#ao3 search guide

[undertale-fic-librarby]

A Quick Guide to Ao3 Searches! (Part 2)

From someone who searches for fics frequently!

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This guide assumes you have read the first part, which can be found here! If you haven't checked it out yet, I recommend you go do so & come back to this later!

We last left off with explaining one of the methods of searching for works on Ao3, & this guide will be going over a different method, though this one requires having a specific tag in mind!

If you've followed the first guide, you should be on the Search Results page, where you can find works fitting your specifications. However, you can get even more specific in your search by clicking on a tag that you're interested in finding works in, such as a fandom or character tag!

Once you've found a tag that you want to see more works from, click on it & it should take you to the next page!

x-x of x Works in _____

When you click on a tag, you will be taken to a page with all of the works contained within that tag, ranging from as little as only a few to over 100,000, depending on how popular it is! Luckily, each page of works only contains 20 on each page, so you're not left endlessly scrolling!

Below the numbers telling you exactly how many works there are, you have buttons to take you to a specific page of works, showing the buttons for 1 though 7, if there are that many, as well as one that's a shortcut to the very last page.

You could of course sort through these works manually, if there aren't many or you're particularly stubborn, but you can narrow down the results further via the filters on the right of the page!

Sort and Filter

Sort by - A drop down menu to choose how works are shown to you, up to personal preference.

Include

Ratings - Where you can choose to be shown only works of a specific rating.

Warnings - Where you can choose which warnings you want works to have.

Categories - Where you can indicate that you want works with that category marked.

Fandoms - Where you can choose which fandom tags must be included.

Characters - Where you can add specific character tags that works must be tagged with.

Relationships - Where you can mark a specific relationship tag you want works to have.

Additional Tags - Where you can include more miscellaneous tags to narrow the search to your preferences.

Other tags to include - While the above specifications only showed the most commonly used tags for your specific tag, this is where you can include any tag available in the archive, even if no works in your tag are tagged with it.

Exclude

Ratings - Where you can choose to be exclude works of a specific rating.

Warnings - Where you can choose which warnings you don't want works to have.

Categories - Where you can indicate that you don't want works with that category marked.

Fandoms - Where you can choose which fandom tags must be excluded.

Characters - Where you can choose specific character tags that works must not be tagged with.

Relationships - Where you can mark a specific relationship tag you don't want works to have.

Additional Tags - Where you can exclude miscellaneous tags to narrow the search to your preferences.

Other tags to exclude - While the above specifications only showed the most commonly used tags for your specific tag, this is where you can exclude any tag available in the archive, even if no works in your tag are tagged with it.

More Options

Crossovers - Where you can choose whether to see crossover works or not.

Completion Status - Where you can choose if you're shown works that haven't been completed yet or not.

Word Count - Where you can give a range of how many words the work must have to be shown.

Date Updated - Where you can give a range of dates the work must have been updated on.

Search within results - Where you can input words the work must include somewhere in it's title, tags, or summary. Doesn't have to be a proper tag. Putting a dash in front of the word excludes it from results instead.

Language - A drop down menu where you can choose which language you want to be shown works in.

As stated in the previous guide, most of these should be pretty self-explanatory, but if you're still a little confused, I recommend clicking on the question mark icons.

Once again, you are shown all works by default! it is up to you to filter out ones that you don't want to see!

You also have the option to clear filters, near the very bottom of the filter list, below the Sort and Filter button.

Sort and Filter

Now that you've specified your preferences for works, you can click on the Sort and Filter buttons above or below the filters, they both do the same thing. From here, you can either dive into the works & look for any that seem interesting, or adjust the filters if there are still too many or too little works!

For a guide to even more search mechanics, I recommend checking out Ao3's Hidden search operators cheatsheet, which goes over many things that I couldn't even begin to cover here!

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Congratulations! You're on your way to finding works that are suited just for you! Of course, I'll still be here for any Undertale recommendations you may be searching for! Good luck with your searching, & happy reading!

[ashroomancer]

Can y'all make my ecology posts more popular ;-; if my biology posting gets more notes I'll white an HDG fic, how does that sound? I've got one mapped out and everything!

[not-mary-sue]

Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:

1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.

2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.

3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.

4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.

We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

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A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.

[kiestrokes]

Smut Shots: Rock with you | NSFW

🍒 Pairing: Boyfriend!Choi Seungcheol of SVT x Girlfriend!Reader/You/Yn 🍒 Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. 🍒 Word Count: 2,414 🍒 Genre: one shot, drabble, smut, PWP. 🍒 Warnings: cursing, boyfriend/girlfriend dynamics, google docs is doing this annoying thing of changing every tense of you to you're, so if you see that please just ignore it, it is one I didn't catch.

🍒 Sexually Explicit Content: cockwarming, penis in vagina, edging, multiple orgasms, slight orgasm control, overstim (obvi it's my fave), ass smacking, hair pulling, kissing/french kissing, talk of semen/female ejac, no condom used, slightly rough but not in the realm of true pain kink, Scoups has stamina. Let me know if I missed anything.  

🍒 Summary: You had very good dream, and the only thing that can put you back to sleep is being filled by your boyfriend.

🗝️ Note: Still not technically here, did look at the queue after the KIoF anon from this morning, it will run out soon and all KIoF and BM content has been deleted. It was legit only the post from yesterday. Just tossing this Scoups smut into the void for anyone that finds it to enjoy. Happy bunny-candy-egg-zombie Jesus holiday.

💿 Text Me by DPR LIVE 📰 Read it on Ao3! 🔥 Smut Shots: Mini Masterlist

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols below. 

You whine, low and needy as you surface from your steamy dream. Hands searching blindly behind you for your boyfriend.

Seungcheol grunts appreciatively, hips rutting into your hand as you palm over his boxers.

“Coups,” you dip a hand beneath the band, successfully fisting his semi-hard length.

Seungcheol mumbles your name in a sleep-coated baritone .

“I need you inside me,” you subtly beg, but it falls on drowsy, deaf ears.

Seungcheol sluggishly helps you slip his boxers off, your breathing shallowing at the feel of his hot skin pressing into your ass. Seungcheol’s warm breath fans over your ear, spreading goosebumps down your bare arms and thighs.

“What do you need, Jagi?” He clicks his tongue drowsily.

You drape a leg backwards over his thigh, hand slipping between your legs to find his waiting erection. Cheol moans as you rub him through your damp folds, before sinking him into your pussy with his help. Satisfied he is secure enough, you drop your leg and tuck yourself back against him, hand between your legs to guide him further into you.

Seungcheol’s breathing comes out in shortened pants, toned arm slipping to wrap around your hips as he presses into your tight heat. A few pulses later the two of you center yourselves together and drift back off to sleep, intimately interlocked.

-

You wake three hours later, to Seungcheol hard and leaking inside you. His hips shuddering in effort not to move, broad body folded around you, holding you tight against him.

Seungcheol nuzzles the nape of your neck, “good morning jagi.”

Your clit twitches at the snug feel of him inflated inside you. Your entrance has tightened back around him while you slept and he grew. Both of you start with some slow squirming that escalates into grinding and then flat out thrusting against each other.

You don’t quiet your moans, something far beyond neediness overtaking you. Gripping his thigh so that you can begin working him in and out of your pussy.

Seungcheol groans, grabbing your hips to brace himself, creating a steady base for your actions. As you arch your spine to roll his cock around with drawn out circles of your hips until he can't take it and is pressed flush against your back. His knees tucking in behind yours and pressing his pelvis tight against your ass. You moan as his hips angle deeper than before.

“Jagi-” he rasps, tongue flicking out against the lobe of your ear.

Then his hands are up your baggy shirt, just grazing your breasts and teasing the nipples. So that you brush against his knuckles with each forward thrust, your nails embedding briefly into his thigh before slipping around to palm his ass.

He finally graces you with his touch by cupping a breast and you shudder against him. Squeezing internally and Seungcheol groans pinching your nipple as you rub yourself harder in his lap. Foregoing your controlled strokes for sloppy slaps until your orgasm starts to crest over both of you.

Your neck snaps back, pressing your cheek into your pillow and exposing your neck to Seungcheol which he grasps. Hammering up into you in what you think is to chase your releases.

When suddenly, momentarily the tension is lost, Seungcheol pulls out to shove one thigh up and straddle your other one so that you’re lying on your side with him ready to drill into you from above.

His hands firm on the divide of your hips and thigh as he bullies his way back inside you, causing you to seize at the intrusion and clutch his wrist as he wastes no time setting an invasive stroke into your slick insides.

"Cheol-ahhh!"

“Driven me crazy for an hour, hugging my dick so tight. I’m not letting you come so quick, want you to come hard for me,” he groans, landing a slap to your exposed cheek.

You moan, body stiffening at the delicious bite of his hit. Starting to feel the hot coil tightening in your stomach again so quickly.

Seungcheol smirks wickedly down at you, slipping a hand between your thighs to rub brutally at the sensitive bundle of nerves that sit at the top of your vulva.

Before slamming in and out of you until you stiffen at the direct and insistent contact your hand grabbing at his. When the band almost snaps, he pulls his hand away, hips slowing to taunting circles.

His ragged “hngh fuck,” as he fights off his orgasm. Still stroking, hands bruising into the back of your thigh as he shudders through it.

Seungcheol is not done yet, he rolls you onto your back to lay between your thighs. His arms slipping under your shoulders, hands tangling in your hair as he kisses you.

Tongue rolling into your mouth as his hips rock against yours gently. Slowly building up your climax again. Each thrust pressing firmly into your swollen clit until you’re tightening around him again.

“That's it, jagi.”

One hand twists into his hair as your nails dig into his ass as you wait to explode around him.

His dark brows are a stark contrast for the fluff blonde hair woven between your fingers, form a valley as he pouts. A choked version of your name rumbles out of his mouth as you spasm around him.

“Seungcheol” you gasp.

Each nerve ending on your body awake, from the tips of your toes to the peaks of your nipples. Walls squeezing his leaking length.

“Feels so good,” you mewl and Cheol snaps his hips again.

Fighting through his own tension to pull more pleasure from your already wrecked body. You moan, pelvis rubbing shamelessly at his base.

“Come on baby, I know you have it in you,” he grunts rolling his hips into an upward angle.

Your back arches and you feel that elusive coil being cranked impossibly tighter. You groan as he repeats the motions, arching into him.

“Cheol,” you beg.

“Right here jagi, you have me,” he huffs with effort, his own body shaking.

Your body shudders and you collapse back on the bed.

“Deeper,” you plead.

“Always asking me to split you open,” Seungcheol obliges, lifting your legs around his neck, sinking into you, his eyes pinching shut as he slides home.

You reach down to spread yourself and Seungcheol hisses out your name as he bottoms out. He circles his hips and you gasp at the sensation. How wet you are from your half pulsed releases and his precum.

“I need-“

He knows what you need and folds you down for a kiss slipping out of you halfway at the angle but driving his hips upwards, putting all of his weight into the part of you that feels it most.

“Wanna come for me jagi?” Seungcheol rasps between kisses as you chase his pouty lips.

“Yes, fuck, please” you tense your calves on his shoulders to push back against his advances sinking him fully into you again.

The movement and tensing of your core lets you explode finally, with a sleep dry cry your orgasm drenching his length. Seungcheol moans at the rush of lubrication, hips slowing as he savors each drag.

“I love when you’re this wet” his eyebrows converge and he presses you deeper. “Can’t wait until I’m leaking out of you.”

You whine at his praise, body shuddering as your own arousal trails down the valley of your ass.

“This what you want, jagi? Me to fill you up?”

You moan and thrash against the bed through the echoes of climax, “Cheol, shhh not so dirty.”

He silences you with a kiss, hands braced on the bed on either side of your hips as he presses entirely into you again. Lips smirking against yours.

You gasp at the stretch his cock causes at your still fluttering entrance, body continuing to shuddering uncontrollably. His mouth parts as he watches you fall apart pressing impossibly tighter against your trembling body.

“You're so tight,” he pants, “feels so good when you're clamped around me so tight.”

His strokes are deep and lingering. Your swollen and over teased insides trying to push him out. Fixing you a delirious feel for each veiny ridge of his stiff member.

Seungcheol is quickly losing it to you, his body damp with sweat, chest flushed with all the effort he had displayed. His body shakes as he drags himself in and out of your release.

“Just a little more, jagi-” he grunts.

You nod clutching his forearms as he presses you into the bed heavily on your hips, marking them with something you’ll feel later.

“Cheol!”

He lets out a breathy smile, repeating his thrust with a satisfying wet slap. You bow off the bed, and he hammers into you quickly in response.

“So close, jagi.”

“Ahh-I know.”

And you do know, Seungcheol mocks you for always asking for him to split you open, but you swear he wants to crawl inside you when he's close. Fingers sunken into your skin, leaving tingling bruises you can touch for days. Hips pistoning his impossibly hard dick in and out of your tightened cunt. Always waiting for you, eyes locking with yours and sending the both of you over as he slams into you.

He lets out the most guttural version of your name as his hips jerk against the back of your thighs, spilling a heavy load into you. Powerful thighs and ass still working until your body limps under his from you're own muscle fatigue from the edging. Letting you're legs fall uselessly to the bed from their previous perch on his shoulders.

Seungcheol breathes a soft moan as he collapses over you, hips rolling softly as your pussy still seizes around him. Your fingernails dip into the supple swells of his back muscles. As his face burrows in your neck, fingers tracing your jawline.

“Fuck,” you sigh peacefully.

Seungcheol laughs and you both groan as you feel it deep in your joined sexes.

“Give me a minute and we can go again.”

He means a literal minute, dick only flagging slightly inside you before swelling right back up between your lazy kisses, teasing petting of each other's bodies and subtle grinding.

You tug his face up to yours rolling him over onto his back and start to bounce. His hands fist your hips drawing you back down sharply into his thrusts.

“Cheol!” You gasp as your body bows in the air.

He’s stiff under you lips bitten between his teeth, “harder jagi, please”

You brace your hands on his chest and snap your hips roughly, earning a ragged sigh from Seungcheol. His hands fanning up your back to cup the nape of your neck and thrust back. You gasp as the tingling hits the rest of your body.

“Yes, yes!”

Your body trembles at the desperation in his voice. Hips slamming into your ass and backs of your thighs as he barrels toward his high.

“So close, jagi.”

His big eyes glossy with want as he grunts and his frame starts to shake. Head tossing back into the pillow as he rakes both hands down your back to grip your ass, spreading the cheeks and deepening his thrusts.

“Not yet-” you brace you hand to his chest.

“You want another full one?”

“Yes,” you press a hand to your stomach and Seungcheol presses too. Your head lolls back between your shoulders at the added pressure.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes snap to his, his eyes trained on your pussy and you look down to see a thick, creamy ring forming around his base. Both of your releases coating him, you sit back a little to give him a better view.

“Jagi-“ Seungcheol groans, eyes jumping to yours.

His face contorts into his signature pout as you continue to put on a show for him.

“What Cheol?”

“Fuck me, please, no more teasing.”

He scoops you to him then, not waiting for your response, sitting up so you’re working in his lap. Arms tangling around each other's bodies as you let go of your civility. Pounding into his lap, Seungcheol meets your thrusts slap for lewd slap.

Shakily your lips meet for haphazard kisses until you give up, fingers twisting in the hair on the back of his head and pulling hard so that he gasps.

“I’m close, I’m close, fuck I’m so close just a little more.”

Your body vibrates in effort to fight off your own orgasm, mouth finding his and hips twisting into sensual circles as you fight him for oral dominance. Losing when he ruts hard into you, repeating the motion until you stiffen against him as you're pussy clamps around his cock. You pull back to find him smirking at having sent you over first; again.

“Oh god,” you wail as you tip over, squirting around Seungcheol's impaling, falling back in his arms as your orgasm crests.

“So good jagi, you did so good,” he moans, hips rolling as he chases his orgasm.

His hand crawling up to grasp the back of your neck to gain new leverage and hold you tight into his thrusts. As you float above your bodies at the feeling being fucked into ecstasy as your orgasms stack.

His eyelids shuttering when he shoots his second load into your insides. Groaning and thrusting through his own orgasm, forever need that teeth tingling feel of overstimulation.

“Shit, jagi.”

You gasp, clenching at the sight of him, your hips stutter into working him through his climax until he hugs you to him. He pouts again, body hot to the touch as you send him over. His hands spasming where they clench your hips, your body clenches him dry, walls a tight vise around his pulsing length.

“Stop, stop,” he gasps as his body shakes, releasing a dry orgasm into you as you seat yourself firmly in his lap, thighs squeezing his sides.

Cunt fluttering around him as he throbs against your tight walls. You roll your hips and he lets out a groan, thighs shaking under your ass.

Seungcheol moans into your skin, lips collecting the sweat between your breasts.

“I'm afraid to pull out.”

“Could just go back to sleep like this, you feel so nice, so full-hngh,” you hum rubbing yourself against him.

Seungcheol groans, and his body trembles.

“We’re never getting out of bed today if you keep this up.”

You grin as he pulls your face to his for a kiss.

“Maybe that was my plan all along.”

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2025 by kiestrokes

All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without the limitation technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

[gogogodzilla]

day 31, sex pollen

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, unprotected sex, fuck or die, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, reader gets sad at the end, multiple orgasms, dedicated to @omgbrcat hope you enjoy it bestie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast and wildly in your life. Well, except for last year when you were fighting for your life and running away from everything that was trying to kill you. 

Peeta was a few steps behind you, slower and stumbling a bit due to his prosthetic leg. You threw a glance over your shoulder every few seconds, just to make sure he was still there with you. 

The various leaves and foliage of the jungle hit you as you ran. You hardly even notice as the foliage shifts from a  normal lush green to unnatural shades of pinks, purples, and blues. You did notice, however, when one of the plants shoots a dusty substance directly in your face as you run past it. 

You lost your footing as you attempted to wipe the dust off your face. Peeta came up beside you, arms outstretched and ready to pick you up. 

“Don’t!” you shouted as you slowly stood, slightly relieved that your face didn’t immediately burn off. “I don’t want it to affect you, whatever it is.”

Your ears strained as you tried to discern if the mutts were still on your tail. 

“Do you hear them?” Peeta questioned, echoing your thoughts. “Y’know since you have a Capitol-engineered ear and all.”  

You huffed out a laugh as you listened. You couldn’t hear the familiar rustle of leaves, and you relaxed slightly. You knew never to get too comfortable in the arena, but your lungs were burning and you needed to get this stuff off your face. 

“Do you still have the spile?” you asked, attempting to avoid the way your body felt like it was on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, as he began to hammer it into the trunk of a nearby tree. You prayed that the trees wouldn’t be as hazardous as whatever was covering your face. You watched as he stuck a finger under the liquid flowing out of the spile, checking to make sure it was safe. 

He wrapped his hand around your elbow and it felt like fire bloomed under his touch. He was gentle as always as he guided your face under the water. You dragged your hands over your face as you washed off the dusty substance that had covered it. You attempted to rid yourself of the inferno burning under your skin. 

Your cheeks flushed as you pulled away from the stream of water. Peeta’s touch was fleeting but your entire body ached for him. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

Your heartbeat pounded in your chest with every shaky breath you took. You hunched over, attempting to calm yourself. A thin sheen of sweat begins to cover your skin, and your eyebrows furrowed in something akin to pain. 

You heard Peeta call your name, but the only thing you could get out was a whimper. He was on you within seconds, gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You scrambled out of his touch, thinking clearly enough to know that you needed to get away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, voice desperate and eyes frantically searching over your form. You hurriedly crawled away from him. 

You shook your head, as you pressed your back against a tree. “I— I don’t know. I feel hot,” you breathed, conflicted between clenching your thighs together and spreading them for him. 

 Peeta kneeled in front of you, eyes soft, “How can I help?” 

You remembered before you’d entered your first Games together how he didn’t want the Game to change him. You were thankful that he was still the same sweet boy you entered the arena with. He was different in some ways, of course. No one left the arena unscathed, but who he was at his core was unwavering. 

Your vision was becoming hazy, and a dull ache where you’d never felt it before emerged. You let out a low groan as the heat blistering down to your bones becomes almost unbearable.

Peeta crawled between your legs and cupped your face. You hissed at his touch, leaning into him. You gripped onto his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh through his suit. His touch felt heavenly against your skin, a ravenous hunger for more filled you to the very brim.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Please, Peeta.”

He swiped a thumb across your cheek, and your grip on his tightened. You tugged him closer, your limbs seeming to move on their own. You made a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. 

Peeta’s lips were hesitant against yours as he kissed you. He was always so gentle with you, never wanting to cross a line. You moaned against him, and swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. 

You wrapped your arms around his back and clawed at the zipper to his suit, tugging it down as much as you could. He sucked in a breath as you yanked his suit off of his shoulders, practically manhandling him. You were giving the Capitol exactly what they wanted, but you didn’t care. 

The ache deep between your legs was growing with every moment, and your body temperature rose along with it. Your kisses increased in desperation until you were pleading against Peeta’s lips and writhing against him. 

“It’s okay,” Peeta soothed, reaching behind you to unzip your suit. “I’ll help, it’s okay.” 

You hurriedly peeled your suit off your shoulders, letting out a sigh as Peeta’s fingers trailed over the newly exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of your neck and your chest. 

You ran your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, the feeling doing little to quell the electricity crackling under your skin. His tongue circled your nipple, eliciting a breathy whine from you. 

You raked your hands through the hair at the nape of his tugged and tugged on the strands. A groan vibrated in his throat, and his hands splayed against your ribcage. 

“Peeta,” you whined as he kneaded your other breast and you clenched your thighs around him. 

You couldn’t stand not having him for a second longer and you hooked your arms under his, gripping him tightly as you rolled to the side. You landed on top of him, straddling him. You panted as you finally got a good look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and he was flushed and breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “Is it getting to you, too?” 

He nodded, attempting to steady his breathing. You stood and shimmied out of your suit, tossing it to the side. You leaned down to hook your fingers into the waistband of Peeta’s suit and looked up at him through your lashes. The quick dip of his head was all you needed, and you were practically ripping his suit off of him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken off Peeta’s pants, but you flushed all the same. You were too focused on saving his life last time to worry about being embarrassed. 

You were back on him faster than your hazy mind could process, your hips moving on their own accord as you ground against his thigh. His length pressed against your belly, warm and unbelievably hard, as you dragged your hips against him. 

You reached down and stroked him in time with each rut of your hips. He let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh as you did. Your movements quickened, and you buried your face in the crook of Peeta’s neck. With each twist of your wrist around his cock, he was letting out noises that had heat pooling in your belly. His tip was leaking, and you loved the sound he made when you ran your thumb over it. 

Peeta’s fingertips dug into the plush of your hips so hard you didn’t doubt that he’d leave bruises. The animalistic part of you that had taken control wanted him to mark you in every way possible. Your slick had begun to cover Peeta’s thigh, allowing you to easily grind against him.

Your strokes became more erratic as your pace against Peeta’s cock increased. You both were so wound tight you might burst. You’d never been so aware of your pulse pounding in your ears, and you came with a strangled cry. Tears coated your cheeks as warmth encased your entire being and you spasmed against Peeta. You had a moment of respite as you thought the plant’s effects had subsided, but the drive to ravish him returned with a vengeance. 

He followed you off the precipice soon after you calmed down, back arched and head thrown back as his release covered your knuckles. The fog that surrounded your head cleared just enough for you to realize just how pretty Peeta looked like this. If you were going to die, you didn’t think you’d get a better view. 

Your pace slowed but Peeta was still hard in your hand. The boiling heat still lingered under your skin, and your pulse quickened. You wondered if that was the Capitol’s goal; to make you so fucked out you succumb to exhaustion or burn you from the inside out. 

Peeta looked utterly exhausted and a coil of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach. 

“Just one more, please,” you begged, trailing kisses down his neck. He nodded against you, and you could’ve cried from the relief that washed over you.

You lifted your hips and aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance, gasping at the sensation. Peeta’s hips bucked up unconsciously, shoving himself deeper inside you. A pained hiss left you, and Peeta cried out a thousand apologies, his iron grip returning to your hips once more. 

“I’m sorry. You’re just— Fuck… So— tight,” he babbled out, brown eyes glazing over. You pressed a featherlight kiss against his cheek, thoughts too consumed with his cock inside you to reassure him properly. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, sighing when your hips were finally flush. Peeta had his eyes screwed shut, gritting his jaw in thinly veiled restraint. 

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the tree as you rode him, releasing little pants and moans with every thrust of your hips. 

With each moment that passed your movements became more erratic, desperate to reach your peak once again. Peeta’s hands frantically roamed your body, grasping and kneading whatever inch of skin he could reach. 

He reached a hand between the two of you and drew hurried circles around your clit. He lifted his hips to meet yours, jutting himself deeper inside you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, and you prayed you were the only ones trapped in this portion of the arena. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you clenched around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy, and for a moment you feared you’d pass out. 

Peeta finished with a few more rolls of your hips against his. He filled you to the brim, his release hot and steady coated your walls. 

Your vision cleared as you came down from your high. The fire within you had finally dissipated, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You felt exhaustion consume you as you slumped against Peeta. 

“I’m sorry,” you slurred out, clinging onto Peeta like your life depended on it. Your face screwed up and you felt your throat tightening. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he rushed out, running his hands over your body, attempting to soothe you as quiet sobs wracked your body. Your last thought before drowsiness overtook you was of how much you didn’t deserve Peeta Mellark. 

Your heart pounded as you awoke, adrenaline spiking as you heard someone calling your name. You jumped to your feet, eyes frantically searching your surroundings. Your movements caused Peeta to stir and his eyes shot open, the same panic gracing his features. 

You tugged on your suit, grimacing at the dried cum that covered your inner thighs. You tossed Peeta his suit and pulled him to his feet. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, and the thought turned your stomach. Someone could’ve easily come along and killed you both. 

You grabbed your weapon while Peeta removed the spile from the tree. 

“Let’s just hope our sponsors enjoyed the show,” you joked, immediately cringing as soon as the words left your mouth. 

The corners of Peeta’s mouth quirked up, “I’m sure they did.”

[wannab-urs]

Title: Handlebars

Pairing: Logan Howlett x f!reader

Summary: Logan teaches you to ride a motorcycle.

Warnings: smut, public/semi-public sex, overstimulation, i know nothing about motorcycles, Logan picks up the reader but he’s a mutant and is superhumanly strong so like… he could pick you up babe, pet names (baby), somewhat dom!Logan but that’s not explicit he’s just bossy, no use of y/n. WC: 1.2k

A/N: This is based on a dream I had because, yes, the brainrot is that bad. Thanks to @pr0ximamidnight for the encouragement to write it and the advice along the way.. And thanks to @just-here-for-the-moment for the beta <3. This is my first ever Logan fic and my first ever non-pedro boy fic as well, so forgive me if it’s OOC or weird.

Logan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Logan is teaching you to ride a motorcycle. You’ve always been fascinated by them, but the sight of him straddling one really sealed the deal. He looks gorgeous, powerful thighs astride the gently roaring machine. He leans back, gesturing for you to climb on in front of him. 

You throw your leg over carefully and settle onto the bike. His thighs bracket yours and his chest is pressed snugly against your back. It’s already getting dark out, and you’d be worried about driving at night if it wasn’t for the reassuring weight of him behind you. He slides his hands down from your shoulders to your hands and gently places them on the handle bars. 

“I’ll take care of shifting the gears this time, you just focus on the throttle.” You’re not sure you can focus on anything with him this close, but you nod anyway. 

He kicks up the kickstand and starts walking the bike backward onto the road. You hold on for dear life. He shifts the gears as he helps you turn the throttle. You’re nervous as hell, but he keeps a steady grip on your hands. You start to settle into the feeling of driving and your mind drifts. You think about his body pressed against yours, about the steady vibration of the motor between your legs, and you start squirming. 

It’s dark out and you can barely see a thing outside of the range of the headlight. But you feel everything, almost as if your senses are heightened. You grind against his erection, inadvertently pressing your clit harder against the seat and you whimper. 

“Pull over,” he growls in your ear. 

You nod, his nose brushing your neck, and slow down. You guide the bike into a seemingly abandoned parking lot. Logan turns the bike off and drops the kickstand. He pulls you tight against his body. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you right here? Out in the open?”

“Please,” you whine. 

“Lean forward,” he commands, his voice so low you barely hear him. 

You lean forward, lifting your hips. You hear him unsheathe a claw and you tense slightly. He carefully slices a hole in your leggings and panties, exposing you to the night air. 

“I liked these, Logan.”

“I’ll buy you more.” That’s all the warning you get before he sheathes his claw and buries two fingers inside you. 

You cry out, gripping the handlebars hard. He steadies you with a gentle grip on your waist while he fucks his fingers in and out of you, You’re soaking wet and already desperate, grinding down on his fingers. His hand on your waist slips down and finds your bundle of nerves. Your left hand drops from the handlebars to grip his wrist as his fingers circle your clit. Your fingernails dig in hard enough to leave marks on anyone but him and your cunt pulses around his thick digits. He hits the spongy part deep inside you, making you shake and whine as you come on his fingers. 

While you catch your breath, Logan unzips his jeans. He grips your waist in his huge hands and lifts you with his superhuman strength, easily spearing you on his cock. Even with the preparation, he stretches you almost painfully. Your hands search for something, anything, to hold on to and land on the handlebars again. After giving you a moment to adjust, he starts bouncing you on his cock. You moan loudly and his grip on you tightens. 

“Feel good, baby? Filthy thing, riding me out in the open like this.”

You aren’t capable of speaking, not with his cock hitting you so deep inside. You’re not really riding him so much as he’s using you like a fleshlight. Your eyes roll back into your head as you come on his cock. He doesn’t stop bouncing you until your cunt stops clenching around him. His hand presses firmly in the middle of your back, pushing you forward until your head is past the handlebars. 

“Give me one more,” he orders. “Not done with you yet.”

You’re powerless to deny him, and really you’d give him anything he asked for. He wraps one arm around your waist and brings the other hand to your clit again. He pounds up into you, setting a brutal rhythm and hitting a spot that makes your vision white out. You cling to the handlebars for stability, crying out as his tip hits your cervix. You tense up in his arms, whole body going taut with ecstasy.  

“That’s it baby, come for me,” he growls. 

The rolling waves of pleasure feel endless, still speared on Logan’s cock as he fucks into your clenching pussy. His grip on you tightens impossibly, bruisingly as he floods your cunt with his cum. You cry out, writhing in his arms. When you finally come down, Logan’s strong arms pull you back against his chest. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder.

“Are you okay, baby?” Logan’s voice is tinged with worry. 

You nod weakly and mumble a yes into the chilled air. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“Mm mm,” you slowly shake your head from side to side. He didn’t hurt you, you’re just completely overwhelmed. 

He gently lifts you off his slowly softening cock, keeping an arm around you as he tucks himself away. He holds you tight against him until you eventually come back down to earth. You press a chaste kiss to his neck and nuzzle against him a bit before sitting up. You grip the handlebars again and wince as your oversensitive clit presses into the seat. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Logan asks, lifting the kickstand and starting the bike up. 

You whimper as the vibrations of the motor course through your body but bite your lip and nod.

“Hang on tight, baby. I’ll get us home.” You can almost hear Logan’s smirk.

Again nestled between Logan’s thick thighs and pressed firmly against his broad chest, but now with your bare cunt pressed into the seat of the bike, the ride home is absolute, exquisite torture. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, making a mess of what remains of your leggings and the seat beneath you. You’re shaking by the time you make it back to your apartment. 

Logan parks the bike and shuts it off. He climbs off and helps you to your feet. You stumble a little but manage to stay upright with his help, giggling to yourself at your jello legs. You unlock the door of your apartment and you’ve barely stepped inside before Logan sweeps you off your feet. 

“I can walk, Logan. Seriously, I’m fine.”

He huffs and carries you to the bedroom. “I know, but I want to take care of you.”

He lays you gently on the bed, unlaces and removes your boots, and strips off your ruined leggings. Left only in a t-shirt, you watch him methodically remove his clothing and admire his thickly muscled torso. The smattering of hair on his broad chest glinting silver in the moonlight – he’s so perfectly gorgeous you can hardly stand it. 

He crawls into bed beside you and pulls you against his chest. He grabs your thigh and pulls it across his body so that you’re nearly laying on top of him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fall asleep in his arms, wondering if he’ll make you clean the bike seat tomorrow.

part two

[ovaryacted]

GUILTY AS SIN || II. VETITI FRUCTUS

─ General Marcus Acacius x fem! virgin! reader || WC: 11.5k

SYNOPSIS: After General Acacius hangs you out to dry, you're sure he no longer wants anything to do with you. Yet, when he confronts you while your father is away for business matters, he tries to prove you wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Girthy age gap [Acacius is 50/reader is early 20s]. Explicit Language. Formal dialogue. Virginity loss. Unprotected p in v. Pull-out method. Oral sex (f! receiving). Fingering. Mirror sex. Light handjob. Praise kink. Size kink. Marking kink (if you squint). Dirty talk. Marcus guides you through it. Breast/nipple play. Terms of endearment (dove, little dove, mea columba). Misunderstandings & angst. Jealousy. Confessions. Mentions of misogyny, patriarchal norms, & customs. Mentions of societal beauty standards. Reader has hair & wears dresses & jewelry. Marcus the Munch makes his debut. Not historically accurate.

➣ Note: Reader's Father’s Name - Julianus Novius Lurio. Handmaiden name - Viria.

A/N: This chapter took me such a long time to write and I apologize for that, but I'm glad I was able to finish it. I did this for the 5 mutuals that wanna fawk Marcus Acacius like I do! Big thank you to @gothcsz for the constant encouragement and feeding my love for the General. Anyways, reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | PREV CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | AO3

You had awoken the following morning to an empty bed and disheveled sheets, not a trace of Acacius left behind, at least to the naked eye. Your fingers searched over the silk that covered your mattress for any possible remnant of the man you had spent all night dreaming about, the buttery material cool to the touch. Curiously, you drew your face closer to the pillow beside your head, digging your nose into the plush cushion, hoping to find something reminiscent of the General.

Faintly embedded in the covers, you caught it: small hints of almond oil and basil smudged under your nostrils; you’d recognize that scent anywhere. All it did was confirm what you needed to know, that what transpired last night wasn’t a dream.

Resting once more on your bed, your eyes closed as you made sense of the things you did last night, what you felt. A part of you knows you’ve stepped into risky territory with the General, tempting him in such a way you gave him your first set of kisses, and in return, he gave you the first taste of forbidden pleasure. If you thought long enough, you could still feel the thick muscle of Acacius’ thigh between your legs, his plush lips trailing kisses over the side of your neck, his voice whispering the praise you sought after. Just thinking about it brought a throb to your core, something new that caused you to exhale a deep breath.

A tentative knock at your door snapped you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you sat up straighter on the bed and called out to the inquisitor. The door to your bedroom opened, with Viria appearing on the opposite end, slightly bowing forward at your presence.

“Oh, you are awake, my lady.” She acknowledged warmly, coming to your side of the bed, silently taking in your appearance. She didn’t say much about how the other side of your bed appeared used, but she watched over you with a knowing glance. “Shall I prepare a bath for you? Your father is said to make his return before midday.”

“Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you, Viria.” She nodded, stepping out of your room to order the other servants to set up the bathing chamber.

As you stripped yourself of your sleep gown and slipped into the scented bath water, you cleansed your body of last night’s conduct with the pumice stone, ridding the ghost of Acacius’ touch and replacing it with the scent of jasmine and olive oil. Viria had helped you dress once your skin had dried, layering the flowing material of your stola and fastening it with a golden brooch. As she styled your hair while the other servants took care of preparing for your father’s arrival, you glanced at her apprehensively through the mirror in front of you.

“Viria, did you see anyone leave the domus in the night?” She paused styling your hair momentarily, releasing the curled strands in her hand before placing them on your shoulder.

“If you are asking about the General, yes, I saw him leave before the others awoke at dawn. He left quietly without a word; I am sure he had not been spotted.” Viria’s words did little to provide you any comfort, a slight sense of defeat washing over you as your head filled with unanswered questions.

“Did he spend the night with you?” She asked cautiously, a wary look gracing her features as she tried to understand you. “Was he…was he forceful with you?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. He was not like that…quite the opposite actually.” You were nervous to speak the truth to the one person you trusted in your home after all of these years, wringing your fingers over your lap. “We kissed.”

“You kissed the General?” Viria commented in hushed shock, receiving a bashful nod of your head. “And you wish to deprive me of such information?” Her lighthearted approach to her probing eased you slightly, chuckling lightly along with her.

“No, I do not plan on doing such a thing. It was bliss what we did, I have never felt anything like it. Yet, we avoided the very thing I hear so much from other people. It’s strange.” While you spoke, Viria resumed styling your hair, isolating each riveting curl to fall down your back. “Though, I am rather confused on how to feel. He confuses me…” You slumped your shoulders and looked off to the side.

“Well, he is a complicated man, I am sure he has his reasons for leaving without notice. But, so long as he treats you with respect and not like a barbarian, that should be sign enough that he is considerate of you.” You hummed at that, feeling another squeeze on your shoulders. “Perhaps you should speak to him afterwards, once you two have a moment alone.”

You left the conversation at that, adding the finishing touches of your look for the day, a simple set of earrings paired with a jeweled necklace, tying it together with some scented oil on the sides of your neck. The rest of the morning was focused on making sure your home was prepared for your father’s return. The servants kept themselves busy by sweeping and scrubbing the floors, placing fresh flowers in the vases by the entryway while others cooked a welcoming feast and fetched the best aged wine in the reserve.

Your father arrived just as the sun reached the halfway point in the sky, the guards at the front door lowered their heads to welcome the man that paid them. Standing beside Viria and some of the other servants to honor him, you all offered him a bow of respect as he walked down the entryway, nodding in approval at the scene before him.

“Stand, child.” He commanded, straightening your back to look at the man before you in the eye. He looked you over once or twice, the end of his lip faintly coiled upwards, patting you on the arm before walking down the line and thanking the other members for their kind welcome. Strolling behind him, lunch was a quiet affair, consisting of light conversation between the bites of food prepared for the day.

“How was your trip, father?” You asked him, sitting across from the man at the dinner table.

“It was fine. Some of the other politicians in the provinces had conflicts they asked my input on, nothing to cause much concern over.” His fork dug into a piece of pork, munching away at the piece of meat and washing it down with the wine in his goblet. “How have things been in the city since my departure?”

“No change since you left. Rome remains the same.” You took tentative bites of your meal, pacing your swallows the way you’ve been trained to. Posture tall and shoulders drawn back, always so careful not to irritate your father.

“And what of your marriage affairs?” The question immediately spoiled your appetite.

“I believe that is intended to be your duty, to find me a husband worthy of partnership.” You chose your words and delivery carefully, taking a sip of wine to manage the nausea you could feel coming.

“When I find a man who offers the right price for your hand, then I will consider it. I refuse to have you bring shame to my name and my legacy by bedding with a commoner. I did not raise you to be a whore after all, unless I am wrong in my judgment?”

The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you met your father’s piercing gaze, eyes widening at his insinuation. It should be no surprise to you, these were the same comments you’ve heard for most of your life since reaching the appropriate age for marriage. The price was never enough, or your father was too busy establishing himself as a man of politics to care for your future outside of being his emotional punching bag. The thought of him figuring out your affections towards the General made your stomach churn, and you knew then that there was no possibility of your union happening with his approval.

“No, father, I understand. I shall wait for you to approve such a union.” He responded with a satisfactory hum, gulping the rest of his wine and snapping at one of the servants for a refill. You did your best to finish the rest of your meal, growing impatient to avoid more of your father’s temperament.

Luckily, he remained busy with his work in the Roman Senate, frequent meetings with the other politicians and leaders kept him out of his home more often than not, leaving you to your own devices as you’ve grown accustomed to. Though leaving you alone to your thoughts granted you time to think about Acacius or where he was as of late. You haven’t heard from him since the night he snuck into your room and offered more than conversation, the night replaying on a loop in your mind and in your dreams.

It was almost one full moon cycle before you saw him again.

The front doors of your domus opened, welcoming the sound of heavy footfalls and the metallic clicks of armor. You’ve trained yourself to recognize when Marcus was present in your home, the staccato of his steps echoing the walls of your entryway, exactly how you remembered. You made your way to the atrium like you always have, ensuring you’d get a good look at him as he stepped through the halls to speak with your father.

The moment you saw the top of his head, you were expecting him to turn and meet your eyes. Desperate for the soft chocolate irises to hold your gaze for that one moment to signify he was okay, that things hadn’t changed between you, that he hadn’t lost interest in you.

Except he never did.

You watch with furrowed eyebrows as Acacius walks beside your father towards his study wearing his black and gold armor, the signature red shawl thrown over his broad shoulders. His face remained hardened, jaw firm and eyes sunken as he kept them forward, body stiff and head stuck in place with no sign of turning.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

The doors of your father’s study closed with no change, the sight of Acacius now kept hidden from you, savoring the last bits of his back and graying curls before you were shunned out in the dark. Standing there full of confusion, your chest stung at the slight dejection you just witnessed.

Has he grown bored of you so soon? 

You retreated to your bedroom again, refusing to see Acacius going through the front doors. Keeping to yourself, you disregarded the sound of his voice through the walls, commenting on something the twin Emperors had requested for the next Senate meeting. He parted ways from your father and trekked to the doors, surely on his way to speak to whoever demanded his attention. Unbeknownst to you, he glanced in the direction of the atrium and further to your room for a mere second, walking out of your home without turning back.

The next time you went to the market for some goods, you stopped by the garden you and Acacius claimed for yourselves, searching everywhere for a note or a sign to explain his sudden behavior. The place was just as you left it previously, looking by the fountain and the marble bench to see nothing left behind, peeking around the trunk of the massive tree and the weeds surrounding it to see if you had missed anything.

Not a note. Not a flower. Nothing for you to find.

Had he even thought of you during this time?

Were you so easily forgettable?

You didn’t have the time to continue rummaging before Viria stated it was time to return home. Taking your baskets and stomping out of the garden, you controlled your breathing as much as you could, brushing off the disappointment and the hurt brewing inside you. It was delusional to think you would be anything but someone’s plaything, a naive little girl yearning to be seen as a woman capable of making her own choices.

You were stupid to think the General viewed you as something other than a toy to occupy his time, and nothing would change your reality, no matter how much you wanted things to be different.

Anxiety gnawed at your gut from sunup to sundown, restless nights spent wasting away questioning yourself and your worth to the man you’ve opened up to. You ran through the multitude of possibilities to explain his sudden rejection, finding any loophole to give Acacius the benefit of the doubt put you on the verge of losing your mind from the stressors.

You’ve heard of the recent campaigns initiated by the twin emperors to satisfy their lust for violence, your father spending lengthy periods in his study noting the financing to the army, lingering by the door in case his drunken mumbles revealed any news of the General and his location.

Last you heard, he was along the coast of Alexandria in Egypt, standing at the ready to combat runaway rebels of the army. Resting was a hassle; your clammy skin and hyperactive mind kept you awake throughout the night, with Viria offering teas to soothe your nerves by morning. It was useless; too much of your psyche was tethered to a man who had made it obvious he no longer cared for your existence. Yet you still prayed for his safe return every night, for respite and favor from the twin leaders who were hellbent on jerking their lapdog’s leash.

The news of the army’s successful conquest didn’t surprise you, nor did the extended invitation you and your father received to another one of the emperors’ banquets. However, the thought of being in the same space as the General once more, much like how it had first been when you two initially met, brought bile creeping up your throat. You prayed the wine they served would quell your worries; at this rate, you’ll drown in it one way or another.

Heeding your father’s commands, you dressed in all white and gold, a jeweled armband cuffed around your bicep with opals draping down your open back. Your hair was folded into a neat array of braids, some bordering around a pinned bun and the rest melting into your wavy tresses layered neatly around your neck.

With your hand taking its place around your father’s arm, you held the folds of your stola with your free hand, adopting the facade of sociability with grace. It was the same routine as usual, nodding your head when you were acknowledged, letting the men offer their sons’ hands in marriage or their own while laughing off their propositions and feigning a playful smile.

Amongst the crowd of opulent wealth and overindulgence, the urge to search for the one face you cared to look for was hard to ignore. Subtly turning on your heel and heading for more wine, that was when you spotted him.

General Acacius, draped in his signature white and golden armor, the cape flowed behind him, golden cuffs on his thick wrists. His hair had grown since the last time you saw him, grayer than you remembered, curling down the nape of his thick neck. From afar you could count a new scar on his forearm, a shade of light pink contrasting his tanned skin. He was still relatively the same, the same Acacius, your Acacius.

But he wasn’t alone.

Perched beside him was a woman you’d never seen before, at least not in the streets of the city from where you usually ventured off. Dark raven hair with a singular streak of gray and golden pins ornate her head, almond-shaped eyes as blue as the sea, smudged in dark pink and lashes darkened with ink. The green material of the fabric adorning her slim figure cascaded around her pronounced waist, her chin angled upwards with confidence and a permanent smirk on her oval face.

You didn’t miss how her hands clutched onto Acacius’ bicep, her nails scratching at the muscle, grip steady and consistent, never once parting from him. It was as if she was purposefully taunting you, proving a point that he was only hers to have. Hers to touch. Hers to claim. That he was never yours to begin with.

She was older, refined, established. Everything you weren’t.

The way Acacius’ hand clasped over hers and looked her way with the same charming grin he wooed you with tore your heart in two, the glass in your hand shook from your weak grip as you observed the scene from afar. The room began to spin, and your breath caught in your throat, rib cage rattling around your lungs as the white fabric you wore grew tight, constricting around your frame.

It was too much.

Pushing through people to reach the balcony, you were thankful the space had been empty for some time, everyone’s attention drawn to the boar that was brought out to be served. Tightly gripping the railing, you struggled to take a steady intake of air, knuckles turning white against the marble guarding you from falling over the edge of the hill. The tears lining your eyelids burned, threatening to flow down your cheek and leave their mark.

It was idiotic and embarrassing more than anything. To think you would be the one chosen for once, desired and sought after the way you wanted. Jealousy. An all-new emotion to you, one you did not preferably enjoy. The image of that woman smiling with glee while she relished in the attention she received from Acacius seared into your mind, filling you with disgust, a fiery irritation burning in your chest.

She has what you’ll never come close to. Nothing would be able to change that.

Pivoting on your heel to the sound of hasty footsteps behind you, your teary gaze was met with Acacius’ furrowed eyebrows, concern written all over his war-worn face. Quickly wiping at the corners of your eyes, you made a pathetic attempt at keeping your head high, brushing off the seething rage overpowering the betrayal bubbling inside you. Whether you were mad at Acacius directly or the witch who selfishly caressed him, you weren’t all too sure.

“General. Congratulations on the success of your campaign.” Your voice grew strained as you spoke, face hardened with the reaffirmed formalities.

“I give you my thanks,” Acacius replied, gauging your body language and expression as you played into the dismissive and cold act towards him. You cut him off before he could speak a second time.

“I shall let you enjoy the balcony in peace.” In an effort to excuse yourself, you paced to the banquet entrance. Just as you were about to pass Acacius, his hand came to grip your forearm, stopping you in place in front of him.

“Dove.” He whispered firmly, his voice seeping into your mind, a shaky exhale escaping you from the sheer closeness of him, your body betraying you at his missed touch.

“Do you give all of your playthings nicknames as well?” Tearing your arm away from his grip, you faced him directly with a bit of distance between you, uncovered anger in your emotional eyes. “Or is that only when you have yet to grow bored of them?”

“Playthings?” He squinted at you, stepping closer with a slight puff of his chest at the insinuation.

“The woman on your arm,” just mentioning her burned your tongue and sent your blood boiling, practically smelling her on him, “I was unaware of your…tastes.”

“She is merely a party guest.”

“A guest?” You fought the urge to laugh sourly in his face, taking offense to his sudden aloofness.

“You do not believe me?” Acacius tilted his head, and for a second you would think he sounded confused, even hurt. You didn’t bother having enough faith in him to find out. “Or would it be more convenient to paint me as a liar?”

“It certainly suits the current circumstances between us. One does not attempt to woo a girl and disposes of her for a replacement. But that is how this works, is it not?” Your words were laced with venom, striking a nerve when you noticed Acacius growing stiff, his back straightening more, fingers flexing by his side as realization dawned on him.

“I can explain everything, dove, please.” The authoritative tone he had with you wavered as the conversation progressed, edging to the point of pleading when those brown orbs landed on you. 

“No. I do not wish to hear it.” Unyielding in your decision to shut him out, your ears tuned into the level of noise at the banquet, needing to turn back before someone grew suspicious of your whereabouts. “Vale, General Acacius. I will pray for your continuous prosperity on behalf of the empire.”

Hurriedly parting from him, you were quick to leave Acacius alone on the balcony to meddle in his own thoughts. Your body vibrated for the duration of the outing, occupying yourself with whatever wine, meal, and conversation you came close to. For the remainder of the night, you refused to look over in the General’s direction, not caring whether his guest was stroking his broad chest or holding his hand. Yet, you could feel his eyes on you the entire time, stealing glances when he could without making it too obvious, burning holes into the back of your head whenever a man approached you, offering them a petty bat of your lashes.

You were thankful that your father suggested taking his leave not too long after that fiasco of a conversation, not looking back at the attendees much like Acacius had done when he blatantly ignored your presence in your own home. Wishing the man of the house goodnight and storming past Viria towards your bedroom, the dam you constructed collapsed, and the tears you’ve been withholding flowed over the material of your pillow, sobbing long into the night until dawn broke the next morning.

It was never going to be you. That was just how things were, and how they’ll always be.

The days have gone by in a blur, repeating the same endless cycle of the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. You hadn’t stepped foot outside of your home much, foregoing your usual visit to the market and instead handing Viria a list to check off. She tried her best to put you in higher spirits, bringing you fresh flowers and your favorite fruits from her shopping trips, but it was no use. The frown remained permanent on your face, and your appetite had dwindled since the night of the banquet, not being able to keep anything down besides liquids for the most part.

Your father inquired about your change of attitude, and the only excuse you could offer was worry from the hecticness of the empire, the rapid changes around you frequently making your head spin. He didn’t bother probing more than he thought necessary, reminding you to maintain your strength unless you wished to plunge your household into despair due to your insolence. That night, you forced yourself to eat a loaf of bread and a side platter of cheese, leaving the dish clean despite the urge to throw it back up.

Senator Lurio was on his way to another trip for political matters out of the safe confines of the city. You almost had half a mind to ask your father to take you with him, to grant you some space from Rome, another sight that wouldn't bring so much anxiety. He declined, as you expected, waving you off and ordering you to pray for his safe return. At least you no longer had to play pretend when it came to your sadness and heartbreak, Viria grew concerned for your well being regardless of the number of times you brushed her off and sat at the fountain feeding the koi fish, fingers strumming the water for hours.

The night was silent and empty, your mind a contradiction to the serenity your domus should provide. The silk slip you threw on for bed helped keep you cool from the warm air, massaging oil into your damp skin before coursing the wooden brush through your hair in mindless passes. A knock at your door caught your attention, placing your brush down at your vanity and coming towards the entryway of your bedroom, opening the door to find Viria on the other side of the threshold.

“Viria, it is late,” you stated, looking at her in slight confusion with no hostility in your tone. “Should you not be resting?”

“I should be, my lady, but you have a visitor.”

“A visitor? Who would be in their right mind to come at this hour?” You had tried to think of who would come late into the night and request your presence specifically. Perhaps it was a messenger for your father? Or worse, an intruder.

Another pair of footsteps to your left forced your head to turn, eyes widening at the sight of General Acacius removing his black hood from his head, meeting your gaze. You stood frozen as you looked at him, reminded of his presence after busying yourself trying to forget him the past couple of days. Wiping your face of the initial shock, you huffed out a breath; the anger you’d dimmed ignited once more.

“No.” Shaking your head defensively, you positioned yourself to turn inward to your bedroom, threatening to shut the door behind you. “I do not wish to speak to him. Send him away.”

“My lady, if I may,” Viria spoke up, always persistent to show you reason when you’ve lost your way, “the General comes as a guest. He seeks to speak with you and swears he will not bother you again if that is what you request of him. I believe you should pray for an open mind and listen to what he has to say.”

Your nostrils flared out as you glared at Viria and then at Acacius, who stood idly by. He didn’t say anything as he waited for you to come to a decision, his body rigid with his hands to his back. A soldier’s stance, at the ready for your command, as if you were the one to dictate his actions and not the other way around. Admitting defeat, you dropped your shoulders with a sigh and stepped to the side.

“So be it. But he is to leave soon after.” You affirmed, ignoring Viria, who gestured for Acacius to go into the bedroom with you.

He whispered his thanks to her as she closed the door, leaving you alone in the room with him. You instinctively put some distance between you two, standing closer to the middle of your bedroom while he remained by the entryway.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, General?” Sarcasm dripped from your lips; the intention in your opposing behavior didn’t go unnoticed by the man before you.

“I came to apologize and to ask for your forgiveness,” Acacius said calmly, his broad shoulders widened as he spoke.

“And what for?” Your body itches with anxiety, the endless pit in your stomach fluttering along with the beat of his words. “You have done nothing wrong. You simply acted in the way a man of your stature would.”

“I do not understand,” he switched his weight from one foot to the other, hands flexed in antsy fists. “There are very few men who act as I do, or who have the title and honor I carry.”

“I am not speaking regarding your title, General.” You take a breath, fingers toying with the fabric of your slip. “You may have honor, but at the core, you are still a man with urges who seeks to release them somehow. Whether it be on the battlefield or in the brothels, the drive of men is natural and cannot be avoided.”

Acacius took your words personally, becoming slightly defensive as he caught your insinuation. To think he simply goes and sticks himself into whoever he finds convenient when you know nothing of what went through his head or how much you occupied his mind was offensive, to say the least. He thought the time you two spent together and crossing the line of boundaries dividing you would be enough to show how he truly felt. He thought wrong.

“That is something I do not spend my limited time doing,” he voiced, growing frustrated with your refusal to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Do not generalize me with other men in this city because of the social customs they engage with. We are not all alike; you must know that despite your naivety.”

“You speak of honor and virtue, and yet you come here to lie in my presence.” This time you chuckled bitterly at him; the fierce green flare in your eyes burned holes through the General. “You toyed with me for some time and found another that is more willing to provide what you need. Is that not what you men do?”

“If you would allow me to explain—”

“There is nothing left to explain, Acacius!” You threw your hands up exasperatingly as your voice increased in volume. “I understand why things happened the way they did. You sought some enjoyment from me, and once you grew bored, you went to seek companionship elsewhere. No need to elaborate on that when I know this is how things were always meant to be.”

“And that is far from the truth.” He took a step closer to you then, and another while your feet were planted to the ground. “You merely saw one side of things. Is that how you truly see me? A man who seeks to take advantage of you? After the time we spent together?”

“How else do you wish for me to see things, Marcus?!”

At the shout of his first name, his eyes widened, mostly in surprise rather than anger. You took yourself off guard as well, stammering at the usage of his name in such an informal manner, he should have your head for it.

“General, forgive me. I should not have—”

“No.” The word came without pause, and you expected him to retaliate, to strike his hand over your cheek and put you in your place. Instead, he came as close to you as he could without startling you, his hand lifting to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The act of softness shocked you, eyes misty as you struggled to face him.

“I am not angry with you.” He spoke softly to you now, much like he had always done since the start of your relationship with him. “I do not wish for us to argue, to throw around false accusations. Speak to me honestly; let me understand you.”

“I felt hurt. Betrayed.” Your bottom lip wobbled, trying to find the right words to describe your emotions to Acacius, who was as patient as he was considerate. “I saw you with that other woman and…I was convinced your affections towards me had changed.”

He hummed at your words, staying silent for a beat longer, working to find the best way to explain his side of things without having you jump to more conclusions.

“The woman I was with at the banquet is a friend of mine, not a lover. She is not fond of men in particular, but…she favors the female form. We have an arrangement when we need to maintain our roles at these festivities. She is nothing more than a friend whom I respect and aid when needed.”

You felt stupid.

“Oh.” You faltered in your answer, ruminating on the fact that Acacius had left you with no other message to show you otherwise. “Then why did you leave so suddenly? You were here one day, and the next had disappeared into thin air with no regard for me when you returned.” He exhaled then, looking off to the side.

“After that first night together, I was sent on another campaign that very morning. The Emperors refused to give me the proper time to depart, to write a note to you. The campaign itself…it went on longer than it needed to. I lost men, saw more blood lost in the vain ambitions of the empire, and…it drained me. But this is my duty; this is the burden I must carry, you know that better than anyone.”

You hung on to every word he said, silently looking at him to continue with an encouraging nod.

“When I returned to Rome, I was sure that all I would do is put you in danger. Leaving you day and night to wonder whether or not I would make it back safely, to worry you to such an extent…I could not bear doing that to you. I convinced myself that it was easier to push you away, to let your father wed you off to someone else. And yet the thought of you being with another man vexes me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, pulse spiking as you caught part of his confession. He felt the same way? Maybe there was a chance. Maybe you weren’t crazy for being fond of the General after all.

“Is that true?” With a raised eyebrow, you inquired for more, seeking more of his candor.

“Yes. It is.” His hand now tenderly cupped your cheek, thumb wiping at the tears that streaked down your face. “On my travels, you consume my mind so often it overwhelms me. I see you in my dreams, in my prayers…I look for you in every corner I turn. I desire you, dove. I crave to want you, to kiss and touch you. You are not mine to have, and it pains me that I cannot have you the way I want.”

“Why not, Acacius?” your cheeks were heated from his confession, your hand holding his wrist to ground yourself. “You have the will to do as you please.”

“Your father would disapprove of me. He is a man of politics, and he has his stake in funding the army. They will call it a conspiracy if the General of the army he pays for is engaged with his daughter. I cannot do something that would put you in harm's way, I would never forgive myself.”

“I do not care.” You declared, pressing your body to his and tilting your head upwards. “I refuse to let my father control me and my choices any longer. If you truly desire me, then show me.”

“Dove—,” the General eyed you, placing his hands on your hips to hold you steady. “If word got out of this, you would be damned and punished for your actions.”

“Am I not damned either way? To let a hypothetical husband whom I have never met dictate my existence is suffocating. I cannot keep depriving myself of so much in fear of my father’s judgment when all I care for is being with you.”

Hands creeping up to the brooch holding his black hood, you gripped onto him tighter, gently tugging him towards you in an act of persuasion. His brown eyes swirled with the torment of fulfilling your mutual impulses, to give in to the temptations you both felt towards each other.

“Please, Acacius.” You were so close you could smell him, the familiar scent of almond oil hitting your nose. “Let me control the one thing I have that is mine. I want it to be you; I only want you.”

His breath could be felt on your lips, the anticipation building like a live wire. He kept his eyes on you, watching you closely with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The hand on your hips turned into one strong arm around your waist, bringing you flush to Acacius’ strong body, a shiver rolling down your spine. He leaned his head closer, the tip of his nose lightly grazing yours and his free hand holding the side of your jaw.

“Dove…” It was a plea, so hushed one might consider it a prayer. Your fingers dug into the thicker material of his hood, tilting your chin to welcome him.

“Kiss me.” Close to begging now, he focused his attention on your mouth, plump lips parting as the distance closed in. “Please kiss me.”

Acacius’ resolve snapped, meshing his mouth with yours in a passionate kiss, yelping from the force he used. He kissed you fiercely, keeping you pinned to him and cradling the back of your head, his fingers spreading over the expanse of your skull. He didn’t let you part for air, granting him entry into your mouth so his tongue curled around yours, reclaiming his place. You willingly gave up control, running a hand up his thick neck and scratching along his scalp, gripping the curling gray strands you were enamored with.

You panted against him, sharing the same breath as the hand on your back shifted down to cup your rear, pawing at you greedily in a way that sent a moan pouring out of your mouth, one that Acacius happily swallowed. He overpowered you and took you off guard, expertly taking off his black hood and tossing it to the floor, never taking his hands off of you.

His lips parted from you, trailing to leave kisses on your cheek and jaw. Tossing your head back, you gasped at the sensation of his facial hair brushing over your skin; the faint tease of a bite on a spot behind your ear made you whimper.

“Acacius,” a rumble settled in his chest at the sound of your voice, airy and needy. The strap to your slip fell down your shoulder, his lips following the piece of fabric to place another kiss.

“I want to see you,” he proclaimed, grasping at the silk material that covered your body, a silent question hanging in the air. “Will you let me see all of you?”

“Yes,” it was effortless to answer him, craving more of his touch. “Please.”

Stealing one more kiss from you, he held your silk nightgown and pulled it up to your thighs and torso, lifting it above your head and letting it fall to the ground. Standing bare under the warm candlelight of your room, you didn’t take your eyes off him, waiting for his next move. He took a step back to take you in, shamelessly raking his sight over your naked body from head to toe.

Predatory in his perception, Acacius walked around you in a slow circle, taking more of you with every step. You stood in place, anxiously following him as he spun, breasts rising and falling with every nervous breath. He remained silent, catching your gaze once or twice, mischief in his brown eyes with the smallest hint of a grin tugging on the corner of his lips.

He stops to stand behind you, his broad back shadowing your figure. You could feel his presence, hear his breathing, and sense his eyes pinned to the back of your head. The ghost of his touch ran down your spine, a knuckle drifting to the nape of your neck and down your back, teasing your tailbone. Your eyes fluttered closed, slightly arching towards the touch.

“Acacius…” At the call of his name, he beckoned forward, pressing himself against you from behind. The linen fabric of his tunic rubbed over you, his proximity making you gasp. A large hand came to your hip, your head leaning against his shoulder as he kept you close.

“Beautiful,” Marcus whispered, blood rushing to your cheeks at his words. “So beautiful, little dove.”

“Touch me.” He hasn’t done anything, and you were already growing impatient from the teasing, the center of your body tense, seeking release.

“I will, sweet girl,” Acacius nipped at your ear, guiding the both of you closer to the bed.

You expected to have him hovering above you, doing the things you’ve heard from married women in passing, to have pain between your legs as he claimed you for himself. Yet he surprised you, sitting on the edge of your bed with you perched on his lap, your back to his chest and your thighs over his, keeping you spread. Opening your eyes, you were met with your reflection in the full-body mirror positioned ahead of you, Acacius’ head hovering in the crux of your shoulder.

“W-What…what are you doing?” You asked him, voice trembling from anticipation.

“I want you to see what I see,” Acacius rasped in your ear, both hands on your hips as your breath caught in your throat. “I want you to watch yourself when I touch you for the first time, my darling.”

He continued with his generous kisses on the side of your neck, craning your head back to invite him for more. The curve of his nose stroked the column of your throat, threatening to leave a mark for you to find in the morning. One of his hands reached to cup your breast, kneading your skin in a gentle squeeze. He pinched at your nipple, rolling the stiff nub between his pointer finger and his thumb, one of your free hands stretching to the back of his head for another rough kiss.

He took his time touching your chest, familiarizing himself with the weight of your breasts in his sword-worn palms. The texture of his skin against yours felt too good for you to ignore, looking in the mirror to watch how you fit just right in his hands, whether that be him palming your chest or holding the side of your ribs and hips. You were a perfect fit, and in the back of your mind, you thought of how else you would mesh together.

Acacius’ touch was drawn elsewhere, his fingertips trailing down your sternum and towards your stomach, ghosting along the skin under your belly button right above your pelvis. You could feel yourself pulse above him, your body lacking what you didn’t know you needed. Sneakily, your hips shifted upwards, chasing the tingling sensation of his fingers treading closer to where you wanted him most.

“Easy, little dove,” Acacius said beside you, tapping the skin of your mound with his other hand grasping one of your thighs, holding you in place. “Do you wish for me to touch you?”

“Yes, yes, please…I cannot bear it any longer.” He was satisfied with your pleading, a grin on his face as he kissed the back of your neck.

“Watch yourself,” he commanded, black engulfing his brown irises as he observed your reflection. “Look in the mirror as I touch you.”

Finally, he gave you what you wanted. A broad hand reached towards the most sensitive part of you, thick fingertips lining your slit, coated in the wetness of your arousal. The tips of your ears burned from the sensation, watching his hand move between your thighs in the mirror in front of you. He flicked his wrist upwards, the tip of his pointer and middle finger swiping your sensitive clit, rubbing in circular motions as your thighs shook from his touch.

With a whimper, you clasped at his arm, one hand holding his wrist and the other swaddled around his arm. You were entranced by your reflection, mindlessly widening your legs more, angling your hips to chase his calloused fingers circling your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured beside your cheek, dark eyes sweeping over your figure, diligently rubbing your sensitive nub counterclockwise. “So wet and eager for me. Thought of touching you like this for so long.”

Your empty walls clenched under his touch, nails digging into the muscle of his bicep, and your head lolling to the side. You struggled to focus on your mirror image, the pleasure amounting to a level you didn’t anticipate. It was different than last time, more of a constant slow build versus the previously rushed movements of your hips grinding over his thigh. He had full control over you, pinned to his chest and at his mercy, hearing him purr sweet nothings in your ear as he rapidly brought you to your climax.

“Acacius, please…so close,” you gasped out, the tempo of his motions increasing in pace, heat boiling in your lower gut as the rope of tension wound tighter, ready to snap.

“Come for me, dove. Come for me, and I will make you mine.”

With his words you fell apart, keeping his arm between your legs and threatening to shut your shaking thighs from the impact. A loud wail of his name echoed through the walls of your bedroom, your eyes closing as Marcus held your legs open so he could watch you convulse. He milked your orgasm for as much as you could handle, your release soaking his hand and dripping onto his thigh.

Once the wave of your climax had ended, Acacius drew his hand away from between your legs, leaving affectionate kisses on your shoulder to ease you through the cooldown. There was a small smile on your face when you looked at your reflection again, meeting his gaze from behind you.

“And how was that?” He inquired, not stopping you from standing on quivering legs and straddling over his lap to face him with blown pupils.

“Perfect,” you replied breathlessly, leaning forward to catch his plump lips in a kiss, tugging at the collar of his toga.

You could feel him under you, his muscular legs, and the bump of something else poking at your thigh. Instinctively, you gyrated your hips over him as you littered kisses along the side of his neck, nipping playfully at the thick vein that poked out. The groan that escaped him from deep within his chest graced your ears, pulling back to kiss him more passionately, the heavy weight of his hands sweeping along the curve of your back to guide your movements.

Acacius held your thighs and flipped you both around effortlessly, causing you to lie on the bed with him hovering above you. Your legs were hooked around his waist, hands on his broad shoulders as you looked up at him, heart stirring, wondering what was going on in his mind. Expertly, he grabbed one of your pillows, placed it under your head, and kissed your forehead. He dropped kisses over your nose and cheeks, giving you more on your lips in small pulses, bringing a laugh to your face.

“You are radiant when you laugh,” Acacius noted softly, the heat in your cheeks persistent as he glanced at you with adoration.

“Will you spend the whole night toying with me, General?” You jested, curling a finger around a gray strand by his forehead that fell out of place.

“I will toy with you however I see fit,” a cheeky smirk appeared on his face, chuckling together. “If that is what you still desire from me. We can always continue this another time.”

Ever the considerate man, your chest warmed at his suggestion of doing more another time, not needing to rush the experience if you had changed your mind. But you knew deep down he was what you wanted, and you didn't want to waste another moment longer without having him.

“I want you,” you confessed honestly, thumbing the scar on his cheekbone. “I want you to make me yours…if you will have me.”

He sealed his promise with a kiss, repeating his familiar pattern of caressing your jaw and neck with his lips, pinning you to the mattress, and mouthing at your collarbones before arriving at your chest. Two kisses were left on your skin, one on each breast, a third right where your heart was beating rapidly.

“Then let me worship what is mine.”

Acacius’ lips enveloped one of your nipples, sucking the nub while flicking the other with his fingers. Your back arched at his touch, fingers coursing through his hair to keep him in place, gasping as the sensations ran through you like an electrical current. From one breast to the other, he lavished his attention on the stiff peaks, blowing on your wet skin when he was done with them.

He continued with his passage down your body, holding your waist and mouthing your sternum and stomach, kissing under your belly button and curling his hand around your thigh, bending it over his shoulder. You sat up on your elbows to watch him, lustful eyes meeting his dark ones, gasping when he smooched along the side of your inner thigh, biting into your skin hard enough to make you jolt.

“Acacius,” your fingers dug into the silk sheets of your bed, the suspense growing in your body, not knowing what else to expect.

The man before you kissed the crease where your inner thigh met your hip, then your mound, skimming the soft skin of your lower lips. Spreading your legs to welcome his head, Acacius placed a tentative kiss on your clit, the contact sending you reeling and your hips shaking. He went back for another kiss, licking a broad stripe up your cunt, humming at the taste of you invading his mouth.

“You are perfect, little dove,” he groaned against you, both hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you secured in place. “And you taste divine, the sweetest ambrosia.”

You didn’t hear what else Acacius had to say when he dove in to feast on with ravenous hunger, your back curving over the bed with a whine. Squeezing the pillow under your head, you closed your eyes and focused solely on how Marcus was pleasing you, flicking his tongue over your opening and collecting more of your slick into his wanting mouth. He was a greedy man, lapping at you like he could never get enough, a man thirsty and living in a drought, seeking replenishment from the oasis that was left to be unclaimed between your thighs.

The sweetness of your arousal filled his taste buds, reminding him distantly of fig and honey, a combination he often favored during the summers of his youth. The curve of his nose pressed further into your pussy, seeking more of your desire for him and slipping his tongue inside of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your throat, hands winding in his hair to ground yourself, bucking your hips into his face as he fucked you with his tongue.

“Oh, oh Gods…Acacius,” you stuttered on the call of his name as the General grunted in response, the vibrations shooting up your back.

You were unprepared for this kind of gratification in the bedroom. Sure, you were somewhat familiar with what happened behind closed doors, at least from what Viria had told you in private when your father refused to teach you anything else. There were always rumors of what happened in the brothels, how the workers easily wooed the men they entrapped, pleasing them in ways that were still misunderstood by you. But this, being worshiped in such a gluttonous way by a man so willing to get on his knees for you, was something unheard of.

You would think once again that General Marcus Acacius was an exception to the rule.

In the throes of his audible slurping, the General focused on sucking at your engorged clit in concentrated pulses. Meanwhile, his finger teased your twitching entrance, clutching at his head as he delved it deep inside you with minimal resistance. You keened at the feel of him filling part of you, quickly drawing the thick digit out and thrusting it back inside. He repeated the action a few times, concentrating on watching your face contorting in delight once he inserted a second finger, coaxing you to cry out into the room.

Breathless moans escaped you, the last bits of shyness and shame leaving you as you gripped the back of Acacius’ head, grinding your hips towards him with a receptive growl. He knew you were getting close to having another release, your walls pulsing around his fingers with every nudge he gave you. He curled the two digits inside you, burrowing them down to the knuckle and hitting a spot you didn’t know existed, tears in your eyes at the ferocity of what you felt hurtling towards you.

“Please, please…Marcus!” You didn’t know exactly what you were begging for, whether it be for release or mercy; Acacius understood it well.

Deepening his steady pumping, he sucked at your nub harder and moaned against you, sending you falling headfirst into your second climax. This one was more drawn out than the first, a tingling that started at the tip of your toes and spread from your quaking thighs, rushing to your head. Your nails scratched at his scalp as he coaxed you through your release, prolonging it for as much as he could until your body grew too sensitive for more. With a gentle tug of his head, Acacius drew away from your twitching pussy, leaving one last kiss on your clit. He pulled his fingers out of your hole and slipped them in his mouth, cleaning up what was left of your arousal before straightening his back and standing to peer at you.

You were still catching your breath from your climax, thighs trembling on his hips as he massaged your skin in an attempt to soothe you. Tears ran down your cheeks, not from pain but from being overwhelmed in the best way, your lower body throbbing from how the General treated you. When you focused on Acacius, the tip of his nose, lips, and chin were stained with your arousal, meshing in with the prickly gray of his mustache. His eyes gaped at you voraciously, licking his top lip as he stared down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, nodding as you tried to bring him back down to your level.

You dragged him in for an eager kiss, licking at his bottom lip and hunting the taste of you on his tongue. He sighed against you, pressing himself over your body, letting you feel the length of him poking incessantly on your lower stomach.

“Will you let me see you as you have seen me?” You suggested to him in a low murmur, gazing at him with lust-blown eyes. It only made him want you more.

“Anything you wish,” Acacius said, backing away from you to stand on the edge of the bed, using your arms to sit upwards to watch him.

The black hood he wore was already discarded in your earlier pursuit of kissing him, his big hands grabbing at his linen toga and hauling it above his head, tossing it to the ground. You instantly gawked at the expanse of golden skin now exposed to you, kissed by the sun, and marked by scars from years of training and fighting in wars. He appeared to be even more broad without the bulkiness of his armor constantly weighing down on him, his body as strong as it was soft, a reliable vessel blessed by Mars.

Ogling him closely, Acacius went to remove his loincloth; the last piece of fabric shielding him from your view dropped to the marble floor with the rest of his clothes. Trailing your eyes down his body, your sight landed on his thick length bobbing against his stomach; the graying thatch of hair at the base caught your eye, your cunt flexing in response.

You couldn’t help but let your mouth water at the sight of him.

Acacius shuffled forward to hover over you again on the bed, his knees digging into the mattress as he went. Your hands itched to touch him, to get a real feel of him for the first time, but your nerves were starting to eat away at you. Gently, he reaches for one of your hands gripping the sheets, kissing the inside of your palm, each finger, and your inner wrist before placing your hand on his chest right by his left pectoral.

“You can touch me.” He coaxed, not letting go of your hand as you went on your journey to learn his body. “Feel all of me.”

Your touch continued down his bare chest, grazing along the scars you found on his freckled skin. Some were freshly pink, others were faded with age and mixed into the rest of him. You wondered what were the fables of each of these markings, the moment he experienced that imprinted onto him for the rest of his life. You went along the path he set for you, your fingertips reaching his belly button and the soft hair lined underneath it.

With Acacius’ help, you enclosed your hand around his aching cock, the heavy weight of him warm in your hand. You marveled at the sight of him, his skin smooth, twitching at the feel of you giving him a testing squeeze.

“You are big, General.” You commented with a lilt in your voice, the smallest hint of a smirk on your face.

“And you are a tease, little dove.” He played along with your game, guiding your movements with his larger hand, showing you how to touch him the way he liked. Though he was sure he would give you a more in-depth lesson next time.

He groaned at the touch, tentatively jerking him with a flick of your wrist, doing what felt natural to you. To your surprise, he grabbed hold of your jaw and kissed you fervently, fondling him until he took your hand away and urged you to lie flat on your back.

Swathing your arms around his shoulders and keeping him close, Acacius held your thighs, spreading you open and placing your legs on either side of him. His hard cock rested on your pussy, grinding his length between your lips, coating him in your wetness. The tip of him bumped into your slick pearl with every shift of his hips, clenching around nothing and whimpering as you seek more of him, to finally be his.

“Please, Marcus, take me. I want to feel you,” you pleaded, waiting for his next move. Grabbing hold of the base of him, he notches himself at your entrance, his free hand on your hip to keep you steady.

“I will go slow,” he assures you, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, breathing with you. “You will hold onto me and tell me if it is too much or I hurt you. Understand?”

“I understand,” you echo with a dry mouth, your eyes beating closed as your nerves wrack through you.

Slowly, he rolls his hips and eases himself inside you with a careful thrust, pushing into you with control. Your breath hitches when he manages to get halfway before meeting resistance, fingers clinging onto his shoulders at the slight tinge of pain from being breached for the first time. He tried to thrust into you again, making you whimper from both pain and something else, moving his hips away to lighten the pressure before attempting to drive another inch into you.

“Too much?” He droned, and you nodded shakily. “Breathe for me, sweet girl. You are doing so well.”

The kisses and words of praise he gave you did little to alleviate the stinging tightness you felt from Acacius sliding into you for the first time. You were grateful he had been so attentive before, the fullness of him enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. He coaches you to breathe in through your nose, and out your mouth, and once your body was relaxed enough, he plunges into you in one go.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, the stretch of him bringing tears to your eyes, huffing out a breath and holding onto him tightly, shielding your face in his neck. He stayed still on your behalf, giving you time to adjust, all while caressing your back in the process.

Acacius drew his head back to look at your face, an expression of worry and concern etched on his features. His thumb wiped at the tears that fell from your eyes, kissing you with affection as you leveled your breathing.

“Marcus,” you mumbled at him, looking at him wantonly. “It’s so much…”

“I know, dove. I know it is.” He felt you fidget your hips just a bit, panting from the change in angle. “Just keep your eyes on me, look only at me.”

Following his command, you did your best to focus on Acacius, shuddering when he pulled his hips back, missing the stretch of him already. He lunged himself back into you, down to the hilt, punching a rough moan out of your mouth as he carved room for himself in your cunt. He maintained his slow and even pace, not doing too much to aggravate your body as you adapted to taking him.

The more he moved, the more you craved him. Every push and pull of his hips felt like a kiss from the inside out, his cock hitting spots you didn’t know were a part of you. The depth of his languid strokes and the angle were done with precision, reciprocating his advances and instinctively meeting his thrusts halfway. You didn’t realize how vocal you had become, senseless keens pouring out of you with your arousal coating Acacius’ cock with every shove into you.

“There she is, my little dove.” You pulsed at the way he said it, possessive in his tone and his handling of your body. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how you want me.”

“Full, so full…” Your voice grew to a higher pitch as you spoke, his eyes rapacious as he watched you. “Please, give me more. I need more.”

He didn’t keep you waiting any longer; grabbing hold of one of your thighs, he raised it to his shoulder, driving into you even deeper. He upped the tempo of his thrusts, sending your head craning into your pillow. Acacius took advantage of your position, laying his entire weight over your body and biting at the skin of your neck as he fucked into you intently, filling you to the hilt and doing it repeatedly.

“That’s it. Take it all, taking me so well.” He grunted into your ear, a hand coming to grapple the back of your head, grabbing your hair in a tight fistful. You were coerced to face him, lamenting with glassy eyes as he had his way with you. “This is what you wanted? To know what it felt like to be mine?”

“Yes, yes,” it seemed to be the only word in your vocabulary, rendered speechless from how Acacius was fucking into you so intimately. “Only yours. Only yours.”

He couldn't hide the wide grin on his face, locking his mouth over yours in a possessive kiss with a snarl, swallowing all of the sounds that poured out of you. The same tingling sensation from earlier sneaked up on you, your slick walls tightening around Acacius’ cock. He altered his bucks against you, hitting as deep as he could, making sure to leave his claim on your body from the inside out.

“Acacius, please…mercy.”

You could barely breathe being smothered under him, your sharp nails scraping at the nape of his neck and down his shoulders, tearing through his skin and marking him for yourself. He licked at his thumb, bringing his hand down to where your bodies met, and rubbed at your slicked nub, a cry forcing its way out of your throat.

“Come for me one more time, little dove,” he pounded against you so vigorously, that you would think he was purposefully trying to break you, the bed creaking under you. “One more for me, mea columba. Give it to me; let me feel you soak me.”

With a wail, you fell over the edge a third time, stars shooting under your eyelids as you shook violently and soaked Marcus entirely. You couldn’t handle the intensity of your orgasm as it slammed into you, all the blood rushing to your head, leaving the rest of your body numb. It felt like you were floating, swimming even, the warm breeze of a shoreline hitting your skin under the blazing sun.

It was euphoric, a sense of nirvana that you’ve prayed for so many times before, and here it was given to you freely and openly by a man that should be held at arm’s length.

Acacius was getting close to meeting his end; you could tell from the way he thrusted more frantically against you, groaning loudly in the curve of your neck. A few more drives of his hips, and he forced himself out of you, fisting his cock rapidly and spilling his seed over your stomach, tainting your clammy skin. You studied him with half-lidded eyes, how he heaved with sweat cascading down the side of his forehead, thick fingers holding his length in his hand to claim you, some of his release dotting your mound.

The General held himself up with one thick arm, closing the distance between you to kiss you much softer than the previous times, your lips plump and bruised from his prior aggressiveness. You reciprocated his affection happily, bringing him closer with a hand winding the back of his head, sighing contently against him.

“You amaze me, General.” You remarked, a dopey smile and wet streaks on your cheeks from the experience he granted you. You silently hoped the other servants in the domus weren’t disturbed by the loud noises coming from your room, but you had a feeling Viria would be able to cover for you.

“And you amaze me. Did so good for me, my sweet girl. So good.” Acacius praised, standing up to reach the bathing basin on the farthest corner of your bedroom. You eyed his broad back as he stepped away from you, catching the red scratches you left embedded in his skin staring back at you.

He turns and smirks when he catches you looking at him, taking the damp cloth to clean his spend from your skin. You slightly hissed when he wiped between your legs, a muttered apology falling from his mouth as he cleansed himself, tossing the rag back in the bowl and sauntering towards you.

You thought he would put his clothes back on and flee into the night, leaving someone to wake you in the morning. Instead, he came to your bed, slipping under the sheets and pulling them back to signal for you to join him. Without a word, you threw the sheets over yourself, a small inch of space between you and Acacius, staring at him curiously as if he had not just taken what remained of your innocence.

He blanketed an arm around your waist, beckoning you closer to him, and you rested your head on his chest, calmed by the steady beating of his heart. You silently caressed his side while he ran lines up your spine, his touch comforting and welcoming, palming your head and running his fingers through your loose hair. There was a nagging question tearing at your spirit, wondering what would come of this, what you meant to the General whom you just gave your virtue to on a silver platter.

“Do you plan to stay?” You asked him, raising your head to look back at him with your chin to his chest, his brown eyes already on you.

“I will be here until dawn breaks, and we will figure everything else out after.” He confirmed, bringing you close, kissing the crown of your head and again on your lips, petting your cheekbone. “Rest now, little dove. I will be here when you wake. I swear it.”

With your body against his, you breathed in his scent; the serenity your body felt beside him eased you to slumber. As you slept against the General, he stayed awake for a while longer, taking in your sweet face as you dreamed of whatever manifested in your pretty head. A part of him grew anxious about what to expect from your blooming relationship, how best to work around your father’s scrutiny, and protect you from the hardships that came from his demanding position in society.

But he knew what he wanted; he knew that whatever this was between you was something he was willing to fight for. And so he held onto you a little tighter, joining you in the land of dreams and fantasizing about you, as he usually did when he was away. Only now, part of his dream became a reality, and he had you by his side, safe in his arms.

©️ ovaryacted 2024-2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics.

Latin Translations: Vale - farewell/goodbye. Mea columba - my dove.

[lostinlads]

Delicious Desire

Synopsis: after a heavy makeout session, xavier finds out that you've never been eaten out. he takes it upon himself to bless you with his mouth

Tags: xavier x afab!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, no use of y/n, smut, porn with little plot, not proofread, not edited, xavier is a MUNCH, eating out, fingering, first time, not virgin mc, use of pet names (angel, beautiful, bun), tongue fucking

Words: 2.1k

a/n: this is my first smut fic i have written in a WHILE so please be kind as i find my footing again! but shout out to my horny xavier moots on twitter for making me want to write this bc i wasn't going to do one shots for a while. anyway xavier is a munch that man is a slut and i love his ass sm! thank you for reading!

ao3 | kofi

Your relationship with Xavier was still pretty new, so many beautiful firsts with each other that will forever be engrained in your mind.

This morning was no different.

You two spent the night at his apartment, binging movies and snacking all night until the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms on his soft bed. Waking with the soft morning rays on your face, your boyfriend already awake with his head resting on your chest, fingers drawing small circles onto the flesh of your stomach.

Sweet nothings said between the both of you, enjoying each other's company.

Until you find yourself on his lap, mouths working against each other as you thread your fingers through his feathery locks. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you in place as you slowly grind your hips against his. Your mind growing fuzzy, getting drunk at the feeling of Xavier's lips on yours, the way he nibbles at your bottom lip before sucking it. The fluttering deep in your stomach never ending at every small movement under you, his hard cock growing larger with every move you make.

Xavier breaks your kiss, his lips trailing down your neck before sucking at the sensitive spot at the base. A moan slips from your lips, earning a satisfied hum from him, vibrating on your skin only making your head spin more. This wasn't the first time you've been in this situation with him, heavy make out sessions were inevitable with how whipped he is for you. Him knowing exactly what buttons to press for you to sing so sweetly for him, it drove him insane.

"Bun," Xavier nearly whined against your throat, your hips bucking slightly at just his voice alone. Fingers tightening in his hair.

"Hm?" You hum, words failing to form on your tongue. He nips, another gasp fluttering from your lungs.

"Wanna taste you," He mumbles, hands gripping your sides as he guides your hips against him, making you feel how fucking strung out he was on you. You blink, confused. Eyebrows knitting together as you try to piece together his words through the thick fog in your mind.

"What?" He groans, lips still abusing your neck as you feel his hot tongue lap at your skin.

"Please let me eat you bun," He begs. "You're driving me insane, please let me." Xavier thrusts his hips up to you, grinding his hard cock against your clothed heat as if to show you just how much he wanted this. You pull back, a whine leaving his lips as he loses contact.

"Uh-" Cheeks flaming, you don't meet his eyes. This was... unexpected to say the least. You weren't new to sex, having lovers in the past, but none of them ever ate you out before.

"If you aren't comfortable, angel, we don't have to," His hand coming to caress your face, thumb brushing your cheek softly as he reassured you. It's not that you didn't want to, you just were inexperienced.

"No, no," You start, shaking your head as you finally meet his awaiting eyes. Fuck, those eyes. Pupils blown wide with lust and want, glossy and searching as he waited for you to answer. "I just haven't... before..." You trail off, hands gliding over his clothed chest, heartbeat pounding against your skin. Xavier is silent for a pause, eyes flicking between yours as he takes in your words.

"No one has ever eaten you out before?" He almost sounds offended for you. You shake your head, heat from your cheeks stretching to the tips of your ears.

"No, it's never been brought up," A small smile grows on his gorgeous face as his hands run down your sides, gripping your plush thighs.

"We'll just have to change that then."

Xavier flips you over in a fluid motion, him looming over your shocked body as his eyes grow dark. Your boyfriend quickly strips of his shirt, tossing it behind him somewhere in the room. He looks starved, almost ravenous as he leans in, lips to your neck again. This time his assault isn't as graceful, needy and sloppy as he drools on your skin as he makes his way down to your chest. Hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing your skin as they roam over your stomach and waist. You arch your back, hot breath panting from your mouth as he makes his way down your body. Wetness pooling between your thighs as you feel the all too familiar tingle.

"So pretty for me," He mumbles against the soft skin of your exposed stomach, placing a soft, delicate kiss to it before he settles between your thighs. His hands run down, slowly spreading them as his eyes stay locked on your clothed heat. The only thing keeping him from his meal is a flimsy pair of sleep shorts and your soaked underwear. His pupils dilate, almost consuming the blue of his beautiful eyes. Tongue darting out as he swipes his lips, saliva glossing in the morning light. You wanted to drink him in when he looked like this, already so ruined for you and nothing even happened.

"May I?" Fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts, eyes flicking up to meet yours, pleading. You would pause time if you could, stay in this moment to stare at his face forever.

"Yes," Voice nothing more than a whisper as you breathe the single word out. Without a second thought Xavier pulls the shorts down your legs, eyeing your weeping cunt through your soaked panties. He groans, hands spreading you further as he leans in.

You gasp as his lips brush your inner thigh, hands fisting the sheets. He places a soft kiss to the fat of your thigh, then another, peppering your skin with the most loving caresses.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, angel," He moans into you, pulling back so his face is right in front of your heat. The scene in front of you unfolds in almost slow motion, Xavier leaning down, lips placing a soft kiss to your clothed clit. Your stomach jumps, breath hitching as his tongue flattens, licking a stripe up your panties.

"Smell fucking divine," His tongue diving back in to lap at you through your underwear once more. A soft whimper leaving your lips, snapping him out of his high, eyes dancing over your face. You pull your lip between your teeth, nibbling on it as you sit under his intense gaze.

Xavier pulls down your panties, an agonizingly slow pace almost as if he wants to tease you. You watch the obscene string of your cum connecting your cunt and panties snap. He sucks in a breath as you lay bare, exposed to him. The cool air hits your slick heat, a chill running down your spine as goosebumps rise in its wake. Xavier swears under his breath, air fanning over your cunt making you squirm. You could see the last of his control slipping, fingers digging into your skin as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He would be the end of you today.

Anticipation wells in the pit of your stomach, wanting nothing more than his tongue pleasuring you, to experience why he craves it so bad. You wiggle your hips, coaxing him to give in. Xavier's eyes flutter back open, looking only at your face.

"Eyes stay on me, beautiful," Before you notice the pink tip of his tongue poke through his plush lips.

He leans into his meal, fingers coming to part your lips as his tongue finally makes contact and-

Fuck.

Fuck.

A string of moans flows from your parted lips, back arching off of the bed again as his tongue licks again. Eyes never breaking contact with you, his lips come to wrap around your clit. He sucks greedily, cheeks hollowing as he moans. The vibrations ricochet up your heat, fluttering around in your stomach as your hands grip the sheets tighter, knuckles a ghostly white.

You feel the tip of his tongue add to the mix, lapping at your bud as he continues to suck. How were you supposed to last longer than five minutes with him working you like this? The coil hot inside you as you shift your hips, grinding your cunt on his face. You swear you feel him smile before he lets go, tongue prodding at your entrance.

"Oh my god-" You gasp, his saliva and your slick mixing together beautifully as his tongue glides into you. Xavier slurps, sucking down your spilling juices. You swear it's the most erotic sight you've ever seen.

"You taste so good for me, bun," Lips grazing your pussy as he speaks. He places another soft kiss to your cunt before he flattens his tongue, long strokes to your slit. His eyes never waver, locked onto your flushed face as he continues to pleasure you at an agonizingly slow pace. Wanting to saver you, your taste, your expressions, your soft fluttering moans.

Xavier's nose bumps your clit as he glides his tongue up, thighs twitching as your eyes roll for a split second before snapping back down to his blushing face.

You couldn't help yourself, hand releasing she sheet before reaching forward. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging softly at his scalp earning a beautiful grunt from the man devouring you. Sweat shining on his forehead, plastering his hair to his face, the light blond locks turning darker. You've never seen him like this before, so lustful, so needy. It tightened the coil deep in your stomach, a heavy moan flowing freely.

His tongue glides back down to your entrance again, sliding between your gummy walls.

"Oh my god, Xav," You gasp, lungs not getting enough air. Hips grinding on his face, wet tongue burying deeper inside of you.

"That's it, bun," Breathy, fucked out voice blessing your ears. "Fuck yourself on my face for me." You couldn't help yourself, head falling back into the pillows as you buck, pressing his face further as you grip his hair tight in your fist. You were getting close, the wet sounds of his tongue fucking inside of you so deep bouncing off of the walls of his room, making your head so fuzzy. Mind going numb, the only thing you could think of is how you have gone this long without this pleasure before.

His nose brushes against your clit again, eyes rolling so far back you swear you could see your own brain. Hips lifting from the bed as you chase your high, wanting nothing to cum on his face. Xavier grinds hid leaking cock into the mattress, reeling in the pleasure he is gracing you with, getting off on that alone.

"Look at me, beautiful. Please, let me see your pretty fucked out face." Vulgar words you've never heard from him, voice so whiney you couldn't help but obey. Opening your eyes, glancing back down at him. You watch his hips hump into the bed, his lips wrapping around your clit before you feel one of his long, slender fingers fuck its way inside of you.

"Gonna... cum-" You manage to choke out, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips as he adds another finger, curling just right to hit that sweet spot inside of you.

"Me too, angel," He moans, the sound so beautiful it buzzes in your brain.

The sounds of him slurping your leaking cunt becomes too much, his hair tickling your thighs, his fingers hitting in you just right. The band in you snaps, hips lifting from the bed, back arching as you cry out to him. His moans join yours, blue eyes half lidded as his noises vibrate in your heat. Your cum coating his hand, dripping down his wrist as his hips stutter before halting as he cums in his pants. 

Xavier's fingers slip out of you as he rests his head on your thigh, lips and chin glossy. Your hand falls to his damp cheek, a lazy smile spreading on his lips. You couldn't help but be in awe, how ethereal he looks after he cums, your work of art.

"That was..." You breathe out, brain fuzzy as you try to find the words. He laughs, hand caressing your thigh.

"You did so well for me," Nothing but love and admiration in his soft voice. "Let's get you cleaned up so we can go back to bed." Wet lips plant a kiss to your thigh before he stands, a wet patch spread on his pajama pants.

[softaestluv]

Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! reader

Tags: Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Eventual smut, Military inaccuracies

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 | ao3 | masterlist

You weren’t exactly sure what festered in your chest at the table with Ghost, but it ruminated and bloomed thickly in your throat between each gulp of his tea. It made you nervous around him, in a far different way than the nerves that prickled your skin because he was your superior. Nothing more than the dominance and assertiveness his stature demanded.

But somewhere along the lines the pricks morphed into tingles, claws against flesh became bristles on a brush, started in your chest before swooping low and fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

You almost wished you hadn’t realized the change, that you were anxious simply because your lieutenant wore a fucking skull mask and could snap your neck in two if he wanted. Not because he managed to crawl under your skin between the handful of short sentences he’s spoken to you.

But Simon Riley wasn’t a man of words. You didn’t need them anyways, they were insignificant in the palms of his actions.

So, you began to swim in the warmth that radiated your flesh in his presence— drowned in it with the tea he made just for you. Choked on it when he shared his food with you. When the counter ran out of something before you were able to get it, walked to the table with a pout, and he would place his own on your tray without a word. Or grabbing an item he knew you liked just so you could have double of your favorite— voice gruff when he mumbled ‘these the ones you like, yeah?’

You protested everytime because as much as you like the action, the thought behind it all; you also wanted him to eat. He was a giant, massive, needed more sustenance than you did, but he never responded to your denials. Made you learn quite quickly to accept it without a word because he wanted you to have it more than he needed it. So, like a good sergeant, you always do, fills you in ways you’ve never felt before.

Then, he began to save a seat for you in meetings and debriefs, just as his eyes urged you to the spot in front of him in the mess hall, they flicked to the empty space next to him everywhere you went. During training, on heli rides, in the rec room, in vehicle transports. Maybe it was subconscious, an automatic reaction to seeing your figure standing there searching for an open seat, but even when you had a spot on the rec room couch, he would find a way to your side. Sat next to you more often than not.

It became a running joke between the other sergeants, moving from the spot next to you if Ghost enters the room with a hushed ‘better move from the lieutenant’s seat.’

It burns your cheeks when they’re right, when he sits next to you without a word like that’s where he belonged. You almost feel bad for Soap when you see the look of betrayal on his face when Ghost tells him to move from his spot next to him— ‘LT, ah thocht we were closer than that.’

Mouthed a ‘sorry’ to him as you took his spot— your spot next to Ghost.

You thought maybe you were reading too much into it when a large hand on your shoulder to correct your form became two palms on your hips. When the ghost of his hand to guide you down the hall or to your shared table became a firm touch. When his pinky finger would slide lower than the rest, barely brush over the seams of your pants and resting on the top of your ass.

When he sat a little too close on the rec room couch, thighs pressed together. Knees knocking when you sat across him during lunch, or his foot sliding between yours so your legs would encase his. When a gravel ‘Sergeant’ became ‘dove’ or a murmured ‘sweet’art.’

Each touch had a fire ignited under your skin— in your core. Burnt you alive when you were alone in your room and all you could think about was the distant memory of his large fingers curled around your skin or the way his accent was thick, vibrated in your skull with each term of endearment he murmured to you.

And then, the two of you began to share food outside of the mess hall. The first time it happened you were on a covert mission with him and Soap. Ghost insisted he keep watch during a rest stop, told you and Johnny to sleep. Which you did, but you had waken up soon after. Lifted a drowsy head to find Ghost perched opposite of the window.

“Ghost.” You whispered.

“Dove.” He said lowly, didn’t even turn his head to face you.

You crawled over to his spot quietly as to not wake up Soap, stopping in front of him, “Are you tired? I can watch the rest of the night.”

“What are you on ‘bout?” He remarked, like you had said the most absurd thing, “Go back to sleep.”

You maneuvered to his side anyways, sat next to him as you began to unzip the pocket in your vest. Pulled out the granola bar you had stashed in there when you found out you were going on the assignment with Ghost.

It was smushed and crumbled, a sad remanent of the protein bar it used to be, but it was the best you could offer your lieutenant on an extended assignment. His eyes hesitantly flickered to yours as you broke it in half and held it out for him.

When he didn’t immediately accept it, you spoke softly, “Our little secret.”

“You’re distracting me, dove,” He grumbled, but still, he was a little too eager to eat it.

The next time it happened, you were in the rec room sprawled across the couch. It was late, one or two sergeants lingering in the space. Ghost had walked in with a cup of tea, presumably to walk through to his room, but he stopped when he saw you reading. Made his way over when you gave him a small smile, squeezed himself in the spot next to you.

And because you enjoy seeing the annoyed glimmer in his eyes a little too much you ask him if it was tea before hiding your laugh behind your palm, “Smells nice.”

To your surprise he held it out for you as an offering, raising your eyebrows in response, stammering, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s yours, I can go make my own.”

As you began to shift from your spot, because tea did sound good, he grunts disapprovingly and nudges you back into your seat.

“I’m sharin’,” He explained irritatedly, and when you don’t immediately take it, he dips his head lower, continuing quieter, “Our little secret.”

You can’t even hide the smile that smears across your lips, leaning forward, so he could press the rim to your lips.

“Careful,” He murmurs, watching you intently, “‘ts hot.”

It is hot.

Makes your mouth and throat burn.

You’re hot.

In other ways than from the tea.

It swirls in your chest and scalds your skin. Stings. Sears.

Fingertips aching at your side, digging into the pages of your book to alleviate the sensation.

Ghost stays with you until the both of you finish the cup of tea. Taking turns to gulp the liquid down between pages in the book you long gave up on reading, couldn’t focus with him right there. When he keeps turning the cup so he can drink from where your lips pressed, a breath of a kiss from your lieutenant every time he twists it back for you to drink from the same spot.

It might be subconscious, maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but his eyes focus on you intensely, lips parted wantonly as you drink his tea. It makes swallowing difficult, makes breathing near impossible. Lips clinging to the rim as if you were trying to suck the imprint of his mouth clean off.

You probably shouldn’t, you know you’re being quite greedy over your lieutenant’s sharing and silence, but most days you sit on the couch waiting for him. Some days he doesn’t show, too busy with Price or too tired to trudge to the mess hall for tea, but maybe he wanted to sit with you just as much as you anticipated him between each page of your book. Maybe he felt bad everytime he saw you laying there, waiting for him, and carved out time to ease your desperation.

Though he’s there most nights than not, one cup of tea in gloved palms. His figure looms at the entrance, standing quietly until you notice him, like he had been waiting for your permission to join your space. And just as he flickered his eyes in the mess hall, you flash yours to the spot next to you.

And what’s the relationship between the two of you if not sharing small treats with each other? So, you begin to store chocolate in your pockets in preparation for your shared tea time.

The first time you pull a piece out and hand him a slightly melted slice he looks at you with complete amusement.

“You just always got chocolate on you, dove?” He asked, exhaling a soft laugh as he peeled his gloves off.

“Only for you,” You confess, placing the chunk in his bare palms.

You find his gaze when he keeps his hand open, doesn’t immediately throw the chocolate into his mouth eagerly like he usually does. His eyes were unwavering, fixed so strikingly you think you might’ve said something wrong, diverting your stare somewhere else, so you could remember to fucking breathe.

“Um I,” You begin to stammer because you’re not entirely sure what to say, but he cuts you off before you can form a complete thought —“Our little secret, right?”

You nod at him wide-eyed. Starry-eyed. Open-mouthed as he pops the piece into his mouth like he wasn’t pinning you to the spot seconds before, stripped you bare and exposed in the rec room.

The rec room, just like the mess hall, becomes yours and Ghost’s. Public spaces with the two of you at the center, sharing more than food and fleeting glances that the both of you seem to miss every time.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

A Quick Guide to Ao3 Searches! (Part 1)

From someone who searches for fics frequently!

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So, you've decided to make the switch to Ao3! Or maybe it's your first time diving into the world of fanfiction! Either way, welcome!

Why am I making this guide? I feel like a lot of people can be overwhelmed when they first begin to use Ao3, so I'm here to try & help alleviate any confusion!

This guide assumes that you have made an account! Some authors choose to hide their work from those who don't have an account, including me! If you haven't yet, I suggest making one as soon as possible & coming back to this later!

With all of that said, let's get on with it!

Home Page

The first page that you see when you open up a tab with Ao3 should be the home page! From here, you can see tags that you've saved as a favorite, works you've marked for later, & news from Ao3, as well as links to both the Twitter & Tumblr status accounts!

Also on the home page is an empty search bar with a button next to it that says Search in the upper right corner! Above this is where you can access your account, the button to post a new work, & the button to log out of your account!

What we want to focus on is the empty search bar! Here, you can input what you want to look for, & it will show you the works that best match what you put!

Search Results

Now that we have our results, what next? Well, you could always stop here & look through the works manually, but that's generally not a great method, especially since some searches can have thousands of results to sort through! Thankfully, there's a solution!

Towards the right of your screen, a little below where you entered your search, there's a button that says Edit Your Search. If you click on this, it will lead you to a separate page where you can narrow down the works that you're shown, ranging from the title to the amount of bookmarks a work has! I'll briefly go through each filter as I understand it!

Work Search

Work Info

Any Field - Where you can find what you searched for!

Title - Where you can input a work's name if you know it!

Author/Artist - Where you can put the username of the author of the work if you know it!

Date - Where you can input a range of time that fics were posted/updated!

Completion status - Where you can choose from seeing all works, works that have been completed, or works that are still in progress!

Crossovers - Where you can choose to include crossovers, exclude crossovers, or see only crossovers!

Single Chapter - Checking this box will show you works with only one chapter!

Word Count - Where you can specify the word count you're looking for, from exact amount to broad range!

Language - A drop down menu where you can select from a wide range of different languages!

Work Tags

Fandoms - Where you can put what fandoms you're searching for!

Rating - A drop down menu where you can choose what rating you wish to be shown works from, ranging from any to explicit!

Warnings - Checkboxes you can mark to indicate that you want to be shown works with that warning!

Categories - Checkboxes you can mark to indicate that you want to be shown works with that category!

Characters - Where you can put specific character tags!

Relationships - Where you can put specific relationship tags!

Additional Tags - Where you can put tags that are neither characters nor relationships!

Work Stats

Hits - Where you can specify an exact amount to search for, or a broad range!

Kudos - Where you can specify an exact amount to search for, or a broad range!

Comments - Where you can specify an exact amount to search for, or a broad range!

Bookmarks - Where you can specify an exact amount to search for, or a broad range!

Search

Sort by - A drop down menu where you can select how you wish to be shown works in the results!

Sort direction - A drop down menu where you can select which direction you would like to see results sorted by!

Most of these options are pretty self-explanatory, but if you're still unsure of how some of these work, try clicking on the question marks next to certain filters! These should help you understand some things a bit better!

By default, you are shown all works, including ones you might not be interested in! In order to narrow down the results, it's best to use work tags that match what you're looking for! Excluding results will be explained in the second part to this guide.

There are also different searches you can choose from on this page, those being People Search, Bookmark Search, & Tag Search! You can find the buttons for these below the empty search bar! I don't use these often myself, so I'm not confident in explaining how to use them, thus they are not included in this guide!

Search Works

Now that you've filtered what you want to be shown, you can hit the Search button near the top or bottom of the filter list! Don't click the one next to the empty search bar, but if you do, hitting the back arrow should take you back to the filter list!

For a more comprehensive guide with better explanations, I recommend checking out Ao3's official Tags FAQ, which includes what types of tags there are, how to tag your own works, & the process that goes into making tags, among other things!

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Congratulations! You've successfully searched for fics on Ao3! But, wait! This is not the only way to search on Ao3! However, this has gotten very long & so I have decided to make a second part, which you can find here!

[inkedinshadows]

The Prince and the Pauper

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Summary: The Heir of the Autumn Court should court a Lady, or at least a High Fae. He's not supposed to mingle with lesser faeries and low-borns. Right?

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.9k

Main Masterlist | Week Masterlist | Eris Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

The hallways of the Forest House had finally grown quiet after music flooded them during the ball. Held to celebrate the Heir’s birthday, it lasted hours, dragging on from the early afternoon until dinner.

You had been so jealous of the guests. They got to dance and enjoy a rich meal, wear fine gowns and expensive makeup, looking as if they had stepped out of a child's storybook.

Well, you assumed that for people with so much money, even fictional stories could turn into reality if they were just willing to pay for it.

But you—you had to bring the heavy trays of food from the kitchen up to the banquet hall, using the hidden passages for the servants. Cauldron forbid someone saw you.

The delicious smell of the food made your mouth water as you carried it upstairs. That was all you were allowed to do, really—breathe it in and wish you could at least take a bite. So much of it would be wasted anyway, but the High Lord would rather throw away the leftovers than give them to commoners.

With a sigh, you stopped in front of the doors to the Heir's chambers and knocked twice, the sound breaking the silence of the hallway.

“Come in.”

His voice was sharp and clear even from behind the wooden door. Authority dripped from those two simple words.

You turned the knob and pushed the door open, closing it behind you after you walked in, your eyes scanning the room in search of the Heir.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Eris Vanserra had always been beautiful, but tonight the word wasn't enough to describe him.

He was clad in a long burgundy tunic embroidered with golden threads, his long hair a cascade of fire down his shoulders. The dark brown pants completed the outfit, making him look every bit the regal Heir of the Autumn Court.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” you finally asked.

Eris let out a low chuckle and stalked toward you. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“You look like a prince,” you countered. “It's only right I address you as one.”

He shook his head, but you didn't miss the small smile on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I missed you tonight,” he murmured. “I wish you could have been there.”

Warmth spread through your chest, but you just lifted a brow. “I was there, you know,” you pointed out, looping your arms around his neck. “I kept sneaking in to bring fresh food for you fancy people.”

Eris's lips quirked up at the corner. He'd once told you it was one of the things that had made him fall in love with you—more than just your witty humor, it was how you'd never treated him as the Heir everybody had to fear and respect, but as a normal person. As if he were no different from you. Of course, you both knew it was just an illusion.

If there really hadn't been any difference between you and him, he wouldn't have been forced to keep his love for you a secret from everyone. Especially his father.

“You know that's not what I meant,” Eris said. His hands roamed over your back, as if having you close wasn't enough for him. “I wish you could have been by my side.”

You left a trail of kisses along his jaw. “Well, I'm here now.” Your lips brushed his. “Let's make the most of this time.”

Eris claimed your mouth in the kiss you didn't give him, but he soon pulled back.

“Later,” he murmured. He let you go and took a step back, pointing to the table set against the wall. “I brought you something.”

Your gaze followed to where he was pointing. A tray was set there, a dome lid hiding its contents.

Eris took your hand and gently guided you to the table. “My lady,” he offered, pulling out the chair for you.

You lifted a brow but sat with a smile. “I'm not your lady.”

A flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. “No,” he conceded. “But I wish you could be.”

You squeezed his hand, ready to tell him that just because you joked about it, it didn’t mean you didn’t wish the same.

But Eris smiled again. “Let me treat you as one while I can.”

He removed the lid from the tray, revealing small portions of at least five different dishes and a glass of sparkling red wine.

Your eyes widened, and your nose filled with the same enticing smells as just a few hours ago. Your mouth watered, and your heart swelled.

“I didn't know what you'd like,” Eris said. “So I took a few different things, just to be sure.”

Tugging on his hand, you pulled him down until he was at eye level with you.

“Thank you, Eris,” you murmured. Any hint of playfulness had disappeared, and only gratitude now laced your words. “This means a lot to me.”

You kissed him with all the passion you could, trying to convey with one simple kiss the depth of your love. But just like words weren't enough, neither were your touches or kisses—and maybe they never would be.

But at least you were trying.

“I love you,” you added when you leaned back.

“I love you too,” he replied with a smile. He sat next to you, then gestured to the tray. “But you'd better eat now, my darling. That heating spell won't last forever.”

You didn't need to be told twice.

Without wasting any more time, you picked up the fork and dove in.

Eris had summoned you to his chambers shortly after the celebration was over, so you'd come here immediately without eating first and you were hungry enough to finish it all in just a few minutes.

But you forced yourself to eat slowly. It wasn't every day that you got to eat such food—normally, servants would have bland, simple meals—and you intended to enjoy every second of this rare occasion.

Under Eris’ gaze, you took the first bite.

A low moan slipped past your lips as flavor exploded on your tongue.

Eris chuckled. “I'm usually the one getting that sound out of you,” he quipped. “Should I be jealous?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately, already taking another mouthful. “This is delicious. The best thing I've ever had.”

Not that the bar was high, anyway.

He had been careful in his selection of dishes. There was smoked beef and roasted pork, grilled fish and buttery buns, plus different types of vegetables. Each bite tasted better than the last one, and the wine… gods, the wine was sweet and fruity, cleansing your mouth with every sip. So different from the watered-down grape juice you sometimes drank in the kitchens.

Eris watched in silence as you savored your meal. Amusement lined his sharp features, but you were too busy eating to ask him what he found so entertaining.

Probably your enthusiasm—or the little noises you let out with every new flavor.

Once you were done and the dishes looked like they had been thoroughly cleaned, you set the knife and fork down and leaned back against the chair.

You didn’t know how you could go back to eating normal food after such a fancy meal, but you definitely knew you would never forget it.

Your eyes settled on Eris, who was still looking at you.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile. “It feels like Winter Solstice, but months in advance.”

Eris grinned. “Then you’ll be happy to know your presents are not done yet.”

He rose from his seat and extended a hand. You accepted it, letting him help you to your feet.

“There’s more?” you asked, scanning the room as if expecting to see a wrapped box somewhere.

“That depends on you, actually.”

Frowning, you turned back to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eris let go of your hand and walked up to the empty fireplace. He picked up a small, shiny sphere from the mantel.

“Darling,” he said slowly, glancing from the sphere to you, “do you know how to dance?”

You grew more curious and confused with each passing second, but you still shook your head. “No,” you answered. “No one ever taught me.”

“Well, that’s a real pity.”

As you approached him, Eris quickly tapped the smooth surface of the sphere twice. The light within seemed to shift, and then slow music began to play.

One of the sweet melodies you’d heard during his birthday celebration now filled the room, echoing crystal clear against the walls—without any of the crowd noise that had previously ruined it.

You gasped softly when you realized exactly what the sphere was.

“A Symphonia,” you murmured in awe.

You had heard about them, but you had never seen one before. It was a luxury you could never afford. The only music you could listen to was the kind played during balls or parties— or, if you were lucky, by some wandering minstrel down in the village on your day off. Sometimes, you could even catch echoes of the Lady playing the piano or the transverse flute in her rooms—though it happened less and less frequently ever since Lucien had left the Court.

Eris positioned the device back onto the black marble mantel, a crescendo of strings now flowing from it.

“I’ve had to dance with many people today,” he said when he turned to face you again. “But not with the only person I wanted to.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he offered you his hand.

“Can I have the honor of this dance, my lady?” he asked. He even bowed slightly, his fiery hair spilling over his shoulders.

“I already told you I don’t know how to dance,” you replied, yet you took his hand and let him pull you close.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. His scent of twinkling embers and nutmeg flooded your senses, and you rested your head against his chest, breathing it in and letting it soothe you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured you, placing a kiss on your hair. “We can enjoy it anyway.”

And so, you did.

Instead of the waltzing dance the music probably called for, you just swayed softly to the rhythm, holding each other and enjoying the moment in silence.

You were aware of how it must have looked like from the outside. Eris Vanserra, the Heir to the Autumn Court, dressed in his fancy, expensive clothes, dancing with a servant wearing only a simple tunic. It was laughable, really.

If the High Lord found out, you knew your punishment wouldn’t be limited to being sent away from the Forest House and losing your job.

But you refused to think about it. Especially not now.

Right now, you were here with Eris. And he was just that.

Not the Heir to his father’s title.

Not the General of the armies.

Just Eris.

The same Eris who had once seen you tending to his mother and had taken an interest in you. The same Eris who had never treated you as an inferior but as his equal, who had gone to lengths to prove to you that he wasn’t just looking for a quick fling with a girl he could forget an hour later before you would consider accepting his attention.

Dancing with him now, just you and him and no one else, with your belly full with exquisite food, was the closest you would get to feeling like you belonged to the high class.

But when the song ended, the spell broke, and the illusion that you could be anything more than what you were dissolved like the last notes of the melody. And though another one began playing shortly after, those few seconds of silence in between weighed heavily on you.

You were exhausted after being up since dawn to help prepare for the ball. Your feet hurt from climbing up and down the stairs while carrying heavy trays. And—as you were finding out just now—eating more than what you were used to hadn’t helped. You felt stuffed.

Reluctantly, you stepped back from Eris’ embrace.

“It’s late,” you sighed. “I should probably go.”

Eris looked disappointed. “Why? You could stay.”

You tilted your head to the side. “You know why. Someone might notice it if I don’t return to my room.”

He shook his head. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his words. Then he reached out and tapped the Symphonia again, and the music faded into silence.

He turned back to you, his expression almost pleading.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Just tonight, my love.”

The Cauldron knew how much you wanted to say yes. Even after months, you had never spent the whole night with him. It was too dangerous. One of the other servants might grow suspicious. It hadn’t happened yet, and the few times somebody had asked questions, you’d been quick to come up with a believable lie. But it didn’t mean you should take too many risks.

“It’s my birthday,” Eris added with a smirk. “You can’t say no to me on my birthday.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s a good point. But still, I don’t think—”

“No one will notice,” he insisted. “They never have.”

That was also true. And every night after a big event, you and the other members of the household staff usually collapsed into your cots and slept soundly till the next morning. So maybe, just this once, it was the perfect occasion to stay with him…

“Eris, I’m very tired,” you argued one last time—mostly so you could tell yourself you had tried everything to change his mind.

“That’s alright, I have a bed,” he replied instantly. His smirk widened, and before you could protest, he picked you up.

You laughed, arms looping around his neck as he carried you to his bedroom.

“Alright, you win,” you conceded. “But if someone scolds me tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure to tell them it’s your fault.”

“Deal.”

He pushed the door open with his foot, then set you down on the large bed in the center of the room.

A bed that was apparently already occupied.

You raised an eyebrow. “You let her sleep on your bed?”

Eris shrugged. “She cries if I leave her with the others.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, then reached out to scratch the hound behind her ears.

Noora lifted her head to look at you. She sniffed your hand for a few seconds and—probably recognizing you—licked it once. Then she yawned and tucked her snout back between her paws.

“You spoil her,” you chuckled. “And then you say you don’t have favorites.”

He laughed with you. “Don’t tell the others. They don’t know it’s a lie.”

You shook your head, but your attention soon shifted from the sleeping dog.

Eris started undressing, deft fingers making quick work of the buttons on his tunic. A small part of you was sad to see him discard such a handsome outfit, but it wasn’t as if you could complain about his physique.

Lean and tall, yet not lacking muscle. Especially that wonderful V-line disappearing just below the hem of his underwear—a line that made you want to pull the fabric off him in seconds.

“I thought you said you were tired.”

His voice cut through your thoughts, amusement lacing his tone.

“Are you suddenly awake?” he teased.

“Oh, I could definitely give up sleep for that,” you replied, pointing directly at that inviting line of muscle. “But alas, you let your dog sleep here.”

Eris arched a brow. “I could make her leave. It’s just one night.”

“No, it’s fine.” You sighed, then stood to take off your tunic. “Jokes aside, I really am tired.”

He pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, patting the mattress beside him. “Then come here.”

Wearing only your undergarments, you climbed into bed next to him. There was enough space for you, him, and Noora—and at least three more of Eris’ hounds. But you snuggled close to him, and he wrapped you in his arms, pulling you back against him until you were pressed against his chest.

“You can sleep as much as you need,” he murmured. His breath was warm against your neck. “I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble tomorrow.”

Even if he couldn’t see it, you smiled. Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers, lifting it to your mouth. You brushed your lips against the back of his hand.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes already drifting closed.

He kissed your shoulder. “I love you too, darling.”

It was the first—and probably the last—time you got to sleep in his arms, to wake up in the morning and have him next to you, still holding you close. And maybe you should take advantage of it and try to stay awake a little bit longer just to savor it for a few more moments.

But the peace and safety you felt in his arms were too strong to fight against, and you were soon drifting off to sleep.

And for just that one night, you could be two normal people who loved each other, regardless of status or titles.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[hederasgarden]

Eternal Devotion (3/3)

Summary: Months after your husband's untimely death, his presence lingers, haunting you in ways you never expected.  Pairing: Vampire!Friedrich Harding x Wife!Reader   Word Count: 6.6K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, period typical sexism, creepy things, vampirism, blood, and sexual content. Not all themes are tagged. A/N:  The reader has always been Friedrich’s wife, Anna does not exist in this AU. Big thanks to @ryebecca, @otaku-girl-ao3, @whatblogisthis216 , @eremeldanin and @bellrose for their help with this fic.   Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

"When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it." - Caitlyn Siehl 

In the quiet of your bedroom, you find yourself suddenly shy as you watch Friedrich move through the space you once shared as if he never left at all. He shrugs off his coat, untying his cravat and tosses it carelessly across the chair along with his gloves. When he sees you lingering in the doorway, a sweet, amused smile plays at the corners of his lips.

"Come here, my love," he calls softly, his hand reaching out, waiting for yours.

You step into his embrace, and he inhales deeply.

“You are a vision in red,” he whispers, trailing the back of his hand down your bare arm, the cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “And your smell,” he groans, “I have missed it.”

You turn your head, lips gliding over his cheek before finding his mouth. His hands slide to your waist, but he stays still, letting you guide the kiss. You moan and the sound seems to awaken something within him, the pressure on your sides increasing until it forces the air from your lungs painfully. In response, you curl your fingers into the rich fabric of his shirt, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t respond to your distress, his mouth moving hungrily over yours, his tongue ravenous for a taste of you.

Blood roars in your ears, and you sway on your feet, dizzy and desperate for air. When his mouth finally leaves yours, you gasp, your body sagging in his arms. Yet even then Friedrich does not seem to notice. He grasps the back of your neck tightly, his lips trailing down the curve of your jaw to brush the soft underside of your throat.

You whimper his name, and the sound seems to shake him from his fervor. He pulls back, his blue eyes shadowed in the flickering candlelight. You expect to find him breathless, undone, but his chest hardly rises with effort. 

“You afflict me so,” he murmurs, staring back at you. 

You’ve known Friedrich for more than half your life, every look, every gesture of his as familiar as your own, yet the expression on his face now is one you cannot place. Tentatively you touch the center of his chest and he shudders, passing a shaky hand over his mouth. He looks so pale and drained, and in that moment you feel foolish for forgetting all he’s done to return to you.

“You must be exhausted,” you say, withdrawing from him. “You should rest.”

Haltingly, as though it pains him, he nods in agreement. 

Together you help each other get ready for bed, slipping into the easy, comforting routine like no time has passed. Friedrich unlaces your corset and the feel of his cool fingers tracing the length of your spine sends a shiver through you. Once you are both undressed you slip under the covers together, and for the first time in nearly ten months, you fall into a deep, quiet slumber, wrapped in your husband’s arms. 

–

You wake in the morning to find the bed cool and empty beside you. Terror seizes your chest and for one awful moment, you fear that last night was nothing but a dream, your mind's desperate attempt to fill the unbearable emptiness inside you. You scramble from the bed, hands trembling as you search the room for any sign of him.

It’s then that you hear it, the low rumble of masculine laughter, followed by a giggle and a sharp squeal of delight from down the hall. Hastily, you slip into your morning robe, tightening it around your waist. The floor creaks beneath your feet as you make your way to your daughters’ bedroom. There, Friedrich sits on the floor, surrounded by their scattered toys, your youngest in his lap, her laughter rising and falling with each flurry of kisses he presses to her face. Your oldest clings to his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her giggles mixing with her sister’s joy.

"I fear we have woken your mother," Friedrich mock-whispers to them playfully.

"It was a pleasing way to wake," you assure him, crossing the room to open the curtains and let in the bright morning light.

"No, Mama!" your youngest cries, her shriek of alarm halting you in your tracks. She tugs at your hand with both of hers.

"You mustn't let the light in," your oldest adds, breathless with urgency.

Perplexed, you glance at Friedrich, but he simply raises his brow. Seeing the serious look in your children's eyes, you realize whatever game they’re playing must be more important to them than you’d first thought.

“Alright, alright,” you relent, allowing your daughter to pull you away from the windows and towards Friedrich. 

He’s quick to pull you down to sit in his lap. One of his hands rests on your thigh, while the other rubs soothing circles on your hip. Together, you watch your children, their sweet faces so unburden and happy as they dart from one end of the room to the other. They are breathless with energy. 

“Mama, I am hungry,” your youngest announces. 

“Must we go downstairs to eat? I want Papa to stay here with us!” your eldest whines.

"Perhaps we should take our breakfast here then," you suggest with a mischievous smile, glancing behind you at Friedrich. "They seem quite intent on their game."

“My love,” he protests. “You would have us eat on the floor, like some…bohemians?” he asks, scandalized by the very thought. 

You bite your bottom lip, struggling to hold back the smile that threatens to break through. For a man so concerned with propriety and restraint, your husband showed remarkably little of either when it came to his desire for you. It’s almost amusing that breakfast in your rooms seems to be where he draws the line.

"Oh yes, please, Papa, can we?" your daughters beg, their eyes wide with excitement.

Friedrich looks between you and the children before letting out a short, incredulous laugh. "We are civilized people, not some…wandering artists!”

“It is just for today,” you promise him, hoping to sway him with the softness of your voice.

The tension in his face eases and before he speaks you know you’ve won. With a resigned sigh he says, “You know I cannot deny you anything.”

The children cheer, moving to arrange cushions and blankets around them, boundless in their joy. The rest of the day is spent lounging in their rooms and enjoying the assortment of food brought by the servants. You feel a deep sense of contentment and safety, your head resting on Friedrich’s shoulder as you watch your daughters spring across the room, performing a dizzying, convoluted play just for the two of you.

When dusk settles you withdraw from him reluctantly, all too aware the real world awaits you. 

“We should prepare for dinner,” you say. “My parents will arrive soon.”

“I sent word to them this morning to cancel.” He glances at you before returning his attention back to your children.

You look up at him, surprised. “I know you are…unhappy with my father,” you begin, but he cuts you off with a sharp look.

“That is a matter I will address with him myself,” he says, the abrupt shift in his tone making it clear the discussion is closed. When you draw away from him, surprised, his features soften into something more familiar and kind. He squeezes your waist reassuringly. “For now,” he continues, “I simply want to spend time with my wife and children, without distraction. They can come in a week's time. Perhaps two.”

"Of course," you agree, your heart lifting. 

You want nothing more than to hide away with your family, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Friedrich sighs, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb before urging you to share a sweet, lingering kiss with him.

–

The weeks that follow are some of the happiest of your life. 

Despite the very real demands of Friedrich’s work and the countless matters that require his attention to set right everything left undone during his absence, he gives you and the girls his full attention during the day. Every one of their whims is indulged with patience and tenderness. He is rarely far from you, his presence a steady comfort, except in the evenings when he retreats to his office to bury himself in his work. It feels like the best kind of dream, one you never want to wake from.

Yet, as the days pass, you can’t help but notice how your time apart has changed him. Most of them are small, almost unnoticeable oddities that you assume must be from all he’s endured to return to you. But then there are the other changes, the ones that loom larger and give you pause. The servants whisper about them in hushed tones, their concern barely concealed. Your parents notice it too when they come for dinner, nearly two weeks after their original visit was postponed. Their eyes linger on Friedrich, an unspoken disquiet in their gaze that they don’t quite manage to hide.

“It is rather...dim in here,” your mother remarks politely, her gaze shifting past you to the drawn curtains of the dining room. 

The heavy fabrics keep out the last remnants of daylight and candlelight illuminates the room, casting shadows on the walls. The servants keep them burning constantly, there’s no other choice with the sun so often shut out at your husband’s request.

"The sunlight hurts my eyes," Friedrich replies as he pushes a fork idly around his plate, the food barely touched. 

You glance at your father, whose attention is fixed on your husband, a quiet scrutiny in his gaze.

“He spent so long below deck in the ship's hold," you explain. “The doctors said it would take time to adjust.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” your mother says, though there’s something in the way she says it that suggests she’s not quite as convinced. “And the children do not mind?”

Friedrich tenses, the hand resting on the table curling into a fist. You’re quick to cover it with your own. He exhales, the tension leaving his body in a slow release. Beneath your touch, his fist gradually unfurls, and he turns his hand palm up, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“No,” you tell your mother. 

Truthfully you had worried how the children would react to the near-perpetual dimness at first, but they seemed to adjust to it with surprising ease. Now, the shadowed corners of your home no longer faze them though you make a special effort to take them outside, letting them soak up the sunlight.

“That is good,” your mother replies earnestly before falling silent.

You’re thankful for your daughters, whose sweet voices fill the silence with excited chatter. It should be comforting to speak with your mother and children, but you’re all too aware of the quiet tension between your husband and father. Neither man seems at ease. In the past, your father and Friedrich were always polite to each other — respectful, but never truly friendly.

It’s almost a relief when the meal finally comes to an end and the servants begin clearing the dishes. You don’t comment on how little Friedrich has eaten. Each time you’ve brought it up in the past, he’s dismissed your concerns with a firm response that leaves no room for further discussion.

As you begin gathering the children and preparing them for bed, Friedrich invites your father to join him for a nightcap and a smoke in his office. You exchange a quick look with your mother, her concern clearly reflected in your own.

“We will not be long,” Friedrich promises, bringing your knuckles to his cool lips. “Go, take your mother.”

Getting the children settled turns out to be more difficult than you anticipate, and you find yourself half distracted through most of it, your mind lingering on what might be happening downstairs.  By the time you finally make your way back to the foyer, Friedrich’s office door is still firmly shut. You pause, straining to hear any sounds coming from inside, but all you’re met with is silence.

Your mother shifts beside you, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before clearing her throat.

“How are things since Friedrich’s return?” she inquires. “He seems…much changed.”

The question catches you off guard and for a moment, you're silent. You sense the weight behind her words, the quiet invitation to reveal your own fears, and you hesitate — afraid your worries will spill over into something you’re not ready to share. She already seems heavy with concern, and the last thing you want is to add to that.

"He is still our Friedrich," you reply. "He is merely adjusting after his illness.”

“Of course,” she concedes. She steps closer, her hands covering yours as her worried gaze meets your. “And how are you, my darling girl?”

"I am so happy he returned to us," you tell her with an honest smile. "I was lost without him...so scared, so alone. His absence —" You falter, the grief you thought had faded surging up again. Tears prick your eyes at the thought and you touch your chest, as if to stem the tide of emotions. "I-I could not survive losing him again.”

“You will not,” your mother assures you quickly. She squeezes your hands with a strength that grounds you. You nod, the truth of her words sinking in — Friedrich is here, and he will not leave you again.

She opens her mouth to say more, but the sound of a door creaking open has you both turning. Friedrich emerges first, a cigarette dangling loosely between the fingers that holds a glass of brandy. Smoke curls around him as he steps into the dim hallway, his expression unreadable in the low light. Your father slips past, giving him a wide berth. There’s something deeply off about his demeanor and you can see it in his eyes, a flicker of something uneasy, something wrong that he’s trying to hide.

“I believe we understand one another now,” Friedrich remarks.

“Yes,” your father says, his voice clipped and curt. He doesn't even look at you, his focus firmly on the door as he urges your mother to follow him. “We will bid you both a good night now.”

You take a step forward, but hesitate, confused by the abruptness of their departure. You turn to Friedrich and ask, "Did something happen?"

"It is nothing for you to worry over," he assures you, drawing you into his side. When his lips find yours the kiss is deeper than usual, the bitter edge of the smoke mixing with the warmth of the liquor. 

“Are the children asleep?” he asks once you part.

“Yes.”

“That is good,” he replies, brushing his knuckle over your cheek. His thumb lingers, stroking your skin as he watches you. You stare back at him in return, sensing a subtle shift in his mood. His gaze moves behind you, toward the door.

“Shall I fetch your coat?” you ask, wondering if he needs to take one of his solitary walks.

“You know me so well, my love,” he praises, his expression filled with affection as you gather his coat for him. 

You’ve grown accustomed to these late-night walks, the way he slips out after dusk when the pale glow of the gas lamps casts long shadows on the street. He’s never gone long, and when he comes back to you, he seems more settled. The color and life return to his face, though it fades again almost as quickly as it came. You wonder if it’s the quiet of the night that soothes him, that elusive solitude that's absent with the presence of you and the children. After so long spent in the depths of that ship, returning to a life so full of people and sound must be a struggle.

You’re not sure how long you stand in the foyer after he departs, lost in thought, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock the only sound breaking the silence. Eventually Kerstin appears. She pulls you back to reality with a tentative hand on your shoulder.

“Do you wish to retire for the evening?” she asks. 

“Yes. I suppose I should go,” you remark. 

Kerstin helps you undress in Friedrich’s absence, her quiet presence a small comfort as she tends to the fire in the hearth, stoking it until the flames crackle and cast a soft, yellow glow across the room. While she works your mind drifts to the unsettling events of dinner and your father’s odd behavior. It’s hard to feel settled without Friedrich beside you so you wait, lost in the silence of the room, for his return.  

The floor creaks outside the door and you turn instinctively. Friedrich enters, offering you a brief, fleeting smile. The tension in your chest abates, comforted by his presence. He sheds his clothes, layer by layer, until only his pants and a white shirt remain before climbing into bed beside you.

“Good night, my love,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

Disappointment settles like a stone in your heart when he turns on his side, curling his body protectively around yours and falls still. It has been the same every night since his return. A kiss and nothing more. Even on the evenings that turn passionate, he stops before his touch can dip into what you truly desire. You find yourself wondering what it is you've done wrong, what has changed. During the day, he seems happy, content even, and yet there’s a quiet weight that steals the joy you should feel. Friedrich has returned to you, and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? 

You try to remind yourself of that each time the insecurity surfaces. Tonight it’s harder to remember that, especially when your thoughts return to one of the last conversations you had with Friedrich before he left. You were lying in this very bed, your bodies intertwined, sweat cooling on your skin as you traded lazy kisses. Even now you can recall the warmth of his hands on your skin, the way your bodies had fit together so perfectly. 

“Perhaps when I return, you will be with child,” he had murmured softly against your lips.

The thought made your heart swell in your chest. “A son,” you had breathed, watching as the thought spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with something deeper than desire.

But that dream slipped away before you even knew you lost him. 

You let loose a pained sigh, your hand falling to your stomach to brush the soft fabric of your nightgown. Behind you the bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s hand on your shoulder, firm but gentle, guiding you onto your back as he stares down at you.

“What ails you?” He questions, his face filled with concern.

“It is nothing,” you assure him, watching his expressive brows draw together and then smooth. 

“I—” you begin, faltering before forcing yourself to continue. “You have been so different lately. You do not touch me as you used to and I thought, perhaps, after you returned that you would want to try again for a child. A son.” 

Friedrich pulls back as if you’ve struck him, his lips parting in a sharp, quiet breath. The look of raw pain that crosses his face has you reaching for him, confused and alarmed, but he’s already on his feet, moving away from you with a speed that shocks you. He claws at the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric between bone white fingers.  

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head, as though your words have wounded him somehow, piercing something fragile within him.

“My love, please. What is it?” you ask, reaching for him again. 

He opens his mouth as though to speak, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Without another sound, he turns sharply, his movements jerky as he crosses the room. 

Your voice is a broken plea as you call his name, but he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t acknowledge you. His posture is rigid, his back tense, but there's a tremor in the hand that settles on the door. For a brief moment you think he might return to you until he steps through the door, closing it behind him. You remain frozen, your mind reeling in confusion at the fast turn of events. 

The urge to follow him is so strong that you nearly rise from the bed, your body already halfway to the floor before you force yourself to stay. Fights were a rare occurrence in your marriage but if you’ve upset Friedrich it would be wise to give him space. So you stay, lost in your thoughts until your eyelids grow heavy and the constant buzzing of your mind slows to a dull hum. The night slips away unnoticed, the world around you fading as you drift into a fitful slumber.

When you wake again, anxious and adrift, you find Friedrich has returned. You almost don’t see him at first. His figure is barely visible, sitting in the shadowed chair before the fireplace where only embers remain, their warmth lost long ago. 

"I shall never have a son," he says hoarsely, a quiet, unsettling stillness about him. “Nor a daughter."

Your legs slip from the bed, your bare feet barely touching the cold floor when he speaks again. 

“Come no closer,” he growls. The strength behind his words rattles your chest, echoing in your mind, pinning you in place.

“You are frightening me, Friedrich,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have not even begun to frighten you, my love," he says softly, the sorrow in his tone settling like a shadow over you. “I thought if I kept pretending,” he begins as if speaking to himself, “things could be like they were before. That you could have me back as I was.”

Even though you don’t understand his words, they stir a quiet unease in you. You want to reach out to him, but the way he holds himself keeps you still.

“But you’re here now. With us,” you remind him softly. “Just as it should be.”

Friedrich doesn't respond, and the silence stretches out, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wait, watching him, wondering if he’s even heard you. 

Then, finally, he speaks. 

"I died. Though not in the way you imagined,” he begins, his words low and strained. “When Ellen and I found Thomas...it was too late. For all of us.” His eyes flutter, and for the first time since he began speaking, he looks away from you. “When I woke, I was not the same.”

You wait for him to continue, to explain but he only stares at the floor with an empty expression. “You are still my Friedrich,” you assure him, taking a tentative step forward.

His eyes snap back to you, dark and unblinking and you see a rawness to him, a hunger in his gaze, as if something inside him is clawing to get free. Something that would consume him if he let it. He rises from the chair and the shadows cast by the faint light remaining in the room stretch behind him, making him seem almost monstrous. Slowly, hypnotically, he moves towards the bed, his steps soundless. 

“Ellen was not mad. What haunted her was real,” he says. “And now, he has made me like him.”

The memory of Ellen’s terror surges to the forefront of your mind. Her frantic muttering, the words tumbling out in a panic about the demon that pursued her. You think of Professor von Franz’s wild claims she was haunted by a vampyre. Those ridiculous accusations had been the catalyst that finally pushed Friedrich to agree to what Ellen had desperately begged him to do — return her to Thomas.

You shake your head to deny the absurdity of your husband’s confession. But deep down, a part of you already knows the truth. It’s been there all along, quietly accumulating like a slow, inevitable tide with each subtle shift and unspoken change you noticed and ignored since his return. There is a fundamental, irrevocable rupture in the essence of your husband, a hunger that has transformed him into something unrecognizable. 

A vampyre. 

The word lingers in your mind, its weight sinking deeper with each passing moment. You think of your children, your eyes instinctively drifting to the wall that separates your room from theirs, a barrier that suddenly feels so thin and fragile. Your pulse quickens, and the air grows heavier.

Friedrich seems to sense your thoughts before you can voice them.

"I could never harm them," he says so steadily and sincerely that it leaves no room for doubt.  

You stiffen when his fingertips brush over your jaw, the coldness so stark that you don’t understand how you never noticed it before. You want to retreat from his touch but you feel rooted to the floor, some force beyond your control anchoring you in place.

"It was always you I could not resist," he admits, his words thick with desire.

As his fingers trail down the side of your neck, the sensation sharpens a memory deep within you. Fragments of your dreams begin to slip into focus, flooding back with startling clarity, almost overwhelming in their intensity. The flash of sharp teeth beneath his mustache, the scent of blood in the air. The mix of pain and pleasure. 

"They were not dreams," you whisper.

“No,” he replies, his hand resting against the side of your throat, seeking out the ache that has never quite faded. 

His confession frightens you, your mind struggling to reconcile the man you love with the creature standing before you. Yet even as you turn from him, overwhelmed with terror, there’s another part of you — one that loves him so completely, so unconditionally — that pulls you back toward him. The longer his fingers linger at your throat, the harder it becomes to tell where love ends and fear begins.

"You must know, I never intended to remain," he admits. "I only wanted to see you...and the children, just once more. To smell their hair and kiss their sweet faces." His gaze falters, a deep sorrow flickering in the depths of his eyes. "They looked so innocent, so pure...but I knew they would be well. They had you."

He moves closer, his chest hovering just inches from yours, a space that would have been filled with breath if he were still capable of it. But instead, he remains unnervingly still.

"Then I found you here," he continues, his words soft and haunting, "in this bed, so lost in grief. You were dreaming, and you whispered my name. You called for me, and in that moment...I could not leave you. I could not bring myself to walk away." 

Tears shimmer in his eyes, his emotions raw and vulnerable. You never expected to see your own grief mirrored in his face. The sight twists like a knife through your chest, an unbearable ache.

“That is my greatest sin, my love,” he whispers, his voice breaking with the weight of his confession. "That I could not let you go.”

The desire to comfort him and ease his grief compels you to act, but you find yourself frozen — locked inside your body, unable to move, to speak, to do anything more than listen as he continues. 

“I thought I would be content to simply watch, but then your father…” His words twist, and that monstrous intent you had glimpsed before surges between you, fierce and ravenous, filling the space between you. “He intended to barter you off to those vile men. I could not — would not — let that happen.”

Your stomach heaves at the implications of his words. You want him to stop speaking, to unburden you of this awful knowledge but he presses forward, relentlessly even as the first of your tears begin to fall. 

“Do not weep for those loathsome creatures, my love,” he says, his gaze hardening. “They would have hurt you. Hurt our children.”

You shake your head as if that very motion might change the truth of his words. “You killed them,” you whisper, horrified. 

“Yes.” 

There is no shame in his voice, no regret in the familiar blue eyes that meet yours — only the overwhelming weight of his devotion, so thick it feels like it could crush you. You take a half step back, the solid wood of the bedpost halting your retreat. Friedrich moves forward, closing the distance between you with unsettling ease, trapping you with his body. Fear tightens in your stomach, squeezing the breath from your lungs. 

“It was but a simple thing to take their lives,” he whispers, his hands framing your hips. 

A shiver runs through him as he presses his cheek to yours. His touch is so familiar that your body reacts before your mind, instinctively leaning into him even as fear urges you to pull away. His lips trail from your cheek to somewhere lower and you flinch, gasping in short, panicked breaths. You can feel the wild flutter of your pulse that he seeks out. 

“Will you take my life too?” The question escapes before you can stop it, fear clinging to every syllable.

Friedrich recoils from you, the weight of his presence receding, and you inhale shakily, as if the space between you can finally fill with air again. His posture shifts, and the sharpness in his expression softens. You stare at him, and for a fleeting moment, he feels familiar again — your Friedrich once more. 

“No,” he replies anguished, the mere idea of what you’ve asked unfathomable to him. “You are my wife,” he says, as if that alone is all the answer you need.  

In the silence that follows he studies your face, searching for something — some sign that you know not how to give him. 

"I never meant for it to be like this,” he whispers. He takes a small step back, his gaze lowering, filled with a deep, agonizing regret. "I should have let you go.” His hands clench and unclench at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hesitates, and then, almost too quietly, as if the admission is one he can hardly bear, he murmurs, “I must leave.”  

When he looks up again his expression is devoid of any emotion. “I shall ensure your well-being, and see to it the children are provided for.” He speaks as though he is very far away, his tone is calm, distant. “You will not need to remarry for the sake of security."

The thought of losing him again wrenches something from deep inside you. For all the darkness in him, for the monstrous thing that lives beneath his skin, you realize that the idea of life without him is a void you could not survive again. You can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the sudden, crushing terror. 

“No,” you sob, the mix of fear, desire, and love so tightly wound together that you can no longer distinguish one from the other. You move towards him, your steps unsteady, as though the very ground beneath you is crumbling. “You cannot leave me. Not again.”

“Do not," he pleads, stepping back just out of reach, his voice thick with desperation. "I have not the resolve to deny you."

"You are my husband," you remind him, tearfully. "You made a vow to me."

"Till death," he answers, his grip tightening around your hands, halting your frantic reach for him. "But I no longer live."

“I care not,” you tell him, the weight of your love for him, your need to have him here with you the only thing that matters. The thought of losing him again is unbearable. It twists you with desperation, a wild, consuming need, and in this moment of painful clarity, you finally understand why he stayed, why he endured the torment of his own nature – all for you and your daughters. 

“We can make a new vow,” you urge desperately, pushing aside the turmoil within. You should be repulsed by what he's become. But something deeper pulls at you, a love so fierce and unyielding it overrides every ounce of logic. You love him too much to let go.

Friedrich watches you then, his gaze full of hunger and pain, and you know that he’s fighting himself, fighting his love for you. The very same battle raging within you.

“You do not know me any longer,” he replies. "I know you,” you insist. “You are the man who has tended to our daughters with such devotion since his return. His love for them is as steadfast as the love he bears for me. A man who has always upheld his marriage vow, to protect and cherish me.”

He shakes his head but it is a halfhearted denial. 

“I love you, Friedrich,” you whisper. “Please.”

The words have hardly left you when his lips are on yours, his hands grasping desperately for you. He pushes you towards the bed, his body enveloping yours when he presses you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. The relief you feel is a heavy, wondrous thing and you part your lips, allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. 

A whimper slips from you when he pulls away, but he’s quick to quiet you. He grips your nightgown with both hands and wrenches it apart to bare your body to his heated gaze. He kisses each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling it until it grows hard and achy before paying the same attention to the other. 

His mouth trails lower, down your soft stomach, tenderly kissing each line and mark left from carrying his children. When he reaches the soft tufts of hair that hide one of his favorite parts of you he inhales deeply. He uses two fingers to spread you open, his tongue seeking out the delicate bundle of nerves. Your eyes close and you clutch a fistful of his curly hair, pulling it urgently, needing him even closer.

Friedrich knows your body intimately and as he worships between your thighs your voice grows louder, a hunger stirring low in your belly. Your hips rise and fall, meeting his mouth, crying in delight when he gently works a finger inside. 

“I shall never grow tired of the taste of you…your warmth,” he praises, slipping a second finger beside the first. 

He curls them, moving like a relentless wave upon the shore, steady and rhythmic. When his thumb circles your bud with tender attention you grasp the bedsheets and groan. You feel so close, every muscle in your body pulled tight in anticipation of release. The bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s lips brush down your inner thigh as his fingers continue their steady work. 

“Come for me,” he commands, an unsettling current under his words that your body can’t help but obey. 

You peak with his name on your lips, louder and more wanton than you’ve ever been. As your orgasm washes through you, a faint pulse of pain threads beneath the euphoria, blending with the sensation in a tangled, confusing mix. You realize then Friedrich’s feeding from you, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of your inner thigh to draw more than pleasure from you. His fingers still work within you and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he drinks until your vision grows hazy and unfocused.

When you open your eyes again he’s shed his clothes, the coolness of his naked flesh sending a shiver through you. The two of you share a sweet, lingering kiss and he pulls back, staring down at you. Your eyes are drawn to the wound on his chest, a jagged mark left by the creature. Tentatively, you raise your hand, watching his face as you reach for it. He doesn’t stop you, but his chest rises and falls sharply, a long-forgotten reflex in anticipation of your touch. 

You brush your fingers over his torn skin and he shudders when your lips follow, offering him acceptance and benediction the only way you know how. He whispers your name and your thighs part in welcome. There’s no pain as he slips inside, just that familiar ache you’ve been craving. You gaze up at him in the dim light, watching his blue eyes shimmer with a flash of silver that fades and returns with each roll of his hips. 

His eyes close when you wrap a leg around his hip, urging him to reach deeper inside you. After all this time, you need more from him, all the passion and desire he’s trembling with the effort to hold back. Your heart has made its choice, binding itself to him in a way that transcends fear, desire, and everything else and you want him to know that.  

“It is okay, my love,” you urge, baring your throat to him. 

Your words cause his pace to falter and he stares at you with a deep crease in his brow. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. 

“I want you. All of you,” you assure him. 

Friedrich’s lips part, curling up to reveal teeth sharper than you remember. In a blink he lunges forward, his chest pressing into yours as his mouth seals over the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. Your skin gives way under his teeth, and a deep growl resonates in his throat. His hips drive into you hard enough for the bed to creak dangerously and you wrap your arms around him, holding on until your limbs become too heavy.

There’s no fear in this moment, only immense, indescribable pleasure. You smile at him as he pulls away, the coolness of his breath still lingering on your skin. His tongue flicks over a stray drop of your blood at the corner of his mouth, the motion slow and deliberate, almost reverent, as though savoring every bit of you. The sight sends an unexpected jolt of desire through you, as intoxicating as it is unsettling.

You moan beneath him, digging your nails into his biceps when he pulls your knees to your chest. It hurts in the best way possible and you share a messy, coppery kiss as he groans into your mouth, the sounds of his desperate desire enough to herald your own end. Every part of your body hums with pleasure, except for the sharp sting in your neck. 

You touch the torn skin gingerly, the sluggish flow of your blood surely staining the sheets beneath you. Friedrich brings your fingers to his lips, cleaning them with his tongue. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth, puncturing the skin. Dark red blood wells up from the wound, and you watch breathlessly as he traces the bite mark on your throat. Your skin tingles and you look questioningly at him.

“There will be no mark,” he assures you.

Cautiously you touch your throat, finding only smooth, unblemished skin. You look up at him in amazement.

“I do not deserve such a look,” he says. “I am a monster.”

“You are my Friedrich,” you reply, echoing the words you spoke earlier, your hands gently cradling his face.

Your thumbs stroke his skin, taking in the familiar way his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, his gaze filled with adoration. He rests his forehead against yours, and you smile wider than before, the joy you feel almost too much to bear.

Even now, with everything that has come to light, your love for him remains unshaken. He is woven into the very fabric of your soul, as much a part of you as the blood that courses through your veins. No matter what comes next, your love for Friedrich will endure. The bond between you is eternal, transcending time and even the boundaries of life itself. 

♡

Thank you all so much for reading this series! I had a bit of a tough time with the ending, so I really hope you enjoyed it. Your thoughts and feedback mean everything to me, so feel free to leave a comment, reblog, or send an ask if you’d like!

[whizzing-fizzbee]

This Is How It Starts

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC) (And some temporary Andrew Larson x Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 10,402 Themes: friends to lovers, sexual tension, sexual frustration, shitty boyfriends

Summary: You're going absolutely, utterly mental. Your boyfriend, Andrew Larson, hasn't touched you in weeks and you're growing desperate. When he's unwilling to help relieve your sexual tension, your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, always has your back.

Notes: This one's mainly just some shameless smut. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Reader is female MC. Inspired by "Sex" by The 1975.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

You blew a puff of air upward, hoping it would release the strand of hair that was currently plastered to your face. Sweat trickled from your hairline, over your temples and down your neck until it disappeared beneath your shirt collar.

It was abnormally hot outside, but there was no chance you were going to miss the quidditch final. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that promised a match for the ages – not to mention your very best friend was a Slytherin beater.

“Get him, Seb!” you screamed as your best friend whizzed overhead in pursuit of a bludger. Slytherin had a 40-point lead and the match was approaching its second hour of play. Gryffindor was holding its own, but its players were clearly growing weary against Slytherin’s physical and aggressive style of play. If the Slytherin seeker could just catch that damn snitch, the party could start.

Suddenly, the Slytherin seeker initiated a sharp nose dive and you screamed in encouragement. She hurtled toward the ground, two Gryffindors tailing close behind in an attempt to knock her off course. Their desperation was palpable and you feared they might knock her off her broom if she got too close to the snitch.

Sebastian was attempting to corral another bludger. You watched nervously as his eyes narrowed in concentration, his bat raised until he connected it with the bludger. It careened toward the Gryffindors, forcing them to abandon their path.

“Yes, go, go, go!” you screamed so loud, Ominis Gaunt had to cover his ears from his seat next to you. You had dragged the poor boy along to the match, despite his incessant reminders that he would be unable to see any of the action. But he was the other third of your trio and the undeniable glue that held you and Sebastian together, so you convinced him that Sebastian deserved both of your support that day.

“Go, Alice, go!” you screamed at the seeker, silently praying your housemate would come through for Slytherin. She inched closer and closer to the ground, her fist closing around the snitch with about five feet to spare.

The stadium erupted in a frenzy. You grabbed Ominis by the head, hugging him to your chest as you screamed and bounced in elation. He squawked in protest, but even he couldn’t conceal the smile that had formed across his lips.

The Slytherin team descended to the center of the quidditch pitch until they piled up in a massive group hug. You laughed as you spotted Sebastian at the bottom of the pile, his grin clear even from your seats high up in the stands.

Headmaster Black strode to the center of the pitch with Madam Kogawa carrying the quidditch cup close behind. Professor Sharp met them and motioned for the Slytherin team to gather around, where he presented them with the cup.

The Slytherins in the stands roared with applause and you whistled as loud as you could, drawing another annoyed glance from Ominis.

“Come on, let’s get down there!” you said, tugging on the sleeve of Ominis’ robe. 

“Yes, mother,” he sighed as he drew his wand, its red tip guiding him as you pulled him through the sea of students.

Once you reached the bottom of the staircase, your eyes scanned the grounds in search of Sebastian. Sad and angry Gryffindors shoved past you, coaxing a laugh from you as you continued toward the center of the pitch. Finally, you spotted Sebastian engaged in an animated chat with Imelda Reyes, who was smiling smugly while the rest of their team continued to celebrate with the cup hoisted into the air.

“Sebastian!” you screeched as you launched yourself toward the boy. You threw your arms around him and leapt, your legs wrapping around his torso as he stumbled backward to brace his balance. “You did it!” you practically screamed in his face. You hugged him tightly as more bodies clad in green flooded onto the pitch.

Sebastian offered you a goofy grin as he supported your weight, his arms squeezing you tightly so you wouldn’t slip.

“That boyfriend of yours is going to kill me,” he murmured in your ear. You drew backward slightly to give him a pointed look.

“You and I both know you’d demolish him in a duel,” you said. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Sebastian said with a shrug. He set you on your feet and draped an arm around your shoulder. “I’m going to get cleaned up and changed. See you at the after party?”

“I’ve got a bottle of firewhiskey with your name on it.”

You skipped off to find Ominis again, but were instead met by your boyfriend. He was leaning against the entrance archway of the pitch, his arms crossed as his stare followed you. You sighed to yourself and begrudgingly trudged toward him.

“Hey,” you said, your tone much more feeble compared to the shouting and squealing you’d done moments ago.

“Hey.” You could tell he was cross with you from the way his jaw clenched, though his eyes were calm and cool.

“Some match, huh?” you said cheerily, hoping you could bring his mood up rather than the opposite.

“Sure was.”

He was clearly in no mood to discuss quidditch, so you slipped your arm through his. “You okay?” you asked.

“I was until I saw you and Sallow.”

“Andrew,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping in frustration. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s not like that with Sebastian.”

“And I’ve told you a million times that I’m not comfortable with the way you two egg each other on,” Andrew replied hotly. “The way you two carry on is improper and it’s disrespectful to me. His reputation is going to ruin yours.”

Sebastian was a known flirt who had earned a reputation for his extracurricular activities with half of the girls who attended Hogwarts. He didn’t have girlfriends, though, and you secretly wondered if he’d ever settle down. As a result, your friendship with Sebastian had endured its fair share of rumors and speculation as people wondered if you’d ever venture past the threshold of platonic kindred spirits. 

“We’re just friends,” you tried, but Andrew glared to cut you off.

“Yes, I get it,” he snapped. “You, Sallow and Gaunt, Slytherin’s special little trio. But you’re my girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, already tired of fighting. You didn’t want Andrew to feel slighted by you. If the tables were turned and some girl was climbing all over him, you knew you wouldn’t like it. 

But you and Andrew were vastly different. You were bolder, more outspoken and adventurous. Hell, you were the hero of Hogwarts two years ago when you saved the school from Ranrok. 

Andrew was more studious and reserved, a true Ravenclaw. Professors liked him, but for reasons that differed from the way they liked you. You were creative and savvy when it came to magic, whereas Andrew boasted the kind of intelligence that manifested in the form of logic and reason.

When you first started dating Andrew, Ominis and Sebastian laughed at you. They teased you like brothers, poking fun at your new boyfriend.

“Has he even been in a duel, ever?” Sebastian had chortled.

“And isn’t he friends with Puffskein Duncan?” Ominis added.

You chided them for their judgment and teasing, but Ominis, ever the prim and proper gentleman, later pulled you aside to tell you he was happy for you. He said Andrew was smart and would take good care of you, to which you snorted and reminded Ominis this was merely a teenage romance. You couldn’t see yourself invested in anything long-term with Andrew and were merely interested to see where your relationship would lead.

When you mentioned this to Sebastian in passing one morning as the two of you lounged in the Slytherin Common Room, he snickered.

“So Larson’s too dry to earn any consideration for a long-term commitment?” he mused.

"I've used Crucio on you before. Don't think I won't do it again," you warned.

"I'm just saying! Seems like he's a giant waste of time."

You huffed at him in annoyance. “While he and I likely won’t make it beyond Hogwarts, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least respect our relationship for its duration,” you scolded. 

“The only thing I respect about Larson is that he somehow managed to finesse the school’s most eligible bachelorette into dating him,” Sebastian quipped. You rolled your eyes and hit him with a sofa cushion. “But seriously, what do you see in him?”

“He’s… smart,” you replied, which merely provoked a menacing laugh from Sebastian.

“Smart,” he repeated blankly.

“And he’s creative,” you continued. “And handsome.”

“What exactly do the two of you even talk about?” Sebastian asked, leaning forward curiously. “I mean, you’re complete opposites. What do you have in common?”

He wasn’t wrong. Most students were quick to point out that you and Andrew were an unlikely pair when you began dating. But you were attracted to Andrew. He was tall and handsome with an assured smile and composure.

“Opposites attract,” you quipped. “Some balance is good every now and then.” You weren’t sure you actually believed that statement, but you were going to pretend for now.

That was six months ago and now, the inevitable end to your Hogwarts days was approaching. You and Andrew hadn’t discussed your future as a couple, but you weren’t in any rush to do so – especially since you hardly felt like a couple these days.

The upcoming N.E.W.T.s had taken priority for all seventh years. Even Sebastian had been spending an uncharacteristic amount of time studying in the Undercroft. The two of you both aspired to be curse breakers, but the most coveted positions – curse breaking for Gringotts – were limited to two.

You were a shoo-in for one of the spots, given your famed history and experience. All you needed to do was score high on your N.E.W.T.s, which you were confident you’d ace. Sebastian should have been a certain choice for Gringotts as well, but he couldn’t exactly reveal all of the research and hands-on experience he had gained while trying to reverse Anne’s curse during his fifth year without raising suspicion. 

“Are you coming to the Slytherin victory party?” you finally asked Andrew, hoping your innocent upward gaze would soften his mood.

Instead, he blinked at you. “I’m a Ravenclaw,” he deadpanned. 

The evening sky was growing darker, and you knew the celebration would be underway soon. The dinner hour in the Great Hall had nearly passed, but there would be a plethora of sweets and snacks to indulge in at the party. You were eager for an evening of frivolity with your friends, as you knew your time with them was limited.

“But you’re invited to the party if you’re with me,” you said hopefully. “You can come and stay just for a bit.”

“A Slytherin celebration has detention written all over it. I was hoping you’d join me on the Astronomy Tower instead.”

Normally, you’d die before missing a single second of a Slytherin party, especially one to celebrate a quidditch cup victory. But the party was sure to continue late into the night, meaning you’d likely have time to enjoy it later.

A trip to the Astronomy Tower was much more important now, not because you gave a flying fuck about stargazing, but because you could get laid.

It’d been weeks since Andrew had touched you, and you were becoming a restless, coiled, ticking time bomb. You were an 18-year-old with wants and needs, but your stupid boyfriend had been more concerned with his N.E.W.T.s than sex as of late.

The Astronomy Tower was a common spot for romantic rendezvous, particularly for students in separate houses. You and Andrew had frequented it much more at the start of your relationship until you introduced him to the privacy of the Room of Requirement, but some nostalgia for the sake of sex was too appealing to reject.

“That sounds nice,” you said carefully, your grip giving Andrew’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Andrew said with a firm nod. “Shall we head there now?”

“Yes, please.” You allowed him to steer you from the quidditch stadium and back toward the castle. Clusters of students laughed and chattered around you, and you occasionally paused your route to the Astronomy Tower to discuss the events of the quidditch match with them.

As you stopped to say hello to Arthur Plummly, Andrew grunted in annoyance. He was clearly tired of waiting on you to finish socializing, so you merely waved to Arthur and continued to the Astronomy Wing. Perhaps Andrew was just as eager as you to relieve some year-end tension. The thought made heat rise through your body, flushing your cheeks.

The tower was quiet as most students were either celebrating Slytherin’s victory or licking their wounds in defeat. Once you reached the upper level and confirmed you and Andrew were alone, you grinned at him. You were already aching between your legs, desperate to be touched by someone other than yourself.

The air was much cooler at such a high point, the breeze drifting through the tower and its vacant telescopes. You shed your school robe and turned to Andrew to reach for his, gripping the front in earnest as you pulled him into a kiss. You kissed him hungrily as you stepped toward him, pressing your hips against his.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, craning his neck to break the kiss. You froze and rocked from your toes back down to your heels as you released his robes.

“What do you mean?” you asked stupidly. “I thought you wanted to-”

“No, not tonight, love.” His tone was gentle but you could see the irritation in his eyes. “I actually need to stargaze. I want to be sure I can identify Lyra in case it’s on the exam.”

You sucked on your top row of teeth to stop yourself from screaming in frustration.

“Can’t it wait, just a quick twenty minutes?” you asked.

“No, love. I’ve got to get this done.”

You knew there was no changing his mind, not that you wanted to at this point. The anticipation and desire you felt earlier had extinguished, now replaced by a sense of rejection.

“All right,” you sighed, stooping down to pick up your house robe. “I guess I’ll head to the party then. See you at breakfast?”

Andrew pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and smiled at you. “Goodnight, love.”

The trek down to the dungeons was cold and lonely. You weren’t used to rejection, but it had become a common occurrence from Andrew in recent weeks. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, that something had changed to make Andrew no longer lust after you. 

You hadn’t changed much physically since the start of your seventh year. If anything, certain physical attributes had improved, at least in your opinion – and the opinion of the Hogwarts male population. Your chest had filled out nicely and your curves were more evident now. If Andrew no longer found you attractive, it surely wasn’t your fault, right?

You didn’t have long to brood, though. As you neared the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, you could feel the pulse of music vibrating through the stone walls. You smirked to yourself, ready to forget about your vapid excuse for a boyfriend for the evening.

“There you are!” Sebastian spotted you instantly as you entered the Common Room.

“There you are!” you laughed as you took in his appearance. His hair was more tousled than ever and he was holding a bottle of firewhiskey in each hand. 

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded as he ushered you further into the room. “Nevermind that. Let’s get you a drink. Who has the firewhiskey?” he called out.

“Sebastian,” you snorted. “You have it.”

“Oh. Right. Well let’s get you a glass then.”

One glass quickly turned into three, and you eventually lost count by the end of the night. Students from other houses came and went, and you enjoyed the presence of your friends and classmates.

Sebastian was the life of the party, per usual. He’d periodically disrupt the music and laughter to climb on top of a study table, his glass raised in a ridiculous toast.

“To Chinese chomping cabbages!” he declared during one toast.

“To Professor Ronen’s beard!” he said during another. Each toast was followed by a roar of agreement from the crowd, no matter how absurd, which Sebastian reveled in with glee.

You laughed through it all, especially when Ominis, who had been lurking in a corner of the Common Room as an innocent bystander, was pushed toward Imelda Reyes to dance. By their third dance, you could feel Sebastian looming behind you as he watched Ominis with delight. 

“Someone ought to rescue him,” he said in your ear. “It’s not going to be me, but someone should eventually.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be enjoying himself,” you mused. “I think I’ll take a night off from saving our poor friend from social expectations.”

Sebastian snickered and sauntered off. Your eyes followed him as he stumbled toward the stairs. You followed after him, your own inebriation stalling you as you steadied yourself.

“Sebastian!” you called after him. He spun to peer down at you as he reached the top of the steps. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the dormitories. You scurried after him and watched as he slipped into his dorm room. 

“Bailing on the party?” you asked as you shoved your way through the door. You’d been in that dorm numerous times, so the sight of unmade beds, cluttered desks and piles of books didn’t faze you as you sat on the bed next to Sebastian, who had flopped backward with his arms resting lazily behind his head.

“I’m tired,” he declared, his eyes watching you carefully. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a quidditch hero.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Alice was the one who caught the snitch,” you pointed out.

“Ah, but she wouldn’t have reached it if it hadn’t been for my bludger,” Sebastian said proudly. You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you rested back on your elbows, your legs dangling off the side of the bed.

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and you studied him for a quiet moment. Your best friend was devilishly handsome. Though he maintained his boyish charm, he was certainly not the same kid you met at age fifteen. Now, Sebastian was tall and broad-shouldered, toned and sturdy, much more of a man than a boy.

“Want me to let you get some sleep?” you asked. 

“No, stay. I’m just resting my eyes. I’ll get a second wind eventually.”

“Sebastian, it’s after midnight.”

“Time is a social construct,” came his quick reply. You snorted and shifted your gaze to the remainder of the room. You spotted Ominis’ bed, the only one neatly made, its curtains drawn shut. As you found yourself wondering what else went on in this room, you failed to notice Sebastian’s stare.

“So where were you anyway?”

You turned to look at Sebastian, who had one eye open. 

“What do you mean?”

“You showed up late to the party.”

You heaved a sigh as the source of your less-than-ideal evening returned to the forefront of your mind. “I was with Andrew.”

“Ah. A quick little escapade before the party.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” you said with a bitter laugh. 

“Oh? It couldn’t have taken that long. You were late, but only by a half-hour or so.”

“Were you keeping track of time?”

“More like I was keeping track of you.”

You rolled your eyes. Sebastian, ever the protector. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you noted. “But we went up to the Astronomy Tower.”

Sebastian blinked in confusion. “But I thought you said you weren't hooking up.”

You groaned in annoyance. Though you and Sebastian were open books with one another, you didn’t feel very compelled to share the intimate details of your sex life – or lack thereof – with your best friend. Sure, you talked about sex, but the topic felt a bit more suggestive when you were alone on Sebastian's bed describing your own boyfriend's disinterest. 

But the tension you’d been carrying for weeks was mounting, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “It wasn’t anything. Andrew and I haven’t… done that in weeks.”

That had Sebastian’s attention. His other eye popped open and he sat up, not bothering to mask his curious gaze.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled slowly, averting your eyes to the dark wood floor. “Andrew hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

“And by touched, you mean…”

You whipped your body around, the sudden movement causing Sebastian to flinch as you stared directly into his eyes.

“My boyfriend. Won’t. Fuck me,” you said slowly and deliberately.

Sebastian gaped at you. It was clear he was at a loss for words, and if you hadn’t been the center of the discussion, you likely would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” Sebastian asked.

“He’s too focused on his N.E.W.T.s. He just wants to study constantly.”

“With all due respect, I’ve been pretty well focused on studying too,” Sebastian said. “But that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying myself.”

“Yeah well, that makes one of us,” you muttered.

“But you’ve… you’ve tried to- to fuck him, right?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course, I have!” you snapped, instantly horrified by your tense response. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Sebastian, however, flashed his canines in amusement. “Merlin, Larson really does have you worked into a tight little knot,” he mused.

“It’s not funny!” you groaned as you buried your face in your hands in misery.

"You’re right, it’s not,” Sebastian said, though you could still hear traces of a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you faster than you killed Solomon,” you hissed.

Sebastian barked a laugh. “I promise to tell no one,” he said. “But you really ought to take care of your… unfortunate situation. All that sexual tension is turning you rather violent.”

“Don’t you think I’d do something if I could?” 

“Well, have you, you know, taken care of it by yourself?”

“Sebastian,” you warned, warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’m just saying. I doubt you’d let anyone else assist you. Use your hands.”

“These hands are going to strangle you if you don’t shut up.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

“Sebastian!”

“Why don’t you just break up with him?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, it was just meant to be a teenage romance,” Sebastian reminded you. “But you’re an adult now. Maybe you need a more adultlike relationship with someone who’s a little more willing to satiate your adult needs.”

“Say adult one more fucking time.”

“Adult.” You threw a pillow at him and he chortled. “But seriously,” Sebastian continued. “Why are you still with him?”

“Because it’s complicated,” you sighed. “I really do care for him. I can’t break up with him just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

“Rough patch? Darling, this is a full-blown pit of Venomous Tentacula.”

“Easy for you to say, considering you’ve never had a serious relationship in your entire life,” you sneered.

Sebastian merely shrugged. “No one worth the time and effort has become available to me,” he said.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not the one refusing to fuck you because I’m fretting over some stupid exams.”

The mere notion of having sex with Sebastian made your stomach flip. He was the one boy who appeared wholly unaffected by your looks and charm, though the same could be said vice-versa. 

You hid your attraction to Sebastian well, suppressed in a secret, dark place, deeper than any repository. The only time it ever surfaced was when you were alone in bed at night, your fingers relieving yourself while your mind fantasized over the one person you couldn’t have.

“Even if I did break up with him, I’d have to start all over,” you noted. “I’d have to find someone else to get me off.”

Sebastian let out a silly laugh that almost sounded like a giggle. “Darling, please,” he deadpanned. “Like you’d have any trouble finding someone to fuck you. You could step into the Common Room right now and there’d be a line out the door.”

“You make it sound like I’m the biggest tramp to trapeze through Hogwarts,” you muttered.

“No, that award goes to Imelda.”

“Besides, I’m sure everything will return to normal soon,” you continued, hoping your tone sounded more assured than miserable. 

Sebastian eyed you quietly, which made you shift nervously on your spot on the side of the bed. The sexually charged conversation had you hot and bothered, suddenly eager to return to your own dorm room. “Hopefully, for your sake,” he finally yawned. “But Larson clearly doesn’t realize how ignorant he is. If it were me, you’d barely be able to walk anymore.”

“Sebastian!”

---

The spring air should have met your senses with peace and placidity. It was a week later and most of the Hogwarts student body was taking advantage of the weather.

Students were scattered across the castle and its outdoor areas; some lounged lazily in the courtyards while others stretched across the grass at the center of the quidditch pitch. 

You wanted to join them, but for some abhorrent reason, you were currently sitting inside the library of all places. It was hot and stuffy in there, the scent of the books and their aging pages filling your nostrils when you should have been outside enjoying the scent of the blooming flowers or the handfuls of bubblegum you’d purchased from Honeyduke’s.

But no, you were presently leaning with your elbows on one of the library’s long tables, pouting as you watched Andrew study. The two of you were nearly the only ones in the entire place, save for a few of the more recluse and antisocial students who would probably disintegrate in the sunlight anyway. 

Your gaze fell on one boy – you forgot his name – who was hours deep into a Potions book. He was thin and pale, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a vampire. The thought made you snort, which provoked a glare from Andrew.

You huffed a sigh as he returned to his reading. You studied him quietly and couldn’t help but smirk with lust.

Even though you were currently annoyed with him and his insistence on being a bookworm, he was so undoubtedly handsome. His sandy brown hair was parted to the side, his pretty green eyes darting across the lines of his Transfiguration book. His tall frame was currently hunched over the table, but when he sat back in his chair, his broad shoulders would rise and his long legs would stretch beneath the table.

Every so often, his brows would furrow as he mulled over the prose on the page, or he’d subconsciously chew at his bottom lip in an adorable way that made you want to climb him like a tree.

Watching him focus his attention on anything but you made you fidget and squirm. He still hadn’t touched you in weeks.

Of course, you understood that your Ravenclaw boyfriend was fixated on his studies. You took your education seriously, too, but you also recognized the importance of some self-care. A 20-minute study break to indulge in some sex wouldn’t kill you. Another day without it, however, just might.

You squeezed your thighs together, but the pressure only escalated the ache between them. You tried crossing and uncrossing your legs, but thoughts of something, anything, anyone between them were starting to consume you. 

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Surely you could turn on the charm and tempt Andrew now, in the dimly lit ambience of the quiet library. Most boys in the school would die to be in his shoes. How could he possibly resist you after weeks of abstaining? 

You leaned forward in your chair, your lips puffed out in a slight pout as you dipped your head just enough that you had to gaze upward at him with flirtatious eyes. You offered Andrew your best doe-eyed stare as you used the top of your foot to gently nudge his leg beneath the table.

He didn’t seem to notice at first, so you shifted in your seat to lean backward, puffing your chest out in hopes he’d be turned on by your breasts. The fabric of your blouse stretched taut over them, tightening as you stretched your shoulders. Your foot inched higher up his leg until you slowly dragged it downward again.

Still no response. It was absolutely maddening. Finally, you leaned forward again, your hand finding Andrew’s knee beneath the table. Your eyes swept the room to ensure Madam Scribner was nowhere in sight, your hand creeping up Andrew’s thigh until it met his groin. You slowly ran your palm over his crotch, hoping to stir his arousal.

Instead, he jerked his head up, the chair scraping loudly across the wood floor as he pushed backward from the table.

“What are you doing?” he hissed angrily.

You blinked in disbelief. Other boys would have finished in their own pants by now, but your own boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to even entertain your desires.

“Fine,” you said, pushing your own chair backward as you stood, your eyes narrowed at Andrew. “I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands. Or someone else’s.”

“What does that mean?” Andrew demanded. Your voices were rising and others were looking on in annoyance at the interruption.

“It means that if you aren’t going to fuck me, I’ll find someone who will,” you hissed bluntly. Andrew gaped at your lack of propriety, but you had no interest in pretending to be concerned for your image. “See you later.”

You stormed out of the library just as Madam Scribner surfaced to shush you. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, making a beeline for the nearest castle exit.

Sunlight spilled across the Hogwarts grounds and you closed your eyes to appreciate its warmth. It spread across your skin, its heat exacerbating the fire that was ripping through your insides.

You weren’t actually on the hunt for the first male who would be willing to fuck. Even at your most feral, you had a little more dignity than that. You could relieve yourself of the tension in your core in private soon enough, but right now, you simply needed to get it all off your chest. You needed Sebastian.

But where was he?

He could be anywhere on a warm Saturday like this. Sometimes he liked to fly around the Highlands. Other times, he could be found socializing in the courtyard or in search of someone to duel… The Clock Tower. He had to be there.

You made a beeline for the Clock Tower Entrance and silently celebrated the familiar sight of Sebastian embattled in a friendly duel. You leaned against the archway as you watched him make quick work of Leander Prewett, ending the duel with a well-timed Expulso that sent Leander sprawling.

“Nice work,” you quipped as the duel ended and students began to disperse from the Clock Tower.

“Nothing to it,” Sebastian said as he pocketed his wand. He eyed your appearance and frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought you retired from Crossed Wands since no one could beat you?”

“Don’t fret, I’m still retired. I was looking for you.”

“At your service, darling. What’s up?”

You glanced around the room, where Lucan Brattleby was engaged in conversation with Nerida Roberts. “Not here,” you said. “Follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You led Sebastian by the hand inside the castle, your pace so quick he had to jog to keep up with you.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as you continued past the path to the Undercroft.

“Someplace private,” you answered simply.

“But the Under-”

“Someplace even more private.”

Finally, Sebastian understood. Besides Andrew, he was the only person you’d taken to the Room of Requirement, where the two of you occasionally brewed your own potions or provided Ominis with a break from your antics. You knew curiosity was clawing away at him, and your own impatience made you hasten your steps until you were at a full run. 

Sebastian chased after you, question after question spilling from his mouth as he scrambled to keep up. It was all so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but laugh as you sprinted through the castle’s halls together until you reached the stairwell toward the Room of Requirement.

“Slow down!” Sebastian laughed as you continued up the stairs. Your legs burned by the time you reached the top, but you said nothing as you approached the Room of Requirement, its entrance making way for you per usual.

“Been a while since I’ve been in here,” Sebastian said as he gazed around the room. He followed you to the sofas tucked away in the side room, where he promptly sat down and made himself comfortable. You, however, continued to pace back and forth in front of him.

You felt like a fucking cat in heat. Your mind raced at the argument you’d just had with Andrew. Was that your breakup? You couldn’t even be sure, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Andrew didn’t chase after you when you left the library spoke volumes. And the fact that all you wanted was to dig your nails into Sebastian’s back and scream his name was probably the clearest indication that your relationship was over.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, his eyes weighted with concern as he watched you pace.

“Andrew,” was the best answer you could provide.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened with a familiarity you’d learned to recognize over the past three years. It was a clash of protectiveness and vigilance. “What did he do?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” you breathed hastily in an attempt to keep him calm. The last thing you needed was your best friend to hex your boyfriend, even if he was your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He just… we got into an argument in the library and I stormed out.”

“What were you arguing about?”

You hovered in front of a bookcase against the wall, unsure how to broach the subject. This was Sebastian, the boy who never judged you. He was your best friend and closest confidant. He had your back unconditionally and shared your darkest secrets. How could something as unprofound as sex be such a taboo topic?

“He still won’t have sex with me,” you finally blurted out. Sebastian’s eyes widened at your revelation. Sure, the two of you had just discussed it a week prior, but that was when you were both drunk, riding the high of a post-party haze. “I can’t take it anymore,” you continued. “It isn’t fair.”

Sebastian’s smirk returned and you made a silent vow to hex him into oblivion if he dared to laugh at you.

“You’re right, it isn’t fair,” he said sincerely. “Darling, please tell me you broke up with the sorry excuse of a lad.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I told him…” you huffed in embarrassment. “I told him if he wouldn’t fuck me, I’d find someone who would.”

The laughter that escaped Sebastian’s lips was borderline alarming. He hunched over and clutched his sides until he had to catch his breath.

“Merlin, you really are a horny little minx, aren’t you?” he grinned.

“It’s not funny!”

“You’re right, it’s not. Except-” he chuckled. “–Except it is rather comical to think about the hero of Hogwarts and the desire of every boy in the school stomping around and throwing a tantrum because her sad excuse of a boyfriend can’t make her come.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head from his audacity. “Sebastian!” you chided.

“Don’t get cross with me!” Sebastian said, throwing his hands up. “I would never leave you unsatisfied.”  

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils. His words seemed to cloud overhead, daring you to take the bait. He sat back smugly, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

You swallowed in preparation. For nearly three years, the two of you had danced around the obvious; the whispers of “Will they or won’t they?” and the ceaseless rumors about all the things the two of you had or hadn’t done; the sexual tension that made you both straighten in your seats every time someone else dared to suggest you were more than friends; the anguishing questions you both never asked in fear of knowing the answers.

The truth was, the root of your sexual tension had very little to do with Andrew Larson. It had damn near everything to do with Sebastian Sallow.

Graduation was approaching and you had no idea what would become of your friendship. Sebastian and Ominis were set to move to London as roommates, and you had plans to do the same with Natsai. But adulthood would be different. You and Sebastian wouldn’t be a mere common room apart. And there’d be new people, new friends, new opportunities. The ache between your thighs was far deeper than the desire to know what it’d be like to be fucked by Sebastian Sallow; it was the desperate longing for a more permanent place in his life.

“Prove it,” you finally said, feigning confidence as you dared to look him in the eye.

Finally, you had managed to catch Sebastian off guard. All of these years of teasing banter and suggestive innuendo, and you finally had him pinned against a wall of astonishment. He hadn’t expected you to give in, especially in a way that managed to challenge him.

He gaped at you, a rare deviation from his typical air of self-assuredness. Your gaze remained fixated on him, cool yet inquisitive, ready to see if he’d put his money where his mouth is.

“Wait,” he finally said. “You… you really want to?”

“Why not? You’ve always been able to help me through every other trial and tribulation. Why not this one? Unless the rumors aren’t true.” You were toeing dangerous territory, teasing him while knowing damn well he’d gladly punish you for it.

“Oh, they’re true.” He couldn’t help himself. He always rose to a challenge, and you knew he’d rise to this one. But his eyes weren’t smug or even confident. They looked concerned. “So just to be sure,” he continued slowly. “You want me to… to fuck you.”

“Yes.” It was then that you realized how your chest had been heaving with every breath, a blend of nerves and lust you weren’t sure you’d overcome if you were denied again.

And to your absolute horror, Sebastian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It knocked the wind from you, causing the room to whirl as you searched your brain for an escape. But then Sebastian looked up at you again, and the sincerity in his eyes kept you rooted to the spot.

“Look,” he said after drawing a shaky breath. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I don’t spend every bit of my free time imagining what it’d be like to feel you absolutely and utterly fall apart beneath me. I spend a shameful amount of time thinking about you in ways that would positively make you want to hex me in the same way I’ve thought about hexing Larson. But you… you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you.”

What a day it had been. You entered the Room of Requirement prepared to beg your best friend to absolutely ruin you. Instead, he was confessing his love for you.

You couldn’t help but release a shaky laugh. It wasn’t the romantic declaration you wanted to respond with, but it was the most fitting and accurate reaction to such an idiotic situation.

“You mean to tell me,” you said slowly, your voice still wavering with disbelief, “That I could have been fucking you this entire time?”

It clearly wasn’t the response Sebastian had expected, because his eyes seemed to search you for confirmation, as if he was waiting for you to laugh or reveal the scene to be some kind of twisted prank. But when you maintained your serious gaze, he grinned in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize the feeling was mutual,” he said.

“Merlin, you fucking idiot,” you hissed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, sure, because it would be that simple! I’d just waltz on up to you in the middle of dinner and tell you I’m in love with you,” Sebastian said incredulously. “Besides, you have a boyfriend anyway!” 

“I wouldn’t have that boyfriend if you’d told me! Besides, you seem perfectly pleased to fuck every other girl in the school!”

“Only because I couldn’t have the one I wanted!” The absurdity of it all made you dizzy and Sebastian sat back on the sofa looking dazed. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

You didn’t need long to decide. It had clearly been a day for bold declarations and daring acts. Why not keep the trend going? You decided you were going to get what you wanted.

“I’m going to fuck you until I’m satisfied, and then I’m going to go break up with my boyfriend for good.”

Before you could give Sebastian a chance to overthink another damn thing, you were on him, your legs straddling him as you mounted his lap and greedily grasped at his necktie. Your first kiss was a stunning reflection of the two of you – passionate and unrefined, not to mention stubborn as you both refused to be the first to pull away.

Finally, you relented, panting as you paused to gaze at Sebastian. You couldn’t help but snort at how positively elated he looked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you laughed.

“Funny, you’re the one who seems so desperate to be fucked,” he replied smoothly. It made you even hornier.

“So be a man of your word then,” you whispered. Your lips crushed against his again and you couldn’t help but rock your hips, the feeling of his erection beneath you stealing the air from your lungs. You shifted so that you could feel his hard length against your clothed entrance and it made you whimper in desperation. The heat was overwhelming.

Sebastian smirked. “You’re absolutely done for, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” You yanked at his tie for good measure, your fingers working to loosen the knot as your core remained pressed against the bulge in Sebastian’s pants. The way his breaths became ragged indicated he would be just as ruined as you by the time you left that room – if you ever left.

Sebastian’s sweater and shirt followed his tie as you addressed every stupid little button. By the time you reached the bottom, you huffed with annoyance that was short-lived once Sebastian was bare-chested beneath you. You’d seen him shirtless a handful of times, but never close enough to touch, and touch him you did.

Your palms skimmed his chest and torso as you demanded another kiss. You bit down gently on Sebastian’s bottom lip, stirring more arousal from him. Your own shirt didn’t stand a chance.

Buttons popped and sailed around you like confetti before your blouse was discarded on the marble floor. Sebastian’s eyes roamed the new view of flesh above him, but it was clearly not enough. His hands drifted to the clasp of your bra, which snapped apart with precision and joined your shirt on the floor.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian hissed as he palmed your breasts. He reveled in the way they filled his hands, soft and full. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear it.”

“I want you to show me what I’ve been missing. I want you to give me the best fucking of my life.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

His hands roamed beneath the hem of your skirt and your breath hitched as you could feel his warm palms inching up your thighs. A single thumb dared to swipe across your entrance, which had soaked your panties ages ago.

The feeling made Sebastian’s breath hiss. “How did you get so wet?”

“How did you get so dense?”

Your banter was meant to be playful, but Sebastian and all his primal instincts viewed it as a challenge. Though he had every intention of showing you pleasure beyond your darkest dreams, he wasn’t going to give in without some teasing too.

“Calling me dense when you’re clearly dying to have me,” he tutted. “You’ve been awfully bold for someone who hasn’t been fucked for so long.”

His fingers worked their way through the side of your panties and he groaned as they were instantly coated by your wetness before they could even enter you. You whimpered as he dragged two fingers across your folds. “That’s what I thought,” Sebastian teased at your pitiful response to his touch. 

He slipped a finger inside of you and you chewed your bottom lip at the sensation. You shifted forward, sending his finger deeper until you were desperate for more pressure.

“More,” you whined. Sebastian obliged. His middle finger joined his index and he used them to gently pump at your core, the base of his hand pressed against your clit. You were so damn sensitive already, you knew you’d unravel within moments.

“Like that?” Sebastian hummed. You nodded, too fixated on your aching cunt to offer a verbal response. Sebastian’s movements stopped. “I said, like that?” You whined in protest. “Fine. Guess you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

Sebastian’s fingers lingered inside you but held still, prompting you to rock against them. You lifted your hips and rocked downward, using his fingers in the way he’d hoped. 

He licked his lips at the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers, his pants strained impossibly tight over his arousal. But he waited patiently as you worked yourself over his hand, your walls clenching around his fingers to earn your release.

That tender spot of flesh inside of you pressed repeatedly against Sebastian’s fingertips, the pressure building as the sounds of your slickness exposed your sinful act. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed as could feel the climax nearing, the peak edging to the surface of your walls until they pulsed with pleasure around Sebastian’s fingers. You moaned as you rode it out, grinding downward so that his fingers dug into your sensitive spot. Sebastian grunted as you flooded his hand, the sensation making his cock twitch with desire.

When your orgasm subsided, you slumped on top of Sebastian to catch your breath. 

“Fucking hell,” he said as he examined his coated hand. “I’m never going to recover from this.”

The admission sparked renewed energy within you as you realized the two of you were just getting started. If Sebastian’s fingers could fuck you to completion, you were anxious to learn what his cock could do.

You rose begrudgingly to your feet to slip your skirt and ruined panties off, standing naked over Sebastian, whose erection looked painful inside his tented trousers, damp from your release.

“You’re a fucking vision,” he said as he studied your naked form, his arms outstretched as they rested over the back of the sofa. 

You smirked and moved for his belt. He lifted his hips so that you could remove his pants, his boxers following suit, and you had to steel yourself at the full sight of him.

He was bigger than Andrew. You wondered if it would cause the uncomfortable pain you’d felt during your first time. You liked to think you’d had enough experience to become used to it, but your body wasn’t accustomed to accommodating anyone quite so large. The challenge of it all made your core throb with more desire.

You dropped to your knees and took Sebastian into your mouth before he could even think to protest. It was better than you’d dreamed of, smooth like velvet and far too big to fit in your entire mouth – not that you wouldn’t try.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian hissed as his tip met the back of your throat. His hands balled in your hair and his eyes snapped shut. “This has to be heaven.”

“What makes you think you’re getting into heaven?” you asked, pausing to gaze upward at him with a smirk. 

“Fine. If this is hell, I reckon I’ll be just fine.”

Your mouth returned to work and the room fell quiet except for the sound of your lips sharply sucking against his shaft. It made him shudder.

A sharp tug of your hair made you gasp as Sebastian pulled you off his cock. You whined in confusion, but he smirked.

“Let’s give that pretty little mouth of yours a break, love,” he said. “You’re going to need it once you start screaming.”

“But-”

Sebastian held your face in his hands, a loving gesture that juxtaposed the filthy acts you were performing. “If you were anyone else, darling, I’d gladly allow you to continue. But if you keep at it, I’m not going to be able to satisfy you for long. And I want as much time with you as possible.”

It was a vulnerable admission, especially from someone as confident and experienced as Sebastian. The notion that you could absolutely ruin him with your mere mouth made you drunk with power.

“Now,” Sebastian continued as he reached for your hand to tug you closer. You rose to your feet and he peered up at you with a dreamy gaze. “What can we do to relieve the neglect your imbecile of a boyfriend has created?”

A hundred different possibilities flashed through your mind as all of your fantasies clashed at once. You’d spent hours daydreaming of the different ways Sebastian would wreck you – positions that defied physics, vile phrases that insulted the English language, sensations that left your brain a pile of mush. You wanted it all, yet in this moment, you were wholly content to simply feel him in any way he’d allow. And given your mutual epiphanies earlier, there’d be plenty of future opportunities for you and Sebastian to exert your sexual tension.

“First,” you said, your voice husky as you straddled him again, lowering your entrance until it hovered just above his erect cock. The heat made his breath hitch. “I’m going to use you until I come all over your cock.” Sebastian nodded obediently. “And then, you’re going to pin me down and fuck me until every painting in this room has heard your name.”

Sebastian swallowed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we’re both going to die happy, love.”

The decisive moment had arrived as you sank around Sebastian’s tip, slow and steady as the sensation of your folds gliding over his shaft made you hold your breath. Sebastian squeezed your hips in anticipation as he watched you descend far too slowly for his liking. His restraint had nearly disintegrated when you suddenly dropped downward the rest of the way in one quick and fluid motion, the tops of his thighs pressed against your ass. The sudden warmth that enveloped him made Sebastian groan.

“Unreal,” he gasped as you held still in his lap, willing your cunt to accommodate him more. You were gritting your teeth the entire time you stretched around him, exploring his size with determination. 

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered. “You’re big.”

“Oh?” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip as he smirked at you, though the rise and fall of his chest exposed his fragility. “And here I thought I’d have to measure up to that boyfriend of yours. Guess I easily fill his shoes.”

“And then some,” you moaned. You hadn’t even moved, but the mere feeling of Sebastian filling you entirely was enough to make your cunt threaten to contract. You dared to shift in his lap, leaning in closer to him. He sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can see why you were wound so tight now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good thing I have you to help me unwind then.” You lifted your hips until your cunt glided upward, hovering around Sebastian’s tip until you dipped downward again. The look on Sebastian’s face was almost as satisfying as the pressure that swelled inside of you. 

His hands roamed to your breasts, cupping one in each hand as a thumb gently stroked each nipple. “I want to play with these while you come undone,” he said.

You picked up your pace, using the head of Sebastian’s cock to ignite friction against the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Soon, the sounds of your ass smacking against Sebastian’s thighs coursed through the room as you rose and slammed yourself downward repeatedly.

Sebastian was fighting sensory overload; the erotic sounds of your skin connecting, the sight of your breasts bouncing with every movement, the salty taste of your sweaty skin when he kissed your neck. It was too much, yet not nearly enough.

“M’close,” you moaned as you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut as you willed your body to comply. Sebastian’s eyes drifted downward to the place where you were connected. If his cock disappearing into your cunt was the last thing he saw before he died, he’d go willingly.

His thumb pressed against your clit, forcing your eyes to snap open in surprise. “Oh fuck,” you wailed. Your bottom lip was raw and red from the way you were chewing on it, desperate to release the tension coiled inside of you. A few more swipes of Sebastian’s thumb triggered it, your shriek echoing across the stone walls as you rocked forward, holding your hips downward in place as your walls clenched and shuddered around Sebastian’s cock.

Your breaths became short, pitchy gasps as you recovered, your body thoroughly exhausted as you clutched Sebastian’s shoulders for support. He sat with his head tilted backward against the back of the sofa, his eyes clamped shut from bracing himself through your orgasm. His lap now held a puddle of your release and he didn’t bother to hide his arousal from the vulgarity of it all. 

Once you caught your breath enough to speak, you uttered a faint laugh. “I really hope this isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from,” you said. 

“I don’t know,” Sebastian mused, his hands rubbing gentle circles over the tops of your thighs as he gazed at you with fondness. “Personally, I’d stay and live in this dream forever if I could.”

He placed a featherlight kiss on your eyelashes and for a moment, you nearly forgot that you were currently wrapped around his twitching cock. But as Sebastian shifted uncomfortably beneath you, the pressure returned to your core.

“Now,” he said, his hands placed flat against the small of your back. “Let’s make sure you never think about that useless boyfriend ever again.”

He rose, lifting you from the sofa as you wrapped your legs around him for support. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his way of making it clear he was strong enough to hold you in such a position for future engagements. Once he placed you gently on your back, he crawled between your legs, resting back on his heels as he studied your form.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he gripped his own cock. 

“Show me.”

He was on top of you instantly, one hand supporting his weight while the other guided his cock back to your entrance. He sank inside you again and groaned at the return of your warmth. No one else would ever compare to it and Sebastian was sure he wouldn’t want them anyway. Not when he now knew how it felt to have you entirely.

“One more time for me, love,” he said with a thrust of his hips. “You look positively stunning when you come.” You tightened your legs around him to signal your insatiable hunger. 

“Harder,” you ordered. Sebastian would have been a fool to defy you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you earn it. 

His hand snapped to your wrists, pinning them above your head as he bucked his hips for emphasis. The motion rippled through your body, forcing a moan from your throat. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“With feeling.”

“Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” He pulled his cock out so that only the tip remained against your cunt, swiping it over your clit as he licked his lips at the moisture that clung to it. “So fucking wet for me, too.”

Before you could protest, he dipped his head between your legs to drag his tongue over your raw entrance. It plunged inside your folds and trailed to your clit, where Sebastian’s mouth gently sucked until you kicked your feet from the overwhelming sensitivity. 

He slowly crawled back to meet your face, planting a swift kiss on your lips. 

“I’m going to love you forever, you know that?”

“I do now,” you breathed. “And the feeling’s mutual. Now shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian pushed his cock back inside you with less restraint this time. It drove deep within your walls in repeated jabs, the sound of your bodies clapping together with each thrust. 

The moans that fell from your lips sounded more like a howl as you clenched yourself around Sebastian’s cock in a frantic attempt to draw one more orgasm from it. He held a palm against your chest, pressing you downward into the sofa cushions as he rocked hard against you. 

Andrew had never fucked you this hard and you knew you’d never recover from it. There was no returning from a frenzied fucking like this, especially when the only person you’d ever loved was responsible for it.

You cried Sebastian’s name as his cock pounded your cunt, fervidly coaxing your walls to release. You could feel them begin to spasm as they gripped Sebastian’s hard shaft until they finally convulsed, the pleasure eliciting a guttural cry from you. Your entire body responded this time, your back arching and legs quaking as the orgasm rippled through you until you were left squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to prolong its final flutters.

You were absolutely fucked out beyond ruin, and Sebastian’s reward surfaced quickly. The sight of you so drained, so satiated by your undoing, confirmed that he was entirely lost in you. He was yours now and he’d be damned if Andrew Larson or any other brainless oaf tried to claim you ever again.

“Fucking hell,” he choked as he continued to rail his cock inside your tired cunt. “Ready to be mine?”

You nodded, still aroused by the anticipation of Sebastian finishing inside of you. Another moan escaped your lips and Sebastian grunted, forcing his cock hard into you as he spurted his release. It painted your insides with warmth, signaling the end of your romp, Sebastian’s labored breaths marking the final moments of his climax. 

Your eyelids were heavy as you became hyperaware of just how worn out your body was, but all of the tension you’d carried for the past few weeks was gone. You were relaxed now. Sebastian had certainly delivered on his promise.

When you let your eyes drift open again, you realized he was still above you, gazing at you with renewed affection.

“All right?” he asked. You offered him the prettiest smile you could manage.

“What do you think?”

“I think you ought to go break up with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Sebastian, you’re literally still inside me. Do you really think I’m concerned with anyone else right now?”

“Oh. Too right, you are.” He was lingering, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he wanted to prolong the moment. Whatever the reason, you were in no rush to part from him. He seemed to be studying you, and you recognized the familiar tells that he was deep in thought, like his furrowed eyebrows and slight pout.

“Anything you care to share with the class?” you murmured. 

“It’s just that… I mean, you and I-” Sebastian struggled for the right words. “This wasn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“I fucking hope not.”

“Good. Because you’ve absolutely ruined me for life.” 

Finally, he drew backward and straightened, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Your eyes fell to your crumpled shirt on the floor and you heaved a sigh. The buttons were gone, the threads that held them shredded and torn beyond Reparo.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” you whined as you held the shirt up to show Sebastian the results of his impatience. He looked far too smug for your liking.

“Guess you’ll just have to wear mine,” he said with a shrug. He bent down to pick up his sweater and tossed it to you. “Too hot for me to be wearing this anyway.” You slipped it over your head, its large sleeves swallowing your arms, the initials “S.S.” embroidered in green over your left breast. It smelled like him – warm and woodsy. Though it was far too big for you, you decided you’d never give it back.

“I look ridiculous,” you huffed. Sebastian, however, beamed at you with pride.

“You look fucking sinful,” he declared, his grin revealing his glee.

Once you were both clothed, albeit visibly disheveled, you slipped from the Room of Requirement and descended the staircase.

“Hungry?” you asked Sebastian as you reached the lower level of the Astronomy Wing. He nodded but you frowned as he veered in the direction opposite the Great Hall. “Where are you going?” you asked as you clung to his arm.

Sebastian glanced sideways at you and smirked, taking in the sight of you in his oversized sweater, his initials marking his new territory. 

“I believe we need to make a stop in the library first.”

[iwillmissourtalks]

SEARCHING AO3: A (SLIGHTLY) MORE ADVANCED GUIDE

Disclaimer: This is very very geared towards finding fics about a particular character rather than a pairing. My favourite guys tend to be popular-ish women that appear in a lot of fics but only as supporting characters so I’ve had to become v good at combing for things that actually centre them <3

For this guide we’re gonna use my current hyperfixation: Mel Medarda & see what we can find lol

1. Use the tag filter system as your default! It’s superior in every way to the normal search except for the “any field” section which can be pretty useful but unless you’re using it for SPECIFICALLY THAT, don’t bother.

You can access the tag filter by clicking on any common tag (we’re gonna use “Mel Medarda”) and then hitting filters.

This thing is SO useful! Poke about in the dropdown menus; each of them will have the top 10 associated tags for that category. For example the top additional tags for Mel are Angst; Slow Burn and Fluff because,,, well. yk

+ it shows the number of fics with those tags under the “main” tag of Mel Medarda!

2. Keep an eye out for character specific tags! Now that we’re definitely using the tag filtering system we can start actually filtering through those tags <3

Most characters will have common but specific tags that both name them and imply something about their arc in the fic. A frequent example is something like “X character needs a hug”, or more obviously: “X character centric”.

These are my go-to tags for Mel! Most characters will have a variation of this set + some others (“BAMF character name” is also a pretty common one in older fandoms) and any one of these (INDIVIDUALLY, at most filtered in sets of 2) will lead to a few hundred results. It’s not 100% flawless because a lot of authors over-tag, but a solid 80% of the fics under these tags will at least heavily feature the character you’re looking for.

3. Filter by summary!!

At the bottom of the tag filters there’s a section called search within results. This is your Best Friend.

summary: “_”

^ for easy copy/paste

What this script will do is search for whatever you put in the quotation marks and then only give you fics with that thing in the description. I like to use it for character names but it also does a pretty good job filtering for tropes — try using it for vampires lol

Doing this with Mel narrows down her character tag from 7000+ to just under one and a half thousand fics, all of which at the very least include her name in the description.

4. RAREPAIRS ARE YOUR FRIEND! Canon but only semi-popular ships are infinitely more likely to get tagged in the background than say, for example — melvik (nobody is writing background melvik). This tip only works if you’re willing to multiship for more content of your guy but it is very effective.

5. Related to tip 4: Search by otp! If you’re locked in on a particular pairing that’s more popular, you can search for fics that ONLY include that ship.

otp:true

^ for easy copy/paste (again)

This is super useful and also the main reason I don’t tag side pairings in my own fics! Also remember to use this script with ship tag rather than just a character one — otherwise it won’t work.

6. Parent tags exist! This is less of a strategy and requires more trail & error, but lots of tags filter into each other. For another Mel-related example, filtering by the Only Meljay tag would also being up fics tagged with Jayce/Mel Medarda-centric — despite (potentially) not having the original tag you filtered by. This is because Jayce/Mel Medarda-centric is the Parent of the original tag, meaning ao3 has deemed the two tags related enough to appear in each other’s search results.

This is something done manually by ao3 staff so the consistency of parent tags are a little weird sometimes.

More practically, this is an interaction to keep in mind when blocking tags. If for example you were to exclude “Torture” from your search, ao3 would also automatically exclude —

Implied/Referenced Torture

Physiological Torture

Aftermath of Torture

And probably many more.

Even if the broad category of torture isn’t tagged in a fic, the specific referenced type of torture counts — to ao3 — as a tag of torture by itself.

Interestingly, the “sub-categories” of tag don’t feed into each other this way. You can block Physiological Torture and still see fics tagged with Implied/Referenced Torture or Aftermath of Torture.

Knowing this is useful in the sense that the more specific you get with a blocked tag, the less likely you are to accidentally filter out something you would actually be fine with (or inversely blocking a general category you HATE means you don’t have to obsessively filter out every possible iteration of that thing you don’t like).

You can tell tag is a Parent Category by searching for a Sub Category and blocking what you think is the Parent. This will result in 0 results.

Implied/Referenced Torture tag after blocking the Torture tag.

Each of these strategies are things to be done in waves or in combination with one another. Casting a wide net and then narrowing it down is really important, too many tags and you end up with no results.

Ao3 has an INCREDIBLY robust set of archival tools. It’s an amazing site and if a fic exists and you know what you’re doing, you should always be able to find it.

Happy reading <3

[takes1]

NEEDDD AN OIKAWA X SHY READER, she’s extremely quiet until they do certain things and Oikawa is definitely dominant top sooo 🤭maybe it’s like their first time doing it and Oikawa does something (cokes her throat idk) to trigger her loudness and Oikawa being Oikawa he’s gonna be trying anything to get her to be more loud while teasing her

oikawa making quiet!reader scream

tbh i found it difficult to write him as a top, i just love me some whiny loser oikawa. but! it was fun exploring something different so <3 hope it's alright! i also totally took the quiet thing and ran with it

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. sub!reader / dom!oikawa / established relationship / mute?reader / kissy sex / side sex / safe sex / f!rec oral / oikawa has a praise thing / quiet!reader / use of ASL / petnames / light!choking / big focus on sound+speech in this one / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

He was so pretty between your legs.

A new heat crept up your neck and spread across your face, ear-to-ear. You had to look away, you couldn't handle his intensity- not here, with no clothes, undone and needy under him.

The firm grip on your leg reset you. He draped your thighs over his strong shoulders, exactly where he'd been wanting them for months. Now he just needed you to watch.

"Eyes on me, baby," Oikawa dipped his head back for just a moment to press a kiss against your pretty sex, a perfect grin plastered across his face.

Your muscles twitched around his chiselled features- you couldn't get over just how stunning he was in the dim, warm light of his bedroom.

You blinked away the welling from your eyes, a short whine in your throat at the fluttery feeling his confident tongue gave you.

He touched you, ate you, like he'd been considering exactly how for a while.

His tongue was soft and light as he figured you out- searching for what you could handle, pushing and prodding where you wanted. Soon you were twitching, shaking, and having to be kept still in his grasp.

"M-mn-," Your sounds were small, cute; he smiled against you every time he got to hear it.

Most of what he heard was labored gasps, sighs, and cute little moans he'd imagined many times before.

In truth, you had to stop him early because you couldn't take very much of his mouth-- it was getting you too worked up, too quickly.

He rose, strong chin dripping with clear and some animalistic intensity in his lidded eyes.

But he knew making you squirm would only get him so far.

His sweet kisses, trailed with intention and delicacy all the way up your body made you giggle.

When he cuddled up to your side, he didn't waste any time guiding your body how he wanted. His bottom arm wrapped around you from underneath a pillow, his top arm free to squeeze at the flesh of your hip while he took you in a rough and rushed kiss.

This position was so comfy- you smiled up at him and stretched your arms to look at the two of your bodies, how they'd intertwine, and bit your lip.

"You gonna be okay?"

He looked past your eyes, deep into the swimming thoughts in your head about your first time together. It was like he could watch you think in real time.

There was no reason to sign anything but 'Yes'-- he took your hand and pressed a raunchy kiss against the back of it. If that was to hide how excited he was, it didn't work.

A second of distance gave you the chance to push on his chest. He glanced around your face, troubled for a second-- he found nothing but lustful wonder in your eyes.

His bouncy chest dipped into a cascade of perfect, taut lines across his tummy. You brushed your knuckles, curious, over each of his abs and thumbed the dip of his abdomen to his pelvis. You dodged another kiss.

"See something you like, princess?" Was in a mutter, brushing your temple.

Oikawa often got to ride a line of teasing you and requesting the praise he so badly needed. You smirked and pressed a peck to his sharp jawline.

"You wanna--ah-," He faltered, softened- twitchy and breathy, when you took his pretty cock in your hand, "Tell... me-,"

You shushed him. He didn't try to keep teasing you like that- plus, you were sure he didn't mean to come across as so cute and whiny.

Although you had both been with other people, those experiences left something to be desired. He knew that you, especially, needed a good time tonight. There wasn't a single moment that he hadn't been careful about.

He replaced your hand with his and slid himself over your sex, filling the space between your legs, getting himself coated in your sticky warmth. He watched your chest rise with a pleased gasp and grinned.

It was just what you needed. You squeezed your inner thighs as the friction built -or faded depending on how you framed it- your labored sighs quickly grew between needy kisses.

Your tummy was in knots at the feeling of his restrained groans on your mouth.

He parted for only a moment to snatch a condom from the dresser and tear it open with his teeth. You didn't realize how much you didn't care until he did so- but were grateful he made it easy.

He lined himself up and your panting stilled at the new pressure.

Oikawa busied you with a fervent kiss as soon as he felt you tense. It wasn't a cure, but it did remedy what would've been pain. The thought behind it was what really did it for you.

"I know it's not th'same," He muttered, a little slurred, "But fuck- you feel so good."

Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his admission. You rolled your head back into the crook of his shoulder with a shrinking giggle.

He was easier to take, after that.

Oikawa had become an expert on how pick up your small noises, especially in overwhelming spaces. It was almost like he crafted a special device in his brain to detect you. That's why your love was so special; he made space for you when nobody else did. He tried harder than anyone else to hear you. He cared to try.

Tiny, desperate moans on your breath brushed by his ear- he groaned at the sensation and filled his palm with your soft thigh.

It was good thing, too-- your legs were getting far too heavy, you were grateful that he could hold them in place for you.

"H-ahh, mmm-!" You clipped your own sound short with a gasp.

He was quick to catch it, "That feel good, baby?"

Your thigh was squished further up, nestled between his bicep and his forearm- you watched, eyes clouded and glossy.

His veiny hand filled with your flesh, coupled with how good he filled you up, brought another whine forward.

He swallowed a huffy moan, unable to keep himself from provocation. "Yeah?"

That second bottom hand wrapped around your throat to help guide you for that kiss he wanted. But, you found it impossible to return his hungry prodding with the new buzzing that started to grow in your head.

Your body twitched under him, a cascade of mumble-y 'uh-huh's and 'mm-hm's spilling onto his lips.

It made him chuckle. His eyes began to wander to your chest- as did his hand.

However, you found yourself quickly pushing it back, warm and strong on your skin.

Oikawa couldn't have looked more amused, nor any more proud to indulge you. The sensation was leagues better now that he had an awareness over what it did for you.

"Mmmn-! Mm-!" You threaded your fingers through his soft locks while he squeezed and fucked you harder, completely engrossed by how badly you needed him.

Though this orientation was nice for kissing and cuddling and the start of it all, he was slowly pushing you onto your stomach.

Instead of wasting any time to talk about it, you pushed back on his hip.

He let you go at once, confused for a moment, but blindly followed with a breathy laugh when you rolled onto your tummy and pushed your chest onto the mattress.

Oikawa looked down at you from behind, hands squeezing at your hips.

You were face-down on his pillow, your thighs spread and ass arched up, dripping onto his sheets, patient and yearning for him to fill you up again.

Oh, he couldn't do that without finishing early. Not unless he fucked you with his eyes closed. He swallowed a chuckle and settled over you, trapping your wrists above your head with one hand while he stretched you back out.

It didn't take longer than a few seconds to realize just how strong, how heavy he was, when you tried to adjust your arms closer. There was no moving out of this.

The shock made way for surprise at how quickly this made the tension in your tummy grow- you fisted the sheets, squeezing at how his size hit you from a more intense position.

He placed his other hand back around your neck and you were so grateful he didn't try to make you wait for it.

Although he wasn't as rough as he was right before you switched, you didn't necessarily need it to be. It gave you an opportunity to adjust. It was so slick, the pressure just right.

And you couldn't keep your whines down- with his face right next to yours, he was getting an earful of it all.

"Good girl, f-uck," His groan morphed into a half-laugh, half-whine that clipped his words. It took an equally perceptive person to find the vulnerability and rawness to his praise.

He looked almost angry- his focus was so intense it twisted his muscles up tight.

"Ah!" You squeaked, panting at the sweetness and devotion in his voice.

"Yeaahh, A-augh-Mmn, that's fuckin' ri-ght," His words wavered with a stutter pressed firm against your hair. It really did it for him that you enjoyed his pet names. He loved spoiling you like that, because you deserved it.

He was swelling up inside you, harder, much like his strokes that kept hitting you just right. His closed-mouth groans told you he would cum if only you begged him to.

"M-m-Aah!" A sharp, shuddery whine evaded his hand.

He seethed with a groan and stalled, filling your cunt to the base. Your sounds were breaking down the wall he'd built up in his head so he could balance himself on a dangerous edge.

It didn't really help. His stilled hips, driven deeper than he let it before, only made you want him more. You wiggled against the weight of his body to try and get something, but he gripped you tighter.

"Shhhh," He bit the shell of your ear, baited breath as he locked you in this mean, motionless torture.

His body was too solid for you to move- you could only bite the sheets and wince at your delayed gratification. And fuck, was it worth it.

Rough, calloused fingers readjusted around your neck. His whisper was laden and filthy against your ear as he started to turn you out again:

"Let me hear that pretty voice," He barely got it out- he was seething, completely taken with your tight pussy clenching around him.

He was deeper, rougher, but you could take it.

A sting was at your eyes, forcing them shut, from the staggering waves of pleasure he fucked into you. You completely surrendered all resignation about your volume in moments.

"A-ah-h!-!"

Your whole body seized but it did nothing-- he held you so steady through it. You were cumming before you realized what was happening. It spurred a gasp that yielded to a long, drawn-out orgasm.

An unrestrained cry fell from your lips at its peak. It left your ears ringing and gave your partner the proud satisfaction of getting to finish after you.

It left you dizzy, dumb, and forgetful until he was back at your side, pulling you close to his chest and massaging your scalp. You pressed your body close to his as he pulled the sheets over you.

You tried clearing your throat but found it raw and a little painful. You didn't realize he was talking to you until he started rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

He watched your face work as you craned around to look at him and decided to snuggle facing towards his chest. You could feel him chuckling at your familiar, endearing silence.

taglist.

@yuchacco

@integers

requests: OPEN

my masterlist