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casualhedonists · 2 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter six)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, mild bondage, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 6/6

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: .......13.5k

a/n: WHEW what a wait. thank you, as always, for your patience this past month or so! as i’ve mentioned i’ve been busy as hell, but it is with many internal screams that i can say! welcome to the final chapter of this series!! what a ride we've all had these last few months! buckle up for like. essay length extensive smut and also plot. in varying order. as always, feedback makes my world spin round at rocket speed, and just. thank you guys for all the love ever since i posted chapter one last november (november me with a brand new sideblog had no clue this would become a Thing i finished let alone a Thing people liked!! that's all on you lovely humans. ily)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

Heaven was his head between your thighs.

His hands on you, everywhere. Hot mouth pressed to your skin, your neck, your thighs, your cunt. He was slow. Thorough. Pulling cries out of your mouth that got louder and louder until your back arched on the bed and you lay slumped and panting, twisted in his sheets. Taken apart and stitched right back together.

It hadn’t started like this. Not even close.

You woke to a soft light on your face, the curtains parted slightly. Your throat felt sore, and you were tired. Body heavy, slumped across a bed. His. It came back to you in fragments. The party. The photograph. His hand in your hair. His eyes after, apologetic and pleading. Falling asleep right here, next to him, but there was nobody beside you anymore. Your eyes adjusted to the room; you’d never seen it at this time of day, with sunbeams lighting up the walls. You could hear a soft tapping sound, like rain on the windowsill, but it was a bright and sunny spring day out.

Typing. That’s what it was.

Steady, satisfying clicks as the typewriter punched ink onto paper. You turned your head towards the desk across the room.

Coriolanus was sat there, focused, a breakfast tray pushed to one side. He didn’t notice you for a while, and you rolled over to take him in, a slight squint in his eye as he concentrated. You pulled your tired body up and leaned against the pillows, and he turned.

“Morning.” He said in surprise.

“Hi.”

This was strange. Like a warped sense of a morning after.

“Coffee?” He offered. “It’s still hot, I think.”

“Please.”

As he stood to pour from the French press, you took a look around you, eyes landing on the nightstand. A glass of water stood tall next to the silver chain he’d given you last night.

So innocent. If someone took a peek through a crack in the wall, they’d think you were a perfectly normal couple. Domestic bliss.

Not so much, you thought, as he walked over and handed you a cup.

He didn’t linger, but sat down at the foot of the bed, and that only made things stranger. He’d never been one to shy away from physical proximity, but here you both were, sipping just-hot coffee as he eyed you carefully. Like you were an animal in an enclosure, and he hadn’t quite figured out which approach to take with you yet.

“Are you working on something?” You nodded toward the cluttered desk.

“Just the usual. Work.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you worked in here.”

“I don’t, usually. Never have, in fact.” He sounded sheepish. This was entirely new. “But I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Oh.

You said just that.

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

“I can go if you’d like. Leave you to rest.”

“No, that’s okay. Stay.”

His eyes softened a little, shoulders sinking down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You considered. You hadn’t really thought much about it.

“Tired, I think. This is helping. Thank you.” You sipped at the cup of coffee, careful not to spill it on his sheets. An oddly comfortable silence hung in the air.

“I called Cordelia. She’s coming over this afternoon, we can figure it all out. Print a story you’re happy with.”

“Wait, what? We don’t have an appointment for three more weeks.”

He glanced awkwardly at the floor, and cleared his throat.

“I thought you’d want to make it as quick as possible. It will be, and it won’t shine badly on you. I’ll get Lucille to pack your things, and if you don’t want to go back to your parents, I’d be happy to put you up somewhere in the city for as long as you’d like. It’s the least I could do after everything that I-”

“Coriolanus, stop.” You shook your head, bewildered.

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

He paused.

“Of course.”

“How the hell are you meant to know what I want if you’ve never asked me?”

He frowned, eyes darting from the floor, to you, to the floor again.

“I… Well, I assumed that-”

“Don’t assume.” You interrupted. “God, when will you stop assuming you know what’s best for me? It’d be nice to feel like I have a say in this. Don’t you see that if we do this, we’ll just end up right back where we started? I don’t want that, do you?”

“Doll, I think this would be for the best.”

“Why, am I getting too difficult for you now? You got someone new lined up ready to take my place? Someone less complicated? More complacent?” You snapped.

“Of course not, it’s not that.”

“Then why? Why do you want me gone? Because it’s pretty damn clear that you do from where I’m sat.”

He sighed, turning to face you, but looking at your lap. You gripped the cup with a vice, like you were trying to snap off the handle. You placed it on the nightstand.

“I’ve just been wondering if this has become about something… else, to you. and I wanted to say that if that’s the case, this can’t continue. Because… well, I’ve grown fond of you, and it isn’t fair to keep you hoping.”

Your confusion softened your sharp edges.

“Hoping for what?”

For whatever reason, he didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Hoping that… I can give you something I don’t think I’m capable of. Or at least, not anymore. It’s not fair on you. I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly is it that I need?”

He shifted, looking awkwardly to the floor. At first, your frown only deepened, then it hit you. A knowing smile crept onto your face.

“Oh my god… you think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His frown only widened your grin. you were pretty sure you must’ve looked insane. Despite yourself, you let out a laugh, and his frown only deepened.

“When you… you’ve been upset lately. The other week at the luncheon, and then last night, I thought it was-”

“That I was, what, in love with you?”

A cocky, shit eating grin now took over your face.

He started a sentence, but stopped himself. You could see it on his face; he was completely thrown.

“So you’re not.” He checked.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, Snow. ‘Course not. That’s never what this was about, I mean, we have rules for a reason. Sure, we’ve been breaking them like it’s our day job, but not the golden one. Never the most important.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked a little sheepish.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” you repeated, “I’m not in love with you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His shoulders sank down, like he was relieved.

“I see. That’s good, that’s… for the best.”

“So will you cancel Cordelia?”

“Okay. If that’s what you want., it’s done.”

You nodded.

“See, this is better. It’s a lot easier when you ask me things. And I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t exactly been the most talkative either.”

“It’s not exactly our strong suit.” He agreed.

“Yeah. You know, while we’re on the topic, there’s something else you can do for me.”

“Anything.”

“You can run me a bath. A hot one. With bubbles.” You added.

It was slight, but you saw it. He perked up.

“Okay, doll.”

The bath was hot, and it smelt like the softer parts of him, like fresh linen and the spice of his cologne. Again, he didn’t linger, just ran the bath, saw you into the room and let you be. It was frustrating – while it was nice to soak in the hot water and feel your muscles relax, you wished he would just talk to you, instead of acting like you were something to avoid, something to walk on eggshells around. This change in his demeanour wasn’t a completely unwelcome one – you didn’t mind feeling as though you had the upper hand, and held all the cards for once – but you didn’t like being treated like you were broken, either.

You sank your head underneath the bubbles and stayed down there for a few seconds, the rush of water clouding your eardrums. It was a peaceful kind of noise, and when you came back up for air, you found yourself breathing a little easier.

You pondered. Processed, considering the steps to take next, rolling your neck out and stretching your feet to the edge of the tub. Anytime you thought you’d reached any sort of plateau with Coriolanus, something new would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t minded the danger at first, it drew you in and kept you hungry for more, but you’d grown tired, weary from the whiplash knotting your neck.

When the water cooled, you looked around, but couldn’t see a towel. You cleared your throat.

“Snow?” You called out.

Soft footsteps. Then, his voice from behind the door.

“Everything okay?”

“I just need a towel. I can’t see one near me.”

“They’re in the linen closet in the corner.”

You eyed the floor between the tub and the closet.

“I’d have to get out and drip bathwater all across the floor. Can you just come in here and hand me one?”

Silence.

“Please?” You added.

More silence. Then he quietly cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. I’m coming in, I won’t look.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

The door cracked open and he made a short beeline to the closet, unfolding a towel and holding it out. When he walked to the side of the tub, he looked off to the side like the colour of the walls was suddenly the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You pulled yourself out of the water, shivering as the cold air hit you. Then you backed into the towel and took it from him, wrapping it around yourself, sinking into the soft cotton. He stood behind you, paused, seemingly suspended in place and unable to move. You heard him draw in a breath, inches from the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. His breath caught on the droplets of water gathered on your skin, and it warmed you and gave you a chill at the same time.

“I know you are.”

Then in a flash, you spun around, lips on his, hungry. He kissed you back like he had something to prove, and hell, maybe he did. His hands tangled in your wet hair and yours made for his shirt. The towel slipped to the floor and fell in a pile at your feet. One button came open, you broke the second, which flew into the air and landed on the floor with a tap. He pulled you in closer, hands all over you, and you worked frantically at the third, not caring if it broke, not caring about anything.

“Doll.”

You looked up at him, at his blown-out eyes.

“Want you to fuck me.” You breathed.

“I can’t.”

You jolted to a stop, catching your breath. He took a step back.

“What?”

He pulled in slow breaths, like he was trying to cool himself off. His eyes pressed shut.

“Not like this. Not until I know you trust me again. I don’t… I can’t hurt you again. I won’t do that. I need you to forgive me first. Completely.”

You exhaled slowly, then cleared your throat, lowering to the ground to pick the damp towel off the tiles. When you came back up, half-covered, he was staring at a spot on the wall again, breath laboured.

You tied the towel around you, and looked right at him as he looked away, eyes averted.

“You sure about that, Snow?” you drawled. “You sure as hell don’t look it.”

He swallowed thickly.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll just be in the bedroom.”

You brought your hand to your lips, brushing over where he’d just kissed them once he’d turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. You eyed your pile of clothes with disdain.

He was back at his desk when you walked out, wrapped in a shirt he’d offered you, hair towel in hand. He didn’t look as focused on his work this time.

“I cancelled Cordelia. So don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you.” You made for the bed, and climbed back onto it. “Rather just talk to you anyway.”

His jaw tensed. It seemed he was still doing everything in his power not to look at you.

“You know, there’s this thing called eye contact. Remember that thing Cordelia waffles on about? It’s important when you’re having a conversation with somebody. I’m a big fan, myself.”

His eyes shot daggers at you. But at least he was looking.

“And what did you want to talk about, exactly?”

You shrugged, and he glanced back at the desk, and pretended to study one of the papers there.

“I don’t know. All of this, I guess.”

Much to your annoyance, he didn’t answer. Your eyes swept the room again, and you brought the towel to your hair. The sun was high enough now to light up the silver chain on the nightstand, and you took it in your palm, turning it over.

“Did you mean it when you said I could have this?” You wondered aloud.

He looked at you again.

“Wasn’t sure if you remembered that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Then I meant it.” His words shouldn’t have made you smile, but they did.

“Will you put this on me?” You asked.

“Uh. Sure.”

The chair creaked as he pushed it back from underneath him, and he walked over to you cautiously, perching on the bed, taking the dog tag, then ever so gently brushing your hair to one side.

“Can I just ask-”

“Anything.” He said quickly.

The cool metal slid onto your chest as he secured the chain, falling low.

“When you were out there, did you…” you swallowed.

Say it.

“…hurt people?” You praised your voice for not shaking. The silence in the room was deafening. But he finally answered.

“I did what was necessary.”

“It must’ve been awful.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was.”

“Do you think about it much?”

“More than I care to admit. But it was a long time ago.”

You turned to face him.

“Doesn’t make it less real. I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. What matters is that I’m here now.”

You smiled.

“You didn’t get too bad of a deal of it either, President Snow.”

He put your hair back into place, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“I certainly didn’t.”

You thumbed the cold steel, an odd feeling of satisfaction washing over you.

“Was it worth it?” Your voice sounded quiet, even to you. You were fully aware of the weight of the question, heavier still from the complete understanding that you barely knew what you were asking.

“Yes.”

It should’ve scared you, the surety in his voice. But it didn’t.

Warm breath caressed your shoulder blade, and it really shouldn’t comfort you, but it did. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you. For putting it on. I always get these things tangled.”

“My pleasure. I meant what I said though, sweetheart. No wearing it where anyone’ll see, okay? I need you to promise me.”

You turned your head, shifted so you faced him. You suddenly realised just how close your faces were, and your voice dropped low.

“I promise. It’s nothing new. We’re no strangers to secrets, you and I.”

Your noses were almost touching, and he was looking down at your lips. You drew in a breath, and inched in impossibly closer. You felt his breath on your lips, hot and shallow. Your nose bumped his.

And then his lips were on yours again. But just as quickly, he pulled away.

“Don’t.” You pleaded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t. Not until I’ve fixed this. Please, just… tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You sighed, pulling away.

“This is what I want, Snow. But…”

“Yeah?”

“I just… never knew it would get so complicated. I think for now, maybe I need a little time.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

“I might go home over this weekend. Spend some time with my parents. No tricks, okay? No messengers, no word from you, the entire time. I’ll come back here on Monday morning, and I’ll tell you what I’ve decided then.”

He nodded.

“That’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “So you’ll leave tomorrow morning?”

“If that’s okay.”

He seemed as satisfied as one would expect with that solution.

“Yes. Of course, anything you want.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked a little disappointed by the formality.

“And Snow?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Before I go, will you lie next to me for a little while?"

It was oddly intimate, the way the day stretched on. He lay next to you for a while, and you sank into the sheets and eventually dozed off. When you woke, he was still there, quietly tapping at the typewriter and poring over paperwork. You spent the rest of the day in his room, in bed mostly, with food being brought up to you which you shared in mutual silence or casual conversation. Lucille packed your bags, and you spent the night in his bed, a little distance between you. But when you woke up, you had to slowly pull away your woven limbs.

Leaving was a quiet affair. Snow gave you a chaste kiss goodbye, and Henry snuck you and your bags through the back exit and kept to backroads, so nobody would know who you were or where you were going. Your parents didn’t know why you were visiting either; they didn’t need to. As far as anyone was concerned, you were taking a short weekend trip to check in with your family.

The two days passed quickly. You spent the time reflecting, debating what your next move would be, and listening to your parents argue. You found yourself glancing at the clock by Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday night you were practically crawling out your skin ready to leave. You considered what he’d offered you; an apartment on your own, somewhere in the city. But the thing is, you’d grown used to his moods, to just having him around, if only to dig your fingers into and pry open, searching for secrets. Life would feel awfully dull without it. You’d never met someone who was a match for you, who challenged you. You wondered if he felt the same.

Monday morning rolled around and you let out a heavy sigh of relief as you climbed into the car. Henry glanced back at you, but didn’t comment.

The second the manor came into sight, your head clouded with doubt. Would he want you to stick around? You’d spent the last couple of days toying with all outcomes like some omniscient god, but until now you hadn’t considered the fact that Snow might’ve done some thinking through of his own.

But as you pulled up at the side door, there he was. Standing perfectly poised, waiting for you, and all your worries washed away as he looked at you. Henry opened the door, and Coriolanus offered his hand as you stepped out the car. He looked at you with the same intensity as he had that very first night in his room, when you’d finally dropped the charade, and you returned the stare. Even just feeling his hand on yours set your skin on fire.

When you finally got inside and it was just the two of you, he stopped you.

He looked regal before, proud and superior. Now, you could tell it was a façade, laced with a nervous discomfort.

“Well?” He prompted.

You looked at him. Took in the way his eyes couldn’t stay in one place for too long, the tightness in his jaw that only appeared when he was under pressure, and the slight urgency seeping through his otherwise controlled question, and realised then that you hadn’t been the only one going a little insane these past few days.

And now, you had the upper hand again.

“Upstairs,” you answered. “Your room.”

When the door closed behind you and he paced towards the desk, you almost smiled at the parallel. It felt like an age ago that you’d strutted in here, dressed in his suit jacket with something to prove. You knew the cards you were about to play now like you had then, but your thoughts still raced.

Snow cleared his throat.

“So? Have you made up your mind?”

You waited for him to turn and face you.

“I have.”

“And?” So quick to reply. You’d never heard him so on edge.

You wet your lips, taking a step towards him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying stretching this out a little, watching him squirm.

“I’ve decided that… I’m staying.” You said finally.

He let out an audible breath, almost like he didn’t care about you hearing his reaction anymore. Like he’d been strung out the entire weekend, just like you. Like he’d imagined this conversation in a million different ways. He stepped towards you. This was an old dance; one you knew well. You closed the gap between you, and his hand grazed your jaw.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He said. You held his gaze, he brushed your lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Can I…” His voice dropped.

“Not just yet.”

You relished the little frown that knitted his brows.

“I know you, Snow.” You continued. “You’re good at what you do. You’re better at this than anyone out there. You’re dedicated, and I think that… something tells me you’re going to be President for an awfully long time. I want to be by your side when that happens. I’m not going away when this arrangement suits me too. But I have terms.”

He watched you as if he was mesmerised, and you wondered if he even noticed the way you slowly walked him towards the bed. You hid your smile as the spell broke, and the back of his legs bumped the ottoman. He gazed down at your lips, just a little thrown off kilter.

“Tell me.”

You got closer, lifting your hands to the lapels of his shirt and giving them a tug, turning him so you were stood against the ottoman and he was facing you. He moved so easily, as if this was a dance, one you’d practiced a hundred times over.

“Let’s start with this. You said you’d do anything for my forgiveness, right?”

“I meant it.”

“Good.” You nodded, “Because there is something you can do for me.” Your hand traced his jaw, and he leaned into it.

“Name it.” He whispered, lips pressing against your palm. “It’s yours.”

You leaned towards him, faces close, noses touching, foreheads pressed together. You could feel the almost on your lips, could feel his breath. You relished in the feeling, that electric tension between the two of you. You held onto it, inhaled it like smoke, before cutting it loose.

“Kneel.” You breathed.

Feeling his brows twitch gave you a rush, and when you pulled back, he looked like art. You slowly moved down, sitting on the ottoman, holding his gaze. Then slowly, steadily, like he was walking a gossamer-thin tightrope, he shifted, nudging your legs open to stand between them, and lowered himself down to the floor, knees gently knocking against the hardwood one at a time. You give him a slow nod.

“Like that. Good. Stay there.”

Your legs parted a little further, and his eyes lined up with the way your dress lifted, bunching at your hips, exposing black lace with white trim, barely covering the space he seemed to lean towards.

He wet his lips, glancing up at you. Eyes bright but laden with want, so heavy he thought he might drown in it.

“Can I…” He whispered, and you felt it more than heard it, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

You smiled a little, and shook your head.

“Fuck. Please, doll.”

“Did I ask you to beg?”

“No. But… what can I do?”

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you considered.

“You can take these off. Slowly.”

You sighed when his palms brushed your hips, pushing your dress up then hooking soft fingers into the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them over your hips and down your thighs. He was gentle, pulling back but staying oh so close to you as he pulled the lace past your ankles, tossed it to the side, and moved in again expectantly.

“And now?”

You pushed your legs apart again, just enough. Drew in a breath.

“I want you to watch.”

A sound slipped from his mouth, and you weren’t sure if it was just a shaky breath or a quiet curse. His eyes darted between your face and the heat between your thighs. If you couldn’t already feel the mess you’d made, the way his lips parted and his eyes went heavy-lidded would give it away in an instant.

His gaze followed your hand, unwavering as you slowly brought it between your legs, and lazily trailed your fingers towards where you were aching to be touched. Then with a gasp, you brushed your finger against your clit and starting drawing slow circles, slipping further down to push against your opening, slipping through the mess you’d made just from seeing him knelt on the hardwood.

You kept your head tilted back and your eyes closed, touching yourself with Snow knelt between your legs incredibly brazen, even for you. He was mere inches away, laboured breath dusting the skin of your inner thighs.

But as you melted into the feeling, sinking deeper than you could imagine in just a few short seconds, you opened them again. And there he was, darkened eyes fixed on where your fingers ran messy circles on your cunt, and you let out a soft whine. It was enough to make him redirect his stare to your face, and you couldn’t help but stare back, pressing harder against your clit with a broken sigh. You planted your feet on the floor as you shifted your hips a little, getting slightly closer, making it easier for you to carefully swirl a finger around your entrance, then gently push inside.

��Fuck.” He breathed, rocking forward slightly, to which you shook your head, knee pressing against his shoulder, pushing him back. His pleading eyes drove you on, pushed you to fuck yourself faster, obscene wet noises filling the quiet space.

He looked wrecked; lips parted, eyes begging, glancing up at you. And it only made you all the more shameless, bucking your hips and crying out, gasps slipping from your mouth that you couldn’t deny were getting played up a little for effect. He stared on, looking so fucking small between your legs, so hard you could only imagine it hurt.

You weren’t sure if he noticed he was breathing in tandem with you, but as your breaths picked up, got a little strained, so did his. His eyes slitted, heavy with lust as he stared on.

You got a little cocky; let it go to your head. Nothing would ever beat the rush of adrenaline you felt from seeing the most powerful man you’d ever known giving into you, letting you set the rules. It was intoxicating.

“You okay down there, sweetheart?”

He sighed, slow and heavy.

“I…” He trailed off, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is there something you need?” Your voice was breathier than you would like, control slipping from your fingertips, but it was still there and the way he looked up at you. His mouth opened again, jaw agape, on his knees like it was a silent prayer. You fucked yourself faster, mean, dripping down your fingers. He finally spoke.

“Please.” He whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I said -” he swallowed “- I said please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me touch you. Put my mouth on you, I won’t even use my hands. Just let me… baby. Come on.” His voice was raspy and ruined.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet? I’m not so sure.”

His breath was shallow, eyes wide and blown out.

“I’ll prove it to you. Just let me touch you, and I’ll do anything you want. Please, doll.”

You hummed, pretending to weigh it up in your head.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely. Go ahead. But keep your hands to yourself.”

“Thank you. Fuck. Thank you, baby.”

He listened, inching in cautiously, like he was expecting you to change your mind, then he pressed his mouth to you and there it was.

Heaven.

“Oh fuck.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

You hummed as he dragged his tongue over your folds, setting your nerves alight, instinctively rocking into the pressure you’d been thinking about since you got him on the floor. His hands, you noted, sat dutifully on his thighs, gripping onto them like it took a physical reminder for him not to reach out and grab your hips, push his fingers into your soft skin and own you.

As welcome as that sounded to your foggy mind, this was about proving a point. You were the one calling the shots here. So you rocked gently against his face as he kissed your clit, lapping at the heat between your legs, only pulling away at intervals to catch his breath, the daylight making the mess on his chin glisten, only to dive back in again, movements slightly limited by the lack of his hands, which you could see was bothering him.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little between gasps.

“I have to say I missed this. Seeing you underneath me.”

He looked up at you. But there was little defiance in his eyes, just want. Want so depraved that it sent a flush through you, making you feel a little unmoored.

“If I didn’t know better, Coryo, I’d say you were enjoying this.”

Face buried between your thighs, a broken whine sent a little shock through your core. You moaned, getting a little strung-out, a little breathy.

“Is that a yes?”

You felt him nod.

“Good. Glad to see you’re putting up less of a fight this time. It wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Giving in?”

This time, his eyes contained a little more fire. He pushed his tongue firmer against your clit, cutting off your question with a gasp. A few moments passed, and you heard him hum.

“Is there something you want to say, baby? Go ahead.”

He pulled back, catching his breath again.

“Still don’t want me to use my hands?”

You shook your head.

“Then can you… if it’ll feel better.” He glanced at your hand, resting lazily on your thigh.

“What?” You knew what he was getting at, but he shot you back a look as if to say, don’t make me say it.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Then say it.”

“Put your hand in my hair. You can… be rough, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Your smile turned into a sly grin.

“You want me to pull your hair? You sure?”

“I’m sure. I don’t… I liked it, last time.” He confessed quietly.

“Liked what?” You pushed.

He took a steady breath, looking down at the velvet seat you were perched on. He gritted out the words steadily, pointedly.

“When you sat on my face. I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

“I know you did.”

He paused, looking down at the floor. Then he looked back up. You brought your hand to his hair, fingers running through the soft strands. He started peppering kisses along the insides of your thighs, something he’d been too desperate to consider when you’d first given him permission to taste you. Now, they sparked the fire even more, and as much as you liked the careful attention, you guided his head to where you needed it. Keeping his words in mind, you gave a slightly rough tug on his hair, and he responded with a pained hum that edged you closer.

At one point, you saw his hand shift to try towards his pants, but you yanked his hair in response.

“No touching yourself yet. Or I’ll only let you watch, okay?”

You built up a rhythm, growing careless with the tugs on his hair so that you felt pressure in all the right places. Your fingers pulled harder as you got close, and you could hear his shallow breath as you took what you wanted from him.

“Fuck. Coryo, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. You wanna make me cum?”

He nodded as best as he could with your hand gripping tight in his hair, and the motion only brought you closer, legs growing weak and tired, hooking over his shoulders now that you’d let him closer. You felt the ache build, almost painful with how long it had been, and you felt yourself snap, spinning out of control as your hand tensed, then fell from his hair. Then his hands were on you, gently this time, smoothing over your bucking hips with a level of control that you melted into as the feeling washed over you. He didn’t stop, pressing his tongue against you harder as you fell apart, shaking like a leaf as he worked your cunt until your cries bordered on screams.

“Fuck. Oh my god, that’s it, I’m…” You broke off into a shout, something so outlandish it sounded foreign to your own ringing ears, but you were too far gone to care. You could vaguely feel yourself grabbing at him as he pulled away, at his hair, his hands, anything, as you slumped back onto the bed. Slowly, he propped himself up, placing a knee between your legs and leaning over you. And his eyes, heavy and wanting, had you aching all over again.

He held back a little, clearly still in the space you’d pushed him into.

“Can I…” He whispered, those desperate eyes fixed on your parted lips as you caught your breath.

“Yeah.” You gasped, and he lowered his head towards you.

This time, he kissed you softer. Still hungry, still wanting, but slow, methodical, like he wanted to relish it. Almost like he wasn’t trying to own you, but in that moment, you could almost go so far as to believe the contrary. And your head swam with pride, feeling his lips on yours as he gently pressed you into the soft mattress.

But you didn’t sit in the feeling for too long.

“Was that okay?” He gasped.

“Yeah. More than okay. But you used your hands at the end there, baby. You know what that means?”

His eyes narrowed as his head cleared a little.

“Lie on your back for me.”

He obliged, dropping onto the mattress and shuffling up to lean against the pillows.

“I missed you, you know.” You murmured as you followed suit, hovering over him to get another kiss.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. Thought I was gonna go out of my fucking mind with how much.”

“Yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

“I hoped not. Glad I was right.”

You smiled again, and shifted closer towards him.

“I could always show you how much I missed you, if you wanted.” Your eyes darted down to the front of his pants, the outline of his hard cock pressing against the material. He went a little quiet again, nodding a little, and you grinned. Climbed onto your knees so you were just a little above him, then swung a leg over one of his to sit carefully on his thigh. You paused for a beat.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me to, baby.”

He sucked in a breath.

“You can touch me.”

You tutted.

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He added quickly.

Without a word, you leaned in, brushing a hand over his cock, starting gentle, but quickly adding pressure. You could tell he was holding back, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering as he tried to control his breath.

“Not getting shy on me again, are you?”

He didn’t answer, just met your eye and you took it as a challenge. Unbuttoned his slacks and with a glance and a nod, slid them down his legs. You licked your palm slow, making sure he was watching closely.

“Fuck.” He breathed.

“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me properly, I’m just gonna have to work harder then, aren’t I?” You drawled as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers. There was a soft thump as his head dropped back onto the headboard and he cursed as your fingers grabbed the base of his cock.

“Like that?” Your mouth pulled into a sly smile.

He hummed, breaking off into a sigh, lips parted and eyes towards the ceiling as you fisted his cock. I’ll take that as a yes.

You swirled your thumb around the head of his cock, gathering messy precum that had gathered at the tip from your teasing, and it hit you then that most of your interactions until now had been psychological, toying with words, with ideas and almosts. You knew by now what made him tick, which words you could use to push him to the edge, but you’d barely had the chance to touch each other. But you were a fast learner, and you knew what you wanted from this.

You wanted to make him fall apart.

So you picked up the pace, and it must’ve ached with how fast you were fucking his cock with your fist, but his determination not to lose his cool made it all the more exciting. It got wet, and that was one thing his composure couldn’t hide. It egged you on, shifting your own hips on his tensing thigh as your sore cunt pressed against the muscle.

“You can hold back all you like, but I can tell you’re fucking close.”

His eyes fell shut in a lust-clouded haze, breath picking up. His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned. You were tempted to take it down your throat, really see how he held up then, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction just yet, and you were on a high learning just how to make his body respond to your touch, how to make him weak. So you worked your wrist and felt his legs jolt a little, and you knew it was a matter of seconds.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to ask nicely. I don’t know how generous I’m feeling just yet. Convince me.”

“Jesus.” He gasped.

“No, just me. Go on, baby. Beg me. You wanted to earlier, right? Now’s your chance.”

An honest-to-god whine left his mouth, voice cracked and completely fucking ruined. You slowed your motions.

“No, baby, don’t stop. I’m so fucking close, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum. I fucking need it, I did everything you said, I got on my knees, I fucking… fuck, I did what you told me, didn’t I? Everything you asked? And I didn’t touch myself, I haven’t… fuck. All weekend, I haven’t-”

You pressed your lips together.

“Poor thing. You��ve gone this whole weekend without cumming?”

“I was a little fucking preoccupied.” He gritted out.

“Over little old me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he repeated, “I need to cum. I did what you wanted, doll, I- shit-”

Satisfied, you picked the pace up again, obscene wet sounds filling the room as his hips rocked a little into your hand as he got close again. Too far gone now to hold back, his face contorted in pleasure, eyes fixed on you. Then, in a seemingly small motion as you leaned into him a little, the dog tag that had been sitting tucked under your dress - and had stayed hidden against your skin all weekend - slipped out, the pendant swinging into the air beneath you, and as Coriolanus caught sight of it, you felt his hips tense, then his cock was twitching and spilling into your hand.

“Shit, that’s so… oh my fucking god, doll.”

You pulled your hand from his boxers and brought it to your mouth, cleaning it off a little.

“You really did need that, huh?” You smirked, and he sighed.

“Yeah. I really fucking did.”

You nodded at his boxers.

“Can I take these off now?”

He pressed his head into the headboard again and nodded, so you carefully pulled them down his legs. Panting and overheated, he unbuttoned his shirt as you threw the fabric to the floor. What he didn’t expect you to do, though, was put your hand back on his still-twitching cock that sat tired and used against his stomach. He flinched a little as you palmed it, and you looked at him mischievously. Started to move your hand again, slow and steady, but firm.

“That’s… baby. Stop, I already came, I… fuck.” He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled, voice turning a little dangerous.

“Oh, you thought we were done?”

“Doll, that’s not – shit – that’s not fucking funny. It’s sensitive, I…” It turned into an uncomfortable hum, but you felt him twitch under your palm, slowly getting hard again. His leg gave a little involuntary kick, much to your satisfaction.

“I… what the fuck.” His voice went quiet and strained, and yours got menacing.

“Oh, you can take it, can’t you? Thought you said you liked me taking the lead a little. You can handle it, can’t you, Snow? Or do you want me to stop?”

“Mm. That’s… was different. Please.” You kept going, a rush washing over you as you wondered if he even knew what he was begging for. You got more daring, rubbing your palm over the tip, and grinned when he cried out.

“You want me to stop? Just say the word. I will.”

He was half-hard again, more cum leaking from his tip as you sped up just a little.

Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head frantically as the rest of him trembled.

“Didn’t think so.”

His face was twisted like he was holding on desperately, trying to maintain control as you relished in his permission, and palmed him harder.

“Jesus fuck.” He said, voice getting louder now, legs twitching and hips bucking up in little jolts you were certain he couldn’t stop if he tried. You had him now, pliable like clay between your fingertips, shaking apart.

“Is that too much for you?” You taunted, getting cocky now.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snapped, but it fell flat when his voice broke halfway through the question. You laughed.

“I know exactly who I am, Snow. I’m the girl you’re gonna be stuck with for a long time, and I’ve got some demands to make. So listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You know what happened last week?” You were aware you were starting to sound almost as insane as him, but you didn’t care.

“You don’t ever,” you spat, “do that to me again. If you do, I swear on all of Panem, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

He whined, desperate, so far gone you weren’t sure he was fully listening.

“Say you fucking understand.”

“I… I understand. Fuck. Please. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance. From here on out, you only get to treat me like a whore when I tell you to. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, okay. I understand. I’m… shit.”

“This is a partnership, starting now. We help each other. We trust each other. We talk to each other. We don’t go behind each other’s backs, or fuck around with other people. Okay?”

“Okay. That’s… doll, can you slow down just a little? You’re… I’m…”

“You’re gonna cum again?”

He nodded, chasing his breath. You leaned towards him, lowering your head to his chest and dragging your tongue against his collarbone.

“Good. You can cum again, Coryo.”

“Thank you. Thank you - fuck. That feels… I’m-”

“You gonna cum all over my hand again, baby? Do it, I’ve got you. You can cum now.”

The second time he came was with a pained cry, painting your hand until it dripped down your wrist and onto his stomach. When you finally released your grip, he slumped down and sighed, aftershocks still jolting through him.

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I understand.”

“Good.” You murmured into his ear, and you felt goosebumps rise on his torso, “Then I think we can come to an agreement.”

The week went by in a blur of whispered words and tangled limbs. He rarely left you alone, and you barely felt the time pass, every waking moment spent together, flesh on flesh. When he worked, it was at the small desk in his room, and he took plenty of breaks to lounge in bed with you or run you baths.

You learned each other’s tells, growing comfortable touching each other, but Snow stuck to his word, much to your annoyance.

Not until you trust me again, he’d said. Wasn’t it clear enough by you staying?

You’d all but moved into his room, sending Lucille back and forth with hampers for your clothes, which now hang in one side of his closet, or sat folded in his previously empty drawers. You felt closer to him than you ever had before, and the two of you had skin littered with bruises which made you grateful you didn’t have any public functions to attend for quite a while. He’d stopped leaving you to go into the city and work, instead managing people from afar, and letting them get on with their jobs so he could weed out the weakest links.

For the first time, it felt a little like he was yours. Or as much yours as he possibly could be. And as you spent more time together, not just half-dressed and desperate, but talking, really talking, you slowly started to feel like you could be his, too.

“Tell me it feels better than he did. When you were together.” He whispered one morning, when you’d not long woken up and he’d immediately ducked under the covers to get between your thighs. He paused, fingers inside you, looking at you intently, and at first you were confused as to what he meant. You heard the tinge of vulnerability in his voice, and took the cue.

“You really think you deserve that? After everything?”

“No.” He whispered, eyes dropping down again.

“So what do we say?”

“Please.”

“One more time for me.”

He spoke up, voice gorgeously wrecked.

“Please. Tell me it’s better.”

“That’s good. And since you’re being good, I’ll tell you. He didn’t…” you swallowed, catching yourself, “He didn’t really like doing that. what you’re doing.” Your facade cracked a little and you glanced off to the side, not sure what reaction you were expecting.

“Really?” His voice was dumbfounded. It made you laugh.

“You know, Snow, a lot of guys don’t. They’re lazy about it. Want to get it over with, get to the real thing.”

A wide smile pulled at his lips, wolfish.

“Who wouldn’t want to do this?”

“Easy for you to say, handsome.”

He grinned wider.

“Can I try something?”

“I don’t know. will I like it?”

“I think we both will.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay, Coryo.”

His smile only deepened, pulling into an excited smirk as he gripped your hips once more, lightly kissing your thighs as he got closer to where you wanted him.

You gasped as his tongue worked you, and when you came, he kept going, easing up only after you’d fallen apart more times than you could keep count.

“Can’t believe you still won’t fuck me.” You pouted one day, as he sat at the desk with a pen in hand, scratching against paper.

He turned around to face you.

“I told you why. Not until-”

“I trust you again, I know. But how do you know that? I could trust you just fine and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“I’ll know.”

You hummed.

“Or,” you started, slipping off the bed and pacing towards him, “you could just fuck me now and call it square.”

He chuckled.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

You pulled a lip between your teeth as you stood next to him, and he moved his chair out towards you. You smoothed a hand over his dress shirt, and grabbed a hold of his tie. Then you hooked a leg over both of his and lowered yourself onto his lap, face right next to his. You’d grown comfortable with being close to him, and while it still felt electric, you could handle it better. You rocked your hips on his as you got comfortable.

“Feel familiar?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m getting flashbacks.”

You smirked.

“Can I take this off?” You tugged at his shirt.

“Only if you play nice. No acting up, okay?”

“If you say so.” You shrugged, making quick work of the tie and buttons. Once the shirt was off, your lips were all over him, trailing over his chest and neck, tongue tracing lines across his collarbones.

“You don’t have to be anywhere for the next week, do you?” You murmured into his ear.

“No.” His breath hitched a little.

“Good.”

With that, you closed your lips around his pulse, and sucked.

While you littered his whole torso with bruises, and your neck was given a few of its own, you started rocking your hips lazily against him, playing coy like you didn’t know what you were doing, like you couldn’t feel him rock hard between your legs.

“Now this really is taking me back.” His voice strained when he spoke.

You only hummed in response, lace panties bunching in an all-too-familiar way. But you didn’t work your hips like you had something to prove this time, you went slower, taking your time, but staying deliberate in your movements. Your lips met his, breaking away only to breathe, then again when you felt his hips roll a little and his breath get laboured.

You rocked your hips harder, nice and firm. You could feel his cock twitch through his pants, right up against the wet spot forming on your panties. The friction had you shaking.

“Feel good?” You breathed.

“Yeah. Feels real fucking good, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your head lolled back, gasping loud to make sure he really heard it.

“You know what would feel even better, though?”

He mumbled something back but you didn’t catch it, lost in the haze.

“Think it’d feel better if you were fucking me for real right now.”

You didn’t expect the broken moan that escaped him, hands gripping your hips hard. Like the thought of it was enough to make him shatter.

“Baby,” he warned, “don’t.”

“But it would be so easy.” You pressed, “pushing my panties to the side and fucking into me right now.”

“Doll-”

“I know you want to.” you whispered against his ear.

“Do you now?” His strained voice told you everything you needed to know.

You nodded. “Mhm. I know you do. I also know that it’s driving you crazy, having me this close, but not able to take what you want. You must be going out of your mind, you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am too. I’m tired of this rule, Snow. Let’s just forget about it, and fuck me already.”

“Get up.” He said firmly. You started.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said get up, sweetheart.”

You climbed off his lap and stood, cautiously, legs shaking from how close you’d gotten. He did the same, towering over you a little as you failed to hide the smile on your face.

“Get on the bed.”

You took in a breath, shaky with nerves.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat back on the bed, peering over the mattress as he ducked down to pick up something from the floor.

“What are you-”

“Eyes closed.”

“Okay.” You shut your eyes, then felt him get close to you, his lips meeting yours as he knelt in front you, mattress dipping as he shifted. His hands brushed your arms, slowly pushing them behind your back as you melted into him, and before you could open your eyes, you felt the smooth silk of his tie wrap around your wrists and pull.

“What-”

“You want to act up, doll? Fine. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum all over my fingers before you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing your lace panties to the side and pressing a finger into your wet cunt as you cried out. Your eyes pleaded at him, desperate.

“But why can’t you-”

“I said,” he repeated, pressing his finger into the spot that make you see stars, “not. Fucking. Yet.”

He spent hours fingering you open, making you cum until you cried. Then he cleaned up your tears and kissed like you were his whole world as you fell into an exhausted sleep, his words floating around in your head.

The black box was tied with a crisp white ribbon, and sat waiting for you on your bed. You approached it with caution, thumbing the piece of card on top of it. It was a note written in ink.

Wear this tonight. Think you’ll suit it well.

- C.S

You’d gone into your room to collect something of yours to take to Snow’s room. You rarely went into your room anymore, most of your things had found their place in his, much to your satisfaction.

It was the first day in about two weeks that Coriolanus had finally had to leave the house to go into the city, but he’d promised it would just be for the day. It was also the first gala you had to attend since you’d made your decision, which you were slightly nervous for, but mostly excited to get out of the house, because although the sacred oasis that his room had become, it would be nice to have a change of scenery.

And that brought you back to the beautifully wrapped box lay in front of you. You were buzzing. You turned the note over in your hands, pulling it to your face to breathe it in. It smelt like newly printed books, and something distinctly him.

You recognised the label on the box, it was one of your favorite designers. You pushed the lid away to reveal the most beautiful dress you’d ever laid your eyes on – and you’d seen some impressive pieces.

It was a dark crimson red with gold embroidery, soft as silk. You unfolded it gently, letting the fabric spill out towards the floor. It was a little more revealing than anything you currently owned, with a deep slit up the leg and a plunging neckline, waist cinched, but the rest of the dress was floor length. A smile crept onto your face.

After counting down the hours, it was finally time to make your way downstairs. Snow stood in a full suit, waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

“You look beautiful.” He remarked.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You smiled in response.

You met at the foot of the stairs, and he took your hand in his.

“Thank you for the dress. It’s gorgeous.” You added, not sure why you were lowering your voice in your own lobby.

“I knew it would suit you. Now you’re almost ready to go.”

“Almost?” You frowned, not sure what you could possibly be missing.

Coriolanus lifted his hand to pull the white rose from his breast pocket. He examined it, then lifted it to your hair and tucked it gently behind your ear. Your lips parted in surprise, and your hand reached up to meet his.

“But it’s your signature. I couldn’t-”

“I know. But people won’t be looking at me tonight. They’ll be looking at you. And this way, when they do, each and every one of them will know that you’re mine.”

That knowing smile crept back onto your face, and you leaned in to press your lips to his.

When you pulled away, you thumbed his tie, realising the color matched your dress exactly.

“I’m sensing a similar theme here.”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve been seen out in public. It’ll be good to show up like this, show a strong front, not leave any doubters.”

You hummed.

“And when we get home?”

His stare drew you in; you could get lost in it and never find your way out.

“That depends.”

Your gaze lowered to his lips, then back up again.

“Missed you today.” You said.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You promise?”

He smiled.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Snow?”

He hummed in response. Your hand felt like it could melt into his, thumb brushing your palm.

“What would you say if I told you that I trust you now?”

His hand stilled. His eyes bored into yours.

“I’d say… that I believe you.”

You held your breath in, letting the anticipation wash over you.

“Later?” You whispered, and he nodded.

“Later.”

The ball was one of the most extravagant you’d seen, large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and fountains of champagne dotted around. The health minister had outdone himself, and when you said so to Snow, he muttered a comment about him spending more time planning parties than doing his real job. But he smiled to all the right people, and his hand in yours calmed your nerves as a large procession saw you into the ballroom.

You danced until your feet turned numb, spinning on the ballroom floor, every time Coriolanus put his hands on your waist or wrapped his hand around yours drawing you in further, bringing you closer to forgetting everyone was watching you when his eyes were on yours, each stare becoming some secret language you were now terribly well-versed in. He didn’t let himself get distracted this time, quickly gravitating back to you any time he got pulled away into a conversation, and you basked in the attention, the two of you flirting to high heaven. When you’d spun until you were dizzy, he went to get you a drink, and you stepped off the floor of twirling couples.

It was then that you saw your mother, standing anxiously to one side, the stem of a champagne glass pressed between her fingers. Your parents rarely made it to these functions, but apparently, they had made time for this one. Suddenly aware of your frown and not wanting to arise suspicion, you plastered on a false smile and swanned through the crowd in her direction.

“Oh, darling. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I am, mother, I wouldn’t miss it. Is everything alright?”

She glanced around the two of you nervously, fiddling with her glass. You touched her shoulder and gently guided her further into the corner of the room. You rarely saw her this distressed, usually the picture of grace and poise.

“What’s wrong?” You pressed.

“Have you heard from Nathaniel?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Nathaniel Greene? Not in a long time.” You figured the little stunt of yours from the month before should go unmentioned.

“I heard from his parents the other day. They’re completely distraught.”

“Why? What on earth happened?”

For a second, echoes of threats that had long settled to the ground popped back into the forefront of your mind, and you swallowed thickly. You sat down in two small chairs at the side of the room.

“They can’t begin to understand why. Perhaps it was work, perhaps he was gambling, or in debt, but nothing could possibly explain such a cruel fate.”

“Mother, tell me what happened. Is he…”

Her hands shook, and you took the glass of champagne from her and placed it on a nearby tray.

“He’s not dead, my darling. It’s worse. A messenger came to his house late the other night. They asked him to pack a bag, and they took him away. To… I can barely say it.”

“Mother,” you gritted, “tell me.”

“A peacekeeper, of all things.” Horror filled her voice. “They sent him away to the districts, for the next twenty years. But what could he have done? I can barely understand it. Can you imagine? A young man of his standing, wasting away in that place? His family is ruined.”

Right then, the crowd around you parted in a way that could only announce the presence of one person.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

You lifted your head to meet cool blue eyes and a slightly suspicious stare. From where you sat, Snow towered over you both, drink in hand.

“Everything’s fine.” You replied, “my mother isn’t feeling too well. Do you think we could find my father and have him take her home?”

He nodded at an Avox nearby who stepped dutifully away without missing a beat, and a server offered your mother a tray with a glass of water on it. You stood and faced Coriolanus, conscious of the now very interested crowd, and nodded to the large double doors that stood to your right.

“A word?”

He followed you in cautiously.

“I just heard something interesting.” You started.

He stood up straight, setting his jaw when you finally turned to face him. Even though you were barely alone, just a closed door between you and hundreds of people, it felt electric to be standing so close to him again with nobody watching you.

“What’s that?”

Playing it safe. An interesting move.

“Oh, just some rumor about an old friend of ours.”

“Who would that be?”

You smiled.

“I thought it was funny you asked about him the other day. Were you worried if I left you I’d go back to him?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Coriolanus.” You drawled. “You sent Nathaniel off to be a peacekeeper so I couldn’t go back to him.”

His stony façade fell through a little.

“And if I did?”

The deep frown you’d plastered onto your face for your mother’s benefit fell away, and your lips curved into a smirk.

“I’d say... well played.”

He blinked.

“You’re not upset?”

“Over him? Barely.”

“You’re - ” Snow paused, “so you’re not angry that I sent him away? The districts are hell, you know.”

“I’m sure. I don’t care, Snow. If anything, I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“He had it coming. He slept with my closest friend a week after we ended things. He never knew I found out. I’ve just been waiting, really, for him to get what he deserves. I doubted you’d let him off without a warning. There I was thinking you’d lost your touch for a while.”

You wanted to bottle the feeling you got from his eyes burning into you, with something that tasted like admiration.

“I nearly did let him off, for your sake.” He confessed. “But... if that's the case, I'm glad I changed my mind."

“So am I. It was that weekend I left, wasn’t it?”

“Damage control." He said tightly, "You can’t blame me.”

“Thought so. Good work, Snow.” You stepped towards him and revelled in the apprehension on his face with a smirk. “It’s a shame for his family, but they were never particularly nice. Collateral, I suppose.”

“You really don’t care at all?”

“Does it look like I care?”

“No.”

“I think you can read me as well as the next person. So I don’t care. Is that so tragic?”

He shook his head, bewildered. A strange smile appeared on his face.

“No, that’s… that’s good.”

You smirked as a thought popped into your head.

“How long do you think he’ll last out there?”

“Who knows? I hope you’re not banking on him ever coming back.”

You fiddled with his tie, smoothing it down.

“Never. We can’t all be Coriolanus Snow, can we?”

“Certainly not.”

You stepped even closer, and his back bumped softly against the wall. His gaze fell to your lips. You'd painted them a red so deep it was almost black, matching the dress.

"You like the color?" You asked.

"Yeah. Reminds me of when you kissed me in front of everyone and I couldn't get it off."

You laughed.

"Well, it was one way of getting your attention."

"It drove me fucking crazy, you know. It's all I thought about when I jerked off for weeks."

Fuck. Your eyes went a little heavy, laden with want.

“I hope this hasn’t changed our plans tonight.” You murmured.

“Has it changed them for you?”

You shook your head quickly.

“No. You?”

“Of course not.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“Good. Because now he’s out of our way, I’m tired of this party. I want to go home."

His eyes darkened a little and he drew in a breath.

“I’ll go say my goodbyes.”

With one of his hands on the doorknob, you stopped him.

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“I don't want you to be nice. Later, I mean.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was just a few squeezes shy of breaking off the doorknob.

Your body slammed against his bedroom door with a force. His hands travelled under your clothes; wanting, needing to touch. You sighed and gasped at the feeling, his cold hands on your skin shooting chills through you, tugging off your clothes, kissing your neck, taking all that he wanted but still desperate for more. The rose had long fallen from your hair and lay, forgotten, on the hardwood. He kissed you with purpose, like he was once again trying to prove that he owned you, all the while understanding that he couldn’t. Maybe that’s what pushed him to touch you, to kiss you like it was the last time, like he was scared you’d float away somehow, even though you both know that wouldn’t really happen.

You understood it, because you felt the same way about him.

You revelled in it, in the way his hands wrapped around your back, lowered to your legs, and lifted you up to push you harder against the door. His lips travelled across every square inch of bare skin he could find, your dress pushed down to your waist, lace bra exposed.

“Take it off.” He whispered, and you arched your back, reaching for the clasp and unhooking it with lightning speed. The lights were dim in his room, casting shadows that danced as the two of you moved together. Your head fell back against the solid wood as Coriolanus licked a trail up your neck. It was depraved, more passionate than anything you’d felt before. You could hardly think, blood pumping through your veins faster than you could stand. The only thing louder than the rush of blood in your ears was the sound of your breath mixing, hot and heavy as you took, impatient and without apology.

You cried out as his hips pressed harder into yours, and you could feel his length pressing up against you for the hundredth time. Except this time, you could finally let yourself imagine him inside you and trust that he wouldn’t turn this into another round of the game you’d thought endless. You squeezed your legs around his hips.

“Bed.” You gasped, and he grinned, wolfish and thrilled. You were the luckiest girl in Panem, to get to see him look at you that way.

“Been waiting to get this dress off you since I had it made.”

“Don’t tear it. Be gentle.”

“With you, or the dress?”

You narrowed your eyes as he carried you to the bed and placed you down on the mattress.

“Thought I told you that already.”

He was careful with the dress, slipping it over your hips and draping it over the back of the desk chair. When he came back, you were propped up on your elbows, legs bent at the knee, stare unwavering, panties the only thing left to take off. He was still wearing too much, shirt messily undone, pants still fastened but barely concealing the tent beneath them.

“You sure about this?” He checked.

“That a trick question?”

“Doll.”

You laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt, handsome.”

He pulled off the white shirt methodically, and you shifted onto your knees to pull off his belt and toss it to the floor, eager to speed things along. You took in his toned chest and let your gaze sink down to his boxers, where his cock stood painfully hard beneath the material.

“Can I…” You prompted.

“Fuck. Yes. Please.” He sighed as your nails trailed up the bare skin of his thigh and brushed softly over his cock.

You smiled at the addition and took one last glance at his face, anticipation clear on his features that morphed a little in the near-darkness. Then, you pulled the material down his legs and his cock sprung free, and you forgot that you’d done this before, that you were used to this, to him, to being with him in almost every sense. It all slipped away, and as your hand reached to touch him with nothing between the two of you, it felt like the first time you’d ever done it. The breath he sucked in as you started to push the precum around his tip urged you on, making you brazen, and you readjusted your knees on the bed and got closer, then licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Oh my – fuck.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grateful for the darkness.

“That okay?”

He laughed, something dark and untethered.

“You fucking know it is. Such a fucking tease.”

“Wouldn’t be such a tease if we’d done this sooner.”

“Somehow I doubt that, sweetheart – ah.”

He was cut off by you taking the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucking hard as you gripped the base. You pumped your hand a few times and revelled in the sounds he made, choked out grunts and broken sighs, mixed with the occasional curse or a cry of your name.

You felt his hand gently brush against your hair, ever so cautious.

“Can I…”

“Mhm.” You hummed in the affirmative, and he sighed, all low and shaky as he pushed his fingers through your locks, not guiding, just careful pressure on your scalp as he let you take the lead.

“Baby,” he gritted out, “I don’t know how much longer I can… fuck, that’s-”

He sucked in a sharp breath as you stopped, pulling off, lips swollen. You looked up at him, stunned as he caught his breath.

“Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we turn a light on? I can’t… I want to see you.”

In the shadows, you could just make out the glint of his eyes and a dumbfounded smile.

“Of course.”

He stepped away, kicking off his boxers, and you watched him reach over the desk to switch on a small lamp. It lit up his face and you took him in, a thin cast of sweat shimmering across his face and chest. When he turned, you glanced away like you hadn’t been staring. He caught on with a grin.

“Like what you see?”

Such a dick.

“I’d like it better if you were over here.” You mumbled as he paced back towards you.

“You’re the one who wanted the light on, sweetheart. Now I know why.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Snow.”

“Coryo.” His breath danced against your lips as he closed in, lips sealing against yours as he pushed you back on the bed.

“Coryo.” You repeated with a smile when he pulled away kissing down your neck and chest, feeling the shape of the name in your mouth.

Then his hands were on you again as if they’d never left. More heat pooled between your legs as he trailed his hands down your thighs, and you let your head fall back as his fingers pressed through the seam of your panties.

His breath got shaky again as his fingers pushed the scrap of wet fabric to the side. You gasped as his thumb went straight to your clit, determined, rubbing tight circles against the hard nub.

“Oh my god, Coryo, I-”

“So fucking wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?”

It was too much all at once. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded. Beside yourself, your left hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans.

Then he fucking stopped. Your hand fell from your mouth, and you felt the lace get pulled down your legs.

“What are you…” You trailed off. The dim light let you make out his face and you could see his expression now, wanting, but careful, methodical.

“Open your mouth.”

When your lips parted, a little in response, but moreso in surprise, the two fingers he’d been using on your clit slipped into your mouth, pulling your jaw open as his other hand propped him up. You could taste yourself, hot and heavy, spilling onto your tongue.

“I want to hear you, baby. You can’t cover your mouth like that if I’m gonna hear you.”

You nodded, brain a little dead.

“Good girl. Now I don’t have a free hand, know what that means?”

You cried out a little, tongue trapped beneath his fingers.

“Touch yourself, doll. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you nice and fucking close, okay?”

A little self-aware with him hovering right above you, you snaked a hand between your legs, but when you saw the look on his face you stopped wasting time, pushing two fingers inside yourself, heel of your hand bumping your clit as a whine slipped past your lips.

He kept talking, whispering hot and heavy into your ear, dragging his lips over your neck, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, every touch burning your skin like it was molten. When you’d lost yourself enough, mouth still parted; his fingers gentler now he’d made his point, he ducked his head lower, trailing his lips over your tits, placed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. Your moans got louder, feeling like every inch of skin he covered was hardwired to your cunt, your fingers getting tired and sloppy as you got yourself closer, dripping down your thighs.

You made a sound and he glanced up at you, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“Just fuck me. Please, I can’t wait anymore, Coryo.” You whined, trying desperately to slow down your breathing.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t make yourself cum first?”

You shook your head, any more and you were sure your eyes would start to water.

“That’s okay, doll. I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.”

He lowered himself down towards you, arms either side of yours, crowding you in. Then his hands travelled down, lower, and your eyes rolled back, mouth agape as you felt his cock press against your entrance.

“Fuck.” You whispered, and he was strangely quiet. You blinked, and looked down at him, and you’d never seen such a pained look on his face. His lips parted, eyes heavy and slitted as he looked down at where his cock rubbed up and down like he was in a trance, slowly nudging your clit and getting himself wetter, tip glistening in the dim light.

Desperate for friction, you started rocking your hips, aching for him to push inside of you.

“Not just yet.” He breathed, voice strung-out and insane. “I won’t make you wait much longer, baby.”

“Please. I need you to fuck me. Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Usually, you’d see a sly smile appear on his face, but he just pressed his eyes closed as if the thought was going to send him over the edge. It was the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. Then, finally, you felt his cock catch at your entrance, and slowly press inside. You gasped at the pressure, at the size of him, and he was barely even moving.

“That’s it, baby.” He breathed. “I’m right here.”

He shifted his hips a little, and you clawed at his back, nails digging in until he hissed, rocking your hips to beg for more. You didn't want him holding back, not when you'd waited months for this. You strained your neck lifting it from the bed to whisper in his ear.

“I meant what I said, Coryo. Don’t be fucking nice.”

It was as if something in him snapped. Like he was holding on by a single thread, and you’d send him spiralling out of control. His hips jerked forward and you cried out as he filled you to the hilt, then rocked into you again, picking up a pace that was almost punishing. You tasted it, still wet on your lips, clung to your skin, and now, deep inside you.

Danger.

“So fucking pretty. Does my pretty girl need to get fucked, huh? Just like that?”

You could barely form words, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in further, feeling pinned open and beautifully used. Your cries melted together in your head until you could only understand bits and pieces, and as he fucked you, unrelenting, you felt your back slide up the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, and you were sure they must’ve drawn blood. His forehead pressed against yours,

For a second, he slowed, looking down at you.

“That okay?” He muttered.

You nodded, frantic, barely there.

“Yeah.”

He sped up again and your legs grew weak. He reached his free hand down to grab hold of your thigh and push it higher, the new angle making you see stars, clenching around him impossibly tight.

“Good fucking girl.”

At some point, as you exchanged fewer words and more heated glances, you felt your hand slip from his back and come to rest against over his on your thigh, to hold it in place. He took it in stride, taking it in his, fingers interlacing as his thumb brushed yours.

You didn’t think much of it. How could you? Not when he was stretching the walls of your cunt as you gripped him like a vice. Not when you could barely hear the words coming from either of your mouths. But oddly, it was the gentle contrast that pushed you to the edge as he fucked into you just like you’d asked, hard and unrelenting, mean.

Despite it all, it was the thumb that brushed yours that had moans spilling from your mouth as you both took exactly what you wanted from each other. It sparked something in you, something that let you know you were safe here, that there weren’t any walls between you anymore, no twisted games that wouldn’t benefit you both equally.

“I’m close.” You gasped as his cool blue eyes spilled into yours, and you knew he was all yours.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? I can feel it.”

You nodded silently, muscles in our thighs tensing around his back, the hand that was twisted into yours now falling onto the bed beside you. He gripped it tighter, and fucked you harder, with a point to prove. When your eyes slid shut in ecstasy, right on the edge of falling apart, he squeezed your hand, palms hot and clammy against each other just like the rest of you.

“Look at me, baby.” He urged, fighting for breath. “You’re so fucking close, I need – shit – need to see you when you cum for me.”

It wasn’t hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them on him when he looked like that, like he was carved by the fucking gods, brow scrunched and shining with sweat, eyes bluer than ever, lips parted in an o shape. It was the prettiest sight you’d seen, and your hand tensed around his when you came, trembling like a leaf, mouth parting in a shout you barely heard, eyes focused on him, only him as he fucked you through it.

"Fuck, that's it, doll. Like that? Right fucking there?"

You cried out in response, and as you spilled apart, you heard your name slip past his lips through your ringing ears , followed by a string of curses, each one filthier than the next, not letting up once as he followed you over the edge, hips stuttering as you felt warmth fill your walls and his head fall down onto the pillow beside yours.

A few moments passed as you let the feeling wash over you, feeling the wonderfully sore, sticky mess between your thighs after he pulled out. You heard him catch his breath, then tumble onto his back by your side. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, then at him, and with a smile realised he’d been looking at you.

“Like what you see?” You echoed. He smiled, coy.

“You know I do, beautiful.”

You sighed, satisifed.

“Keep calling me beautiful, Snow, and I might start thinking you want to fuck me.” You teased. “Wouldn’t want to give a girl the wrong idea.”

He laughed, bright and loud. A few more seconds passed, and you hummed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I’m just a little annoyed I didn’t get to ride you.”

He swallowed then smiled, almost awe-like, transfixed. It was a feeling that you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks, but it felt new this time. Different.

“You’re not done?”

“Are you?”

He glanced at your lips, then back up again, voice earnest.

“Not with you, sweetheart.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Good. Then lay back. Head on the pillow for me.”

He obliged, blonde curls spilling over the fabric. You liked it when he grew his hair out a little, you thought as you hooked a leg over his waist. His hands came up to touch you, but you pressed his wrists back into the mattress.

“No touching, Coryo. You hear me?”

He nodded, eyes darkening again, and you lowered your head to kiss him, deep and slow. Felt yourself meld into him with a smile as his cock hardened against your thigh.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the white rose he'd given you, discarded haphazardly on the wooden floor.

And something inside you just knew, you’d never get bored of this.

a/n: hope you liked it. thank you again for the love and for screaming along with me this whole time <33

taglist: (more in the comments) : @superchatnoir07 @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904@pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @ohstardew @ohmeadows

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pxrxcxa · 2 years

Text

Off Limits

✶ One shot - is a part 2 to untouchable but can be read as a stand alone

Pairing | Eddie x his best friends little sister

Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refused to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you worked out a way to get him to look at you differently, now you deal with the fall out of it.

What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie & reader, lots of tension - no use of y/n

Post Warnings | Drug mention, F oral, Fingering, voyeurism, public sex acts, slight choking - let me know if I missed any

Word count | 6 K

Pt 1 | Pt 3 |

Authors Note | Okay first of all - Tumblr was being a B and wouldn't let me post, so I had to refresh and lost all of the tagging I did (which took me for effing ever) I'm posting this and I'll tag everyone once I've had a goddamn ciggerate. Anyways, I wrote a long ass part 2 and then decided I wanted to halve it and make a part 3 because I have an unhealthy obsession with ending things on a cliff hanger (sorta) but it's written and proof read and will be posted 24 hours after this. I hope this lived up to everyones expectations

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

I jumped at every sound that drifted down the entry hall, flipping through an open novel spread across the kitchen counter that I wasn’t paying attention to, as I re read the same paragraph for the fifth time. My nerves spiked and my fingers gripped the next page, in danger of ripping it from the spine of the book as the front door smacked open and my brothers voice rang out.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Eddie since what happened under his Hellfire table. He’d ushered his club out as soon as the campaign ended, providing me with a quick escape as I fled from the room and didn’t look back. I’d worried about what to say – or not to say – the next time he turned up with Trevor, but I shouldn’t have bothered panicking about it because Eddie had been ominously absent without an excuse.

I couldn’t very well go and ask my brother about it, his response making me choke up before I could even figure out the words, and I didn’t want to give myself away as the reason why Eddie might be avoiding me – and by extension Trevor. But tonight was movie night, and if Eddie missed this without a good enough reason – like a broken leg or death – Trevor would get suspicious.

I definitely had not changed my outfit three times and spent an hour on my makeup just in case Eddie turned up for tonight.

A shiver shot down my spine as I leant further over the counter, burying my head further into the book as I fidget, trying hard to look relaxed and unbothered as footsteps filled the empty hallway.

I couldn’t help my glance up as an unfamiliar footfall slapped against the linoleum.

“Umm… Hi?”

“Hey” The tall blonde smirked at me, helping herself to a drink from the fridge as her short mini skirt rode up her thighs. My stomach sunk as I watched her prance around the island bench, leaning on it as she popped open the soda can and glared at me over the lip of it.

“Who are you?” I hissed, slamming my book shut as I straightened up.

“Laura.” Her eyes flashed in surprise at my animosity and her smile was sickly sweet as she took a loud slurp, leaving makeup stains on the can.

“Right… and you’re here why?” I was afraid of the answer.

“Movie night.” She grinned and tossed her hair back as my face dropped, my lunch threatening to make a reappearance.

“Or a movie date, whatever you want to call it, we met at the Hideout.” At that moment she glanced towards the hallway, and I spun around to face what my anger was internally screaming at.

Eddie was hovering in the darkened entry space, turned towards the living room but facing to where I stood shaking in fury next to the stranger dressed like a whore in my kitchen. His brows knotted as he spared her a glance and his hand moved to rub at his jaw as his gaze reluctantly moved to mine.

I didn’t know what I expected, something along the lines of how he’d looked at me between his legs in front of his throne, or if he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen then maybe how he’d always looked at me, like a kid sister. The dark resolute of disinterest bordering on anger was not what I thought I was going to find when his glowering stare met mine.

Trevor chose that moment to burst through the doorway, shoving past Eddie as he came to stand around the bench. He slowed and rested his fist on the countertop as the thick tension hit him, his eyes flickering between our faces.

“You ready babe?” I spun around as he slid his arm around Laura’s waist, accepting her kiss eagerly as he scowled at me over her shoulder, not knowing what caused the awkward atmosphere but blaming me for it anyway.

“Wait she’s here for you?” My voice came out in an unplanned shocked screech.

“Obviously, who else?” He stared at me like he wouldn’t expect me to consider Eddie as a possibility. I tried to not be noticeable as I dropped my eyes from them and turned back to face him but he’d disappeared from the door frame.

“You joining us?” The microwave door creaked as Trevor slid a bowl of unpopped corn kernels into it.

“Uh yeah.” The whole situation had caught me off guard, and I’d answered without thinking.

I hesitated in the kitchen as my brother and what appeared to be his new girlfriend, giggled and groped at each other as the occasional pop echoed off the cabinets, I groaned and grabbed my water bottle as they started making out without shame, heading for the living room filled with the blue glow from the tv set that was geared up and ready to play Trevor’s horror movie choice of the night.

I waited for him to acknowledge me, but his eyes were glued to the paused screen, leaning his head into his arm perched on the side of the couch. I briefly considered taking up residence in the uncomfortable chair directly next to the tv and facing away from it, but that would look more suspicious to Trevor than sitting next to Eddie on the couch we always shared.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gripped the bottle tighter to my chest, unsure where we stood after what happened between us. His eyes flashed to my face, softening as they moved behind me to see that I was alone.

“Hey you.” He allowed me half a smug smirk as I took a probing step forward, returning his smile with a careful one as my heart unclenched a little.

“Haven’t seen you for a bit.” I walked past his spread knees as I plopped onto the furthest end of the couch, trying to keep my eyes on his and not how tight his pants were around his hips as he stretched and tugged his jeans down an inch.

“Yeah, had some stuff to sort out.” He titled his head towards me as his stare burned into me, and even in the cold space between us, the night time sky seeping in through the open window casting long shadows over us, I could feel the suffocating zaps of electricity that flared between us.

It was strong enough to steal my breath away, too strong for me to have imagined it, and from the way Eddie’s eyes darkened as his eyes fell to my lips, he had to be feeling it to.

I opened my mouth to say something when the entry hall light flicked off and Trevor strutted into the room, bringing the strong smell of butter with him.

“Bunch up man.” He nodded at Eddie as he gestured for Laura to take a seat, handing her the bowl as he went to go grab the tv remote.

I heard Eddie’s low sigh as he balled up his hands and used them to push into the couch, propelling him towards my end as I shuffled up against the very edge of it. The room blackened completely as the screen went dark, the quiet static creeping through the speakers.

Fuck

In the darkness the tingling tension between us hiked up a hundred times more, almost palpable in the air. My breathing stopped, and from the way Eddie froze beside me as he went rigid from trying to keep the non-existent space between us, so had he.

The couch groaned under Trevor’s weight as he folded himself onto the opposite end of it, slinging an arm over Laura and pulling her into his side from where she was wedged between him and Eddie.

The screen lighted up, the words ‘based on a true story’ spread across it as it faded back into blackness and a scene of a happy couple making out at a lookout, took its place.

“Thought this was supposed to be a horror, not a romance Trevor.” Eddie hissed, digging his hand into his knee as he picked at the loose threads and grimaced at the display of affection in front of us.

“It is, dude.” Trevor glanced over the mound of blonde hair to shoot Eddie a concerned look. I burrowed down into the cushions away from Eddie, crossing my arms across my chest as I tried to melt away.

Any other night if I was sat in front of an R-rated movie, I’d be jumping and letting out little squeals the same as Laura. But I was too focused on snatching my hand back when it reached out to brush against Eddie’s thigh like it had a mind of its own, barely catching myself in time. I was literally having to remind myself to breath as every little shift that brought our bodies together, sent a flash of heat from wherever our skin touched.

He was driving me insane, but most infuriatingly of all was how unbothered Eddie seemed. Even though it felt like he was going to strenuous lengths to avoid touching me as much as possible, he was slouched in a relaxed position with his head leaning against the back of the couch, his hands resting in loose fists along the curve of his lap.

I swallowed hard as his lashes lowered against his cheeks, his breath fluttering from his parted lips as the mixed colours of gore from the tv, reflected off his sharp features prettily.

I’d turned my head too far and he noticed me, I dropped my gaze just as Eddie’s eyes slid to mine, watching my cheeks blaze in indignation at being caught. I felt his stare burning heat into me like an actual physical touch and I couldn’t help myself, I glanced back up shyly to find his almost black eyes focused entirely on me now.

The upturned corner of his lips twitched as a tight coil constricted around my chest, making it impossible to breath as his eyes trapped me. I caught my lip between my teeth as Eddie leant across my lap, his fingers brushed my knees as he swiped up the bundle of blankets at the corner of the couch.

“It’s cold.” He didn’t give the others a choice as he tossed a blanket into Trevor’s face, turning his back on him as he tucked the fleecy material into the contours of my body. I stayed as still as stone as Eddie draped it over my shoulders, his warm breath tickled my neck as he bent close to whisper in my ear.

“If you bite your fucking lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you.”

Fuck

I was lucky it was dark because my face was on fire, my breath blew past my lips in a shudder as Eddie sunk back against the pillows. A satisfied scoff vibrated through his chest as he lightly hung the rest of the blanket over his lap, his arms disappearing beneath it.

Spurts of red danced across the screen as the movie reached the point of the killer going on a spree, his victims screams bounced off the walls and drowned out my gasp as Eddie’s fingers brushed against my thigh.

His light touch traced across the fabric of my skirt, quickly moving down the side of my naked leg as my breath tumbled out in gasps. The thin blanket bunched up in my lap as I twisted it in my hands, gulping as Eddie’s fingers tips crawled over the top of my thighs, making his way to the blazing heat between them.

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen as he bantered back with Trevor over the low budget gore effects, squeezing my inner thigh until I relaxed and spread them apart for him.

I didn’t know what was in the air between us that made even the slightest touch feel like a lightning strike. But my body betrayed me as it became alert to every delicate brush of Eddie’s fingers, every inch that brought him closer to my drenched panties made me tremble against him.

I buried my groan by biting into my fist but he wasn’t so subtle. Eddie’s head fell back against his shoulders and let out a sigh through clenched teeth as his fingers slipped between my folds, flicking up and down through my slick as I anchored myself to the couch, holding on for dear life as his finger tip moved over my swollen bud, rubbing constant circles until my legs were shaking so hard the pillows beneath us started moving.

I whimpered as Eddie’s hand curved, pressing his first long finger inside of me, the intrusion burned slightly as he stretched me out before drifting off into a new sense of pleasure. I’d played with myself before, too many nights to remember where I pretended my smaller fingers were Eddie’s long ones, covered in bulky rings as they slammed into me.

But out of all the times I’d imagined this, I didn’t expect to have to have to swallow my cries because Eddie was secretly touching me in front of other people. Eddie laughed loudly to cover my moan as he slid a second finger deep into me, leaning forward over his lap to block me from view as I grabbed his wrists above the blanket, using him to keep me steady as the feeling of his hand threaten to send me over the edge.

“You’re actually enjoying the movie?” Laura scoffed, glaring at Eddie as I tried to blink through my tears of pleasure.

“Uh yeah, I actually really like what I’m watching.” He smirked, covering his mouth with his free hand as he glanced over at me through his thick lashes.

My head snapped back as I couldn’t stop the shudder and soft whimper that fled me as Eddie pushed up against a sensitive soft spot deep in my pussy. I squeezed my eyes and shook my head as Trevor asked me if the movie was too scary, not trusting myself to speak.

There was a roar of a chainsaw and Laura shrieked.

“Oh my god stop stop stop.” I scrambled as Eddie ripped his hand from between my legs, rubbing his jaw with the fingers still drenched in my essence as he glanced at my brother reaching for the remote. I used the distraction to shimmy my skirt back down my thighs, pinching the fabric of my panties to cover my slit again after Eddie had shoved it out of the way for himself.

He turned his head to look at me with alight eyes as my chest heaved and I sat up straighter, breathing deeply as I tore the blanket off my lap and let it fall to our feet, wanting to hide the evidence. Eddie grunted and curled over like he’d been punched in the gut as he glared at me, his hand pressed against his crotch.

I narrowed my eyes back confusingly at him before he huffed and his hands quickly dipped beneath his pant line, readjusting his hard on before the others noticed it straining against his jeans.

“I cannot believe you thought a double date watching a gross horror movie was a good idea.” Trevor’s face flared in anger as we all snapped our necks towards Laura and the boys almost yelled over each other.

“This is not a fucking double date –“

“-God no, she’s just Trevor’s sister.” Eddie shook his head with a look of – what I could only describe as disgust – clouding his face.

Just Trevor’s sister

The rush of air that was knocked from my chest was quiet, but he heard it. Eddie’s face was cold and devoid of any emotion, hiding whatever thoughts burned behind those pretty dark eyes as hurt flared in my face. That hurt quickly spiralled in anger as Trevor laughed like Laura had told the funniest joke in existence and she glanced between us in confusion.

I was only ever going to be the little sister. Nothing more, nothing less. Never my own person. The cold gut wrenching feeling of being used washed over me as everyone’s eyes settled on me.

Eddie had been right. He knew what guys wanted, what all guys wanted.

What he wanted.

My pathetically pining heart that had chased him for the last decade, cracked as I struggled with the realisation.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to fight and prove myself against the ‘innocent’ label they’d branded me with, because Eddie wasn’t going to feel anything genuine for me, he was just going to treat me like his little play thing.

I was such a fucking idiot

That knowledge made the corner of my vision turn red as my nails bit into my palms, the words falling from me without fear or hesitation.

“You know what Laura? I completely agree with you, it is a stupid idea. And I’m really glad that the guy that asked me to go out this weekend, doesn’t think I’d enjoy watching a horror movie under a blanket for a first date.” I spat the words at the shocked face of my brother and the stone cold, barely concealed simmering rage of Eddie’s. His eyes followed me as I launched myself from the couch, kicking his feet out of the way as I sped from the room before my building tears could fall.

The cold press wasn’t helping to dim the puffiness around both of my eyes, I slammed the wet cloth against the sink as I sighed and leant over it, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. My scream mutilated in my throat as I clutched my chest and spun around, cowering against the vanity as the pair of reflective eyes that scared me, emerged from the darkness.

Eddie hovered in the doorway with a grim expression, anger tightening the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’ve been crying.” His voice didn’t reveal anything as he pointed out the obvious.

“Clearly, genius.” I swallowed as my eyes roamed over his bare chest, flitting away as he shifted and his plaid pyjama pants dipped lower against his v-line.

“What’s wrong?” His jaw clenched as he stumbled over the question, his eyes flaring with the answer he knew was coming.

“Why would you bother asking me that? I’m just Trevor’s little, innocent, stupid sister.” For the first time real anger flowed between us, pure undiluted rage as I stood my ground, copying his stance as I cocked a brow at him, daring him to deny the truth.

“Untouchable. Remember?” My hushed yell was still far too loud in the quiet house, cutting through the darkness as something burned in Eddie’s eyes and tears threatened to make a reappearance in mine.

“I never said you were stupid.” His face blazed with his own anger now as he took a few steps towards me. I backed into the few inches of space I still had behind me, needing to stay away from him to keep my head clear.

Eddie muttered my name as my eyes closed on their own, squeezing shut tighter and his rough, cold hands cradled my face.

“Open your eyes.” He demanded, pressing his hold on me as I shook my head. They flew open in shock and widened as Eddie’s chest pressed against mine, feeling it expand as he sucked in a deep breath and tilted his face towards me.

He was so close it was hard to look up at him, his lips moved closer to me as he whispered his question, the words vibrating through both of our bodies as he pressed me to him.

“What do you want?” It was barely a sigh, sending my mind blank as the minty smell of him washed over me. Eddie’s lashes brushed his cheeks as they focused on my quivering lips, patiently waiting for an answer that I couldn’t comprehend.

I caved

I couldn’t resist him

Even if he only wanted what every guy wanted

“You.” I didn’t say it, I just mouthed the word because Eddie’s dark stare had stolen the power of speech from me.

“Say it again. Louder.” His jaw flexed as our shaky breaths mingled, our lips moving closer together as his loose hair brushed past my collar bones. He paused, just as his bottom lip caressed mine and my knees gave out.

Eddie’s arm slid around my waist to keep me upright and the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to force his smirk away.

“Say it.”

“You.” Eddie’s lips encased mine.

His heat flooded through me as they moved in a way that I’d only ever read about in my romance novels. They were softer than his hair looked, firm but they moved perfectly in sync with mine. God, the taste of him was more than I could have imagined, somehow a perfect mix of his cologne and weed and cigarettes and our peppermint mouthwash.

He was everywhere, his hands touching each bare patch of skin that I needed him to as I gave in completely, twisting my hands in his hair to pull him closer to me as I revelled in finally having our first kiss, never wanting to feel the cold air between our lips again.

Eddie groaned in response to my own one that tumbled from my lips, gripping the fabric of my shorts at my hip until I was afraid he was going to tear it away, his free hand trapped the side of my face, tilting my head up so he could attack my neck.

Each gentle bite followed by a kiss elected a desperate moan from me, flowing faster from me before I could stop them, almost like Eddie was chasing after them and finding pleasure in each sound he forced from me. My head rested back against the mirror with a sigh as his lips traced across my collar bone, teasing at the base of my neck as his hand brushed past the side of my breast, seeming almost like an accident until I spotted the smirk on Eddie’s face.

His hand tightened behind my ear and the nape of my neck as our eyes met, Eddie rose to his full height as an electric bolt shot through me from where our bare skin touched, straight to between my legs.

A tremor of cold reality washed over as his hand moved to trace the outline of my lips and I remembered where his fingers had been only a couple of hours ago. His face dropped as I gasped and lightly shoved at his shoulders, slipping out of his grip as I pulled up the strap of my shirt that Eddie had sneakily slipped off my shoulder.

“Don’t do this. Please, if you don’t care about me, don’t act like you do. I’m not some whore you can have when you want.” I couldn’t hold his stare as my breath quivered from me, sounding embarrassingly like I was going to cry as Eddie gripped the sides of the vanity beside me and leaned over it, forcing me to bow back against it and look up at him.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously, Eddie ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his stare flicked between mine, trying to read something in them as his brows creased angrily.

“You have no idea how much I fucking care about you.”

I refused to believe him

“Like a sister.” I mumbled.

Heat flashed up my arm as Eddie wrenched it away from his chest, pressing my fingers against his hard length hidden beneath his pants. I glanced up at him as he let out a hollow sigh, smiling without humour as he shook his head.

“I haven’t stopped being hard since you decided to hide under that fucking table. I haven’t been able to stop thinking you. You have no idea-.” Eddie tilted his forehead until it was pressing against mine, letting his eyes fall shut as he loosened his grip around my wrist.

I kept my hand pressed against him, my cheeks blushing as I waited.

“-what you do to me. Fucks sake you pretty, silly girl. I tried to stay away because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. Look what happened tonight, I thought I could handle seeing you but I fucking can’tstay away from you. I love Trevor like a brother, and because of that, you’re off limits.” Eddie dropped his grip completely and took a step back, shaking his head to clear it as he stared up at the ceiling, clenching his fists together before he yanked them through his hair roughly.

Eddie glanced back down at me with a sad smile as I froze, soaking up every syllable.

“Like a sister.” He mocked me. “You’ve got no idea how hard it is not to corrupt you. I was able to stay away from you for ten years, but you just had to prove how bad you actually are didn’t you?” Eddie shook his head again, his hand squeezing my cheeks until my lips mushed together.

“Not so innocent, am I?” White, hot pleasure cut through me. I’d won

Eddie groaned and threw his head back, muttering the word Succubus

“The things I want to do to you, what I dream about doing, what I need to do to you. You don’t do that to a sister.” Eddie took a few more steps back, like he needed the space between us as a foreign heat spurred me across the tiles of the bathroom a couple of paces.

“Like what?” I demanded, excitement urging me on as the walls between my legs fluttered at his words.

“That’s not the sort of thing I should tell someone like you.” Eddie wrapped his hands around my wrists to pull them away as I reached up to cup his face, pinning them between us as he smirked at the pout on my lips.

“Someone like me?” I scowled.

“Virgin.” Eddie grinned widely, whispering the word like he was embarrassed.

“How would you know.” I shot back, flinching away from him.

“Because from the first day I met you, I haven’t taken my eyes off you. Trust me, I would know if you weren’t one anymore.” Eddie’s eyes flashed a warning in them as his face coloured, his chest heaving as he ran his gaze over my body.

“Show me.”

“What?” I enjoyed catching him off guard for a split second before I pushed forward, refusing to lose my false sense of confidence.

“Show me… what you want to do to me.” My voice sounded heavy with lust even to my own ears, a blush creeping up my neck as Eddie halted.

Eddie’s hands fell to my hips as he pushed me back against the counter, kicking the bathroom door shut with his heel as he lifted me onto the counter behind us, sliding my legs apart as he moved between them.

“That’s it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” My breaths were shallow as Eddie dipped against my chest, biting at my breasts beneath the thin fabric of my shirt as he moved across my stomach, his hands tracing the trails of fire that his mouth left behind.

My head pressed back against the cold surface of the mirror as I knotted my hands in Eddie’s hair, holding onto him to keep me on earth as his face pressed against my slit covered by my pyjama shorts.

I wasn’t wearing panties and Eddie knew that. His eyes glinted up at me as I peeked down, shutting my eyes and throwing my head to the side as he pressed his nose against me and rubbed it against my swollen clit, laughing deeply as I trembled and hooked my legs around his back to trap him against me. Eddie pushed my thighs up further until they were resting on his shoulders and I was sitting half off the vanity, my pelvis angled perfectly towards him as he looked at me like I was edible.

“So goddamn corruptible.” Whatever snarky response I might have had, died on my lips as Eddie devoured me like a mad man. His lips latched around my clit as he tugged slightly, grinning into my thigh as a loud moan slid out of my chest. He squeezed my legs and shushed me before he brought his tongue to my puffy lips drenched in my own arousal and his saliva, spreading the mixture around and burying his face in it as I twisted beneath him and tugged his hair up towards me, begging for him to suck on my clit again as I whimpered.

“Please Eddie please.” I arched away from the mirror as I reached up to cup my own breasts, surprising myself as I pinched and twisted my hard nipples until I was crying out from both the pain and the laps of pleasure Eddie’s tongue was erecting from me.

“Uhh I’m fucking powerless if you beg.” He rolled his eyes as he moved higher on his knees, digging his fingers into the tops of my thighs as his teeth dragged along my throbbing bud, each tug from his mouth made my legs ache to snap shut and trap him there forever.

The mirror steamed up as heat billowed around us, a lusty concoction of my moans and Eddie’s grunts and the erotic sounds of his tongue on my pussy was enough to suffocate us both.

Something tightened just below my stomach, forcing my eyes shut as my legs twitched and I froze, almost seizing as Eddie’s tongue circled around my clit as his longest finger slid inside of my drenched hole easily, almost like he recognised some unseen cue to go faster.

His free hand that wasn’t working between my legs shot up to shove his fingers in my mouth so that my gag muted my scream, coating my tongue in the sticky residue that his hand had fucked out of me.

It all happened at once, something invisible broke inside of me and my legs snapped shut against the sides of Eddie’s face, my crossed ankles digging into the middle of his back as I arched up off the mirror, ripping his hair from the roots as my lips locked around a silent scream and choked on his hand.

Waves of immense pleasure, nothing like I had ever been able to elicit out of my body myself, destroyed my composure. This feeling came deep from within my soul, no, Hell.

It had to come from Hell because nothing could so devilishly intoxicating, I would ruin my soul searching for this feeling for the rest of the time.

As quickly as it came, it was over. I slumped against the vanity as I melted, my eyes ringing and blocking out Eddie’s question as he rose to his feet, grinning as he wiped the wetness from his chin and wrapped his hand around my ass, crushing me to him as he dipped his head down to me.

“You still think I’m innocent?” My hypothetical question came out groggy, like I was drunk as I clasped my fingers around the back of his neck. I couldn’t help the stupid grin on my face as I shivered, unable to block out the tingling between my thighs as my internal walls fluttered around nothing, begging for something.

“You just came on my face, what do you think?” His grin was twice as wide as his lips moved to mine.

“Yo Eddie, is that you in there?” Eddie’s face froze inches from mine as Trevor’s voice rung out from the hallway, his heavy footsteps thudding against the carpet runner as he headed towards the bathroom.

“Uh yeah man, just taking a piss.” I jumped as my brother’s fist pounded down against the wooden door, flinching as it rattled on its hinges. Eddie’s face was an exact image of fear the same as mine, as we tensed in each other’s arms.

“Well I’m gonna smoke if you wanna come.” There was a pause as Eddie’s eyes snapped shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose, I could see his thoughts ticking over as my head swam, my thoughts turning foggy from the breath I refused to let go off.

I tightened my hold around his shoulders as Eddie’s hands gripped my sides, lifting me off the bench and placing me with a feather light touch next to where the door would swing back on. His hand wrapped around my mouth as he turned towards the closed doorway.

“I’m going to tell him.” His words were barely more than a whisper as resolve hardened in his eyes, speaking more to himself than me as my face narrowed in shock.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.” Eddie’s eyes flashed back to mine as his hand dropped to my throat, not tight enough to hurt but he squeezed it until my core throbbed for him again. Eddie mashed his lips to mine, wiping the smile off my face as his free hand cradled the curve of my cheek softly, he pulled away only to whisper in my ear.

“You’re not going on that date this weekend.” Eddie’s smirk disappeared from my shocked glance as he placed a soft kiss at the side of my neck, leaving me alone with my shiver as cold air replaced his hold and he tugged the door open, wide enough to slip through but still hiding me and my reflection, from view.

“You been jerking off in there or something?” I pressed both hands against my mouth as my knees shook, my brothers voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.

“Yeah, couldn’t help myself.” There was a tinge of nerves and annoyance in his voice that Trevor didn’t pick up on, drowning in his forced laugh and my brothers boisterous one.

“You need a girl man.” It sounded like Trevor slapped Eddie on the shoulder and I glanced up in the mirror.

Eddie’s pained and honest stare met mine in the reflection as he glanced over his shoulder, a war raging in his face as he pulled the door closed behind him.

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

Part Three

Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)

#untouchable #off limits #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie imagine #Eddie brothers best friend #eddie x y/n

5K notes · View notes

whataperfectwasteoftime · 3 months

Text

Trigger Points

Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.

Masterlist

You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.

This isn’t like you.

As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.

The party you hadn’t wanted to go to.

The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.

The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.

Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.

Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free.

“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”

“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.

“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”

“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.

“Internal massage.”

You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least.

…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.

The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.

Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both.

A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.

A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics.

“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms.

“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”

You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.

You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.

Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.

Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.

“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”

You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.

“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”

“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”

“Kay,” you squeak.

“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.

“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.

“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”

Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.

Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.

“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”

“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open.

“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”

“I’m good.”

“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.”

You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.

“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”

“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”

“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”

“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”

“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”

At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole.

“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.

“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”

“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.

“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”

“Yes. Good.”

“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”

The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open.

“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”

You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.

“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”

“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”

As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.

“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”

It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such.

Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before.

Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side.

“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”

“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”

“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”

The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.

“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we��ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”

You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you.

“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor.

At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.

You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.

You really should have known better.

“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.

Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect.

“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.

“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”

“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.

“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.

“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.

“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”

“That’s fine,” you answer.

“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”

“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”

You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.

“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod gratefully.

“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”

You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers.

You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.

“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”

“S’fine.”

“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”

You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.

Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.

“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”

You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor.

“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”

Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane.

Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area.

And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.

“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.

“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.

“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”

“Yuh-huh,” you nod.

“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you.

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.

“Mentally?” he prods.

“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.

“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal #prospect fanfiction

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flowerandblood · 5 months

Text

The Man with the Deep Scar

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: mention and description of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of wounds, virgnity loss, smut, angst, violence, suicide attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, their father had taken no interest in them, preferring his first-born daughter to his second wife's children. He hated her with all his heart, jealous that although he read extensively and was so skilled in hand-to-hand combat, the King only focused his attention on her.

He lived in a constant conviction of defeat − his grandfather incited his mother against his father by saying that if it went on like this it would be Rheanyra who would be chosen by him as heir to the throne, not Aegon, her first-born son.

The tension inside the fortress and their internal strife meant that they failed to see the threat that lurked outside. Discontent among their people was growing due to poor crops and famine − although the King showed concern about the whole situation, his grandfather, Otto reassured him that he had everything under control.

He only recognised how serious the situation was when it became apparent that an army was gathering near the city walls − the lords on whom gigantic taxes had been imposed demanded that the King abdicate and a new ruler be chosen from among the nobles.

House Targaryen had ruled the kingdom for centuries and his father had no intention of giving up the crown to anyone just because they willed it; he called all the lords rising against him traitors, demanding their heads.

However, when it became apparent that the most powerful of the lords, his father's former ally and friend, Lord Walford had risen against them at the head of a rebellion, taking their stronghold by storm, all was lost.

Hearing the sounds of battle and screams he ran to his mother's chamber wanting to make sure she was safe − she was packing up in a hurry and when she saw him she grabbed him by his arms and shook him.

"There is a passage under my bed to an underground shelter. You must press with your little finger the mechanism which is hidden in a small hole under the wooden panels. You and Daeron are to hide there, go get him at once." She ordered in a trembling voice, sweat droplets on her face.

He wanted to defy her, horrified by her condition, feeling that even though he was only twelve years old he was already a man, that he would not hide like a coward but would fight to defend her.

However, he decided that it was indeed necessary to hide Daeron somewhere and was already about to leave her chamber when Lord Walfrod's soldiers suddenly rushed in, their armour and swords all filthy with blood.

He only had time to scream when the blade of one of them swung and drove into his face − he fell to the floor with a loud whine, catching himself on his cheek, completely losing sight of his left eye.

He began to waddle across the floor in front of him towards the bed − he heard his mother screaming but didn't turn to look at her, terrified, thinking only of the fact that he didn't want to die, that he was scared, that he wanted to hide, his heart pounding like mad.

He managed with a shaking hand to find the hole she was saying about − when he slipped his little finger into it something clicked and the flap lifted. He crawled quickly down and closed it behind him, breathing loudly, panting all over, the voices above him muffled and indistinct.

The corridor he was in was very cramped, consisting only of a steep staircase leading down and walls all around him − with one hand he clutched at the painfully burning wound, feeling the warm blood run down his fingers, and with his other hand he began to slide down into complete darkness. He finally reached a sort of enclosed, stone-cold room.

He fell to his knees and wept loudly, his nose all stuffed up from tears − he felt sticky from his own wetness and blood. He was terrified, but most of all he could not forgive himself for running away like a coward, for leaving his beloved mother to die, Daeron and everyone else, for hiding instead of dying with them with honour.

He lay down on the stone floor and stayed like that, listening to the sounds of battle and screams, until there was complete, empty silence. The pain he felt on his left cheek was unbearable and he thought that although he had avoided a quick death, he would die here slowly, forgotten and abandoned.

He decided that he would rather bleed out or die of thirst and hunger than go out and give himself up to these traitors.

Staying in that dark, cold pit, he lost track of time − he didn't know if days or hours had passed. All he could think about was that the ache in his skull was unbearable, his wound oozed and smelled bad, his stomach twisted with pain, his lips dried with thirst.

He felt that he had fallen asleep only to wake up and cry loudly, wishing for nothing more than to find that his mother had survived, to return with his father and brother at the head of a great army and come to his aid.

He imagined that the wooden flap opened and his queen-mother appeared in it like an angel in a pillar of blinding light, that he threw himself into her arms with relief, hearing her tender reassurances that all was well now.

He shuddered when he heard the screech of wood and the sound of a trapdoor opening, the pillar of light coming from the side of the room almost blinding him and he had to take a few steps backwards, pushing against the wall, his heart pounding like mad.

"Is someone there? I can hear you crying. Let me help you, please, speak up." He heard a soft, feminine whisper echoing through the room − he felt a tightness in his throat recognising instantly that it wasn't his mother's voice.

What if it was a trick?

If there were guards with her, if they were about to come down and kill him?

"I will spend tonight with the King in his chamber. I will order my guards to rest and not watch over my rooms. I will leave the flap open for you to leave, on my bed you will find a hooded cloak, a sack of food and coins. Leave the keep through the kitchen rooms in the cellars. My servant will be waiting for you and lead you out. She will hand you over to your mother's friend, Ser Criston."

She said quickly and closed the trapdoor with a quiet creak of wood, the room again surrounded by complete darkness. He breathed loudly, hearing only the rapid beating of his own heart.

Should he believe her or not?

What if she was lying?

What if they were going to torture him?

He clamped his eyelids shut, feeling a terrible pain in his skull and decided that he couldn't take it any longer, that he wanted it all to be over.

He walked back and forth across the dark room, feeling a sudden rush of energy and adrenaline, the blood bubbling strongly in his veins. He jumped back when he heard the creak of wood, followed by someone's footsteps and the sound of a door closing.

There was complete silence.

He swallowed loudly; over these few days his eyesight had completely adapted to the darkness, so he confidently found the steps of the stairs with his hands and slowly began to climb up. He slid out from under the bed and listened for any sounds, however, there seemed to be no one in the room.

He crawled out from under the bed and stood up on trembling legs, looking around quickly but saw no one − on the bedding in fact lay a small cloak, a pouch of coins and a little bag of apples and bread. He took it all, quickly putting the cloak on, pulling the hood over his head and left the chamber, looking around in a panic, his wound hurt more than usual, all swollen and throbbing.

He knew the map of the fortress by heart and indeed had not encountered any guards on his way, so he ran towards the kitchen rooms and stopped, frightened, when he came across a woman. She looked at him horrified and almost screamed seeing his face, turning her head quickly, disgust and disbelief in her gaze − he stood in front of her wondering if she was going to start shouting.

"− gods, so it's true − poor child − come, we don't have much time −" She whispered looking around and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the servants' passage − they walked through the cramped, dark corridors, he could hear rats running past them, his heart pounding like mad.

After a while they reached a small wooden door, apparently intended for deliveries from merchants − the woman opened it and waved to a man dressed in a cloak, a hood over his head, he was standing next to a large cart harnessed to two horses, covered with a large sheet.

"− I got him − quickly −" She whispered to him, the man stepped forward to meet her, a sigh of disbelief escaping his lips when he recognised in him Ser Criston Cole, her mother's sworn protector.

"− thanks be to the gods − your merits will not be forgotten, woman − come, my Prince, we have no time −" He said impatiently, and he moved swiftly after him, jumping on the cart. Criston covered him with a sheet and after a moment he felt a tug − they moved off and he drew a loud breath, laying down on the wood beneath his feet.

He had escaped.

This woman had really helped him.

When his emotions wore off he immediately devoured the piece of bread and apple that the woman had bagged for him, feeling immensely relieved, no longer even thinking about the pain, just that he had survived.

He hoped Criston would take him back to his family, to those who had survived the massacre, that he would see his mother again soon.

As they stopped he heard Criston's voice speaking to someone, and then the sheet lifted, Cole and a man who looked like a monk stared at him in disbelief.

"− good gods −" Muttered a plump priest in a grey habit girded with a simple rope. "− what have they done to him? −"

First they bathed him and changed him into new robes, and then they took him to the medic despite his pleas that he wanted to see his mother and siblings first. Cole stood over him as they waited for the monk to attend to his wound, his face pale.

"− I'm so sorry, my Prince −" He said low, his voice trembling slightly, but he didn't need to say anything more. He felt a squeeze in his stomach, a burning wetness gathered under the eyelid of his healthy eye. He wept like a child even though he wanted to act like a man.

He thought that he had only survived because he was a coward.

When the medic arrived and saw the state he was in, he prayed first and said that it was a miracle that the infection had not killed him, that the wound needed to be decontaminated immediately and the eye had to be taken out.

A stick was placed in his mouth on which he was told to bite his teeth, having previously been given a huge amount of poppy milk and spirit to ease the pain, however, what he felt when his blade penetrated his skin and began to burn and cut away the dead, rotting tissue seemed like pure hell to him.

He fainted after a few minutes of writhing like an animal and muffled screaming, Criston was unable to look at it and walked out. He was left alone and thought that this was his punishment that was waiting for him from now on, punishment for his cowardice, punishment for not being able to behave like a man.

Darkness and loneliness.

He would not allow anyone to light the candles in his cell, which had previously belonged to some other monk, feeling wonderfully invisible there.

When he covered the small window at night with a thick black cloth he was once again in complete darkness, just as he had been when he had spent those few days that seemed to last indefinitely under his mother's chamber.

Criston had told him that his mother had died after several swords had repeatedly pierced her body, his father old and infirm to the point that he, like Aegon, Helaena and Daeron, had had their throats cut in their beds.

The whole attack had been premeditated − Lord Walford had pretended to be a friend of his father-king to the end, and now, from what he understood, he had been chosen from among these fucking traitors to be King and take his place on the throne.

Cole assured him that there were still individuals in the realm and lords who remained loyal to him, who wanted justice and the return of House Targaryen to the throne, who would support him if he wished to regain the crown.

He practised hand-to-hand combat with him every day in the great vaults of the men's monastery. Even though the new king's soldiers repeatedly searched the entire building, thinking rightly that they might have been hiding the prince out of sheer compassion, each time the monks warned them off and gave them time to find another refuge quickly.

He lived only for the thought of doing to the family of the new king what he had done to him.

He knew that he had time, that he could not rush, that this matter had to be carefully considered.

They met in secret in one of the strongholds of his father's former vassal, Lord Malet, who received him with great honours, gathering all his supporters there.

They discussed what to do, having an army smaller and less well supplied than the royal one, unable to act openly, treating the news that the prince was alive as something that could not come to light.

"I have my man in the King's closest guard; he is one of his ghosts. I pay him fairly for any information, he could bring someone else in there. Some spy. We would set up an ambush on one of the already existing ones, similar in size and weight − they wear the same clothes, if his behaviour did not arouse anyone's suspicion, no one would know." He said with conviction, and he licked his lower lip at the thought that popped into his head.

"I'll take his place." He said coolly, looking at the map of the fortress spread out before him on the large table, the lords looked at each other in surprise.

"What do you mean, my Prince? It's dangerous, it puts our whole plan in danger!" Exclaimed one of them, clearly horrified by his proposal − he chuckled under his breath, several of the men swallowing loudly, apparently wondering if he was still remaining in his senses.

"I am very familiar with this fortress and its customs, I will be able to keep up with what is going on there. When what we're speaking about becomes a reality, I need to be on the ground, taking charge and the throne right away." Said matter-of-factly, Criston grunted, looking at him uncertainly.

"This plan has some chance of success, but it would be best if you were not in front of the King himself, as he might order you to remove your mask in his presence. We cannot allow that to happen. It would be best if you served his son or daughter." He said looking around at the assembled crowd, the men looked at each other.

"We can arrange to ambush her at the fair. My ghost told me that she often sneaks past her guards without their knowledge. If someone attacks her, the King will reinforce her guard, perhaps appointing one of his ghosts to the task. When we find out whom, my man will kill him, and you, my Prince, will take his place."

He recognised that, although it was madness, it had a chance of success, and nothing pleased his heart more than the thought that he would be able to take the life of the man who had destroyed his family with his own hands when the time was right.

To his delight, it turned out that the lord's plan had worked and he had indeed appointed one of his closest guards as her protector. The man was killed later that evening, and he and Criston, under cover of darkness, made their way to the fortress from the side of a forgotten passageway that led out into the woods which had once been used to return from hunting.

One of the ghosts, with the help of a servant who was also involved in their conspiracy, dragged the murdered man out of the castle, and he immediately changed into his clothes.

Although they were a tad too tight, when he put on his mask he felt wonderfully peaceful − the darkness and silence that enveloped him made him feel again as he did when only blackness surrounded him.

Solitude.

The ghost explained the exact rules to him again and informed him where there was a place where he could sleep and rest, although, he said, he didn't think he would ever have the opportunity to use it − they only ate at night and usually slept standing or sitting up.

They parted in one of the passageways, and he moved with a confident stride down the corridor he knew well towards the chamber that had once belonged to his sister, and in which now slept this little whore. He saw the disturbed looks of the guards from afar and smiled at the thought that he would soon kill them all.

They needed to smuggle as many of their men and as many weapons into the fortress as possible.

"You may leave. From now on, the Princess is under my protection." He said coldly, one of the men snorted loudly, angry, he could smell the strong odour of alcohol from him.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" He asked resentfully and he chuckled with amusement − he saw that the man looked at him uncertainly, with fear from which he felt pleasure and heat in his chest.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

The man growled something under his breath, speaking of his insolence, walking away with his companion with a loud clang of their armour.

He hummed under his breath as he stepped against the wall facing her door, the door to his sister's chamber, and thought of Helaena, of how gentle and sensitive a person she was, of how she despaired even when one of them accidentally trampled a spider or a slug.

He thought of how she lay alone, terrified, dying slowly, coughing up her own blood, and felt a pain in his heart, swallowing loudly, his heart pounding hard.

He was comforted when the torches around him burned out and he was left at last in complete darkness − he closed his eyes and decided to rest, work out his plan in his head and wait patiently.

He shuddered and opened his eyelids, startled when he heard the loud creak of a door − a figure appeared in it illuminated only by the soft light of a candle, her large eyes looking at him with uncertainty and terror.

His jaw clenched in rage when he involuntarily thought she was beautiful, though he wished she would turn out to be a disgusting, ugly girl that no one would ever want.

However, he could not say anything about her appearance other than that her face was pleasantly fair, smooth and slender, her nose shapely and slightly rounded, her eyes sparkling, surrounded by a veil of long lashes, her long, slightly wavy hair and eyebrows seemed to him as dark as the night itself.

They stared at each other for a long moment without speaking.

"What's your name?" She asked suddenly, uncertainly, softly, with a kind of innocent curiosity from which he felt like laughing.

He didn't answer.

You are a mere whore, he thought with amusement, who wallows in riches filthy from my sister's blood.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked, surprised by his lack of answer, but he just looked at her, wondering how she was going to force him to speak to her at all.

Ghosts could only speak with the King.

"Should I complain to the King about you not answering my questions?" She asked with a note of threat in her voice from which he clenched his teeth, letting the air out loudly through his nose, trying to calm himself, thinking only of the fact that meeting the King was the last thing he wanted.

He couldn't allow himself to order him to take off his mask.

"Call me any name you see fit." He answered her coolly, tired of her refusing to leave him alone. She shook her head as if she didn't understand the meaning of the words he spoke to her.

"Shall I name you?" She muttered in disbelief and he turned his head to the side, rolling his eyes, feeling that he was losing patience.

"Yes. My Princess." He said roughly and coolly, adding the last two words quickly, reminding himself that he had to title her in that disgusting way.

For now.

She stared at him for a long moment with those big eyes of hers and swallowed loudly, something on her face that looked like she had made her decision.

"Vhagar."

He felt a shudder when she said this − he remembered a book he had read when he was a small child about a great, terrible dragon that devoured people and burned entire cities.

Could it be that she had read it too?

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She said with some kind of pain and regret, as if she sympathised with him − he felt his jaw clench tightly, felt for some reason a tightness in his throat at her words.

After a moment, the door closed behind her and he let out a loud breath, swallowing hard, wondering how he was going to stand it all.

However, it turned out that his suffering was rewarded, because already at supper the next day he heard some interesting information about where they were looking for his body, that the case had still not been abandoned.

He wrote a letter to Criston later that night informing him to leave some false trail in the city's vaults, his old child's robes or anything that would help them think they were on the right trail, which he passed on to a trusted servant aware of everything.

Everything was going according to plan until that little whore took him to see her mother.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of her chamber and heard her voice he recognised her and felt a squeeze in his throat, standing at the door, not knowing where to look, his heart pounding like mad.

The new King had locked his wife in the tower like some kind of animal.

He shuddered when he felt her gaze on him, her lips slightly parted, as if she really had seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She whispered in a trembling voice − he felt a sting in his heart at the thought that he was only alive because of her.

"What?" Her daughter asked quietly, as if she didn't understand what her mother had just said, but she wasn't listening, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked in a trembling voice shivering all over, pale and thin − he felt his lips involuntarily clench, his eyebrows twisted in pain, his heart pounding like mad.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us."

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She whispered pleadingly and he clenched his eyelids, thinking with rage and despair that Daeron and Helaena were innocent too.

"Stop, please. Please. You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you some new books next time, all right?"

As they walked back downstairs he was completely immersed in his thoughts and wondered how it was possible that she recognised him. He shuddered, coming back down to earth when he heard her daughter's voice − she was leaning against a pillar with no strength, as if she was about to collapse to the ground.

"Kill me."

His healthy eye looked at her open wide in complete shock, he couldn't believe she had said that out loud.

Did she really mean it?

Involuntarily, his hand slid down to the dagger he had hidden under his cloak, he tightened his fingers on its hilt.

"Please, kill me." She whispered − he could feel his hand clamped on the weapon trembling all over, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his bones would break, his heart pounding like mad.

Don't take her away.

Have mercy on her and my son.

He swallowed loudly, thinking with pain that he would be just.

One mercy for one mercy.

His hand let go of the hilt, and she moved abruptly ahead, as if awakened from sleep, and spoke no more to him.

As soon as the door to his sister's chamber closed behind her, one of the ghosts came up to him and told him that he would replace him because the King wanted to speak to him. He nodded his head, tense, praying to the gods not to make him take off his mask.

He would have to kill him then, and he wanted to wait a little while, until they were better prepared.

He repeated to himself that he had to be patient.

That since he had endured so many years, he would endure a few more weeks as well.

He entered the chamber that had belonged to his father, originally in Targaryen red, now all in shades of blue − Lord Walford looked up at him from the book he had just read.

"Come closer." He said coldly, and he wordlessly obeyed his order, looking ahead indifferently with his hands clasped behind him.

"Did my daughter visit her mother today?" He asked, flipping the page with an aggressive, quick gesture that he noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes."

The king hummed under his breath, stretching out comfortably in his richly decorated wooden chair.

"What did they discuss?" She asked lowly, and he licked his lips, wondering what he should say.

There were guards all around them, they could overhear their conversation, he couldn't come off as a liar in front of him.

He had to stick to his role.

"The Queen expressed disappointment that the young Prince was not visiting her. She also raised concerns that I was the personification of death, had come to bring her relief and take her life. She told me to spare her daughter and son because they did not know anything." He recited in a cold, dispassionate tone − the King sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"She has completely lost her mind. She keeps poisoning my poor daughter's head." He muttered, looking ahead with indifferent, enraged gaze.

"Take care of her."

He looked at him in disbelief, unsure if he had understood correctly what he expected of him.

"What do you mean, my King?" He asked lowly, uttering the last words with great difficulty. The man looked at him and licked his lower lip with impatience.

"It should look like she took her own life. Preferably a hanging. That will look the most natural. As long as she lives, our family will never move on."

Walking down the corridor towards the staircase to the chamber in which the Queen was being held, he took two vessels from his pocket, which he had kept for himself in case of need.

He walked all the way up, noticing that there were no guards or servants around, the door to her chamber open − she was sitting on her bed with her hands in her lap and looking towards him smiling, as if waiting for him.

"At last." She said softly, her skinny face as if it had taken on a flush. "I was hoping to see you one day. Believe me, there has not been a day in which I have not prayed for you."

He looked at her impassively feeling a tightness in his gut, playing between his fingers with the glass little bottle he held in his hand.

"You know what I came for." He said matter-of-factly, and she nodded and laughed lightly.

"I've waited a long time for this. For freedom." She replied − suddenly it seemed to him that she was completely sober and awake, that she had known perfectly well all this time what was happening to her.

She was waiting for him to come back and kill her.

He thought with surprise that something moved him at that thought.

"I have a proposition for you, my Lady." He said finally − she looked at him sleepily, wrinkling her brows.

"I will spare your daughter and your son if I gain your family's support in taking the throne." He said lowly, raising a hand with a small vial in front of him, waving it in front of her.

"Black Tears. That is the name of what I now hold in my hands. A few drops are enough to fall into a deep sleep − a person's heart beats slower, their pulse cannot be felt. However, if one drinks too much, one may not wake up again. Do you understand?" He asked coldly − she looked at the liquid and then at him, disbelief in her gaze.

"I'll help you escape."

When it was all over he informed the King that according to his will his spouse was dead. He came to her in his own person and sat down beside her on the bed, touching her cheek.

"Did she suffer?" He asked as if in pain, thought for a moment that he regretted his decision.

"No. She just fell asleep."

The King ordered that her body be prepared respectfully for burial and that he contact the prior of the monastery on his behalf to conduct the ceremony.

This is what he had been waiting for.

"She is alive. Move her to the monastery and inform her family what her king-husband wanted to do. Criston will give her an infusion that will wake her up. It is best if she vomits a few times, she may also have a fever and be weakened." He said to the man who had been like a second father to him during his years of solitude.

The monk looked at him in horror, both of them standing over her body in the small castle chapel that had once belonged to his mother.

"− you risk a lot −" He said, afraid to use his title aloud − he hummed under his breath, looking at her indifferently.

"− I am paying my debt − you always told me that a just King must be merciful − did you not? −" He asked coldly, the man swallowed loudly and looked again at the body of the sleeping Queen.

"We must change the body and put it in the coffin at once. Tell the King that there are nasty marks on the Queen's body, probably indicative of the injection of poison. He will then not allow the lid to be opened and will order a burial as soon as possible." He said indifferently and walked away, leaving the monk with his words.

When he returned he headed for the King's chamber and announced to him that everything was ready for a quick, trouble-free burial. The King showed satisfaction at the speed of his work and praised his organisational skills, glad that his face was obscured by a mask so that he could not see how wide his smile was.

Your end is coming, he thought with amusement.

"Summon my daughter." He said, putting a bite of roast into his mouth.

He wasn't surprised by the Princess's reaction to what her father had said, he wasn't surprised that she didn't believe it, that she ran towards the chamber where she had spoken to her mother only hours before.

He moved quickly after her, seeing that she was in complete hysterics, and thought that she looked just like he had when her father's soldiers had entered his mother's chamber.

"You fucking bastard!" She shouted wrestling with him desperately, trying to hit him with a candlestick, but he caught her easily, her wrists slender and petite − he thought if he put any more strength into his grip he would break her bones.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She mumbled looking at him pleadingly, the candlestick fell out of her hand with a loud clink of steel against the stone floor.

She was despairing, her face all red from tears, her lips puffed up and glistening − he thought there was something beautiful, noble in her suffering.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She whined, and he swallowed loudly at the thought that her father hadn't told her everything, that she thought her mother was still alive.

"It's too late. She didn’t suffer."

She spilled into his hands, what he had told her was too much for her mind and heart − she fainted from grief and pain and he caught her in his arms at the last moment.

He picked her up and started down the stairs with her, her head resting against his chest − he thought she was incredibly light and soft, her pleasant scent filling his entire lungs.

He carried her to her chamber and laid her limp body on her bed. He sat down in the chair beside her, spreading himself out comfortably, taking satisfaction for some reason that he could shamelessly look at her from so close.

Her shoulders were bare − the sleeve of her gown slipped off one of them, exposing her naked skin in a way that was inappropriate to say the least.

He had spent eight years of his life within the walls of a men's monastery, devoting himself to training, reading and prayer − the last thing he thought about when dreaming of reclaiming his rightful throne were women and the frailties of the human body.

He shuddered when her body moved − her eyelids parted suddenly, her vision hazy and dreamy, the darkness clearly startling her and it took her a moment to realise where she was and what had happened.

Her face finally turned towards him and she froze, her eyes opened wide in horror, her lips began to tremble − he felt like he saw a flash of a tear run down her cheeks.

"You were supposed to protect her." She uttered in pain. He looked at her with an indifferent expression on his face wondering if she would have thrown herself at his neck if she had found out he had helped her mother escape.

"I did." He saw that she furrowed her brow, furious, so he continued, wanting her to understand exactly what order her father had given him.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the king wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

He saw that her eyebrows arched in pain and regret − she pressed her lips together and closed her eyelids, turning on her side, curling up like a small child and huddling in her furs, seeking refuge in the warm fabric.

"When will it be made official?" She asked trying to feign calm, her voice trembling however, betraying her pain and suffering.

"Tomorrow morning the kKng will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news."

She raised her gaze to him, he felt something change in the expression on her face − she was thinking hard about something.

"Do you still have that poison?" She whispered and he felt his heart begin to pump the blood faster through his veins − he pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, wondering if she was really planning to do what he suspected her of doing.

"…yes."

He looked at her in disbelief as she held out her slim, smooth hand to him, trembling slightly, hanging in the air.

"Have mercy on me too." She said softly, pleadingly, warmly − he hesitated, unsure of what he should do.

He had promised her mother he wouldn't kill her with his own hands, but he hadn't said he would stop her from committing suicide.

He got up slowly from his seat with a loud creak of the old wood and pulled out a small vial of leftover poison, enough to kill her. He walked over to her and handed it to her, looking at her with some kind of wide-eyed excitement, wondering what she would do.

He thought she was only pretending, that she wanted to arouse his pity, that she hoped he would stop her at the last moment.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him helplessly, his heart pounding like mad − he could feel the cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He replied softly, and she sighed quietly, as if relieved, startling him when she opened the vial in a perfectly confident motion and immediately tilted its entire contents down her throat.

She swallowed loudly and looked at him with big eyes, horrified as he was by what she had done, by the knowledge that she was going to die, and lay back, tears of sadness, grief and fear running down the sides of her face.

She looked like a small child.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked in a trembling voice filled with despair and sorrow − he felt his heart sting, only realising a moment later that he was breathing heavily through his mouth.

"Yes." He whispered, noticed how involuntarily her head slowly slid to the side, her eyelids closed, her lips slightly parted.

She did it.

She couldn't take it and took her own life.

He went to her, pulling the black leather glove from his hand and touched her neck. He pressed his lips together, still sensing her pulse, wondering strenuously whether to let her die.

If it turned out that the King's daughter on his watch had died, he would have to kill him outright.

They weren't ready yet, they needed the support of her mother's family.

He clamped his eyelids shut and sighed heavily, taking her hair from her face with his fingers and swallowed loudly at the thought that her skin was incredibly warm and soft − he ran his fingertips over it for a moment as if it were a sheet of water before he reached into his coat pocket and took out a second vial.

He took the cork out of it, caught her cheeks in his hand and poured its contents down her throat, lifting her so that she didn't suffocate, her body began to shake.

She snorted loudly and squeezed him tightly − he reached quickly for the bowl of fruit standing next to her bed and dumped it on the stone floor, placing it under her mouth before her body shook with convulsions.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." He whispered as she began to vomit − he looked at her and thought with surprise that for some reason he felt relieved.

She was merely a tool in her father's hands, just like him, surrounded only by a terrifying, cruel, cold darkness.

He thought with some kind of pain, watching her as she fell asleep, shivering with fever and fatigue, that she was as alone as he was. He covered her with thick furs and lasted by her side all night without a wink, wanting to be sure she was still alive.

He was shocked to see that the next day, despite her fever, she got up as if nothing had happened, ordered her servants to help her dress in a black gown even though her father had not yet declared mourning.

Her expression of defiance, her expression of strength.

She was so pale that when he saw her walking in a small procession behind the coffin, he thought she really did look like a ghost − he had the feeling she was about to collapse, yet she walked ahead, her gaze distant, cool and empty.

He watched as she smiled at her father, as she pretended in front of him only to see complete emptiness appear on her face when he disappeared from her sight, a coldness in her gaze from which for some reason he felt a pleasant tickle in his fingertips.

"It's time to go back." He said finally snapping her out of her lethargy. She walked over to the grave where she believed her mother rested and placed her hand on it, tired and filled with pain.

"No. I won't leave her alone this time."

He looked at her impassively, for some reason feeling that he understood her, that like him she blamed herself for not protecting her mother.

They had both lost them at the hands of the same man.

"She's free now." He said calmly.

It wasn't a lie.

He had never lied to her.

She looked at him in a way that made him lift his chin higher, challenging her. She approached him slowly, her face enveloped in a black veil seemed even more mysterious and disturbingly beautiful to him, as if she were not human, her shape seemed slightly blurred to him, as if she did not really exist.

He drew in a loud breath when he felt her hand on his chest, her lips placing a kiss on the cold mask that covered his face in the place below where his cheek had been. He looked at her in disbelief as her hand stroked his mask, smelling the pleasant scent of her skin, a mixture of lavender and chamomile.

"This is my expression of gratitude for your dedication to the affairs of our family." She said with feigned tenderness, her puffy lips slightly parted, her gaze indifferent, sharp, dark. He felt a throbbing inside his breeches and swallowed loudly, embarrassed and horrified by his body's reaction.

He thought, following her back towards the keep, that they were the same.

That as King he would need a Queen, a woman who would give him offspring and extend his line.

What would unite the realm more than the marriage of two conflicted sides, bringing peace and order at last?

He thought about it watching her while she was bathing, when she let him stay, saying he could watch − he was completely hard at the thought that when it was all over he would take her for himself, that this warm, soft body with pleasant, girlish shapes that peered through from under her wet chemise would be his alone.

He thought of this only to clench his hands around her neck a moment later, watching her terrified face trying helplessly to catch its breath after thinking horrified that she had ruined everything.

She had found the passage.

Why, why couldn't she just leave it all?

Why was she forcing him to do this when only he could give her freedom of life or death?

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against hers − he let out a growl of rage and let her go, heard her draw in the air loudly as she looked at him with a gaze full of terror and disbelief, her lips swollen and red from the blood that, through the adrenaline, flowed quickly through her veins.

She was beautiful.

He sighed heavily, involuntarily clinging to her − she trembled all over trying to push him away, but he was stronger than her. He began to rub against her body with his swollen cock and parted his lips, feeling his manhood respond with a strong pulsing, wave after wave of hot, tickling pleasure flowed through his lower abdomen.

"You are my curse. My ruin." He exhaled, looking closely at her face, her dark, wonderfully long eyelashes surrounded her eyes, staring at him with disbelief, fear and something that made him hot, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her full, moist lips parted slightly − he thought he would have killed for the chance to taste them. "My doom."

He shuddered and lost his breath for a moment when he felt her hands let go of his chest and slide down to his hips, her thighs spread out in front of him, her fingers tightening on his flesh, pressing him tighter against her − she sighed quietly beneath him, breathing louder and louder.

"− destroy me − leave me with nothing −" She whispered; he felt a powerful shudder run through him and he thought it was over, that he had to do it, that he had to feel her.

He didn't believe it when he felt her own hands help him untie and slide down his breeches, he didn't care if she changed her mind − he wanted her and took her. He forced his way inside her with difficulty, her fleshy walls clenching against him, resisting him, a whimper of discomfort escaping her lips.

He was panting and moaning along with her, sliding into her with effort all the way in, with a natural, subconscious movement beginning to root into her, delighted at how tight and warm she was, how with each thrust of his hips he slid into her with increasing ease, his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

She was wet.

"− good gods, you are fucking enjoying this −" He muttered with a sneer and groaned low, feeling her clench tightly around his manhood − he began to slam into her harder and faster, feeling that something was happening to him, some kind of tension was rising and rising, he felt like his cock was about to explode.

And then it happened.

He came inside her, for the first time in his life he experienced fulfilment and it was so stupefying and pleasurable that for a moment he was just panting with his eyes closed, rooting into her again and again, trying to prolong it, listening to her mewling of pleasure, her cheeks wonderfully pink, her gaze misty, her lips parted sweetly.

He stared at her thinking about the fact that he had filled her to the brim with his seed, that he felt fulfilled as a man, as a lover, as a husband, as a King, as anyone he wanted to be.

He had taken for himself the woman he desired and filled her with himself.

Was there anything more natural?

However, he quickly regained his sobriety of mind as did she − they pulled away from each other, terrified. He slid out of her and she moved away quickly, covering her thighs, panting loudly, looking at him in horror, clearly thinking he was still going to try to kill her.

He reached up quickly and tied his breeches, looking at her in disbelief, his manhood still all wet from her juices, from what had flowed out of her after she had reached her peak with him deep inside her.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that he had never experienced something so pleasurable before in his life.

That through his seed she could soon carry his child in her womb.

That she would become his Queen.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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snobgoblin · 23 days

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erm I've actually been nervous to post my Arcana theories here but I really like this one if you'll fuck with me on this

I think that like, the way the characters use magic? is actually based on the Minor Arcana. let me explain

the suit cards, to my understanding, have an elemental association and an overarching thing they relate to in a reading. I'll list out the elemental association of each suit and the traits associated with it, to the best of my ability, drawing from multiple sources including the official Arcana tarot guide, and then when I'm done with that I'll explain how this correlates to the magic systems present in the game

Cups ☕️💧

this one is associated with water, and it relates to matters of the heart, emotions. as well as connections to other people, spirituality and adaptability

Swords 🗡🌬

is associated with air, and deals with internal dialogues, logic, and intuition. it also has associations with decision making and intelligence

Wands 🪄🔥

this one is associated with fire and emphasizes willpower, self reliance, and the ability to take direct action. there's a lot of strong emotions associated with this one, it's a passionate suit

Pentacles ⭐️🍃

is associated with earth and deals with the tangible things in one's life, physical things. it also represents hard work, stability, and practicality

NOW THAT IVE EXPLAINED THAT let me explain how this fits into the way characters will use magic

Asra 💧

i dont think *matters of the heart* represents anyone better than Asra, how about you 😉? not to mention his magic is described as feeling like rain, he communicates through water, he can MAKE water in the desert, in the gladiator battle they can control it too iirc, AND his personal gate is full of pools of water. their teachings also seem extremely emotion based in a way that's hard for me to explain, a very "believe it will happen and it will happen" kind of way to using magic (God I wish I could articulate this better but luckily the others will be easier to explain) all of this would mean they would be operating under the Cups magic system

Nadia 🌬

Intuition is her whole thing! of course she'd be the swords (also notable that Nadia is great with a sword) intelligence also screams Nadia, she knows 12 languages and when she first met the High Priestess all she wanted to do was figure out how the realm worked because it wasn't scientifically accurate to her. decision making is also fitting considering she is the Countess

Lucio 🔥

Lucio is actually a little bit bad at magic according to Asra, so I won't be relying on him entirely for this (you'll see) however, it should be noted that when Lucio summons Vlastomil, he does so by setting a fire and then cutting open the bottoms of his feet. this mirrors how Morga uses magic, like once she cuts open her palm to catch her own spear on fire, and there is no hesitation in the way Morga uses magic, like rushing into portals (not for recklessness, but because she's so sure of herself) and another time she breaks the Devil's chains via extremely precise spear throw, something Asra is impressed by. so! I think the wands suit fits just perfectly when we consider direct action and self reliance in reference to Morga, and I suppose by extension Lucio, if he practiced a bit more

Muriel 🍃

his magic is actually described as feeling earthy at at least three different points, and the way he casts magic is very interesting as well. runecasting, which is described in the game as Muriel throwing a rock and interpreting the meaning. which is a very physical, grounded way to use magic. not to mention the myrrh and protection charms he uses- those are also extremely tangible things, naturey things so I think it aligns perfectly with the Pentacles. I would even argue that Mazelinka falls under this magic system, since she uses plants to make her potions- which is also a tangible way to do magic- pulling from your environment and such

so yeah I just thought that was interesting 🤔

#arcana spam #long post #i could yap about this SO much more but i tried to keep it concise lmao #the arcana theories #the arcana

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demibats · 8 months

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how to survive a horror movie — the prologue

the masterlist

summary; eddie begins rambling about the rules of horror movie survival and the gang doesn’t take him seriously .

content warnings; mention of alcohol/marijuana/suggestive content, death mentions.

a/n: I was absolutely baked when I wrote this and yes, all of the dialogue was ripped right from Scream (1996) and it’s intentional . This WILL be an Eddie x Reader despite the way the synopsis and little blurb is written . It will be in second perspective and will largely consist of eddie x reader content ! cant wait to get the first part out :DD -demi.

“You don’t know the rules?! Jesus,” he stands up from his place on the couch, a tattooed hand around the neck of his beer, the golden liquid sloshing around, almost spilling over, “There are certain rules in a horror movie that you gotta follow in order to survive-.”

RULE #1: “You can never have sex.” Steve laughs out loud, while Robin internally thanks the cosmic entity watching over her that she’s a virgin, and Argyle throws a handful of popcorn toward the metalhead, booing him, “ Big no-no! Sex equals death, alright?” Eddie's becoming more theatrical now, his encyclopedia of knowledge regarding horror movies coming to fruition.

RULE #2: “You can never drink, or do drugs.” It’s comedic that Eddie says this while he’s got a bottle of Budweiser in one hand and enough weed in his system to make a small child go comatose, “The sin factor! It’s a sin, it’s an extension of the first rule.”

RULE #3: “Never, EVER, under any circumstance whatsoever, say ‘I’ll be right back,’ because you won’t be back.”

Steve’s rolling off the back of the couch where he’s been lying since the ladies have made themselves comfortable on the cushions, “I’m gonna grab another, you want one?” He gestures to Eddie’s half-empty bottle,

“Sure-.” He says, half-dustracted, his full attention elsewhere.

“I’ll be right back!” Steve cries out in a sing-songy tone as he turns toward the kitchen, chuckling as he walks away.

Jonathan and Argyle laugh at Steve while Nancy and Robin chuckle to one another at Harrington’s antics, Eddie pointing toward where Steve had been, “See? You push the laws, and you end up dead, Harrington! You’d be the first to go!”

#꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ e. munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic

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pinkjunepeanut · 2 years

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Where’s the Beauty in this Beast?: Chapter 1

Sonic the Werehog in Unleashed gets a bad wrap in the games, and I decided to do it justice; inspired by multiple one-shot fanfics, Sonic undergoes a transformation every night, both physically and mentally.

An adaptation to the game storyline but with a Feral Werehog out to save the world! Small tweaks and stuff to keep readers on their toes, so don't expect a story parallel to the games. We're going all out tonight!

_____________________________________________________________

“S-Sonic!” The rotund man with his infamous large mustache and leathery red coat cowered in fear at the sight before him. Floating ten feet off the ground in a strong aura of confidence was none other than Sonic the Hedgehog, hero of Mobius and Earth, wielder of all seven Chaos Emeralds, and currently, in the form of his ultimate trump card, Super Sonic. The hedgehog’s golden quills flowed free like the wind in the Research Facility, the stale air indoors doing little to tamper with the hero’s purity. Had it not been for the vacuum of space lurking outside the metal walls, Dr. Eggman would have devised an emergency escape route to his next base to fight again (and achieve world domination) another day. But currently being inside a spaceship with no other safe passages to seek refuge through, the great scientist was, in no joking manner, scrambling for a way out. Brought to his knees, he resorted to the only alternative he had… beg for mercy.

“I-I’m sorry! R-really!” He held out a hand, latching onto any speck of sympathy from his foe. “L-look, go easy on me!” The golden hedgehog’s decent only hastened Eggman’s pleas, the latter fumbling over his words as he searched for any way to delay his fate. “I’ll turn over a new leaf, I swear! Just give me another chance!” He last words hung in the air, humiliation and defeat underlying his whining voice. Sonic, on the other hand, merely chuckled.

“Well, this is new. Showing remorse, Eggman?” He opened his hands challengingly and then switched to a joking tone, “If you played nice… I wouldn’t have to break all your toys.” He failed to see his nemesis’ sour frown twitch into a twisted grin and the minuscule remote button in his hands, a mistake he would regret in…

Eggman chuckled under his breath. Three… two… one... “Gotcha!”

“What--” Not given a minute’s notice, Sonic turned to see columns rising from the ground around him as the platform below him began humming to life. He looked over his shoulder and confirmed that exactly eight of these metallic floorboards were blocking his path and caving in like a cage of some sort, the hero trapped in this contraption’s metaphorical hand. And just like a hand, the towering digits were spread scarcely around him, making the crevasses stick out like a sore thumb. Sonic lunged forward to make a break for it but was pulled back to the center with equal force.

No! Rings of chaotic energy sprung to life, igniting the outer rim of the cage’s barrier in a circular form, and striking the hedgehog to hold him fast, the pulses of energy coming in wave after wave. The rings of energy danced along his fur as each pulse tightened around his chest and traveled down his spine to his legs, the crackling of electricity from the machinery doing little to aid Sonic’s comfort. The pillars sparked a ghastly white as more waves of electric bindings were made and then shot onto the Super hedgehog… Even with all seven emeralds, Sonic was struggling under his bindings, the pulses of energy sparking pain in every movement he made. A haunting laugh echoed from afar.

“Ehehehehhe… Eher-hehehe… AHAHAHAHAHA!” Sonic balled his fists and ground his teeth through series of grunts as he wrestled for control but inevitably snuck a glance at his arch nemesis. The ingenious villain was gloating over his victory as he rose above dramatically, the platform he stood on taking him to the next level.

To his right and left, twin rays with bulbous tips glowed a neon purple, their aim remaining true on a certain super-powered hedgehog. Sonic only had a second to stare into the face of evil before the rays grew dark and only Eggman was left seen, grinning madly with glee, as the floor glowing below shed enough light on his shadowed form.

Then, it happened.

All Sonic knew was there was a flash of light and suddenly the wrath of Chaos was upon him. Pain wracked his body, his limbs convulsing from each bolt of lightning piercing his side as he faintly heard his screams of agony, the pain only growing worse. No. He was Super right now, how could this little light show be getting through his invincibility? Another blast of purple energy cut off his train of thought, but he refused to give Eggman the benefit of hearing his screams and bit back his cries. The strings of electricity once shocking him were now clawing at him, digging into his nerves, and tweaking them just right for this infliction to skyrocket even more. They were pulling at him, pulling him apart. No… they were pulling his chaos energy apart.

Whatever sort of lightning and negative energy this was, it was stripping the chaos emeralds from his inner being and it had to be stopped. Must… hold… on! He growled and curled in to shield himself, his will being strong as it fastened its grip onto the infinite power that the emeralds held, a mental tug-of-war playing throughout the torture: his willpower versus the machine. A final shockwave proved to be too much, and the chaos emeralds were exploited from his body, his screams filling the air.

What he thought was his most horrendous moment in life had tripled in intensity as the sickening strands of purple lightning struck his vulnerable body, his now prone form seizing under the relentless shocks. His peach chest hitched, struggling to for any breath, and his teeth gnashed together as a final resort to numb the fire running through his veins. And yet, through all the torture and spasms, Sonic caught his eye on the emeralds, the green one specifically, that circled around him like candles around an altar and him being the sole sacrifice. He reached out in aim of calling them back to him but was caught in another fit of screams, his stubbornness failing as the lightning seared his last bit of hope. Through it all, a hooting laughter sounded afar, Sonic’s ears numb and half-working to only catch on a few words of Eggman’s.

“Ho ho ho ho ho! Ohhhh, I’ve waited…” Sonic shrieked at another wave of shocks. “… long time for this!”

Sonic squinted at the madman through series of grunts and growls. Stop… pain… hurts… HURTS!

The faint click of a button echoed from above, followed by the villain’s next words. “FIRE!!!”

And with that, Eggman’s latest scheme was unleashed.

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littlestarlulls · 6 months

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Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Tav) Pt.2

Part two of this short drabble, please check it out! Again, some small spoilers to the Gale story route in BG3 (mountain pass).

Tav kicks small pebbles as they sit on the monastery roof. The sunrise rises slowly through the morning mist of the mountains and a cold breeze slowly passes through them, enveloping in warmth as the upcoming rays join too. They hadn't found the famed crèche that Lae'zel mentioned, but they were close. They could feel it.

~~~

Apart from the grandeur associated with partaking in the quest of freeing everyone from that damn parasitic worm, the last few days between you and Gale have been awkward, to say the least. Everyone could tell something happened that night, and aside from Karlach trying to tell funny stories and Astarion's quips, you mainly stayed off by yourself, lost in thought.

You haven't spoken a word to Gale. Part of it because you felt absolutely dreadful about your parting words, and another part felt still angry about being compared to his godly ex.

He hit a nerve, and he knew it.

It hurt being compared to someone you could never reach in both terms of power and his devotion. In truth, you didn't want much of the latter, but more wished that he saw you the same way that you saw him: the slightly lame but charismatic nerd that you came to slowly like over the last few weeks. Being compared to her brought up something within you. It was only a reminder that - bomb or not - his heart belonged to the weave incarnation in every single way, even in love. Even if that love came to tell him to end himself in such a cruel manner.

You wince recalling the conversation, the way his face twisted, hurt as you walked away wishing him well in his mission.

You did not mean to say those words. In truth, you were still firm on the belief that there must be something you guys could do about it.

There must be a way to avoid it. The party has already beaten up a good amount of enemies, so what can a dumb tentacle cult do?

But alas, Gale remained frigid in his stance. It drove you crazy to see him drop everything, even his life, at her mention. It was as if Gale himself didn't matter, that he was just but a useful pawn to her game. One that would willingly give himself up for the other chess pieces.

And it killed you.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you feel the wind pass over you. Were you on better terms with him, you both would have enjoyed this peaceful moment.

You missed it. You missed him.

~~~

Meanwhile, the wizard in question laid back in his tent's bedroll. He felt the morning sun as it peeked through the closed tent flaps straight into his vision. He did not mind it, however, as he was currently too busy considering the effects of invoking duplicity and having it slap across his face.

Maybe then it would feel better than the indifference in your eyes every time you glanced in his direction.

How could he have compared you to Mystra Herself?

He screams internally at himself.

It was unfair, to put them up against an overpotent goddess...

His thoughts did not focus on the essence of Mystra's divinity itself, however. Hell, in his eyes, you shone brighter than her. You were beautiful, absolutely enchanting. He would often find himself completely dumbfounded trying to find sufficient words to describe your brilliance.

Through the long journey, he came to fall in love with your essence, your small quirks. He liked to watch as you picked up every book you came to find only to read it later at camp, your extensive lust for exploration, the times when you secretly performed acts of kindness when you thought no one was not looking. He wanted to see more of it, wished to know you more. After a long time of solitude and isolation, he found himself craving to learn everything about you, to see the way you looked at him sometimes, and to hold you the same way you both did when sharing that moment in the weave.

But he had to go and - for lack of a better word - blow it all up.

He snorts over his own thoughts.

Of course, you were mad at him. It made sense. Your words had hurt him as much, but he was the one to first cast the spell. He didn't mean to say you were nothing for him. Mystra, the weave itself, has been all he has known his whole life. Ever since he was a child, he had revolved around the verse of magic, and when given this mission, he could not help but immediately accept it. Why, wasn't it his life's calling to devote himself to the weave?

He closed his eyes. Letting his mind wander around his memories of you, of your features.

That all came to change when you came into his life. You, who saw him as Gale Dekarios, not as the grand wizard that everyone expected him to be.

He had once yearned for divinity, for power just to be able to stand next to Her side...

But with you, he did not need to.

Just to sit next to you when having a meal at camp, laughing as you both watch Scratch playfully pull on Withers' clothes. The creases in your eyes as you smiled and the merry sound of your voice filled something in him, and the way you would treat him just as anyone else without any judgment or disdain had him completely whipped.

That's what made him worried. How could something so simple be so perfect at the same time? How do even small accidental touches of his hand with yours have him sparkle with electricity more than he ever was with the spells of the scrolls he poured over?

Gale sights to himself.

So yes, you are not Mystra. But just as you didn't see him for his power, he saw you for who you were. In his eyes, you were so much more than her, and that's what he came to realize as soon as those words came out of his mouth that day. Unfortunately, they left an aftertaste of the wrong meaning.

...

Maybe he should go with the slapping idea. Or maybe better, let him punch himself in the gut the way you could have done when you both shared that moment in the weave.

He chuckled bitterly.

It's only been a few days, but he missed it. He missed you.

~~~

-To be Continued-

Thought I might let this simmer for a bit as I like it quite a lot, haha. Your tags and comments have seriously made my week and I'm glad everyone likes this as much as I :> I'm not really a writer but I've got hyped up and wanna think of the last part throughoutly. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one!

#gale dekarios x reader #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #angst #bg3 x reader #romance #reader is tav

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lloydfrontera · 4 months

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from your idea are they gonna fake marrying too? 👀 also i feel like lloyd would go 'ha ha ha javier is doing this to keep marbella happy yeah he isn't in love with me. nope it's out of duty'

about this post

well they definitely aren't planning on it, even they feel like it'd be a step too far. i mean, swearing to be at each other's side for the rest of their lives, putting the other's well-being above their own, sharing their hard times and their happy moments, growing old together,,, yeah no why would they ever do that it'd be crazy 😳

so they just. plan on fake dating for a little while and then eventually claim it just didn't work out between them.

except that every time either of them approach arcos or marbella to break the news they end up chickening out last moment cause they're just. so excited. and happy for them. how can they dash their hopes and dreams like that.

lloyd goes to marbella and tries to talk to her about it, but then she starts telling him how happy she is he found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with, how she hopes with all her heart they'll experience the same happiness in their relationship that her and arcos do, and quietly confessing how she can rest a bit easier now that she knows there will always be someone taking care of him even when she's not there to do it anymore, how relieved she is that javier will now be a part of their family officially and that they'll have one another to keep each other safe. also she was wondering if he'd prefer a spring or an autumn wedding?? spring is lovely of course, but she does think he looks absolutely dashing in an autumn color pallete. and oh right, was there something you wanted to tell me dear?

uuhh, not really. autumn sounds perfect actually, says lloyd with a smile, feeling the echos of his internal screaming reverberate inside his head.

javier goes to arcos and asks if they can talk in private, but the moment they're alone arcos just. hugs him tightly and then tells him he has nothing to worry about, of course he has his permission and blessing to marry his son, truly lloyd is already an adult, he doesn't even really need to ask arcos but he's glad javier came to him. he cannot even begin to express how happy he is that javier will now be part of the frontera family in the eyes of everyone, how he'd always thought of him as a son and that he's sorry his hesitance to not take over the place of javier's parents stopped him from expressing it as he grew up. that he's so glad he and lloyd found happiness in one another and that he hopes they can grow old together in peace like he and marbella are. and finally that he knows its selfish of him but that he's so very relieved it's javier who will marry his son, for he knows there's no one on the world he'll be safer with and that will grant him a peace of mind like no other when it's time for him to go. and oh look at him rambling like an old man, was there something else you wanted to talk about son?

... no sir, that was all. i promise i'll take care of him says javier, very, very carefully not looking at the oh so close throw pillow he wants to scream into.

so like. what are they supposed to do. tell the truth?? not marry each other??? not swear to spend the rest of their lives at each others side???? sure they defeated the king of hell, but please be realistic there's only so much they can do.

and god yeah that is exactly how it would go. these two would be staring deep into each other's eyes as they say their vows and be thinking 'he's only doing this to keep them happy he doesn't feel anything for me this is just him being a good son/knight'. but no, i do want them to be together for real before they get to that point, that'd be so embarrassing for them lmao

also in my head they both already moaned extensively about their feelings for the other and their hopeless situation to julian separately. so now he's burdened with the knowledge both his hyung and best friend are complete idiots who absolutely deserve each other. god. someone put him out of his misery. he's absolutely holding this over their heads once they pull them out of their asses and realize they could've been making out for months now and how stupid they truly are.

#hey i got an ask #Anonymous #tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #marbella frontera #arcos frontera #julian frontera #llojavi #fake dating au

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eroguron0nsense · 5 months

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Truly Baffled every time I see people actually interpreting Doffy as someone who cares deeply for his family

Like if we're writing fanfic that's all fine and good, we're allowed to have fun and indulge ourselves, but I always find people in comments sections talking about how canon Doffy cares for the Doflamingo family deeply or somehow reaching for the conclusion that he deeply trusted or valued Rosinante and started mentally slipping after killing him, interpreting that one scene in the big Dressrossa fight where he flashes back to Cora and screams as evidence of this, and I have to wonder, did we witness the same character or did I somehow pirate the wrong version of One Piece? You mean to tell me that Donquixote Doflamingo, Mr "Threaten every subordinate with death if they fail, and disparage them to their faces for fucking up when they're injured defending me", Mr "Order Monet to commit suicide and take out my enemies with her", Mr "My little brother will eat the Ope Ope no Mi and die for my immortality" has any concern for his minions beyond how they function as extensions of himself, and how well they're suited his needs? Of course he doesn't feel the need to punish his executives horrifically for every minor transgression or unfortunate turn of events because he's smart enough to tell there's no need to get rid of anyone who's still useful and still extremely vulnerable to his manipulation but like

This is a man who immediately defaults to disparaging those very same people when they fail in their objectives, and who clearly has no qualms about giving them up entirely if the cost of losing them is outweighed by any potential threat to his operations. Anything that could be possibly, remotely interpreted as him displaying his own brand of care or defending them (i.e. sanctioning murder whenever someone mocks Pica's voice, murdering Baby 5's manipulative partners, specifically studying Flevance to better manipulate understand Law and trying to convince him their traumas are similar and he gets it too, so he'll enable his violent thoughts and help him pursue destruction) is a very nakedly obvious abuser tactic designed either to maximize his hold over them or to treat any slight against them as a slight on his authority. If Oda wanted to make him a character who cares for people in a fucked up way, it would have been very very easy to give him any moment of internal monologue that implies that much, but he's only demonstrated anything resembling care for one person in all his flashbacks and absolutely nothing other than deep-seated contempt whenever we get a flash of who he really is beyond the facade he puts on. I've got a whole thesis on why he likely behaved in ways that were deeply upsetting or harmful to Cora (if not outright abusing him) even before all the shit went down in their childhoods and he killed Homing, but suffice to say that Doffy is a good villain specifically *because* he puppeteers his followers via implicit and explicit control and manipulation tactics, and has no regard whatsoever for anyone other than himself and he doesn't actually need to have any redeeming qualities to be a complex and well-written character.

#donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #donquixote family #doffy #one piece #dressrossa #dressrossa saga #trafalgar law #monet one piece #pica #trebol #corazon one piece #baby 5

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bangtansmauyeondan · 2 months

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HALLI GALLI KING (KSJ | Moonstruck Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Seokjin x Fem. Reader (Married Couple)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (Don't let the cute banner fool you!), Toddler Talk, Food Talk, Mature Languages, Explicit/Suggestive, Mirror seggs

Genre: Mature, Fluff, Minor Angst

WC: 3.9k

This is a bonus chapter of the Moonstruck series, but can be read alone. However, I highly suggest you read the whole series if you want to meet the most comforting Seokjin character (thank you for saying this, @ahundredtimesover); and if you want to feel all warm and fuzzy from the relationship between them and their extensive and chaotic friend group.

NOT PROOFREAD, SO DON'T COME AT ME.

•••

Seokjin was jolted awake with a grunt by the energetic antics of his two-year-old daughter. With a diaper-cushioned bottom, Lily landed squarely on his stomach, accompanied by the joyful sound of her squeal resonating throughout the room.

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily crawled on top of him as her little fingers attempted to reach for his face.

Cracking open his eyelids, he was greeted by the sight of mini pigtails and chubby cheeks right in front of his still-blurry vision. Two little fingers were on a mission, attempting to sneak into his mouth. Before he could fully grasp the situation, a hint of your light perfume tickled his nose as you leaned in to rescue him from the toddler takeover.

“Say ‘good morning, daddy’ and give him a kiss, bubs.” Your melodious voice came through, enough to make him internally smile.

“Goo mowing daddy.” A tiny voice followed before a wet sloppy smooch landed on his left cheek.

“Good morning, baby,” He smothered her chubby cheeks with kisses, triggering a chorus of delightful screams. With a playful gesture, he signaled for you to join the cuddle party, arms wide open for a little morning family cuddle.

“I don’t know what you want to have for breakfast but I cut up some fruits and I’m thawing out the waffles.”

“Don’t worry about me, honey,” he mumbled before planting a kiss on your nose. “Are we going somewhere? Why is she dressed up this early?”

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily piped up again, seemingly understanding what his dad just said.

“Where are we going, bubs?”

Instead of answering him, Lily crawled off the bed and waddled towards a pile of plushies on the other side of the room, picking up a well-loved bunny stuffed toy given to her by Jungkook when she was still a baby. “Tokki!” Lily squealed before running and failing to climb back up on the bed. “Untew Kookie, Tokki and Lily bunny!” She tattled excitedly, using the nickname Jungkook has given her while pointing to herself, fully expecting her confused father to understand.

“JK is dropping her off at daycare and picking her up,” you started explaining. “He hasn’t seen her in a while and wanted to take her to the zoo after.”

“She’s your daughter, Seokjin. She has your height,” you rolled your eyes at him. “If she’s not, my brother will figure it out.”

“Is she tall enough for the zoo?” Seokjin asked, confusion etched on his face.

Seokjin got up from the bed and scooped his daughter up, extending his other hand for you to take. “Let’s start the day already, yeah? We want to make sure you and Uncle Kookie are both well fed before you leave.”

You smiled to yourself as you followed your husband out of the bedroom.

Three years into the marriage, you found yourselves in the groove of family life, with a pint-sized sidekick stealing the spotlight. Mornings evolved into a tag-team spectacle, featuring breakfast skirmishes and a toddler tornado leaving a trail of toy mayhem. In the middle of it all, Seokjin somehow managed to squeeze in his pre-work routine, a feat you marveled at. Lucky for you, the work flexibility of an entrepreneur worked in your favor, after starting your own Home Fragrance business. The evenings however, were a comedy show, featuring attempts at gourmet-dinners-for-toddler prepared by your husband, that usually ended in hilarious situations. From the routine of bedtime stories and lullabies, you realized that your love story had expanded to include a tiny co-author. The house reverberated with laughter, baby babble, and admittedly finding moments for each other became a tad challenging. That’s why you tried hard to cherish every minute of cuddling before both of you drifted into a deep slumber at night.

Seokjin reveled in the luxurious embrace of deep slumber the night before, relishing the fact that today was Wednesday. Unlike other days, Wednesday granted him the rare reprieve from the bustling restaurant scene, allowing him to bypass the early morning alarm ritual. However, this particular Wednesday marked a first – his daughter wouldn't be at home for a good few hours. Since the beginning of the week, she had started attending daycare.

With your pint-sized ball of energy safely picked up by Jungkook and taken to daycare, you found yourselves in an uncharted territory – a quiet, toddler-free home on a random morning. The sudden absence of toy-induced chaos left the air surprisingly serene. Rather than basking in the newfound peace, boredom set in faster than you could say "peek-a-boo."

Glancing at each other, you exchanged grins and embarked on a mission to reclaim the living room from the toy minefield. Seokjin groaned like an old man as he picked up the last piece of toy off the living room carpet before chucking it in the basket - a small Princess Peach figure that may not be appropriate for a two year-old at the moment. “That’s the last of it!”

Without the usual background sound of tiny giggles and babbles, the house felt oddly still. Determined to make the most of your mini hiatus, Seokjin turned the music up and launched into an impromptu dance party, pulling you along and busting out with some questionable dance moves.

Your face started hurting from so much laughter, feeling more like the past versions of yourselves again– Seokjin and YN, young, carefree, and in love. Always been in love.

You both fell on the couch, entangled with each other in an embrace and almost out of breath from your mean dance moves and endless laughter.

“What are we doing next?” You asked, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. “Jenga?”

“Yah… Do you want Lily to choke on those?”

“Okay, no. Scratch that…”

“Halli Galli,” Seokjin grinned before catching the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth.

“We can’t play a drinking game!”

Seokjin shifted and lied down on the couch, bringing you along, making you land on top of him. “I didn't mean Halli Galli…” He dropped his voice a few octaves lower in a suggestive manner, while skillful hands started slowly kneading your ass, “I meant Halli Galli.”

You gasped, lightly slapping your husband’s chest at the suggestion. “In broad daylight?”

Seokjin’s hands traveled up underneath your shirt, skimming along the skin of your lower back. “We have four hours.”

•••

Grabbing the vibrant bell and scattering the deck of fruity cards with a mischievous grin, Seokjin geared up for an unusual round of Halli Galli that you "invented" as a couple. With a sly wink and a confident smirk, he slumped down on the carpeted floor, right in front of you, and set the stage for a duel of lightning-quick reflexes, where every ring of the bell meant a sweet taste of victory for one and a piece of clothing less for the other.

“You think you’re so smart,” you squinted at your husband who obviously has the advantage, as the undefeated king of Halli Galli in your friend group.

“I’m playing fair and square, honey,” he smirked while giving you a once over. “You’re the one who’s not.”

“What do you mean?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m still in my pajamas. You have more clothes on than I do.”

“Whatever, Seokjin…”

“Yeah, right. Whatever,” he snickered. “I’m gonna get you naked in under ten minutes,” he rubbed his palms excitedly while letting out a squeal that’s meant to push your buttons.

“Okay, wait, wait…” You clasped your hands around his and made him look you in the eye. “Let’s take this up a notch then.”

“Ooooh…” Seokjin’s eyes shimmered in amusement. “I love how competitive you are.”

“No staring and no touching until all the cards are cleared out.” Your smile widened when you felt your husband swallow thickly. “You get turned on, you lose. Got it?”

“Deal.”

With a collective deep breath and teasing looks, the one on one game officially commenced. Seokjin drew the first card and the race to spot a matching set of 5 began, fingers hovering anxiously over the cards.

3 bananas

2 plums

1 lime

2 bananas

1 strawberry

4 strawberries

DING!!!

Seokjin’s infectious laughter rang out, infused with a teasing tone, completely in contrast with a groan you let out for missing the bell. “Take it off! Take it off!” He chanted while repeatedly hitting the bell.

You made a show of slowly lifting up your shirt and discarding it over your head, exposing a flattering lacy piece of black strapless material that perfectly hugged your breasts. “Like what you see?”

“Not looking!” Seokjin quickly denied it, but the deep shade of pink adorning the tips of his ears said otherwise. Oh, your poor ‘boobs man’ husband.

You started the second round.

2 limes

3 strawberries

1 banana

3 plums

2 strawberries

2 bananas

5 plums

DING!!!

“Nooooooo!!!!!” You whined in frustration when Seokjin beat you to the bell again. “Why did I agree to this? I will never win against you.”

“Because you enjoy giving me a strip tease.” Seokjin snorted.

“Or you enjoy seeing me strip, that’s why you always suggest this!”

“What are–”

Seokjin’s words got caught up in his throat when you wiggled your way out of your jeans, revealing a lacy pair of panties that matched your bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He sure has seen you in all your glory through the years of your marriage, but the soft natural light streaming in from the window had this way of making your skin glow, giving you a subtle, effortless radiance. He was momentarily out of it and so he didn’t notice when you came closer to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You're drooling.” You took advantage of your husband's dazed state and drew a new card.

2 strawberries

1 lime

3 plums

4 bananas

1 banana

DING!!!

You screamed in excitement when you got the bell first before Seokjin did. “I got you!” You quickly skipped over the deck of cards to your husband, fiddling with the first button of his blue pajama top, “Strip, strip, strip, strip!”

“Yah, what are you doing?” Seokjin burst out laughing at your eagerness, the excitement from winning against him too obvious. “Are you taking my clothes off for me?”

“Can I?” You gave him the puppy eyes that work on him all the damn time.

“Absolutely not,” he said sternly, making you pout. “Sit your pretty ass back down, love.” You scoffed before making a show of slowly crawling back to the other side of the cards in all fours, showing off your ass at him. Seokjin felt his cock twitch. “Fucking hell, YN,” he muttered under his breath, earning a giggle from you. “You know I’m gonna get you topless on the next round, right?”

Your snarky remark didn’t make it out of your lips when you turned to look at Seokjin who’s already removed his pajama top, leaving him in a white low-neck sleeveless undershirt. His broad chest commanded attention, like a sculpted landscape that exuded strength. Of all the things you love about your husband, funny how a simple show of muscles beneath taut skin seemed to drive you absolutely insane that you had to press your thighs together, already feeling the wetness pool between your legs. As his shirt dipped down, revealing a teasing glimpse of his exposed clavicle, your eyes zeroed in on a small beauty mark just below his left collarbone.

Seokjin noticed your subtle movement, feeling his mouth turn paper-dry. He has been internally battling against himself since the first round and there’s nothing he wanted more than to fuck you stupid on the floor right at that moment. But he knew all this teasing would be well worth it in the end. “Well…?”

“And if I get you topless on the next round?” You challenged, tilting your head at him.

Holding your gaze, Seokjin drew a card.

3 bananas

1 plum

2 limes

1 banana

5 strawberries

DING!!!

“Yeah!!!!” Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding-ding-ding-dingggg! Seokjin hit the bell repeatedly in victory before standing up, closing his eyes, and throwing his hands up in the air, imagining a roar of applause in his head like an athlete who just scored a life-changing goal.

“You look like you just scored a goal,” you stood up, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance.

“The goal is to get you naked, you know,” he winked, throwing two finger guns your way. It’s so Seokjin of him and you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes and let out a laugh.

“Is that so?” You sauntered towards your husband, letting a mischievous grin dance on your lips. The air was charged with a sultry energy as you approached, and you couldn't resist a subtle hip sway that turned the simple act of walking into teasing.

You could see the curiosity spark in his eyes, and as you reached him, you couldn't resist playfully twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger and a quick lip bite, before running the same finger along his clavicle, down the length of his torso. Seokjin’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, making it obvious that your subtle movement already had an effect on him. The corner of your lips turned up into a knowing smile when your eyes landed on a very prominent outline on his pajama bottoms.

You’re no better. Had Seokjin not been distracted by this little teasing show you’re trying to pull off, it would be difficult for you to hide the arousal that was soaking through your panties. You were gushing, and aching, desperate for his touch and you don’t know how long you could keep all this act up.

You slowly pushed him back on the couch and he landed with a soft bounce as soon as the back of his knees hit the edge of the cushion.

“You said no touching?”

“I changed my mind,” you gasped the moment the words slipped out of your mouth, not expecting to be pulled down by the waist, knees landing on either side of Seokjin’s hips.

Seokjin tugged on your hips and helped you properly straddle him, immediately feeling the dampness of your core against his growing erection. “Shit, you’re already wet and we haven’t even done anything yet.” He wrapped one arm around you tighter and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Have I been neglecting you?” His voice came out strained in an airy whisper, worry and guilt pooling his eyes. He let his eyes roam freely on your beautiful face. Your silence screamed volumes, telling him everything he needed to know.

“Fuck,” he raked his fingers from the side of your nape up through your hair, giving it a light tug and exposing your neck. “I have,” the sensation of his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin sent goosebumps down your spine. Your eyes automatically shut and your jaw fell open when your husband started leaving wet trails of kisses up your neck, nipping on your sweet spot just behind the ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” he licked a long stripe up your throat, “I have no excuse,” and captured your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue expertly swirling, exploring and eliciting moans from you.

You broke the kiss after what seemed like forever to catch your breath, only to plant your knees firmly on the couch and aggressively tug on Seokjin’s tanktop. “Take this off,” you demanded. Seokjin obliged and discarded his tanktop, throwing it haphazardly on the floor before letting his head fall back on the headrest of the couch, staring up at you— lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and hair disheveled.

You ran your tongue across your lips before dipping your head down and attacking his neck with soft kisses, paying attention to the little beauty mark on his collarbone. You continued nipping at his soft skin, while your other hand made its way up to his ear, lightly rubbing his earlobe between your fingertips, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. “I told you I’m the one getting you topless on the next round,” you whispered followed by a flirty giggle.

“Cheater,” Seokjin chuckled, eyes still closed. “You’re using my weakness against me.”

“Damn right, I am,” you bit back, slowly grinding your hips to feel his painfully hard manhood. “Mmm… you’re so hard right now, baby.” You gasped when you felt your bra loosen away from your body, almost missing the way Seokjin had swiftly unclasped it and threw it out of your sight with one hand.

“Now, we’re even,” he sat up and quickly gathered your hands behind your back, holding them down with one hand while the other started fondling your right boob. “God, I love these tits so much,” he captured the other one in his mouth, tonguing your nipple while mimicking the movement with his thumb on the other one.

You arched your back, writhed and moaned in pleasure, almost positive that you’re gushing through your panties and soaking through your husband’s pajama bottoms as well, “Fuck, Jinnie…” Your pussy clenched at nothing, desperate to be touched. “Baby, touch me, please.”

“Shhh…” Seokjin splayed his hands on your back pulling you closer again, while peppering your chest and neck with kisses. “I’ll take care of you, hmn? I got you…” Pushing your panties to the side, he ran his middle finger along your sopping slit. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby…” He went in with two fingers, slowly pumping them in and out of you while putting pressure on your clit with his thumb.

You whimpered in pleasure as your husband curled his fingers repeatedly, reaching that soft spongy spot that made your knees weak. “Jin, baby, I need you inside me,” you cried out, hands reaching out to tug on Seokjin’s arms.

Without a word, Seokjin slipped his fingers out of you and stood up from the couch, aiding you in the process. He stepped out of his pajamas and pre-cum-stained boxers and helped you in removing your panties as well.

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him back for a hot searing kiss, in anticipation of being fucked stupid on the couch, only to be caught by surprise when Seokjin turned you around and pushed you against the porcelain console table, meeting your reflection against the huge wall mirror head on.

Seokjin tugged on your hips, bending you over and before you realized what’s happening, he’s already thrusting into you with a deep groan, pushing you forward on the console table, making the decorative trinkets and scented candles rattle by the force.

Your legs shook trying to take in the pain and the pleasure of being stretched out combined as Seokjin relentlessly fucked you; the glorious sounds slipping out of his mouth as he took you from behind making your head spin. You whimpered as your head hung low, your hands clasping and unclasping against nothing as you tried to ground yourself. You’re a moaning and whining mess. Your skin covered with a sheen of sweat, your hair disheveled, and your skin blotchy with blooming purple marks from your husband’s earlier assault. You felt him gently grab your jaw and directed you to look in the mirror.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered against your ear. Seokjin’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, his skin also glistened with sweat, and his ears and neck were flushed red. You both stared at each other in the mirror, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans and groans of pleasure speak for yourselves for a good few seconds.

“I’m close, baby…” you whined, feeling the tightness on your lower belly.

“Yeah?” Seokjin snaked one arm around you, propping you up while fondling your breasts, and brought his free hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit. “Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, intently watching you fall apart in his arms. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you moaned out your answer and he took the sweet opportunity to nip at your shoulder.

“Fuck, Seokjiiiinnn…”

Your beautiful sound turned him on even more, and his pace became more sloppy and erratic, a telltale sign that he’s also close to cumming.

“That’s it, baby,” Seokjin whispered in your ear. “I love you so much. You’re doing so good.”

Tears started prickling your eyes, an unbidden response to the overwhelming surge of emotion that gripped you in that moment. A sudden jolt of pleasure snapped the tightening knot you felt on your lower belly free, and Seokjin fucked you through waves of euphoric bliss, until he’s stilling his hips and painting your walls white with his own release.

It took him a good few seconds before pulling out of you and catching his breath, but the first thing he did was take you in his arms and capture your lips into a sweet kiss. “I love you,” he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“But you are around…” you reached up and ran your thumb against his cheek.

“I should have paid more attention to you,” he pouted.

“It’s okay, as long as Lily’s the only other girl hogging all your attention.”

“Of course!” Seokjin dipped his head and started kissing down your neck, “...unless you give me another daughter, you know.”

You yelped in surprise when your husband picked you up bridal-style and made his way up to your bedroom.

“Seokjin!”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

•••

“We’re home!” Jungkook’s booming voice echoed around the house a mere thirty minutes after Seokjin finished cleaning up in the living room, and you went on to start preparing for lunch. “Stay right here, Lily bunny,” he sat your daughter down on the carpeted floor and took a bulky interactive felt book out of her little backpack. “What did we learn in school?”

“Foots!” She proudly smiled up at her uncle while pointing at felt cutouts of fruits with googly eyes from her book.

“Good job, bunbun!” Jungkook softly pinched his niece’s little nose, which made the little one sneeze.

You rounded the corner from the kitchen at the same time that Seokjin made his way downstairs with a change of clothes for your daughter.

“Stay for lunch; I’m making suyuk.” You know your younger brother won’t be able to say no to pork belly.

“Taehyung also brought some pa kimchi from Mom the other day. It would be so good with suyuk.” Seokjin added.

“Oh damn, yeah. That would be delicious.” Jungkook nodded. “By the way, Yoongi hyung called and–”

“Bananas! Bananas!” Lily squealed excitedly, holding up a single Halli Galli card that Seokjin missed while cleaning up.

“Yah…” Jungkook took the card from Lily and paused for a moment, cogwheels turning in his head. Seokjin pressed his lips together trying hard not to burst out laughing. You, on the other hand, looked mortified, silently praying for the ground to crack open and swallow you up whole. “Did you two play Halli Galli while I took Lily out?”

Silence.

Jungkook groaned. “You filthy animals!”

Seokjin gave in and launched into his infectious squeaky laugh, tagging you and your brother along.

The sexy Halli Galli game may have reached its boisterous and delightful climax for the day, but the love and intimacy exchanged between you and Seokjin would forever linger in your shared little home.

•••

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