#female persuasive authority

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Headed Off At The Exit POV

“Going somewhere, sir?” the blonde flight attendant asked with an amused smile. I paused, uncertain how to reply. “I think you may have placed three watches, a bottle of whisky and at least one crystal champagne glass in your bag.” she beamed at me. My jaw dropped. I had deliberately been the last to disembark, and now here she was - heading me off at the pass! How did this young woman know? And so accurately? The stewardess seemed even more amused at my confusion. With a wind blown swish of her ponytail, swept joyously back over shoulder, accompanied by a matching, but very different and static, swish-swish as her pantyhosed legs brushed together, the stewardess walked towards me.

“CCTV is everywhere, sir!” she laughed happily. “I will need to to search your bag just to confirm, but please turn around now, go back into the aisle and then accompany me to the rear of the plane, bringing your bag with you.” I looked at her, utterly bemused. “But why, miss?” I asked plaintively. She sighed. “I will need to tie your hands behind your back before I start my search - just as a precaution, you understand…” the woman explained patiently and loosened her green uniform neckscarf meaningfully. “We normally do that sort of thing in an area that’s little less public.” I nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by her persuasive authority, demoralised at having been trapped so easily, and quite unable to talk my way out of it. “Whatever you say, ma’am…” I replied weakly and turned sadly around, feeling a slight but firm female hand in the small of my back as she followed behind me, urging me forward into what promised to be a humiliating captivity.

Source: Pinterest

[adgp35]

Tables Turned

Skilled sixth form Head Girl Kathy Lee, had not panicked when seized by her disheveled and desperate Science teacher, Mr Lyons, as a hostage when she finally confronted him with evidence of his fraudulent activities at Newsome Academy. Bundled into the back of his car, Kathy kept up a constant flow of conversation - curious, cajoling, bemused, assertive - to try to get the panic-struck teacher to turn around, return to the school and give himself up. Mr Lyons however kept driving, deep into the outback, until at last the vehicle stuttered to a halt, completely out of fuel. At that point, Lyons burst into tears. Kathy, filled with sympathy, persuaded the broken and sobbing man to get out of his car and recognise his madcap kidnapping antic was over. He continued to sniffle his apologies as the sixth former retrieved a coil of rope from the trunk of his car and used it to tie her teacher’s hands behind his back, loosely but securely. “We will have to walk back to the college, sir, she told her ashamed-looking prisoner, “unless we are lucky enough to meet someone on the way willing to give us a lift. We had better set off - it’s a long way.” Lyons nodded despondently and fell in step behind the girl, stumbling slightly on the rough ground as he followed his 17-year old female captor towards the highway.

Sources: Pinterest and dreamstime

[queer-ragnelle]

I know calling books “feminist” is a marketing ploy and not necessarily a reflection of the author’s intentions, particularly when applied to mythological retellings, but honest to god every book should be feminist automatically. Respecting women (on a subtextual level, at the minimum) is a given.

Considering a woman’s agency is in no way additional work and shouldn’t be unique in any way. This is especially important if the character is a minority of any variety—woc, disabled, trans, attracted to women, etc. It’s about dignity. Anything less than the utmost care is misogynistic.

If the women you write exist solely to tag #girlboss or #sapphic for sales, you have a problem. Reducing or even removing the male element doesn’t magically make you feminist. If you think the patriarchy is just the existence of men then you’re not a feminist you’re an idiot. Take a step back, stop writing, and read a multitude of fiction and nonfiction exclusively written by women. From all eras and parts of the world and genres, not just the current NYT bestseller list or current BookTok trend. Get some perspective before you come back or don’t come back at all.

[cupofteajones]

Jane Austen, Dramatized Recording Now Online

Jane Austen, Dramatized Recording Now Online

If you want something to do to close out this saddest day for beloved Janeites, let me put a little pep in your step. If you could not attend the last week’s event, Jane Austen, Dramatized, I have good news! The talk is now available to watch online! Click on the Zoom link below, register and type in the password, and you are on your way for an exciting conversation full of insight and laughs…

[undertheorangetree]

Conquerors Reborn

Summary- Helaena has a plan to ensure her favourite lady-in-waiting remains at court.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Threesome. Overthinking. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Handjob. P in V sex. Loss of virginity. Targcest. Praise kink. Titty sucking.

Author’s Note- debatably the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written besties and it’s suffered a handful of rewrites. Link to the full story belowwww

dividers by firefly-graphics

"I know something you don't know," a familiar voice sings.

She looks up from her needlepoint just as Helaena collapses beside her, her skirts spreading out like a large pink puddle in the grass. She adjusts her own to make room for her, waits as Helaena shuffles closer and rests a hand on her leg in greeting while she sets her needlework aside.

"I imagine you know many things I do not."

Immediately, Helaena shakes her head. "Not about court. I know something you do not about court."

She smiles at the excitement in the princess's voice. "Will you tell me then?"

"Mother has decided it is time for Aemond to marry. They're going to start searching for a wife immediately."

She feels herself tilt her head, brows drawn. That is not the news she had been expecting Helaena to relay, especially when it has not been so long since she and Aegon had been wed. That had been a grand affair- though smaller than Princess Rhaenyra's wedding had been to the late Prince Laenor, she heard- and she had overheard the maester of coin complaining of the expense during the festivities. She had not thought another royal wedding to be on the horizon for quite some time.

Despite the shock, she tries not to let it show lest she ruin Helaena's good mood. "Are they? I imagine you'll be receiving a rather large influx of invitations in the coming days then. That and plenty of new friends vying for your attention."

It is common knowledge that the prince favours his sister over his brother. Should someone wish to earn the prince's favour, it would be easily won by spending time with the princess, showing interest in the things she enjoys and having her present the idea of a betrothal to the prince. He would be hard pressed to deny her when he so enjoys making her happy, something she has been witness to more than once.

What is not so well known is the intimate relationship Helaena shares with him, of the fact that she lays with him as often as she does her. Aegon has always taken to warming the bed of every servant, whore, and noble lady who would have him and it had been agreed early into their betrothal that Helaena could bed whomever she wanted so long as it didn't threaten the legitimacy of any children. Becoming Helaena's lover had been an easy choice for her but she had never asked for details concerning her nights with Aemond.

Helaena purses her lips, reaching up to take her hand. "I do not want new friends. I have you, that is all I need."

They are much more than simply friends but she does not bother to contradict her. If she looks closely enough, she can still see the edge of the bruise her mouth left behind on Helaena's breast, just peeking over the edge of her bodice. The sight of it brings a small grin to her face and she squeezes Helaena’s hand comfortingly.

"You are all I ever needed."

Read the rest here

[kingofbodyrolls]

Last Night in Magic Shop | pjm

Summary: You find yourself down at the local club, Magic Shop, because your best friend feels like your lovelife is dry as ice. You did not plan on meeting a handsome stranger, who moves his body like an angel, but speaks like the devil. Feeling like he might match your nasty needs, you take him home, enjoying an unforgettable night filled with pleasure.

Pairing: jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”)

Genre + AUs: strangers to lovers, one night stand, vampire!au, smut (pwp), and a little sprinkle of angst and fluff (it’s very short and minor)

Word Count: 12.5k

Rating: mature / +18

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings: explicit smut, exhibitionism + semi public sex (they are in a car and kinda get caught and they stop), kissing, grinding, thighs (yes it’s a warning), a harness (as fashion, yes, also a warning), choking, dirty talk, power play (it’s very dynamic but they are both trying to be more dominant, lol), dom/sub undertones, pleasing kink, oral (female and male receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, biting, mentions of blood (it’s brief at the end), rough sex, but also very intimate, breast and nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, spitting— in general this one is very dirty, flirty and rough! 

Author’s note: hi!!!! This is my gift to all you lovely people that follow me, and also to everyone else too! 💜 I really want to thank you, for following me, for reading my stories, for following my recs and library and helping me to show love to all the other authors on this platform that way 🫶 Thank you, truly. This is my gift to you— for my 1k follower milestone 🥳 It actually happened some time ago, I was still writing my long series at the time, so I didn’t really have time to celebrate it, but I really wanted to, so here I am bearing a gift! It’s another filthy one, and I have so much fun writing these, because this isn’t what I normally write (I’m more the fluffy and smutty, a lot of detail and words type of gal). I appreciate you all so much, and to those few people who really interact with me by commenting, messaging me, and just being there— thank you, you are incredible and I love you so much 🥹 Thank you, I hope you enjoy this one 💜 

Author’s note(2): this is pure utter filth yet again. I didn’t proofread this (I might do it later and find my stupid mistakes), but right now, I’m not in the mood. I hope it isn’t horrible, I’m feeling like that myself, but I really tried to make it extra filthy (more so than what I usually write). I do still hope that you enjoy and like it 🌸

Do you prefer to read on AO3? Well, it's posted there too!

Despite your usual aversion to clubbing—the cacophony of deafening music, the stifling heat enveloping you, your skimpy outfit clinging to your skin like a second layer—somehow, you find yourself succumbing to the relentless persuasion of your best friend, Hana, who insists on dragging you down to the pulsating heart of the local club scene, Magic Shop. Why you’re willingly diving into this chaotic abyss, well, that’s a fucking mystery even to you.

As Hana navigates the bustling bar to order drinks, you scan the crowded expanse for a spot to settle, but every booth seems occupied in this sea of bodies pulsating to the throb of the music. Amidst the frenzy, your gaze drifts inevitably to the dance floor, where a blonde haired man commands attention with his effortless grace, his movements a symphony of fluidity and raw sensuality. Mesmerized, you can’t tear your eyes away, tracing the contours of his physique, the chiseled jawline, the tantalizing glimpse of collarbones beneath his unbuttoned shirt. The way that he moves his hips, undulating and assaulting the air like he’s making love to it, sends dangerous spikes of arousal through your body. And then, your breath catches as you notice the daring accessory adorning his torso—a leather harness, snugly embracing his waist wrapped around him twice and being collected at his shoulders, with a tantalizing hint of danger, leaving you spellbound and inexplicably captivated.

No. That couldn’t possibly be your saliva glistening on the floor, could it?

“Have you found a place to sit?” Hana’s voice interrupts your trance, but as you remain transfixed, she tracks your gaze to the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor, drawing an eclectic crowd like moths to a flame. With a knowing chuckle, she realizes the source of your fixation.

“Ah... Jimin has caught your eye,” she chuckles, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips as she wets them with the tip of her tongue. With a playful wink, she acknowledges your attraction before swiftly scanning the room for the elusive empty booth you had overlooked.

She drags you along with your drinks to an unoccupied booth, the crimson leather beckoning like a siren’s call. You both sink into the plush seats, but your attention remains tethered to Jimin, captivated by his every fluid motion.

You’re spellbound, utterly captivated by the mesmerizing display unfolding before you. How does someone possess such mastery over their own body? With each twist and turn, Jimin exudes a level of control that borders on otherworldly, his slender frame clad in skin-tight leather pants that leave little to the imagination. His thighs, robust and powerful, evoke a primal longing within you, God, what you’d do to be crushed by those.

The sound of something snapping jolts you from your trance, and you instinctively tear your gaze away from Jimin, heat flooding your cheeks and ears as you turn towards your best friend. Your heart pounds, caught between embarrassment and exhilaration, as her fingers snap, commanding your attention back to her, a silent reminder of the real world beyond your intoxicating reverie.

“You’ve got it bad for him,” she smirks, teasing and taunting in equal measure as she swirls her straw through her drink, a wicked gleam dancing in her eyes before her lips playfully encircles the straw, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

“No, I don't,” you declare, the lie hanging heavy in the air, though you’re well aware she sees right through you. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, betraying your denial, while your gaze remains ensnared by the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor. With each pulse of the music, your heart threatens to break free from your chest, pounding an erratic rhythm of desire and apprehension.

“You and every other soul in Magic Shop,” she bursts out laughing, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she brings her drink to her lips once more, the ice clinking against the glass in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the music.

Your brows knit together in a mix of frustration and discomfort. She’s keenly aware of how long it’s been since you’ve let loose, both on the dance floor and in the bedroom. She knows the ache of longing that's settled deep within you, a silent companion during those lonely nights. And perhaps that’s why she’s orchestrated this night out, dragging you to this chaotic den of temptation, her intentions as transparent as glass: she wants you to indulge, to find release in the arms of another.

Yet, despite Hana’s persistent nudges towards potential romantic connections, you harbor little optimism for any amorous encounters tonight beyond enjoying the company of your friend. It’s not that you hold rigid standards, per se, but after navigating through numerous relationships and even dalliances with one-night stands, you’ve come to a firm conclusion: you don’t crave love, nor do you feel a pressing need for a man in your life. However, Hana sees it differently; she views your reluctance to dive back into the dating pool as a lamentable missed opportunity for some good dick, hence her relentless efforts to nudge you towards potential romantic escapades.

None of your past relationships have managed to captivate you for long; they’ve all fallen short of taming your restless spirit or fulfilling your insatiable hunger. None have been able to meet you on equal footing, to sate the voracious appetite that burns within you.

But as you watch Jimin, something shifts within you, challenging your steadfast stance on one-night stands. Holy fuck, the man’s dancing is nothing short of mesmerizing, and if you claimed you weren’t already feeling a surge of arousal just from laying eyes on him, well, that would be a blatant lie.

He might just possess the rare ability to match your intensity, your insatiable hunger for connection. He exudes an aura of irresistibility that both entices and intimidates you, knowing full well he could be too much to handle. But you revel in the thrill of the chase too much to resist the temptation of a potentially unforgettable encounter.

You find yourself unable to shake the thought: does the way he moves on the dance floor hint at his prowess between the sheets? Those hips, snapping and thrusting with such abandon, leave little to the imagination, igniting fantasies of what they could do in a more intimate setting. If only it weren’t just the air he was thrusting into…

Fuck.

A shiver of apprehension snakes down your spine as you witness the crowd parting, creating a path directly towards you. Dread coils in the pit of your stomach as you realize the magnetic force drawing him closer is aimed squarely in your direction.

His gaze, as dark as the depths of the club’s chaos, pierces through the tumult, locking onto you with a laser-like intensity. In those obsidian orbs, a potent mixture of desire, confidence, and a hint of something dangerous dances. A quick flick of his tongue over his lips sends a jolt of electricity through the air, so fleeting you almost doubt you saw it, yet you can’t shake the image of something glinting, sharp, nestled between his teeth.

Your pulse races even faster, a frantic rhythm matching the pounding bass of the music, as Hana’s kick under the table barely registers amidst the magnetic pull of Jimin’s gaze. With each step he takes toward you, the air grows thinner, suffused with the heady anticipation of his proximity. Your lungs strain for oxygen, chest heaving with each shallow breath, as he finally stands before you, a commanding presence that leaves you breathless and utterly captivated.

“Hi,” his voice is a seductive melody, dripping with a sweetness that lingers in the air like honey. His complexion, paler than the moonlight, seems to shimmer under the dim lights of the club, casting an ethereal glow that draws you in even closer.

“I haven’t seen you in The Magic Shop before. Care to dance?” His invitation is laced with an enticing charm, emphasized by the subtle swipe of his tongue over his lips, leaving them glistening with a tempting sheen. Those lips, plush and inviting, evoke a sinful allure, almost reminiscent of a Bratz doll, but with a touch of dangerous sophistication. And his eyes, simultaneously gentle yet piercing, hold a captivating depth that beckons you further into his intoxicating world.

For a fleeting moment, you’re rendered speechless, caught off guard by his proposition, until Hana’s insistent nudge against your shin reignites your senses. With a jolt, your mind snaps back into focus, racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions and desires swirling within you.

You can’t help but smile, warmth flooding your cheeks as a rosy hue paints your features. “Sure,” you reply, the word escaping in a breathless whisper, your heart pounding in anticipation of what the night may hold.

With a quick glance and an apologetic smile, you abandon both Hana and the untouched drink sitting before you, the promise of the dance floor eclipsing any lingering sense of guilt. She waves you off with a knowing smirk and a playful wink, seamlessly returning her attention to her own drink, her silent encouragement echoing in your mind as you navigate towards Jimin.

With a firm yet gentle grip, Jimin guides you back to the heart of the pulsating dance floor, his touch igniting a wave of electric anticipation. Envious gazes track your every move as he positions you in the center, his fingers finding their place on your hips with a confident precision. With each sway to the rhythm, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating connection between you and the music.

You’re enveloped in a trance-like state, surrendering to the rhythm dictated by his touch. While you may not consider yourself a skilled dancer, you grasp onto the simplicity of a few basic moves, but in this moment, you relinquish control, allowing the music to guide your every sway and dip, melding your body to its seductive melody.

Amidst the snickers and the encroaching dancers, Jimin remains unfazed, his attention steadfastly fixed on you and you alone. The world may swirl with whispers and glances, but in his eyes, there’s only the two of you, locked in a mesmerizing dance of desire and lust.

Drawing nearer, Jimin’s presence becomes almost suffocating, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in. His voice, dripping with a seductive allure that sends shivers down your spine, wraps around you like a venomous embrace. “What’s your name?” He murmurs, each word laced with a potent mixture of desire and danger, leaving you utterly captivated.

“Y/N,” you pant, the syllables escaping your lips in a breathless whisper, as if each letter were a confession of the wildfire burning within you. Your heart races like a runaway train, its thunderous beats drowning out the cacophony of the club around you. A flush of heat spreads through your body, igniting a primal fire that blazes from within, leaving you certain that every inch of you must be dripping with arousal, pooling at your feet like molten desire.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces himself, the words carrying a weight of promise as his fingers tighten around your hips, almost leaving an imprint on your skin. You nod in silent acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between you, as if the intensity of his touch speaks volumes more than mere words ever could.

Suddenly, he spins you around, pulling you flush against him, his dick pressing intimately against your ass as he grinds against you with an electrifying urgency. Resting his head on your shoulder, he envelops you in his intoxicating presence, the rhythm of the music pulsating through both of you. “You know,” he whispers huskily into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “I can smell you from here. And damn, you smell so damn good.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as he playfully nips at your earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With a daring touch, his hand edges dangerously close to your core, his fingers trailing along the hem of your dress, hiking it up just enough to send a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The pressure of his body against yours, the rhythmic grind of his hips, brings an undeniable awareness of the growing bulge pressing into you with every movement. Each subtle thrust sends a surge of heat coursing through you, igniting an even fiercer desire that has you practically dripping with anticipation.

Releasing your hips with a tantalizing touch, he withdraws slightly, allowing you a moment to dance before him, a silent invitation to showcase your allure. His gaze, smoldering with appreciation, traces the curves of your body as he maneuvers around you, closing the distance once more. As he resumes his sensual grind against you, you're entranced by the fluidity of his movements, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of the music and the magnetic pull of his presence.

“Are you some kind of professional dancer?” You manage to question, though the words emerge as a breathless whisper, your lip caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to contain the moan that hovers on the edge of your lips, provoked by the tantalizing roll of his hips against your own.

Awareness of the surrounding stares registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but in this pulsating sea of bodies, everyone’s lost in their own rhythm. The only thing that matters is the intoxicating sensation of Jimin’s body pressed against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

He leans in once more, his voice a seductive melody laced with a tantalizing blend of sweetness and danger. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m a dancer.” Each word drips with an intoxicating allure, drawing you deeper into the irresistible allure of his world.

You gulp audibly, your hands instinctively finding their place on his chest, where his heart beats with a rhythm so languid, it could almost convince you it’s ceased to beat altogether. Yet, beneath the surface, it pulses steadily, a silent testament to the calm amidst the storm of his fervent movements upon the dance floor.

You lock eyes with him, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “So,” you tease, your voice barely a whisper, “are you as flexible in bed as you are on the dance floor?”

He licks his lips once more, a subtle gesture that sends a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something primal, something dangerously alluring flickering in the depths of his eyes. But before you can grasp it fully, it vanishes like a wisp of smoke, leaving you both captivated and curious.

His laughter spills forth, rich and raspy, a symphony that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze. His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens, transforming his face into a captivating portrait of mischief and allure. Leaning in close, his breath dances tantalizingly against your ear, each word a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “Take me to your place,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive promise, “and you’ll find out.”

Your mind reels as a torrent of thoughts flood your senses.

Fuck. Is he for real?

Is this happening? Is he serious? 

Pausing for a heartbeat, you draw back slightly, your gaze sweeping over him as you search for any hint of deceit or jest. The intensity of the moment demands clarity, and you refuse to be swept away without knowing if his words hold genuine intent or mere flirtatious banter.

“You heard correctly, darling. If you take me home, can I taste you?” His question hangs in the air, his eyes betraying an innocence that sharply contrasts with the sinful allure of his voice, each word dripping with a seductive promise that sets your pulse racing.

You swallow, hard, a surge of desire mingling with a tinge of apprehension as his words ignite a primal response within you. Your body betrays you, slick with anticipation, a physical manifestation of your yearning for the dangerous allure he exudes. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you find yourself drawn to the danger like a moth to a flame, craving the exhilarating thrill of the unknown that he represents.

“Yes,” you moan, unable to resist the primal urge coursing through you, as you press your hips into his, igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the air, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from him.

With every passing moment, it feels like the world around you is spinning out of control, but amidst the chaos, one thing remains crystal clear: the overwhelming desire pulsating between you and him. Driven by an insatiable hunger, you seize his hand and lead him back to the booth where you and Hana were previously seated, your heart pounding with the anticipation of what’s to come.

As you approach the booth, the scene unfolds before you—Hana seated on a stranger’s lap, their lips locked in a passionate embrace. With a mixture of amusement and urgency, you gently tap her shoulder, disrupting the fervent kiss as you insert yourself back into the moment.

Hana’s face lights up as she turns to greet you, her smile infectious and her laughter filling the air with vibrant energy. “Leaving already?” She exclaims, her voice buoyant with excitement. “Enjoy yourselves!” With a carefree wave and a raucous cheer, she dives back into her passionate exchange, leaving you to embark on your own adventure.

With a sense of trust and understanding between you and Hana, you leave the club, confident that she can handle herself. However, you both value communication and keeping each other informed of your whereabouts. As you step outside, you swiftly retrieve your phone, shooting her a quick text to let her know that you and Jimin are heading to your place.

His fingers, cool against your skin in contrast to the warmth of the night air, envelop you in a sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. Yet, in this moment, the chill is a welcome contrast to the heat of the anticipation swirling around you.

“I’ve ordered an Uber,” he announces with a smirk, his eyes ablaze with desire, a hunger that mirrors your own. Your response is a throaty moan, an instinctive acknowledgment of the electrifying tension between you.

He draws nearer, his presence overwhelming as he pulls you into the circle of his arms. His lips tease over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling anticipation in their wake, before tracing a path to your ear. With a husky whisper that sends shivers cascading down your spine, he confesses, “I really can’t wait to taste you.”

You whimper softly, a mixture of desire and frustration escaping with each breath. The intensity of his desire ignites a fierce longing within you, matching your own fervor for him. The anticipation is almost unbearable, every passing second stretching into an eternity as you yearn for the arrival of the Uber to whisk you away to your place where you can finally satiate the burning desire between you.

As the car pulls up, Jimin graciously holds the door open, a silent invitation into the sanctuary of the backseat. You slide in first, feeling the heat of his presence close behind as he joins you, the space between you shrinking until you’re sitting intimately close, every breath shared in the electric anticipation of what's to come.

You relay your address to the Uber driver, the words tumbling from your lips with a sense of urgency that matches the pounding of your heart. With each passing moment, you draw closer to the sanctuary of your home, to the promise of Jimin’s touch enveloping you, surrounding you, until you’re consumed by the fiery desire that burns between you.

Jimin’s lips glisten with a subtle sheen as he licks them, a tantalizing gesture that sets your senses ablaze. His touch, cool against the warmth of your skin, sends a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine as his fingers find purchase on your thigh. With your dress hitched up slightly, you can’t help but tense at the sensation, every nerve alive with the electric current of his touch.

You bite down on your lip, a surge of anticipation coursing through you as his fingers inch closer and closer to your core. Your body responds with an undeniable urgency, your arousal evident in the way your pussy clenches and glistens with desire. Every fiber of your being screams with need, your craving for him reaching a fever pitch. With his fingers poised just shy of their destination, his gaze locks with yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite down on your lip with a fervor that borders on desperation, the taste of copper flooding your senses as you draw blood. With a sharp inhale, you part your thighs, offering him unrestricted access to the throbbing ache between them, your drenched cunt aching to be touched, to be claimed by him.

His fingers remain still, a maddening contrast to the raging desire coursing through you, and frustration begins to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. In a desperate attempt to incite movement, you roll your hips, a silent plea for his touch to ignite the fire within you. Instead, his response is unexpected, his grip on your thigh tightening with a roughness that sends a jolt of electricity racing through you.

“Use your words, pretty.”

His gaze is penetrating, holding you in a vice grip of intensity that leaves you breathless and trembling. As you feel yourself drowning in the depth of his eyes, a desperate plea escapes your lips in a whispered whimper, “Please.”

You part your legs wider, a silent invitation for him to delve deeper into the intoxicating depths of your desire. In response, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own in a searing kiss that ignites a fiery passion between you. His lips, impossibly soft and pillowy, leave you yearning for more even as they reluctantly part from yours. As his hand finally descends to your bare pussy, stroking your exposed clit with deliberate intent, his words hang in the air like a taunt, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “You’re not wearing underwear,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of mischief that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

You chuckle, a bold and bratty streak emerging within you as you revel in the delicious tension between you. “I’m not,” you reply, your voice laced with a playful defiance that only serves to fuel the fire between you.

He returns to kissing you with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze, the heat of his lips melding with yours in a passionate dance of desire. Each kiss is a tantalizing blend of heat and moisture, igniting a primal hunger within you. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their exploration of your core, teasing you with light strokes that send waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, a strangled moan escapes your lips, echoing the depth of your pleasure. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the stern gaze of the Uber driver reflected in the rearview mirror. Without a word spoken, his disapproving stare speaks volumes, conveying his unspoken demand with chilling clarity, leaving you both startled and exhilarated by the illicit thrill of being caught in the act.

You reluctantly pull away from Jimin’s embrace, your breath ragged and labored, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you address both him and the Uber driver. “Sorry,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, a mix of apology and urgency lacing your words. With a silent gesture to Jimin, you convey the unspoken agreement to restrain yourselves until you reach the privacy of your own home, the anticipation of what's to come only adding to the charged atmosphere between you.

Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder, seeking solace in his warmth, your hand finding its place on his thigh, tantalizingly close to the growing bulge in his pants.

The car ride feels like an eternity, every passing moment tinged with the tension of anticipation and the weight of the Uber driver’s disapproving gaze in the rearview mirror. As the vehicle finally comes to a halt in front of your apartment building, you’re met once again with the stern glare of the driver, a silent reminder of the boundaries you’ve overstepped. With a contrite nod, you silently acknowledge his unspoken reprimand, eager to escape the confines of the car and indulge in the privacy of your own space.

Jimin shadows your every move as you lead the way to the elevator, his presence a palpable force at your back. With a silent determination, you press the buttons, the soft chime signaling the arrival of the elevator. Stepping inside, the silence between you hangs heavy, the tension crackling in the air like electricity. As you press the button for the 7th floor, the doors begin to slide shut, sealing you in. Before you can react, Jimin’s hands are on you, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall with a force that steals your breath away.

His lips capture yours in a searing kiss, igniting a blaze of desire that consumes you both. As his tongue seeks entrance, you part your lips willingly, inviting him into a sensual dance of intertwining desires. Together, your tongues swirl and dance in a passionate embrace, each movement igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through every fiber of your being.

A low, guttural moan escapes your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as waves of heat and need cascade through your body. Every touch, every sensation leaves you burning with desire, your body aching for more of him, yearning to be consumed by the fire of his touch.

His roughness only fuels the fire burning within you, each forceful movement igniting a primal hunger that drives you wild with desire. The sensation of being pressed against the elevator wall sends shivers of excitement coursing through your body, intensifying the urgent need building between you. Unable to resist the intoxicating pull, you grind your core against his, the friction sending sparks flying and eliciting a guttural groan of pleasure from him, further fueling the fiery passion enveloping you both.

With a sudden ding, the elevator doors slide open, signaling your arrival at your floor with a jolt of anticipation.

A thin strand of saliva lingers, a tangible link between you and Jimin as you reluctantly part from his plush lips. The intensity of your kiss leaves you both breathless, panting heavily as if you’ve exerted yourselves far more than you actually have.

With a sense of urgency, you dart out of the elevator, tugging him along in your wake, each step quickened by the feverish anticipation coursing through your veins. As you approach your door, your movements become frantic, fingers fumbling in your purse in search of the keys, while his hands boldly explore the curves of your ass, fingers gripping with a hunger that mirrors your own.

A shiver of raw desire courses through you, electrifying every nerve as the keys slip from your trembling fingers. With a shaky breath, you bend down to retrieve them, the movement pressing your ass tantalizingly against his hardened dick, sending a jolt of anticipation surging through both of you.

A deep, primal growl escapes him, a guttural symphony of desire as you press your body against his, grinding against his throbbing cock with a fervor that leaves you both breathless. Finally seizing the keys, you straighten up, the charged silence between you, signaling the beginning of what promises to be an unforgettable night.

Before slipping the keys into the lock, you cast a teasing glance over your shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as you drink in the sight of him. His eyes are dark pools of desire, wide and unblinking, reflecting a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. In that moment, you recognize the potent combination of lust and danger lurking within him, a heady concoction that only serves to heighten the intensity of your desire.

As you turn the key in the lock, the door swings open, but before you can even react, Jimin’s strength propels you forward, pressing you firmly against it. With a forceful urgency, he shoves you against the wall inside, your back meeting it with a thud, his movements swift as he swiftly closes and locks the door behind him. Keys tumble from your grasp once more, but in the heat of the moment, their clatter goes unnoticed. His lips find yours again in a searing kiss, a low growl rumbling from deep within him as he hungrily seeks to devour you, his desire palpable and insatiable.

“I want you so bad, please tell me I can have you,” he pants between feverish kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he pleads for permission, his desire echoing in every word. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his passion, you respond with a soft moan, your head nodding in silent affirmation, giving yourself over completely to the irresistible pull of his longing.

In a sudden rush of boldness, you recall his desire for vocal affirmation, and with a newfound confidence, you meet his gaze head-on. “I want you too,” you declare, your voice laced with a breathless urgency. “I want to suck your dick,” you continue, your words dripping with a raw desire that sets your pulse racing.

A deep, primal groan escapes him, reverberating through your shared kiss, as he breaks away just long enough to deliver his fervent response. “No,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “I want to taste you,” he declares, his words a promise of untold pleasures yet to come.

With a commanding presence, he presses his body against yours, pinning you firmly to the wall as his lips hover tantalizingly close to your neck, poised over your throbbing pulse point. In a surge of passion, he dives in, his kisses and licks igniting a fervent blaze of desire that leaves you gasping for air, each grunt and growl a primal symphony of pleasure echoing through the heated embrace.

His hands roam hungrily over your hips, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive urgency that sends shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, your own hands, rendered momentarily powerless by the overwhelming intensity of his touch, hang limply at your sides, unable to resist his commanding hold.

One of his thighs effortlessly slots between yours, pressing intimately against your core and sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. The friction ignites a primal response, coaxing a wanton moan to escape your lips, its echoes reverberating through the otherwise quiet hallway of your apartment.

As your brain snaps back to attention, your hands instinctively find their way to his hips, tracing the lines of his body with a newfound sense of purpose. With a boldness born of desire, you seek out his hardened dick, stroking him through the fabric of his pants with a firm yet teasing touch. His response is immediate and intense, a guttural moan escaping his lips and mingling with the heat of your kiss.

Your touch elicits a symphony of sweet, needy noises from him, each sound fueling the fire of your desire until you notice a subtle shift in his gaze. In that moment, something snaps within him, a primal instinct unleashed as his eyes darken with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze.

With a sudden, electrifying intensity, one of his hands ascends to your neck, his fingers curling possessively around it as he begins to exert pressure, cutting off your air supply. 

The sensation of oxygen deprivation sends a rush of lightheaded euphoria coursing through you, mingling with the overwhelming arousal that pulses relentlessly through your veins. In that moment, every nerve in your body ignites with a primal hunger, the boundary between pleasure and pain blurring into a tantalizing blur of ecstasy.

With an irresistible force, he withdraws slightly, his fingers maintaining their tight grip around your neck, a gesture of rough dominance that sets your senses ablaze with anticipation. Despite the intensity of his touch, there’s a calculated restraint in his actions, a deliberate balance between aggression and control that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. As you meet his gaze, you’re ensnared by the dark depths of his eyes, which shimmer with a potent combination of desire, danger, and an unspoken promise of untold pleasures yet to come. The sensation has your stomach knotting with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Behave,” he hisses, his words a menacing command that sends a shiver down your spine as you struggle for precious air, denied by his unyielding grip. With a wicked smirk, he releases his hold on your throat, and you stagger, your body nearly buckling beneath the weight of the intensity that courses through you, threatening to send you crumbling to the floor in a dizzying haze of desire and submission.

Gasping for air, your chest heaves with the effort as you cough, the sensation of your lungs burning only fueling your resolve. With determination shining bright in your eyes, you meet his gaze head-on. “No,” you assert, your voice trembling with defiance yet laced with an undeniable sense of strength and conviction.

With a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, you lick them in anticipation before lowering yourself gracefully to the floor, your gaze locked on his with an unspoken challenge. Swift and determined, your fingers deftly find the button of his sleek black leather pants, skillfully undoing them before defying gravity and pulling them down along with his boxers, exposing him fully to your hungry gaze. 

As his cock springs free, a resounding thud fills the room as it hits his stomach, the sound echoing off the walls with a palpable intensity. Thick and girthy, it stands proudly before you. While he may not boast the longest length you’ve encountered, you recognize that true pleasure lies not in size alone, but in the mastery of technique and the depth of connection shared between two bodies.

Anticipation courses through you like a current as you contemplate the possibilities of his prowess, a hunger igniting within you at the thought of experiencing his mastery firsthand. His cock, a work of art in its own right, boasts a rosy head glistening with a single droplet of precum, a tantalizing preview of the delights to come. With a confident grip, you encircle it with your hand, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from his lips as you begin to explore the contours of his dick.

With innocent doe eyes, you gaze up at him, lashes fluttering like the delicate wings of a butterfly, as you teasingly dart out your tongue to caress the glistening head of his cock. Each lick is a deliberate stroke of temptation, your movements reminiscent of savoring an ice cream cone on a scorching summer day, the taste of him a delectable treat to be savored. And all the while, your eyes remain locked with his, a silent challenge passing between you.

“You’re misbehaving,” he pants, his voice laced with a mixture of warning and desire, yet his gaze softens with an unmistakable tenderness that belies any true threat. But the allure of pushing his boundaries further is too intoxicating to resist, so you continue your ministrations with a defiant smirk, relishing in the delicious tension that crackles between you.

“But you like it, don’t you?” You tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you bat your eyes at him once more. Your hand continues its rhythmic stroking, each movement eliciting a fervent pant of pleasure from him, as the lines between restraint and abandon blur in the heat of the moment.

“I can tell,” you purr, a mischievous smirk dancing upon your lips as you lean in to kiss the head of his cock. With tantalizing finesse, your tongue traces along his slit, teasingly exploring every contour and eliciting a shiver of pleasure that courses through him like wildfire.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice thick with desire as his body quivers under your touch, every sensation echoing with raw intensity. And oh, how you revel in it, the sheer power of your influence over him igniting a fire within you that burns with insatiable passion.

“Spit on my tongue,” you command, your voice a sultry whisper as you eagerly present your tongue before him, a bold invitation that speaks volumes of your desire. The air crackles with anticipation as you wait for his response, every moment pregnant with the promise of ecstasy.

He regards you with a questioning gaze, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re a nasty one, aren’t you?” He muses, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

“Yes. I’m nasty,” you assert, your voice dripping with unabashed confidence as you hold his gaze, unyielding in your demand. “Now spit in my mouth,” with an enticing flicker of your tongue, you beckon him to fulfill your desire, every nerve alive with anticipation for the illicit thrill that awaits.

Immediately complying, he spits on your awaiting tongue, a primal act of submission and passion that ignites a fiery intensity between you. With a seductive smile playing on your lips, you tease him with a playful sway of your hips before taking his dick deep into your mouth in one smooth motion.

You start with a deliberate rhythm, drawing him in with deliberate slowness that belies the fervent desire burning within you. Each inch of him fills your mouth, your throat accommodating his cock as you battle your own limits, a testament to your unwavering dedication to his pleasure. His fingers intertwine with your hair, a gentle yet commanding hold that guides and encourages you to unleash the full force of your prowess.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, his voice trembling with raw desire as you envelop him with your mouth, every movement sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body.

You mumble around his cock, the vibrations sending a symphony of pleasure through his body, each note echoing with the intensity of your desire.

He begins to fuck into your warm mouth with urgency, his thrusts gaining momentum with each slide, his grunts coming out in ragged breaths, sounding like he’s thoroughly out of breath.

“You’re doing so good, such a good girl,” he pants, his gaze fixated on you, your mouth enveloping him completely. The sight alone drives him wild, his arousal escalating as he feels his dick twitching inside your warm, welcoming mouth.

One of his hands grabs your cheek and pushes you further into him, your nose grazing against his dark brown pubic hair, leaving you gasping for air as you feel yourself choking on his dick.

“That’s what you get for misbehaving,” he grunts, a tug on your hair as he pulls you off his dick.

You gasp desperately for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the saliva cascading from your lips.

Amidst your desperate panting, his chuckle pierces the air, laden with a menacing edge. Yet, fueled by your own defiance, you can’t resist the urge to unleash the brat within. With newfound fervor, you envelop him once more, your mouth moving in a wild, frenzied rhythm, eager to reclaim your dominance.

His hands grip your hair once more, tugging gently, an urgent plea in his touch. “I don’t want to come yet,” he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint and desire, a silent request for restraint echoed in his words.

Determined, you persist with fervor, each suction more insistent than the last, as if your very existence hinges on the rhythm of your movements. Sensing his impending release, his body becomes a symphony of tension and release, an exquisite dance to the crescendo of pleasure. Yet you press on, his hands now motionless in your hair, surrendering to the inevitable ecstasy building within him.

You moan softly, the vibration adding to the intensity of the moment, your cheeks hollowing as you draw him in, each breath drawn through your nose a desperate echo of your own need. Glancing up at him, you’re met with eyes ablaze, a visage of pure desire and disarray, his appearance a testament to the pleasure that courses through his veins, leaving him utterly ravished.

You press yourself further onto him, his cock delving deeper until it meets the resistance of your throat. His fingers tighten around your hair, a sensation that ignites a thrilling burn along your scalp, a welcomed discomfort that fuels your desire. With a frustrated hiss, he releases into your waiting mouth, warm liquid cascading down your throat. You fight the urge to gag, focusing on steady breaths through your nose, grounding yourself in the moment as he reaches the peak of ecstasy.

He gasps, his breath ragged, a testament to his spent state as you continue to coax out every last tremor of pleasure. He lets out a whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity, prompting you to release his dick with a satisfying pop, a glistening string of saliva bridging the connection between you once more.

“You little minx,” he pants, playfully slapping your cheek as a smirk dances on his lips, his eyes ablaze with mischief, like a wildfire of desire.

“I tried so hard not to come, but I guess you had other plans,” he chuckles, his gaze fixed on you as you lick your lips teasingly, each movement a silent invitation for more mischief.

“Yeah, the night is still young,” you declare, rising to your feet with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Without hesitation, you extend your tongue once more, and this time, Jimin eagerly spits into your waiting mouth, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“You’re so nasty,” he smirks, leaning in to kiss you hungrily, as if he’s eager to devour every inch of your being.

When you finally pull apart, you can’t help but chuckle softly. “And you love every bit of it,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

He clearly revels in it, evident as he steps back, shedding his pants and boxers until they form a pool at his feet. Even his shoes aren’t spared, kicked off swiftly as he stands there, completely bare from the waist down.

Despite his softened dick, he remains an arresting sight, captivating and dangerous in his nakedness, every contour and line a testament to his allure.

With effortless strength, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you through your apartment, a smirk playing on his lips. “Bedroom?” He suggests, his voice laced with anticipation.

You chuckle softly, nodding towards your right, and with a casual tap of his foot, he swings the bedroom door open. A rush of heat floods through you, your arousal evident as you feel the slick warmth between your legs, undoubtedly coating him.

He opts not to flip the switch, allowing the gentle glow from the kitchen to filter into your bedroom, casting a tantalizing veil of shadows. With a playful yet confident gesture, he tosses you onto the bed, eliciting a spontaneous burst of laughter from you, reminiscent of a lovestruck fool lost in the feelings of her crush.

You’re well aware that catching feelings wasn’t part of the plan, that this was meant to be a fleeting encounter. Yet, as the intensity of the moment swells around you, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to every sensation, every touch, every whispered word shared between you. Despite your best efforts to guard your heart, you can’t help but revel in the dizzying whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, silently acknowledging that you’re utterly captivated by every moment spent in his company.

He lingers above you, a tantalizing pause that leaves anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a deliberate yet primal grace, he sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed, his hands firmly clasping your ankles as he draws you irresistibly closer to the edge.

With a primal hunger, he yanks your scanty dress up to your waist, a guttural growl escaping his lips as his gaze locks onto your shimmering, needy pussy, the raw desire in his eyes igniting a blazing fire within you.

“Fuck. You’re practically a waterfall down there,” he remarks, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he surveys your drenched arousal.

You spread your legs invitingly, gazing down your body at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, have a taste,” you challenge, your voice dripping with anticipation.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs and placing them over his shoulders. His mouth descends to your aching core, lips and tongue poised to give you the attention you crave.

His plush tongue meets your clit first, eliciting a frustrated moan from your lips. He sucks with the hunger of a starved man, savoring your taste. Moving down, he uses his fingers to spread your folds, allowing him to dip his tongue inside your throbbing entrance.

You pant, clenching around his probing tongue, every nerve alight with bliss, feeling as though you’ve been transported to heaven.

His tongue licks and laps at your sensitive skin, each stroke sending shivers through your trembling body. The need building inside you is almost unbearable—you crave so much more.

For a moment, his tongue plunges into your cunt, teasing and stimulating your hole. Growing impatient, your hands dart down to grip his blonde locks, fingers clenching tightly as you try to urge him on, desperate for more of his relentless attention.

He seems to get the hint, moving up to suck on your clit, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you release a soft scream.

Your body clenches, fingers gripping his hair tighter as a frustrated grunt escapes your lips.

The room fills with slurping noises, driving your mind into a frenzy of pleasure.

Suddenly, his fingers prod at your entrance, and you clench in anticipation. God, you want it—you want his fingers so bad. Honestly, you crave a lot more than just his fingers.

He pushes in one finger at first, and your breath hitches. Your walls clench around the single digit, and it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into his hand and face, desperate for more.

Fuck, how is he so skilled with both his hands and mouth? His suction on your clit is relentless, alternating between perfect suction and expertly flattening his tongue, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes your bundle of nerves from side to side.

As a second finger joins the first in your tight hole, you gasp at the delicious stretch. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and Jimin’s girthy size alone suggests you’ll need ample preparation. Despite already feeling dripping with anticipation, you know the importance of proper preparation to avoid any uncomfortable burns from the stretch.

With a suction-like force around your clit, he sends you reeling, seeing stars with each electrifying sensation. His face withdraws from your pussy, yet his fingers remain firmly embedded within you, a tantalizing promise of what’s to come.

His face gleams with your essence. His eyes, deep as obsidian, flicker with desire, his lips curved into a teasing smirk as he licks them hungrily. “Think you’re ready for a third finger?”

You moan unabashedly as his fingers find that sweet spot within, every touch igniting a cascade of sensations that render you pliant. Biting your lip to stifle the cries of pleasure, you nod eagerly. “Yes,” you pant, your voice a fervent plea, “please, get me ready for your cock.”

A triumphant smirk dances on his lips as he responds with a pleased grunt, effortlessly sliding in a third finger. The stretch is undeniable, prompting you to draw in a deep breath of air to accommodate the delicious fullness. Though there’s no burning sensation, your body pulses with the intensity of your arousal, each sensation amplified by your slickness.

“You like it?” His voice, a sultry whisper, sends shivers down your spine as he inquires, his pace quickening with each determined thrust of his three fingers inside you. Your response is immediate, a chorus of moans escaping your lips in tandem with his relentless motion.

“Yes,” you gasp, feeling the intensity of his touch reverberate through every fiber of your being. Heat pools at your core, beads of sweat glistening along your hairline, as your body surrenders to the overwhelming waves of pleasure washing over you.

“Just wait until I fill you with my cock,” he murmurs, his voice laced with anticipation, his eyes smoldering with desire. “I want to see you fall apart on it. God, you’re so pretty,” he adds, his words a seductive whisper that sends shivers down your spine. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he returns to your pussy, trailing a teasing lick from his fingers buried inside you up to your throbbing clit, igniting a fire of longing within you.

“Fuck, Jimin. Please,” you pant, your voice thick with need. Every nerve in your body aches for his touch, craving the electrifying sensation of his tongue against your skin once more. You can sense the impending arrival of an orgasm, its tantalizing tendrils teasing at the edges of your consciousness, and you yearn for him to push you over the edge, to obliterate every last shred of restraint until you’re consumed by ecstasy.

“Please what?” He taunts again, his tongue teasingly tracing delicate patterns over your throbbing clit. The sensation sends waves of frustration coursing through you, igniting a fierce longing for more of his touch. You can feel the tension building within you, a potent mix of desire and impatience, as you yearn for his tongue to remain there indefinitely, granting you the blissful release you crave.

“Please make me come already!” You pant in exasperation, your fingers digging into the sheets beside your hips, a desperate plea echoing in the heated air between you.

With a shit-eating smirk, he dives back down, his mouth latching onto your clit with aggressive fervor. His relentless licking sends bolts of electricity through your body, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their relentless thrusting inside you, creating a symphony of pleasure that promises to tip you over the brink of ecstasy any moment now.

As his teeth tug at your clit, a surge of electricity shoots through your body, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation. The knot in your stomach tightens with each tantalizing pull, signaling the imminent unraveling of your senses.

“Yes. Fuck. I’m gonna come, Jimin-ah! Fuck, you’re so good,” the words tumble from your lips in a breathless rush, punctuated by the primal rhythm of your panting. Your body thrashes with unrestrained pleasure, every nerve alive with the electric touch of his lips and tongue. In response, Jimin’s hand tightens around your hips, pulling you even further down into his face.

As his tongue presses down on your throbbing clit, his fingers continue their relentless thrusts, driving you wild with their rapid pace. Your muscles tighten involuntarily, signaling the imminent arrival of your climax. It’s right there, teetering on the edge, tantalizingly close as every fiber of your being aches for release.

With your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, he withdraws his tongue from your throbbing clit, his face shimmering with your essence. “Do you really think you deserve to come?” His question hangs in the air, a challenge laced with mischief and desire.

Frustration boils within you, your body teetering on the edge of release, craving that sweet release. With a hiss of desperation, you prop yourself up on your arms, determined to meet his gaze. “I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, your voice a whispered promise laden with need. “I’ll behave. Just let me... please, let me come.”

His tongue returns to your throbbing clit with a ferocity that reignites every nerve ending, driving you to the precipice of ecstasy faster than thought itself. Your breath catches in your throat, each ragged moan echoing the crescendo building within you. As your body tenses with anticipation, you feel the inevitable release cresting like a tidal wave, crashing over you in blissful waves. Tremors ripple through your body, held securely in his grasp, as he maintains his relentless assault of pleasure, ensuring your euphoria knows no bounds.

As the waves of ecstasy continue to crash over you, he remains steadfast in his ministrations, guiding you through the tempest of pleasure. Yet, as the intensity peaks, reaching heights almost unbearable, you signal your overwhelming sensation by grasping his hair once more, a silent plea for respite amidst the storm of sensation.

His fingers retreat, and a pang of longing fills the void they leave behind, craving the sensation of being filled with his touch once more. His gaze meets yours, ablaze with desire and urgency, mirroring the yearning that courses through your own veins.

“Was it good?” He teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at you, observing the subtle flush painting your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Fuck yes,” you pant, your voice husky with desire, feeling thoroughly ravished. Yet, beneath the lingering sensations, anticipation simmers, an eager yearning for him to take you with his cock, to stretch you, to fill you completely with his intoxicating presence.

He comes up to hover over you, his presence intense as he locks eyes with you. “You know what my plan is?” He murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyebrow raises in curiosity, your heart beating a little faster as you wait for his next move, uncertain yet intrigued.

“I want to ruin you so deeply that every touch, every kiss, every moment with another will only remind you of me,” he whispers huskily into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your body responds to his words, your pussy clenching around emptiness at his crude words.

“You’ve already achieved that, Jimin. No other man could ever measure up to the fire you ignite within me,” you confess, your voice laden with desire and admiration, your body still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure.

Your gaze, undoubtedly dazed and intoxicated with lust, fixes on him with an urgency that speaks volumes. “Jimin,” you implore, your fingers grasping at his arms, “I need you inside me. Right now. Please fuck me.”

He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, a dangerous glint igniting in his eyes as he bites his lip in contemplation. “Fuck,” he breathes, desire smoldering in his gaze. “I want to fuck you. Badly. But I don’t have condoms. Do you or are you okay without that?”

You hold his gaze, your voice steady despite the urgency pulsing through you. “I don’t have any condoms either,” you admit, your eyes searching his for reassurance. “But I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Are you?” Your breath steadies, anticipation threading through your words.

His voice carries a confident assurance, yet there’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he meets yours. “Yeah, I’m clean,” he confirms, his tone firm, but tinged with a hint of vulnerability, as if silently seeking your trust.

“Then fuck me already,” you say, a bashful smile playing on your lips, your eyes locked with his, daring him to make the next move.

Jimin sits up, shedding his harness like shedding inhibitions, unbuttoning his white shirt with a flourish and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Now completely naked, he embodies the essence of a god, his presence both captivating and dangerous. Every line of his form speaks of strength and sin, his lean muscles rippling beneath pale skin that seems to glow in the dim light.

His touch ignites a trail of electricity along your skin as his fingers trace the curve of your sides. With a swift motion, he seizes the fabric of your dress, lifting it over your face, and then, in one fluid movement, he strips it away, revealing your body completely to his hungry gaze.

“No bra?”

With a mischievous chuckle, you shoot him a playful wink, a silent invitation dancing in your eyes.

“You really are a wicked little thing. Were you planning to seduce someone tonight?” His smirk deepens as his gaze lingers on your exposed breasts. His hands, cool against your skin, find their way to your chest, cupping them firmly, coaxing your nipples into stiff peaks within seconds.

He chuckles, his fingers dancing lightly over your skin, teasing and tempting you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as anticipation courses through your veins.

“No, I just revel in the freedom of my body. Restrictions aren’t my thing. Encountering you, though, was a delightful surprise,” you chuckle, feeling his fingertips tracing patterns over your nipples, each touch sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine.

His fingers encircle both of your nipples, pinching them just so, and your body arches involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips as you pant for breath.

He guides you further up the bed, positioning your entire body for his pleasure. As he settles between your legs, his fingertips dance along your thighs, each touch sending electric waves of anticipation through your body, leaving you trembling in anticipation.

His voice, a low rumble, breaks through the charged air, his eyes seeking confirmation before he delves deeper into the intimacy between you two. “Are you ready?” He inquires, his gaze locking with yours, seeking not just consent, but a shared desire to plunge into the depths of pleasure together.

You respond with an urgent plea, your voice laden with need as you offer yourself fully to him. “Yes. Put your dick in me now,” you moan, your legs parting eagerly, beckoning him to claim you as your desire ignites the air around you.

With an air of command, he positions you, pulling your thighs onto his sides, his posture exuding dominance. As he rises to a sitting position, his dick completely hard again, standing tall and unyielding, eager to claim you once.

“You’re so wet, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmurs, his hand finding his cock, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck me, please,” you rasp, the urgency in your voice palpable. Begging isn’t your usual style, but right now, you can’t help it. You need him inside you, filling every inch of you. 

As he aligns his dick with your eager entrance, a primal urgency fills the air. The anticipation builds with each teasing prod against your folds, a delicious tension mounting between you. With a low grunt, he starts to push into you, a slow and deliberate motion that sets your senses ablaze, every inch of him awakening a craving you never knew existed.

“Fucking hell, you are tight!” He pants, the raw intensity of his voice echoing the primal desire between you. With a slick ease, he slides inside, your wetness enveloping him like a long-awaited embrace, each inch stirring a tempest of pleasure that threatens to consume you both.

“Fuck. You’re so thick! It feels so good,” you moan, your voice a symphony of desire as he fills you completely. With him buried deep within, he pauses, his gaze intense and heated, a testament to the raw hunger pulsating between you, his sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light.

The way he stretches you is nothing short of incredible, sending waves of sensation rippling through your body. Your hands grasp onto his arms, seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of pleasure, forging a connection to him as he pushes you to the brink of ecstasy.

Then, he begins to move, drawing out slowly only to thrust back in with an irresistible force. Your gasp of pleasure is swallowed by the room as he establishes a rapid rhythm, plunging into you with a relentless urgency.

The bed jolts against the wall, the sound echoing through the room, and you know your neighbors will hear, but you couldn’t care less. You’re being thoroughly ravished, lost in the primal intensity of it all. The sheer ecstasy of the moment eclipses any concern for discretion.

He presses his weight into you, drawing you closer in an embrace that feels almost possessive. In a sudden rush of intimacy, he leans down to meet your lips, igniting a fiery kiss that seems to consume you both. As his body melds with yours, his every movement synchronized with the rhythmic pulse of his thrusts, you feel an electric connection unlike anything you've experienced before.

With tantalizing slowness, he trails kisses along your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. His lips wander to your jawline, peppering it with delicate kisses before descending to the curve of your throat. There, he lingers, his mouth exploring every inch, igniting a primal desire that courses through your veins. Gradually, he moves downward, his lips now caressing your breasts with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

His tongue dances sensually around your hardened nipple, sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. As his skilled hand teases and strokes the other, you arch into his touch, a symphony of sensations unraveling within you. With each gentle suck, you find yourself uttering his name in a breathless plea, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

The sensation is intoxicating, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and desire that threatens to consume every inch of your being.

His closeness envelops you, his intoxicating scent mingling with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of desire. With each meeting of your hips, his warmth and the firmness of his cock hitting your sweet spot send ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, eliciting yet another primal moan from your lips.

“Jimin!” You moan, your hands instinctively flying up to his hair, fingers entwining in the soft strands as he devours your nipple, each flick of his tongue sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, igniting a dazzling array of stars behind your closed eyelids.

He hums and chuckles around your breasts, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine, his enjoyment evident in the way he savors every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

Then, he shifts his mouth over to the other nipple, the suction intense and demanding, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your body. Simultaneously, his hand finds the other nipple, tugging at it with a tantalizing mix of firmness and gentleness.

His thrusts are relentless, driving deep into you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, each plunge sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. It’s so overwhelming, you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

With a soft pop, Jimin releases your nipple, his lips trailing a path of fire as he moves back up to your neck, planting gentle kisses that send shivers down your spine. 

You pull him tighter into your embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you confess, “Shit. I’m so close.” The urgency in your voice mirrors the pounding of your heart, each beat echoing the relentless rhythm of your desire.

His voice, thick with desire, resonates in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he urges, “Come on my cock. I wanna feel you more.”

The raw, primal tone of his words sends a jolt of electricity through you, stirring an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. Every filthy utterance from his lips molds your insides like soft clay, leaving you trembling with an insatiable hunger for more.

His touch ignites a wildfire of sensation, each pinch and twist of your hardened peaks sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body again. You surrender to the delicious torment, your back arching instinctively as uninhibited moans escape your lips, a symphony of desire echoing through the room.

“Cream my dick, I know you can do it,” his words, a potent blend of desire and command, fuel your fervor even more. With each authoritative utterance, your need intensifies, the primal rhythm of his thrusts, his cock hitting heavenly places inside. His voice, a dark symphony of dominance, stirs something primal within you, urging you to surrender completely to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

With a tantalizing flick of his fingers as he pinches your nipple again, igniting a rush of sensation through your body, and a thrust that delves deeper than before, your senses blur, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of pleasure. As his dick plunges into you, reaching depths that send shockwaves of ecstasy through your core, you’re transported to the brink of euphoria. On the tender spot of your neck, he sucks a hickey there. With a primal cry that echoes through the room, you surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you, releasing your essence onto his throbbing cock.

When your walls tighten around him, a low growl of pleasure escapes his lips, punctuating the intensity of the moment. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he gasps, his voice laced with ecstasy. As the pressure builds within him, he can feel the impending release drawing near. “I’m gonna come soon too,” he confesses, the urgency in his tone mirroring the electric tension between you.

You pant, your chest heaving as you slowly descend from the peak of your ecstasy. Every breath feels like a blessing, leaving you in a state of serene satisfaction. Jimin’s touch has shifted, his fingers tracing gentle paths along your sides, while his hips move against yours with a newfound tenderness, each roll diving into you in a more sensual manner.

His thrusts delve even deeper, each movement driving him to the core of your being, sending shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your body. The rhythmic collision of his hips against yours, accompanied by the tantalizing impact of his balls against your pussy, ignites a fire within you, consuming you with an insatiable hunger for more.

He hisses, a primal sound escaping his lips, as you feel the telltale twitch of his cock deep inside you, signaling his imminent release. His breath quickens, each exhale a symphony of urgency, while his once graceful movements give way to a primal frenzy. With a feverish intensity, he plunges into you, each thrust a fervent pursuit of his climax.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you pant, a symphony of pleasure and need in your voice, struggling to maintain your composure as he pounds into you with unrelenting force, each thrust igniting a wildfire of sensation within you. Despite the intensity, or perhaps because of it, you find yourself surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure, relishing every moment of his powerful onslaught.

“Shit. I’m losing control. I—, I can’t,” he begins to mumble, his voice strained with an unexpected vulnerability, and you observe a fleeting, pained expression flicker across his face. 

You reach out for him, your hands cradling his face with a tender urgency. “Don’t be afraid,” you murmur, your voice a soothing melody amidst the storm of sensations. “Just let go. Come inside me and fill me up,” you whisper, your words a gentle invitation laced with a primal hunger that echoes the rhythm of your entwined bodies.

His gaze darkens, a tempest swirling in those depths, as if wrestling with unseen forces. With a guttural grunt, he appears on the verge of surrender, yet something holds him back, an inner conflict etched across his features like a turbulent battle playing out before your eyes.

With a few final, desperate thrusts, he succumbs, his release flooding into your welcoming depths, a primal grunt escaping his lips as he fills you with his heated essence, a potent mixture of ecstasy and raw desire intertwining in the heat of the moment.

Ecstasy floods your senses as you revel in the sensation of being completely filled, every nerve ending electrified with pleasure. Your toes curl involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the intense ecstasy coursing through your veins.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” his voice, filled with a mix of frustration and ecstasy, pants out an apology, his breaths ragged and heavy. It’s a symphony of emotions, the frustration of losing control mingling with the sheer bliss of the moment.

Confused by his apology, you chuckle softly, your hands finding solace in tracing patterns on his back, a silent reassurance amidst the continued rhythm of his movements within you. 

His lips tenderly graze your neck, igniting a playful giggle within you. As his affection turns fervent, you relish in the sensation of him marking you, a primal instinct you love. Yet, the playful nip lingers longer, teeth sinking deeper than expected, sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. Your moans escalate, desire fueling your body’s response. But as the dizziness sets in and the need for air becomes desperate, a chilling realization dawns upon you—something is wrong.

Your eyelids flutter shut, a shiver racing down your spine as an icy chill envelops you, sapping away your energy. In the eerie silence that follows, darkness descends, swallowing you whole.

Someone shakes you gently, and you recognize Jimin’s touch. A warm, sticky sensation trails down your neck. Blood? The throb in your neck intensifies, a soreness radiating from the spot. Did he bite you so hard that you passed out?

“Y/N, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” His voice trembles with distress and worry as he gazes down at you, his eyes wide with panic.

“Why?” You ask, your voice slurred and heavy with exhaustion. Every word feels like an effort, and you’re overwhelmed by a bone-deep fatigue.

“I’m— I couldn’t stop,” he sobs, his voice cracking with guilt. You’re utterly baffled, trying to piece together what just happened.

“I should have told you sooner,” he mumbles, tears glistening in his eyes and his lips trembling. He looks like a completely different person from the confident man you met in Magic Shop.

“What’s wrong?” you groan in pain, attempting to move your body, but it refuses to cooperate, leaving you feeling heavy and unresponsive.

“I’m a vampire…” he confesses, his eyes lingering on your naked body, the sight of blood trickling from your neck and staining the white sheets.

“What?” Your eyes snap open, awareness flooding back as you see his tear-streaked face. Your heart aches at the sight, and you instinctively reach out, gently brushing away one of his tears.

“It’s okay. I had a feeling,” you murmur, doing your best to reassure him. When his tear-filled eyes meet yours again, you give him a soft, comforting smile.

“I think I drank too much from you. I’m so sorry. I should have asked,” he stammers, his voice heavy with shame. His eyes drop to the floor, reflecting his internal struggle. You can tell he takes immense pride in his self-control, and losing it tonight is tearing him apart.

“Jimin, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you reassure him, masking your own weakness as you attempt to sit up, your arms trembling slightly beneath you.

“It’s not fine. You passed out,” he grumbles, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, his lips forming a subtle pout.

"Oh. I did?" you ask, a flicker of confusion crossing your face as you piece together the fragments of your memory.

You take your hand up to your neck, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over the tender skin. Examining your palm, you find it smeared with a trace of blood, a stark reminder of the unexpected turn the night has taken. It’s not much though, and you guess the bleeding has almost stopped.

You reach out for him once more, closing the distance between you with a sudden, passionate kiss. The intensity of your embrace catches him off guard, his eyes widening in surprise, his lips yielding to the unexpected fervor of your touch.

When you draw back, your gaze locks onto his, unwavering and filled with a mix of emotions. “It’s still the best and most unforgettable one-night stand ever,” you declare, your words carrying a weight of sincerity and a hint of lingering desire.

He offers you a small smile that swiftly morphs into a mischievous smirk, as if he’s silently challenging you to another round.

“You know, I’m all for making this a regular thing, if you’re up for it. I mean, I don’t mind a little bite here and there. Maybe not to the point of blacking out, but everything before that? Damn, it was fucking hot,” you suggest with a playful wink, your sultry gaze locked with his, a subtle invitation lingering in the air as you moisten your lips.

An exasperated groan escapes him, his fangs emerging, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You extend your hand, tracing his full lips before daringly brushing your fingertips over his sharp fangs, a mixture of curiosity and arousal coursing through you.

Your gaze drifts downwards, finding his glistening dick coated in a mixture of your essence and his, standing proudly. With a seductive nibble on your lower lip, you reach out, your hand finding his throbbing cock, stroking it with deliberate intent, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him as pleasure courses through his body.

Teasingly, you inquire, “Ready to go for another round already? Got some superhuman stamina hidden in there?” Your jest is accompanied by an increase in pace, your hand working with newfound fervor, eliciting gasps of pleasure from him as his body responds eagerly to your touch.

In between gasps and needy pants, he admits, “Something like that.” 

His voice, dripping with desire, sends shivers down your spine. “I’m ready for more. And you... do you really want this to be a regular thing?” His words punctuate each stroke, his pleasure palpable as he speaks. 

“I’ve never found anyone who could keep up with me and my needs like this,” he confesses, his eyes closing intermittently in pure ecstasy.

“Yes, Jimin, me too,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire. “I feel like I’ve finally met my equal. You satisfy me in ways no one ever has. Please.” Your words, a soft plea, dance across his ear, sending shivers down his spine. As you feel him quivering beneath your touch, you know this connection is something truly special.

“Let me ride you,” you suggest with a sultry smile, but you’re not one to wait for permission. With a swift movement, you push him down onto the bed, eliciting a hiss of surprise followed by a deep, rumbling laugh from him. It’s a playful exchange, full of anticipation and eagerness for what’s to come.

“Fuck, I think I might be in love,” he groans, his words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as you straddle him, aligning yourself with his throbbing cock. With a slow, deliberate movement, you sink down onto him, relishing in the now familiar, exquisite stretch that never fails to send shivers of pleasure down your spine, something you’ll never tire off.

[fairysluna]

truly yours.

After finding out about your brother’s betrothal, you realized you might lose him forever, so he finds himself trying to convince you otherwise.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

TAGS – targcest (brother/sister), a bit of angst, fluff at the end, and smut (loss of virginity, p in v, oral sex —female receiving—, fingering, praise.)

AUTHOR’S NOTE – third repost. this is my very first smut in English, so pls consider this before reading bc it might not be perfect lmao. Enjoy!!🤍

WORD COUNT – 3.9k

FEEDBACK, SHARES AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!

Hearing those words was enough to make you frown. Your eyes instinctively went to Aemond, who was looking down at the floor, trying his best to ignore your haze. He knew that he could not bear your saddened eyes filled with threatening tears that were eager to escape. It hurted you so badly, making you feel a hole in the place where your heart is supposed to be.

You looked down, seeing the tears falling onto your hands, and that is when you decided it was enough. Everyone’s eyes followed you to the exit of the Council Room, but no one even bothered to ask you what was wrong. They kept talking about the war that was yet to come, while planning on selling you and Aemond in order to form alliances that would make all of you victorious.

You were walking towards your room, a guard was following your trail. Small sobs were escaping from your lips when you heard fastened steps approaching you. At first, you did not seem interested in knowing who was getting closer, too busy thinking about your own misery to even care about something else. That was until you heard his voice, a bit agitated due to the fast pace,

“We need to talk,” He said behind you. You and your guard turned at the same time only to find the one-eyed prince looking worryingly at your frame.

His eyes softened once he saw your puffy eyes and wet face. You use your own hand to wipe off the tears that were drying on your cheeks. Then, you lifted your chin in a failed attempt at trying to look less broken.

“I don’t think we need to talk about anything, really.” Your voice sounded weak, Aemond tilted his head, begging for a minute alone with you.

“Leave us.” He ordered the guard beside you, who made a slight bow before walking towards an unknown direction.

“I told you, Aemond.” You sighed, “There’s nothing to talk about. The decision has already been made.” You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. Trying to pretend you did not care. “Congratulations on your betrothal, brother. I wish you nothing but happiness.”

You turned around in order to keep walking towards your chambers, but his big hand grabbed your wrist and forced you to look at him once again, pinning you against the cobblestone wall behind you and stealing a gasp of surprise from you. You looked up to him again, tears starting to fall down your cheeks.

“Let me go.” You squirmed under his touch.

“No.” He replied, his tone was monotone while his free hand cupped your face. “You’re going to listen.”

You scoffed. “And what do you have to say?” The mixture between sadness and anger was clear in your voice, making Aemond clenched his jaw. “Go on. Let me hear it.”

“I did not wish for this, y/n. I swear it.” He muttered, breathing deeply. “I tried to convince mother about other ways of persuasion, but she refused.”

“How could you?” You pushed him with your free hand, making him totter in his position.

“How could I?”

“How could you do this to me? To me!” You raised your voice, feeling your throat getting tighter with the nod that was forming in it. “You told me you were mine! You told me you loved me!”

“Do you think I was lying?” He spoke harshly.

“You are getting married!”

“Because it is what I have to do. It’s my duty.” He snapped, “Do you really think that if they would’ve let me choose, I wouldn’t have chosen you?” You kept quiet, taking a deep breath to not sob. “It doesn’t matter if I’m married or not, you will always be the only woman I love.”

You shook your head, and he frowned.

“You don’t believe me?” He asked, leaning back a few inches, and loosening his grip on your wrist.

You looked down at the floor and started crying, completely heartbroken. Aemond only managed on holding you between his comforting arms, caressing your hair and whispering sweet words to your ear.

“She is going to bear your children.” You said, shakingly. “She is going to raise them, she is going to give you a family, Aemond.” You held on to his clothes with a firm grip, closing your eyes and breathing his scent. “You will end up loving her more than you have ever loved me. There’s no point in denying that.”

He forced you to look at him, wiping your tears and cupping your face delicately. He touched your lips with his thumb, looking at them for a second before turning back to your eyes. Aemond then pushed his lips against yours, a gesture that felt so soft and fragile, almost as if he was scared of breaking you. A deep breath left your lungs once you felt his touch, tasting the flavor of your salty tears on his lips.

When he stepped back, you followed him with your glistening stare. Looking so enamored by him, so devoted.

“You will always be the only woman I love.” He repeated, in a whisper against your lips.

“Prove it.”

“How?” He asked confused.

“Take my maidenhead.” Aemond widened his eyes, a bit surprised by your suggestion. “You’ve always told me that we should wait until we marry, but now we will not be able to do that.”

“I can’t, my love.”

“There is no point in keep waiting for something that will not happen.”

“I can’t do it.” He looked at you, his haze was soft and his frown a bit wrinkled. “I can’t ruin you.”

“You won’t ruin me. You are the one I trust the most.” You held his hand and squeezed it tight. “I need you to be my first. I need you to prove to me your love.” You begged. “Please, Aemond. I need you.”

He took a step back, setting you free of his grip. You looked at him confused, while he tried to look everywhere but you. Aemond muttered something you could not understand, and then he left. He left you in the middle of the hallway, alone and hurt. You could not do anything but to start sobbing quietly, covering your mouth with your hand so no one would hear you. The hole in your chest soon came back with an excruciating feeling inside you.

Your eyes were still wandering across the hallway, in the same direction where Aemond left. Begging in silence for him to return. But he never did.

A couple hours later, when night fell on King’s Landing, you were brushing your hair in your chambers, already wearing nothing but a thin silky nightgown. You were standing in front of a mirror, in silence. The only thing that was producing a sound was the soft wind moving your curtains and the night birds outside. It was a peaceful night, but you were far from feeling part of that peace.

A knock on your door made you turn around to face it. You did not say anything and still someone entered without your permission. The light of the candles illuminated the tall and thin frame of Aemond, who stood in the entrance of your room while the guard outside closed the door behind him. The two of you stayed in silence, but your breathing was starting to fasten with his mere presence, and the hairbrush on your hand suddenly became the most interesting thing to look at.

“What are you doing here?” You managed to ask.

He did not respond. He just took one step closer to the sofa in front of him, taking off his jacket and staying only with his white shirt. You felt nervousness running up and down your body, not being sure of what his intentions were.

“I asked you something,” You said, this time more loudly and clearly.

Again, he did not answer. He took a couple steps more, getting closer to you. Now he took his shirt off, and that was enough to make you hold your breath. Your legs started to feel unstable once you looked at his naked torso getting closer and closer to you.

“Aemond, what are you doing?” You asked again.

Not a word was said again, and this time he grabbed your face and kissed you. It was different from any other kiss you have ever shared; it was intense, a bit desperate perhaps. Soon, the hairbrush on your hand dropped to the floor, and your hands looked for support on his strong shoulders while he was taking your breath away.

You gasped when his big hands cupped your arse and squeezed it tight. He took advantage of that to sneak his tongue inside your mouth, swirling it against yours. You could feel his sweet taste, and soon you got drunk by it. It was intoxicating, your body was starting to ask more of him, more of his touch.

His hands started to wrinkle your nightgown, pulling it up. He turned you around and his lips started to devour the skin on your neck. You looked up, only to find your reflection in the mirror. Aemond’s hands soon find the strips of your gown, and he pulls them down revealing your breasts. Your eyes fluttered while your cheeks turned red, a bit embarrassed of being fully naked in front of him. You tried to look away from yourself, but Aemond grabbed your jaw and forced you to do so.

“Don’t look away, love.” He whispered against your skin, his soft voice causing tickles on your neck that made you squirm under his touch. “I want you to see how much I love you with your own eyes.”

His hands let the piece of fabric go, now leaving you fully naked in front of him and the mirror. You crossed your legs, and the pressure made you sigh. You felt the coldness hardening your nipples, soon Aemond hands grabbed them; playing with your soft knobs, twisting them between his fingers all while he was sucking on your neck, leaving wet kisses on your skin and sweet words on your ear.

Your eyes were close, so you did not realize the moment when one of his curious hands reached your core, forcing you to stop crossing your legs. You took a deep, shaky breath when you felt his cold fingers wandering between your folds, spreading your slick and feeling how wet you were. He hummed against your skin, making you shiver and lose your mind.

Two of his fingers found your clit, and he did not wait to start rubbing them against it. Your eyes opened from the impression of the new sensation and you moaned a bit too loud. Aemond smiled at himself, looking through the mirror how you would arch your back, rubbing your arse against his growing length, all by his mere touch.

“Aemond…” You find yourself moaning his name, desperate to feel more about him. “Please.”

He hummed in response, smirking at you. “What do you want?” He said, softly.

But you did not know the answer to that. Your body was aching for something unbeknownst for you.

“I need you.” The words came out by themselves, you did not even think about them before saying. It was as if your body was talking without your mind’s consent.

One of his fingers teased your slit, going back and forward from your clit to your entrance. You opened your mouth gasping for air. He started to slowly push his long finger inside you, making you moan loudly, too loudly perhaps. He growled once he felt your warmth around his digits, dreaming about how you would feel around his cock.

“Mhm…” He moaned while moving his finger slowly, in and out, feeling you already clenching. “You take me so well, my love.”

Your eyes looked at the mirror and focused on his hands, one was grabbing your breast, playing and pinching your nipple, while the other was moving fastly inside you. The obscene sound of your juices coating his fingers was making you even more wet, the sound of his humming and his praise was sending you over the edge, but it wasn’t until he put another finger inside you that you felt your stomach tightening, and your walls started to clenched around him.

“I feel how close you are.” Aemond whispered, looking at your eyes through the mirror and making you feel weak. “Are you going to cum around my fingers?” You nodded desperately, he smirked.

“Aemond, I- please!” You whined, feeling so close to release.

He started to move faster, your thighs were moving along with his hand. His palm was rubbing your swollen clit while his fingers curled inside you, abusing your walls and touching that sweet spot that made you shake. The sudden and overwhelming pleasure washed over your body, forcing you to close your eyes tightly and open your mouth to let go a whimper.

“That’s it, my sweet girl.” He praised you, starting to slow down his movements while you kept moaning softly. “Well done.”

Your legs twitched a little, still affected by your climax. He started kissing your neck.

“Look at you, my love.” Aemond muttered, looking at your body. “Look how beautiful you look right now.”

You managed to see beyond your own pleasure, distinguishing your body. Your eyes were teary, your cheeks were red and your lips swollen. You perceived some reddish marks on your neck. You did look beautiful.

“I love you.” He said, caressing your soft skin with his free hand. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Aemond pulled out his fingers, which were glistening with your orgasm. You complained due to the absence of him inside, but he did not give too much time before starting to devour your lips again. His tongue now was shamelessly licking your lips, making you open your mouth to receive him. You hummed in response, and he grabbed your tights in order to carry you towards your bed.

You felt his hardened length and unconsciously you started rubbing against him, leaving a wet spot on his pants. Aemond just chuckled at your desperation, so eager for him.

“You want me so bad, do you?”

You nodded, “Yes, Aemond, please.”

“Steps by steps, my love.” He dropped you carefully onto the mattress, watching your body on display so beautifully. Your legs were open, showing him all of you without being ashamed anymore. He clicked his tongue and saw how you were clenching around nothing. “I need to taste you first.”

His words confused you at first, but he kneeled on the floor beside the bed, pulling you by your legs and getting closer to your core. You then understood what he meant, and a hot feeling ran over your body making you feel flustered with everything. He blows on you, making you twitch and whine. He smiled, you were so sensitive already, and you have not even got to the best part yet.

He teases you a bit, getting so close to your core but not touching you yet. You felt his warm breath against your folds, making you whine and move your hips upwards in a desperate attempt to get his touch. He would just lean back, wanting you to wait. He smelled your sweetness, and he looked at you with hungry eyes. He was drooling for you, and once he lost control he could not gain it back.

A big cry escaped from your mouth once he sank himself between your legs, finding glory and paradise in it. His tongue sucked your clit harshly making you close his eyes and grabbed whatever was closer to your reach; his head. Your grip was firm, but not enough to pull his silver hair, you were still being careful, not wanting to hurt him.

Soon you turned into a moaning mess, moving your hips against his face. His nose was pressed on your clit, while his tongue was going in and out of your entrance. You could not even think about anything in that moment, just in the pleaser that he was giving you.

“Fuck, Aemond!” You said, feeling so overstimulated already. Feeling a hundred sensations already making you insane. You never thought it would feel this good.

He stepped away, clicking his tongue and savoring your flavor in his mouth. He softly smiles after seeing what he has done so far, noticing how your chest would move fast and how warm your skin felt. He stood up, and he finally put down his pants, releasing his hardened cock. You saw how glistening and red was the head, already dripping. His size was making you drool, you had to bite your lip to not moan over the view.

He hovered over you, covering you entirely with his body, and you felt his tip smacking against your belly. Then, he kissed you once more, holding your legs on each side of his hips and positioning himself between them. You felt your own taste on his tongue, it was sweet.

“You asked me to do this,” He said, holding his weight with his arms. “But I need to be sure this is truly what you desire.”

Your eyes flustered, and the only thing that you managed to do was take the eye patch off of his face. Immediately, Aemond looked down, now he was embarrassed of being seen without it, but you were quick enough to grab his chin and looked at his eye. The haze that you gave him, filled with love and adoration, made him feel odd but good.

“Please, my love. I want me to be truly yours.” You said. “And I want you to be truly mine.”

Aemond sighed out of love, and he grabbed both of your hands with one of his, while the other made his tip rub against your folds. You gasped at the sensation, but you cried out once he started to make his way inside you. It was painful, but luckily he was slow, taking his time and getting you used to his size.

“Oh, gods.” You moaned, leaning your head back and twitching your hips.

“Sh, sh.” He said, “It’ll pass, my love. You’re taking me so well.”

You bite your lip, feeling him getting deeper and deeper, stretching you out. He groaned, feeling you so tight around him, giving such a delicious pleasure. He had to held back multiple times.

With one single thrust he was completely inside you. You gasped when you finally felt him fully, he stayed still, not wanting to move yet no matter how hard his body was asking him to do it. Aemond took his hand and moved it down your body until reaching your abused clit. You hissed when he started to play with it, twirling his fingers around him. He moaned softly once you squeezed him.

“Please…” You cried, your eyes already tearing up. “Please, please. Move.”

He obeyed you, not being able to resist your whiny pleas. He moved slowly, in and out at a tortuous pace that was driving you both mad. The pain was still there, that pinching uncomfort that made hissed on more than one occasion, but the stimulation on your clit was enough to make it bearable.

“Fuck, love. You feel so good.” He whimpered against your lips before kissing you slowly but passionately.

You started to moan on his lips once his thrust became harder. Your breasts started moving along with the movements of his hips, and you both became drunk in pleasure.

Soon the whole room was filled with your moans. Aemond was touching you like a starved man, kissing you and licking you all over your body. He was claiming you as his, as it has always been. You just let yourself go with all the lust your body was receiving, every thrust was numbing your mind and weakening your senses. You were now so gone in your own pleasure that it was difficult to even pronounce his name.

His lips took your nipple and your eyes closed. He kept fucking you, every thrust became harder than the prior, he was started to get loud and you were enjoying those sweet sound. Now only you get to hear them, to drool over them.

“I’m always going to be yours.” He spoke, his voice so much deeper and lower than usual. You almost cum right there on the spot after hearing him. “Always.”

He took your legs and put them on his shoulders, and now you were starting to get louder. He was hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch and your eyes roll back. The bed was shrieking under your bodies, but you were completely gone to even hear beyond your own moans. Aemond was mesmerized looking down at you, and he could not wait any longer without filling you up.

“Come on, my sweet girl.” He said, “Don’t you want to cum?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please!” You whined, breathing louder and faster. You soon started to feel your stomach tightening, you started to clench around his twitching cock. Already familiarized with the feeling, you knew you were about to cum. “Fuck- Aemond, please.”

“Go on. Cum.” Aemond commanded, putting his hand around her throat and squeezing it just a bit. “Make a mess on my cock.”

His filthy words stimulated you enough to reach your climax and cry out his name. Aemond hissed at the sight of your release wetting his abdomen, gawking over the sight.

“Just right there, love.” He moaned, “You are doing it so well.”

Tears start to stream down your face over the stimulation of his thrusts. He was searching for his own release now, so his hips started to move faster and harder, until he finally filled you up with his cum. You twitched due to the sensation, feeling oddly good and relaxed, while Aemond kept moving, trying to keep his seed deep buried inside you.

He hummed once he pulled out, and he laid on your side, holding you tight and kissing your cheek while trying to calm down. There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke,

“Don’t you ever put in doubt how much I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, “I’m just afraid of losing you. I can’t make it without you, we both know it.”

“That’s why we must always be together.” Aemond covered your bodies with a thin sheet, “And that’s why I won’t marry the Baratheon girl.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, surprised and confused. He only chuckled at your reaction and kissed the corner of your lip.

“We will find other ways to make allies.” He assured you. “But a betrothal is not an option, I’m already betrothed.”

Once again, you frowned, confused, so you asked. “To whom?”

He kisses you softly, it was a big contrast of what you have done prior to that kiss, but it felt so comforting and nice. It was a gesture filled with love and adoration towards each other. When you parted, he looked at your eyes and said,

“To you, of course.”

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU

GENERAL TAG LIST – @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Deathless Death

Pairing: Osferth x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Religious guilt. Smut. Fingering. Slight exhibitionism. Oral (f receiving). Gratuitous Hozier references. Word count: 3.5k

Summary: When a young woman's father is killed following Skade's attack on the priests of Alton, Osferth agrees to take responsibility for her, feeling a need to protect a fellow Christian. However, the longer they travel together the deeper they have each other questioning their faith. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The Lord works in mysterious ways. This is a belief that Osferth has always clung firmly to, it is the only way he can justify his existence; the result of a union between a serving girl and a deeply religious king who, so embarrassed by his extramarital indiscretion, had ensured that Osferth was enrolled as a novice monk as soon as he was old enough, and refused to ever acknowledge him as his son.

Osferth is a bastard, yet he must have a purpose, for God does not give life without intent. He feels he has found his reason for being when he crosses paths with Uhtred, a man his uncle, Leofric, had always spoken kindly of. He offers to serve Uhtred as a warrior, though he has no fighting experience. This is the divine path chosen for him, he is certain of it. He clutches the hilt of his sword as tightly as he often grips the cross that sits around his neck in times of anguish, and does his best to be brave in spite of how afraid he feels.

Reluctantly he learns the ways of ale and women, surprised when the Lord does not smite him down for his sins. He surmises that he has misinterpreted the teachings of the Holy Book; a life of piety does not have to mean an existence endured in abstinence. Though his faith in God never once falters, he grows to enjoy, and even seek out, the pleasures he’d once mistaken for temptations. They are not a means for him to stray from the light, but another outlet in which he can revere it and give thanks.

It is not until he reaches the village of Alton with Uhtred and his men that he discovers the true purpose of the journey he has embarked upon. A group of Danes with a seeress named Skade in their midst has attacked the village, killing all of its holy men.

That is where he finds her. Such a fragile looking thing, sobbing her heart out while huddled behind a vegetable cart, clutching her cross in much the same way he used to do with his.

“Don’t be afraid.” He reassures her calmly, crouching so his face is level with hers.

“Are you an angel?” She asks tearfully, her eyes wide and imploring.

Osferth cannot help but smile at that. For you I’d like to be.

With gentle persuasion, Uhtred agrees to allow Osferth to bring the girl along, provided he is responsible for her. He is all too happy to agree to that. Her mother is long dead and the attack on Alton has killed her father, she has no one else. He was meant to meet her, he feels it in his heart.

Naturally, she is fearful of the others, her only prior encounter with heathens had ended in the death of her only living relative and left her all alone in the world. She clings to Osferth, but he does not mind it. He sees a lot of himself in her, how scared he’d been when he’d first left the monastery to accompany Uhtred. But if she is anything like him, she is resilient and she will pull through this.

As the weeks pass, her face becomes less marred by fear and grief. She is beautiful, Osferth realises. He has been grateful to have someone to bow his head in prayer with, however, the way that she snuggles next to him for warmth in front of the campfire, how closely she leans back against his chest as they ride together and the proximity in which she lays her bed roll next to his no longer feel so innocent, at least not to him.

He feels ashamed for harbouring such illicit thoughts about her. Her piety makes him feel like he is the worst kind of sinner. She does not partake in ale and stays quiet when the rest of the group share lewd jokes. Where her prayers are earnest and heartfelt, his feel flimsy and disingenuous. He would renounce the Lord and worship her instead if she asked it of him. The idea makes his stones ache. When she shivers and huddles to him for warmth it occurs to him that he’d burn everything in his path if only for her to never feel cold again.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest at the thoughts and feelings she elicits from him, especially when she looks at him, her eyes are always filled with gratitude and adoration. He has grown to crave her gaze, despite the fact that she will never view him as anything more than a protector.

When it becomes too much for him to bear, he seeks the comfort of the nearest brothel. With each thrust into the whore beneath him, he imagines her face, how those hands that fold so delicately in prayer would feel clinging to his shoulders, how soft and supple her flesh would be against the wiry hardness of his own. When he reaches his peak, picturing her, he comes harder than he ever has before in his life. It feels like he has died and approached the very gates of Heaven.

If that is how it feels merely to think about her, he wonders what it would be like to actually be inside of her. It would surely feel holy and sacred, a pleasure not meant for mere mortals. For the second time that night he craves her, and so he seeks out another woman offering her services in the pleasure house.

He pays them well, and he is not unkind to them. He is convinced that that is why they fight over him the next day. He is mortified, especially when he sees that she is watching. She will think him godless, sinful. He hopes that the Lord is merciful and does not intend for her to leave him. He sends a silent prayer of thanks when she remains by his side in the days that follow.

It is not until Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan pay a visit to Alfred, and leave Osferth and her back at camp that he realises they’ve never truly been alone together. He shifts uncomfortably on the log he sits upon, glancing up from the flames of the fire every so often at her, unsure of what to say. She eyes him curiously the entire time, the warmth from the fire and the sunny afternoon meaning she does not snuggle to him as she usually would. Secretly he is disappointed.

“Do you still believe in God?” She asks quietly.

Her gaze is timid and as Osferth turns to meet her eye, she looks to her lap as though ashamed to have asked.

“Of course I do, my lady,” He replies softly, smiling at her. He wants more than anything for her to look at him again, there is something reverent in the way she regards him that makes his chest swell and his cock twitch. He could die happily with a single glance his way from her. “My faith has never waivered.”

“You are not as devout as the people from back home.” Her fingers pinch and stroke over the fabric of her skirt as she says this, not looking up at him as he sits across from her.

“I used to be,” He admits with a slight shrug, wondering if she thinks less of him for his perceived lack of faith. “I suppose travelling with Uhtred has taught me that faith does not mean deprivation. The Lord made life for living.”

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes flicker to his. “Is that why you visit brothels, and why those women fight over you?”

He feels his cheeks heat up as she asks this, and suddenly it’s his turn to look away, embarrassed. He takes a moment to consider his reply, not wanting to sully her innocence with vulgarity, or say anything that might frighten her. “I was celibate when I was a monk…” He begins awkwardly. “I’m not anymore. Truthfully, partaking in the pleasures of the flesh feels like the closest experience to meeting God without dying.”

He knows he has turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes speaking, he cannot bear to look at her for fear of what he might see in her eyes. She must think he is utterly depraved.

The moment of silence between them hangs thick and uncomfortable before she finally breaks it. “If that is why you are fought over…then I am eager to find out for myself.”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide, stunned and unsure of if he has heard correctly, it seems too forward a statement for such a pious little thing like her. However, her stare is steady and unwavering as it meets his, causing his breath to hitch. He hadn’t misheard her and she meant every word.

The cracking of a twig causes them to finally look away from each other, as they turn to see the others returning. He has never been displeased to see any of them before, but can’t help but wish they’d left it a little longer to come back.

Her words play on a loop in Osferth’s thoughts. I am eager to find out for myself. He frantically strokes himself to release that night, once more plagued by visions of her, the silkiness of her hair, her scent, the dulcet tone of her giggle. There is no sweeter innocence in his mind than the gentle sin that he shares with her.

There is a storm the following evening. Though they are camped beneath a thatch of trees, protected from the worst of the downpour, it does little to block out the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning. She whimpers at every crash, clearly frightened, and Osferth’s heart aches for her. He’d do anything to make sure the expression of fear and sadness she wore for the first few weeks they traveled together never returns.

He pulls her tight to him, wrapping the furs around them both as they sit around the fire with the others. They don’t bat an eye at the familiarity between the two, understanding of the fact that she finds comfort in a fellow Christian’s presence and that Osferth is simply offering kindness to someone in need of it.

She melts into his embrace and he allows his hands to wander over her beneath the furs, tracing the curves of her through her dress. He has never dared to touch her like this before and she looks up at him questioningly, though makes no move to stop him.

Emboldened by her silent consent, he strokes her hair with his free hand, while allowing the other to push up her skirt. She gasps at this and buries her face in his chest. He holds her tighter while Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric continue their conversation, all assuming she is just startled by the storm that rages above them.

Her inner thighs are velvety smooth as his fingertips trace over the flesh of them. Not even angel’s wings feel as divine as this, he thinks. As the pads of his digits make contact with the gusset of her smallclothes he draws in a shaky inhale at finding that it is damp with her arousal. It darkens the desire within him to have confirmation that she is just as affected by him as he is by her, and he pushes her underclothes to the side, stroking through the slickness of her folds.

She shudders against him, her breathing growing heavier and he quietly shushes her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He looks up to see Finan give him a sympathetic smile, clearly assuming Osferth is comforting her, before he is distracted by Uhtred swatting him softly with the back of his hand in order to gain back his attention.

Osferth looks back down at her, she is peeking up at him from where her head rests against his chest and in the flicker of the firelight he can see that her pupils are wide with lust. It is a look he has seen on the faces of many of the women within the pleasure houses he’s visited over the years. To see it burning bright within the eyes of someone so pure is enough to drive him to madness with the desire it awakens within him.

Shielded from view beneath the furs, he circles her pearl with precision, silently delighting in the way she clutches at his robes and bucks slightly up at his hand. He feels she’s growing close when her body tenses against his and she stares up at him, worry evident in how her brows pinch together. Poor thing has never peaked before.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, coaxing her to let go.

He cradles her head to his chest as she trembles and gasps against him, before finally going limp. Osferth withdraws his hand, allowing her to slump sleepily against him, smiling softly down at her as her eyes drift closed.

He knows in that moment that she will be both his salvation and his damnation, and he welcomes both with open arms.

It is another week before they are left alone together, and life carries on as normal. They do not speak of what happened beneath the furs on the night of the storm, despite the fact that it’s all Osferth can think about.

The others head away from camp one evening to scout the locations of a possible attack from the Danes. It is too dangerous for her to come along, so Osferth remains behind so she is not left alone. This time she seats herself next to him, and he feels his mouth run dry, heart hammering in his chest as he struggles to think of what to say to her.

He startles when she places her hand on his. “You are right,” She says with a shy smile. “It felt…like something divine…when you touched me.”

Osferth swallows thickly. “You liked it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but desperate to hear her say it.

She nods, chewing her lip nervously. “I did. Does that make me a sinner?”

His eyes widen in mild horror that she could ever consider herself such. “No, that is something you could never be.”

“I am not repentant though,” She muses, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I have thought of nothing else.”

“That is only natural.” He tells her, suddenly aware of how close their faces are, noses almost brushing. His gaze flits to her lips momentarily. Osferth has never kissed a woman before, though he has fucked plenty; the ones he exchanges coin with do not allow such intimate gestures. He desperately wants to kiss her though.

He is surprised by her boldness when she leans in first. It is a quick peck to his lips, which she rapidly withdraws from, looking sheepish. He cups her cheek, coaxing her back and presses his mouth to hers with more pressure. She softens against the movement and for a moment it feels as though time has stopped for Osferth. There is only her. It is a kiss riddled with youthful inexperience and yet he does not think there has ever been anything better.

“Will you…” She mutters against his lips, clearly uneasy with attempting to ask for what she wants.

“Touch you?” He finishes for her.

“Yes,” She whispers, “I want to feel…” She places a hand over her face, giggling. “I have never laid with a man before. I do not know what to ask for.”

“It’s okay.” He reassures her. “I understand.” Osferth coaxes her to sit on his lap as she had the night of the storm, only this time there are no furs to cover them, and he rucks her skirt up around her hips, rather than slipping his hand beneath it.

“Take these off for me.” He says, plucking at her smallclothes.

She does as he instructs and he pulls her tight against him, her back flush with his chest as his arm snakes around her waist, dipping his hand between her legs. She is wet already and he cannot help the groan that escapes him as his fingers make contact with her core.

He circles her bud slowly and she clamps her mouth shut, cutting off the mewl that threatens to spill forth.

“You don’t have to be quiet this time.” He tells her, as she turns her face into his neck, her breath coming in hot puffs against his skin.

Tentatively he dips a finger into her entrance, conscious of the fact that she has never had anything inside of her before - the thought that he is the first makes him swell painfully hard against her rear as it presses back into his lap. Her grip on his digit as he inserts it is vice-like and he wonders how she’d feel squeezing around the length of him, if she ever allows him to take things that far.

He sets a steady rhythm of dragging his finger against a rough patch inside of her that causes sounds that are prettier than any of the songs he’s heard at æfensang to spill forth from her, while circling her pearl with his thumb.

She squirms against him, her arm reaching above and behind her to wrap around his neck, her fingers scrabble desperately at the back of his robes. Her jaw is slack, her eyes glassy and Osferth believes that if the Heavens could speak then her wanton cries of pleasure would be their mouthpiece.

She falls apart with a violent shudder, clenching ceaselessly around his finger and he withdraws it slowly as she begins to calm, continuing to hold her close. Though he is pleased to have brought her to peak, he feels disappointed that the moment is over so soon. He wants, needs, longer to enjoy her.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers to her, pressing his face to her hair. “Will you allow me to taste you?”

“Taste me?” She asks, confusion etched across her pretty features. “I do not know what you mean.”

“I will show you.” He tells her, ushering her off of him and laying down. “Come here.”

There is no question in Osferth’s mind that he would ever allow her to lay upon the ground, she is too good for that. He will gladly let her sit atop him so that she never has to experience that indignity or discomfort.

He guides her to straddle him, pushing her upwards towards his face, but she falters.

“Osferth, I’ll crush you!” She protests, hovering above him.

“You won’t, my lady.” He tells her with a soft chuckle, tugging insistently at her thighs.

She relents, hovering over his face. “What are you going to…oh!”

He cuts her off, gripping her outer thighs and runs the flat of his tongue against her centre. He can taste the remnants of her previous climax and hums at the sensation. She is sweeter than honeyed wine, an essence so pure it must be holy.

Tugging her flush against his face he laps at her like a man starved, sucking harshly against her pearl, before licking hungrily through the slick that gathers as she whines and writhes above him. If there is a Heaven then he has found it between her thighs and never wants to leave.

He strains painfully against his breeches beneath his robes as she begins to lose control, grinding against each flick of his tongue. He knows she will not last long, already sensitive from his earlier attention and so he savours each moment; her taste, her scent, the feel of her against his mouth and how she moves against him. She is a vision of beauty beyond comprehension as she sits astride him, thread thrown back, moans of ecstasy offered up to the night sky.

She was created in the image of all things good and pure, and his journey so far has led him to her; she is made for him, of this he is certain as she reaches the apex of her pleasure. He swallows down her release like it’s communion wine. In her gratification he is cleansed, reborn.

Osferth lays her down carefully on her bed roll afterwards, covering her body with his own. She appears almost drunk as she gazes up at him, eyes heavy lidded with a soft smile upon her lips.

“My sweet girl,” He coos to her, softly stroking her face. “Can you take more? Will you let me inside?”

As she opens her mouth to answer, the raucous laughter of Finan can be heard in the near distance. The group is returning.

Osferth moves quickly away from her, laying down on his own sleeping mat, watching her as her eyes flutter closed. He hopes she will dream of him. He hopes they will have further opportunities to explore each other. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and she is the most precious mystery he has yet to encounter.

[bythepen98]

Fem!Izuku 💚

Technically a doodle since it only took me 2-3 hours to finish.

I know Horikoshi drew him as a girl with short hair but I like to imagine it longer, fluffy and styled like his mother's.

Not entirely sure how big of a difference growing up quirkless as a girl would be and how much that would've affected her once she entered UA but, again, I'm no author so I'll keep it simple:

As per my headcanon, she's still roughly the same with ofc more feminine mannerisms and I reckon there'd be some differences with her fighting style/patterns even when she's trying to imitate All might (bc I know I'd probably move different if I was a guy). She's still bestfriends with Iida and Ochaco but would also be closer to her other female classmates and would attend any scheduled hang outs with them unless it falls on a training day with All might or smtg--Girls night every other week or month once they enter the dorms.

Speaking of All might, he's already doting on male Izuku but he'll probably be even more protective if he was a girl (doesn't help that he's reminded of Nana when he sees her hairstyle). Aizawa doesn't believe in the notion that girls be automatically coddled bc of their gender but I'm sure after getting to know his number one problem child, he'll low-key be more sweet on her than the rest and is extra harsh during training bc he wants to make sure she can protect herself.

Izuku is exasperated but also appreciates it and would indulge them bc they're her dads.

Self indulgent thought: She has her hoard of admirers (villains included) but is extremely dense and anything but a blunt no nonsense confession to her face will be perceived as a reach out for friendship. Katsuki is her guard dog in these matters bc he definitely likes her but is being stupid about it, understandable considering their still unresolved-complicated past, so he takes it upon himself to keep away other dunces who think they can get lucky. Shouto and Hitoshi have a pass bc they're her friends, but he keeps an eye on them just in case.

Self indulgent thought #2: as a girl who grew up quirkless, she's def more sensitive when it comes to sa/ppl generally taking advantage of others and so would've snapped and had Mineta expelled on the first week, if not first day of class. That would've opened up a spot early for Hitoshi to join in. With Izuku's power of persuasion to wear down his i-didnt-come-here-to-make-friends stance and Hitoshi finding out that she was the reason for him getting into hero class so soon? The guy was an instant goner and never looked away since. The todoroki vs deku fight during the festival is a fixed event in my hc so Shouto fell in love there.

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder: teaser.

dad!carmy x hispanic mom!reader series teaser!

warnings : dad!carmy x mom!reader, reader is implied female and hispanic, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of childbirth. obviously.

authors note : guys i know i'm late to the dad!carmy train.. but give me a chance!!! i tried so hard to not absolutely love the idea of carmen being a dad and i failed miserably. take this as an apology. and shout out to my hispanic girlies bc we deserve some fics made specifically for us !

"Levántate, princessa mia," you gently raised her chubby arms and sat Valeria up in her barred crib, the golden finish complimenting her collection of hand-me-down stuffed animals from your childhood.

You reached for her soft beige pants that rested on her little dresser next to her crib. She'd only recently grown into it, going up a size or two now that she finally turned 8 months old. You and Carmen saw them at a thrift shop in Chicago during your, although beautiful, excruciatingly long pregnancy.

He knew he had to see his little girl in them, rocking them beautifully just like her stylish and tasteful mother.

—

"What do y'think, honey? I like 'em. I think she'll look so cute. Cheap for the quality, too. Damn."

Carmen felt the thickness of the fabric with his finger tips, rubbing them together through the cloth. He nodded his head in approval. He raised them up to let you get a closer look as he beamed with a grin.

"Oh, these are adorable! They're gonna take a little while for her to grow into 'em, though, no? Parasen un poco grande, amor."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if an article of clothing that you weren't even sure would fit would be worth 8 precious dollars in your joint bank account.

"Well, we don't know how big she's gonna be. She'll grow into 'em."

Carmen was pretty convincing. His voice soft and persuasive and his pure excitement for fatherhood was enough to reel you in to every proposal he made. How could you say no when he was just so enthusiastic?

"What about you, sweet girl? Huh? What do y'think?"

Carmen set the pants back down on the clothing rack, kneeling down just to slightest bit as he raised a hand to your belly. You peered down at him in awe, the sight of him already bursting with love for your child making you go weak.

And as if you couldn't be more angelic, Carmen thought you were more beautiful than ever carrying his child. He moved the palm of his hand into a slow and gentle circle.

The kick of your soon to be newborn daughter against his hand was reassuring. The two of you nearly gasped, laughing in unison at her comedic timing.

—

Valeria let out squeals and babbles of impatience as you rolled her little lace socks over her small feet. The hassle of getting dressed in the morning, even after she got the leverage to make an absolute mess of her onesie while she ate breakfast in her high-chair.

Even bibs couldn't catch the sloppy mush of crushed strawberries before she'd wash it down with the liquid gold that was your breast milk. Valeria had a tendency to try and bite down during feeding when her mouth was all gums. But now that her teeth were nearly done coming in, it was an even more frequent offense. It startled you every time.

You tried switching to bottles: the ones with realistically covered and textured silicone nipples with a stopper to avoid the possible spills of milk, but they never sufficed. Valeria had to have the 'real thing,' or she was hardly ever satisfied. Carmen wondered how you did it. Well, he knew how, logistically, but he knew that it had to be emotionally and physically exhausting.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm tryin' to hurry. Geez, you've been spoiled since birth, mija," you sighed dramatically, nodding your head and placing a kiss on Valeria's forehead, her hair tickling your philtrum.

Suddenly, you could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Valeria immediately squirmed vigorously and smiled ear to ear as you scooped her into your tired arms. It was like she could smell him, the way she knew immediately that it was her dad.

"Who's that? Is that Daddy?" you turned to Valeria and bounced her up and down, her little hands already flaying around as giggle after giggle escaped her mouth. Your beloved husband called out for you once or twice, quickly realizing you'd been in the nursery when he heard the sound of his girls.

"Hi, hone—Oh my goodness!" Carmen gasped, peeking his head into the heaven-like bedroom. It seemed like he was immediately drawn to Valeria like a magnet. His white t-shirt stuck to his skin from the summer heat, his baseball cap casting a shadow on his face. He almost looked a little out of breath.

He walked in while gushing at the sight of Valeria all dressed in her mothers arms. The off-white, soft lettuce-cut top paired perfectly with her socks. The white ribbon in her hair literally tying the look together.

"Dada!" Valeria pointed her little finger to him, trying to escape your embrace and jump into Carmen's arms if she truly could. She'd become especially talkative lately. But she hadn't quite figured out to greet you with a sickly sweet 'mama' whenever you came around to pepper smooches on her head and smooth, chubby cheeks. You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood beside him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Did mommy get you all dressed up this morning? Hm?" Carmen smiled sweetly at his daughter and scrunched up his nose, just to hear her laugh at his expressions. He held her close against him with his right arm so that Valeria could rest her little head against his shoulder.

"Yep, I sure did," you chuckled, letting Carmen wrap his arm around your waist and draw you in for a quick kiss. Your hand lied on top of Carmen's. Every vein and knuckle was caressed by the pad of your thumb.

"Sorry I took a while. Jus' wanted to pick up some groceries down the street,'" Carmen mumbled into your hair before planting a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for bein' with 'er, baby."

You only nodded your head, leaning into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut. Last night was quite a riot. But Carmy, being the gracious hero he often was, arose the moment he heard sweet Valeria crying out for touch and attention from her crib. That baby monitor was the only thing that could help Carmen's anxieties calm and let him sleep at night, but was also the only thing waking him up nowadays.

"We got a real princess on our hands, huh?" you smiled at Valeria, her head rested on Carmen's chest and her hand pressed against his peck. She looked just as content. Her curly hair was thick and full of life. Those Italian genes ran strong. With the face of her mothers, friends and family raved about your resemblance everywhere you went with her. But those bright blue eyes and small smile of hers? All Carmy.

"Two princesses on our hands," Carmen corrected you.

With the angelic face of her mothers and fierce, yet tender eyes of her father, she'd be unstoppable.

"My princesses. My girls."

She already was, actually.

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: T (eventual E 18+ MDNI)

wc: 1.7k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, no use of y/n

authors note: Posting this today in honor of act ii. Yeehaw. As always, thank you @ezrasbirdie for the beta and support in this (you really need to tell me to stfu about these two) and in life.

Joel once took Sarah to see PT Barnum’s Greatest Show on Earth. Each ticket cost him two quarters. She pulled him by the hand past the tents with Tom Thumb and the giantess, straight to the exhibition of wild animals. There were all sorts of exotic animals in the menagerie– giraffes, elephants, snakes. You remind him of the tiger. Beautiful and cunning. Fierce. Dangerous unless it’s kept under lock and key. 

Which is why he’s grateful he kept these old shackles in his saddle bag. 

You’re in a friendlier mood once camp is set up and a rabbit is roasted on a spit. He knows it’s a rouse, that you’re still spitting mad and hoping to slit his throat in the night. On that train, you were the demure damsel in need of a rescue. Soon as he put that cuff on your wrist, you turned into a fire breathing dragon. 

You can be as mad as you’d like. You’re no match for his strength or his revolver. 

They sit around the fire, Joel and Ellie propped against their saddles. It’s a cool evening, a steady breeze blows off the river. The stars paint the purple sky and the cave is illuminated with the orange glow of a fire. There’s plenty to celebrate. Though, even when they score a good amount of money, gold pieces, and get away without a scratch, Joel never feels much satisfaction. Despite his personal quandary, it would be a beautiful night, really, if Joel weren’t sitting there waiting for you to do something foolish. 

He can tell you’re meditating on some new escape plan, knows better than to look at you too long. A girl like you, pretty and with that sharp mouth, is the type that knows how to use her womanly wiles. You’re desperate enough to try just about anything and he’s not giving you the chance. 

You must think he’s stupid enough to fall for it too. He reluctantly passes you his flask and, after you drink, you wipe your wet lips with a seductive  finger. 

Ellie’s being a real chatterbox, recounting each moment of the robbery as if she’s writing her own nickel weekly and peppering you with questions. He’s not surprised she’s taken a liking to you. There aren’t too many of the female persuasion out here. Maybe she can see some of Tess in you. He doesn’t. Tess was always calm and controlled. And when she was angry, she never fucking spit at him. In fact, he resents you for making him think about Tess at all. 

“Ten thousand dollar bounty, huh?” Ellie asks you. “What’d you do?”

Joel’s seen more than a few people running from the law but none of them look like you. You’re no Annie Oakley. 

“My sweetheart was fooling around with my sister so I killed em both,” you say. 

“Really?” Ellie asks. 

“No,” you say. 

“What was it really?” she tries again. 

“Leave it,” Joel says. 

He’d be just as cagey about his past. Outlaws don’t live by any code but if they did, questions like that would be frowned upon. 

Ellie grumbles at him. 

“I’ve got ten on me too,” she tells you. 

“Your daddy must be proud,” you say, looking to Joel. 

They respond in unison— “He’s not my Pa,” and a “I ain’t her daddy.” 

You do a lousy job suppressing a smile. 

“So this is the infamous Miller gang? Ain’t much of a gang if you ask me,” you say. 

Joel grinds his molars. 

“We used to be a proper one. Most of ‘em are in prison now. And then we lost Tess to a bout with fever. And Tommy left,” Ellie recounts. 

“Who’s Tommy?” 

“Nobody,” Joel says same time as Ellie tells you, “His brother.”

You look Joel up and down. 

“That’s enough yakking for tonight,” he says. “I’m turning in. C’mon.” He pulls the chain. 

Ellie laughs. “I should warn you. He snores something awful.”

You scoff. “Is this some kind of ploy so you can wake up on top of me?” you protest. 

Joel’s patience is wearing thin. He’s got half a mind to turn you loose and let the wolves deal with you. 

“You can quit the belly aching, missy. I ain’t taking that thing off til you’re with the sheriff in Jackson.”

“You’ll wear him down eventually,” Ellie encourages. 

“Ellie, go to sleep,” Joel orders. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“What if I got to use the privy?” you ask. 

“Hope you like company,” Joel says. 

You huff. 

“You at least going to give me a blanket? Cold out here,” you say. 

Joel’s only got one in his bed roll, a beautiful Pawnee blanket he bought off a trader from Kansas woven with geometric patterns. He knows it would be gentlemanly to let you sleep with it but you’re no lady. 

He sighs as he hands it over. You wrap it around your shoulders with a self-satisfied look on your face. 

“Anything else I can do for you, missy?” he says with mock cordiality. 

“You can stop calling me missy,” you say. 

“G’night, missy,” he says. 

It’s not your best plan. But just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it won’t work. 

First step, you wait for Ellie and Joel to fall asleep. The girl takes a while. She’s got a dime novel with a cowboy on the cover that she flips through as the flames die down. You watch her through your cracked eyelids, pretending to have already drifted off yourself. 

It’s hard to tell if Joel’s out. He uses his saddle as a pillow and you’ve positioned yourself on the other side of it, your arm outstretched so you don’t have to be too close to him. 

He murmurs to himself. You strain to catch what he’s saying. At first, there are words you can understand. The name Sarah passes his lips. But then you hear him make a sound you can only describe as a whimper. 

It gives you pause. You’ve never been a nurturing type but it pulls at your heart strings, almost makes you want to put your arms around him. You imagine a hurt puppy inside that big, snarling dog of a man.

His sharp silhouette is highlighted in the amber glow of the campfire. It’s a shame he’s such a mean son of a bitch because he really is easy on the eyes. Then he rolls over. His unexpected motion nearly twists your connected arm out of its socket and you bite your tongue to keep from swearing. That bastard has you chained up like a dog. You do all you can to control your temper, swearing soundlessly. You can’t afford to wake him. 

You wait a long while, listening to him grunt and snore. Once you’re sure he’s good and asleep, you move. 

It’s a process. You begin by flexing your wrist. An innocent gesture that could be explained by sleepy twitches. He doesn’t stir. 

Eventually you feel bold enough to inch towards him, pulling the chain carefully along the ground. You crawl on your belly until you’re in front of him, then you dare to lift your hands up. 

The chain clinks against the buzz of the night insects and you swear it’s so loud you hear it echo off the mountains. You hold your breath, wide eyed, every muscle in your body taught. 

Joel doesn’t wake. He might be pretending but his chest still rises and falls slowly. Either he’s a hard sleeper or he’s deaf. Might be a little of both. You’re always tired after the rush of a big score. 

Ellie hasn’t woken up. Her eyes are closed, mouth hangs open. Down for the count.

You flex your fingers before you begin the next step, lick your lips and take a steadying breath. 

You’ve picked pockets before. Never tried it on a sleeping man, though. You keep your touch light, delicate, unbuttoning his waistcoat with one hand. It falls open for you and you can’t help but smile. 

The key to the handcuffs is tucked in the inner pocket. You saw him put it there. All you have to do is lift it out, unlock the cuff, and you’re a free woman. What you’re going to do after that, all alone in the middle of god only knows where, you’re not sure. But that’s not of material importance until you have that key. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip and you move slower than molasses in January, easing your first two fingers into the little pocket. Your fingertip connects with metal and your heart jumps. Pinching the ringed end, you hold on and pull. It’s awfully heavy. 

Because it’s not the key at all. You’ve fished a pocket watch out of Joel’s vest. Damn it. It’s a dainty little thing— fine gold with intricate scrollwork engraved on the back. The face is all busted up and it doesn’t seem to be ticking. Most importantly, though it’s not a key. You need that goddamn key if you want to get— 

The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked makes you freeze. Joel’s awake, dark eyes shining in anger. You’ve had guns pointed at you on a number of occasions but still it makes your blood run cold. 

“The hell are you doing?” he asks. 

“You’re dreaming,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t think that’s cute. The scowl on his face just deepens. 

“Alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender.

You put the watch back in place and crawl back to your spot. 

“Gimme the damn blanket,” Joel growls. 

You toss it to him, cowed. But what did you expect? This had never been a very good plan.

Once you hear the hammer of Joel’s gun go back into place, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s quiet for a while as Joel gets under his blanket and you know he’s laying there waiting for you to fall asleep. 

You try to settle down, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night air bites at you now that you’ve lost your blanket privileges.

“Sarah a sweetheart of yours?” you ask him. 

His head snaps your way so fast you think his neck might break. 

“You was talking to her in your sleep,” you explain. 

“Say that name again and I’ll wring your neck,” he says. 

He sounded like he meant it before but you feel like he’s looking forward to putting a bullet in you. You shiver. You’re smart enough not to say another word. 

---

Chapter 3

I'd love to hear from you! Comments and reblogs appreciated. My asks are always open!

[devildomwriter]

“…Excuse me? You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?! Just how clueless ARE you?! How could you not know?! Just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life! So, I’m going to do you a favor and teach you about TSL. Make sure you pay attention! The Tale of the Seven Lords, otherwise known as TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Christopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic epic spanning 138 volumes, and it’s the most widely-read fantasy series in the world. There are even theatrical versions, an animated series, and feature films, too. And it’s been translated into a total of 182 different languages. The 1990s theatrical version was an utter disaster, owing to the fact that they added several characters that were NOT present in the original manuscript. At the time I was like, “this producer totally needs to crawl into a hole and die!” But then the 2015 version came out, and it was AMAZING! Better than amazing! If you ask me, it showed that needlessly cramming a female lead in there alongside Henry was a bad idea. That’s not what he needs. What he NEEDS is a friend who really understands him, and the 2015 version proved that.

Also, the most vital element of the story is that each of the Seven lords is so unique. They’re all so interesting in their own peculiar way. That’s what makes TSL so great! The lords are all brothers…the oldest is called the Lord of Corruption. He doesn’t come across as being so bad at first, but he’s always plotting and planning in secret. The second oldest is the Lord of Fools, a scumbag who’ll do anything for money. The third oldest is called the Lord of Shadow, a brooding recluse. The fourth oldest is known as the Lord of Masks. He masquerades as a high-status, upstanding member of society, but underneath it all, he’s an inhumane monster. The fifth oldest, the Lord of Lechery, only ever thinks of sex. The sixth oldest is the Lord of Flies, and he only ever thinks of food. The seventh oldest, called the lord of Emptiness. He’s weird…you never know what’s running through his head! It seems most people like the oldest lord, the lord of corruption, the best. Everyone always talks about how great he is. But not me. I like the third Lord way more. Of course, I like Henry too. He’s the protagonist. He’s almost as great as the third lord. The second Lord is total scum, a hopeless degenerate that leads a life of extravagance and indulgence. He’s always causing trouble for the third lord. He’s got these magical pigs that can give birth to solid gold piglets, and he treasures them above all else. So Henry goes and talks to the pigs, and using his wit and powers of persuasion, he convinces them to leave with him. Then, he leads every last one of them away, and presents them to the third lord as a gift! Wow…I mean, they’re SUCH GOOD FRIENDS you can almost feel it! It’s enough to make you cry! Oh, and then there’s that one really awesome moment when the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just LOVE that part, you know? I wish I could have a moment like that. …I wish I could be like the third lord. I may be a recluse like him, but we’re totally different, because he’s got an amazing friend like Henry. Check it out. See that goldfish in the fish tank there? He’s actually named Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. But I cant really high-five a goldfish, can I?

The original author of TSL, Christopher Peugeot, he’s actually a human, you know? That’s why I’m so jealous of you guys. Humans are so lucky, you’ve got subscription services that let you watch your favorite anime anytime, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want… Why do only you guys get to experience all the good stuff? I mean, humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know? We gave it to you. So, why can’t we have a little bit of it back now, huh? I mean, I want to be able to go to a Japanese maid café, too. I want to hear the maids welcome me as if I’m the master of the house, and have them draw ketchup hearts on my fried rice omelette, to experience the magic of it all. I want to cosplay as Henry, and then go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. And once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super-powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it. I want to shout it at the top of my lungs!...Actually you know what? I want to BE Henry.”

— Leviathan’s longest TSL rant (Chapter 1-13)

[morallyinept]

A full character analysis on JAVIER PEÑA from the TV show NARCOS

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

*Contains some comparisons to the real life Javier Peña, on which Pedro's Javier Peña is based on.

Basic Details:

Full Name: Javier Peña

Nickname(s): Javi, also referred to as "Peña" or "Jav" by Steve Murphy

Appears in: Narcos, 2015 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 1 at approx. 31:41)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed, suspected late 30's, possibly early-to-mid 40's

Sexuality: Straight - Javi was previously engaged to a woman named Lorraine back in Laredo, and also regularly sleeps with female hookers. He also hooked up with a female colleague, Katie, and slept with M-19 co-leader Elisa Álvarez, whilst temporarily hiding her in his apartment.

Nationality: Texan, Javi is from Laredo, Texas, with Mexican roots

Family: Father, Chucho Peña. There is brief mention of an aunt.

Spouse/Partner: No mention of a current partner.

Relationship Status: Currently single, was previously engaged to Lorraine.

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: Spanish, English

Education: Presumed at least high school educated as he works for the government and the DEA as a Special Agent

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: DEA Special Agent, and later as Country Attaché

Special Skill(s): Combat training, guns and ammo, detective work, undercover work, anti-terrorism, anti-drugs trafficking, tactical

Notable Colleague(s): Steve Murphy, General Carillo

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Clean shaven face with a prominent pencil moustache

Injuries: Javi doesn't suffer any serious injuries. He does, however, endure very minor slips and stumbles when chasing down Narcos/suspects, most notably in season 3 when he chases down Franklin Jurado and jumps down a balcony, which leaves him limping for a few moments after as he runs.

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Determined, persuasive, adept

Javi is purported to be originally from Laredo, Texas. (The real life Javier Pena was born and raised in Hebbronville, Texas.)

Javi starts off as a special agent for the DEA, and then later becomes Country Attaché for Colombia, as titled on his business card we see in season 3. An attaché is normally an official, who serves either as a diplomat or as a member of the support staff, under the authority of an ambassador or other head of a diplomatic mission, mostly in intergovernmental organizations or international non-governmental organisations or agencies.

Narcos is set between the late 1970's until the early 1990's.

Javi appears to type at a slow to medium pace, using both his index fingers on the keys, and uses a typewriter when typing up his reports at his desk.

Whilst Javi tends to skirt the line of morals at times, it's clear that using any means necessary to capture Escobar is something he will entertain, and states himself, even if it means getting close to his enemies and playing on both sides. This is evident when he uses and provides intel to Judy Moncada and Don Berna, which then include the Los Pepe's murders, and ends up working with the Castaño's to get Christina Jurado back.

Javi is seen making the decision to gun down Gacha in the chopper, and states that he'll "sleep tonight" when asked if he's alright. He also shoots a man - who claims he's a politician - in the gut to get answers. This behaviour indicates that Javi will make choices that potentially risk him being the "bad guy" and putting his career at risk, in order to seek justice and bring down Escobar and the Cali Cartel. Subsequently his choices catch up with him when he's fired at the end of season 2, for his involvement with Los Pepes.

Whilst we don't see Javi physically cry during Narcos, he does get watery-eyed when talking to his father Chucho in the car on the way back from the wedding, and also when Carillo shoots a child at point blank range and Steve asks him what's going on. Javi deals with his emotions by either drinking (we see him frequent many bars and drinking what appears to be Whiskey), or by indulging in sex.

Javi appears to have had specialist combat training at some point in his career - we see him descending from a helicopter into the jungle via rope line, which isn't standard training for police or DEA, unless you're in a specialist unit.

The real life Javier Peña served as a deputy sheriff for Webb County sheriff’s office in Laredo from 1975 to 1984, and then continued his service with the DEA until his retirement in 2014. In the show it appears that Javi has his career solely in the DEA as there isn't mention of anything else. Steve states that he is a "lifer" in the DEA when they're both at the airport whilst Javi is waiting for his flight home back to the USA after his dismissal.

Javi is seen drinking coffee regularly, presumed black as he is not seen adding any milk/cream or sugar, and also drinks Whiskey. When Helena asks what drink he can offer her, he replies "Whiskey or water." Javi is seen ordering a Whiskey Dry at the bar in season 3. It appears Whiskey is his drink of choice.

Javi appears to shake and twitch his left hand fingers when he's apparently anxious. He does this a few times throughout the show. (This may actually be a trait that Pedro has himself, as he also does this for his character Joel Miller in The Last Of Us.)

Javi uses flirting as a way of persuading women to help him. He does this with Colleen by complimenting her nails when he needs her signature. He tells the Ambassador she's wearing a beautiful dress when he gets her to agree to his needs in season 1. He also tries it with Christina by flirting and buying her a drink with the intention of getting her to talk, although that goes south pretty quickly due to her loyalty to her husband.

Javi looks "after his own". He demonstrates this several times by telling Steve to say he knows nothing and that it was all Javi if Steve were to be questioned about Los Pepes. He also does this again in season 3 on the plane with Fiestl and his team, telling them that it all comes back on him if it goes awry. This indicates he wants to protect others.

Javi's dad says it means a lot to his "tía" that Javi came to the wedding. Tía is the Spanish word for Aunt.

Javi calls his father "dad", "pop" and "pops". It seems they have a good, close relationship as Chucho seems to know a lot about Javi's career, and they've seemingly had talks about it before. There is no mention of Javi's mother during the show.

Javi is generally a pretty good shot with a gun; he's able to shoot the guerrilla holding Christina hostage - whilst wearing night vision goggles, which is actually harder to do than without, due to depth of field - in the face on a single shot. However, he's not a good shot when shooting the pigeons, missing every one. He claims it's because he's never been duck hunting when Steve jibes him for it.

Javi's Smoking Habits:

Javi is an avid smoker and it appears he smokes from the brand Marlboro, determined by the box shown on Gabriela's bedside table, and glimpses of the red boxes he has throughout the show.

Javi is seen actively smoking - or with a cigarette, even if it's not yet lit - in a total of 44 scenes across all three seasons. (13 scenes in season 1, 25 scenes in season 2 and 6 scenes in season 3.)

In episode 1 of season 3, Javi explains to Lorraine he's quitting smoking as he chews Nicorette gum. However, later at the end of the same episode, he's seen smoking as he wakes up in bed with Katie asleep beside him. Season 3 is the the least amount of times he's seen smoking however, indicating he's possibly trying to stay true to quitting.

Javi mostly smokes using his right hand, holding the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger.

Javi's Lovers:

Javi has several lovers and appears to know and frequent prostitutes/hookers regularly, using them for information, as well as hook ups. This is more apparent in season 1 and 2 and less seen and mentioned in season 3. Assumed because Javi's job is more senior in season 3 and he has more of a reputation to uphold.

It appears statistically, based off of physical looks alone, that Javi possibly prefers brunettes.

He sleeps with prostitute Helena Sotomayor in season 1 whom he uses and pays for information, and it seems he does have affection for her as he states "we get better each time we practice," indicating he sleeps with her regularly. She is subsequently attacked and viciously raped, before can Javi rescue her. His first sex scene in the show is with Helena on his loveseat in his apartment.

Javi then sleeps with M-19 Militia co-leader, Elisa Álvarez in season 1, when Connie brings her to Javi's apartment to protect and hide. Although they don't have a sex scene, they are shown naked in bed together. Javi is seen discussing getting her somewhere safe, however she states he isn't responsible for her. He nuzzles in and kisses her softly.

Javi has a regular hook-up with a prostitute named Gabriela in season 2. His second sex scene is with Gabriela in her apartment in her bedroom. Prior to that, he is seen wearing his jeans and smoking at the window, whilst she is naked on the bed, assumed after sex between them, and they talk together. Javi is seen rubbing her stomach affectionately.

Javi hooks up with a colleague called Katie in season 3. He doesn't have a sex scene with her, but wakes up in bed naked with her still asleep at dawn, and smokes a cigarette he takes from her purse.

Javi refers to some prostitutes by name and nickname in season 1, "Freckles" and "Vanessa", indicating he knows them quite well when he and Steve arrest McPickle at the private brothel, which Javi swears he doesn't know about with a smirk to Steve.

Javi was previously engaged to a woman back in Laredo called Lorraine. He tells Steve that he left her on their wedding day as he couldn't go through with it, and states "she's better off." Later we see Javi talking with her at the wedding they're both guests at in season 3 in Laredo. She has since remarried someone else called Randy. Javi apologizes to her indicating he still feels remorse for what he did. Lorraine says it's taken him "ten years" to apologise, indicating the length of time that has passed between them. Lorraine also appears to have had 2 children with Randy.

Javi's sex is generally affectionate, with lots of kissing, touching and nuzzling. He does this with both Helena and Elisa, and with both these women it's indicated that he possibly feels some genuine affection for them. He has a regular thing with Gabriela in season 2 and is seen talking with her about writing and why she continues to be a prostitute. Later however, he has rough sex with Gabriela after Carillo shoots the child in front of him. He has sex with Gabriela from behind and pulls on her hair.

Javi's Apartment:

Javi's apartment is a government issue apartment in Colombia. It's on the ground floor in an apartment block.

For an in depth look at Javi's apartment, please see these amazing posts already made by @pedropascalito

A look at Javi's Apartment & Another glimpse at the details

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfits - Javi's look is styled predominantly in the time period when Narcos is set - the late 70's, 80's, and into the early 90's. However, Javi's fashion very much clings onto the 70's vibe.

He wears lots of button down shirts in different colours, patterns and fits, with some being more fitted, and other's more square and loose looking on his frame. He often leaves his top few shirt buttons undone.

He wears mostly jeans, blue denim, that are tight fitting and slightly flared/bootcut around the ankle.

When he wears a suit, it's often a dark grey, brown or blue colour or a lighter pale shade, as was the style at the time. The suit jacket often appears a little too big for him, again as was the style back then with large shoulder pads and baggier slacks. He wears a variety of patterned ties when he wears a suit. He'll also leave the top button undone on his shirt and wear his tie slightly loose at the knot.

When he's doing field work, he dresses casually in shirts, jeans, boots and jackets. He wears green camo in the jungle when rescuing Christina.

He has a black, well worn leather jacket, and also several different styles of jacket, including denim and corduroy.

He wears a plaid shirt to the wedding in season 3, in homage to his Southern heritage.

He wears boots that have a small heel, and is seen wearing cowboy boots also in some scenes.

He wears aviator sunglasses with a yellow hue lens, which was a popular look in the 70's.

Accessories: Silver wrist watch worn on left wrist, handguns Beretta & Zoraki, handcuffs, aviator sunglasses, police badge. He uses a large sat phone and then later a smaller mobile phone in season 3. He carries his cigarettes, lighter and car keys in his jacket pockets. Javi has a pager in season 1 that he wears on his belt on his left hip. He also has a brown leather gun holster that he keeps on his left side in season 1, which is seen in a couple of shots.

Javi's Shirts range in colour and pattern, yet he mostly wears short-sleeved button ups. He often leaves the top two buttons open. A selection of some of his shirts:

Javi's Jackets include leather, denim, corduroy and sleeveless styles:

Javi's Suits are a selection of dark colours and pale two-piece combos, usually worn with a white shirt and selection of ties:

Javi's sunglasses are classic yellow lens tinted aviators, as was popular in the 1970's. He wears the same pair throughout all 3 seasons:

Javi's Tac Vest is a green combat military style, issued by the DEA, with a single front holster for his Beretta. He wears it during all three seasons:

Some accessories of Javi's seen in season 2 on Gabriela's bedside table: Marlboro cigarette box & blue lighter, silver watch, handcuffs in leather pouch, police DEA badge and his Beretta:

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Javi has two primary hand guns as his main weapons.

In season 1, he uses a Zoraki 914 pistol, which is a smaller model.

In seasons 2 & 3, his main weapon is a Beretta 9mm magnum 92FS series. He keeps his Beretta in his left side desk drawer when at his desk. He also wears his Beretta tucked into his belt behind his back.

In the scene where Javi & Steve are shooting the pigeons, Javi uses a Benelli M3 Super 90 Shotgun.

Javi also uses a rifle in season 3 in the episode where he rescues Christina from the jungle. It appears to be a carbine rifle, possibly an M16 model, however the exact model is not 100% confirmed anywhere.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Javi owns and drives a Jeep Cherokee during seasons 1 & 2 - License plates are shown as REW-950, B35-17T & MOP-920. The license plate of Javi's Jeep Cherokee changes three times during the first two seasons. This is because private car license plates in Colombia were black and white from 1973 to 1990, while yellow and black plates introduced in 1991.

Javi owns and drives a 1995 Ford Explorer in Silver Grey in season 3 - License Plate BPL-729.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Javi's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Javier Peña fandom Wiki Page

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

[anghraine]

I saw a popular author post about how, while of course Elizabeth has some obligatory flaws, Darcy's are exponentially more severe, and it was like stepping into a view so far removed from mine that it was almost disorienting.

The thing is, I periodically see people wondering why Elizabeth/Darcy is such a behemoth in Austen fandom when either/both of them have substantial flaws that the narrative doesn't shy away from. Their flaws aren't identical, but they do obviously mirror each other and are thematically intertwined, with reflecting character arcs and specific beats. As I see it, the novel maintains a tense and careful balance between them—not in terms of centrality (Elizabeth's mistakes and growth are more central to the narrative than Darcy's IMO) but in terms of the weight given their flaws and virtues.

And for me that's essential to their appeal!

I love plenty of other Austen characters and relationships, but for me, personally, none of the other canon pairings are balanced in such a fun and satisfying way. The closest (and the other most conventionally romantic pairing in Austen IMO) is probably Anne/Wentworth, where at least the choices of both of them are heavy contributors to their current problems. But a) the novel is ambivalent as to whether Anne actually erred morally in the first place and b) that is long in the past by the time of the novel; the Anne of the main story of Persuasion is a fairly idealized figure by contrast to Wentworth.

I sometimes see arguments that, say, Anne or Mr Knightley or Elinor Dashwood or whomever are actually as flawed and prone to error as their romantic counterparts, but I just ... don't buy it, honestly. As far as canon Austen goes, I only really see that balance in the course of the main story with Elizabeth/Darcy. P&P loves them and holds them up as admirable (and they are!), but it also loves undercutting them in clearly paralleling ways and does it over and over throughout the novel.

So the idea of an Elizabeth and Darcy where one of them has obligatory storytelling flaws that can't seriously be compared to the other's is just ... blah. It cuts out the fundamental interconnection and resonance between them that I think is built into the structure of the novel down to its bones and is what makes their relationship special. A lot of stories pay lip-service to that kind of dynamic, sure, but despite the many (many) imitators, I don't often see it done successfully. But P&P is the real deal.

So yeah, when people are like "why do people like Elizabeth with Darcy so much when she could have a different man who doesn't make serious mistakes" I'm just thinking ... why on earth would I want Elizabeth "there was truth in his looks" Bennet with someone who would never make mistakes on that level? Or when people are like, Darcy's just misunderstood, wouldn't he be better off with Jane [or another relatively idealized female character] it's like ... hell no, I love him, but I do not want to inflict him on that poor woman.

It's not that there's something wrong with multishipping them (I've written alternate pairings for both!) or shipping them with other people, but just in terms of the novel as it exists, I do think the balance and echoes between them are part of what makes the novel work and one of the sources of their long-standing popularity. And I feel that trying to pin the "real" blame on one or the other up-ends that balance and diminishes a lot of what I, at least, find appealing about the dynamic between them.

[undertheorangetree]

The Aftermath

Summary- Near death experiences have a habit of changing relationships.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Arguments. Bigotry/Islamophobia. Discussions of near death experiences/trauma. Dark-ish/toxic Billy. Fingering. P in V sex.

Author's Note- Okay so I've never actually seen the show in its entirety because it's not available in my country so I'm working off the wikia and what I've seen in scenes. Please forgive any mistakes/misinformation, he looked too sad and pathetic not to write for. Full link below :)

She doesn't bother to knock when she arrives at Billy's flat, storming inside with little regard for his privacy. He had given her a key not long after he moved in, promising that she could come over whenever she wanted, though she isn't sure this is what he had in mind at the time.

She makes her way passed the trash building up at the front door, forcing her way inside and finding him exactly where she expects to, lounging on the couch with some football game playing on the TV. He sits up when he spots her in the doorway, the smile that graces his face when he sees her slowly fading when he catches sight of her expression. She is sure it is a storm, her anger obvious, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak first.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

He looks at her blankly for a moment before a realization seems to come over him. "Lana told you then?"

"Yeah, Lana told me. What the hell were you thinking?"

He rolls his eyes, pushing forward to grab the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and taking a swig. Her eyes catch the cuts on his knuckles, the opposite hand covered with a bloodied bandage, and watches the skin between his brows crease when the abused skin stretches. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like anyone was there anyway, was there? And you can't tell me they didn't deserve it."

"Why does it- Billy, you're not this stupid."

In all the years she's known him, she has never known him to be cruel. Quiet and insecure, surely, but never vicious. She almost hadn't believed Lana when she had called her, informing her of the one man attack he had pulled at the butcher's. It seemed so entirely out of character from the friend she had always known it nearly scared her, hearing about how he had destroyed the storefront for the crime of being owned by a Muslim family. But more than fear, it made her skin crawl, a disgust for him she had never felt toiling in her gut.

She isn't an idiot. She knows how he has been struggling lately. From his breakup with Becky to his consistent unemployment to his family ragging on him to make something of himself. Nothing has been easy for him as of late but she never would have expected him to let his rage out like this.

"If you only came here to bite my head off about it, save us both the trouble, yeah? Lana already beat you to it."

"So you don't regret it at all? Any of it?"

She wants him to say yes. And not just for the criminal record he has now contracted for it but for the guilt of screwing over innocent people. She wants him to prove that he is still her friend, to believe that he hasn't fallen down this path without so much as a blink.

He does little to assuage her fears. "What do I have to regret about it?"

Her disgust increases tenfold with that- she is grateful for it, as it manages to cover the pain of his confession- and she feels her face contort. "Why would you do it? What was the point?"

"They're the reason the world has gone to shit. It's 'cause of people like them, their whole fucked up religion. They're the animals here, not me."

She physically recoils at that, not bothering to hide her repulsion now. "Jesus Christ, Billy."

"Well I don't expect you to understand it. You're too nice, got a fucking bleeding heart for every poor bastard that walks past ya. It's 'cause of people like you that Nick and I-"

That catches her attention. "Nick? Was someone else with you when you went to the butcher?"

His face drops as if he realizes he has said something wrong but he still shakes his head as nonchalantly as he can manage. It isn't indifferent in the slightest. "Nah. Just my friend."

Read the rest here

[littlefeltsparrow]

Rhysand and Feyre offering Nesta a choice between the House of Wind and the human lands was them absolving themselves of having to explicitly state that they intended to imprison Nesta.

They give her a choice in a technical sense, when we define choice as “an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.” But, this style of negotiation Rhysand and Feyre use is distinctly skewed as it attempts to disguise itself as fair, when it is anything but that. It’s not so much of a choice when the options presented to you are functionally identical. In Nesta’s case, each option would result in her isolation and imprisonment where she would be at the mercy of individuals like Cassian and the Inner Circle.

Therefore, a fundamental question is raised: If it wasn’t a choice to begin with, why did Rhysand and Feyre frame it as such?

The answer to that question lies in the underlying facade of the Night Court’s leadership. Rhysand distinguishes himself from Tamlin by way of his emphasis on giving women free will and autonomy. While it is not the only thing that distinguishes him, it is a very persuasive quality in him that sets him apart from the rampant misogyny in Prythian. This promise of autonomy attracts powerful individuals such as Feyre, Elain and Morrigan to become parts of the court and contribute to its success and power. But, the guarantee of autonomy comes with one stipulation and that is that it’s dependant on Rhysand’s authorization.

Truthfully, any will of these female characters can be overridden by Rhysand’s say, but his facade depends on the fact that he must keep that stipulation as hidden as possible. So, he obscures this by giving people choices that are distorted or leading, absolving himself of forcing them to do what he wants while also pretending that whatever outcome occurs next came as a result of their own free will. He will never explicitly tell Nesta that he wants to isolate and imprison her, but he implicitly accomplishes the same thing by exerting peer pressure over her and only giving her one true option for her future. This strategy keeps these powerful individuals close by, but does not let them affect any change that Rhysand doesn’t want.

On the other hand, Feyre frames this Hobson’s choice as a legitimate strategy for dealing with Nesta because she most likely does not want to acknowledge that she is implicitly forcing Nesta into something. Feyre herself dealt with being forcefully imprisoned in her previous relationship, an event that traumatized her and wrecked that relationship permanently. As such, telling Nesta outright of her intentions to lock her up is something she simply cannot reckon with.

Feyre tries to soften the impact by saying that Nesta will not be technically imprisoned as she can leave the HOW whenever she wants, except she’ll have to complete an arduous climb in order to do so. Imagine if I threw a person into an 8ft deep hole and then said: “Don’t worry! I’m not imprisoning you because you can leave the hole whenever you like! (if you can climb out of it that is…)” This allows Feyre to assuage her guilt and reassure herself that she’s being fair to Nesta while also absolving herself of having to overtly force Nesta into the HOW.