurity hcs for Spooky like for how you did the Seed Brothers?

I haven't written for this man in 86 years and BOY

He ain't putting up with that

He thinks you're gorgeous

Breathtaking

Stunning

He gets aroused just thinking about you sometimes

He understands that everyone has insecurities and things that they may not like about their bodies

But he loves your body

And one of the only ways he can think to change your mind is to take a more possessive yet silly stance on it when he hears you complain

"......Who are you talkin' about like that?"

And you just look at him confused, motioning to the mirror

"Nah, nobody is gonna talk about my girl like that."

He comes behind you, hands on your hips as he squeezes

"Ain't nobody gonna talk shit about these hips right here."

His hands gliding forward to run over the tummy that he loves to hold and kiss and rest on

"Shit talking my beautiful girl like that. You must've lost your fuckin mind."

And it's so weird and yet endearing that it makes you laugh and settle back into him with a smile as he holds you

"You're crazy you know that?"

And his shrug is careless as he rests his chin on your shoulder an makes eye contact with you through the mirror

"Gotta defend my baby, right?"

Spooky Diaz taglist

@lillict @smoooore @browngirldominion @namjoonwatcheshentai @sesamepancakes @nintendhoe8 @myaloveee @laylasbunbunny

General taglist

@titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

#headcannons #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #on my block #spooky x reader

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tumblerlove · 3 months

Text

Rafe pampering you and getting you lingerie

Rafe has been seeing how hard you've been working lately at your job at the bookstore. Then you come home cook and clean. Even though Rafe tries to help you out, you still mainly want to do it. You don't even need to do those things he's told you before he'd do it himself or hire people. But no, you tell him... you have a specific way to do things.

He decided that tonight, though, that you'll be relaxed completely, no cleaning, cooking nothing like that. He gets food cooked at the house and makes sure he cleans the house just how you like it. Then he goes out and buys you a little something that he thinks you definitely deserve for being such a good girl.

When you get off work, all you want to do is eat, cuddle with Rafe, and read a little. "Rafe, are you home?" you call out as you take your shoes off. Sometimes you get home before him, others times he does. "I'm in the dining room, honey," you hear him

You can smell food as you walk closer and closer to the room. Once you walk in, you're shocked. "What...what is this all for Rafe?" You're saying with a smile as you take in the scene before you.

The lights are dimmed with a few candles, making the room look cozy. The table has all your favorite foods, including drinks and desserts. You also see your favorite flowers at the table.

"You've been working so hard lately... and I thought that you deserved this," he says while taking your hand to have you sit at the table

It's not like Rafe doesn't spoil you or treat you to things...he does a lot actually...it's just this caught you off guard, and you're smiling throughout dinner thinking about that he did this for you

After you both eat your fill and talk about everything and anything. He comes around the table with something wrapped for you. "What's this?" You look up at him as he strokes your hair. "I don't know. You'll have to open it and see"

You dive right into ripping it up. Rafes laughing, seeing you so enthusiastic about opening it. Your eyes sparkle as you hold up the garment. "You did not, Rafe," you say, looking at him. He smirks at you. "But I did baby...you deserve it"

He got you a Lilac colored babydoll lingerie set. The cups were lacey, but they still would lift your boobs a bit. The body was flowy and see through letting him see your curves and plush tummy. The underwear was a thong that was lacey, too.

"This is gorgeous, Honey," you say, standing up to give him a kiss and a hug. "You like it?" he says with a little apprehension. "Yes, yes, I love it!" You jump up and down a little from being so happy. It really was beautiful.

"Why don't we go upstairs?...you go and try it on and I'll take care of you" he's telling you between kisses....your squeezing your thighs together getting excited "You've been a good girl lately and I wanna treat you...your in for a night" he keeps saying

You grab his hand him trailing behind you as you go up the stairs into your guy's room. "I'm gonna go try it on," you say, holding the lingerie up

As Rafe goes to sit on the bed, he takes his shirt, needing to get a little cool. He's been hard since seeing you get home imagining you in the set.

The set was gorgeous on you in the mirror. It fit you like a glove and made your tits look great and showed off your curves, too. You fix your hair a little before walking out to see Rafe sitting on the bed staring straight at the door as you open it.

"Oh fuck sweetheart" he's groaning out eyeing you from head to toe. "This...your...you look fucking gorgeous" he finally gets the words out as you walk towards to him

He stands up once you're close to him, instantly cupping your jaw and kissing you. "Fuck" Rafe keeps moaning out whenever he breaks apart from kissing you.

"You look so good, baby...such a good girl for me always," Rafe is telling you as he walks you backward towards the bed to have you sit down

You can feel yourself starting to get wet...he kneels down on the carpet before you and starts kissing your legs, working his way up to your core

"I'm keeping these panties on you while I eat you out" he says while rubbing your slit up and down over your panties

"Mmm...Rafe, that feels nice... I want more, please," you whine to him. "You've been such a good girl for me love, I'm giving you whatever you want, love," Rafes tells you while moving your panties to the side, seeing your start to drip from your cunt

"I can never get tired at looking at your pussy" Rafe says before diving into you and licking you from your entrance up to your clit.

"Oh shit Rafe" you call out as you reach to grab his hair as he keeps devouring you. Taking your slick from your hole to use over your clit. He takes your clit between his lips and goes back and fourth from sucking on it to licking it. "You taste good baby" he hums into your cunt. The vibrations from him talking feel so good.

His large hands are pinning your thighs to the bed, making sure you can't go anywhere he doesn't want you to. Rafe starts to tease your hole with his index finger. "Ah Rafe please...please"

With hearing your cries, he pushes his finger in curving up to find your g-spot. "Shit... shit," you cry out while rocking your hips back and forth against Rafes face.

"Cum on my face love" Rafe mumbles against your cunt. The vibrations sending you to your orgasm. You feel your entire body start to relax more as you let Rafes' hair go and lay completely back on the bed

"What a good girl you are, love." Rafe coos as he watches you while he stands up to hover over you and kiss you

Your mind is starting to feel light. Along with your body. You haven't been this relaxed in a minute it feels so nice

"It's your night, love. What else do you want?" Rafe asks you while pulling down your bra cup to lick you nipples "Oh...I want you, Rafe," you whine out. "Gotta be a little more specific than that love," he teases you while switching to the other nipple

"Mmm...your...your cock I want it" you cry to him your body needs him so bad your dripping down your thighs and Rafes chin is clearly coated in your slick. You watch as he takes off his pants and boxers in one go. Rafes completely naked while you still have the lingerie set on. With your panties pulled to the side and bra cups down showing your tits.

"How should I fuck you mmm...looking at that gorgeous face or seeing this ass" he says while starting to stroke his cock spreading the pre-cum all over

"I...I don't care Rafe, I just need you." You're pulling at his shoulders to get him closer to you and kiss him. All you can think about is Rafes cock. You want him inside of you filling you up and cumming inside your cunt

Rafe teases your clit with the tip of his dick making both of you moan out at the feeling. He's teasing you taking his cock up and down almost going inside you then going up to your clit again

Your minds gone fuzzy at this point all you can do is plead "Rafe please just fuck me"...he looks at you with such a loving smile "It's a good thing good girls get what they want then isn't it" he says while pushing his cock into you finally

"Ohh... finally," you moan out while clutching onto Rafes' shoulders as he pushes all the way inside you. His little praises and actions are making you feel so cared for and you can feel your self going into subspace...Rafe can see it in your eyes too

"Fuck there you go love...just relax and let me take care of you" he loves seeing you like this...knowing he did that to you taking care of you and fucking you so good that you are in heaven

Rafe moves his hand between your bodies while continuing with his thrusts and starts rubbing your clit. "Ahh, mmm," you can't even get words out at how he's making you feel

"Your cunt is squeezing me so good...I'm gonna fill you up" Rafes sputtering out while his thrusts are getting sloppier but his fingers on your clit are getting faster making sure that you cum too. Your cries are getting louder.

You can feel you orgasm coming. Feeling it unwind in your stomach and electricity going through your body, making you cry out and dig your nails into Rafes shoulders

"Oh fuckk" Rafe groans out feeling your cunt throb around him as you cum and with your fingernails digging into his shoulder causing a little pain. It has Rafe cumming inside of you filling you up

"Mmm" you sigh as you feel his cum dripping out of you. "Shit, that's a good girl" Rafes coos while stroking your thigh watching his cum drip out your cunt.

"You did so good honey," you can hear his words, but they sound a little muffled. You feel completely fucked out right now. This whole evening made you relaxed and feel so loved by Rafe. "You still with me?" Rafe asks while he starts to clean you up with a towel. He knows that you're out of it, and that's just how he wanted you

"Mhmm" is all you can get out. You don't even want to speak right now, completely relaxed. Rafe leaves all of the lingerie on you while he pulls on boxers before coming next to you and cuddling.

"Get some rest, love," he says while pulling you under his chin to cuddle. "You've got a long night ahead of you... I don't want a single thought in this head tonight, " he says, kissing your head.

Fuck you were gonna be sore tomorrow...

#rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe obx #drew starkey smut #drew starkey

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chuunai · 2 months

Note

Please I’m begging for a baby daddy Sigma,I honestly see him as a girl dad or the possibly of the mother having twins and how he’ll be so gentle and curious.

yeah I needed this too.

✧˚ · . for the first time — sigma

His place in the world is solidified by two mini hims.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → babies —> babies —> babies

Sigma’s origins were unordinary.

His ‘birth’ was the moments his eyes opened to that desert of nothing but pockets of sand. Only a ticket with no real destination was clutched in his hands. There was no evidence of his family, life or being. He was just a man with nothing but the rags he wore. His first tastes of humanity were bitter and full of despair.

The first few months of his life could be summed up in three words.

Mundane, hazy and all too real.

It passed by a blur, but it never left his mind. His mind couldn’t remember much, but his body did. Oh, it remembered so much. The texture of sand under his feet as he walked for miles on end with no destination in sight. The sun burning him during the day and the moon freezing him during the night.

The endless cycle was all he knew back then.

It was better than the cycle he walked into next. The life of a dog. Grateful for the scraps his benefactors threw him, and eager to please them in return. He was used, manipulated and thrown away at the blink of an eye.

Nowadays, whenever he thought back to that period of time, Sigma felt shame. He was so naive and thankful for not even the bare minimum. He did so much for the sole reason of finding a home.

Home was an idea he desperately idolized. It was something everyone had. From birth, people had homes and a family. Sigma didn’t have the luxury of such a blessing. The universe tainted their fingers to make him, yet couldn’t even grant him with such a factor. There was no place in the world that he considered his home until the Sky Casino.

Sigma used to think that was his true home.

It was his life’s work—the lungs he breathed air into, the heart that kept his body going and his very being. He woke up there, and he ended his days there. That’s what a home was. The place where one felt the most comfort and safety.

It was a location. A specific part of the world that was his and his alone.

But then it became yours, too.

The day you entered his dim world was the day he found the real sun. You shone so brightly, your rays lighting up the area wherever you want.

He was mesmerized. Sigma thought you were an angel from the holy book Fyodor always spoke about. Were you there to cleanse him of his sins? To be the blessing the world had denied him for so long? He hoped. And he prayed.

Those fingers that had once done labor in the desert held yours when he slid the ring onto your finger that one fateful night. It’s also when he first learned that home could be a person too. That home was wherever you and him were, together. And the home only grew to grant him with more than he could ever hope for.

A family was unfamiliar to him.

But Sachiel and Lilith soon became his everything. His angels born from his angel spouse. It helped ease his acceptance of the fact that he too was a real human.

Could he have helped to create these children otherwise?

“Bah!”

The energetic coo from next to him snapped Sigma out of his nostalgia, his eyes looking down at Sachiel. The boy had inherited his lilac hair and soft eyes, and his heart swelled as he got out of his desk chair to cradle the baby to his chest.

He was gorgeous.

Pressing a careful kiss to his head, Sigma walked out of his study and made his way to the nursery. Just an hour ago you two had agreed to each take one of the twins to handle for some bonding time. But he just wanted to see you and his daughter. He was quite attached to his family.

From inside the nursery, he could hear Lilith’s giggles and babbles mixed with your voice.

Walking in slowly, he smiled at the sight of you holding a plush dragon and making up a story to the small child.

“…and the dragon spat out fire at the castle and roared! Grrr, grrrr-“

You stopped when you noticed Sigma’s presence and Sachiel squirming in his arms. He wished he hadn’t interrupted the moment now.

He sat down next to you quietly, letting Sachiel crawl over to his sister as the two began to play together.

Sigma was so curious about them.

What they’ll grow up to be, how they’ll live life. He hoped they’d be happy and healthy forever. He’d gladly gamble away the Sky Casino if it meant having a sure shot at providing for them.

He meant it, really.

For the first time, he understood what a family was.

yeah I’m sorry this took so long I’ve just been swamped with work lately TvT

Tags: @sinfulthoughtsposts, @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx

Specific Tags only for this Post: @gins-slave, @atheistbsd, @aikyouhosh1ka, @cvsmois, @dumpmh, @pinky-99, @little-gloub, @n0thum4ny, @starracoonagain, @ratt46, @luclue, @star-light18464, @minomikn

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #chuunai #bungo stray dogs x reader #fanfic #bsd fluff #bsd tag #sigma bungou stray dogs #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #sigma #bungou sd #bsd imagines #bsd

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luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

You want to see the floating lights. Steve wants his satchel back. You come to an arrangement that is mutually beneficial… sorta. tangled!au

10k words, reader insert, fem!reader, medieval times (ish!), begrudging allies, fake dating/marriage, lots of changes from tangled movie but it’s got the spirit, I tried to be inclusive of all hair types but it is magical and floor length nonetheless, magical realism, TW for abusive mother + narcissism, mother is awful, steve is gonna show her the world is a good place!! allies to friends to lovers, pining

˗ˋˏ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Steve's hands are bleeding by the time he works his way into the tower, raw from the rough grit of old hewn stone. He hisses with every handhold he finds, adrenaline staving off the worst of the pain as his eyes scrabble for the next ledge.

Five feet, three. His hand slaps into the dark wood of a window ledge and he heaves himself up, the joints of his arms screaming in protest. Were it not for the rumbling of horse hooves like an earthquake outside of the grotto he might've given up, hoped for a soft landing.

The threat of being caught propels him forward.

He lands on the tiled flooring of the main atrium of the tower with an audible plop of fabric, his satchel clunking hard by his hip.

"Stars," he says. He breathes hard, trying and failing to slow his heart now he's found sanctuary.

He lifts his cheek from the mosaic beneath and peers around the room. He gawps.

It's mostly dark, and still he can make out the intricate, masterful artwork decorating the curved wall. Flowers made up of a thousand colours, petals dripping with dew, their anthers heavy with pollen. A field of every flower he's ever seen and a hundred others he's not familiar with. He has really, truly, never seen anything like it. Not even the spectacle of the Palace could hold a candle to what he sees before him. No books he'd read growing up had ever conjured an image as sharply magical as this.

He pushes up onto his elbows. Sunlight drips into the room from the wooden shutters he’d crawled through, illuminating the feet of each cabinet, a washing basin, and the brick oven under a staircase that ascends into the tower. He sniffs and finds the stick of coal dust heavy in the air; somebody lives here.

Steve's quickly proven right when you swing from behind an alcove near the kitchenette.

He startles backward and away from you as you advance, a cast iron pan held aloft in delicate hands and wielded with an intimidating confidence.

"Holy- Wait! Wait, please," he cries, holding his hands palm out in surrender.

Steve doesn't suppose you'd been expecting such a feeble intruder. He'd feel a strike against his dignity if it hadn't worked — you slow in the centre of the room, your breath coming in quick pants as the iron pan in your grip shakes.

You're scared.

You're beautiful.

"What do you want?" you ask, a pleading sort of twist to your question. "I don't have anything. I don't have anything worth taking."

"Please," he says loudly. "I don't want anything. Sanctuary for the night, nothing else."

Your chest rises. Steve feels smarmy, but he finds his eyes drawn to the valley of your chest, the bodice of your dress. A soft and buttery orange sewn with the palest pink and lilac embroidery. It's a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship, lovely enough that he wonders briefly if you're of royal descent, but the dress itself is a peasant's gown.

His eyes rise back to your unhappy face. Your brows are pulled up at the starts, a delicate display that betrays your fear.

You glare at him.

"You can't stay here," you assert.

"One night." Steve pulls his satchel into his lap to procure a small coin purse. He'd love to say it was his coin purse. He cannot. "I have silvers. I can pay you."

He will not be paying you anything. He won't rob you, though. He's not a total miscreant.

"You can't stay," you say again, raising your iron pan higher above your shoulder. He sees a flash of something at your hip. "My mother–"

"Holy stars, is that your hair?"

You seize up, making an almost inaudible sound of dejection. "No."

"Are you sure? It looks very much like hair."

Steve anchors his hand to the floor and leans downward to get a better look. You turn with him, attempting to shield your long hair from view and only helping him along. It sways with your movements, the ends near long enough to dance over the floor.

"You have to leave. Leave!"

Steve bites the inside of his lip. A rainbow of light arcs through the air and caresses your cheek, and the wind chime hanging in the window tinkles softly with a warm summer breeze. The tower echoes with your huffing breath. The pan is too heavy for you to hold any longer and you let it drop with a wrist-tugging defeat.

"I'm not trying to scare you. But I really can't leave. I won't harm a hair on your head," he adds with a smile, eyebrows slightly raised in wait of your laughter.

You don't laugh, nor do you smile.

"My mother, she'll come home any minute now," you say unconvincingly.

He tips his head to one side. "Then I'll speak with your mother and get her permission to stay."

"She won't give it."

You're really too handsome to be frowning as you are. Steve wants to do as he does with all pretty people and make you smile, but the task feels insurmountable. You want him to leave. He can't.

"If I leave, I'll be killed," he says. While it's not a lie in its entirety, neither is it a truth.

Your grip tightens around the handle of your pan. "What?" you ask worriedly.

He feels guilty for garnering your concern though it's exactly what he'd been aiming for, nodding his head gravely.

"I'm being pursued by ruffians. For days now. I only need to hide here for the night while they clear the forest. They'll look for me elsewhere, after."

His storytelling voice is clear. Admittedly much too dramatic and yet you eat it up like a child devours spun sugar. Your hands press to your chest, frying pan held in your palm like the pommel of a sword.

"Ruffians?" you repeat.

He swoops in. "Not to worry. They didn't see me scale the tower, or even enter the valley." He gives you a commending smile. "You're very well hidden."

"Not well enough, clearly."

"I got lucky."

You back away from him. You don't turn your back to him, smart girl, only widen the gap between your two bodies with a fluttering unease.

"I wish I could help you," you whisper urgently, "I wish I could. But my mother, if she finds you here, I- I'm not sure what she'll do."

Steve blinks dazedly. "She would kill me?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then whatever it is will be a kinder fate."

That shatters the very last of your resolve. You visually err on what to do next, how to handle his being here. Steve’s head races with thoughts of the palace guards, of Thomas and Carol, and of you — your skin lit by the sun, and your long, long hair.

"Do you want some water?" you ask quietly.

The relief he conjures is as authentic as it comes. "Yes. More than anything."

—

Your mysterious stranger sits at one end of the table in Mother's seat while you sit across from him, a small clay drinking cup encapsulated by his large hand. You're making no effort to hide how closely you're watching him, though if he's under the impression it's for safety's sake then that's best.

He's very, very fine.

You haven't seen a man in person before, and if they all look like this you might wish you'd ventured out of the tower sooner. He wears a worn brown tunic that shows evidence of numerous careful darnings, its top button popped open to reveal a tiniest hint of curled hair disappearing downward.

The hair on his head and tucked behind his ears is comely as corn silk but much darker. It shines in the descending sunlight now flooding the room. There's a golden tinge to everything at this time that leaves no inch of his person unscathed; his eyes glow with it, his irises a melting brown that reminds you of rare, thick honey.

"The flowers," he says after an aching pause. "Are they painted? They must have been a huge expense."

You follow his gaze, surprised at his question in two ways. That he would ask, and that he would think somebody else did them.

"They're how I spend my summers."

"Looking at them?"

You laugh from the pure joy of the complement he's implying, unused to his awed reaction. Mother usually nods or hums at a new unveiling, and one time you'd earned a, "That's wonderful, darling."

You're not sure she'd actually been looking at the time.

"I painted them myself."

The stranger's jaw drops. "A little thing like you?" he asks.

"I'm hardly little," you deny, neither of stature nor burden.

"You're young, aren't you? You can't be more than twenty summers."

"What a funny way of speaking," you murmur, more to yourself than him. "I'm twenty. I'll be one and twenty, in a few days."

His eyes narrow. "Well, what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"You aren't married?"

You try not to be offended and fail spectacularly. "Most don't get married until they're nearing five and twenty!"

"Most," he agrees. "But a girl as pretty as you? Who can paint like this? Don't tell me you've been hiding from every man in the kingdom."

You turn your face from him in case he can tell how flustered you are. Two complements in one day is unprecedented. Your heart bump-bump-bumps.

"Are you married?" you ask swiftly, hoping to redirect this line of conversation away from something as treacherous as your own isolation. Any answer would expose you.

"I am, actually. She has the most gorgeous shine to her face, and her laugh is melodic and sweet as anything, a tinkling sound. She's bronze-skinned, a slight thing, but she's worth her weight in gold."

He grins. You can't help but smile in response, infected by his endearing affection.

"What's her name?" you ask, voice near a coo.

"Argento."

You stare at him. His smile gets so big it looks like it could bruise his cheeks.

"You're talking about money."

"She's a brilliant bedfellow, isn't she? She keeps me warm and fed every night. She's a good girl." He sighs and crosses his arms behind his head. His attempt at nonchalance is ruined when he cringes in pain and drops them gracelessly back into his lap.

You cover your mouth and laugh. He's funny. Mother doesn't make half as many jokes.

Mother. As if the mere thought of her is enough to summon her presence, a shrill call echoes from the bottom of the tower.

"Y/N, darling, throw down the rope for your mother!"

You jump to your feet, slippers sliding against the mosaic floor in a hurried scratch. "You have to hide," you whisper harshly.

The stranger pouts at you. "Seriously, let me talk to her, I–"

You shake your head voraciously at his loud volume and press your finger to your lips, eyes begging with him to be quiet.

"Please," you whisper, "hide. I'll hide you 'til tomorrow, when she leaves in the morning."

He doesn't move.

"Y/N? I don't have all day!" The irritation in her voice is obvious.

"Please," you whisper again.

He gets up with a mild eye roll. You rush to the window and look down at your mother where she stands at the bottom, looking impossibly small.

"There you are! What are you waiting for? I'm not very happy with you, darling."

You lick your lips. "Sorry!" you call, turning to the rope spooled to the right of the window. You throw the rope over the hook at the top of the frame, pausing when you see the stranger lingering in your peripheral vision at the top of the stairs.

"What are you doing? Go!" you whisper.

He nods toward your hands. "Couldn't have thrown that down to me, could you?"

You shoo him away, his easy laughter doing nothing to assuage your racing heart as you drop the length of looped rope down to your mother. You wait until she's secured her foot in the loop before you start to walk backwards, lifting her weight.

It doesn't get any less laborious as you grow up. By the time she's reached the top of the tower you can hardly breathe. You cough so hard you feel nauseous.

"Holy stars, you sound ghastly. And it's completely unbecoming to cough like that without covering your mouth. You know that."

"Sorry, mother."

She hums. You can't decipher what it means, but it likely isn't something forgiving.

"I hope you had some time to think about our argument."

You hold your clasped hands behind your back, hair tickling your knuckles. "I did… I'm sorry, mother."

She stares at you for a moment from under dark eyebrows before her face lifts, the wrinkles in her soft forehead appearing more prominently as she says, "Darling, why do you do this? Why do you insist on making me angry?" She raises her hands to your neck, long fingernails weaving seamlessly into the mass of hair she finds there. "You know I'm only trying to protect you."

"I know," you say, tears burning hot behind your eyes. You will them away. Crying will make it worse, it always does.

She toys with your hair, eyes on your shoulder. You have the peculiar feeling that though she's looking at you she isn't truly looking at you, but through you. Her eyes are distant, unfocused.

Her finger wraps into your hair, twisting a strand behind your ear over, and over, and over. You shift uncomfortably at the tugging feeling at the back of your scalp but don't protest to her touches — any touch at all feels like a gift. Mother isn't generous with her affections.

"Maybe I've been too hard on you," she murmurs.

You loose a pained breath as she takes her hand from your hair and brings it to your face instead. She draws a line from the corner of your eye outwards, a kind, soft petting that gives you goosebumps.

"No, mother. I'm grateful for everything I have. I was being unreasonable, I don't need anything else. I… shouldn't have asked about the stars."

"No, you shouldn't have."

She moves from you to hang her robe up on the hanger. You tamp down your frowning because mother hates when you make her feel guilty and try to decide how it is you're going to escape to your bedroom for the night. You have lots of questions you want to ask the stranger.

You spot something out of the corner of your eye as your mother flits to the kitchen. There, on the table, sits two clay cups half empty and at opposite ends. You side eye your mother and find she's distracted herself with putting a wooden log into the oven's belly, grumbling about how you've neglected your afternoon chores.

You throw yourself in front of the table with a thud.

"What are you doing?" Mother asks, disgruntled.

"Nothing! I mean, I'm cleaning up. I forgot to empty these cups of paint after I finished."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

The thing about mother is that most of the things she says are neutral. Anybody else might think she was being light-hearted or blasé. She phrases everything so meticulously.

But she is not kind.

You laugh breathily and turn to the cups. Your heart leaps into your throat when you find the cup isn't the worst of what might give you away. Hooked over the back of the chair is the stranger's leather satchel, a ratty old thing sagging with the weight of its contents.

You take it. The zipper snags and the cause of the weight reveals itself in a clinking upheaval, a flash of light across the floor. You throw yourself over the chair to grab for it, a mindless scrambling, silver and gems cool and sharp under your hand. You shove it back in the satchel, no clue what it is. You've never seen anything like it.

"What are you doing?" Mother asks, her voice occluded by the soft bubbling of the cooking pot.

"It's dusty down here!" you call.

"Yes, well… it's to be expected when all you do is paint all day, darling."

"You're right," you say quietly. "Of course you are, mother."

Steve hadn't suspected your room would look as plain as it does. You've a simple bed with a modest quilt and one tired looking pillow, though it's been made with neat folded corners. A stuffed rabbit sits at the bottom, lavender velveteen with a pink button nose. He doesn't touch it, though he'd like to. He's not sure he's ever touched a stuffed animal before.

He can hear you talking to your mother, or rather your mother talking at you. He must say, she doesn't sound like the easiest woman to get along with. But Steve's never had a mother, so maybe that's just what they're like.

You have a small table to one corner covered in small trinkets. Shells, stones, papers loose and bound. He flips open the soft cover of a book and finds it filled with pencil sketches, corner to corner of every page.

You've drawn the most mundane things in remarkable colour and detail. The cooking pot over the stove top, the washing basin, the wooden table. Your slippers, your hair brush. Ordinary things in extraordinary detail, and extraordinary colour.

He pauses at a loose leaf of brown paper tucked toward the end of the book. It's a bird on the window ledge, a fruit dove. The face and beak are in great detail, white feathers made corporeal by the smudge of hard pastel. The wings are rough, white and pale pinks and greens unrendered.

Footsteps sound up the stairs.

Shit, Steve thinks. They're a hurried sound. He's been sussed. He turns on his heel to find a place to hide.

"Shit," he says, climbing the circular platform that holds your bed and collapsing to the floor, wriggling on his back until he's hidden underneath the bed and sheets completely.

He holds his breath as the door creaks open.

"Um… mister… uh, stranger man?"

He waves his hand from under the bed.

"Oh, right. Move over," you say, and then you're getting under the bed to join him.

Steve moves over and suddenly you're there beside him, the two of you pressed arm to arm under your bed. Your smell is impossible to ignore, the fruity fragrance of jasmine and milk-soap. He stares at your face as you settle, your eyelashes fluttering, your subtle smile.

You turn your head to his. The two of you flinch in tandem, eyes flying away from each other to the underside of the bed.

Oh, Steve thinks. Holy stars.

You've painted lanterns on every slat. Purple paper lanterns that glow orange and yellow in their centres, tens of them in different sizes. It's as breathtaking as your field of flowers downstairs despite the major decrease in scale.

"Wow," he says, on impulse, "these are amazing."

You inhale happily. "Thank you. The floating lights are my favourite thing. They always come out-" You cut yourself off with a cough. "Well. I love them."

"'Floating lights,'" he quotes. You're strange.

"I wanted to go see them, but…"

"But mother said no?"

"No," you murmur weakly. He takes it for yes. "She doesn't believe they're not stars."

He can hear each individual breath you take this close and suspects that you can hear his own. It's a funny thing to be this close to you when he doesn't know you beyond your painting and your too-long hair. He can see a lot more of your details, your tiny bumps and fine hairs.

"What's your name?" he asks quietly.

"I'm Y/N." You lay your ear against the wooden floor to look at him. "What's your name?"

"Steven. Steve will do just fine."

"Steve," you say, like you're testing it out. "Steve, you lied to me."

His eyes widen.

"Did I?" he asks, trying to disarm you with a smile and failing yet again.

"You lied," you whisper. "What's in the satchel, Steve?"

"It's not what you think."

"I think it's exactly what I think."

You're giving him a hard stare. He smiles and smiles and smiles, his facade cracking the longer you look at him. His breath all falls out in a rush, blowing the hair from his eyes as he sighs. "Alright, fine. I lied about the ruffians. In my defence, there isn't a big difference between those fools from the palace and true ruffians."

You sit up and wack your head on the bed slats above. Steve reaches out to help though there's nothing to do.

You push his hand away. "Palace guards?" you ask in an urgent whisper, hand held to the top of your head.

"Obviously. They don't just let you walk out of there without a fight… Wait, why are you surprised?" He measures your sheepish face. "You conniving, deceitful gir!"

"I might not know what it is, but I can tell it's not the kind of thing someone like you would have on his person," you say, grumbling at his insults.

His injustice at having been tricked drops away. "You don't know what it is? You've never seen a tiara?”

Your embarrassment is adorable. You change the subject deftly. “You lied to me, let’s not forget. You’re in danger because of the consequences of your own actions. Can’t believe I fell for your sob story. I should tell my mother exactly what kind of man I have hiding under my bed.”

“Who you’re hiding under your bed with.”

You climb out from under the bed with an irritated harrumph. Steve untangles a length of your hair that’s gotten wrapped around one of the beds feet before you can yank your own head back and follows you out.

“Don’t be mad,” he says.

“You’re a criminal,” you say angrily.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Your furious whispers pause when your mother starts to sing downstairs. Steve can see the debate on your face. Yes, he’s a liar, yes, he’s a criminal, and yes, you should churn him back out into the valley. Send his untrustworthy self on his sorry way and wipe your hands of him entirely.

To do so would mean admitting to your mother that he’s here.

“Just… don’t talk to me. And don’t steal anything.”

He grins. “As you wish, my lady.”

—

“Y/N?” a voice asks in the dark.

It’s impossible to relax with him here. You’re worried he’s going to slit your throat while you sleep. You’re doubly worried he’ll see your unattractive resting face. Warped priorities aside, you can’t make yourself sleep.

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“The floating lights?”

Your eyes fly open. You get the disorienting feeling of blindness and blink in the dark until you can make out the faintest glow of moonlight under the door. “Yeah?”

“Those are called lanterns.”

You swallow a rough breath. “Lanterns.”

“Mm-hm. They’re made of paper. You light them and send them up with the breeze. The ones you’ve been seeing, they’re probably for the lost princess.”

“The lost princess?”

“Yeah. The entire kingdom floods into the town and each person lights a lantern for her. It’s more of a festival these days, but… They're supposed to help her find her way home. If she’s really lost, that is.”

You hum something, an attempt to reply, but you're too distracted to say anything else. Floating paper. A lost princess. You close your eyes and clouds of purple, pink and orange burn against your eyelids.

—

"You want me to what?"

"I want you to take me to see the lanterns."

Steve's back aches from sleeping flat on the floor all night long, and his shoulders scream every time he moves from climbing, and his hands are gross and sore with scabs, and he truthfully doesn't have the patience for this conversation.

"No."

"Fine. Don't take me, and I will keep the tiara as an innkeeper's fee."

"There's usually breakfast at an inn," he says.

You slap a steaming hot bowl of porridge in front of him. You've drizzled the surface with honey and placed red berries over the top to form a smiling face. The heat of the porridge has melted the berries into blobs that break from their skin when he pokes them with a spoon.

"Oh," he says. Nice.

He looks up to find you dressed in a different gown than yesterday, this one made up of a green bodice with white sleeves and a white skirt. The bottom hem is sewn with dainty yellow flowers, the bodice with vines in a darker shade of green. It's a very sweet dress on an otherwise sweet looking girl, if you ignore the formidable twist of your brow.

Fine, he'll bite. Your frown is sweet too.

"I'm not taking you anywhere," he says, about to scoop up a bite of porridge. He's starving.

You pull the bowl away from him, his spoon diving straight into the gnarled wooden table.

"You'll take me, or I'll tell the first palacemen that I find who you are and where you were."

"This isn't how you negotiate."

"Good thing I'm not negotiating."

He tries to intimidate you. Steve is not very intimidating. He frowns and he looks unhappy rather than angry, the worst he dips into is a pestered annoyance. His stomach gurgles in the ensuing silence.

"Why do you need someone to take you? Your mother left just this morning by herself."

You raise your eyebrows.

Steve sighs. "And if I did take you… then what? I suppose you'll want safe passage home, as well?"

You slide his porridge a little bit closer to his outstretched hand.

"You'll be coming back this way anyhow."

Well, yeah. He didn't know you knew that. Steve sighs, the most pained and inconvenienced groan he can muster because everything is awful and he's hurting in six different places. You don’t budge.

"Fine. Fine! I'll take you into the city to see the lanterns, and I'll bring you home. And you will give me back my satchel and my- uh, findings."

You push the porridge toward him. "That was easier than I expected."

Steve wishes he could pretend your smugness wasn't sweet, either. Because he isn't going to make this easy for you, not one bit.

He watches you pack your bag from the table and feels very, very sorry for you. For starters, you don't really have a bag, only a sack for potatoes now emptied. You take two clean dresses down from the clothesline they'd been hanging on and fold them before putting them at the bottom of the sack carefully, and then you're clueless.

"It'll be five or six days," he says, "now I've lost my horse."

Lost isn't the right word. His stolen horse had sprinted off into the forest and left him stranded. Another ailment to add to his list — thrown bodily off of a stallion.

"Do you have any better shoes?"

You look down at your pretty slippers and grimace. "No."

"You don't get out much, do you?"

You ignore him and pull a case of things out from under the small counter in the alcove of your kitchen. You drop a roll of linen bandages into the sack and shove the case back under the counter with your foot as you bring out a block of cheese and a box of matches.

Poor girl, he thinks.

"Don't worry too much about it."

"I'm not worried," you say, topping your provisions off with a punnet of fruit and the last of your fresh flatbread covered in a beeswax wrapping. "This will be fun."

—

You're scared enough to feel tears welling in your eyes.

Steve walks ahead of you, shoes hidden by lush green grass as he makes his way toward the valley's exit. You're not sure he's realised you're not behind him, or maybe he has and he refuses to wait. You've finished bricking the secondary entrance to the tower closed again, and while it seems obviously disturbed you have no choice but to hope mother doesn't steer around the back anytime soon.

Your adrenaline has been pumping ever since you jimmied the tile and unlocked the trap door. Your chest physically aches with anxiety, and your breath has begun to feel short and shallow.

"Are you coming?" Steve calls.

You heave the potato sack over your shoulder and take a step forward.

The earth is soft and hard underfoot, an impossible sensation. You rock your heel back and forth and test the uneven ground for purchase. The temptation to reach down and touch it for the first time is high but Steve's still watching you, so you hurry toward him and try not to fall over. You take a huge, calming breath.

It smells gorgeous out here. Despite keeping the window cracked and the tower clean, there's a lived-in smell that can't be escaped. Out here, you can practically taste the earth. The crisp air burns your nose.

Steve keeps a fast pace and neither of you talk. Your companion isn't happy about his predicament and you can't blame him, you've practically taken him hostage. He isn't a poor sport either, and he hasn't been cruel. Quiet, he parts the ivy covering the valley exit and lets you pass.

The world is even bigger from there.

"Stay close, okay? I don't know what kind of vagrants we'll come across this far from town."

You swallow a lump in your throat. "Uh-huh."

You stay likely too close, your arm gracing his own every now and then. Each time you pull away and each time you end up drifting back toward him. The quiet is impenetrable. You don't know what to say to a man. To anybody. Mother's usually the guiding force of every conversation, and her insistence has left you poorly equipped.

Steve seems content to languish in silence.

You walk. You watch the sun move, heat burning your skin by midday. You're not used to walking such long distances or being so exposed to the elements, and by evening you hurt everywhere. Your face shines with perspiration and your shoes chafe your ankles raw, each step a barb.

As if things couldn't get worse, guilt grabs and holds you. Guilt and fear. What will mother think if she finds out you've left? What would she say? How ridiculously naive, darling. I told you, you aren't to leave the tower. Do you seriously think you know better than I do? Do you think I'm stupid? I'm hurt. I'm hurting that you'd think so low of me.

You try to shake the thoughts away. A shiver rushes down your spine.

Steve holds a hand over his eyes, turning his head to the West where the sun approaches the horizon.

"It'll be dark in a few hours,” he says.

You nibble the inside of your cheek, voice hoarse and throat dry from your lack of conversation. "Will we camp for the night?"

He shakes his head, the sun climbing up his neck to paint his brown hair blonde. "If memory serves, there's an inn not far from here." He smiles. "You'll like it."

"Oh. That's good."

"Yeah."

You kick a small stone. "How do you know where we're going?" You'd been on a dirt path now for an hour or two, or rather two dirt paths, worn by carriage wheels. "Everything looks the same."

"I'm an excellent navigator."

Sure enough, he navigates the two of you toward a pretty little inn snugly hidden between a crop of towering, leafy trees, a shock of beige and brown in an overwhelmingly green landscape.

"Le Vilain Caneton," you read off of the sign, giving him a bright smile. "That sounds nice."

"What did I tell you? You're gonna love this."

—

Steve doesn't feel bad, at first.

He throws open the door. The handle slams hard enough into the wood behind it that he's surprised there isn't a cracking sound. He ushers you inside, finding that the handle hasn't broken a hole in the wall because there's already one there.

It's sleazy, all things considered. Steve has avoided this place pretty much his entire adult life after a trade gone wrong, and while he feels his appearance has changed enough to spare him a skirmish he affects the Steven Harrington manner. Two-timing baby Stevie is nowhere to be seen.

He's still a two-timer. Case in point.

"Isn't it charming?" he murmurs to you, hand held aloft behind your back. Not touching but ready to if you step back.

"Yeah," you say weakly. "Really cute."

Adorable.

Steve takes a step that encourages you forward into the main area of the room. The smell of cheap ale blooms and the floor is sticky with it. He regrets how it will likely ruin your pretty slippers but he isn't a coward, walking you right up to the bar where a scary looking guy stands wiping glasses with a dirty rag.

"Are you the innkeeper?" he asks jovially. "We'd like a room."

Scary guy squints, looks between you and Steve with apprehension.

Steve's trying to scare you, not get caught. He throws his arm over your shoulders. You shrink under his touch. It's too late for him to pull away, guilt softening the grasp he has on your shoulder as he lays down a thick facade.

"My wife's tired as a lamb from walking all day, could we get a hot bath drawn with that?"

Scary guy spits into the cup with a scoff. "Judy?" he calls out gruffly.

Steve beams. You curl into him slowly, a flower turning to the sun, hiding from the cold. You still smell of jasmine milk soap after all these hours of walking, but he doesn't miss how the lengths of your hair have grown dishevelled with sweat and wind. He wonders how long it might take you to brush free the knots and tangles. He wonders if you do it in the bath.

You turn to him with your face shining with a trust he doesn't deserve, like you're seeking his protection.

"Steve, I don't have any money," you whisper.

His hand rests in the nook of your neck. "That's alright. Consider it part of your innkeeper's fee."

"Does this come with breakfast, too?" you ask genuinely.

Judy, a tall, lithely woman who can't be more than thirty takes her station behind the bar and smiles at you before her eyes follow Steve's arm to his body. He freezes at the calculating tilt of her head, the subtle but not invisible squint.

"Breakfast is an additional two silvers."

"And for the room and bath?"

"Ten for the room, five for the bath, two for breakfast." Judy grins. Her hair is like copper, shifting around sharp cheekbones. "Seventeen silvers all together."

Steve frowns but hands over the money.

Judy takes you up the first flight of rickety stairs to your room, and nods toward the bathing room as you pass it. She shows you where you'll be spending the night, a ramshackle room with a bed made of what Steve suspects to be more straw than padding. He's relieved at the thick quilt set and folded at the bottom. It looks clean enough.

"I'll knock when the bath is drawn. Will that be for both of you?"

And so. Steve had feared this, feared the bath in general, and had forgotten to explain this fear to you.

"Both of us," he says, nodding.

You're thankfully smart enough to keep any grievances you have at that to yourself. At least, until the door closes, and you pin him with a look that's a mixture of betrayed and furious. Your eyebrows pinch together.

"Why did you say that?"

"It's what's expected of us."

"By who?" you ask, near belligerent.

He shushes you, a frown of his own taking form. "By everybody. It's what married couples do, they share the water when travelling. And it wouldn't be proper for you to be in the bathing room by yourself, how could your husband protect your honour?"

"You're not my husband."

He shushes you again, this time with a severe expression that finally has you giving pause. Your eyes flash with fear and quickly clear. You take a step back.

He holds a hand out toward you amicably. "Sorry. But it will be much safer for both of us if we can keep our ruse alive. Someone as handsome as you, it isn't right for your reputation to be travelling with me while you're still unmarried, you know? And for me…" He doesn't want to explain the horrible truth to you. If Steve refuses to leave you, to share you, to let men do what men would like to do to you, that might invite a riot.

"I don't have a reputation," you say.

He shrugs. "It is safer for us to be married." He hesitates, remembering why he'd brought you here in the first place. The horrible truth may be unseemly, but it could be enough to get you to bow out. "If we aren't married… Well, it doesn't bear saying."

"What?" you ask, a curious thing. He loves it, and not only because it works to his advantage.

"Men will take anything they find beautiful. And without care."

Your fingers tighten around the mouth of your potato sack bag.

"I see," you say. "Of course. I knew that, mother always says, but."

He winces at the reminder of your cruel mother. He feels cruel himself, suddenly, for scaring you on purpose as your mother likely does, for being another member of the opposition in your life. All you want is to see the Princess' lanterns, so much so you've hidden under your bed and painted their colours painstakingly onto each slat of supporting wood. A hidden wish, and one you'd deigned to share with him. He starts to think, Maybe I should just take her. How much could it possibly cost me?

But Steve's from nothing. He was born from nothing, he grew up with nothing. He is, in the grand scheme of the universe and its many, many stars, nothing. Another orphaned boy destined to waste his life stealing coppers from coin purses and sleeping in doorways.

The sooner he gets that tiara, the better. No more sleeping outside. No more staring up at the wine dark sky and wondering if any of those blistering stars can hear him.

If they can, they aren't listening.

You put your bag down on the floor. It thunks.

"What have you piled in there, sweetness? A mountain?" he asks, momentarily distracted.

"Nothing!" you rush to say, standing in front of your bag like it might hide it from his view.

The door knocks before he can question you further. "The bath!" comes Judy's solid tone.

"Thank you," Steve says, "we'll be right out." He nods at you. "Your change of clothes?"

You search through your bag with your shoulders to him, hunched to shield the mystery.

"You can keep your secrets," he teases lightly. The stars know he keeps his own.

Through the hallway to the bathing room, Judy kicks open the door, points to the bath as though he might not see it otherwise, and then the small weight by the doorway to keep the door closed. There's no steam to the water.

"How conning," Steve mutters, closing the door after Judy's departure.

"What?" you ask, your voice curiously strung.

"The water’s barely hot."

"I've never had a hot bath before."

He looks at you through the corner of his eye. "Never?"

"Sometimes mother would pour warm water through my hair, but no. Does it hurt, when it's too hot?"

He can't help grinning at you. "Some of the time," he concedes. "It's a nice kind of hurting, though, do you know what I mean? You'll feel much better after." He chuckles, sticking his finger into the water. It isn't not hot, but it could be better considering its cost. "Not that this could ever hurt you."

"A nice kind of hurting," you mumble.

"Mm. You should try to be quick, they might want the bath for someone else soon."

You nod, eyes darkening with your remembered predicament. You hug your clean dress to your chest. He thinks, suddenly, that your hair looks very heavy, and that it must hurt your neck.

"I won't look," he says, voice soft with sincerity.

Your shoulders relax.

He sits with his legs stretched out and shoes pressed to the door to stop a potential intruder, listening, trying not to listen, as you peel out of your clothes. Your bare feet sound strange over the wooden floor, a shushing sound. Your dress and corset fall in rustling waves.

You gasp as you step into the water. "Oh," you say, the small sound imbued with a simple, common pleasure.

He feels the tension like fog over the kingdom waters in summer, when the heat is tangible and the nights are short. You look so soft in your clothes. Outside of them, Steve can only imagine.

He tries very hard to push it from his mind, feeling an unwelcome heat rise anyhow. He blames it on the humidity of the room.

You pitter for a moment, in awe of the heat.

"How–" His voice gets caught. He clears his throat, tries a second time, "How do you wash your hair?"

"I lather the soap in my hands and–" You seem to be victim of the same affliction as he is. "Steve, could you pass me my soap? I'm sorry, I've left it on the vanity with my dress."

"If you want me to help you, you need only ask. I've been said to have very hard-working hands."

"I thought you were a thief?"

Steve stands up grudgingly. He usually has much better luck with the ladies, yet all his joking flirtation soars straight over your head. Not that he actually wants it to land, nor does he think he could handle your attention.

He doesn't look at you as he grabs your bar of soap. He unwraps its beeswax covering and hands it to you, looking decidedly at the damp wall opposite. He feels your wet hand touch his. Your skin is so hot it startles him, and the bar of soap slips between your outstretched fingers, slamming and sliding somewhere unknown.

"Shit," he says. "Alright, best cover yourself."

He hears quick movements in the water as he turns to you, throwing his gaze to the floor, only a split flash of your naked skin to be seen. Your soap has rounded the corner of the wooden tub, lying behind your straight back. He kneels to pick it up, scowling at the scum sticking to its underside, and nearly headbutts your forehead as he stands.

He springs back, and he stares. You have water running in rivers down your face, your wet hair framing your shining cheeks, pooling down. It covers the swell of your chest so precisely that Steve bites his tongue, forcing his eyeline back to your waiting face. You have water in your eyes like tears, their lashes turned to triangles, clinging to one another.

You look like one of the women from his storybook. A water nymph. A siren. The room is warm with steam, and his cheeks, hot to begin with, emanate enough heat to warm your tub again as he makes the comparison. Your looks alone might draw him to drowning.

"Steve?" you ask, holding out your hand.

Hair shifts over your body like a dancing shadow, or a beaming light. He isn't sure. There's something about it that feels extraordinary, not just in the length of it.

He passes you your soap. Ridiculous, he thinks. Imbecilic. Your hair is hair and nothing more. While you're achingly pretty and you have a fine hand, that is where your remarkability ends.

"Could you turn around again?" you ask, flustered.

He turns around.

—

"You brought your pan?" Steve asks you, bewildered. He's standing by the small, thin window, metal-wrought panes that filter the last of the sun's rays.

You stand shivering by your potato sack and frown at him, setting the pan on the sheets. "I think we might have a more pressing issue."

"We don't have anything." He seems to appraise your condition. "How do you usually dry your hair?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"How cryptic! I'm afraid you're destined to freeze here, my heart. Or we could take you home, where you may comfortably perform whatever ritual it is that you perform and dry your hair."

"Wasn't there a fireplace downstairs?"

"We aren't going back down there."

"We aren't," you say in agreement, turning his distaste of the collective pronoun back on him. "I'll go by myself."

"That is a horrible, terrible, awful idea."

"I'm not going home. I want to– I’m going to see the paper lanterns."

Steve sighs. After your bath, he'd taken the smaller basin of clean water and washed up, now standing in front of you in his only change of clothes, a darker, navy tunic buttoned to the throat and simple slacks. His shoes are tightly laced even at this hour. You look down at your bare feet and feel majorly abashed by their new blisters and haphazard bandaging. You can't make yourself put your slippers back on.

He continues his sighing as he crosses the room. He's still grumbling when he opens the door.

"Well?" he asks, holding it open.

You pat his arm gently as you pass. "Thank you."

You trek down the stairs, careful with each footstep that you aren't trodding on a misplaced nail or scary splinter. Wood changes to stone flooring, tiles of a terracotta colour that are large and misshapen. You keep your eyes on them as you cross the room to its only source of heat, a blistering hearth just shy of the room's stage and piano. Somebody sits behind it on the piano bench, though they aren't playing the piano at all, but a great wooden instrument you've never seen.

"What is that?" you ask Steve.

He doesn't bend under your attention. He frowns ever so slightly. "What?"

You point to the instrument as conspicuously as you can.

Steve takes your shoulder into his hand and guides you toward the fireplace without malice. He's prompting you along, as you've stopped in the middle of the room.

"You've never seen one of those?" he asks.

"Not in any of my books."

"I guess they're still new. That's a vihuela. It's a… it's a nice sound."

You nod appreciatively, and feel much happier as Steve pulls a nearby chair as close to the hearth as he can without garnering any disgruntled looks from the other patrons. You sneak a peek at their faces. Most are naturally intimidating; there are men with weathered, unkind faces lining the walls with tankards of ale in hand; there are travellers such as yourselves, though they look hardened, sharper than you ever could, coin purses on tables as if daring you to try lifting them; there are women, sparsely, who are sharper in a different way. They remind you of a summer rose, darkly red, a gorgeous head of petals distracting from a thorny stem.

You sit down in your chair and feel the heat of the fireplace greet your chilled skin, and your soaked back. Your dress has soaked up much of your hairs dripping, the kind of unfortunate happenstance that might spiral into your hypothermic death. Steve puts his chair beside yours and turns his entire body toward yours. You like it. It's like he's hiding you from everybody else, replacing their sneering gazes with his fed-up acceptance. You find extreme comfort in this feeling, as though Steve is the only person in the room with you.

"Turn to me."

"What if my hair catches?"

"You aren't close enough for that."

You turn to Steve completely. You look like lovers, you must, worse when he takes your slippers and holds them on top of one of his thighs. He has wide thighs, and they make you feel a feeling you don't understand. Everything you know about men has come from Mother or books. Mother claims them to be evil in their entirety. Of the few books you have, and fewer that talk of men beyond the factual, none have ever mentioned why their legs look like that, and why it will make you feel like you've swallowed something much too hot.

"I'll make sure your hair doesn't go up in flames," he promises grandly, unnecessarily, "consider it one of my guidely duties."

A shy, pleased smile takes your lips. "Thank you."

"Yeah, you're welcome." He closes his eyes and tips his head back. "Stars, I'm hungry."

"I have–"

"We'll buy dinner. They have hunter's stew here, have you ever tried that?"

"No."

He laughs, crossing his arms across his chest. "Of course not. Alright, this will sound gross, but it's really old stew. Years old, maybe decades. They keep adding and adding to the pot with whatever’s in season."

You don't know everything, or anything, really, but you know that sounds like food poisoning in a bowl. "How doesn't it kill you?"

"They keep it really, really hot, all day long."

You like the way he says it, even if he's maybe making fun. He almost sings each word, a melodic cadence to his pronunciation that endears you further.

"And you've had it? What does it taste like?"

"See, you'd think it tastes a bit muddled, right? But it's good. You'll like it."

He makes no move to get up and get the aforementioned soup. You aren't particularly hungry, leaning back just a little so the brutal heat of the flames can warm your damp shoulder. The wetness of your dress is fading, warmed but still undeniably wet, and you wonder if the heat is hurting your hair. Mother always says to keep your hair as far from the hearth as you can at all times, and gets angry when you sit too close.

The soot, darling. The soot will cling to your hair and ruin it. It is, in Mother's opinion, the most beautiful thing about you.

Mother. She shouldn't be back home for days now, and still you're worrying. Mostly about being caught. But if you're caught, and she knows you left…

You have a strange love for your mother. The kind that makes you feel sick in intensity. You want, at all times, to please her. And you know this isn't something she would approve of, Stars, she'd be so disappointed in you for taking this risk.

You stare up at a wooden beam past Steve's head and try not to tear up. Anxiety eats at you until there's nothing left but your skin, your insides a tangled dark whorl of misery. She must know you've left home. She must know how terribly ungrateful you are for everything she's sacrificed. She must know–

"Are you okay?"

You blink hurriedly and face Steve, hoping this will dispel the quick-welling tears clouding your vision. It doesn't work: blinking can’t erase years of pent up worry. You wipe your eyes before they can roll down your cheeks and humiliate you further.

"I'm okay," you say.

Steve frowns again. He's a frowny guy.

"What's wrong?" He takes your elbow into his hand.

"Nothing. Uh…" You smile through your embarrassment. "We don't light the hearth at home, often, and uh, I think the smoke is irritating my eyes." You nod for emphasis.

Steve does not believe you, clearly, but he squeezes your elbow and nods back.

He looks at your face until you're uneasy.

"I'll go get that stew,” he says, patting your arm.

You feel strange once he’s gone. It's nice to be by yourself for a moment. You've spent the majority of your adult life alone while mother goes here, there, and everywhere. You're never allowed to go with her, too stupid for the outside world and all its challenges.

You look around the room now and wonder if this is really the world she means. Sure, it's foreign, and it's unsettling, and without Steve by your side you might not be left alone as you have been, but you'd expected more. Where are all the insects that make you sick, and the men with cutlasses and shackles?

Your eyes drift to the vihuela player. He's moved to sit at the opposite side of the fire. He strums lackadaisically at his instrument, his shoulders against the wall and a cup of mead at his feet. It's obvious nobody's given him any coin in a while.

Behind him sits the piano, glimmering with the flickering firelight. You've read about them, you've even seen drawings of harpsichords, but never heard one played. You wonder what it sounds like. Any music at all is amazing to you. All you've ever heard is singing. One song.

Steve returns with two bowls of hunter's stew. You're scared to try it but horrified that you might look like a coward in front of him. Again. Your tears had been bad enough.

You swallow a spoonful and your eyes water unbidden. "Oh, wow."

"Good, huh?"

You try not to cough. "It's rich."

"I guess you haven't had stuff like this before, huh?" He forks through his bowl and pulls out a big pale vegetable roughly cubed. "You like potato?"

"Yeah," you say, and before you've finished he's pushing the potato against the lip of your bowl and pulling the tines of his fork free. It falls into your stew with a small splash. "Oh. Thank you."

You try to eat as much of it as you can but start to feel sick somewhere in the middle. You set your bowl aside and Steve, bowl emptied, drops his next to it, wiping his hands together and standing.

You look up, puzzled.

"Come on."

Your hair isn't quite dry, a tugging weight for your neck as Steve slides his hand over your warm shoulder. You worry it might never full dry again, not without a helping hand.

He leads you up the small platform to the piano.

You look to him inquisitively.

"It's alright. I asked them if you could try it. Just try not to play too loudly and disrupt the bard."

"How do you adjust how loud it is?"

He pushes down on your shoulders until you're sitting on the bench. "You play softly. It's going to be a little loud no matter what. Don't smash the keys."

"Are they fragile?" you ask worriedly, holding your tensed fingertips above the white and pitch keys.

"No," he says, laughing without any judgement, "move over, I'll show you."

He sits on the bench beside you. There's not a whole lot of room, and his arm presses hot to yours. He places his hand above the keys like he knows what he's doing, and presses down. He plays a line of notes, the sounds a plinking rising melody that has you gasping in awe.

"Don't," —he presses down a huge chunk of keys, and the sound is awful— "do this."

You look up to see if anybody's glaring. Then you burst into giggles, face pressed to his shoulder on automatic as you try to smother the sound. He laughs warmly near your ear.

You probe curiously at the keys and try to make a song. You don't know how, don't know one note from another, you can't fathom how someone might make this into anything more than the bard's lazy fingerings.

"Do you know anything?" Steve asks.

Do you know anything? Mother demands. Darling, I've told you a million times…

"No. Sorry," you say.

His voice is sincerely sweet, like he's confused you'd ever be sorry, "For what? I can play you something. Choose a song."

"I only know the one."

He blinks at you. You shrink into yourself as he averts his gaze, knowing what he's thinking. How useless you are.

The song starts slowly. Steve taps one key, and then another. It lends and lists into music suddenly, the repetition of a simple melody. He doesn't sing, just speaks the words as he plays.

"She sends me a flower to hold me," he says, an echo of song in his tone. "She sends me a flower to– night." He moves his hands up to a higher sound. "She loves me too much, so she's told me. But if she loved me, oh loved me, she might… Come to see me, oh sweetheart, come to see me, oh lover, come to see me, oh darling." He smiles at you. "Come to see me to– night." He clears his throat, hand stilling. "You'd sing the bridge again, but I think I'll spare your ears."

"Is that yours?" you ask him.

He drops his hand into his lap. "No. Steve Harrington doesn't pen love poems, I'm afraid."

"Only plays them."

His smile turns to a smirk, so sticky it's catching.

"You're not the mouse I'd thought you were," he says.

"Was this realisation before or after I tried to maim you with a cast iron pan?"

He's about to answer, a spark behind his eyes, when the door opens wide enough to split its hinges. The origin of the hole in the wall is clear, and he waltzes in with a band of men behind him, grinning.

"Oh, for Stars’ sake," Steve mutters.

"What?" you ask.

The man at the front of the group of men — or, as they step into the light and reveal themselves, boys — sets his one un-patched eye on you and Steve, smiles like the devil, and croons, "Stevie!"

Steve's smile is gone.

"Eddie," he says tiredly.

"You're back!" Eddie looks you up and down, and his expression turns to one of complete surprise. "With a wife? My, my, we have been busy."

Steve stands, and Eddie, in all his darkness, dark hair and eyes and tunic, his grin turns mean. You hide behind one of Steve's thighs, hesitant. He drops his hand against the top of your head.

"Why's it matter?" Steve asks.

"It doesn't." This Eddie sounds all too cheerful. "What does matter, I'm afraid, is the debt between us."

"I don't owe you anything."

You watch with widened eyes as Eddie unsheathes his sword. The scabbard has a mottling of shiny reds and blacks, and the blade glows silver to white in the light. It's sharp.

Steve pulls a small knife from his hip. You hadn't realised he was carrying a weapon.

Eddie takes a step forward, his shoes like a thunderclap across the wooden floor.

"I'm afraid my Sweetheart here doesn't agree."

˗ˋˏ ☆ ˎˊ˗

eddie isn’t a bad guy he’s just confrontational <3 thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider reblogging i promise it makes a huge difference <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #tangled!au

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jacespookiebear · 11 months

Text

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 8

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

You had awaken, in the arms of your husband, who was still sleeping with his arm draping over you. Turning to look at your surroundings, Meraxes still laid there by your side but only this time, Vermax had joined her. Mewling his love for Meraxes so loudly, laying on her back. You gave a smile to the dragons until your lover pressed his arm around you, keeping you more closer. Jace was stirring in his sleep, as much as you wanted to lay with him for the rest of the day, you were still outside— the sky was bright and clearer and you were riding off to Winterfell with Lysanna.

Realizing, you laid naked, with lovebites and bruises scattering your upper body and your inner thighs, you couldn’t stop the aching that was laying between your thighs, it felt uncomfortable and you knew you would have a hard time walking properly. You pressed your thighs together as you remembered what had happened last night, “Jacaerys? Wake up, you need a bath.” Gently shaking him awake, he refused to wake up. Mumbling and sleep talking, you could make up from that he is having a sweet dream. “My love? Rhaenyra might be looking for us.”

“I will wake up soon, I promise.” Jace slurred, moving to rest his head on your chest, nuzzling into the soft, warm mounds while breathing in your scent. “My love, please we must prepare our leave to the North.” urging him to wake up by tracing circles on his bare back, he began to groan at your words and finally opened his eyes and rested them onto your face. Mesmerized by your gorgeous lilac eyes, your swollen lips pressing onto his chin to give him a kiss. You escaped his tightening grasp and sat up to look for your clothes. As you searched for the gown, Jacaerys continue laying, watching, feeling proud at the marks he left on you.

“Jace,” he didn’t answer, his mind dozed off once he begun to stare.

“Jace!” Snapping out of his daydreaming, he looked over to your face, you appeared to be distraught and upset. “My gown isn’t here, it must have been picked up by the winds.” Realizing what you said, he sat up as well. You had nothing to wear, while he also had nothing to wear. You both were naked, with no clothes besides the coverings you both had taken with you.

The thought had Jace beginning to laugh hysterically, you were not laughing at all, not thinking this situation was funny. “Come on, love! Don’t worry. We still have our cloaks.” As he tried reassuring you, you only gave him an annoyed look. He grabbed your cloak and wrapped around you, making sure it was covering all of you. As for himself, he used his robes to wrap around his waist and you both began walking back to the castle, in shame, mainly you.

You quickly ran inside the castle, passing the knights in a split second, not wanting to let them see you clearly.

“Good morrow, my Prince.” The knight muttered, not trying to give any eye contact to Jace, who was quietly walking inside the castle with nothing but a robe tied around him, nodding towards the knight, making his way back to his chambers.

“Y/n! Your bath is warmed up and I am finished with-..oh.” Lysanna’s smile dropping, seeing you rushing to your chambers with just a cloak on. She quickly ran after you, to attend you.

You never felt so embarrassed until now, having to run around the castle, naked, might you had ran into your younger family members, you would have died on the spot. “Are you alright? Do you need-“ turning to face Lysanna, who shut the door on Jace’s face by accident. Immediately opening the door and saw the half-naked Prince.

The Lady Stark stared in terror, turning away to not watch anymore. You heard her letting out a screech, you rushed to bring him inside. “Forgive me, Liz! I’ll meet you in your chambers.” Ushering her to leave your chambers, she closed her eyes as she nodded, considering that would be for the best. Turning to give you a quick hug while Jace gave her an awkward small wave before she left.

Looking over to Jace, who seemed to find this whole situation rather hilarious. “That poor girl,” you mumbled, reaching by the vanity to grab the bath robes for you and your husband. “She will remember this for a long time.” Removing your cloak off your shoulders before wrapping yourself in the silky cloth, you placed Jace’s by the tub.

“I am sure she will forget,” your husband spoke, feeling bad for how indecent he was in front of your lady-in-waiting, you helped him in the bath, letting him sink in the heated water. You started to wet his arms and shoulders with a sponge that was placed by the tub. “In few days of traveling, she will see her family once again, I recall from my youth that was what Lysanna always wanted.”

Offering him a kind smile from the memory, you continued to help him bathe, sitting by the side of the tub, you noticed some sand still stuck to his skin so you quickly rinsed it off by pouring water onto his skin and rubbing it off with your hand. You grabbed some more water for the sponge to soak up, “A sweet thought, husband.” you responded, dancing your fingers over his open hand, your lover watched you as you carefully touched his palm, the one he cut open during your wedding ceremony, it seemed to have Jace reacted from how he slightly flinched from your touch, meaning the wound was still sensitive. “..Sorry..”

“Will you join me?” your lover suddenly asked, turning his head to face you. You tried to smile, you didn’t want to take longer to dress, wanting to already be out traveling to the North. Wanting to kindly refuse him, but his eyes were pleading, his pleading eyes had always worked on you. You could never say no to him when he uses them against you.

Reluctantly nodding as you sighed in annoyance, standing up from your spot on the floor, you unwrapped your robes off your body and folded it before placing it by his robes, carefully dipping in the tub that was already too small to fit more than one person, the water was rather hotter than usual but it was relaxing, you could see the steam floating above the water. Sinking more into the water, you let Jace guide you to lay on him, relaxing your head on his shoulders.

“Perhaps we should not take long,” you suggested, focusing on how he pressed kisses on your shoulder, his palms rubbing across your arms before they traveled to cup your breasts, your breath hitched. It was enough to make you feel nervous, “I don’t wish to make Lysanna wait any longer, my love.” Urging him to finish bathing, bringing your hands to hold onto his, which were still massaging your soft mounds.

While you made the effort to try cleaning the both of you, his hands continued to explore your body. “Is it wrong for me wishing to spend time with my wife?” He teased, pressing a wet kiss behind your ear, you scoffed at his question, you moved away to directly face him, bringing water to wet his hair and rub your hands into his head to massage the soap while he sat back and let you do all the work.

“I never said it was wrong,” you grinned, “but it is our honeymoon as well. Once we arrive, you can spend as much time with me.” promising him as you wiped the suds off his face. Jace finally agreed, pressing a kiss onto your lips— pulling away so you could climb out of the tub with him. You helped dressing him with the attire that Lysanna picked out that was appropriate for the weather in the North. You wore a comfortable gown that had similar designs to his attire, it’s material was suited enough to stay warm from the cold, adjusting your glove until you heard a knock on your chamber doors before opening that it revealed Lysanna who still wore a blush on her cheeks.

“I only wanted to bring news,” the look on her face was different, she usually wore a look that possessed positivity and assurance but she looked shy and embarrassed— clearly she did not want to speak of what she saw witness earlier. “The boat is ready to depart. A carriage is waiting for me on land once we arrive.”

Offering her a nod, smiling to the Lady, “Thank you, Liz. You should have left without us, we will be arriving on dragonback.” Walking towards her, linking your arm with her as you let Jace trail behind you both.

Lysanna only shook her head and smiled back, “I wanted to leave with you.” you both walked to the study hall to bid farewells to your family along with Jace. Rhaenyra placed a sweet kiss on your foreheads and hoped you would all have a pleasant stay.

“Could you bring back gifts?” Rhaena asked while Luke clinged to Lysanna, you could see tears stains on his cheeks, not wanting to be parted from Lysanna.

Reaching over to place an arm around Rhaena, she happily accepted your hug. “I’ll bring you too much gifts, your father will hate me for spoiling you so much.” Hearing you say that, Daemon let out a laugh, he was too awkward with farewells but still gave you and your husband an nod.

“Write to us once you arrive,” Rhaenyra ordered, “I want to know you had a safe arrival.”

“Of course, sister.” you answered, but still it took much reassurance from Jacaerys that he will write to her, she was still having concerns with the trip but still let you head outside of the castle. Your sister was very scared something might happen. You were heading days away from Dragonstone, it was a terrifying thought. Rhaenyra rubbed her growing stomach, watching you climb on top of Meraxes to be properly seated, as well with Jace and Vermax. Lysanna had made her way to the boat, waving to you.

Patting on her neck, signaling her to arise in the air, with the ground rumbling beneath you—Meraxes began to move, you turned to give a last wave to your elder sister.

“Please..come back to me safely.” Rhaenyra whispered to herself, trying to not stress herself even more, knowing it was bad for her and the unborn child. Watching you and Jace ascending with your dragons, she only had continued doubts clouding her mind about this trip.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You noted how cold it was in Winterfell, the snow falling from the sky, watching it fall on you and Meraxes. It was beautiful, the sceneries were mesmerizing as you took another detour around the land. The lovely trees powdered in snow and the ground crunched as Meraxes landed on the pathway to Winterfell, the sounds of Vermax’s roars filled your ears, the dragon lazily laying by the gates now happy to see Meraxes arrived. She had already been tired from the cold weather and now didn’t want to deal with the tiny clingy dragon. Seemed your husband had already arrived before you, you sure did take your time exploring the North once you had entered. Presumably took rather a bit more than a week for you to arrive, especially on Meraxes who surely was huge but lacked agilty.

You stepped down from the ropes on Meraxes, rubbing her gently on her sides, wishing she could have a warmer place to stay during your time in Winterfell. You remained your focus on your dragon until Jace pulled you away from the entrance. He was wearing a different cloak, one with thick furs and had now wore leather gloves, he placed a cloak with white furs onto your shoulders, you were no longer feeling cold but could still feel the harsh breeze from your head, your nose quickly became stuffy.

You both heard mewls from your dragons, and saw the guards at the front looked afraid to approach the majestic creatures. “I worried I had lost you, but I can see you took your time.” Patting snow off your hair, with a cheeky grin. You returned his teasing with a smile. You were so happy, you couldn’t hold your excitement any longer.

“Oh Jace! Have you seen the waterfall? The water was clear as crystals! I wish to see it once more!” Happily listing what you saw during your little exploring as your arms wrapped around his, Jace listened while you both entered inside Winterfell.

The guards inside the courtyard, held the banners that belonged to your House, announcing your titles as the people before you all kneeled, you noticed Lysanna was there, right by her Lord brother’s side. Surprised to see her already here, knowing she arrived by boat but it appeared she had been here for awhile.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, future Heir to the Iron Throne, with his wife, the Princess Y/N Targaryen, his future Queen Consort, second daughter of King Viserys, first of his name.”

Searching around the new area, the castle looked old but very beautiful. It held so much histories just like in Dragonstone. You watched Jace signal for Lord Cregan and his people to arise before approaching the tall man to greet him.

“We thank you for having us as your guests, Lord Stark.” Jace spoke warmly at the older man before they shook hands. They seemed to already be getting along.

Cregan pulled away to greet you as well, kissing your hand. You returned with an enthusiastic smile, clearly happy to be here. “Call me Cregan, my Prince. It is an honor to have you as our guests. I also wish to express my gratitude for bringing my sister along with you.” Lysanna happily gave you a hug.

“Lysanna has been nothing but good to us, I am delighted to be here in the North, Lord Cregan. The North is as beautiful as she claimed.” you expressed, your curiosity of the North had the Lord keeping his gaze on you for what felt like centuries, his continued hold on your hand went unnoticed by you and the others except the Prince.

Breaking eye contact with him, you made your way to greet his advisors, family, and the many many children that were all beside him. The young girls whispering to each other before you approached them, letting your husband continued to speak with Cregan.

“It’s the Princess! They were right, she does have silvery hair..”

“They tell stories and sing of her beauty.”

“Could I ever grow as beautiful as the Princess?”

You stared in awe by the little girls offering flowers to you, they sweetly shoved them in your direction while murmuring, “We grew these for you, Princess.” They were tulipa humilis flowers and usually were able to bloom in the snowy season. You read about them with your Septa, they were something you had wanted to see in the North. Kindly thanking the children before taking the bouquets from their small hands.

“Oh right! Brother, the gift,” Lysanna exclaims, turning to face her brother, who realized what she was speaking of. Immediately a servant came to your side, with direwolf pups in a basket. Letting out a gasp immediately, you carefully placed the bouquets in the basket before holding the pups in your arms as they continued wailing.

The pups started giving you affections by licking your cheeks, you could tell by the look on Cregan’s face that he was contented to know you were certainly enjoying the gifts. “Think of them as wedding gifts, my Prince. My sister had told me of your wife’s fascination for direwolves.”

Jace turned to watch you hand him one, the squeals you let out from the overwhelming affections the pups were giving you and your husband. You were holding onto the white furred direwolf who possessed deep blue eyes, as Jace held the black furred in his arms.

Your husband couldn’t be angry, though you both already have dragons but you were happy with the gifts. Jace felt himself beginning to warm up to the small pup in his arms, petting it gently while keeping his focus on the Lord Stark. “They are a kind gift. Your thoughtfulness is well appreciated, I can assure you.” He responded, as he begun to think of a name for the direwolf. Cregan let out a laugh and gave Jace a pat on the back.

The children watched from how you presented yourself, cooing softly at the pup in your arms, “May I suggest a name for the wolf pup, my Princess?” A little girl stepped up and approached your side before the rest of the children followed in pursuit, all began playing with the direwolf that you placed on the ground.

“Her name should be Astrid! It’s a northern name for beauty.”

“Are you mad? She should be named after a Goddess!”

“Let her be named Snow!”

“Those are all lovely names, my sweetlings.” kneeling besides the children, you and Lysanna were watching the small pup chase the children around the courtyard. Looking over to Jace who held a genuine smile, rocking the pup in his arms like he was a babe.

You began appreciating how well the trip was already starting, the snow continued falling as you started locking eyes with a girl. Around the same age as you, possessing dark brown hair and brown eyes very similar to Lysanna and her brother although she wore less fine quality clothes than the Starks. Offering her a smile, she turned her head to look away, seeming to have been embarrassed to be caught staring at you.

Your husband’s hand reached to hold your arm, making you snap back to reality. You looked at him with a dazed look before your face softened, turning to Lord Cregan, who offered a friendly smile. “Let us rest now, my love.” Jace affirmed, you were understanding that you would retire to your chambers now, it was beginning to become dark afterall.

“Oh,” You nodded, bringing your full attention towards them. “I was starting to become tired.” As you were about to head up to your chambers with your husband and the pups while Lord Cregan and Lysanna lead the way, you had waved to the children who all returned with a loud “Bye-Bye Princess!” their sweet shouts left you frowning, though you knew you would be able to see them on the next day.

“They love you, Princess.” The northern man remained a smile on his face as he spoke. “Let us have you rested for tomorrow! We will have many days until the hunt. In honor of your newly marriage. Let’s have you settle in Winterfell for now.” Nodding at his words, Lysanna beaming with excitement for the fun adventure that was in store for everyone.

Lysanna commanded the knights to bring your packed luggages, following you all to your chambers to drop off. You and your lady-in-waiting noticed how awfully close the two men became in matter of minutes. Were men so easily to befriend one another? You wouldn’t be surprised, Cregan was a very kind man from the start, his appearance may seem like he’s a man who keeps to himself but he already became quite comfortable around you and Jace after hearing nothing but good words from his sister.

You all stopped in front of a hard wooden door, much more sturdier than the doors from Dragonstone, opening up to a spacious room with a fireplace already burning by the middle of the large wall facing opposite from the large bed. Artifacts and tapestries covering the room, animal teeth laying on the table as decoration, the floor creaked as you walked inside the chambers.

“I know how much you like soft sheets to sleep on while you rest, I had my brother prepare silk sheets for the bed.” Lysanna directs your attention with patting on the soft bed, the pups seemed to follow her quickly and began chewing on the wooden corners of the bed

“That is well appreciated, Liz. Even when we’re in your home, you take such care of me.” you wholeheartedly boosted. She then shared a look with her brother— raising a brow at Cregan, which made you and Jace looked at each other with confusion.

“Perhaps this’ll be the room you will conceive your heir!”

Feeling yourself become warm at the statement, you had not expected that nor did your lover. When they saw the way both you and Jace looked flustered, Lysanna straightened herself and slapped Cregan’s shoulder from his comment. “A joke! My brother was only jesting.” Lysanna awkwardly laughed as Jace forced a smile, you were quite embarrassed enough but did not show it.

“Do not fret,” you assured, offering a hug to Lysanna, “my husband and I will surely try our best to not disturb the castle tonight.” Only trying to lighten the mood, the Warden’s laughter boomed through the chambers as he smacked Jace’s back harshly, your husband gave you a look of awkwardness.

“The Princess certainly knows how to jest!” Laughing with the siblings before they decided it was time to let you and Jace be alone, bowing their heads to you, as they left you wished them a well night’s rest.

Once the door shut, you made your way towards the luggages to find a nightgown to change into, the pups followed you and began licking at your legs. Petting them very gingerly, you hoisted them on your lap, “What shall we name them? They’ll surely make Luke and Rhaena happy.” Bringing out a beige gown, almost sheer enough that you could see the outlining of your breasts, the v neck was deep enough to have them spilling out, the length of the cozy gown stopped at your ankles and the sleeves were rather long enough to drag on the floor. It was something you would wear to rest in Dragonstone but it was rather too cold in Winterfell to be wearing just one layer of clothes, the fur blankets will surely help keep us warm, you thought to yourself.

Bringing your attention back to your lover, continuing to sit on the floor as you turned to face Jace. “Isn’t Winterfell such a beauty? I wish we could live here for the rest of our days,” you expressed, your eyes never leaving his as he walked to sit in front of you, on the side of the bed.

“My love, you only say that because we’re days away from our family.” your lover inhaled deeply, you placed you hands on his knee before laying your chin on top, looking up to him with a soft gaze.

"Not true," you insisted, Jace leaned over and begun unlacing your gown for you, "I love how peaceful the North is."

He let out a scoff from your words, a smile creeping onto his face, watching you let the dress slip off once you stand on your feet, fully bare in front of him. "We could live in a small cottage, not far from here, just us, our dragons, and our direwolves." Wrapping the dress around you, tying the wraps together before the pups could chew on the ends.

"Just us?"

Noticing the glint of happiness in his eyes, placing your hands on his shoulders, swinging your leg over him as you straddled him, leaning in slowly. "Just us, Ñuha vēzos." softly whispering in his ear before finally closing the distance between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours in a sweet yet long kiss.

You pulled away for a quick moment, helping Jace remove his heavy attire, once he was able to remove the several layers of clothing, his hands made their way on your cheeks— holding your face in his palms carefully while he took his time mesmerizing you.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" you asked.

Your lover shook his head and only placed a soft kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful, that is all.”

Smiling at the warm compliment, his affections towards you were always verbal and sentimental. “Come here, my love.” Urging him to let you wrap your bodies in the furs, it felt soft on your skin, warmth covering your bodies as you laid in bed. Jace brought you more closer in his embrace, releasing a relieved sigh— having the chance to relax after days of traveling, now laying with you.

Being away from you for even just a moment had him in agony. He could not bear another moment without you, his hold on you was more tighter but not enough to make you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. It wasn’t enough though, he wanted to be inside you once more. Just a few days before, Jacaerys finally had the chance to lay with you. He never realized until he actually done it, how addicting the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock felt, already became addicted to lapping up your pussy— greedily slurping in your juices.

He easily slipped a rough hand in the slit of your gown, pressing his thumb over your clit with pressure, the act certainly caught your attention, slowly opening your eyes and look down at your husband’s wandering hand.

“Jace…you must rest..” knowing his intentions, you still gave him a low whimper, he began to rub your little nub with much speed. Sliding his middle finger down your slit, his lips sucking on your neck felt blissful. “Why must I rest, sweet wife? When I could bury myself in your cunt instead.” Jace pulled away from your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached your clit. Hiding beneath the furs as you had wished to sleep but your lover had a different idea to spend the night together.

Your mouth was hanging open as your eyes were shut, his tongue wandered into your soaking folds, making your thighs lightly tremble around his head— fearing you might crush him with your legs wrapping around him, your fingers idly twirling the long strands of his hair as Jace continues to savor your folds with his lips and tongue. He groans occasionally, enjoying your delicious cunt.

You can feel your lover’s whole tongue, from the tip to the flattened sides, licking and suckling on your clit before replacing them with his fingers as you find yourself rocking a bit more forcefully against his face subconsciously. From the tight tugging on his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, it just drives him more crazier and slides his hands to spread your ass cheeks while you continue to grind against his face, knotting both your hands in his now messy brown hair.

Bringing his whole mouth messily from your folds to your hole before pressing his tongue firmly inside your drooling hole. He digs his nails into on your ass, and you buck against his face. Your dear husband hums happily, slurping loudly— surely anyone outside your door could hear it, hearing him drink up your sweet juices.

You can feel an orgasm starting to build up. His fingers that were on your clit continues to change pace, swapping from a circular motion to side to side direction, rapidly. Feeling yourself almost coming undone on his tongue and fingers, Jace pulls his mouth off of your cunt, as you pant loudly, confused and frustrated on why he moved away. He moved up to escape from under the furs, staring up at you with your fluids smeared all over his lips and chin— you stared back with a hazy look, still panting from the act.

“Lay on your stomach.” Jacaerys ordered, the tone of his voice almost had you withering away, scrunching up the material of your gown— lifting it up to reveal your bare lower body. You tiredly moved to lay on your stomach before he gripped your hips aggressively and lifted them up in the air. The movement surprised you, left you gasping quietly once you felt the cool air on both of your holes. Without having to wet his cock, he dragged the tip down your hole, you felt like giving out. Your elbows trembling, trying not to buck.

Jace lets out a low groan and smiles to himself as he enjoys watching you struggle to keep yourself from falling onto to pillow. “Have you ever imagined us like this before? Or perhaps thought of me claiming you before we had the chance to wed? Tell me, auntie, your sweet nephew wishes to know the truth.”

You only shook your head as you tried to speak, the way he degrades you so effortlessly, like he gets off of it, you know you shouldn’t but you let out a whine at how he called you his aunt, his cock beginning to rock against you, with his fingers stroking your nipple. He waits patiently for you to speak, not daring to insert himself just yet until he had a verbal answer from you.

“Y-yes.” You manage to pant out, feeling rather humiliated at the confession and with his hand at your breast— they had easily spilled out of your gown, he twists your left nipple while you spoke, making you moan and ultimately falling on the pillows from the pleasure. “Please..”

He ruts his hips forward sharply, dragging his wet cock tip along your aching opening, painfully slow. “Please..what?”

You whined in frustration, tears starting to spill onto your cheeks. Pathetically, you tried leaning closer to gain some more pleasure, your husband only laughed at the sight. “D-Don’t make me say it.”

From your response, he decides to tease you more, certainly he was relentless. “I can’t give you what you desire if you won’t tell me.” The change of his demeanor was shocking, not even a moment ago he was whispering sweet words in your ears.

You felt his other hand come down, adding much more pressure on your breasts, grabbing at the soft mounds painfully, pulling and slapping at them. The harsh impact did not help except only making you wetter.

“Jacaerys..!”

“Just tell me what you want, auntie.”

You could feel his tip pressing on your entrance, though he wasn’t making an effort to thrust his cock inside your wet cunt, finally deciding you had enough of his teasing. “Please, I want your cock..nephew!” Your tears mixing with your sweat, moving your head to bury your face in the pillow, but instead, Jace grabbed at your arms to lift your upper body off the bed.

He moans at how you begged. The scene of having you submit to him, was a fantasy of his for a long time. He used to fantasize of sneaking in your chambers and claiming your maidenhood right then and there. Without any warning, he bucks himself into you, completely staying in there for a moment before he began vigorously thrusting in and out of your cunt. Arching your back as your eyes roll far behind your eyelids, feeling the weight of his balls against your pussy had only increased your want in pleasure, the satisfying blazing of his girth stretching your cunt once again had you almost screaming, swearing to yourself you need to be more quieter but he’s just so big, hitting all the right spots— deep into your walls, your whole body struggling to not fall back on the bed.

You dig your hands into the sheets below you, holding on for dear life as your lover continues filling your little cunt with his massive cock. Your tears had not went unnoticed by the younger Prince, pounding into you so mercilessly as he leaned forward, taking your chin in his hand to move your head to the right to press a sweet kiss on your cheek. The sounds of skin slapping filled the huge room, driving more sweat on your bodies and your slick slowly moving down your thighs. All you could think about is how much you want to embrace him.

You’re too sensitive and his thrusts are deep and too fast, seeming to miss the feeling of penetrating you. “Ohhh..Jacaerys! You feel so good.” Broken moans slip from your dry lips, the room filled of more erotic noises and vulgar words. Clenching tightly while his cock squelches into your heat. “Fuck!” you cried out, his other hand moving to rub your helpless clit, it was too much for you.

“Oh- fuck. I won’t last long if you keep clenching me.” Jace sighs, reaching to tug at your long silvery curls, pushing you down into the bed— speeding up his thrusts, quieting your screams into the pillow, afraid that you might wake the whole castle.

He forces your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the sheets, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper, almost enough to hit your cervix. Just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself almost blacking out, you finally reached a powerful climax that had you removing your face from the pillow that was now stained with tears and drool, your body shuddering as you curl your toes, your legs shaking— you continue to clench around his cock, he pants and shuts his eyes as Jace spills himself inside of you, making sure to push his cum deep inside to not waste a drop.

Jacaerys continues to empty himself in your leaking cunt, you turned to face him, he was red faced and his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, the sight was too good, hoping to save this memory of this, not wishing to forget how ridiculously hot he looked. He caught you staring at him with half-lidded eyes and affectionately, he moved down, resting himself on your back while smothering sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your waiting mouth, using his tongue to explore your mouth while drool was spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

“I love you.” Jacaerys whispers, you nodded at his words, slowly processing what he said as you comfortably laid back down on the bed. Seemingly you tend to be quiet as a mouse after reaching your peak, his soft cock moving out of you but immediately you whimpered at the loss of his cock, protesting for him to stay inside you by rocking your hips. It was adorable to Jace, he leans again to place another sloppy kiss and slowly rubs your nub until your cries and whimpers fades and turn into soft mewls.

Your legs still prompted up in the air with your knees on the bed, you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of his cock while the mixture of your juices and his cum oozes out of your pussy, you felt aroused once more from the memory of him roughly fucking you. Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly, wanting more after your very long session that you and your husband just had.

All thoughts of having another go at lovemaking was thrown at the window once you heard the pups by the window started howling..loudly. You lifted your head to witness the small direwolves bring their head up in the air and howl until their hearts were contented.

“Will they continue all night?” you muttered, annoyed to see them starting to scratch at the glass. Your husband moved to bring a cloth and began cleaning you up as usual, bringing your legs down so you could properly lay under the soft furs, he laughed at the sight of the pups.

As he wiped you down, you moaned at the pressure he applied with the cloth against your entrance, fixing your gown as well before he reaches to find his night breeches to wear. “They’ll stop..eventually.” Jace told, happily climbing back into bed and melting into your touch.

Smiling at your lover, you pressed a lazy kiss on his forehead, reaching to push his bangs away. “Was I too rough? Do you need anything else?” Jacaerys leaned into your touch, appeared worried for you but you only shook your head and brought him close to your breasts, laying his head there as he wrapped his hand around your waist.

“No, it felt good..” you breathed out, tracing random shapes on his back, soothing him with your light touches. “Though,” you spoke up, making Jace look up with a brow raised at your questionable look.

“I believe I have disturbed Winterfell..” you whispered, rather feeling now embarrassed. Jacaerys let out a quiet chuckle, leaning his cheek to caress your soft skin. You both were tired, exhausted, and aching.

Having no energy to keep the conversation going, you realized your husband has now passed out on your breasts. With the howling in the background, you continued tracing on his back until you were able to also find sleep.

“Goodnight, my love.” you whispered, kissing the top of his head before you closed your eyes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I delayed writing this for some reason my bad, I got summer school now😒 but anyways I can’t I wrote more smut EARLY HAHAHA but oh well.

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