#lil hint o' smut in here

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re jealous and paige blows your back out to remind you she loves you.

warning (s): literally the nastiest thing I’ve wrote — smut, strap, pussy eating, finger sucking, choking, squirting, cervix play, dacryphilia, public stuff a little, nipple sucking, degrading, spitting, humping, drunk sex, Paige literally destroys you.

word count: 3k.

author note: been havin some terrible writers block so might be last post for a lil while — unedited, this sex is just so raw nd nasty I’m sorry bro I cannot pls read at own risk

You found yourself at the draft afterparty, separated from Paige, your girlfriend, but you hardly noticed as you knocked back drinks one after another. Time slipped away as you chatted with your two closest friends, Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Arnold, jokingly referring to yourselves as future NBA wives, with you as Mrs. Bueckers in jest.

As the drinks flowed, tensions rose. You were on your fourth shot in fifteen minutes when Aubrey's girlfriend remarked, "You know, I understand why you're so possessive, girl. If I were dating Paige, I'd be on edge too. She's quite the ladies-man." In your interpretation, her comment suggested that if she were in your shoes dating Paige, she wouldn't let Paige out of her sight. You had full trust in your girlfriend, without a doubt, but it was other girls you didn't trust. Knowing Paige's attractiveness and the constant flirtation she encountered throughout her life, you understood she might not always notice when a bitch wanted to fuck, leaving an opportunity for other girls to take advantage of the situation. Spurred on by the alcohol, you staggered to your feet and clumsily balanced on the chair you had just vacated. "Where is she?" you slurred.

"Over there," Aubrey's girlfriend pointed.

You spun back around, irritation evident on your face. "Oh, hell no," you spat, contemplating. "Should I go? Imma go!"

"Don't do it, girl!" your friends called out, but it was too late. Determined, you marched over to Paige, who was seated on the couch beside another girl, chatting and laughing, the girl's hand casually resting on her shoulder as she spoke.

There was absolutely no reason for her hand to be on your girlfriend. You were gonna crash-out.

"Paigeyyy!" you exclaimed, drawing most eyes in the party to you. "What... are you... doingg, babe?"

Paige smiled at you and exchanged words with the girl beside her, pointing in your direction. However, as you approached, her smile faltered, turning forced. You hovered over your girlfriend's form, pouting down at her. "Fix your face," she murmured softly as her hands found yours, holding them tightly. Your eyes darted towards the company Paige was keeping, silently hoping that after her subtle request to fix your expression went unheeded, she'd catch the hint as you focused on the source of your discomfort. "O-uhh, babe, this is Holly. She's my high school coach's daughter," Paige explained.

You smirked, subtly digging at her. "You're breaking a cardinal rule, Paige. Didn't they say the coach's daughter was off-limits?"

Holly's response hit a nerve, even more so if you were sober. "Well, that was back in the day," she said, still grinning politely.

You smiled, amplifying yours to mimic hers as you sat down. Not in-between them, however. You swiftly settled into Paige's lap, feeling her hands involuntarily wrapping around your waist, since she was still holding your hands before you sat. "So it's changed now, Holly? You're one for bending the rules?" you pressed. "When a boundary isn't visible, breaking it becomes effortless," she smoothly retorted, a subtle dig that undoubtedly rankled you, adding fuel to the fire of your annoyance. "Well, Holly, I'm right fucking here," you asserted firmly, the intensity of your words conveying both defiance and a challenge to her audacious remark. "Safe you made it in time. It was like I had a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode," Holly remarked, subtly implying that any further delay might have jeopardized your relationship.

Before you could speak, Paige intervened, diffusing the tension as she spoke up, "So, guys. Who can forget that buzzer-beater from last year's championship?" As Holly began to yap, you couldn't help but stir in Paige's lap. Your girlfriend always looked majestic, but especially now, under the spell of alcohol. You rocked your hips forward, feeling the stirrings of arousal. You were now horny. And while tipsy and horny, if there was one thing you didn't care to respect was the conversation. So, while Paige was mid-sentence, you turned and began to make out with her, your desire overriding any concern for the topic at hand. Paige kissed back at first, but with your chest pressed against her, she couldn't resist allowing a hand to brush against it, stroking your hardened nipples in the process. When she noticed your arousal, she pulled away slightly and whispered sensually, "We'll continue this later," before unashamedly turning back to Holly, seamlessly returning to the conversation.

Later? You were a wreck. If somebody who wasn't already in the loop with all the others had been at the party, they'd surely be filming this, and you'd be looking insane. Your drunken antics drew a bemused smile from Paige as you pressed your lips to her jaw while she tried to speak, your warm breath giving her chills. She gently tried to steer your body away, to steady your hips, but you had other plans.

It was as if you had forgotten you weren't in the privacy of your own home as your hand moved to your own chest, intending to let your tits spill from your top before Paige stopped you, concealing your intent with a quick, "Wardrobe malfunction?"

At her words, you remembered she had lips, and kissed them before whispering, "Want them off," into her ear, "Want your mouth on them." Her mouth watered as her fingers helped you fix said wardrobe malfunction, giving her an excuse to marvel at your hardened nipples through your dress, begging to be sucked. With a playful glint in her eye, Paige allowed herself to be swept away by the moment, ghosting her hands over them and eliciting a hushed whine from your lips. Reveling in the sensation of your bodies pressing together, the allure of the party gradually faded. Soon, she found herself leading you home, your fingers intertwined as you stumbled through the door, eager to continue the intimacy in the privacy of your own space. Once inside, the air crackled with electricity as Paige pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. Your hands roamed eagerly over each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of exposed skin with fervent desire. "You know, I'm starting to hate Holly," you muttered against Paige's lips, jealousy prominent in your tone.

Paige leaned in, pleased, as she whispered, "Well, jealousy looks sexy on you, babe." Clothes were discarded in a frenzy of lust, and Paige found herself above you on the bed with her lips trailing a path of wet kisses down your neck and chest. With tender care, she teased your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Her hand trailed lower, down the curve of your stomach, before finally finding its destination between your thighs. With gentle strokes, she teased your clit, reveling in the slick wetness that greeted her touch. She brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a sinful groan before plunging them back into your eager cunt.

Deftly, Paige slipped a finger inside you, marveling at the way you clenched around her in response. But she wasn't content to simply watch from the sidelines. Leaning down, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with yours as she devoured you whole.

With hunger in her actions, touch, and eyes, she descended lower, trailing kisses along your thighs before finally finding her destination. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted your essence, savoring the sweet nectar that flowed from your core. With each stroke of her tongue, she brought you closer to the edge, her fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over. "More?" she asked, her voice breathy and gravelly, and you nodded eagerly from above her. "Please," you whispered, breaths catching in your throat. She smirked up at you. "Fuck, you're a slut." she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her mouth flush against your pussy, closer, for a more precise to-the-clit angle. When you nod, "I am, mommy," you watch hazily as she indulges in you, her tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path from your clit down to your folds repetitively. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Your body trembling with pleasure, Paige knew that she had finally proven herself to you. She was the only one who could satisfy your deepest desires. She wanted to be the only one. For her to eat you like this, so unapologetically, it'd stole all those seeds of doubt from your mind that Holly had planted. "Wanna eat this pussy every day," she speaks tightly against your pussy, so deep in your folds, and your eyebrows furrow at the slight pinch of her teeth against your clit. But she swiftly distracts you by recycling the saliva and wetness on her lips, spitting onto you, further soaking your already dripping cunt. The feeling of being soaked, then getting lapped up like a dog drinking water, was making your head spin. You grabbed your tits, squeezing them like your own personal stress balls, and the sight caused Paige to moan. "Play with them like that, ma, fuck." she groaned, her fingers pumping into you ridiculously nice, the perfect tempo to match her tongue work.

Your toes curled. "M' gonna—"

She nodded like, "I know," and watched as your body writhed, surrendering to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Paige, please don't stop. You're amazing, oh shit," you moaned.

She didn't. Not for a second did she quit eating you like her life depended on it, and you cried out in pleasure until the moment you released all over her face and fingers, painting her in your cum. Your stomach contracted as she kept fucking her fingers inside you, pushing it all out. Not even a second later, she had turned you over on your stomach and whispered in your ear, "Looks like I need to show you your place again, don't I?" It might have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore you had never been this horny for anything or anybody before. There you were, sprawled out on Paige's bed, your legs spread apart with her in between them, to your utter dismay, the blonde doing absolutely nothing. You felt like you were about to burst as you nodded your head vigorously, turning back over to give her your puppy eyes. "Want it, baby," you whispered urgently.

She pressed herself flush into your body, her tongue eagerly exploring your wet lips, probing its way into your mouth as you whimpered desperately. Allowing you to speak, her tongue trailed up your neck, to your breasts, and as she sucked your tits gently, you whined. "Wanted this all night." "Please..." you pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please, Paige, don't make me wait any longer," begging for what you knew was merely inches away from your pussy, tucked away. Her finger, previously servicing you, found its way into your mouth, and she pushed the long digit into the warmth repeatedly, teasingly fucking your throat as you eagerly sucked and moaned around it, savoring the taste of your own arousal. It was so hard not to give in when you looked this way—just so fucked out and slutty, when nothing had even really happened yet. Breaking face, she pressed her lips against yours, and your tongues danced together in a manner that made you think Paige was genuinely trying to receive and keep your taste, eat you alive. By each passing moment, your bodies found themselves closer than before, deepening the connection between you involuntarily.

It was half-intimate and half-raw, and it felt all the way good. Way too good. When you finally felt the thick, hard piece of plastic against your pussy, you sighed into the kiss, tilting your head back as Paige began to grind it against you. Her hand, previously holding your thigh and pressing you into the mattress, trailed down your body with deliberate intent, settling at your hip. You tried to squirm away from the feeling below you both, but she effortlessly held you there, a showcase of her immense strength that only turned you on even harder. She continued to rut her hips against you relentlessly, dragging the member up and down repeatedly with slow, sharp thrusts of her talented hips. She groaned, the dildo on the other end vibrating, squeezing and fucking sequencly against her wet, warm, tight walls. "Feel that?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" It was all euphoria—you were too spent to reply, but you managed to murmur, "Inside," Paige held the base of it with her hand, groaning your name as she watched your pussy slowly swallow it all in with her piercing blue eyes. "Look how that just stretched you out, ma, feel it," she moaned, pumping into you so hard your entire body rocked, and causing the dildo to slide past her G-spot precisely, coaxing a throaty breath from her.

All you wanted was to please her. It meant good for you in the end. She was in awe watching your incredibly tight cunt be stretched that wide, so you complied, reaching your hand down and feeling it with shaky hands. "Fuck," you gasped, "So big, baby, god." She smirked down at you. "Play with your clit, baby, let me watch you." and like a puppet, your hand falls to between your legs, rubbing yourself hastily. You're still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you keep going, the deepness of Paige's cock feeling like a punch and stab to your guts each time she plows down. But the pressure inside you and the one you delicately place upon your clit feel so, so good that despite the overcapacity, you find your other hand coming to her back, then to her ass, squeezing it as you plead, "Don't stop!" You're crying now, tears staining your cheeks, and all it takes is for Paige to really look at your face, seeing how hard you're working for her right now before the tension begins to mount. She tries to hold out, but everywhere she tries to look makes it worse. Her head dips low to avoid your face, and you're sluttily playing with your clit. At your mid-section, your tits are bouncing in her face. And she knows if she looks at you one more time, it's over. Her body falters, and she lays on you as she fucks into you so carefree of anything in the world. You cry out whinily as you feel her deeper, the tip placing kisses to your cervix, and her weight on your lower stomach pressing the bulge the strap makes DEEP.

"So good," you whimpered, clenching around her with each drag of her stroke against the depths of your body. "Take me, Paige, take all of me."

She loses it at that, growling out, "Open your mouth, sexy," and you stick your tongue out to meet a hot, thick glob of spit into it.

Without needing to be told, you swallow, knowing it's what she wants. Her impending orgasm is evident as she speaks, her voice filled with urgency. "Fuck, bae, I'm gonna cum. You gonna—" she waivers with a grunt, then continues, "you gonna let me cum in you?"

Your arousal allows her to penetrate you insanely deep, even though she shouldn't be able to on a regular, non-drunk sex having day. "Yeah," you moan, your body ablaze with desire, "fill me up."

The room falls silent, save for the embarrassing squelching sounds of your cunt. The sounds your pussy makes are just embarrassing. Like pure water being swished, and you grip her dick so tightly it burns momentarily when her stroke falters back, but it meets your guts again within no time, and all feels way too good again. Your pussy's grip on her tightens, your body craving every thrust she delivers. Paige's hand tightens around your neck, restricting your airflow as she fucks the life out of you. She is genuinely killing you. Stabs inside your cunt, hand around your neck, toned body weighing down on you — petite below her. She's relentless, her motions driving the familiar knot in your stomach to form, but this time, with a little something different about it that you just can't place your finger on. You want to be concerned on why your pre-orgasm phase feels this way, but with each thrust, you can't help but surrender further into the pleasure, neverminding it.

As your climax approaches, you're overwhelmed. Your eyes shut tightly, your world consumed by white light. When you feel it coming, you want to scream, but you can't. Before you know it, your body is involuntarily pushing, and pushing, and when the intensity stops, blending into an orgasm, you realize you've just squirted all over Paige.

She's realized long before you, apparently, because she's left cumming herself with moans and exclamations of, "Aw, fuck, baby, look at that."

You guys have no time to tell each other you're cumming; it's just wet, hot, and heavy, both of your releases coating the sheets and the both of you too. Paige collapses on you, and now you really can't breathe, so you have to use your remaining energy the squirt took to push her off, the strap exiting you with the most empty feeling ever. Your hand, still on your clit, feels all the cum, and you exhale sharply, shocked. Both of your bodies are drenched, covered in sweat.

And as you catch your breath, Paige rolls onto her side, looking at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in her eyes. "Is that attitude gone?" she asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You meet her gaze, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If I say no, will you fuck me like that again?" you retort, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Paige chuckles, reaching out to pull you close to her. "Guess you'll just have to find out," she replies, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

When you guys draw back, you're panting as you confess, "I can't believe I just... squirted."

Paige raises an eyebrow, offended. "I can. You doubtin' me?"

You've essentially been fucked back into sobriety and know not to test her. "Absolutely not," you assure her, and she relaxes at that. "You're gonna be hella sore tomorrow morning," she teases, "I literally went swimming in that pussy, deadass."

You smack her gently. "Stoppp," you protest.

She grins. "Ion feel bad tho. Maybe next time you get an attitude, you'll think about how dumb I just fucked you." And Paige Bueckers is absolutely fucking right. You will. Attitude or not.

MASTERLIST

A/N: might be some errors in posting and stuff!! i'll correct it later i'm rly tired now lol.

[ageofstarkey]

nervous energy ✰ m. riddle

summary: it’s just been one of those days, and you seek out matthéo to make it better.

pairing: best friend! (but maybe something more?) matthéo x reader

warnings: nothing really!! just some very vague mentions of anxiety related thingssss

note: another lil baby matthéo blurb!! just love-sick théo being an absolute softie for reader :’)))) also if you’re new here - i headcanon matthéo as french (hence the accent on the e!! so his name would be pronounced muh-tay-o, and théo would be tay-o bc i think it’s a cute nick name) okay okay anyways hope you enjoy!! feel free to submit hp requests (marauders or original era!! no smut!! <3)

masterlist

reblogs & comments are so appreciated <3

✰ ✰ ✰

with a quiet little sigh, you knock at the door of the boy’s dormitory. you’re filled to the brim with nervous energy, fingers worrying at the sleeves of your sweater as you wait.

after what feels like a near lifetime, the door swings open with a loud, familiar groan. matthéo stands on the other side, and the mere sight of your best friend causes you to lose any semblance of composure.

before he can even so much as say hello, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. “woah - hey” he stumbles back but quickly steadies himself, wrapping tentative arms around your waist. “what’s wrong?” his voice is soft in a way it only ever is around you, and it takes everything in you not to break down and cry.

“bad day” you murmur weakly into the fabric of his t-shirt. your voice is muffled, but his arms tighten around you in silent understanding. “i just feel weird”

“d’you wanna talk about it?”

you make an awkward attempt at a shrug, arms still wrapped firmly around matthéo’s neck. “i don’t think so.”

“okay. that’s alright.” he’s quiet for a few seconds, one hand stroking up and down the length of your spine absentmindedly. “is there anything you need?”

you sigh softly as you pull away from matthéo. your arms fall back to your sides, and you try to ignore the way one of his hands remains firmly on your waist. “can i just… stay here for a little?”

his lips turn upwards in the barest hint of a grin. “you can stay as long as you’d like.”

[abigolemess]

hobie x reader where they’re smoking a blunt (maybe with some sexy shotgunning) and it gets really nsfw really fast

YES. YES. AND YES, ANON. also I'm shit with trying to get Hobie's speech down. especially since I'm not British lol. I hope u enjoy!

P.S. its finally here ya'll >:)

Warnings/tags: hella smut, p in v, protected sex, overstim, edging, degradation, praise, drug use, a lil rough, porn without plot for sure. Let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 1K

"Pass it here, love?"

You were making dinner at your apartment when Hobie texted you to see if you were busy. He hadn't seen you in a while as you both were busy, and he wanted you to come to his place. Missing him as well, you made him a plate and headed to him. And now you are both on his couch passing your second blunt back and forth.

You turned to Hobie to see his red eyes scanning your body. His lids were being weighed down as if there were something heavy pulling on them. You passed him the blunt without breaking eye contact. You couldn't. Hobie's brown pupils were too mesmerizing. But you didn't want to look away anyways.

Hobie took a drag of the blunt without looking away. Gently, he grabbed your face and brought it close to his, forcing your mouth in an "o" shape. He exhaled the smoke slowly into your mouth before finally pulling your lips to his. You exhaled the smoke into his face after his lips left yours. A smirk appeared on his face.

"Good girl. C'mere."

Hobie pulled you onto his lap. You could feel his bulge straining through his jeans.  "Y'feel that?" You nod as Hobie gets closer to your ear. "Wanna do somethin' about it?" You nod again. "Use your words, babes." You start to grind against him, breathing heavy. You earned a deep groan in your ear right before Hobie grabbed your hips to stop you. "Whaddya want?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Please, Hobie." His tight grip didn't allow you to have the friction you so desperately craved.

"Please, what, love? Do ya even know what your beggin for?" Hobie continued to tease you.

"Please give me your cock, Hobs. I need it," you whimpered. Hobie decided to stop toying with you and give you what you desperately needed, mostly because he couldn't wait either. Hobie lifted you up and carried you to his bedroom. After placing you on his bed, he grabbed a condom from his nightstand and pulled his pants and underwear off, freeing his cock. It was hard and ready, precum dripping from the tip. He quickly put the condom on.

"Gonna keep your clothes on for this next part o' what?" Hobie teased. You quickly stripped yourself. Hobie stood towards you and leaned over you. Sometimes you forgot about his height, but right now, his frame was engulfing you. His cold, slender fingers caressed your pussy lips slowly but with enough pressure to cause you to moan. You were practically dripping and you couldn't stand the teasing any longer. "Hobie please," you pleaded.

"This f'me? You're so wet 'n soft, love." Hobie inserted two of his fingers slowly inside of your sopping pussy, curling his fingers up to hit that gummy spot. You mewled in response and Hobie smiled. "Mmm… love those sounds you make, babe." Your pussy grabbed his fingers after those devilish words. "Feels good, innit? Y'want more?"

"Yes Hobie, more, please," You began to grind your hips. Hobie got the hint and began to speed up his movements.

You were oh-so-close when Hobie's fingers suddenly went missing. A confused whimper escaped your mouth. Hobie spoke with a deep, raspy voice. "Sorry, love," he says standing up straight, "I just can't wait any longer." Hobie grabbed your thighs and held them apart. He began rubbing his cock up and down your pussy, covering him in your slick. "This is what you really want, right?" After you nodded profusely, Hobie shook his head. "You know the rules, love. Use. Your. Words." "Yes Hobie, I want it so bad." "Good girl," Hobie said as he readied at your entrance.

Hobie began to slide in slowly, easing his cock into you. It stretched you in a good way, and you moaned from the tip all the way to the base. "Fuck yes, love those fucking sounds." he hissed as you squeezed around him. Hobie's thrusts were agonizingly slow. He know how badly you wanted to cum, but he can't help but tease you. He chuckled at your pained expression. "What's the problem, love? Want me to go faster?" A sly smile painted his face. He loved hearing you say what you want, especially because of your shyness. Your growing need cuts through your humility.

"Please fuck me faster, Hobie," You responded. Hobie's smile grew. He leaned forward, slowly, getting closer to your face. As he leaned, he somehow buried deeper into your hole. "Such a good fuckin' slut," he said before kissing your wet lips. He's thrusts increased in speed; cock rubbing over that sensitive spot just how you wanted it to. You arched into Hobie as your orgasm drew near. "Oi," he grunted, "tell me how my cock feels so deep inside, yeah?" You muttered out your pleasure. "Feels good, baby, so fuckin' good." Hobie hummed in your ear. The vibrations of his voice kept putting a warmth in your belly.

Hobie used his right hand and pushed down on your tummy, the spot where his dick makes an appearance. "Fuck!" "Oh, wow, you're usin' a lot of profanities, babe. Gonna cum, f'me?" Hobie's words pushed you over the edge. "Yes, I'm coming!" you screamed as your legs shook. Despite you reaching your peak, Hobie kept fucking you fast and deep. The overwhelming pleasure caused you to try to close your legs but Hobie's body was in the way. "Nuh uh, darling. You begged for this, 'member?" You whined. "I can't Hobie, can't take it," you cried. Hobie started going even faster, bringing you both close to cumming. "C'mon, babe, be a good whore and cum again f'me." Hobie moved his hand from your stomach lower until he reached your clit. Your eyes widened in anticipation, already knowing what comes next. Hobie began to rub your clit in circles, causing your orgasm to explode immediately.

"Good fucking girl," Hobie moaned as you pulsed around him, causing him to cum as well. You both panted as you came down from your highs. Hobie pulled out and laid down next to you. He pulled you to him and he kissed your forehead as you wrapped yourself around him. "You did so well f'me, love. Maybe we should smoke together more often."

"We definitely should."

"Well, we never finished the blunt from earlier. Wanna do it again?" You smiled at Hobie, and he smiled back, knowing what you smile meant.

"Let me go get the lighter."

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

[mypoisonedvine]

32:"I wish they could all know about us." 48:"there's no way that was just a one-night thing." 54:"just one more kiss?" With Thomas Shelby, Raymond Leon or Ernst Schmidt

-❄

oh my gosh I've been wanting an excuse to write for ernst for ages!

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), secret relationship, semi-public sex, a bit of marking kink?, cocky lil shit ernst with a fluffy side

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked-- it was distracting, even though you were pretending to ignore it, and you had to put all your energy into looking like you were actually being productive so he wouldn't interrupt you.

Which, a few minutes of silence later, he did anyways. "So, are we going to talk about it, or--?"

"No," you said firmly.

"O-okay," he agreed, looking back at his own work.

That silence only lasted for about ten seconds.

"I want to talk about it," he announced.

"I don't care," you frowned, turning to face him, "we said we wouldn't talk about it. There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing?" he repeated with a scoff. "That's what it meant to you, nothing?!"

"No, I didn't say that, of course it meant something, I just--" you began, but stopped yourself when you realized what you were doing, and he smiled proudly.

"See? See what I did there? I made you talk about it," he explained smugly, "and now we're talking about it. Was that so hard?"

You wondered if he meant to say that-- to say exactly what he'd said to you two nights ago. Of course, he'd said it pretty differently then: he'd told you he was going to make you come a third time, and you swore up and down you couldn't do it again-- but then after a few minutes you were clawing helplessly at the sheets under you, sobbing his name, shaking all over. Was that so hard? he'd asked you, mocking how quickly you'd fallen apart for him.

So, yes, your heart sort of skipped a beat when he said that, and your thighs pressed against each other-- he noticed, clearly, since he glanced down at your legs and back up at you with a smile, but thankfully he didn't call you out.

"We can talk about it," you offered, making him perk up, "later."

He sighed again. "And how am I supposed to be productive when all I can think about is this conversation in the indefinite future?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know-- just figure it out, okay! We can't talk here, in case someone comes in..."

His eyebrow raised. "So that's what you're afraid of, then. Of anyone finding out."

"W-well, yeah, of course," you replied. "It would make everything so much more... complicated. And I'd never hear the end of it-- and think of how hard I work to be taken seriously around here. Can you imagine if some of those guys knew about it? They'd probably think I only became an engineer to sleep around-- or think they have a chance with me, too. I just can't handle that right now."

He nodded, stepping a bit closer to you. "You're right. I hate that you're right, but you're right."

"It's not that I'm... ashamed of it-- or of you," you offered, lowering your voice a bit. "You understand, right?"

He reached forward, a hand resting on your waist which made your heart skip again-- the way he'd held you that night, keeping you pressed up against him, touching you everywhere he could reach-- "Of course I understand," he said, breaking you out of the memory. "It's just a shame... I wish they could all know about us."

You looked up at him, smirking a bit. "Us?" you repeated. "Who said anything about us? We just hooked up one time, that's it."

His hand slid up from your waist to your back, pulling you into him. You knew you should push him away-- you had your hands on his chest, prepared to if you heard anyone coming by-- but you were too caught up in the warmth of him, the smell of his cologne, the way he was looking at you right then. "There's no way that was just a one-night thing," he said, almost a hint of anger in his voice-- of incredulousness, that you could even suggest that. "You were there, you know what it was like."

"What was it like?" you challenged.

"Perfect," he answered instantly, making your face heat up.

"Well, I don't know about that," you hummed, "there was that time where I accidentally kicked you. Or the part when you stopped for water and totally spilled it all over your bed."

"No, that was all perfect, too," he decided.

"You didn't mind sleeping on a wet patch?"

"Darling, you'd already made one."

You choked on your own throat, looking away to try to collect yourself. He smiled and used the opportunity to hook a finger into the neckline of your uniform, tugging it down a bit and humming proudly.

"My mark is still there," he noticed. "You're welcome, by the way-- for only leaving them where no one would see."

"No, there was one here," you corrected, placing your finger on a certain place on your neck, "I covered it with makeup."

"Oh! Impressive," he nodded, "I wouldn't have noticed-- right here, you said?"

His finger traced the place, and you nodded.

"Hmm, this spot right here?" he repeated, voice softer, moving closer.

Your eyes fell shut as he latched his lips onto it again, you mouth falling into a quiet sigh. "E-Ernst, I told you, we can't--"

You cut yourself off with a whine as he grabbed your hips, guiding you back to sit up on the console; your legs instinctively wrapped around him as his teeth grazed your pulse again, and he growled quietly.

"What if someone c-comes in, and sees us?" you panted, holding tight onto his shoulders.

"Let them," he purred. "They'd have to see it to believe it, anyways: how beautiful you look like this... how easily you give in to me..."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back arching when his tongue traced a line up your neck.

"I still can't believe it," he continued, "everything you let me do to you, how perfect you feel inside. It's like you were made to take me."

"God damn it, Schmidt, don't talk like that," you hissed, using a commanding tone that he was much more familiar with from you.

"Are you getting bossy now?" he noticed with a grin, pulling back to look at your face. "I don't mind. You can tell me what to do."

Your heart pounded but your brain, finally, took control. "Fine, here's what you should do: stop. Before we do something really, really fucking stupid."

He smiled a bit, and nodded. "Okay-- you're right. We shouldn't."

You sighed with relief, and he pulled back slightly, though not enough to let you get off of the console.

"But before we stop, just one more kiss?" he pleaded, giving you those cute puppy eyes you couldn't resist.

"Sure," you agreed, smiling as he leaned in closer-- but he stopped, and his hands were suddenly opening your uniform's belt. "Wh-what are you--?"

"Sorry, darling," he winked, "but you didn't specify where to kiss you. So I chose myself."

Your head fell back with a sigh as he sunk to his knees in front of you. "F-fuck, Ernst, you can't be serious-- if someone saw us--"

"Don't worry," he purred as he started to tug your trousers down, "if this goes anything like last time, it shouldn't take me very long."

[miniwheat77]

Into you. (Gaz x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, protected sex, blood, violence, (lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): Y/N has a fat crush on Gaz, but what will it take for them to be together in the end?

This a short lil story of Gaz, hope you enjoy it.

Sitting at a table completely alone was something Y/N had gotten used to.

Ever since joining this base with 141, being the only female on base was a little awkward. She hadn’t made friends with anyone just yet and spent a lot of time alone. Her sleep schedule was messed up, her meal schedule was even worse, and she was expected to work through it, as they all were. The others on base could see this. A few times during the night they’d come out into the mess hall to find that Y/N had just then gotten the time to sit down and eat.

She was a Combat Medic. Went along on missions to help patch people up, and cared for them when they were here as well. Which meant she didn’t get too much sleep. Right now, her schedule was normal. 141 had tracked down Hassan and were onto new missions. They were at a point where they could relax for a couple weeks until their next mission. Nobody was getting hurt and she was the only medic on base for now. Just in case. And the only female on the entire base. Or so you thought.

To your surprise, your Captain had recruited another female Soldier. You were worried at first, sometimes women could be a little mean. But from the moment you met her, you got along with her well. You no longer sat at tables alone, always had someone to talk to, and she gossiped with you just like teenage girls would. Something you didn’t realize you had missed so much. The very first thing she noticed about you, was the giant crush you had on Gaz. She hadn’t said anything at first, but noticed the way you’d look at him when he wasn’t looking. How you always sent him awkward waves in the halls passing by. But never talked to him. Eventually, she brought it up to you. You denied it, but your reddening cheeks said otherwise. So, for now. She was going to be your wingman.

She didn’t want to walk right up to him and tell him you liked him. She didn’t want to do you that dirty. But she had to find a way to throw hints his way. The best way to do that? Mention how pretty you are to his friends.

It wasn’t a lie, you were stunning. The scrub outfits you wore did you Justice, hugging your curves. She’d even recommended tucking your shirt into your pants so it didn’t get in the way, it was advice you’d taken. Advice that was going to work in your favor. She became friends with Soap and by association, Gaz happened to be around all of the time too. That’s where she did most of her work. She made you sit at the table with them, made you interact with them more than you usually did. When you weren’t around, she explained to them how shy you were and how sweet you were. And how “under that scrub outfit I can tell she’s got a rockin body.” Which resulted in everyone laughing, Gaz too. She was going to get the both of you together. One way or another.

“Hey Gaz. You mind doing me a favor?” She asks him. “Yeah sure what’s up?” He asks. “I’d like to check on Y/N, but I don’t know where her room is, could you go check on her for me? I have to go take over watch.” He nods. “What’s wrong with her?” He asks. “She just seemed a little anxious earlier. On edge about something.” He nods his head. “Alright, I’ll check up on her.” She smiles. “Thank you so much Gaz. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” After, she disappears. Right about now, you’d be getting undressed and ready for bed. She knew your schedule. Gaz makes his way for your room, knocking at the door but you don’t answer, which concerns him. He opens the door and his jaw drops. Your eyes go wide and you rush to cover yourself. Tugging your earbuds out. “Shit! I’m so sorry. I knocked but didn’t hear anything.” He laughs, eyes covered with his hands. “It’s okay- I’m sorry I had my earbuds in.” You blush. You rush to put your shirt on, quickly sliding on a pair of shorts that were available. “You can come in.” You breathe. “Sorry. Um.. Riley wanted me to check on you. She said she had to take over watch, so she couldn’t. Is everything okay?” He asks. “Oh uh.. yeah. I was just feeling a little off. That’s all.” You smile. He closes your door behind him. “Is something going on? You want to talk about it?” You sigh. “I really don’t want to bore you, Gaz.” You laugh. He smiles. “You can call me Kyle, love. And you can’t bore me. You need someone to talk to, I’m not busy.” He shrugs. He sits down on your bed. Patting the spot next to him. So you sit down. “I’m just a little homesick. That’s all.” You laugh. He nods. “Missing someone?” He smiles. “Yeah. My cat.” You laugh. “What, no boyfriend?” He laughs. “Oh- no.” You give him a face of disgust. “Sorry, Girlfriend?” He smirks. “No, not that either. I’m not gay.” You blush. He nods, a smile on his face. “You don’t do relationships or something?”

You shrug. “Just haven’t really hit it off with anyone yet.”

“Have you ever had any boyfriends?” He asks. “Yeah. Just one. We dated for a couple years but it didn’t work out. That was when I was young though.” He nods. “What about you? Got a girlfriend?” You ask. A pit forming in your stomach. “No. Same reason. Haven’t met the right girl for me just yet.” He laughs. “I’m sure it’ll happen for us in time Ah?” You joke. He smiles. “I’m sure it will. Try not to be so hard on yourself though. You’ve got a family here until we can get you back home.” He smiles. You nod. “Thank you Gaz.”

After you finish your conversation, he leaves and you’re left there alone. Your mind is running wild, never having a one on one conversation with him before, how the hell. Why?

That bitch set you up! She was so dead when you seen her next.

—

Riley was getting tired of this. Nothing she was doing was working. She didn’t want to do you wrong, but she was running out of options. She’d just have to do it. “Hey. Gaz? Can I talk to you?” She asks. “Yeah sure, what’s up?” He asks. “I’m gonna tell you something and I need you to keep it between me and you.” She crosses her arms. “Yeah sure, what is it?” He asks, “Y/N likes you. Has a massive crush on you, has since I got here.” He raises his eyebrows. “If you don’t like her, let this conversation die here.” He nods. A laugh leaving his lips. “That why you sent me to her room?” He asks. “Yeah but she’s so shy she wouldn’t do anything about it anyways.” He smiles. He nods his head. “Alright well.. thanks for telling me.” He laughs, turning around and walking away.

She thinks to herself for a second, maybe that was a horrible idea. You’d never get closure if you ever decided to tell Gaz yourself. She sighs, walking away. She felt like a horrible friend.

Gaz takes a deep breath as he walks away from the conversation. He'd definitely be making an effort to get closer to you. He had only ever talked to you a couple times. If you liked him, he needed to see if you were compatible before getting his hopes up.

-

Over the course of the next couple weeks, that's exactly what he does. It took some explaining for why he wasn't sitting with the guys at lunch and sitting with you instead. He went out of his way to see you in the hallways, and one thing he really noticed during this time was how sweet you were and just how much you guys had in common. You shared a ton of stories and every second the both of you were free, he was hanging around you. Riley noticed, but didn't say anything to either of you. She was scared Gaz didn't like you back and was just being nice. The more time Gaz spent with you, the more he realized just how compatible you were.

He's currently sitting in his room. He's nervous because he's definitely going out on a limb doing what he's about to do. He slides on a white shirt and jeans. Not his usual gear but he wasn't doing anything important. He slides on a pair of boots, adjusting himself the best he can to look as good as possible. When he's finished, he slides his phone into his pocket and begins his way down the hallway.

He makes his way outside, he knew you were out there. You took inventory in the storage shed for the infirmary once a month. You’re sitting down, going through some medication to make sure it’s not out of date when you hear the door open, making you look up. “Oh.. hey Gaz.” You smile. Heart skipping a beat when you see his outfit. You don't think you've ever seen him in anything like it before, always just his usual gear. “Hey.” He smiles, closing the door behind himself. “I just thought I’d ask if you needed any help. I know inventory is kind’ve repetitive.” He smiles. “Oh uh.. I think I can manage. Thank you though.” You smile. “That’s really thoughtful of you.” Gaz admires the way the safety glasses look on you. “What’s with the uh…” he points at his eyes, motioning to the glasses. “Oh uh.. I was working with some liquid medicine earlier and I always wear these just in case so nothing gets in my eyes. Wouldn’t want to have to Narcan myself mid overdose.” You laugh. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” He crosses his arms, making his way toward you. “I am, training under pressure was rough.” You laugh. He nods. “Makes you quick on your feet though. I’ve seen how fast you jump into action when people are hurt.”

You shrug. “Have to be. Don’t have any other choices.” You’re focused on something you’re doing pretty intense and Gaz smiles. He likes how much you cared about your job. “So.. what made you decide to be a combat medic?” He asks. You shrug. “Like helping people, wanted to get away from my hometown.” He nods. “That’s fair.” By now, he’s standing right behind you. He places a hand on your shoulder, trying not to chuckle at the way you tense up so much when he touches you. “Why don’t you take a break hm? I’d like to ask you about something.” You nod your head, swallowing hard and praying he doesn’t hear your gulp. You slide your chair out, and stand up. Beginning to put the medications away in their locked cupboards. “Is.. something wrong?” You ask. You close the cupboards back up and spin around. “No.. Riley just told me something. Thought I’d ask you about it.” You swallow hard. “What did she tell you?” You ask nervously. “She told me that you have a crush on me.” He smiles, crossing his arms. Your eyes widen, lips parting just slightly. “I- I..” you laugh awkwardly. He walks closer, making you back up into the table behind you. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.” You laugh awkwardly. He slides his hands into his pockets. “Are you sure? Because.. maybe I’d believe that if I didn’t see it too.” He chuckles. Closing the distance between the both of you. Standing only a few inches from you. He towers over you, making you feel small. “Look.. I’m really sorry, I know it’s wrong an-“ he leans in, lips pressing against yours. Your eyes screw shut as he moves his lips against yours. Closing the remaining gap, hands wrapping around your waist. “You okay?” He smiles. “Yeah.. yeah I just..” you blush. He lifts your head up to look at him, kissing you again. "You trust me?" He asks. "Of course I do." You breathe. He smiles. "When she told me you liked me, I was a little skeptical at first. You know I'd seen you glancing at me before but I always thought it was my imagination getting the best of me. I never thought a girl as pretty as you would go for a guy like me." He smiles. A gasp leaves your lips when he lifts you up, setting you on the tabletop. He moves himself between your legs and a breath leaves your lips. No way this was happening. He kisses you again, deepening the kiss this time. He glides his hands up your thighs, drawing a gasp from your lips as his hands crept higher. When he draws away, your cheeks are burning.

"Kyle-" You try to say but he laughs, cutting you off. "It's okay. If you want to stop me you can." He smiles. "I was just going to say that uh..." You blush. "There's condoms in that drawer right there." Your cheeks turn red and his eyes widen. A smile forming at his lips. "Good girl." he smiles, taking a step back. He picks one of them up, walking back toward you. "Did you lock the door?" you ask. He nods his head. He helps you off of the table, smiling at how short you are compared to him. He kisses you again, and the time slips on from there. Your ears buzz, you can't hear anything but pants and sighs from each other as you undress each other. When you've got nothing else on to discard, he picks you up, setting you onto the table again. He's still got on his pants, his shirt is gone. He unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down just far enough to free his cock. You slide your hips to the edge of the table. Looking up at him. "You're really sexy you know that?" He smiles. "Thank you, I think you're really sexy too." Your cheeks are burning. You're sure you'll wake up at any minute, no way this wasn't a dream. He slides the condom over the tip of his cock, rolling it down to the base. He lines himself up with your entrance, holding onto the table for stability. He looks you in the eyes, this was something he wanted to remember.

This was out of the ordinary. For the both of you. Neither of you had done anything like this before. Neither of you were ever the type to have sex with someone you weren't even in a relationship with.

It hits Gaz and he takes a deep breath, looking down. "I'm sorry." He sighs. "It's okay." You breathe. "I've never done this before." He bites is lip. "Neither have I. I've only slept with one other person after a couple years of dating." You giggle. "We'll just have to do it together than." He smiles. He lines himself up with your entrance again, tip nudging at your opening. "Look at me." He breathes. "Keep looking at me." He pants, the tip of his cock spreading your folds apart, stretching you as he slides into you. You only just now realize how long it has been since you've been with someone. He's larger than the only other person you've been with. By a lot. When he bottoms out, your eyes finally close and he sighs. "Fuck.. You're really tight." His legs weaken just a little bit, not used the pleasure he's feeling. It's been a while, since he's been in the military he hasn't had any time for relationships or women. Who would've guessed you'd be the one to change that for him. He watches his cock slide out of you, your arousal soaking him. You were really into him. He had no issues sliding into you because of how wet you were. He blushes when he sees this. You really did like him. It takes him a little off guard.

He speeds up his thrusts and you're trying to stay quiet, quiet mewls and whimpers escape your lips, especially when he slides over this one spot, and he knows exactly what he's brushing up against. He moves his hips just slightly, until he's thrusting right into it, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, earning a smile from him, that's what he was aiming for. You're struggling to keep yourself together and he admires that he can make you feel so good, and maybe it's a little selfish because every time he hits that sweet spot, you clench hard around him. He pulls you even closer to the edge of the table, sliding even deeper into you. He tilts his head back with a groan, feeling hot. His face is flushed and he's starting to sweat a little. His thrusts are a little sloppier than he'd like to admit. But he can't help himself. You feel so good and it's been so long.

He feels a knot forming in his stomach, he'd forgotten just how long it's been since he'd even bothered to make himself cum. "You're so tight." He groans, leaning forward to suck at the skin on your neck, but being sure not to leave marks. He knew how much trouble you could get into and he wouldn't do you dirty like that. Not yet anyways. He pushes your legs up, kissing the skin on your calves, an attempt to soothe you that doesn’t go unnoticed. Kyle knows a lot about what he’s doing. Pounding himself inside of you, yet still making an effort to soothe you. A gentleman. You’re catching onto that pretty quickly. A cry leaves your lips and you’re clutching onto the table for dear life as he rocks his hips into you. "Fuck- Kyle. I'm really close." You whimper. He smiles. "That's my good girl hm? Cum for me sweetheart." He breathes. He’s gritting his teeth and he's right on the edge too but he needs you to cum first. He moves just slightly, thrusting a tiny bit harder and after a couple thrusts, he sends you spiraling. He has to clamp his own hand over your mouth, your death grip on the table has him smiling. His force pushing you until you're laying on your back. His hips don't stop and he rides out your high, overstimulating you just a little bit. He smiles down at what he’s done to you. So pretty and worn out. He groans out, whimpering as he reaches his own high, sloppy thrusts slowly coming to a halt as he fills the condom, eyes rolling back and his knees weakening. "F-fuck!" He gasps, you sit up to quickly kiss him to quiet him. The warmth from him filling the condom has you whimpering into his lips.

When you pull away, you're both panting and blushing. He finally breaks the silence with a laugh. "Fuck.. Can't believe we did that." His own cheeks burn but he looks down to hide it. "Me either." You giggle. He slides out of you with a groan and slides the condom off, tying off the top and discarding the packaging and the condom. He tucks his half hard cock into his jeans and zips them up, a groan leaving his lips at the sensitivity. You've gotten redressed by now and he slides his shirt over his head.

Afterward, he sits down next to you for a while. Talking about anything and everything as you finish up with inventory. You can’t help the tingling you feel between your legs, you and Riley were definitely having a conversation later.

This was the first of many Thursdays he'd sneak into the storage room with you. Any chance the both of you got alone, you took it.

[hellfirecvnt]

•Interruption•

Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Warnings: smut 18+ (minors DNI), fingering (f), oral (m&f), general roughness, a peeping tom situation ig?, a lil cuddling, teamwork.

After weeks of flirting and dropping so many hints you may as well have spelled it out for him, Steve was at your house. You two had planned a trip to the movies, but the second you saw him, you knew you couldn't wait.

You welcome him inside, fighting the urge to pull him by his shirt directly against your body. You guide him to a living area and offer him a drink. He watches your hips sway as you exit to the kitchen for just a moment, and return with refreshments.

Steve bites his lip as he watches you sit down next to him, hand grazing his thigh.

"You sure we got time to hang out? The movie's starting soon." His eyes travel your body. He can't help himself, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap.

"I was thinking we could maybe skip the movie." Your voice is low and sultry against his collar as you kiss his neck.

"Yeah? I heard it sucked anyway." He cups your face and pulls you into a hot, needy kiss. You pull his bottom lip gently between your teeth, lightly pulling at the skin. He can help but erupt in breathy moans.

"Steve?" You break away from the kiss.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go upstairs." You barely finish the sentence before he gracefully swings your leg over him and stands, wrapping both your legs around his waist. His lips crash into yours again and they don't stop until he drops you on your bed.

"God, you are unreal." Steve runs his hand through his soft, styled hair as his eyes scan your seductive frame, waiting for him to take you on your bed. He towers over you on the bed and leans down to hungrily connect with your lips yet again, hands traveling to your belt.

Outside your window you don't hear that familiar sound you hear at least three times a week. Eddie, your best friend, scaling the lattice of the side of your house to reach your bedroom window. He knows he can use the door, this is just more fun for him.

He secures two hands on the window pain before he stops in his tracks. A sound from inside that he didn't expect. It sounded like... A moan? He quietly crouches beside the glass and watches on for a moment.

Eddie watches as Steve grins from between your legs, his hand is obscured by your thigh, but it doesn't take much imagination to know he's pumping his fingers inside you rhythmically.

Eddie feels his jeans shift as his dick hardens in his pants. He watches your face intently, taking in every little twitch of your eyebrow. He stays perfectly still, noting the way your mouth forms an "o" when you throw your head back. Your pants and panties are thrown off to the side and your skimpy top hangs off your shoulder.

You arch your body as your need grows stronger. Deep breaths leave your chest as Steve curls his fingers inside you. He's gazing down on you, staring longingly into your eyes as they roll back in your head. Suddenly, you're both startled by the sounds of the window opening.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Eddie tilts his head and gives a vicious, playful smile.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you doing here, man?" Steve jumps and pulls his hand away from your dripping cunt. You can't help but whimper at the loss of contact.

"Don't stop now, Harrington. Look at her." Eddie gestures to you on the bed. You almost don't even care if you've been interrupted, you just want to finish. "Finish her off, don't be rude." Eddie stares dominantly at you, prompting you to reach for Steve's arm and pull it back to you. Your eyes never leave Eddie's.

Steve seems shocked at first, but desire quickly wins him over as he loses himself playing with you again. Eddie slowly stalks closer to you, softly palming his growing bulge in his jeans.

"Uh, are you... Okay with this, Y/N?" Steve whispers in your ear. You recall a conversation you had with Eddie months ago about something like this, though at the time it was completely hypothetical.

"Yeah, are you?" You make sure to ask. He chuckles and leans much closer.

"I can't wait to see you getting fucked out by two cocks." Steve's shocked demeanor melted away quickly. Eddie wraps his hand in your shirt and swiftly yanks you off the bed, onto your knees on the floor. You stare up at the two men towering over you.

Slowly, they both start to unfasten their buckles. Soft chuckles tumble out of their chests as they push their clothing down and reveal raging erections. You instinctively take both of them in each of your hands, stoking diligently.

The men groan in unison as you work your hands. You bring Eddie into your mouth first, bopping your head down and removing your lips with a "pop." Wasting no time, you then do the same to Steve, quickening your pace with your hands.

Eddie caves first, aggressively gripping your hair and forcing your mouth on his cock, sliding you as far as you'll let him. He manually bobs your head a few times before pulling you off of him. He shoves your head toward Steve and you instantly take him in your mouth.

Eddie pulls his pants down further and sits on your bed, behind you. He watches as your body begins to shake with need, still hungrily taking Steve as deep in your throat as you could.

"Oh- oh my God." Steve stutters as he nears his climax just from your skilled tongue. He quickly pulls your mouth from his cock and stares at you for a second. Your eyes are watery from choking and your makeup smudges down your face. "So fucking hot."

You stand and glance at Eddie. He gestures with his finger, instructing you to come over to him.

"C'mere, doll." He speaks in a smooth, low voice. You climb up on him where he sits and kiss him deeply. He wraps a rough hand in your hair, hardening the kiss before pulling away.

He readjusts on the bed and guides you so you're on all fours. He raises himself to his knees and slips his throbbing cock in your mouth. You arch your back, allowing Steve to position himself behind you. He doesn't hesitate to slam his full length into you all at once.

"Oh my God, Y/N" he slaps your ass, "you're so tight." You let out a cry of pain, vibrating your throat against Eddie's dick. A wicked laugh leaves Eddie's lips.

"Do that again," he says to Steve. Steve smirks and slams into you again, a little harder. Earning a louder, longer cry from you. Eddie exhales sensual moans, his hands holding you down on his cock at max capacity.

Steve continues to fuck you, hard, as Eddie holds your face in place. Steady, low moans emit from your throat, causing Eddie to nearly lose his bearings. He quickly yanks you off of him and watches as Steve continues to fill you up.

Deep grunts escape from Steve as he ravages you. You feel a knot forming in your stomach, each time he slams into you, you feel yourself getting closer. He begins to mumble curses under his breath as his thrusts get sloppy. Once again, just before finishing, he pulls you away. You release a string if needy begs.

In the blink of an eye, Eddie slips his arm around you and pulls you into a straddling position. You obediently lift your ass as Eddie positions himself in your dripping pussy. You bounce steadily, sending Eddie into a frenzy beneath you. The knot returns in your stomach and you scream as you reach your ecstasy.

"Oh, fuck. Don't even fucking... Think of... Stopping." Eddie commands through deep breaths. You clench and tighten around him as you overstimulate yourself on his dick. Your hand quickly reaches out to stroke Steve's edging cock, earning a burst of sexy moans alongside Eddie's.

You bounce and grind and intently work your hand until you're nearly thrown into the floor. Eddie yanks your hand onto his cock and you stroke it along with Steve's. Eddie cums first, flooding your face and chest with warmth. Steve follows shortly after, adding to the already plentiful mess.

The three of you collapse on the floor, not even on the bed. Heavy breathing replaces any semblance of silence. Steve grabs the nearest piece of clothing he can find and cleans you up as best as he can.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N..." Eddie marveled, closing his eyes and reliving it all again.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna need a minute." Steve huffs. You finally regain feeling in your legs and disappear to the bathroom to finish cleaning yourself up. Once you return, you slump into your large bed, beckoning both boys to join you. They don't question at all before leaving the hard floor and joining you in the bed.

They take their places on both sides of you. Eddie's head rests on your stomach and his arm reaches across your hips, holding your curves. Steve lays his head in your shoulder, arm across your chest, holding one of your breasts. You bring your arm up to cradle Steve's head and reach your other arm down to stroke Eddie's hair. Melting into the softness of the bed and fatigue from cumming, the three of you fall asleep.

[goorehound]

Request from @frankenfaandom : Can I request a mary goore x reader fic where he's a vampire? Blood everywhere, him kind of going a lil insane for the reader, yk yk (smut wins bonus points)

A gift for my pal here. Not beta-read bc I didn’t want to spoil it for ya by asking you to beta it for me, but hopefully no massive errors! I did get carried away so it’s a little long. Oopsies.

Vampire Mary x GN AFAB reader, feeding, and smut. Enjoy!

Mary had been good with you. More gentle than you’d expected for someone that isn’t quite human and is entirely bloodthirsty. He’d never lost his cool, the only flash of fangs you’d seen was when he giggled to himself over some stupid joke. A good half of which you just didn’t get, and sometimes you joked that he was going senile in his ‘old age’ when he erupted into laughter over something that simply wasn’t funny.

He’d never fed in front of you for - well for pretty obvious reasons. Even when he came slipping through your window, face flushed from a fresh meal he’d still washed himself off. You couldn’t find a hint of anything abnormal, except that coppery taste in your shared kisses.

So when he downright asked for a taste, as he’d so delicately put it, you were thrown off kilter.

“Huh?” You rolled over on to your stomach where you lounged on the bed to get a better look at him so you were no longer seeing him upside down, propping your head up in your hands instead of dangling it over the edge of the mattress.

“You know.” He raised his head from where he was sprawled on the floor, eyeing your throat. His lips curved into a teasing and playful smile, offering a glimpse of canines that were just riding the edge of unnaturally sharp. “A little taste.”

The calm tone of his voice was betrayed by the way the whites of his eyes were beginning to be edged with a murky, dark bloody colour. Your head tilted with curiously furrowed brows, a crease forming between them.

“Why?” You asked evenly. And your lack of fear seemed to be what urged him to crawl up on to the bed to join you, rolling you to return to your back as he slipped chilled fingers beneath your shirt, large hand mapping over your waist.

“You smell so fucking good.” His voice had taken on a sort of growling that made your head spin, and you exhaled sharply when he was nosing along your jaw.

“Mare, wait.” You insisted, even though he had made no move to go any further than he had.

“Mmhmm, I’m waiting.” He stilled, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze and pulling back to meet your eyes. That murky colour had almost overtaken his eyes at this point and drove a thrill through you.

“Just, uh-“ You had to swallow to force your throat and vocal cords to work with you. “Just a taste?”

“Only if you want.” Mary assured you in a croon. “I wouldn’t hurt you, baby, cross my heart.” His hand released your waist to do just that over his chest.

And you did kind of want. Of course you had full faith in him, and you let your instincts be quelled by that burning want.

“Yeah.” You nodded in a bit of a daze, unable to break his gaze. That had him lighting up with barely contained delight, dropping down for a kiss that carried a hint of fangs, more or less manhandling you up to lay against the pillows and drawing a huff of laughter from you at his obvious eagerness.

“Yeah?” He parroted back when your fingers burrowed themselves deep in his hair, scraping over his scalp and drawing a pleased rumbling hum from him. Encouraging him to settle more comfortably on top of you, your legs tangling until one of his thighs was cushioned comfortably between yours. As soon as your head was bouncing in another nod, his lips were all over your jaw. Dipping down to kiss beneath your ear as you hummed and carded your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.

A soft sigh escaped you when he stopped at your jugular, feeling him inhale deeply more than you heard it. He let out a short noise and didn’t move for a few moments, long enough that you were just opening your mouth to ask if he was alright when he shifted himself lower. A searing kiss placed at the base of your throat, and your hum of approval was cut off by a prick of fangs.

They buried deep but didn’t linger like you expected, leaving you reeling when he pulled away to start licking up the trails of blood that spilled free. And the noise the taste drew out of him? Inhuman, and it pooled and coiled molten in your gut, fingers twisting hard in his hair.

He dived back in to mouth at the puncture marks, and you could feel Mary’s tongue squirming against you to bask in the flavour. Then he was sucking harder and harder, and you gasped when he swallowed hard with a resounding groan.

“Mary.” You whispered, your call for attention falling on deaf ears as he plunged his teeth into your neck again. A bit higher this time, and his fangs stayed rooted in deeply. It was different. It did not feel the same as him nicking the skin to get a taste, and it tingled like pins and needles. Like the skin had gone numb, and all you could feel was a deep pressure.

“Mare.” You tried again, turning your head towards him and shuddering when he growled out in dismay. Not keen to interrupt him just yet you let your head loll back against the pillows, feeling Mary’s tense form push down onto you as he tried to close any gaps, feeling your warmth seep into his skin.

It felt warm where his mouth was connected to you, hot and wet. The cold air was a shock when Mary finally broke off, pulling back to look down at you. The deep red had taken over entirely, so much so that the entirety of his eyes were almost black. Pale skin stained red around his lips, those sharp canines elongated into something dangerous.

Lifting a hand, the bad of his thumb ran over the marks he’d left. Slick. More blood than you’d thought.

“Don’t make me stop.” The guitarist bent his neck to push your chin up with his nose, forcing your head back, exposing more skin. “Taste so fucking good, baby, don’t make me stop.”

When his hips pushed down hungrily against you, you could only nod dumbly. Feeling lightheaded, the heat that had been stirring in you only increasing tenfold. “Yeah, yeah, please, Mare. Don’t stop.”

And Mary did not disappoint, burrowing back into your throat. Teeth sinking directly into your jugular and his thigh nestled firmly between your legs, the sensation feeling brand new. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, alive, with a mind of its own. Your fingers were sloppy in his hair and pawing down his back, pulling his shirt high enough to get up against his skin.

He was sucking hard, clamping his jaw down harder, making your back arch off the bed with the force of it. Your body was reacting as if there was pain, but you couldn’t feel it. That instinct to shove him off and get away was tickling at the back of your neck, but you couldn’t understand it, couldn’t comprehend leaving when it felt this good.

Mary seemed to agree, grunting and groaning. Pulling off to lick at your throat and push your shirt up to fondle your chest, dragging sharp teeth along the column of your neck when you bucked up against him.

When you caught a glimpse of him, he looked like he was bordering on wanting to eat you alive. In response, you pulled him into a metallic kiss. Mary’s hips ground down against you, his thigh rubbing in a way that had you keening and yanking at his hair, digging nails into the expanse of his back.

Your tongue flicked against his teeth, only aware it had been sliced open when more blood started to pool into the kiss. Moaning obscenely at the way Mary doubled down into the kiss, fingers dancing clumsily over your nipple before feeling down your body frantically. Fingers tugging and pulling until he could get his hand down your pants.

“Oh,” You gasped out, breaking the kiss to pant when his fingers roamed over you. Rocking down against them when he traced along your seam. “Shit.”

“Fuck, did that get you wet baby?” Mary babbled almost incoherently as he was peppering sloppy kisses over whatever skin he could reach. Dotting a few over your lips and groaning when your tongues brushed and he was gifted another few drops of fresh blood.

Worming his hand around until he grew frustrated, he was quickly shifting down to yank off any fabric obstructing him from reaching you, pushing your bare thighs apart as soon as he was able and your shirt higher so he could take a good look at you.

Quickly warming fingers ran along your entrance, his mouth opening as a noise got caught around his throat when you clenched around nothing. You blinked, and he was back in your space, no longer looming over you. His fingers were circling expertly and drawing a shocked moan from you as he started to leave a trail of kisses downwards, wet and smearing leftover blood, the scrape of teeth down your stomach raising goosebumps over your skin.

“Mary,” You pet over his shoulder, over the back of his neck, through his locks. Hips arching towards his lips. The man who looked up at you at that was almost unrecognizable at this point, and you were mesmerized when he shifted lower. Two fingers buried themselves into you at the same time that two fangs sunk deep into your thigh, Mary’s gaze was half-lidded and lustful as he peered up at you. His body shifting like a coiled spring when you moaned out loud, rocking against him and gripping firmly at his hair.

His eyes finally shut as he fed from your leg, fingers curling and prodding in ways that had you gasping and pleading for him. Supernatural being or not, he was not immune to your begging, pulling off your thigh to lick at where his fingers were shifting inside you. Tracing upwards until he was flicking and twirling his tongue, teasing and coaxing your orgasm closer.

“Mary, Mare, I’m gonna- oh fuck, Mare.” Your eyes closed, mouth falling open on silent pleas until you were trembling and falling over the edge. Mary’s mouth and fingers following the buck of your hips until you were twitching and keening, and he was crawling back up and taking off his jeans with one hand.

“Let me fuck you, got me so fucking hard. Driving me insane. Let me fuck you, baby, gonna take good care of you.” Mary raved on, kicking his boxers to the floor as he settled his hips between your legs. You couldn’t think beyond the way he rocked his cock between your legs, rubbing against your oversensitive clit and forcing a mewl from your throat. He gave a twitch of interest at that, and his composure seemed to crack. “Please, let me fuck you, please baby.”

Unable to find the words, you hooked your legs up around him, reaching between your bodies to take his cock and line it up.

It was an easy slide with you already relaxed from one orgasm, and whatever the fuck the blood loss had done to your brain to make it impossible to do anything but give breathy moans. Louder when he slid home, matching the volume of Mary’s responding groan.

The way he started to grind into you was animalistic, and you responded in kind - clawing the length of his back as he tried to bury himself impossibly deeper, his face in the crook of your neck. Worrying at your flesh with the blunt of his teeth and moaning.

Then he started fucking into you with passion, clearly spurred on by your gasps of shock and subsequent screams of pleasure. Every time his cock hit perfectly aimed inside of you, your mind blanked, unintelligible words flowing from your lips.

You hadn’t even noticed him latch on to your neck. Not until he was biting down hard enough that it stung, your brain woozy and thoughts unable to string together, knocked off kilter by a rush of endorphins, and completely caught by surprise when you came again. Clenching and spasming around his cock as he ground in desperately, using your body to work him through his own orgasm, another unfamiliar noise coming from him that you could only describe as a snarl.

And then things went hazy and slowly, calmly, everything went dark.

You woke some time later, feeling cleaner than you expected. But almost hungover. Shifting followed by a disgruntled and tired noise that you belatedly realized came from yourself.

There was a soft shushing as your hand clumsily came up to scratch at your neck, which was itchy. A whine when your fingers were blocked by a - a bandage?

“Settle, baby, you’re alright.” Mary’s voice drew you further into consciousness and you happily pressed more firmly where you were laying against his chest. “There you go. Relax, I’ve got ya, you’re alright.”

After heaving a sigh, you gave his bare chest a squeeze. He settled the blankets more tightly around you again.

“Must’ve passed out.” You mumbled, feeling a bit raspy and frowning about it.

“Think I got carried away.” Cool fingers brushed through your hair, and you sighed out your pleasure. “I checked you out, you’re okay. Promise. Just a bit too much at once.”

This made sense. Loosing blood and finishing twice would probably knock someone on their ass, and you couldn’t really complain - you didn’t feel that terrible, and the pleasure of all of it far outweighed whatever discomfort you felt now.

With a moment of silence, you tried to cram together your jumbled thoughts. And after coming to a consensus that made sense in your mind, turning and sinking your teeth hard into the skin of Mary’s chest.

He paused.

“Ow?”

“Had to make sure I wasn’t a vampire.” You said reasonably.

Another beat of silence from him. “So you bit another vampire?” He asked, and you heard amusement lacing his tone. Casting your glance upward it was confirmed by the smirk twisting at his lips.

“Duh.” You responded flatly, and he nodded seriously.

“Good thinking on that one. Glad we know now.” Mary planted a kiss on your forehead. “Still feeling loopy, huh?” He asked with another one of those infuriating smirks.

“Mind your own business.” You grumbled and came to nuzzle into his neck with a heavy sigh, feeling lazily over his chest and ribs, basking in the smoothness of him. Must’ve been a while that you’d slept curled around him, because your body heat had seeped into his bones. It was nice.

“You really liked that.” You pointed out, smiling pleased and giving a lazy kiss to the nearest patch of skin.

“Baby, that was the highlight of the fucking century.” Mary purred back to you and began to trace mindless little patterns over your back, sending tingles down your spine.

“Mmm.” Lost in thought, you hummed. “Seemed pretty horny for feeding.” He tensed beneath your body as you began to shake with laughter, trying to compose yourself enough to finish your thought. “Kind like a-“ Paused to giggle. “Like a food fetish, huh?”

“Jesus Christ.” Mary said. “Shut the fuck up. I like you better when you’re sleeping, close your eyes.” You snorted against him.

“Food play.” Was giggled out after a second, and he wrapped you up tightly in his arms as if smothering you with enough affection would silence you.

“My little feederism vampire.” You cackled out.

“I despise you. Did you know that?” Mary lied through his teeth, clear by the way he was burrowing his face in your hair to hide his own smile. “You’re a loathesome creature.” He told you.

“Mmm, I love you too.” You mumbled, laughter dying down as the lull of sleep called to you. Cushioned on his chest and feeling safer than you would anywhere else, even after his little display earlier. Had you not worried about actually dying of blood loss by repeating that too quickly, you would’ve recommended you do it again sometime soon.

“Bastard.” Mary replied as he rubbed his cheek against your head and began to play his fingers through your hair. He waited until you went lax, sprawling kisses over your hairline. “I love you.”

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Fifteen: Dreams and Revels

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 14.2K

CW: Explicit sexual content (masturbation, M) / blink and you'll miss it: mentions of dub/noncon behavior / Period Typical Attitudes

Being the Magister’s son, Eren finds, does nothing to acclimate him better to this kind of attention. The feast is well underway, though, and the storm of his discomfort has already passed. The worst of it, anyway; he really can do without the occasional gust.

“Here’s to the future lord consort!” a man-at-arms slurs, Anatoly by name, you whisper to Eren with the merest hint of laughter in your voice. He is a great tub of a man with a wine-keg belly and a big bushy auburn beard. It is a wonder the table can bear his weight.

He speaks too soon, as it is; Eren can hear the table creak alarmingly as the man raises his tankard to the dais above the salt, slopping beer all over his hand and the board beneath him. “You had best serve the ‘lil lady well, milord, woman’s like her deserves nuthin’ less’n the best fuck o’ her life!” he roars, blissfully unmindful of the snail shells and bits of bread his fellows are pelting at him as he stands with one foot on the buttered garlic snails. “May your sword stand tall ’n proud ‘n ne’er bend in battle!”

The storm rages anew. Never had Eren wanted to melt into the floor and disappear as much as he did then. Beside him on his right, you let out a tinkling laugh as Anatoly is helped down from the table, staggering and slumping, his face so red it is hard to tell where his beard ends and where his flesh begins. To add salt to Eren’s mortified wounds, the rest of the hall pound their cups on the tabletops, shouting, “Hear, hear!” The familiar first notes of ‘Lusty Boys to Lissome Girls’ begin to play as the musicians strike up a new tune to further compound his shame.

You can well laugh, Eren thinks a little sullenly. You are too trained never to give anything away, never to falter nor show your discomfort no matter the incitement. Knowing you, though, the titter is genuine. A new weapon has been handed you, of course you will be well-pleased; you are sure to use this against him once you resume your new game of flirtation. He both dreads and welcomes the prospect, contrary boy that he is.

For the first time in his life, he wishes he had a courtier’s face, if only to keep his dignity intact. He does not even know what kind of face he is making. A highly amusing one, apparently, to judge by your expression. And your sister’s.

“Best hone your sword well, future brother of mine,” Lydia sings after a bite of dormouse. “You wouldn’t want it to bend after the first stroke. Sister should have some joy of you, at least.”

“I don’t see how my sword is any of your business,” Eren snaps back hotly, flushing even more at the unabashed snort of laughter that escapes you as you reach for your goblet of wine and nearly spill the contents, your mirth making your body rock back into your seat. “How is your little bedmate? I hope you haven’t killed him off already.” He knows, even as he says it, how pathetic that rejoinder is. He has never thought himself a lackwit (he likes to think he is at least reasonably witty) but, gods, does he feel like one now.

Lydia smirks at him from her place on the other side of her sister, clearly in accord with his disparaging self-assessment. “Oh, he’s alive and well, brother dearest, have no fear. I keep him in a small glass bowl for now but I’ll commission a bigger tank for my rooms, to keep him in comfort. He goes by Renren now, I’ll have you know,” she grins at him, the little imp.

“Peace, Sister, you’ve had your fun, now leave my betrothed be. You’ve tormented him enough,” you chide, seemingly taking pity on him at last. Lydia gives him one last puckish smirk before returning to her meal.

Eren graces you with a smile. With his gratefulness comes chagrin, though. He cannot help feeling unmanned. Is he truly so slow-witted that you should have to resort to defending him from your own sister? Can he not even keep it together long enough to turn a phrase, parry Lydia’s words with his own sharper set?

He stamps the feeling down as best he can. He has always prided himself on staying away from the broader courtiers’ circles, away from the frivolity, the lies, the masks. Such webs as they spin with their words put him off, so above them he flies where they cannot touch him. Now he finds himself hopelessly entangled, by a mite no less, a slip of a girl not even half the match of the slimiest sycophants at court, turned round and round until his better faculties left him.

And in front of the woman who he would be equal to. He does not want nor need more reminding of how far removed he is from you, a young woman quickly shaping up to be a courtier as masterly as any of them. Much as he wants to be your equal, though, doing so will have him don a mask, and he will sooner not.

“Let’s go elsewhere,” you murmur to him, the very moment your father stands from his seat on Eren’s left.

“Where to?” Eren whispers back, watching the Lord Rhyzkov stride down to the trestle tables below the salt so he can speak and mingle with his men. Just as Father would do.

You nod to the tall arched entryway of the Great Hall’s terrace, off to the side of the spacious chamber. “The night air would do us good.”

For a moment, Eren takes the measure of you, takes in your smile, which seems to be the precursor to an even wider one, to be given to him once you are well away from prying eyes. A smile held back but not a courtier’s smile - this is all you and not the mask of Rhyzkova.

Perhaps it isn’t a matter of putting on a mask. Perhaps it is simply a matter of restraint.

His gaze slides down the smooth, naked expanse of your back as he trails your progress, admiring the gleam of the chain of diamonds and rose quartzes that traces the dip of your spine as you hail and kiss your lady mother’s cheek further down the table, on your way towards the balcony. He can be restrained. He will be your equal yet.

All at once, the gods see fit to test that restraint. The sway to your hips as you walk, that proud, confident stride that he has come to love so well is even deadlier in this dress - a charovma, he knows now, the southron halter dress that near made him groan aloud the first he saw you this night before the feast.

He had never felt so cunt-struck and so irritated in his life.

“Do you really want me to… break decorum that badly?” Eren had blurted as you sauntered down the empty corridor of the guest wing toward him, holding a crown of silvered laurel leaves studded with emeralds.

“Whatever do you mean?” you blinked up at him, innocent as the purest of maids. A maid you were, and pure, but innocent you were not.

Minx.  

It passed as a simple sleeveless vevda at the front, this dress of peach silk with its white lace paneling and belt of diamonds and rose quartzes. Would that it really was a vevda. Oh, how he wished it was a vevda. And it seemed such a safe dress, much safer than that sheer alabaster wisp of a chelya you wore earlier that day. Your breasts were not like to spill out of this one, at least (a fact he both rejoiced and regretted).

The back wreaked torment enough. He could not have asked for better fodder for his torrid fantasies. The charovma left your entire back bare, from shoulders to waist, now he knew what you looked like naked from behind. No longer would he be reduced to trying to conjure up images of your nakedness from what little had been given him. Well, not truly. But it was one thing, one sight more that was allowed him. Until the wedding night. Not even a day had passed in his stay at Arsechkala and already he had seen more of your beautiful body than he had in your year-long betrothal and friendship.

Still, he could not help feeling… baited.

He had narrowed his eyes at your impeccably artless face. “Don’t toy with me, my lady. Must you always dress like… this?” he gestured at your form gracelessly, made inarticulate by the strength of his turmoil.

The innocence left your face as the imp took over. “I always dress like this at home. I’m sorry if it offends you so, my lord, but you had best get used to it for you will be seeing more of the like.”

And more of me, your smirk seemed to say. It was then that he knew without a doubt: it was no happenstance, that you had your back turned to him when he exited his chambers. You had wanted him to see, and masked your ploy under the guise of examining the tapestry of the first Yelena Rhyzkova hanging on one of the walls down the hall.

Yelena Rhyzkova’s heir had lifted the wreath in her hands and pressed it down on Eren’s head before he could react to her preceding statement.

“Handsome,” you said, tweaking a couple of leaves by his right ear and eyeing the whole arrangement, pleased. “How do you like the fit?”

He glared at you a moment more before answering, “I like it well enough, it’s not uncomfortable.” He was no stranger to the sensation of metal leaves encircling his skull. Being the son of the eminent Magister entitled him to wear the hallowed wreath, reserved for southron guests of the highest acclaim to match their noble hosts. His noble hostess had foregone one for a simple chain of silver and rose quartz, artfully arranged over the elegant plaited knot of her hair.

“Good to see you haven’t forgotten where the podonza should be placed,” you went on, plucking at the white garment he had worn over his vevda of indigo damask with its elbow-length sleeves, belted at the waist by a chain of diamonds. The podonza was a garment of the well-to-do, a long sheet of cloth worn over the vevda (and the tube dress povevda, sometimes the chelya), wrapped about the body beneath the right arm by the right hip and fastened at the left shoulder by pins or brooches. Podonzaya were often fringed, with decorative scrollwork for the simpler palette, with gemstones for those of a more opulent bent. Eren was in no way opulent, yet the podonza he donned was dripping with diamonds to match his belt, like icicles hanging down the eaves of some snow-crusted roof.

“Told you that, did he?” Of course he would. Armin took entirely too much pleasure in telling you tales best left untold. Preferably when Eren was out of the picture. “In my defense, I’m a Midlander. How in all the levels of hell was I supposed to know which shoulder this contraption should be draped over?”

“Your minders would’ve put it on you, properly, had you not been a stubborn little mule of a colt. Not that things have changed much. Still a mule, not so much a colt.” You had him there. Not that he would ever admit it, stubborn mule that he was. “The only time we should expect to see you with the podonza fastened on your right shoulder is on a bier at your funeral.” The levity on your face had vanished then, to be replaced by a dawning sense of disquiet. And fear. “Gods forbid that time come soon.”

He had scrambled to revive your cheer but you drew yourself up, shrugging off the dread as you would a stifling thick fur pelt, and took his hand in yours. As though only his touch could drive away your troubles. You left the guest wing thus, slipping back into your comfortable banter.

Eren stares at the back of you, led along as he had been in the guest wing. It is never a pleasant thing to see fear mar such beauty yet he finds it pleasant still. It is an honest sentiment on an honest face. Yours. Not Rhyzkova’s. You are learning. You will be rid of Rhyzkova in your more intimate moments, he can see that happy prospect now. He will have all of you. Your fears, your grief, your anger, your joy and cheer and laughter. Your truths.

He will have all of you.

Around you, the feast is steadily descending further and further into uncontained revelry, as is the nature of these things. A rowdy group has commenced playing a knife game; more than one man will leave short a finger or two, Eren wagers. Yet another lot is trying to outdrink each other, to the tune of their fellows’ rallying calls. One man is already out cold and lying sprawled atop the table, beer foam trickling down his mouth to soak into his beard. The last two are well at it, though not for much longer, Eren can tell. Those whose purses rest with the beardless ashen-haired boy will find them heavier by bout’s end. His older, supposedly more seasoned opponent is lagging, lifting his tankard to his lips as if it is filled with stones and not beer; the eyes visible above the mug’s rim are comically crossed.

A man with a spade-shaped beard snatches at a passing serving girl as you and Eren draw level with his table. Eren looks away as the man pulls the girl onto his lap and slips a hand up beneath her skirts. The crash of her dropped flagon echoes in Eren’s ears as he looks elsewhere, anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

The increasingly familiar aggravation surfaces from his depths once more. He is no shy and blushing maiden boy- well, a maiden boy he may be but shy and blushing he is not. Not until you, anyway. Somehow, you manage to make him regress and dither and fumble like a halfwit loon. He should be long past feeling embarrassed by the sight of randy debauchery. He had been (vocally) randy with you, he should not be dilly-dallying between virginal and sensual.

Now that he thinks on it, though, since when had he ever been embarrassed by lust? Never. He had seen more, seen them at it in the hallways during feasts, seen stableboys tumbling their wenches amidst piles of hay, seen people fuck and be fucked by countless others in the brothels. Not once had he ever shied away.

This girl is something else entirely.

He finds himself glaring at your beautifully supple back. You really ought to have let your hair down. Or worn a robe. Or a shawl, even a podonza. It wouldn’t cover everything but it would still cover something. “But charovmaya aren’t supposed to be worn with a podonza,” he recalls you telling him earlier, blinking that sham of an innocent blink at him.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss it off you.

He is learning more of southron women’s fashions than he cares for, to be sure. They are as revealing on other women as they are on his betrothed. Lydia and Lady Theresia are both clad in chelyakin. His future mother by marriage is elegant in black; tiny rubies dangle down the fringe of the deep crimson podonza she is wearing, adding to the lady’s overall sophisticated ensemble. As low-cut as the strap dress is, Eren deems it more compelling on her eldest. Lydia makes it look a deal more modest. She has dispensed with a podonza altogether, though she hardly needs one to cover herself. Her pink chelya at least has a scooped neckline, quite far removed from her mother’s deep vee.

He cannot understand how all of that inherent sensuality in southron fashions eluded him. He has never truly been susceptible to women’s charms, though, southron or otherwise. And yet he is susceptible, so susceptible to you.

What is it about you that draws him so?

Is it that sweet and pretty smile that is the delight of his eyes? Is it that gentle kindness he oft receives from you in his lesser moments? Is it that spirit, that passion, that fire that smolders within, the true you beneath the mask of Rhyzkova? Is it all of those at once and more?

The jewels sparkle bright against your naked skin, a sight reminiscent of the myriad women he has seen clad in only such. Not one of whom could have held his attention for more than a night.

It is not the garment but you.

The orange glow of lamplight washes over him as you pass through the tall arch of the terrace’s entrance. The strains of ‘The Forest Lass’ fade into the backdrop as you progress deeper into the balcony. Suddenly, he is alone with a fae enchantress, walking as one enchanted. You lead him beneath the trees, brushing past the trailing vines, your hand in his so much smaller yet strong, firm, imperious.

He had always wondered why Prince Rodion risked all for that forest lass, Alena, who had more than a drop of fae in her, the singers say. But perhaps now he knows something of what the prince felt when his maid spirited him away that day into her bower and left him with an insatiable longing no mortal woman could sate.

What were vows and a kingdom worth compared to a woman’s love?

The answer to that verse was clear, once. He is coming to find that it is not so simple as all that.

Arsechkala still yet lives even at this hour. The Great Hall is situated away from the sea, and so the city and the surrounding countryside are your only concessions to a view. The city, indeed, has its charms, as you said. Lampposts still illuminate the slowly emptying plazas, faint music drifts through the streets from some far-off revels; even the smell of cooking permeates the air, something fried and savory that piques Eren’s interest, though he had done the feast great homage mere moments ago. Leagues and leagues away, the line of the Greatshield is a dark starless void against the vast starry immensity that is the sky.

You let him go and lean against the banister, staring up at him. The light from the nearby posts gives you an ethereal cast. Your eyes are deep pools he can drown in. And the better part of him does not want to surface.

“Feeling better now?” you murmur after a time. “You looked like you needed to be away. I don’t know which was redder, your face or Tolya’s beard.” You reach up to take his face in hand and tilt his head up a little, the better to catch the light. “Not so red now.”

Eren threads his fingers through yours and holds you there a moment, savoring the warmth of your palm, before drawing both your hands down. Neither seem eager to be the one to let go and so you remain handfast. “Is that what I should expect as consort? Seems like a raw deal on my end,” he notes sardonically.

You chuckle. “They’ll grow on you. Don’t your men treat you the same at home? They’ll be yours, too, in time.”

Yet more reminders of his subsequent role. It is a strange thought, and surreal, but he is coming to reconcile himself with the fact every passing day. His resolve to be a good consort and knight of your household returns, stronger than ever. He had sworn such before you and your gods, a thousand years ago. It was his first vow to you. So much has changed since then. The boy anxiously waiting in front of the godstone need not have worried about the lady in the red dress. You are no Elva Riehl, no wife that a man can revile, he knows that now. You are a damn sight much better, so much better.

"Being home seems to agree with you."

You smile and release his hand, leaving him bereft. You turn to stare out at your city, hands splayed upon the gray stone banister. “Does it? Well, I’m always glad to be home. It’s just so freeing. It’s like waking up from some long, strange dream… one that seems more nightmare than dream, sometimes… in the end, you’re just glad to be awake and away from it all.”

Eyes of gray glass glare at him from the darkness. He blinks and looks down at the tiled floor beneath his sandaled feet, shaken. But only your eyes return his gaze when next he looks back up again. Concerned, and not condemning. “Are you all right?” you say, cupping his face into your hand once more. “Do you want to rest? We’ve had a long day.”

Eren leans into your touch, taking comfort. He is awake and away from it all; he will not let his ghosts chase him even unto his waking hours. “I’m fine.”

The loud peal of feminine laughter spares him the need to change the subject. Some man-at-arms is tugging a serving wench into the balcony, clearly looking for a quick tumble.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” you sigh, dropping your hand from Eren’s face. “I thought the terrace was unusually empty for this time and this sort of occasion.”

You do not lead him back into the light of the Great Hall, as he thought you would. You are staring at the unheeding pair through the arched colonnade that parts the balcony in half, a detached sort of curiosity in your expression as you watch the man push his giggling girl up the nearest wall and smash his mouth to hers. Darkness swallows them in its grasp. Not enough to be free of scrutiny, though, to those most interested in their commerce.

Somehow, your composure steadies Eren in what is supposed to be a moment rife with awkward tension.

“Do you like to watch?”

It takes him a moment to understand what you are getting at. The air grows hotter in an instant.

“In the brothels, when you go with your lads. Do you like to watch them at their play?” The girl’s legs are now wrapped around her lover’s waist, whose hand crawls beneath her skirts in a trice. The shadows cloak their congress but naught else. The night comes alive with the sound of her moans. “Does it give you pleasure watching them tease, kiss… fuck whatever slut they bought for the night?”

It is obscene, indecent, improper, and yet it isn’t. It is not in Eren to squirm beneath his betrothed’s gaze. Not now. Curious. “I don’t seek it out but I won’t look away when it’s before me.” He stares down at you, quite unblinking. Steady. “Sometimes, it gives me pleasure. When I make what I see mine. When I take the place of the lads, in my fancies at night, in the dark where no one can see.”

Your lips curl up slightly. “There’s freedom in the dark, don’t you think? Beneath its cloak, you can be free with anything. Free with your favors. And your pleasures.” The look in your eyes is… riveting. It is one he has never seen there before. He does not know what it is. He wants to draw it out and examine it further, see what is it about it that makes his heart race.

The woman’s moans take on a new timbre and are soon interspersed with the man’s grunts. Neither of you looks round at the source of the sounds of loving. Eren lets it wash over him and fade away into the distance. The lady in front of him is a more spellbinding thing by far.

“Would you… like to visit the sanctum? You have yet to see it again.” The dark pools of your eyes drink in the light of the nearby lamps.

“Will we be alone, my lady? In the dark?”

“There will be lamps. Except in the corners where there are none. Then, yes, we will be alone. In the dark.”

The call is tempting, so very tempting. It will be so easy to cross that threshold into more intimate terrain. Within the night, he can find himself becoming your lover as much as he is your betrothed. You are willing, he will not need to coax you too much… you can love before the godstone and have the old gods grace your union, and afterward, he can crown you with flowers and tell you… tell you…

A frisson races down his spine, shocking him. The dream is a bolt of lightning that leaves him just as stunned as if he has been struck in truth. He curls and uncurls his fingers, and forces himself to hold your entrancing gaze.

His is a dream too wonderful and too frightening to consider. For this night, at least.

“Perhaps we could go in a less dangerous hour. With you in a less dangerous dress.” And with me in a less dangerous disposition.

Your eyes search his face for several heartbeats. He wonders what it is that you are looking for, what you are seeing. Whatever it is makes your rousing gaze lose its heat, and all that is left is soft tenderness. You offer him a hand, smiling. “In a less dangerous hour, then. Let’s go and leave them to their play.”

Eren stares at you a while, taking in your gentle face, so different from the sultry front you’d worn mere moments ago. The lights shine dully on the jewels that adorn you, on your hair, your ears, your arms, your dress. A lady of surpassing grace and beauty. Beauty most of all. He smiles and takes your hand.

An altogether different sort of scream leaves the serving wench’s mouth the moment you pass her and her lover’s little love nest. The man fumbles as she instinctively tries to hide herself, but you hush down their panicked floundering and tell them to carry on, smooth as silk. Eren has to choke back a laugh.

The brightness of the Great Hall is almost blinding after all that time spent beneath the dimness of night. The feasting and the revelry had gotten a deal more lively during that brief time you spent away. Lord Alexander had returned to his seat at the high table, deep in discussion with Sir Grisha Dunayevsky, his castellan, who had taken Eren’s seat at the right hand of his lord.

Eren feels a thrill course through him, that old thrill of seeing a celebrated hero in the flesh in the same room as him. Before serving as the Rhyzkov castellan, Sir Grisha had led the royal fleet to victory in the Storming of the Causeway during the War Without almost thirty years ago, beating back the combined might of the Cydamaic navy and the corsairs they had hired to bolster their strength at sea.

Sir Grisha turns his head to take a sip of his wine, giving Eren a glimpse of the ropey scar that mars his mouth, a relic from some hard-fought battle. The blow had slashed him open, from the middle of his upper lip to the lower right corner of his mouth. It was not a deep cut, by the look of it, yet Eren knows he had lost a good amount of teeth for his trouble. The old knight had long since replaced the enamel for gold; even at this distance, Eren can see the nubs in the man’s mouth flash as the metal catches the light.

He hopes you can be prevailed upon to… ease his way into a conversation with the living legend. He had wanted to converse with the man the very moment he learned who he was all those years ago. It is not often he claims what rights he has as your betrothed to ask for favors. Perhaps you can oblige him in this; he will sweeten his suit with strawberry cream pie if he has to.

Eren finds his wish coming closer to fulfillment as you proceed to the dais, determined to play Rhyzkova and keep yourself briefed on the matters of your future fiefdom. He cannot help but admire your sense of duty even at this time of celebration.

“If it’s not too much to ask… if you could put in a good word for me to Sir Grisha, I would forever be beholden to you.”

“You mean you aren’t already beholden? If our betrothal isn’t enough to bind you to me… why, then, should I grant you this boon, Sir?” You are smirking though, as you near the heads’ table. You give the next table a wide berth, this one the rowdiest by far. Two curly-haired lads, with the look of brothers about them, are dancing on the tabletop arm-in-arm and armed with tankards sloshing beer everywhere. Someone had stolen some musician’s fiddle and is playing a bawdy jig. The Virgin Queen has shed her silken slip to show her silken skin, the men sing uproariously as you and Eren pass them by, careful not to get caught up in the carousing.

“I would be more beholden to you than I already am,” Eren amends easily, then adds, “I can make it worth your while.” He hesitates for a fraction of a heartbeat and slips his hand across the soft, smooth silk of the skin of your naked back. Gooseflesh forms beneath his fingers almost at once, and he feels you shudder just that merest bit. He smiles.

You press closer to him as if you cannot help yourself. “I could… put in a word, formally introduce you as my betrothed. You can carry on from there.” The breathiness in your voice sounds sweet as a nightingale’s trill. Triumph has never tasted this good. And he didn’t even need to ply you with pie.

---

He wakes up hard as a rock and randy as a whore.

Eren blinks up at the canopy of his bed, dazed and bleary and skin prickling with heat. He had kicked the blankets partially off himself sometime in the night, leaving all of him exposed but for his right leg. The haze of sleep reduces him to staring blankly at his cock. Stiff, erect, and weeping copiously with his arousal.

He stares at it a moment longer before turning his attention to his balcony. Not that he can see past the pillars’ drapes, which he had drawn closed before retiring. Faint gray light shines through the fabric, slowly illuminating the room. The hour of the cow has just dawned, by his reckoning. Too early. He will not be getting up until it is at least halfway through the hour. He should not be up at all, but for that dream.

Eren runs his hands down his face and sighs, looking once more down his naked body at his insistent cock, which is quickly (and loudly) making its grievances known.

He had as well take care of it.

His own touch makes him flinch, when he reaches to take himself in hand - already, he is so sensitive, so quick to respond, it will not take him long to reach his pleasure.

It was a new dream, this one. This time you were in the sanctum, which you had shown him the day before. The significant changes to the place suit his fancies well. It is not so dark, not so wooded as before; he could see every hint and spasm and flicker of the pleasure he gave you as he loved you before your gods, who looked on in silent, benevolent benediction.

In the dream, you had slipped into the gardens during the feast, with no one any wiser. In the dream, he had succumbed to the lure, with no compunctions. It is the only place where he is free to slip into temptation. They cannot take him to task for dreams, as dreams hold no consequences. And in them, his sentiments, those newfound feelings are not as frightening and can be overlooked for something baser, more carnal, more sensual. Just for a time, just for a while.

He had you on his podonza, that white, bejeweled sheet, which he had spread out beneath you on the grass. The both of you were, more oft than not, naked in his dreams. Only he was fully stripped bare this time. That ravishing, sinful peach dress was bunched about your waist. You were nude otherwise. Your body in moonlight was a thing of immaculate perfection. In this light, you were as ethereal as a fae maid. And beautiful, as a wild animal was beautiful: unbound, untethered, uninhibited. You in your truest form.

A grunt escapes his mouth as his hand slips down his cock, slowly pulling on the hard flesh and lightly thumbing beneath the flushed swollen head. A bead of arousal drips down to further wet his shaft; he is leaking so much he doesn’t even need his own spittle to ease himself along.

For the hundredth time, he wishes the hand now pleasuring him belongs to you. You can pleasure him better than he ever can himself, he is sure of it.

You would ride him some nights, in his fancies, rolling your hips against his hard and fast and eager while he held on to your waist, sometimes guiding, sometimes holding on, merely holding on, needing something to cling to to steady him lest he lost himself entirely to his desire.

Tonight, he rode you. As he does most every time. As much as he loves the thought of you claiming him for your own, nothing brings him greater pleasure than the prospect of just bearing down on you, taking you as he will, hard and fast and eager, and having you at his beck and mercy.

Eren moans, soft and breathless, as his unoccupied hand comes up to tease his nipples, pinching and pulling one and then the other until they stand hard and stiff on his chest. His back arches a little, and his eyes, already half-lidded, close entirely. He likes to shut his eyes, likes to keep his world of sin dark. For in the dark, his hands are yours.

You run soft tantalizing fingers over his nipples for a moment more, circling, rubbing over the fleshy nubs, before lightly scratching down the ridges of his abdomen. His breath hitches and his stomach tightens at the touch, getting tighter still as your hand slips down to the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock, sliding down further until you are cupping his balls in your palm and gently rolling them in your hand.

A louder, strangled moan breaks the silence in the chamber; your questing fingers have stolen behind his testicles and pressed firmly on that spot, that stretch of skin there that gives him such pleasure. His hips rut up into his fist, and he feels himself get wetter as his cock leaks further arousal over his steadily tightening grip.

Some nights, you would leave a trail of kisses up his body, running lips and tongue and teeth across his skin until you could capture his mouth with yours and let him taste the sweetness of your tongue. The tongue he would have tasted had duty, that poxy bitch, not called him away.

A hint of displeasure bleeds through his ecstasy. His hands can do much and more in the way of sensual satisfaction but they can only do so much. The rough pads of fingertips and the scratch of fingernails are poor stand-ins for the soft wet heat of a pair of luscious lips. But they are all he has, so he has to make do.

In his mind’s eye, he can see you hovering over him, smiling that gloriously sultry smile that he has only ever seen of late. Amid the comforts of home and away from the stifling court, the passionate young woman seems to bloom. Your hair drapes over you as you bend ever closer to his face, lending your congress further intimacy.

This brief scene is not as satisfying as it could have been, however. He cannot smell your hair, your scent, your body. The token you had given him the day of the Warrior’s Tourney would have helped compound his illusions. He keeps the piece of cloth in a clean box, away from anything that might adulterate your scent. It is, unfortunately, locked away in his chest of belongings. He had not needed to use it ‘til this morning, would that he had it now to enhance his dream…

Your perfume of apples and winter roses is still deeply entrenched in the cloth, along with your scent, a scent far sweeter and more intoxicating than any fruit or flower. He would have drowned in it as you lowered your face to his and kissed him. For a moment, he is tempted to get up and fetch your favor, make all of this a thousand times better, but his hand is locked into place, he cannot get up even if he wants to. And does he want to?

So, again and as always, he has to make do.

It is not your favor that drives him closer to bliss. Suddenly, he can smell your drying sheet, and the memory of the sensation hits him hard as a charging bull. His mouth is moving against yours, yet the taste of air is the only thing he knows. But he can smell your hair, your scent, your body, the essence of you you had left behind on your linen, stronger and more intense than it is on your favor.

He is bearing down on you all at once, back in the sanctum, back in the dream of the night. It is easier to imagine how you’d look now, with all the glimpses he’d had the past couple of days. Your breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts while he ruts into you madly, hands tight around your lush hips as he presses you down against the ground for better leverage. You are gasping for breath, fingers twisted in the white of his podonza, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

His hand picks up pace around his cock, his thumb rubbing over his dribbling slit, once, twice; his fist is slathered with his arousal, making him slip easily through his steadily tightening grip. The wet slaps of flesh on flesh are all the sound in the room, interspersed with his pants and pleasured groans.

White-hot embers begin to flare up in the base of his stomach, but he is not there yet, still he wants more, wants to further play with this pretty spectre he has conjured and bring you to your own peak…

He bends down and takes a nipple between his lips, suckling hard, flicking his tongue over and around the nub so he can further draw out your moans. You oblige him so eagerly, your back curving into a beautiful arc. The most sinful moan sanctifies these sacred grounds; never has he heard a sound so divine. Your hands come up to run through his hair as he moves to worship the other breast, pressing him close, closer, as close as you can to your yearning flesh.

His hands slide down, from your waist to your thighs. Your skin slips beneath his fingertips, the softest, finest silk he has ever felt, until he is hooking his arms beneath your knees and rearing up between your legs, lifting you a little so you can take him better as he starts pounding harder, faster, hips slamming into yours with wild, frenzied strokes.

Loud cries and whines take the place of your moans, blending in perfect accord with his groans and grunts and the wet slaps of flesh on flesh. Wind sweeps through the sanctum, proof of the gods’ favor, but he cannot feel the gentle cooling touch on his skin. It is so hot, he is burning, burning, and he is glad to burn, fire has never felt this good…

His hips are twitching, wanting more than his hand, wanting more than the tightness it can give him, wanting more than his own wetness. He wants to thrust into the real you and not this spectre, feel how tight you truly are and how wet, have the truth of that pleasure that is so acclaimed of his friends and that he can never get from any other because they will never be good enough, never enough.

Eren tightens and loosens his grip around his cock as he pumps himself faster, an attempt to mimic the sensations of a woman’s cunt at her peak, that most maddening, pleasurable sensation that they spoke of, of your tight, wet, and warm walls massaging his shaft as it strove to bring him to complete and utter euphoria.

His cock throbs; close, he is so close, his hips are moving erratically, so out of his control as he thrusts into his jerking fist, panting and moaning and chanting out your name, the most lustful hymn, the most sinful of prayers.

You are a crumbling mess beneath him, clawing at his chest, crying out and sobbing from the strength of your pleasure, your body near folded in half while he continues his rut, grinding, slamming his cock into your sweet, wet cunt. Your ankles are now draped over his shoulders, toes curling as your peak comes barreling closer, ever closer. You chant your own hymn and call out for him desperately, “Eren, Eren, Eren,” begging, pleading for your climax, let me come, please, please, please…

Hot, sticky spend coats his hand and splatters all over his chest and stomach as he reaches his pleasure with a loud cry, almost screaming his ecstasy into the silent chambers. His back arches, fire lancing up his spine and white heat engulfing him, and for a thousand years, he stays there, drowning in the fount of rapture that is his lady.

Seed still leaks from his swollen tip as he comes to bit by bit. His hips continue to thrust until pleasure becomes too much like pain and his movements slow to a stop. Eren releases his softening cock, letting out a satisfied huff of air. His torso is slick with sweat and spattered with spend but the familiar haze of sated pleasure is stealing over him, leaving him heavy-limbed upon his bed, too sleepy to clean himself off.

His seed will look better dripping down your cunt, he thinks, running a finger absently through a milk-white puddle pooled in the creases of his muscled abdomen. It will be proof of his presence, that he had been in you, had taken you in all the ways you could be taken. He will be secure in the knowledge that you are his in every sense. And he will not need to clean himself up. Stones weigh down his eyelids.

The man glares at him from the dark, eyes wide and gray and glassy. And filled with terrible anger. Eren jolts awake, heart hammering. He stares up at the bed’s dark canopy, suddenly averse to turning his head and looking round the room, dreading the sight of glass eyes staring back at him from the dark.

Contempt for his fear rises in him several heartbeats later. He is the Knight of Highridge, blood of Godfrey the Loyal and the Falcon Knights, a Falcon Knight himself, ghosts have no hold over the likes of him.

He turns his head almost defiantly, daring them to haunt him in his waking hours. They do not dare. Not today. It is lighter now than it had been before, and the muted illumination reveals nothing and no one. No vengeful man, no mournful boy, no accusing gray eyes. He is alone. As he should be.

Sleep has well and truly deserted him. He had as well get up. Perhaps you will be awake by now. The Alyfeis is today, he remembers with a happy jolt. The prospect of enjoying the day’s revels makes him shoot up from bed. He grimaces at the dirty, sticky feeling of dried seed on his skin and resolves at once to wash.

With his revulsion comes some amusement, though. Once, he would have been mortified facing you after what he’d just done. He had fucked himself to you so many times, shame is beyond him at this point. Now you know, beyond all doubt. And seem to love the idea. That is the best thing by far.

Eren stands from the bed and glances down at the emerald sheets. He will not need to launder them himself this time, he notes, pleased. That is the only thing that gives him some measure of embarrassment for his deeds. There is something so discomforting about servants being privy to his desires; it does not bother him overmuch nowadays, yet having control over who he welcomes into that part of his life gives him ease.

He pads naked toward the pillars and pulls back the drapes. Gray is leaching out of the world, leaving only color. Duns and browns and whites and reds. Blues and greens. That most of all. He breathes in the salt morning air, feeling the brief horror of the dawn vanish like the mists of morn. The day is promising to be a good one. Perhaps it can lead into the night. With any luck, he will dream of you again.

To dream of you every night will be sweet. Desire is always better than the dead, after all.

Dearest Miks,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am doing all right, thank you for asking. It is so strange to see the palace this empty and the court nonexistent, the place is so much larger without people in it.

It’s boring without all of you in here. I thought being a Guardsman would be a lot more exciting than this but all we do is stand by doors and stare down corridors. It is an honorable post, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t expect the slow times to be so… slow. At least Bertolt is with me, having a friendly face around makes it better. I’ve never truly appreciated the chap until now, I’m glad to have him as a sworn brother.

Speaking of brothers, I can’t believe I can call Sir Levi and Sir Erwin that. I still feel like a squire around them half the time… maybe because I’m the youngest of the bunch. Can’t say I like the feeling. I’ll work hard to show everyone I earned this, I’ll be a proper Guardsman in time, they’ll see!

I miss you and Karanes. Even Martin, even though he is a little snot. I’ll make a fine knight of him, between the two of us House Springer will rise to the skies!

Training is deadly dull without you here. Is it the same for you there without your trusty and ever-loyal Connie? Best keep your skills sharp, you’ll need it when next we cross swords. This’ll be the year I will finally throw you down, mark my words.

I hope you get this before the Alyfeis. I hope the Alyfeis here is as fun as it is back there. Thank the gods we’re allowed some fun. Just have to endure a couple of hours of guard duty and I’ll be free to frolic. I would say don’t frolic too hard without me but I know who I’m talking to, I’ll have no fear of that. I don’t think you can say the same for me, though, you know how Sasha is. Bless her.

Please write me. The occasional friendly word would do wonders. Really looking forward to the winter reconvene and seeing everyone’s mugs again.

All the best,

Connie

The letter had come as quite a surprise. A pleasant one, at that. Connie Springer, lowbrow, practically unlettered Connie Springer, is writing her. Mikasa places the missive on her desk, smiling to herself. It must be drearier in Midford during the reprieve than first she’d thought. The plaintive note to his last paragraph tugs at her heart. Is it truly that bad? She reaches for a fresh sheet of parchment and her quill.

A soft tap sounds on the wall beside the entrance to her bedchamber. “Come,” she calls out, lowering her hand.

Louise Ledovskoya brushes back the dark blue velvet curtains that serve as the room’s doors and steps in. She bows her blonde head. “My lady. I am come to dress you for the rite.”

“Of course.” Is it that time already? Mikasa turns her head about to glance down the mullioned window behind her. It would seem so. Cityfolk swarm the streets of the capital below, headed in the same general direction, toward the temple of the Gardener. From the vantage of her tower bedroom, the lively masses are no more than ants trooping back into their hill, come home after a day’s work done in the fields. There is no work to be had for the day, though, and the human swarm is off to worship and make merry; home is far from anyone’s mind.

Not from Connie’s, however. The scrap of parchment lying on her desk seems a dejected thing, and Mikasa feels the weight of it on her back as she leaves her bedroom for the bath. She feels a twinge of guilt. She must needs answer at the best opportunity. Tonight, after the festivities. First, she must give the gods their due.

Her new handmaid is a chipper thing, and chatty, quite unlike the lass before. The Neven girl had been passable as handmaids went, and served her well and ably for three years. She would have served for longer were it not for her light fingers. A chambermaid had caught her filching Mikasa’s jewels earlier in the year, and so she was dismissed, sent home in utter disgrace. Mikasa has never been a flashy girl, and could care little and less for the lost jewels, but thievery is thievery and should be punished in due course. It is the principle of the thing.

“Finished, my lady.” The new girl - Louise - steps back as she finishes the intricate task of clipping Mikasa’s veil to the back of her head. She glances at her reflection. A proper little lady gowned in copper and salmon stares back at her. The future Lady Ackerman, Lady of Karanes. The Shieldmaiden is nowhere in sight.

She stands from the vanity and straightens the sheer silk of the split sleeves that trail down her gown from the elbows. “Let’s go.” She does not deign to grace the painted stranger in the mirror another glance.

This year’s Alyfeis is already proving to be quite extraordinary. Lord Ludwig Ledovskoy is standing beside her lord father on the pulpit of the temple balcony, quite unmindful of the pointed stares and whispers coming from the floor below as the commons gossip amidst the ongoing rite. The more politically savvy ones have heard of the Lord of Ajdoje’s visit and know what that entails.

The scent of burning produce drifts up to the Ackermans on the gallery, where they always observe the rite, the better to have some privacy. Still the commons whisper even as the Bailiff’s voice echoes throughout the building to consecrate the year’s sacrifice and plead with the gods for another year of great bounty. Lord Lukas merely stares at the proceedings, seeming far away. Lord Ludwig is as stern and tight-lipped as he usually is.

Only Mother seems to disapprove of the buzzing impropriety. It is a comically ironic thing that a foreigner would find more offense in the blatant irreverence breaking out within these holy grounds. Especially considering she shouldn’t give a fig about a faith not her own. But so it is with the Lady Otsune, Azumabito as was, Ackerman now. And she has been for twenty-odd years; a developed attachment for the mores of her new home is only to be expected.

Mikasa wonders how they celebrate the harvest in Hizuru. Perhaps it is a festival of great beauty, like the Feast of Flowers. Her parents took a brief tour of Hizuru a year after she entered court, and they had brought her along. They had gone in the spring, in time for the feast. It was the most magical feast she had ever attended. She never knew that flowers could be so… beautiful.  

They never seem to be, at home. They make a riot of color, true enough, reds and whites and yellows, purples and blues, endless, endless pink. Yet it was only in her mother’s motherland that she had ever truly appreciated them. Lovayan cherry trees are not half so enchanting as the ones in Hizuru. They had sat beneath them on blankets, eating local delicacies and drinking local vintages. All the while the petals fell, those pale pink snowflakes that were never cold to the touch. Around them, the Hizurites would whisper, only whisper, all reluctant to break the spell of the moment with noise and volume.

The whispers here sound a deal less reverent. Those and stares follow them to the Bulwark. Mikasa trots astride her piebald palfrey Mitsu, keeping pace with her mother’s litter as their small party navigates Middelfoort’s busy cobbled streets. All and sundry stare them out of countenance. The festival commences as it should, with plays and entertainments, music and dancing and laughter and flowers, with the trade and display of the best of the harvest.

But alongside the beets and carrots and peaches and pears comes a different sort of crop. The best of the gossip is on sale as well, prompted by the highborn passing. Everywhere they turn, only one thing seems to be in everyone’s minds. Mikasa wonders if they would have attracted half the attention they are getting now without their honored guest tipping the scales, as it is.

There he sits atop one of the biggest destriers she has yet seen, a massive dark bay beast with powerful flanks, conversing with her father with no more care for the eyes around him as he would a fly buzzing about his ear. His standard flies before him carried by a bearer, a teal banner with the red fess of his House. The Ackerman pennant is not to be outdone beside his. There it flies in the hands of another bearer, the three longswords of Ackerman crossed upon its blue field, the proud and ancient sigil of a proud and ancient House.

‘Swords, swords, swords,’ Mikasa seems to hear everywhere, at every turn and corner, until it begins to sound like a call to arms, a demand for Lord Ackerman to call the banners and ride to northern aid. Middelfoorters are hardly the most war-like of people; the whispers sound more conspiratorial than anything, curious, even excited at the thought of what these northmen could want, if Lord Ackerman will raise swords.

This is why Ledovskoy is here, she knows. To tell Father of the Ajdine clamor and their discontent with how the Zhelevic were treated. These northmen seem an intimate bunch. Wrong one and you wrong all. In many ways, there is something admirable in that. Many will call it prickly, though. And it is one of the many reasons the rest of the realm takes issue with the North.

The crowd that tailed them from the temple has grown larger and is growing larger still as they near the Bulwark. These will settle on the bridge and one of the courtyards of the castle to prepare for the harvest feast and further sell their produce. Many and more will wait for the autumn audience, to be held later in the afternoon. Here they will offer Lord Lukas the pick of their crops and perhaps bring forth a petition to be settled. The evening is reserved for the harvest feast, one in the castle for the highborn and their household, the other for the commons down in the courtyard.

Father is having little joy of this year’s festival. He had spent the entirety of the audience only half in attendance, absently dispensing his judgements as he pondered other, more pressing matters.

Now, Mikasa sits quietly listening in as Lord Ludwig apprises Father of the building malcontent of his commons, reassuring his liege that he is doing all he can to stem their mutinous flow.

Some assistance will not be unwelcome, says the Ledovskoy lord, him with his hard, lined face with the square, clean-shaved jaw and his long blond hair, which he has tied back behind his head with a red ribbon. The eyes that lock onto her father’s are a muted hazel, green with a faint brown ring about his pupils. Lord Ludwig is handsome, for an older man. And bears a strong resemblance to his daughter, Mikasa’s new handmaid.

This homegrown northern matter seems to be a good deal more pressing than first she’d thought. Both men had vanished during the entertainments, leaving the rest of the household spare and idle. Which worried Mother, Mikasa senses, as she comes over much later to bid her good night and seek her blessing. This further feeds Mikasa’s own foreboding as she makes her way to Father’s solar for his blessing.

He is standing in front of the tall window, hands clasped behind his back as he looks down upon his still rejoicing city. Lord Ludwig is nowhere in sight. Father does not turn around when she announces herself and enters. For a long moment, there is silence, broken only by the soft snaps of the fire in the stone hearth to her left. Above, the glass and iron chandelier shines its balmy orange light over the chamber, lending a certain warm homeliness to the space.

Several more heartbeats pass until at last, he sighs and strides over to his desk, which is standing beside the mullioned panes in front of a shelf of books and knickknacks. The blue and gray carpet underfoot muffles his steps.

A sheepskin map is rolled open on the surface of the table, its corners weighed down by books. A map of Karanes, Mikasa sees, as she strides nearer. There are no markers, no marks upon the painted hide. She wonders what it is that Father is looking for, what he is noting.

“Well, it was only a matter of time. I can’t say I’m surprised, you know what they’re like.” He leans down on the desk, hands spread out on the map. The first two fingers of his right hand lay pointing at the Lord of Ajdoje’s stronghold, up in northern Karanes.

“Northmen are northmen.” She walks to the lounge situated in front of a wall of books to the right of the desk and sits down.

“More’s the pity. Oh, to be a pure Midlander as we were of old… What even are we Karanesi now? Midlander or northmen? We’re not quite one, not quite the other. And both so different from one another. It’s a wonder any man could herd this lot for all this time.”

“Our family has always been able,” Mikasa says, quite awkwardly, not knowing how to address her father’s laments. It is something she is little versed in, to her chagrin. She is little versed in dealing with people generally, a fact which gives her no small amount of anxiety. Especially considering the station to which the gods saw fit to call her.

“If only our family weren’t so… able.” Karanes is the only one of the States spanning two fronts, the Midlands and the North. The Ackermans of old, however, had settled further south than where their descendants now rule, in present-day Neustadt ruled by the Vukasins. Some Reiss king rewrote the Lovayan map and placed his Ackerman lord in the middle of the State as a buffer, a serjeant best suited to handle the insurgent northmen whenever they rose up (which they did often and well even to this day).

The Ackermans have ever been a martial family, producing warrior king after warrior king throughout the millennia until the Titans came and beat them down to vassalship, as they did all the other kings and queens in fair Lovaya. Who better to be a bulwark against the wild than one with warrior’s blood himself?

It is a suit of armor her father is never comfortable wearing. He is an oddity, as far as Ackermans go, more scholarly than warlike, happier with a book in hand than with a sword. This had caused no end of strife between him and his lord father, Klaus Ackerman, who slapped the Vukasins and their dogs down to heel during the War Within decades ago. Lord Klaus’s death had freed Father of his father’s scorn. And he has never been happier.

As happy as duty can make him, to be sure. But Mikasa knows he would rather have the pain of duty than the pain of a father’s derision. Lord Lukas sighs, world-weary. “We hear the same clamors as the rest of the North. It’s not just Ledovskoy. Neven and Brzenska are reporting malcontent as well, at this point, it’s only a matter of time before I hear from Zackly and Zacharius.”

Another sigh, and suddenly, he has aged a decade, as though that last breath of air was his very vitality itself. Father sits down heavily upon his chair, with little grace. He stares hollow-eyed at the map before murmuring, “Ledovskoy is more an Ackerman than I. Hard, stern, dependable, martial. It’s no wonder he speaks for our North. He’s what people want me to be. People think he is me. That’s why I avoid standing next to the man at gatherings, if I can help it, they all think him the Ackerman.” An easy enough mistake to make, in hindsight. Both men are fair as the sun, and the current Lord Ackerman is famously gold as opposed to the ravens their House tends to be.

Lukas Ackerman turns to his daughter at length and smiles, tired yet affectionate. “You’re what people expect of this House, a true warrior and fierce. Perhaps they’ll have more joy of you than they ever had of me someday.”

“But I never wanted any of that.”

That gives her father pause. And brings remorse and pity, that most wretched of sentiments, out into the light. She almost regrets saying anything then.

“You cannot know how sorry I am that this was thrust upon you,” Father says softly. “But it pleased the gods to bring your brother back into their graces and so we have no choice. If I could spare you the chains of commanding, I would. The best I can do for you, ultimately, is to ease the way and prepare you for your calling.”

And what a calling it is. She will forever hate the wild salt sea for forcing it on her and robbing her of a brother and a simpler life.

“Ah, you did not come here to hear a lord’s burdens. Come, let me bless you and bid you good night. May your dreams be more pleasant than mine tonight.” She stands from the lounge, receives her blessing, and goes with her own good night, imparting a gentle kiss on the stubbly cheek and hoping that will give him ease.

She has so much to tell Connie. As he does her, she can see it now. She imagines a thick scroll of parchment tied to the leg of a floundering dove as it flaps frantically outside her window, desperate to enter and snatch rest. The thought makes her snort. The boy would be lonely indeed if he ever writes anything longer than a foot.

It suddenly occurs to her much later, as she settles into bed warm and snug and content, that she had barely thought of Eren today. And it feels… good.

A great rousing cheer answers your father’s foreword, and with that, the festivities proceed apace.

You gaze down at the hundreds gathered below Goldhaven’s presence balcony, smiling your courtly smile and feeling inordinately pleased that you were not asked to give the speech this year. You are equal to the task and will do so if prompted, yet the desire to remain free of the duty of addressing the public is strong in you. You can address all the courts in the world if you have to. When your time comes. And the gods only know how many speeches there are in your inevitable future. What’s one less speech to that endless repertoire?

Lord Alexander turns to you with a smile. “Off to the Great Sanctum-”

“I’d like to show Eren around for a while before we head there. If it please you,” you say hurriedly, hoping against hope for leave.

Bemusement dances across Father’s face before he smiles once more, ever accommodating. “It pleases me to grant you leave. Before sundown, the hour of the dove. You have until then for your frolics.”

You beam and stand on your toes to kiss his bearded cheek. You turn to Eren behind you, still shining. “Get dressed.”

“I’m already dressed,” he points out, perplexed.

“Not in plain clothes, you aren’t. You can’t explore the city in cloth-of-gold. You’ll blind everyone,” you tut, grabbing his arm and marching him off to get changed at once. Pretty as he is in your House colors, he can hardly run about the streets with a podonza threatening to slip down his shoulder half the time. Which is a-wasting.

His orange tunic with its brown trim and belt is markedly less blinding. And brings out the green in his eyes so beautifully. You yourself have changed out of your teal and gold sleeveless vevda for another simpler one, a white knee-length garment paired with a pale blue floor-length underskirt trimmed with meanders in white thread along the hemline. A thin pale blue cord ties the whole thing into place about your waist. Nice and simple. Its only concession to frills is the pair of gold chains looping above your left arm, which is left bare; your right arm is encased in a long sleeve that is fastened from your upper arm with gold buttons.

You lead him through the castle gates and into the bustling streets, both now suitably dressed, joining the throng of servants and soldiers on leave as they pour through the walls to partake of the revels. “No guards?” Eren asks, glancing around for an armored tail, only to find none.

“I have a pact with Father. I avoid the docks and the seedier areas of the city, the guard stays well away from me. Not too far that he’ll be unable to come to my aid if need be. He’ll be keeping a close, and unobtrusive, eye on us. From afar.” You draw your white lesos over your head to keep off the worst of the midday sun.

“What brought this pact on?” Bareheaded Eren quirks an eyebrow at you as you enter one of the city squares. Dmitriy Rhyzkov sits proud and fierce astride his rearing stallion in the middle of the plaza, his noble likeness forever captured in stone atop a tall granite pedestal. The crowd grows thick as you lead Eren on.

His query makes you grin. “Father had a long talk with me after I slipped my guard one too many times. I just couldn’t stand having a solemn bore breathing down my neck as I explored my city.”

“What if you did get into trouble? They can be hindrances but they’re useful to keep around.”

Says one who also ran away from his hindrances the first chance he got. “We don’t have tails in Belris.” At last, you spot your destination. You pull him along, weaving nimbly between festive folk headed in the other direction, one of whom drapes a crown of flowers over Eren’s head before prancing away. You laugh at his startled expression.

“We don’t have tails because the Golden District is safe as can be. Belrish dregs live by the walls,” Eren says, once his surprise had passed into the void. He reaches up to pluck at the crown, seeming gratified.

Around you the crowds make merry, piping their pipes and fiddling their fiddles, dancing and scattering flowers and petals everywhere. Red and pink and gold gently rain down upon you as you breast the human tide. From the buildings around you, more petals fall from homebound roisterers. You turn your head a little to look back at your betrothed, smiling slightly. “You’ll keep me safe. Won’t you?”

“Always.”

His sudden solemnity makes your smile slowly fade, and you have to look away at length. The heat pricking your cheeks is not from the sun’s harsh rays, you do not think.

The Blue Pearl’s hands are as welcoming as ever, its fare as excellent. Custom is meager owing to the festivities; most everyone is lunching in the Great Sanctum, including your family. But Eren is due his tour of your city and you can think of no better day to start than today. The Pearl is one of your favorite haunts and the staff know you well as a patron. Eren is subjected to a light (yet serious) dressing down by the barkeep, who warns him off of ‘doin’ the ‘lil lady dirty.’ Whose face heats up again at the young knight’s grave denouncement of such conduct.

You leave the tavern well-fed and hankering for something sweet and fresh. You direct your path to the packed produce arcade, feeling more than a tad anxious. Here you will see the fruits, as it is, of your labor. Those weeks spent in constant correspondence with your heads of house, all the organizing, allocating, supervising, negotiating, advising… here it will all culminate at last.

The proof in the autumn pudding.

You are far from disappointed. Every stall and stand and cart display the bounty of Vascalin. Apples, figs, pomegranates, dates and plums and lemons - fruits shine bright as jewels next to bundles and bundles of vegetables: leeks, fennel, radishes, cabbages and artichokes and olives. An excellent haul. The gods have blessed you this year.

And you are not to be held accountable for the failure of the crop. That is the best thing of all. All at once, you can breathe easier again.

“Good haul this year. Well done,” Eren commends, grinning down at you, making you glow at the praise. You glow even more when he proceeds to buy you an apple from one of the stalls. It is only fair you have a taste of the gods’ blessings and relish in their favor, he claims, as he buys you both your sweet. You have one more thing to thank them for tonight. Never had you had an apple so sweet as the one you ate that day.

Things sour for you as you move on, however. The foot traffic, already thick, has grown even thicker near the market square, and so you are forced to take the bypass you had wanted to avoid like the plague. You dash through one of the high-end avenues where some of the most expensive and upscale brothels are located, the area busy but not so packed as the square nearby. You practically fly through the street as though the very hounds of hell are at your heels.

Eren staggers behind you, bewildered, feet tangling over each other as he is dragged along like a leashed pup. Nothing diminishes his comely countenance, apparently, however ungainly a sight he makes at the moment. Half-dressed and undressed whores lean out the windows, calling out for patrons. More than a handful call out to your betrothed, to your extreme annoyance. Flower petals rain down on you from the sluts and their basketfuls of blossoms. You impatiently brush a yellow petal off your lesos and march on doggedly.

“H-hey, can you let up a bit, please?” Eren pants, loping beside you to keep up. His crown of flowers has vanished, torn from his head during your headlong rush. “What’s the rush? It’s barely past the hour of the lynx, we still have another hour…”

You give a vague grunt and keep your silence, just as a whore draped in jeweled chains and nothing else calls down to Eren coquettishly from her trellised balcony. Your stomach lurches unpleasantly, then lurches again with something more buoyant as you pass the fountain that marks the end of the avenue.

“Jealousy truly becomes you, have I told you that lately?”

You refuse to grace him with your attention, misliking the tone of his voice. The look on his face is only fit to be smacked off, you are sure, if you ever deign to look at him now. You jolt, surprised, as his arm wraps around your waist and holds fast, forcing you to look at him. Behind the teasing grin is something more insistent. Honest. “Eyes only on you,” he says simply.

The day is sweet, oh-so-sweet indeed.

In time, you find yourselves exploring the arcades, acquiring yourselves chains of flowers from the stallkeeps in the process. Eren amuses himself by picking at the many garments on display in the fashion arcade, flourishing dresses at you at random. Most of which have sharp vee-shaped necklines.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” you ask, entertained, as Eren brandishes a sleeveless emerald green vevda at you. One with a deeply slashed neckline, of course. “I regret to say I don’t own nearly enough breast-baring dresses for your tastes. That’ll look pretty with a silver belt.”

“It will, won’t it?” Eren beams, then carefully places it back on its display as you walk off. “Pity about your dresses. Charms as lovely as yours aren’t meant to be hidden away.”

You laugh. “Pity the court has such blue noses for all their love of randy chatter. More charm can be a useful thing up there. But court fashions have their own allure. It gives you only enough to tease at the truth and all that. Gives you something to long for, think about.”

“That it does.” His eyes sweep down your body, slow and sensual. You shiver, as though he had caressed you all over with his hands instead of simply looking. “I have much to long for, true enough.”

It is a feat of remarkable ability, you think, that you can stand here still and brave his flames. You are getting better at that as time progresses. Then again, you are a being of heat, after all; who better to brave his flames than you?

The smell of salt wafts pleasantly toward you in the fashion arcade, sited as it is near the docks. The snatches of conversation that leap out at you from the many stallkeeps are glaringly less pleasant. Even this far south, news of the North still haunts you. That it has managed to trickle down here of all places concerns you. Was the clamor getting that bad? You do not want to think about what awaits you all when court reconvenes the next season.

It is an utter relief when you pass through to the next, less gossipy arcade.

The sight of all the handmade crafts - furnishings, figurines, toys - reminds Eren of his niece and the present he owes her as an uncle visiting a place of note. “There’s a qaxan parlor by the docks, did you know? The only one in Arsechkala,” you inform him as he examines a carved wooden dragon overlaid with silver leaf from one of the many stalls. “I could take you there sometime, see how you go up against someone else besides me. Thus will we know your true capability.”

Consistency has entered Eren’s court at last, to your utmost pleasure. His first true win back in Friedfurt wasn’t entirely a fluke, it turned out. Your games after that have been more balanced. At last, Eren is making up his lost ground, steadily winning game after game after game. Your pride knows no bounds.

“I’ll know my true capability when I can go up against Armin at last,” Eren says, as you move on to the last of the line of stalls, leisurely browsing.

“I think that’s too high of a goalpost… A step at a time, yes?” You will not soon forget your games with that golden commander. Any and all wins you can scrape against him are much treasured.

“He hasn’t written back yet, has he? I wonder how his Alyfeis is going. His dull and dreary Alyfeis.”

“It’s only dull because it’s what you’re used to. You’ve experienced it all your life and so the magic of it’s disappeared.” You tramp down the steps of the arcade, emerging into another relatively less packed street. Little stalls are still scattered about the area, those of vendors unable to secure a lease to hawk their wares in the arcade proper.

You stop by a table bearing little wooden figures of the twelve sacred beasts of the Creed. Which in itself is a surprise. The Creed has never been strong here. The small temple of the Gardener in the city had held its quiet celebration earlier, for its handful of Arsechkalan believers. Eren turns to you, fingers wrapped around a figure of a lynx. “Do you find your Alyfeis dull?”

That brings you up short. “Point conceded.” You have never found the harvest feast dull and will never.

The rumble of sound about you seems to grow louder. It is then that you notice how thick the throng is getting. Before you quite know it, a host of people is passing through, as though a sluice gate has been opened to let the tide in. Eren moves to take you aside and away from the carousing crowd.

“Oh!”

Someone knocks into you and then you are stumbling, crashing into something hard and warm, who lets out a yelp of his own as he staggers back into the table behind him, scattering wooden figures everywhere. His arms fly up to wrap around you on instinct, and it is all you know. His strength, his heat, his scent mixed with that of flora. Wide green eyes stare down at you. Beneath your palms and the crushed blossoms, his heart races.

Thump, thump, thump.

Fire and water fill your world, from the flame of his shirt and the sea of his eyes, and for a long while, he is your everything.

A thousand years pass until you can think to look away. A cluster of carvings had landed by your feet. An eagle, a wolf, two serpents twined. The Sun, the Moon, the Lovers.

“M-milady!”

The elderly stallkeep had gotten to his feet, toothless mouth agape, pale blue eyes bulging with shock before he remembers himself and bows. Your lesos has fallen about your shoulders, displaced from your head by the commotion earlier. The stallkeep straightens up from his bow, his long, wrinkled fingers tangling together nervously. “M-milady, such a surprise- ‘s an honor to see you ‘round this parts, and by me shop, too! The honor-”

“It’s my pleasure, goodman. Please pardon us for jostling your stall- here, let me-” You move to step away from Eren’s warmth and pick up the fallen figures. His grip tightens around you, and you think he would not let go, but let go of you he does. You can feel reluctance leech into you. His own or yours, you cannot say.

“Ah, no, milady, can’t possibly let you trouble yourself-”

“It’s fine, we knocked over your wares, it’s the least we can do,” you reassure the man, smiling and putting his worries to ease. Beside you, Eren has set to, helping you scoop up the figurines and carefully placing them back on the table.

The elder bows once more, stammering out his thanks as you place the last carving on the counter, and offers you a gift of his wares, which you swiftly wave away. In the end, he makes you a present of the twined serpents - which you still insist on paying for, a handful of coppers, for his trouble.

Money well spent, you think, admiring the skill and the craftsmanship that you can tell went into the making of this piece. The serpents weave about each other, an endless loop, unbreakable. Eren weaves his fingers through yours, and away you go.

“The hour of the dove,” you state, catching sight of the tall clocktower ahead, with its triple arches spanning the river Goldtide. And so you set your steps toward the Great Sanctum, following the tide at last instead of going against its current.

He has never been, Eren had told you, so you take great pleasure in showing him the greatest pride of the city, one of two marvels of the Old Way. The largest godstone in the realm stands at the heart of its little island in a lagoon not too far off from the coast. You pass through the wardens’ commune, home to the holy isle’s caretakers, through the arched gate and onto the narrow stone bridge that connects the isle to the mainland.

The sea breeze blows strong here. You take a deep breath of the clean salt air, cheerful and content and alive. Overhead, seabirds fly, gulls and sandpipers and terns. Your cheer is mirrored in Eren’s face to mate with his awe. He glances down at you, grinning, and his eyes are the sea surrounding him, blue and green and sparkling. He takes the sea with him, wherever he goes.

“It’s massive,” Eren exclaims once you step foot on the islet at last, craning his neck back to gawk at the godstone and its hundred feet of glory.

“Magnificent,” you beam with pride and no small amount of reverence. The stone god carved into its face is majestic, stern yet kindly, a true king of the gods. Four hundred years' worth of salt air and rains have eaten away at the august face, however, to your and the Old Blood’s dismay. No mage now can keep nature from doing what she will to this sacred effigy. Powerful as they are, not even the gods are a match for that wild sovereign where their earthly forms are concerned. It is now for the caretakers to do all they can for the gods. And that must be enough.

“The most beautiful sanctum,” Eren remarks, glancing about at the rows of trees ringing the island as you break away from the still-long line of worshipers passing through another gate to the foot of the godstone, where mounds upon mounds of produce are heaped. Perhaps they will have offered enough for yet another year of bounty, to judge from the sheer quantity you had glimpsed through the hallowed entrance. You lead Eren on, to the spot in the isle where your family usually gathers. It is custom for you to picnic behind the gigantic godstone in that patch of grass beneath the trees, beside the viewing platform, which is open to the sea.

“You think the Great Sanctum more beautiful than the godsway?” Through the trees, you see a garlanded little boy running, trailed by his father, young and tall and dark, with his hair in its loose knot behind his head, a chain of flowers about his neck. You look after them, heart pounding, but they have melted into the mass, one of many families taking their joy of the festival. You wonder if they are vision or muddled truth.

“Even more beautiful.”

There is nothing muddled about your betrothed’s truth, and you cling to that. He is a vision, yet true and living and tangible. His is the only truth you’ll have.

He seems to hesitate a moment before asking in a quiet voice, almost bashful, “Do they allow weddings in front of this godstone?”

You smile, at the question and at him, this sweetest of boys. “Yes, they do.”

He looks away, out at the great salt sea. The tips of his ears have gone that sweet shade of pink, pink as the blooms of pink princess about his neck. “The sanctum in Midford- I mean, I’m not saying it’s not a good sanctum to wed in but- only if it please you and your family, of course- and the hassle of travel and all that-”

“I think we should say our vows in here.”

His head whips back around, so fast you are astonished he did not crick his neck at all. His eyes are wide for several heartbeats before he smiles, the softest, most tender smile you have yet seen from him. It is then that you are resolved. You must see that smile again, every day of your life. From this day to the end of your days.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

A/N:

Happy belated birthday, Eren! Have some smut in honor of his happy day! (Not the real thing, though, sadly, we'll get there, we'll get there.)

(Now I'm obliged to do a masturbatory scene for YN so, uh, there's that).

The first NSFW scene. And not the last. At last one goal done.

Nerdy info dump 2. Just to help clarify the many, many styles of southron clothing, I'll list them out the best I can:

Chelya - strap dress

Charovma - halter/backless dress

Povevda - tube dress

Vevda - catchall term for southron clothing for both men and women. Everything not mentioned above is a vevda for simplicity's sake (except for the tunic/pants combo). All of this is inspired by Greco-Roman culture (tweaked massively for my own worldbuilding), if you can't tell, and gods, they had A LOT of clothing terms to sift through. I hope I managed to get my descriptions right...

Also, added a slight change to the way I described the Great Sanctum in chap. 3 cause I hadn't really fully envisioned what it looked like til now. Just a couple of sentences for continuity's sake.

Oooh, yeah, happy belated birthday to Jean, too, I guess. (Lol, nah, I love you, too, Horseboy. Not as much as Eren but still. You're great!)

Thank you so much for following! Til next update <3

Tagging: @alekstraszas @lukepattersin @tojis-discord-kitten

[luvt0kki]

That new chapter was so effing good! I don't know why but that's exactly how I imagined how yeosang would fuck s/o. I feel so bad for wooyoung lmao but at the same time I want him to suffer more like I want him to see her fuck every single one of them until it drives him so crazy that he loses his shit and demands everyone the truth 😭

I'm so looking forward to her dynamics with hongjoong, seonghwa, jongho and especially San. You're a lil evil for teasing us with those subtle hinted smut scenes with san in chapter 3(San's sexy naked ass waiting in her bedroom)and 4. San is a mystery to me because I feel like he could be the kinkiest of them all or the most vanilla.

Mingi teasing wooyoung was so funny and hot at the same time. When he said "what if it's an invitation?" NOW WE GOTTA SEE THESE TWO HAVE A THREESOME WITH HER IN THAT DAMN SHOWER STALL. Imagine them having a competition on who can make her cum more. They gonna be doing IT for the entire night until the sun rises.

Amazing work!! Loved it loved it loved it 👏👏👏👏

The way I got so excited seeing your ask. ITS LONG AND UR TELLING ME SPECIFIC FAVE PARTS AHHHH. I love this so much. Reading this made smile 😭 that’s also my dilemma rn should I make woo get closer to hitting or…make him suffer more HAHDHDHAHAAG

All I’m gonna say is San and Y/N go way back…San is very sweet but don’t be fooled HEHE ILL STOP HERE I DONT WANT TO SPOIL

Mingi is hahaha tall scary silly cute sexy himbo. He’s going to make Wooyoung’s life hell at this point. He’s going to tease him just for fun 😭

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 21

aka You Were Amazing

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety (like a LOT)

Chapter Warnings: Steven Universe spoilers (vague), graphic kissing, allusions to smut, swearing, overwhelming fluff

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @fellowthomassandersfander @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt 

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 20 | Masterlist | Chapter 22>>

read on ao3

Roman had barely made it through the door and shed his shoes before he’d collapsed happily onto Virgil’s couch. He was exhausted. But he was here with Virgil, and they were going to watch cartoons. That would be good.

Virgil eyed his friend. The bags under his eyes were starting to look familiar. “Hey, we don’t need to stay up if you’re too tired. Do you need to sleep? It’s been a bit of a day.”

“What? Who’s tired, I’m not tired. I am so awake,” Roman sputtered. “C’mon, Little Bo Sleep, let’s watch some gay space rocks. I’m…not even a little… tired,” he covered his mouth as he yawned.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay. You fulfill one world-saving prophecy and now you’re immune to sleep, makes sense.” “It’s true,” Roman mumbled, snuggling into the couch, yawns still punctuating his speech. “I am invulnerable to the... weaknesses of man. I scoff at the petty needs of... the lesser beings around me. The Sandman has no… power here. Sleep is for the... weak...”

Virgil glanced over. Soft auburn hair fell over eyes that were now fully closed. Seconds later, he heard a light snore. He is so ridiculous, Virgil thought with a fond smile.

He slipped his arms underneath Roman’s sleeping form and picked him up, carrying him over to his bed and depositing him gently among the blankets. He pulled a star-bedecked comforter over the sleeping man, who made a small sound of contentment and pulled it closer to his chest. Virgil caressed the man’s cheek softly, then grabbed another blanket and went to go sleep on the couch.

After all, being a Sage with a heck of a crush didn’t mean he wasn’t still a gentleman.

Virgil didn’t really sleep that night, but then again, he didn’t need to. He’d texted Remy, though, telling him he really needed the day off if that was alright.

Remy had responded with a string of eyes, eggplants, and fingers pointing and doing the ‘OK’ symbol, all emojis without a written word to be found. Virgil was confused, but it seemed to be approval, and he decided to not question it.

He was up and puttering in the kitchen the next morning when a voice suddenly asked, “Why am I in your bed?”

He turned to see Roman sitting up, sleepy-eyed with very messy bedhead. He kept looking back and forth between couch and bed, confused.

“Because I wasn’t about to let you sleep on the couch after the day you’d had, ya goof. I moved you after you fell asleep. Right in the middle of telling me how you weren’t tired, I might add. I’m never letting you forget that.”

“Moved… you carried me? You can carry me?” Roman levered himself out of bed to come poke at Virgil’s arms. “How are these skinny things that strong? Is this part of the maaaaaaggicccc?”

Okay, so Roman was a little weird in the morning. Not to mention this was the most unkempt Virgil had ever seen him. It was… oh sweet stars, it was so endearing.

“I don’t think it’s magic. It’s definitely not anything I have to concentrate on. I just, I don’t know, picked you up.”

“Ohhh do it again I wanna see,” Roman said excitedly.

Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling. “If you insist-”

“I do!”

Without another word, he placed a hand on the taller man’s back and knelt to put his arm under his knees, sweeping him into his arms. Roman yelped and threw both arms around Virgil’s neck as the purple-haired man laughed at him for being so easily scared.

“See, Princey? Easy. I could do this all day,” Virgil said with a smile. That was when they both realized that Virgil was now carrying Roman princess-style and their faces were suddenly incredibly close together.

Virgil’s face immediately went red and he practically dropped him on the spot, but managed to set him down gently and quickly went back to making coffee.

“So yeah I can carry you and I. Um. Breakfast?” he asked, trying to calm himself enough to use the french press.

“Sorry, what?”

“Can I get you any breakfast? Coffee is breakfast, right? Are eggs? Or sandwiches? I haven’t really figured this part of humanity out yet, Patton has been feeding me pastries since my first day and I’ve been too intimidated to figure it out on my own. Breakfast is an enigma.”

Roman chuckled and hugged Virgil around the shoulders from behind, his face still a little pink. “Never fear, Dark & Stormy. I’ll help you in a minute. First, I have got to get a hairbrush. What even is my hair right now, right?”

“Don’t ask me, you always look good,” Virgil said. He was turned towards the counter, but still caught the blush on Roman’s cheeks as he retreated to the bathroom.

It had been a good day. The mystery of breakfast had been partially unlocked (Pancakes: yes. Coffee: yes, but not on its own. No Virgil, I don’t care what Remy tells you, coffee is not a meal. Eggs: yes, but not always. Sandwiches: yes, but they have to have eggs), and Roman had been very excited to finally start watching Steven Universe. And to watch Virgil’s reactions.

Hours later, they had binged through almost three seasons with only a short break for a lunch and a much longer one for processing that “Garnet was lesbians the whole time???!!”

Virgil was thoroughly enjoying himself, even through the sad and dramatic moments. He had not cried, at all, not at any point, he did not know what Roman was teasing him about.

As the day went on, though, he found himself gazing more and more at Roman, who was currently tearing up as Steven was saved from the depths of space by his family of Crystal Gems.

If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me I could do about anything I could even learn how to love

Virgil sighed and quickly looked away. As he did so, he missed the movement to his right as Roman looked gently back at him.

When I see the way you act Wondering when I’m coming back I could do about anything I could even learn to love like you

Roman tentatively reached out a hand to lay on Virgil’s, who looked up, shocked at the touch. Roman leaned over slowly and kissed his cheek. The violet-haired man blushed, and turned his head to return the cheek kiss.

Roman smiled into the shorter man’s eyes. “I don’t want to push, but I would really like to kiss you more. Is that okay?”

“We’d have to stop watching the show, though. I was promised a full binge-watch,” Virgil said with a slight smirk, badly attempting to conceal how he very much would like that, yes.

“Virge, you adorable emo dream, this may be the one time in my life I could not care less about any cartoon show,” Roman quipped back, and pulled Virgil into an embrace. He still moved gently, letting them both relax or pull back if they needed, before his lips found Virgil’s.

...oh.

If he hadn’t been blushing before, Virgil was definitely blushing now. He was acutely aware of every spot where Roman’s body was in contact with his. His upper torso, his arms, his back, and oh sweetness, his lips. Roman was so gentle as he held him, but under that softness was all firm muscle and steadiness. That steadiness calmed him like nothing he’d ever known, and made him feel so… safe . He wanted to stay here, wrapped up in Roman’s arms, forever.

Roman broke off the kiss at length, panting just the slightest bit. He was blushing, too. “I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment I met you,” he murmured. “Those beautiful eyes, and you looking at me like a deer in the headlights. But the reality…” he kissed Virgil’s nose, grinning, “the reality is so much better than I could have pictured.”

“Even with everything that’s happened? Scary nighttime showdowns and me being a secretly magical cougar?”

“Especially with you being a secretly magical cougar. What can I say, I like being flattered. Though, now that you mention it, I’m still a little… confused, I guess. About the magic.”

Virgil was tense. He understood the confusion, obviously, but was all too aware how insane his entire existence sounded to a human. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?” he asked.

“There’s… a lot, but the biggest is why was I surprised by this? Why have I never heard of there being real magic? Magic really exists, and has throughout history? Why doesn’t humanity know, or remember?” Roman didn’t appear angry, only curious, as he lightly ran his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair.

“Magical beings used to be a lot more prominent, but they started fading as the human population grew. So a lot of times, there were no humans around to remember them. Or so few that the recorded events morphed into folk stories and fairytales. And Sages like me were often in isolation or just acting as incorporeal beings from the ether, influencing without being physically present.”

“If fairytales are real, does that mean fairies are too?” Roman’s eyes were shining with curiosity. Virgil had been so nervous about sharing this information, but with Roman, it felt safe to.

“They were. I don’t think any are still alive, unfortunately. But there used to be all sorts of creatures, like fairies and dragons. Unicorns, too, but I only ever met one herd my entire life, when I was living in the highlands. There were also not-so-nice creatures, like ogres and specters and ghouls. Those, I don’t miss as much.”

“What about vampires? Is Dracula secretly a history book?”

“There definitely were vampires. I only ever met one, though, when I was very young and he… he was nothing like Dracula, to say the least. I met him at a drunken dance party, for one. And he didn’t prey on humans. From the future I saw for him, he never did, right up to his dying day.”

Roman sat back, contemplating this new information. “It’s funny, I always wanted there to be magic in the world, and adventures, and shining knights with glorious quests. Turns out all of that exists, I was just born a bit late for it. At least I had a quest of my own, in a way. Even if I was absolutely terrified the whole time.”

Virgil smiled, cupping Roman’s cheek. “Fun fact: so were all those shining knights. You ever heard that metaphor about swans? Gliding along, looking all stately and elegant above water, but below the surface it’s just frantic webbed feet churning as fast as possible? That’s how all heroes feel. But they make it through. Just like you did.”

“That actually does make me feel better. Guess I’m a swan now,” Roman said, laughing. “Fear me, evil ones, I will peck your eyes out. Honk honk, motherfucker.”

Virgil snorted, then laughed outright, particularly as he saw Roman’s expression, which was apparently his best impression of a fierce waterfowl. Grinning, he lay his head on Roman’s shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you off. You really are the most amazing man I’ve ever met. No magic needed.”

Roman nuzzled his purple head. “And you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Magic or no.”

They both sat there, holding each other and basking in the warmth of their mutual affection when Virgil lifted his head. “Roman, I know it’s only been a week since I gave you my number, and this is probably really clingy and weird to ask so soon, and if you would rather not talk about this yet then that’s fine just please tell me I promise I won’t be hurt-”

“Virge, breathe. What do you want to ask?”

“Am I your… I mean, would you be my… I mean. Agh.” He took a deep breath and asked without opening his eyes, “Are we dating? As boyfriends?” About to continue explaining, or rather, babbling, he stopped himself, and opened his eyes.

To his delight, Roman looked absolutely touched. “I wanted to ask you first, but I didn’t want to move too quickly. I would be thrilled to call you my boyfriend, Virgil.”

“Oh, thank the stars. Google has been really unhelpful when it comes to this stuff. Almost everything is written for women dating men and it’s all about ‘what feels right,’ and I have nothing to compare to.”

“Virge - you looked up online advice on how to ask me to be your boyfriend?” Roman asked, looking sidelong at the smaller man.

“Oh no is that weird? I knew it would be weird-”

“Virgil, my sweet prince of the night, shut up,” Roman interrupted him, grinning. “It’s adorable. As a matter of fact,” he added, releasing his boyfriend (boyfriend!) and standing. “I hereby declare that I have The Cutest Boyfriend™ in this entire city!” He struck a triumphant pose.

Virgil couldn’t help it. He giggled until he laughed out loud, and laughed until he snorted. Roman looked for a second like he might decide to be offended at this reception to his grand declaration before giggling as well, falling back into the couch cushions.

They turned Steven Universe back on, but Virgil would be lying if he didn’t admit that he absorbed a lot less of the action as they progressed. It was still enjoyable, but Roman had taken to stroking a hand through his hair down to his neck and the effect on his thoughts was a puddle of melted goo and hearts.

But Roman stopped petting him for the last few episodes, insisting that Virgil not miss a minute until the final cliffhanger been revealed. Gay weddings were all well and good, but anything that made Virgil stop kissing his boyfriend (boyfriend!) was definitely homophobia and he needed to correct this personal offense as soon as possible.

Roman looked over to see Virgil’s glower as the last credits rolled and pulled him fully into his lap as their lips met once more. “Did you think I was ignoring you, stormcloud?” he murmured in between kisses.

“Roman, please, do me a favor and shut up,” Virgil responded with a breathless growl, leaning in further. Blood was pounding in his veins and cheeks and, well, other places. He wrapped his arms around the man underneath him, mouths locked in slick, wet kisses that sent shivers up and down his spine. Roman was doing something with his tongue that turned into biting Virgil’s lip and dragged an involuntary moan out of the Sage’s throat. His hands were scrabbling at the auburn-haired man’s back, trying to somehow get even closer as his slipped them under the man's t-shirt to make direct skin contact.

The sudden sensation made Roman jump slightly and break off their kiss. “Virge, did you want…?”

Underneath his purple bangs, Virgil’s eyes were dilated and dark, “Ro, yes, I want.”

“Fuck,” Roman half-moaned. “That’s… god, that is hot and I want nothing more than to say yes right now but I… we can’t. Or shouldn’t. Not tonight. Too much has happened and it was just yesterday that we were fighting that snake and I don’t… I want this, all of this, to be perfect. Not just endorphins and throwing caution out the window. Is… is that okay?”

Virgil dragged himself off his boyfriend, every inch of his body complaining at the sudden lack of heat. “Yes, of course, dear one. I… you’re right. Waiting would be healthier. And you’re worth it.”

Roman leaned in closed and dragged his teeth lightly down the curve of Virgil’s ear, startling a strangled gasp out of the other man. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t want all of you this minute, right now, right here,” he murmured, grinning evilly. “I just want to take my time with you.”

“Goddamn, Ro…”

“And on that note,” Roman said, sitting up with a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s getting late, and I really do need to head home.”

Virgil growled, panting lightly still. “You are a goddamn tease, and I hate you very much. Boyfriends for just a few short hours and you’re already leaving?”

“Hey, I’ve already spent the night before even kissing you. Clearly our sense of timing and order is a little off,” the auburn-haired man grinned back. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the bakafé. And in your dreams tonight.”

“You’re the worst possible flirt. Text me when you’re home safe?”

“It’s a fifteen-minute walk, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I worry. Me and possibilities, Princey. I’m always going to worry.”

Roman stood to leave, but leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “For you then, my favorite worrywart, of course.”

A red-and-white-clad figure was walking down the street jauntily. Whistles to a cheerful song floated in the dusky air around him, occasionally bursting into snatches of a sung tune.

“Therrrre’s an awful lot of awful things we could be thinking of, but for just one day let’s only think about love!” he trilled, spinning on one foot as he walked.

He was clearly distracted and happy.

Good for him.

The ‘distracted’ part was all his silent shadow cared about.

author’s note: The working title of this chapter was “Netflix And Chill(s Down Your Spine)” Was anyone actually hoping for six chapters of fluff? Sorry not sorry

[babyboibucky]

First Time’s A Charm

Pairing: Virgin!Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steven’s about to lose his virginity to you.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: some smut for our boi Steven, virginity loss (of Steven obvi), oral (m receiving), a dash of fingering, unprotected p in v, dubcon if you squint (c/o Marc 👀)

A/N: Personally, not satisfied with this because it’s too wordy??? Idk could’ve done better but I’m lazy to rewrite lmao

MAIN MASTERLIST

“Oh wow, when you agreed to dinner with me I definitely did not expect for this to happen.”

You rolled your eyes but in pure amusement, “Steven, stop talking and kiss me again.”

Steven nodded, “I wouldn’t say no to that—“

“Steven.” You called out again in warning.

Having worked with Steven at the museum, you’d grown to appreciate and admire the man. He was sweet and genuine, it was hard not to be infatuated with him. As shy as he was, he actually managed to gather the courage to ask you out.

Of course, you needed to drop some hints here and there but after quite some time, Steven finally caught up.

Now, here you were with him on your couch, making out after going out on a dinner date.

Steven was gentle with you, even with how he kissed you. However, you could feel that he was holding back and well, you were definitely up to help him out with that.

As you kissed him fervently, you slid your hand from his jaw down to his chest, toying with the button of his crumpled button-down shirt. As soon as you popped it open, you slowly slipped your hand inside which emitted a soft groan from Steven.

You pulled back just enough to sit closer to him, placing a leg over his as you claimed his mouth once more but this time, sliding your tongue in to get a taste of him.

Steven’s breathing accelerated, grunting a bit when he felt your fingers play with the smatter of dark hair on his chest.

The longer you kissed him, the more he had gained confidence it seemed. He was now returning the kiss with as much passion, even using his tongue to tease yours the way you would. Thinking that it was time to slightly level up, you slid your knee higher until it touched his crotch.

A moan reverberated from Steven’s chest the moment your knee moved, teasing the growing bulge beneath his pants. You pulled away from his mouth, chuckling breathily when Steven’s head followed and tried to catch up with you but you shut him up when you kissed his jaw instead.

“This feel good?” You whispered, licking your way down to the side of his neck all the while you were grinding down on the side of his leg.

Steven only nodded his head, his mouth agape as you continued to kiss his neck. Slowly, the hand on his chest travelled lower until you palmed his erection.

Suddenly, Steven removed your hand and hopped out of your couch in a state of panic. You straightened up and looked at him with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

Steven paced back and forth in front of you, rubbing his face with both of his hands before letting out a deep breath.

“I didn’t think you would, you know…explore what’s down there.” He chuckled awkwardly.

You frowned in confusion, “I thought it was clear that we were going there…” you said.

Steven blinked, “Going…where?” He asked.

You gave him a look, “Don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Steven’s jaw dropped at your question, “I— of course…I’m sorry, did you want to have sex…with lil’ ol’ me?” He asked in disbelief with a dry laugh.

You let out a scoff as you stood up, “Why do you sound so surprised?” You asked, standing in front of Steven.

Steven made a face, “I’m Steven Grant. I’m a gift shopist who can’t seem to do my job for god’s sake. And it’s me you want to…shag?”

You gave him an endearing look, “Why do you think I agreed to go out on a date with you, invite you over and kiss you? Did you think I was encouraging a visit from the pope dressed like this?” You asked, motioning towards your slightly skimpy and revealing outfit.

Steven looked you down with dark eyes before meeting your gaze once more, “I’m sorry, I just…I’m afraid that I might not…I’m…” he stammered, scratching his temple as he tried to explain.

After a couple of tries, Steven seemed to have given up and told you the truth.

“I’m a bloody virgin.”

It wasn’t really surprising to you but you weren’t judging. If any, you felt bad that Steven seemed to be ashamed of it. Your lack of response worried Steven, his expression changed into worry and then regret in mere seconds.

“I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Steven. It doesn’t matter.” You reassured, taking his hand in yours.

“Come with me.”

-

The sound that spilled out of Steve’s mouth when you first wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock was unexplainable, but damn did it arouse the fuck out of you.

Seated on the foot of your bed, his legs wide open with his pants and boxers pooling at his ankles, Steven threw his head back as you continued your ministrations.

You started out with just sucking on the head while you gently squeezed on the base. Your other hand fondled his balls, and that emitted a needy whimper from Steven.

When you looked up at him, you were met by his neck, his head still thrown back from pleasure. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each sharp inhale he took. And his hands were firmly planted on your mattress for support.

You swirled your tongue on the underside of Steven’s cock before fully taking in his length in your mouth. You could feel his knees tremble as you sucked him, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back, lightly letting your teeth graze his hard cock.

“Bloody hell—“ Steven choked on a groan, looking down at you in between his legs.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at him as well before sliding down again until your nose was buried in the scraggly patch of hair below his abdomen. You swallowed, your throat constricting around his cock that sent him sputtering on his words yet again.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph…my god.” Steven grunted out loud.

His reaction was amusing and so you sped up your pace and bobbed your head up and down while twisting both of your hands around his shaft.

Steven’s cock was quite girthy, tanned in shade with the head a mix of red and purple from how hard he was. You could feel his veins pulsate each time you flattened your tongue against it.

Needy whimpers continued to escape from Steven’s glistening lips while his legs began to shake. You looked at his face above and smirked at the sight— his face and neck were sweaty, his hair damp and sticking against his forehead and his brows furrowed.

He opened his eyes and gazed down at you with a pleading look, “I don’t think I’m going to last, I apologize.”

Even in the middle of getting a blowjob, Steven remained polite. You couldn’t help but chuckle when you pulled away, moaning when a string of pre-cum stuck onto your lower lip.

“I don’t want you to.” You simply said and Steven’s eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sight of you like that, lips swollen and tainted with his pre-cum.

Without prior warning, you sucked his cock with a new vigor, twisting your wrist every now and then for added pleasure. Steven’s moans were close to wanton and his hips started lifting up from the bed.

“Jesus christ!” He huffed out, cradling the back of your head as you continued to suck the life out of him.

His face scrunched in pleasure as he watched your lips stretch around his cock. He whimpered when you swirled your tongue around the head, only to slide back down until his cock hit the back of your throat.

Steven’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, his hips unable to stop moving to meet the movement of your head. His abdomen tightened and his legs stiffened as he came with a loud and shaky moan that made a new wave of wetness gush out of your aching cunt.

He spilled his release inside of your mouth, trying to push you back but you were eager to taste all of Steven. You stayed in between his legs and swallowed all that he had to offer, ignoring the cum that escaped from the sides of your mouth.

While Steven was busy recovering from the mind blowing orgasm, you took it as a chance to remove your damp underwear. You quickly straddled Steven on the bed and took his hand, bringing it up to your lips before pressing a wet kiss on each finger.

“I want to feel you, Steven.” You said, keeping eye-contact as you sucked on two of his fingers.

Steven’s mouth dropped yet again, his eyes lidded with both amazement and lust as he watched you bring his hand down underneath your dress.

You gasped when you placed Steven’s fingers against your folds, your hips rolling as you rubbed yourself against his digits.

Steven’s eyelids fluttered, he swallowed hard and looked up at you with doe eyes that gave your stomach butterflies, “Oh my god, you’re so soft and—“

“Wet?” You chuckled, kissing his neck before taking his earlobe in between your teeth, tugging at it before whispering, “And it’s all for you.”

Steven moaned again and finally moved his fingers, sliding up and down your wet folds as he relished in the feeling of your wetness, “God, you’re just gorgeous.” He breathed out.

You let out a shaky sigh as Steven continued to toy with your weeping pussy, finally inserting his middle finger. He moaned at the tightness before wrapping his other arm around your waist, securing you in place.

You unzipped your dress and slid the straps down, freeing your arms so you can pull it down to reveal your bare breasts. Steven looked hypnotized when he saw your breasts, like he was in a trance and simply couldn’t look away.

He looked up at you and licked his lips, “May..I?” He asked, voice soft and breathy as he stared at your breasts.

You smiled and kissed him, letting him taste himself in your mouth before whispering again, “Do anything you want to me, Steven. I’m yours.”

It was all the reassurance that Steven needed, he bent down to lick at your nipple. The gasp seemed to spur him on and he continued to lap at your breast, experimenting with licking and sucking to see how you’d react.

You tangled your fingers into Steven’s hair when he added another finger into your pussy, slowly pumping it in and out while licking your nipple. His other hand moved to squeeze your other breast, his breathing becoming erratic with each moan he was able to pull out from you.

You reached down and felt how hard Steven’s cock had gotten, he hissed when you pumped it a couple of times before you got off of him, only to get rid of all of his clothes followed by your own.

Steven laid down on the bed and moved upwards to give you more space, lifting his head up, he watched you return to your position above him, straddling his hips.

You bent down to press a chaste kiss on his lips before asking, “Are you sure about this? You can always say no if—“

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.” Steve said.

You could tell that he was nervous, judging from his breathing and the way his body was so still on the bed. You smiled at him before kissing him again, reaching in between your bodies for his cock to align it to your entrance.

You pulled away just enough to be able to look at Steven’s eyes but kept your lips pressed against his. Slowly, you sunk down on his cock and swallowed the gasp that he let out.

Steven’s hands automatically gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as you continued to slide down until he was fully sheathed in your warmth.

“God, you’re bloody tight.” He breathed out, clenching his jaw at the slight movement you made.

You let out a shaky sigh and pressed your forehead against Steven’s shoulder, “You’re big, could feel you stretching me out…” you whined, wiggling your hips.

You started out slow, lifting your hips up until only the head was inside before sliding back down at the same pace. Steven stretched his neck, his head thrown back and eyes closed each time you repeated the movement.

As soon as you’d gotten used to his girth, you started riding him faster, placing a hand on the middle of his chest as leverage.

Steven’s moans were growing louder and louder each time you slammed back down on his cock, his hands finally relaxing and moving upwards to fondle your breasts.

“Just like that, Steven…” you moaned, grinding down on his cock as he twirled your pebbled nipples in between his fingers.

You opened your eyes and watched Steven, he always looked at you with awe— like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Wanting to give Steven the ride of his life, you reversed your position and faced the foot of your bed. Kneeling down with your to Steven, you reached down and slid his cock inside of your wet cunt again.

You bent down on your elbows for support, the new position allowing Steven to see your ass in full display, as well as the way your pussy swallowed his cock every time you bounced up and down.

Unable to help himself, he squeezed your ass before spreading your cheeks open for him to see your pussy in full display.

“Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of me, darling.” He said, holding your hips to guide you.

You whimpered, wiggling your hips, “Steven, need you to fuck me harder.” You pleaded.

Steven slowed down, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He said.

You shook your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, “You’re not gonna hurt me, Steven. Please?” You whimpered, sliding a hand between your legs to toy with your clit.

Steven lifted his head up and hesitantly lifted his hips up, trying his best to give you what you wanted. However, he still wasn’t confident enough whether he'd be able to satisfy you.

He was about to say something when he caught sight of his reflection on the mirror on top of your dresser.

Steven, she said she wants it harder. That’s not it.

Of all the times that Marc could show up, it really just had to be now, in the middle of love-making?! Ignoring him, Steven continued to thrust his hips.

“Harder, Steven…” you whined.

Marc grunted and before Steven could even notice, he had already taken over the body and started pistoling his hips harder and faster.

A loud moan resounded in the room, followed by you protesting when Marc flipped you on your back and placed both the back of your knees over his shoulders. You squealed in surprise when he finally fucked you the way you wanted, your eyes fluttering shut from the intense pleasure that coursed through your veins.

The next thing Steven knew, he was back and watching you trembled beneath him as his hips moved on its own.

And that is how you fuck. You’re welcome.

Steven chose to ignore Marc and as much as he hated his guts, he was quite thankful for the little help.

“Steven…” you called out, clawing his back as you kissed him.

“Want you to cum first…” you said, clenching your cunt around his cock.

Steven’s brows furrowed as he continued to pound into you, his balls tightening and cock pulsing as he neared his release.

You wrapped a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him again, “C’mon, cum for me, Steven. Wanna feel you fill me up to the brim. Go on, cum for me, love.” You said, licking Steven’s lips before squeezing your pussy around his cock.

The veins on Steven’s neck bulged out and with one final thrust, he came with a loud groan falling from his lips. His eyes rolled back and his entire body stilled as ropes of his cum flooded your channel and brought you to your own release.

You chanted Steven’s name as you came, your hips violently rolling against his as you rode waves and waves of your orgasm until you were both spent.

Steven went limp and caged your sweaty body with his, letting his full weight crush you beneath him.

A couple of breaths later, you let out a chuckle, “You’re squeezing me, love.”

“Oh my, I’m sorry.” Steven apologized and rolled over onto his back, heavily panting.

“How was it?” You nervously asked, turning your head to him, “How was your first time?”

Steven blinked, beaming as he faced you, “It was magnificent.”

You laughed and cuddled onto his side, sighing and lazily drawing patterns on his chest, “You’re magnificent.” You told him.

-

The sunlight was blinding when you woke up; judging by the shadows it casted around your room, it was probably close to noon.

Memories from last night flooded your brain but as soon as you turned on the bed, you were met with an empty, cold spot.

“Steven?” You softly uttered, worry etched all over your face.

He must have been overwhelmed by last night, you thought. You were worried that he might have regretted it, you sure as hell didn’t. Letting out a sad sigh, you got up and put on a clean shirt before walking out.

And there he was, Steven, standing in your kitchen.

He quickly sensed your presence and turned to you with a huge smile on his face. He quickly put down the pan and approached you.

“Morning, love— well, afternoon, I guess.” He said before kissing your lips.

“Thought you left.” You admitted, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Steven shook his head, “I’d be a fool to leave my woman starving after last night’s extracurricular activities.” He stated.

You lifted a brow. “Your…woman?” You asked.

Steven’s face fell and he quickly began apologizing, “I’m sorry, I think losing my virginity gave me an excess boost of confidence and—“

You shut him up with a kiss, “I like it.” You admitted, biting your lip.

“Oh.” Steven said, quickly regaining his relaxed and confident demeanor back, “Then I think my woman is gonna love what I cooked for her.”

You chuckled, taking Steven’s face in both your hands, “You’re one hell of a gift shopist, Steven.”

[soft4gguk]

"boyfriend of my dreams" pt. 3

Pairing: jungkook x reader

Genre: college au. pwp. smut. strangers to lovers (or are they?)

Word count: 8.6k

Warnings: . angst, angst, angst :(, oc mean agenda (pls dont give up on her yet!!!), jungkook truly best boy, oral (m. receiving), fingering, lil dry humping, protected sex!, multiple orgasms, aftercare *sobs* want him so bad y'all.

Author’s note: I loved writing this. I got so immersed in it and I couldn't stop. I love this jungkook and I love their dynamic, even if it literally pains me to write it sometimes. I listened to my ultimate sad Taylor swift songs playlist whilst writing this. and 'this love' played on loop more times than I'll admit - but you'd have to read to know just how much. thank u for being here, I appreciate it more than I'll ever be able to say. I love u guys sm. <3333 xx & loads of o's.

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

pt. 3

Jungkook’s head spins – he can quite literally feel the heaviness that comes with it, and it engulfs his entire body in that hazy feeling. His head hits the wall, eyes closing as his chest heaves, running a hand through his hair. You don’t waste any time, too desperate to feel his skin on yours, fingers skimming up his thighs. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as they inch closer to the waistband of his grey sweatpants. You haven’t touched him yet, so it’s unclear to you if he’s hard, but the outline of his cock through the thin material makes your mouth water. It’s when you hook your fingers inside the elastic that Jungkook’s eyes snap open, looking down at you. You’re looking at him, a darkened gaze adorning your pretty eyes and even with the slight touch of your knuckles at his hipbone, you’re driving him crazy enough to almost not question this whole thing.

Almost. 

“Wait, wait…” his voice is gentle, soft.

“What?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he stopped you, or what he wants to say. All he knows is that there’s a franticness about your actions that doesn’t feel quite right to him. Like you’re running from something that would be too uncomfortable to walk on. 

“Are you- is everything okay?” Is all he can muster instead.

“I was just about to give you head, and you stopped me to small talk. I think I should be asking you that.”

You get up from your kneeling position on the floor, ego clearly bruised as you cross your arms in front of your chest – an act that seems childish to Jungkook and it’s then he’s glad he stopped you. 

“I’m sorry. I- fuck. I want you to- do that. Very much so. It’s just… I don’t get you, ___.”

“What do you want to get? What is there to get?” You grow exasperated, eyes avoiding his. 

“I don’t know, that’s the thing. Do you want to come in?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding apologetic. His voice holds a world of patience that you could never hold, or have received, in your life. “We can talk here.”

“I don’t want to talk, to be honest. So, in that case, I better get going.” You turn around, still fighting yourself so as not to look at him. So as not to meet his eyes. it’s a combination of embarrassment and that same lingering feeling that you can’t quite put words on. That feeling you don’t intend on putting words on.

“You’re gorgeous. And funny. Even if it makes you a little mean sometimes. I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you-”

You interrupt him, your piercing gaze landing on his tender one. “When? When I was trying to fuck your best buddy?”

“No. I, uh, first saw you at a party. At Yoongi’s I’m pretty sure.”

“So, what was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did they say to make you want me?”

“I- it wasn’t like that.”

You’re not getting anywhere with this conversation. At least nowhere that you find useful anyways. You didn’t come here to talk about feelings, much less the root of them. You sigh, rolling your eyes and feigning defeat. 

Your strategy changes.

“Listen, I came here because I owe you one.” There’s a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he says.

“Okay, then. It’s just simple generosity. I want to fuck you. I can’t get it out of my head, so might as well get it out of my system.”

His eyes widen – it shocks him to hear you say it so bluntly like that. 

“I-”

You take a step closer to him. “Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“I changed my mind. I do want to come in,” your voice is sultry and he knows you’re playing. He knows you don’t want to ‘come in’ to talk, like he propositioned the first time. He’s also aware that he should do better, stand his ground. Be smarter than this. But, 

He nods. 

Your lips are on his and you kiss him exactly the way he wants you to. Slow and deep, coaxing him into it before your tongue is grazing his bottom lip as he parts his mouth, granting you entrance as your tongues meet. 

“This is all I could think about,” you say, lips never parting from his. Your tone is sensual and it buzzes electricity all through his body. “Ever since you left my car, all I could think about was kissing you.”

He doesn’t know if you’re being genuine. More so, he doesn’t know if it’s your heart or your body speaking. With the way your chest flushes to his, a little moan escaping your mouth at the feel of his taut muscles grazing your nipples, he figures it’s probably the latter. 

“Yeah?” he says, brain too foggy with lust.

“Yeah- I want you so bad.” It’s a whisper.

“Fuck.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him. You give a little jump, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding tightly to him, wanting to feel him everywhere. He walks backwards, his free hand squeezing your ass from underneath your skirt. It’s so short, granting him easy access as he kneads the flesh. You’re soft and plump all over and now he’s the one moaning into your mouth. 

The back of his knees hit the couch and he lowers his body, sitting down with you still on top of him, straddling his lap. You let out a giggle, giddy and excited. Pleased from getting exactly what you wanted. You grind your hips tentatively against his, emitting a hiss that passes through his reddened lips. They’re so red and pretty from your kisses and bites; you let yourself stare at him, basking in the way his eyes fight to stay open. He lets you stare – he lets you look at him, cheeks flushing at your intense gaze but suddenly confident, so different like this. You circle your hips and a raspy moan leaves him, fingers digging into your hips, head hitting the back of the couch and eyes shutting close. It feels so good, even through the layers, and the mere idea of being inside you drives him wild. 

“Jungkookie,” you say, voice low. 

“Hm,” he says, eyes back to you. 

“I’m gonna blow you now.”

“Shit,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Yeah- yes. Please.”

You palm the center of his chest, pushing him back with enough force to snap him into the moment. You make your way down, kneeling before him, sitting pretty between his legs, thighs thick and strong on your fingers and you feel your mouth water at the anticipation. Not wanting to waste any more time, your fingers hook inside the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling down. He’s not wearing anything under and you have to fight the urge not to roll your eyes – this time from pleasure, not annoyance. 

His palms push into the couch, fighting his pleasure to keep his eyes open so he can take you in – take you in through every step of the way. The moment his sweatpants come past his hips, your eyes zero in on his cock. He’s big and you don’t fight it when your eyes widen at the sight of him. But beyond that, he’s hard and pretty. Probably the prettiest in your book, a vein running from base to tip, leaking a bead of precum. He hisses the moment you wrap your hand around him, so overwhelmed from the feeling it almost feels like he’s running away from you, sinking into the couch further. He feels hot and heavy in your hold and you give a tentative stroke, gaze locked on his as you let out a little scoff. 

“You know, Jungkook…,” you start. “You don’t necessarily carry yourself in relation to your attributes.”

You’re using big words on him and he’d be lying if he said he was following. All he can think of is how warm and soft your hand feels wrapped around his cock, the way your lips move as you speak – red and plump, and he burns in anticipation thinking about how they’re going to look wrapped around him. 

“W-what do you mean?”

You don’t answer his question right away, taking him by surprise as you lower your head and wrap your pretty lips around his tip, tongue coming out to tease his slit before circling his head, eyes never leaving him. His eyes widen for a second before his lust wins the race, tightly shutting them close as he throws his head back in pleasure with a throaty moan. You take him all the way in, a quick motion that has him hitting the back of your throat and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook swears he’ll never feel this way again. His hand wraps around your neck, looking up at you with hazy eyes. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, his teeth releasing the plumpness of his bottom lip.  

You smile, pleased with yourself as you grant him pleasure, mouthful of him still as you say, “your cock is so big.”

It’s filthy. Your words, the fact that you still have him in your mouth, drool dripping down your chin and eyes watery. Your words vibrate against him and it makes his cock throb, a whine passing his lips. 

“Thanks,” is all he can manage.

“You’re welcome,” you say – another lusty smile his way. You’re so pretty like this. Scratch that, you’re so pretty always, but the image before him ticks all the boxes of the most epic wet dream he’d ever had. Fuck, it’s so good he doesn’t even think his imagination ever ran this wild. 

You resume, tongue traveling upwards as it follows that vein, it pulses for you, encouraging you to go lower, your throat closing around the head of his cock. His hand travels to your cheek as he moans, caressing softly – a little impatiently, like he’s trying to ground himself. Your name leaves his lips in a whisper as you continue your obliterating pace, the noises filling the space lewdly. 

His head draws back and his teeth sink into the pink flesh just as your tongue licks tentatively at his frenulum, the overpowering sensations making him hiss, balls feeling heavy at the wake of his pleasure. Your eyes never leave him, catching every single face he makes, every single noise you pull out of him with ease. It’s turning you on, how receptive he is – easy and malleable in your hands. Your mouth releases him with a pop, your fist tight around his shaft as you jerk him. Your lips travel to his balls, his big round eyes widening even further as you suck one into your mouth, carefully rolling it with your tongue. He groans, hips involuntarily fucking into your hand, seeking speed. You grant it, hand going faster, your thumb teasing his slit on the upstroke. 

Your tongue hits sweet spots he’d never imagine would illicit such reaction from him, let alone strip him of all inhibitions. You suck between his balls, your mouth gentle but firm as your tongue sneaks out to lick a thick stripe all the way up his shaft before you’re enclosing your lips around him once again. His balls feel tight, tummy sinking at the feeling as his legs begin to shake. You encourage this reaction by sinking your nails in his thighs, leaving a trail of red marks on his skin. 

“F-fuck. Slow- slow down,” he hisses, bottom lip trembling to the rhythm of his fingers on your cheek. 

“Why?” You tease, eyes feigning innocence. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep going like that- fuck,” his words drag with the way your tongue circles his tip, his gaze locked on the sensuality of the action, the way you make sure he’s watching. You look a mess, so fucked out already and he catches a tear that falls from your eyes, his thumb gentle on your skin. 

“And what’s so wrong with that, Jungkookie? Hm?”

“I want to fuck you.” Not an ounce of hesitation in his voice as he keeps scanning your face, gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips, indecisive on where to look. 

It makes your pussy throb, to hear him talk like that. You smirk, holding onto his thighs as you push yourself off from your kneeling position on the floor, landing right back into his lap as you straddle him once again. 

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, searching for his lips, nails running down his scalp. “Yeah, I want you to fuck me.” Your words get lost in the kiss, but the way he touches you lets you know you’ve made yourself clear.  His hands snake under the thin fabric of your top, holding onto your waist; his touch is firm yet doesn’t lack that tenderness he often holds, almost timidly making its way up. Your skin is soft under his fingers and he feels the way you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin. His kiss only deepens, big hands gripping your waist tight, bringing you closer to him before his big hands are cupping your tits. He moans as he feels the plump flesh and the sweet sound makes you buck your hips into his.

Jungkook sighs, feeling bold enough to discard of your top, mouth dropping to your nipple. His wet tongue circling around it once before he sucks, your back arching to give him better access as your grip tightens in his hair, pulling a little, letting him know he’s making you feel good. So good.

“Get me ready,” you pant, but he seems to be too lost in his ministrations. “Get me ready for your fat cock.”

He looks back up at you, kissing you fervently, groaning against your lips as his hand travels down and under that pleated skirt that’s been driving him wild for weeks now. Maybe even months. He feels how wet you are through your panties and he doesn’t hesitate when he sneaks two of his fingers in, coating them in your slick. He teases you a little, putting pressure on your clit before he’s fucking his fingers into you. You get even tighter as you clench around them, moaning into his mouth at the stretch. It feels electric already and he hasn’t even moved. He scissors his fingers inside of you, coaxing your snug walls, getting you ready as you requested. 

Your hand travels down, holding onto his wrist, stalling his move inside of you for a moment. He looks confused, gaze on yours waiting on your next move. You begin to circle your hips, small and sloppy movements over his fingers, fucking yourself on them. You sigh, closing your eyes when you feel the way he hooks his digits inside of you, immediately reaching your sweet spot. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Jungkook’s cock jerks at the sight and you can feel it against your knuckles, hot and heavy – ready for you. 

“I’m so wet, I’m making a mess.” You look down at his hand, glossy and covered in your juices the more you move around. You’re crass with your words, but he can’t help sensing a little bit of suppleness in your tone, like you’re suddenly shy even though your actions scream far from. 

“Don’t care. Want you to make a mess, so fucking bad.” He groans, kissing you again – needier this time. Harsh, hungry. 

“I’m gonna cum.”

He hums against your lips, his free hand coming to hold your hip, stilling your movements as he takes over once more. Fingers pushing where he knows it makes you shudder and whine into his kiss, thumb circling your clit to finish throwing you over the edge. You shake in his hold, soft moans passing your lips, your grip on his wrist tightening, nails digging on his shoulder as you come down. 

“You’re so pretty.” And he wants to leave it at that, because it’s the simple truth. But he adds to the compliment, “when you cum. You’re so fucking pretty when you cum.”

You give him a little smile, it’s lazy and fucked out, your eyes glassy when you finally open them. You don’t answer, opting for kneeling over his lap, his fingers sliding out of you reluctantly, but he recovers quickly when he sees the way you take your panties off on wobbly legs, one after the other. 

“Want me to keep this on?” You ask, toying with the hem of your skirt.

He sighs dreamily, boyish smile on his face as he nods. “Yeah.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, feigning annoyance when in reality, you’re loving it. Not just this little filthy exchange, but everything. The noises he makes, his touch on your skin, the words that fall from his lips as he peaks pleasure. It’s doing more to you than just getting it out of your system, and before you can dwell on that thought long enough for it to scare you, you reach for his cock. 

He reaches for the brown bag he managed to throw next to him on the couch, grabbing the box of condoms you brought. It’s hard to focus on opening it with one shaky hand as you jerk him, biting your lip in anticipation. Once he finally manages, he retrieves one of the foil packages, bringing it between his teeth to rip it open. He looks down, mesmerized by the way your small hand barely wraps around him. He hisses when he feels the loss of it and you lean on his thighs to give him space, watching as he rolls the condom on. 

“Come here.”

You oblige, hands landing on his shoulders as you line yourself over him, the tip of his cock accidentally nudging your clit a little, making you whine. He smiles, nudging it again, purposely this time and teasing you with it until you’re squirming and pouting, clenching around nothing. You’re wet, more than ever, but he’s big and you should’ve probably bought lube, too. Then again, you had no idea he was hiding that in his pants, it would’ve been bold of you to assume. Almost like he’s reading your mind, he lets a string of saliva drop to his fingers, bringing it down to your entrance and then coating his cock with the same two fingers and both your juices combined. 

The first stretch burns, sharp and uncomfortably as his swollen tip passes through the tight ring of muscle. You both gasp, consumed in the feeling right away, almost as if the pain wasn’t there because you want more. And so, you brave it, sinking into his cock, inch by inch, mewling at the feeling, tears pricking your eyes. He can see you’re in discomfort, gently holding onto your waist so he can still you, biting his lip so hard when he feels the way you clench around him. Pushing his desire away for a second, he brings you closer to him. He cups your face with his hand, rubbing at your cheek, pecking your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth, littering the affection all over until his lips are traveling from your jaw all the way to your neck. He kisses on that tender spot that makes you shiver; makes you feel so good and oddly comforted until all you can feel is his wet kisses on your skin. 

You start to move, slowly at first as you bounce on his cock, the whimpers that pass his lips encouraging you until the pain morphs into pleasure and your body instinctively ups the pace. It’s quick, the way your desperation grows. Hands reaching out for him, sinking into his hair, his jaw, the nape of his neck. Your teeth bite into his bottom lip, strong enough to illicit a sharp hiss from him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he pouts, eyes struggling to stay open. He keeps his gaze on you and it’s his dark eyes and a particular sway of your hips that has you whining in pleasure, eyes closing and mouth opening as the feeling takes over you. “Yeah, fuck. So pretty when I make you feel good.” 

“It feels so good, Jungkook.” You find your words, though your head feels foggy, dizzy with the way you can feel your tummy tighten when his hands grab at your ass, squeezing some before he begins to help you move on him. 

He can tell you’re close to tipping, reading your body – the way he’s literally fucking you speechless, which seems to be very contradictory to the way you usually carry yourself. Your cunt has a tight grip around his cock, and he can feel the way it pulses when you sink yourself on him to the brim. You stay there, feeling so full, head dropping to his shoulder as your hand palms your lower tummy and you swear you can feel him there. 

You’ve been riding him slowly, wanting to savour him like this, but your legs feel the burn nonetheless. Not to mention the fact that you’re so overwhelmed, body on high alert, his touch leaving a trail of static behind it. And he knows – he knows because quicker than you can register his movements, he’s flipping you onto your back on the couch. His cock slips out of you and your legs close at the loss of him, making him let out a cocky chuckle. You’d retaliate, but you lose focus when he starts to remove his white oversized shirt, ogling him unapologetically. Your legs fall to your sides, opening yourself for him once again, making him grin. You’d wipe it off his face, bring your hand to your heat and make him falter, muster up a cocky remark – but your own colors fail you, and you smile at him. It’s sweet and Jungkook doesn’t miss it and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart skip inside his heaving chest. You remove your skirt and he follows its path until it hits the floor, eyes then focused on what he wants the most – right in-between your thighs. 

His warm hands run over your thighs slowly and you plea, “don’t tease.”

 “Would never.”

But he does. Grabbing the base of his cock, giving a shallow thrust, wetting the head of his cock before he’s playing with your clit for a moment, making you squirm until he’s fucking into you once again. He repeats this a couple of times, eyes glued to where he teases you, traveling up to see your face break in pleasure. The angle is perfect and every time he sinks into you, he hits that spot, if only for a second before he has you mewling again by circling his tip on your clit. Your head sinks into the couch, fingers playing with your nipples lazily as you focus on what he does to you. 

“I could cum like this if you do it for long enough.” Your tone is airy and he can hear the smile in your voice. 

“Yeah?” His finger travels down, joining his cock as he pushes his digit inside the snug space of your walls for a second, collecting your slick before coating your bundle of nerves with it. You bite on your lip, nodding at him. “You wanna?”

You shake your head, holding onto his hips. “No. I want you to fuck my brains out now. Wanna feel you even after you’re done with me.”

And fuck if that isn’t enough encouragement for him to fall onto you, making you laugh a little as his forearms land on either side of your head, promptly finding his lips and kissing him deep. He moans into the kiss in sheer anticipation, your legs circling around his waist, heels sinking into his ass as you motion for him to move. 

He fucks you deep at first, testing the waters before he’s going faster – a bit harder, too, the more you moan into his ear, bury your nails down his back hard enough for him to wince in pain, pleasure, excitement even. He kisses you where he can, the crook of your neck as he breathes into it, your collarbones when desire wins and he redirects his gaze to where your bodies meet. You search for his lips and he gives them to you, sloppy and messy and wet when your tongues play with one another’s. 

“Fuck- right there, right there. Please don’t stop.”

His hips are angled just right and your legs close around his waist, feeling so close to the edge you sob a little. His face comes up, missing the warmth of your neck already but it’s all worth it when his eyes meet yours, your fucked out face twisted in pleasure. You look so naughty, not an ounce of shame in the way your face depicts a perfect picture in how good he’s fucking you. In how he’s about to make you cum so hard it’s already blinding you. He wants to kiss you but he doesn’t, too enthralled to look away. 

“Fuck, please cum for me. Cum all over my cock, baby. Hm?”

You can only nod, already so close and only pushed further by his words. Another sharp determined thrust and a whine hitches in your throat, tight coil exploding inside of you until your eyes are widening in pleasure, staring right into his as you come undone around him, under him, encased by him. He’s everywhere. Your body jerks in his hold, eyes finally closing as you sink deeper into the bliss, the way he moans with you as he feels you clench around him so tight sounds like music to your ears. 

His own release is not far from yours, mind and movements hazy with lust as he fucks you faster, focused on chasing his high as you whisper filthy praises in his ear. You tell him how good he just made you feel, how hard his cock feels inside of you, his name leaving your lips in the most paradoxical of ways. Sounding too sweet for what follows. 

“Nngh- shit, I’m cumming.” He groans, so close to your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine as you feel the way he throbs inside of you, releasing a second after. 

You let him come down, wait for his breathing to get back to normal, giving yourself a moment to steady yours as well. You don’t notice the way your nails are softly caressing his back, drawing lazy patters on his flushed skin, until he shudders, a soft laugh escaping him as he says, “it tickles.”

That’s when it hits you. Your plan to touch and go crumbling to pieces the moment you realize he’s too close – that he’s been too close this whole time. Not in a physical way, but in a you’re touching more than hands can reach type of way. The kind of sex that fucks with your brain too, not just your body. 

You grunt in discomfort, shoving your shoulders into his own a little. Luckily, he gets the hint. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, coming up to a stand, stretching his neck in the process. He shoots you a smile, asking you if you’re thirsty. You nod, still entranced in your own thoughts and he disappears from your line of vision.

You don’t know why, but you just lay there. You want nothing more than to pick yourself up from his couch, dress yourself and get going. You even had an exit line rehearsed that you came up with on the drive here. 

“You’re welcome for those, by the way. Put them to good use.” Referring to the condoms you’d brought along with you. Fortune. It was simple, cheeky and playful. And most importantly, got the point across – this was not going to happen again. A one-time thing, something you had to get out of your system before you could go back to having normal fuck buddies, flirty relationships with your friends that escalated only when need be. Friendly sex, if you will. Jungkook is not your friend. This thought makes you wince. 

When he comes back, he’s wearing sweatpants that hang too low on his hips and it takes you a while to acknowledge the fact that he’s offering you a glass of water. When you frown at the gesture, his face falls.

“I have juice if you want?”

“What? No. Water’s fine. Thank you.” 

He sits down next to you, watching the way you gulp down the water in a matter of seconds. He smiles, unable to stop himself when his fingers card through your hair that’s fallen victim to your activities. He’s gentle when he unknots the mess at the back of your head. You side eye him, and though his smile drops a little, his fingers don’t. 

You panic, and he can see it in your eyes, frantically searching for something around the room. You notice how tidy his place is, nicely and minimally decorated with neutral colors. It suits him in ways you can’t explain, realizing you don’t know him enough to. 

“Uh, have you seen my shirt?” You ask.

He looks around for a second, shaking his head before he offers, “here, wear mine.”

You only accept because your body’s falling back into its normal temperature, the heat of the moment starting to disappear. It’s big and cozy and it smells like him and very faintly of you. 

“Are you okay?”

His question throws you off, piercing eyes looking at him all of a sudden as you raise a brow. “Me? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem… distant. I mean, in comparison to-”

“Well, yeah. We were fucking. Now we’re not.”

He laughs softly, even though you didn’t mean for anything you said to sound funny. “Well, yeah. I know but- we can just… ease out of it, you know? It doesn’t have to be so abrupt…”

His hand rests on your thigh, squeezing the flesh a little as he moves closer to you. “Can I kiss you?”

You’re about to quite literally shove your hand in his face and wipe that hazy grin from his face to abruptly jank him out of that post-coital glow he seems to be sporting but you’re hesitant. And it’s in that hesitation that you decide to challenge yourself. If you can kiss Jungkook without this foreign feeling forming inside your chest then perhaps it’d go away permanently. Perhaps all you needed was to indulge in the casualty of the action – to feel pleasure as just that, nothing more. 

And so, you kiss him. A pleasant surprise to say the least, making him smile lazily into the kiss. He’s not quite expecting it when you do, so the little force you put into it sends him falling back into the couch, you following after him. You let your body mold into his, the same way your lips do. You both sigh as your mouths part, his tongue licking at your bottom lip. It’s pleasurable. It feels good – kissing Jungkook feels good and there’s no ulterior motive to it. He’s just a good kisser.  

But then his hand cups your face, traveling down your neck until he’s gently running his fingers through your hair, pushing it back so he can kiss down your shoulder. Soft, tender, relaxing you to the point of incoherency because you let him, smiling and giggling into it when his lips tickle your skin.

“Fuck, that was so good,” he says, throwing his head back into the soft cushion. “I don’t know if it made me sleepy or hungry, or both…” he ponders.

You smile, kissing his jaw, your tongue following your lips as they travel down his neck – mimicking his previous actions. He hums out in pleasure, looking down at you, “are you hungry?”

You look up at him, suddenly lost in his eyes, in your thoughts, in your own pleasure. A pleasure different from the way your body feels pleasure. A pleasure you can’t quite put your finger on. 

“Uh…- I’m kinda… sleepy,” you confess. 

He nods, huffing in agreement before he’s wrapping his arms around you, moving his body to the side a little until you’re entrapped between his embrace and the couch. Your body’s too tired to fight it, ignoring the way your brain short-circuits and it doesn’t take long for his breathing to lull you into a deep sleep. 

When Jungkook wakes up, it’s dark outside. His shirt rests on top of his coffee table, neatly folded. And you’re nowhere to be found. 

~

You’ve kept busy, inevitably so. 

School work suddenly picking up, the urge to start revising for finals swarming your thoughts enough until you’re pulling all-nighters in the private study rooms at the library – isolated and focused. Even more now that it’s become dangerously easy for your thoughts to stray away from your tasks at hand and any situation you find yourself in. They stray far enough to land on him, every single time. On what you did, on how it ended. 

And it’s the latter that swarms your thoughts the most, especially during the night – in bed, trying to shut your brain enough so that you’re able to fall asleep. You think of him, of the way his arms felt wrapped around yours, his chest on yours and how you counted each breath of his until they synced with yours. You think of the way your eyes fluttered open even though your body still felt tired, not quite done with sleep yet, looking up at him, a peaceful look to his face as he snored softly. You almost fought it then, too, but his snores lulled you back to sleep. An unconventional lullaby – one that often annoyed you when and if you ever found yourself sleeping next to someone. His didn’t, and on particular nights you’d confess that you wished it was that same sound that was putting you to sleep, not your fifth ASMR video. 

When you woke up and the heaviness of the night surrounded your bodies, it felt like it settled inside your chest, too. You panicked, staring at him even though you couldn’t make much of his face in the darkness. You attempted to go back to sleep, unsure of the time, giving up on putting up a fight – at least in that very moment. You nuzzled your face on his chest, relishing in his warmth and he sighed, unconsciously pulling you closer. It felt so innocent, so uncorrupted – he looked for you in the deepest of sleeps and it was that notion that did it for you. 

The boy was a heavy sleeper, that was for sure. He flinched at the loss of you, arms stretching around him for a brief second before falling back into deep sleep – uninterrupted. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand, making you wince and taking you out of your head – out of the memories that plague it. Sydney’s calling you and when you pick up the phone, she greets you with a cheery, 

“Hello, stranger of a best friend!” 

You roll your eyes, but give in a moment later, offering a playful laugh. You’ll admit that being so inside your head and focusing on your responsibilities and your responsibilities only has made you quite irritable lately, and distant. 

“Hey, Syd.” 

“Where are you? Come hang – I’ve got snacks, buy me coffee and we’ll watch The Great British Bake-off.”

You ponder on her offer for a minute, already so used to neglecting yourself of the simple pleasures of just… hanging out with your friends. It’s only been a week of this, but the consequences are rough. 

“Iced vanilla latte with caramel, extra sweet?” 

“Ugh, be mine.”

You smile. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she sing-songs. 

You decide to treat her real nice, passing by the packed Starbucks on campus (that’s overrated, in your opinion) and heading towards the cute little food trucks that your university brings out during the warmer months of the year. They’re slightly overpriced but worth every penny, if solely for the aesthetics. Though you will admit, the food is great. The little colourful trucks all align one next to the other – your favorite coffee place, a taco shop, ramen place and the ice cream truck last. Colorful tables scattered all across the green space, good music always playing, chill or upbeat depending on the time of day, making it all seem too good to be located in campus grounds. 

You head straight for the coffee truck, the usual barista shooting you a dazzling smile the moment he spots you. You return it.

“Hey, Kian.” 

“Hey, you. Long-time, no see…” He’s cute in that, ‘and he knows it’ type of way. A true charmer. He’s tried it a couple of times, with you, and Sydney… and Sumi. You respect his boldness if anything. 

“Ugh, I know. I’ve been living in the library, busy bee me.”

“Been cheating on me by getting your caffeine fix from Starbucks?” He cocks a brow playfully.

“Why do you ask if the truth will hurt?” 

He laughs, a little obnoxiously but he pulls it well. “The usual?”

“Yep. Iced Americano and an iced vanilla latte with a pump of caramel, make it extra-”

“Sweet, for sweet Sydney.” He winks and you nod, winking back. 

You watch him work his magic, brewing the coffee as the aroma fills the air, foaming the oat milk until it’s cloudy. He makes one hell of a good coffee; you’ll give him that much. You feel giddy all of a sudden, the fresh spring air doing wonders for you already, surprised over how something so mundane as a cup of coffee and a harmless conversation with the cute barista can switch your mood for the better. You smile and Kian catches it, smiling at you for a second before he’s back to excellent coffee making. 

“You’re making me nervous, ___.” He says, half playfully and half sincerely when he sees the way you eye him. 

You raise your hands in defeat, laughing and turning around. “Okay, okay. I’ll just… stare at the-”

Your gaze doesn’t linger, snapping your face back at Kian faster than you can register what you just saw. He just thinks you’re being funny, laughing at the abruptness of your actions. But that doesn’t last either, temptation too strong to beat it, that curiosity that keeps landing you in trouble.

Jungkook.

He sits in one of the tables in front of the ice cream truck, sweet treat in hand that very well goes with the sweet smile he holds, nodding and cocking his head sweetly at the girl that sits right in front of him in the same bench. Their legs are at either side of it and their knees touch. You can’t see her face, but she’s holding a cone, two scoops of pistachio ice cream in it. You know because it’s your favorite. And because you’re a cone person, too. He isn’t, from the looks of it. He also likes mint choco, adding insult to injury. 

The wind blows all of a sudden, in heavy contrast to the heat of the season that was in full bloom only a couple of seconds ago. His hair falls right in front of his eyes, mid ice cream bite, making him shake his head to attempt (and fail) to clear his vision. You see the way she shakes her shoulders, laughing, before her fingers gently push away the fallen strands on his forehead. He smiles through his spoon, big and toothy and sweet. It’s sweet. She’s sweet, and so is he. They’re sweet. 

Your gaze must be piercing because in a matter of seconds his eyes are on yours. You divert your eyes quickly, but you can see the way his eyes go back to her, following the conversation as he nods in acknowledgement. 

“Whatever,” you mumble to yourself, mostly. 

Curiosity wins yet again and when you turn his way, for a brief second, he’s telling her something before both their eyes are on you. She nods at him and right on cue, he’s standing up, making his way towards you. 

Kian places the two coffee cups in front of you, in perfect timing. Will you run? Absolutely. Is it childish? Absolutely. But you don’t owe him anything, really. Let alone explanations. Why even acknowledge your presence? In the middle of a date, too. How rude of him! You also know this is a lie – knowing him, he was even polite about that. 

“Thank you, Ki-”

“Hey, listen… I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while,” Kian begins, his words sluggish, making you anxious as you bounce in your step. “I’m in a band.”

“Oh?” You press.

“Yeah… we’re like, indie. Pretty chill. But one day… oh, man. One day we will be huge!”

“Don’t have a doubt! Godspeed, Kian.” 

You’re about to turn around and, well, run. But God, and Kian, has other plans. Laughing, he says, “I’ve been meaning to invite you girls to come watch us play and stuff. That’d be dope. We have a show this Saturday and I’d really like for you to come; I’ll even sing one for you and everything.” 

You’re perplexed for some reason, but agreeing is quicker than making up some lame excuse so you nod your head, “Sur-”

“Hey, ___.” 

~

Lola called; she didn’t text. She sounded nervous and a bit on edge, stuttering a little on her words, engaging him in small talk before she managed to gather enough courage to ask him out. For ice cream, as she’d promised. 

“I’m free today,” but she immediately regretted it, afraid she’d sounded too pushy. “But we can do it whenever! It doesn’t have to be today. It can be tomorrow-” pushy, again, she thought. “Or next wee-”

“Actually, today sounds nice. Been studying all day, could really use a break… you up for it?” He said, even though she’d clearly just stated she was. It made her relax and he could hear it in her voice. 

“I’d love that, Jungkook.”

He knew this was going to be good for him, fresh air and a potentially nice conversation with a nice girl. She was sweet, had been texting him random sweet messages ever since their conversation in the library weeks ago. Made sure to ask about his day and got excited when he asked about hers. 

They’d met outside of the library and she’d greeted him with a hug and already, it felt nice. He was glad with his decision. He’d hibernated and isolated himself, skipping Tuesday game night and only interacting with his friends during practice and in the hallways, always in a rush getting from one class to the other. He knew why, but he couldn’t quite explain it. He only knew it had a name – your name, to be more precise. But how could he explain that? How could he explain you? 

You hadn’t broken Jungkook’s heart, but you sure had it confused. Lost and quite stubborn, wanting answers and refusing to let go until he got them. It wasn’t in his shy nature to insist, to seek out answers that could very well hurt him, or even tempt discomfort… but nonetheless, he wanted to know. He wanted to know why you just… left. He wanted to know why you even came in the first place. You’d been quite adamant in the soccer field, owning the place and stepping on his spirits, telling him not only would your previous exchange had to be secret but also that it wouldn’t be repeated. Then, mere days later, it wasn’t only repeated but intensified. Just adding layers to the enigma he’d build around you. 

But was it him? Was it all in his head? Was he simply idealizing your actions, justifying them, even if they went strongly against your words? Was he in the wrong for second guessing when that’s all you’d left for him to do? 

So, he spent his days going to class, to practice, late nights at the gym before heading for even later nights at the library. He couldn’t talk to anyone about it so he just let it eat at him from the inside out, distracting himself with whatever he could. 

Lola wasn’t a distraction. She deserved better than that, so he made sure to let himself go of… the thought of you, even if for a brief ice cream run. And truth be told, it was presenting itself to be easier than he originally thought, to just enjoy and be in the moment. With her. Just her, in front of him and in his head. 

“Listen, I have nothing against mint choco…,” she says, words in-between giggles as he playfully narrowed his eyes at her.

“But…?” 

“But it’s more of a, ‘in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s whilst you cry your eyes out watching The Notebook even though you can’t quite relate because you’re not heartbroken enough but oh is it good to indulge’ type of way. You know?” 

This makes Jungkook smile, the two of them breaking out in laughter at her rather personal confession. “Oddly enough, I know what you mean… a little.”

“Only a little?”

“Yeah, can’t speak from experience but, it sounds like it makes sense.”

“Maybe that can be our next ice cream date…” she’s shy around her words, breaking eye contact, gaze traveling down to fixate elsewhere.

“Yeah,” he says, making her look up, a smile that reaches her green eyes. “I’ll put your theory to the test…”

A gust of wind flies directly at them, her hair blowing all over the place and his bangs landing on top of his face, making her giggle at his confused expression, looking a little dumbstruck with a spoonful of ice cream sitting between his teeth. Lola thinks he’s cute – everything about him. Her fingers are a little shaky but she manages, pushing his bangs away from his forehead, big eyes coming to view once again. The tip of her finger gently grazes against his forehead and he blinks slowly. Butterflies swarm her tummy, wanting him to kiss her so bad and hopeful he just might. 

His eyes seem a little lost for a second before he’s smiling at her once again. Her spirits deflate a little but she smiles back.

“Hey, uh… I see my friend,” he says, pointing at your direction. He doesn’t want to lie to her but he doesn’t let much of the truth to come out either. She turns around, eyes catching yours for a brief second before you turn around. You’re pretty and she has a feeling she’s seen you before. 

“Oh…”

“Haven’t been able to reach her and there’s something I have to tell her,” that’s a lie, Jungkook doesn’t even have your number. He sees the way Lola’s face falls a little. He lies, and he hates it. “It’s no biggie, just passing a message. We’ve got friends in common. It’ll be a minute, yeah?”

She smiles again, feeling a little relieved. “Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it.” 

He smiles and she feels hopeful. 

~

“Hey.” It’s all you say, a tight-lipped smile his way before you’re turning back to Kian, with all the intention of fleeting the scene, coffees in hand. 

“So, you’ll come?” Kian asks, making Jungkook curious, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. He has no right, anyways.

“Sure. Text me the address!”

“But I don’t have your number,” he says, pouting a little obnoxiously.

“DM me on insta!” 

He thinks for a second. “I don’t have that either…”

“It’s just my name!” 

The second he nods, you turn around, casually walking away from the mess you found yourself in. 

Jungkook speed walks a little after you, and you can feel his presence behind you. 

“Hey,” he reaches for your arm, making you turn around, a scowl to your face that makes him wince a little. He takes a step back, not wanting to invade your personal space. “Uh… can we- can we talk? Please?”

You decide to play it cool. “Sure. Talk.” The smile on your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

And the truth is, Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to talk to you about. Since you left him that day, he’s thought about close to a million things he’d want to tell you, ask you, have you tell him, but now that you’re in front of him, kind of willing… he’s out of ideas. 

So, he just opts for the easiest one. “Why did you leave… that day we- yeah.”

“Why would I have stayed?” You ask him, like it’s obvious. A little rhetorical even.

“You didn’t- I mean, if you wanted to leave, of course. You just didn’t say goodbye or anything…” his voice is calm, and this makes you even more anxious. Something that feels awfully like guilt settling right in your chest.

“You were sleeping.”

He gives you a knowing look, like both you and him know that’s not really the reason why you left, let alone the answer to his question.

“Listen, that conversation we had in the soccer field that one time… it still stands, okay? Nothing has changed.” You say.

“Only it has? You came to me. And we had sex. So… yeah, something has changed. If only the facts, but… something.”

You roll your eyes at him, crude and exasperated at this point. “Fine. We fucked. I was curious, had to burn out that curiosity. That’s all. Factual. Nothing has changed, in theory.”

“You were curious?” He says, in slight disbelief. 

“Yeah.”

“I get that but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “But I’m not just…- something that you can use to, appease your curiosity… I guess.” He’s unsure of his own words, knowing he sounds hurt and so very out of your left field because that’s what you’re used to. Bodies, not people. To appease instant gratification. And he wishes he could be just that if only to not have you look at him the way you are now, slightly regretful and shocked at his words. 

“I apologize, won’t happen again – trust me.”

“No,” he reaches out for you once again when you turn to leave. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“But that’s all I wanted. Considered it done on my part. I wanted to know and now I do. And I’ve closed chapter – you should, too. It meant nothing, Jungkook.”

He can only stare at you, trying to process your words – making mental fucking laps around it as if to keep it from reaching his heart. As if to try to pretend your words don’t hurt.

You sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry. I mistook the situation, you’re not… that type of guy, and I guess I am that type of girl. If I sent mixed signals then, I hope this makes it clear. It was a mistake, so… sorry, I guess.”

When he says nothing, just gives you a weak nod, you give him another one of your characteristic smiles. Those that he often gets when he finds himself in these situations with you, this one by the far the hardest. It’s so different from the smiles you’d given him the last time it was just the two of you, alone. Fulfilling your curiosities. 

But your curiosities have a name and explanation: lust. No last name, no need to elaborate.

He watches you leave, feeling like he’s just been punched in the gut. 

Or the heart.

What the hell does he know, really. 

~

I'd give jungkook one million hugs. pls :((((. im sorry kookie. I hope u guys enjoyed this!!! do let me know if u did, let's talk - I miss u a ton. love u. xxxxx <3333

★taglist★

@yoongimentita7 @lil-sracha @angelicalhoney @sfneyjsjgyjdyndhndyn @ppeachyttae @rockinpretty @mwitsmejk @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @rhaegaled @ruclements @mctete @oopsthi @ellesalazar @kpopssuregi @eonninja @cambo-backwards @jiimiinsii @jalexad @primadonnasdream @suzysuee @carolsummerlove @kokoandkookie @tbzhub @chimswae @bbtsficrecs @mschievous247

let me know if u wanna be added <3

[holylulusworld]

Bloody Nightmares (3)

Title: Bloody Nightmares (3)

Written for @negans-lucille-tblr​ birthday bash celebration. I chose Demon!Dean for my entry. 

Category 1 (prompt) was: “Imma take your pain if you take mine”

Category 2 was: orgasm denial

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dean wants to keep his promise and finally break you…

Pairing: Demon!Dean x fem!Reader, Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, dub!con, fingering, implied smut, light pussy slapping, spanking (with a belt), manipulation, choking (light), orgasm denial,  dom/sub relationship, a hint of Sir kink, hopeful ending?

<< Part 2

You cover your ears with your hands. The screams of your former boyfriend seem to never end. It’s like he’s mocking you with his pain to remind you it’s your fault he came here.

“Dean,” you whisper while rocking back and forth on your shared bed. It’s been so long since he held you in his arms, telling you sweet words.

Now all you got from the creature claiming to be your lover are goosebumps and bruises.

“It will be over soon,” your heart pains and you can’t stop the tears running down your cheeks. Sam tries anything to cure his brother, but is it really enough? Can he save Dean or will the creature with black eyes keep on haunting your dreams forever? “One way or another.”

You shudder as the room seems to grow colder. The screams finally subsided, and you can hear Sam in front of your room. The hunter asked you to not get close to the dungeon or leave your room.

“You should sleep a bit,” Sam says, awkwardly standing in front of your room. He touches the now healed wound on his stomach, feeling the scar his brother left in a rage. “It’s almost done. He will be back soon, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you murmur, not able to speak any louder. “I’ll be waiting here, Sammy.”

Red. When your eyes snap open you see red and hear the alert of the bunker. Your blood runs cold. You know this game. You know what will come after red.

“Heya, sweetheart,” Dean slams the door shut, locking it. He smirks darkly, eyes glued to your trembling form on the bed. “I must say, being cured feels so damn good.”

His eyes flash black but it seems he struggles while doing so. “Dean, please. Sam was so close to healing you. Let him finish what he started.”

“You know,” he steps toward the bed to drop the first blade onto it. “A guy could get the wrong idea when his girl always talks about his brother. How about you come over here to show me you’re still mine?” he dips his head, impatiently waiting for you to come to him. “I’m waiting, Y/N.”

“Dean, please…”

“Tell you what,” Dean tugs at the blanket covering your shivering body as you look up at him like a deer in the headlights. “You are still my cute lil’ bunny. I can smell your pussy from here and she waits for me to fill her.”

“Dean—” you bite your lower lip, not denying your body reacts to Dean’s closeness. It’s a natural reaction that you seek his closeness and approval. “Please.” 

You don’t know if you beg him to stay and give you what your body is missing for months or to let you go. Either way, Dean rips the blanket out of your hands to reveal your vulnerable form to him. “Beautiful as always.”

“Oh—I,” your cheeks heat up at the intensity in his gaze. Dean steps closer to the bed, the first blade is long forgotten as he hungrily drinks your body in. 

“Take off your clothes,” he purrs, eyes piercing green now. “Hands and knees, bunny baby. I want to see that sweet ass of yours and your cunt drip for me. 

“Dean, I,” swallowing thickly you try to resist the urge to do as he says. “Please don’t hurt me. I—please.”

“I would never hurt a good bunny, an obedient one,” he muses, stepping closer again to tower over you. “Never.”

“O-kay,” while you slowly unclasp your bra Dean strips his shirt off. He smirks darkly, already smelling your arousal as you shimmy out of your panties to roll onto your belly, sticking your ass out. “Dean.”

“Hmm…that’s how I like my girl,” you feel the bed dip before his hands grasp for you. He brings you upright, forces your back against his chest. One large palm wraps around your throat, making you gasp. “Such a good girl now.”

“I’ve missed you, Dean,” he squeezes your throat, hips pressing hard into your rear. 

“You can do better,” as you struggle to breathe, Dean slips his free hand between your legs, to slap your pussy. You scream, feeling the sting arouse you even more. “What did you just call me?”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you love he pinches your clit to give you something in return. “I’ll be good.” You choke the words out, struggle to tame your racing heart. “Please.” Dean loosens the grip on your throat but won’t let go.

“I can feel the throbbing pain in your cunt,” his tongue licks a stray tear off your cheek, “you need me to fill you good. How about this? You will take my aching cock, and I fill your lonely cunt. Imma take your pain if you take mine.”

“I’ll be so good,” the demon chuckles darkly, knowing he bent you to his will once again. 

“Did you say the same thing to my brother?” you end up on your belly, Dean on top of you. His teeth sink in your neck to leave a mark, making you cry out. “Answer me, little bunny. The big bad wolf will devour you now, but it depends on your answer if you get to cum.”

“No, I would never—” he takes his warmth away to kneel behind you; blunt nails raking over your skin. “I swear, Sir.”

You wait for his next step, listening closely as he unbuckles his belt. A shudder runs through your body feeling the rough leather slide over your skin only seconds later.

“Good girls get to cum but,” he lifts your ass, groaning as your arousal hits his sensitive senses, “you were a bad girl lately.”

He slaps your ass with his belt, breaking something more than your skin. Tears run down your face. Tears of shame, guilt, and pleasure as you try to keep the noises low. This is what you were craving for months.

Punishment. Your will to resist, to tell the demon to get lost is broken, as he slaps your ass again, and again, and again until you beg him for forgiveness. “Please, Sir. I’ll be a good girl now.”

“You’ll do more than beg me for forgiveness to make things up to me,” his thumb traces the marks he left with his belt. He enjoys you shudder at the slightest touch but don’t make a sound. “Look at you, taking your punishment so well, little bunny. I will make you regret you ever let Sammy pump blood into my veins.”

It feels like hours to you. Hours of hoping and praying. Not for salvation or a savior coming to your rescue. No, for release. Dean snatched your orgasm out of your hands for what feels like hours and now, all you can do is cry.

“Fuck that felt good, didn’t it? Well, at least to me,” Dean smirks as he slips out of you once again. His cum leaks out of your abused sex; ruins the sheets underneath you. “Aw, don’t pout baby bunny.” 

He grips your face roughly with his large hand to peck your chapped lips, kissing you greedily. “Please, I can’t—” you choke on your words. There is no rational thought left, only the need to cum. Slick runs down your thighs, just like Dean’s cum and you feel embarrassed and carefree at the same time. “I need to cum.”

“My cute lil’ bunny wants to cum,” he leans closer, tongue sliding over your cheek to lick the tears off your skin. “How bad do you want to cum?”

“So bad, Sir,” a needy whine leaves your lips as you try to grind against his hardening cock. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Of course, you will,” Dean smirks darkly down at you. “You’re my good girl and I love my good girl. Now, do you want me to make you cum fast or—”

“Slow,” you cry, grasping for his shoulders. “Please. I want it to hurt. Dean, wreck my body. Make me fall so hard it breaks me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he fills you once again, wiggling his hips to press against your g-spot, to torture you, “I planned to break you all along.”

You wake to silence this time. 

Shortly after Dean tried to break you even more, with pleasure this time, Sam kicked the door open to drag his brother off you.

You roll over, groaning at the soreness in your body. “Fuck, what did I do? How could I let a demon ruin me like that?” covering your eyes with one arm you sigh deeply. “This is a nightmare. A bloody one. Maybe it would’ve been better if he killed me…”

“She’s waiting for you in there,” Sam points at the room you share with Dean. “Whatever happened last night, you should talk to her, Dean.”

“Nothing happened,” Dean dips his head to glance at his brother, feeling bile rise in his throat. “I should talk to her, I guess...”

Dean hides you begged him to make it hurt and that you experienced the most intense orgasm as he held you down, growling insults in your ear.

“Sweetheart,” looking down on you on the bed, Dean frowns. You are curled in a ball, ass sticking out from under the blanket. “Shit, your ass looks awful. Does it still hurt?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he leans over your trembling body, large hand curling around your upper arm.

“Yes, Sir,” he pecks your neck, tries to ground you as his warm hand caresses the marks he left on your ass. “So good.”

“I’m going to take care of you now, sweet bunny…Now and forever...” 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed ii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: You know Min Yoongi loves you when he invites Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Not just for you, but for Jungkook too. You would have been cool with it being a one-time thing. BTS are busy after all. 2021 New Year’s Eve Live just aired and Jungkook’s in your Twitter search history again. But surely Yoongi wouldn’t ask Jungkook to drop by again... and watch?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they’re fluffy and in love); tiny bit of crack; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, m-receiving oral, face-fucking, fingering, thigh-riding, cowgirl, handjob, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 NYEL

it’s mostly JK smut with a bit of Yoongi, he’s still recovering after all

–

“You looked so handsome.”

He chuckled as you ran your hands through his black locks, damp from his shower.

“Seeing you with them on stage again makes me so happy.”

He smiled, hands on your waist, letting you mess with his hair.

“Me too,” your boyfriend said softly, looking so beautiful, so perfect, just like this, bare-faced and happy.

You placed your forehead against his exposed one, looking into his dark brown eyes. He looked amused, as if he knew what you were going to say.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“Ah, yes, tell me more,” Yoongi purred. “Tell me how much of a perfect man I am.”

You laughed, lifting your head. “No, no, I’ve decided against that,” you played along, shaking your finger at him. “Because you didn’t immediately say ‘I love you’ back.”

Yoongi scrunched up his face. “Hah…” He looked away. You prodded him in a nose and he gave you a disgruntled huff, ears turning red. He wasn’t keeping it from you because he didn’t love you. He was keeping it from you because he was being difficult on purpose. You tapped his cheek.

“Wa-a-ting, lil meow meow…”

He glared at you disapprovingly.

“Lil…” You leaned down, next to his heated ear. Speaking softer, slower. “Meow meow.”

“I love you,” Yoongi grumbled.

Your hands ran down his chest, nails against the white t-shirt fabric, breathing heavier, more sensually. He sucked in a tight breath.

“Don’t,” he warned.

You stopped and sighed, falling beside him, on his right. “Ah, you’re right. Sorry,” you apologized, rubbing your brow. “I got carried away.”

Yoongi sighed. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

You reached down to intertwine your fingers with his right hand. “I know. I can tell.”

“… Shut up.”

He knew you were addressing the tent in his pants that you very much wanted to touch.

“If I just blow you, it should be fine?”

Yoongi sighed again, shaking his head. “No, because I can’t reciprocate as well as I would like and that’s not fair to you.”

You didn’t press it. That kind of thing didn’t matter to you, but it mattered to Yoongi, so you let it be. Maybe you could have done it anyway, but you knew that wouldn’t make him happy. It was better to simply wait, even if he was allowed to be on stage again, at least partially. He was recovering at a good pace. Both of you agreed to be patient and sometimes had to keep the other in check.

“When do you have to go back to work?” he asked quietly.

“Soon.”

“You don’t have to go back.”

You laughed. “And do what? Become your maid?”

Yoongi grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Someone will find out.”

His grin faltered and he leaned his head against your shoulder. “Yeah.” His voice was small, barely above a whisper. “But I’m feel the happiest when I’m with you.”

“I’m always with you, Yoongi.” You reached over and tapped the left side of his chest. “Right here.”

You felt him stiffen at your touch, a little embarrassed at the cheesy movement. His brown eyes flickered up to your face, to your smirk. Because, of course, you had done it on purpose to fluster him, even if you meant it. He pouted at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm, that’s not what your Twitter search history says.”

“E… eh?” you uttered, feeling the heat rise to your face. “You were looking through my phone?”

“Does you leaving the screen on count as looking through your phone?”

You looked away from Yoongi’s teasing eyes. You were about to say something but Yoongi squeezed your hand, leaning in closer.

“No, no, don’t say that. I want you to tell me.” His lips against your ear, sending shivers down your neck. “I want to know everything, my love.”

Shit. You could feel your heart race when he spoke like that, so low and dangerous. You tried to keep your hormones in check, not wanting to get turned on and jump him, because if he kept this up, you most certainly would.

“Ah, well… he just… looked so nice in the Dynamite and Best of Me performance. And the Mic Drop performance. Not as nice as you, of course,” you added with a slight puff of pride, squeezing his hand back.

“Nice save.”

“Hey, I mean it,” you retorted. “Hmph.”

He chuckled, raspy and lovely. “I know you do.” He kissed your ear lightly. “But I also know Jungkookie is missing his noona, so I had to make sure you were still wet for him.”

Before you make a snarky remark, the front door opened.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head back to the mischievous expression on Min Yoongi’s face.

“Y-Yoongi!” you hissed under your breath. “You’re right here!”

He ticked his head, smirking at you. “That I am.” His voice dropped several octaves as you heard the relocking of the door and the removal of shoes. “And now, so is Jungkook.”

You paled. Was Yoongi going to watch you or something? There was no way you could initiate anything sexual with Jungkook with Yoongi next to you! You felt your cheeks burn as Yoongi smirked triumphantly, pink tongue running over his teeth. Wasn’t this taking it too far–?

“Noona?” came the gentle voice of Jeon Jungkook, with just a hint of teasing. “Are you aslee–HYUNG?”

Evidently, Jungkook thought the exact same thing.

You bolted up from the bed, eyes wide as Jungkook rounded the corner and abruptly stopped, wearing an oversized long-sleeved black shirt. Black sweatpants. Black hair fluffy and curly around his cheeks, looking so soft that you wanted to run your fingers through it. He was taken aback at the appearance of Yoongi, who lifted himself from the bed like a cat, in one smooth motion. His right hand raised and ruffled his shorter black hair, raspy chuckle on his lips as he witnessed your and Jungkook’s equally stunned expressions.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped down and he looked away quickly, realizing Yoongi was in his boxer briefs and still semi-hard from being so close to you. His eyes darted everywhere in the room, unable to look at you or Yoongi. There were probably a million things going on in his head as he fixated on a spot on the floor, eyes open and unblinking.

One, it was obvious why he was there.

Two, Yoongi was also here?

Three, if he looked at you sexually, wouldn’t that be weird, because Yoongi was here??

Four, why is Yoongi here???

“I should g-go–” Jungkook sputtered, angling his body away from the bedroom.

“Jungkook, come here.”

Yoongi’s stern voice froze the younger man in mid-movement, leg raised awkwardly in the air. Jungkook was still not looking at either of you.

“You came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Ah… hyung, I was only–”

“Don’t insult my girlfriend by pretending you don’t want her.”

You could tell those words made Jungkook pause. He turned around, slowly, eyes flickering to Yoongi’s calm face. Yoongi cocked his head at in your direction, dark brown eyes boring into Jungkook’s. You sat there, frozen in one of Yoongi’s oversized t-shirts, witnessing the interaction that was probably a lot more tense for you and Jungkook than it was for Yoongi. Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, revealing the tiny mole under it, uncertainty etched on his features.

“She’s already told me how good you made her feel.”

Jungkook flinched. His eyes flickered to you. “R-really?”

“W-well… he asked?” you replied, wringing your hands nervously. “He wanted to know the details.”

Jungkook’s tan skin paled a bit. “O-oh…”

Yoongi cracked his neck, sliding into his computer chair. He seemed very pleased with himself. Too pleased. Smug, even. “I especially liked the part where you spanked her. She can be a bad girl sometimes.”

Instantly, Jungkook turned into a tomato. “T-that was in the h-heat of the moment, I s-swear…”

“Yeah?” Yoongi hummed knowingly.

You made the mistake of looking at Yoongi’s eyes. Dark and alluring, noticing your gaze immediately and honing in on it. His lips curved into his trademark open-mouthed smirk. Fuck. You loved it when he did that. Too much. He knew it too. Fuck. Fuck. Yoongi was doing it on purpose, enjoying his effect on you as he ran a pale hand through his hair, separating the dark strands, flexing his fingers as he did so.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Take off the shirt.”

He was staring at you, so he obviously meant you. You gulped.

“Yoongi, are you su–”

He interrupted you, dark eyes flashing. “Take it off.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook, whose doe-like brown eyes were fixated on you too, unable to look away now because Yoongi had given you an order. And you could tell Yoongi that you weren’t going to do it, but Jungkook was wanting it, needing it, the tent in his pants growing, anxiously chewing his pink lip raw, and, fuck, you could refuse but Jungkook looked so desperate and delectable that your fingers went to the hem of the shirt, eyes flickering back to Yoongi, who grinned at you.

Deep down, you wanted to please Yoongi too, and he seemed very, very satisfied to watch you lift the shirt up and over your head. He purred your name, in that enticing way you loved.

“Give it to me.”

You tossed it to him and Yoongi caught it in the air. The action made your tits bounce and your ass rise a little, giving Jungkook a clear view of your body in your black bra and panties, seamless, comfortable, molded so perfectly to your curves that Jungkook’s lower lip popped out of his teeth, wet and glistening as he gawked at you.

“Hyung,” Jungkook swallowed. “I c-couldn’t… not in front of you…”

Yoongi turned his attention from you to the maknae, looking unsurprised as Jungkook continued to focus on your body. The way Yoongi spoke sent hot, arousing shivers down your spine. His words sounded familiar, echoing the text he had sent you that day.

“You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

I want you to tell me.

Fuck, Min Yoongi really was your perfect man.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. If Yoongi didn’t want this to happen, he wouldn’t have let Jungkook keep the key. He wouldn’t have told Jungkook it was okay to come over. He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t want to watch. And Jungkook’s resolve was cracking with his hyung’s words and his noona’s nearly naked body right in front of him.

Jungkook breathed your name, hesitant, needy.

No honorifics.

A slow smirk grew on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you purred. “Don’t you want my taste in your mouth again?” You saw the younger man’s breathing hitch. “My hands all over you?” Jungkook was taking a step towards you now, his fluffy hair sliding down to shroud his face. Your gaze darted to Yoongi for half a second. He cocked his eyebrows, nodding at you. Telling you it was okay. You looked back to Jungkook’s hungry eyes, chest rising and falling as he approached the bed.

“My pussy squeezing your cock?”

A low groan dripped from Jungkook’s lips at your words. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“H-hyung.” Jungkook swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from you to Yoongi. “I… I won’t be able to hold back.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, settling comfortably. The expression on his face was approval, his dark brown eyes glittering with mischief, pink lips curled into a devious smirk. His tone was a low, mind-numbing drawl, the one he used when he was on top of you, cock-deep and pressing your legs against your chest, whispering dirty words right against your lips.

“Good, because she deserves everything. I want her to be ruined.”

…

You should have been more careful about your crush on Jungkook. Yoongi was definitely going to use it against you now. Ack. What was he so observant for? You wouldn’t have done anything, but now Jungkook was crawling on the bed, breathing hard, looking so delicious and hot that you couldn’t back out now even if you wanted. More hair slid in front of his left eye, covering it, the other single chocolate orb unblinking as he licked his lips slowly.

“Did you miss me, Jungkook?”

He smiled, naughty and apologetic at the same time. “So much, noona.” He stopped right in front of you, eyes roaming your body. “But I wanted to wait until Yoongi-hyung said it was okay.”

“What a good boy,” you praised and Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “When did Yoongi say it was okay?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip, eyes shifting around nervously. “Erm… this morning…”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Yoongi. The older man chuckled. “I told you Jungkookie missed being dick-deep in his noona.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined.

“Bet you jacked off thinking about it after it happened,” you teased.

“Noona…” He pouted at you. You leaned forward, breath against his lips, making him shiver.

“You can tell me,” you murmured. “I want to know.”

You reached up and pushed his long black locks out of his eyes, running your hands through his hair. Oh, so soft and luscious. He smelled so good, clean, fresh, and sensual, different from Yoongi’s pine-scented cologne, but also familiar and inviting. Jungkook lips parted at your closeness, eyes dropping down to your cleavage displayed right in front of him.

“I did,” he whispered, somewhat ashamedly. “You tasted so good.” He moved closer to you. “Smelled so good.” Closer, lips brushing against yours. “Felt so fucking good, wet and tight around my cock.”

Fuck, Jeon Jungkook was the epitome of lust.

You pressed your lips against his, inhaling his scent, tangling your fingers in his hair. He whimpered into your mouth as you kissed him hard, tongue sliding in, teasing him as you flitted it in and out. You heard Yoongi hum, as if to say, finally. Your eyes cracked open, shifting to him and his amused expression.

“Stop holding back,” Yoongi chuckled. “I know you want him more than that.”

Was he really going to heckle you this entire time? You narrowed your eyes, growling into Jungkook’s mouth and grabbing his head, raising yourself up and fucking his lips with your tongue roughly, making Jungkook moan and squirm under you, hands flying up to your waist to grab it and hold on as you sucked on his lower lip, raking it with your teeth before releasing him. Jungkook gasped, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Yoongi breathed. The arousal within you sparked as Yoongi said your name, coaxing the fire, igniting it. “You better make Jungkook scream.”

“H-hyung?” Jungkook yelped. Yelped because your hands gripped his shirt, pulling it up and over, breaking his grip on you as his head popped out, long hair flaring out as you flung it aside before sliding down to his stomach. His eyes widened as you spread your knees, ass up as your tongue slid over his abs, soft lips working on his flesh.

“A-ah, fuck…”

You drew patterns on his skin as you kissed upwards, nipping lightly, leaving little red marks. Ugh, such a beautiful body, with sculpted muscles and glorious tan skin. Your hands crawled up his sides, digging your nails in, relishing in his cries of pleasure that vibrated through his chest as you reached his pecs.

Holy hell.

Jungkook really must have been working out lately. Your fingers danced up his back, tracing the muscles, licking slowly up his sternum. You heard him inhale sharply and your eyes went up to his face, his hair hanging down, watching you with his mouth open, Adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed.

“You’re so sexy,” he panted.

You slid your head to the side, tongue dragging over his hot skin, breathing over it. He gasped as the tip touched his nipple, teasing it lightly as you raked your nails down his broad back.

The sounds he made had your panties drenched between your thighs.

You kissed your way to the other side, pressing your lips against his nipple, scratching up and down his back, snickering as Jungkook came undone above you, tipping his head back as he moaned. You kissed up his chest, to his trembling neck, pushing his head back down to you so you could kiss him again, deeply, hungrily, growling his name against his mouth. His kiss was like a drug, so addictive and euphoric, making you want him more and more, craving his shaking breath against your lips.

Your palm pressed against the front of his sweatpants, grinning as you felt his hardness throb.

Jungkook started, drawing back from your kiss, lips swollen from your roughness. You held onto him, gripping his cock through the fabric. You arched an eyebrow, smirk growing on your lips, revealing your teeth. He gulped loudly.

“I… I like it when you kiss me,” he mumbled.

“Only like?” you purred, stroking his bulge. He groaned, bucking into your hand.

“N-no,” Jungkook breathed. “I love it.”

You yanked his pants and underwear down together, dropping down, hearing Yoongi’s snicker of amusement as you came face to face with Jungkook’s length. Already so hard, tip glistening with pre-cum, waiting for your mouth. Jungkook made an anxious noise, realizing Yoongi was, indeed, still present as you swallowed his cock, taking it all in your mouth.

Your boyfriend, superstar rapper of BTS, Min Yoongi was watching you blow the golden maknae Jeon Jungkook right on his bed.

The thought made you wetter, tongue wrapping around the head and sucking hard, making Jungkook hump your mouth, gasping your name. It made him slide further down your throat, your tongue rubbing the bottom of his cock.

“Do what you do for me,” Yoongi drawled. “Lick his balls.”

“W-wait, I want to stay in her mouth a little–what the fuck,” Jungkook groaned as his head snapped down, eyes widening as he realized what you were doing. “There’s no fucking way.”

You went all the way down, the head buried in your throat, nose into his crotch, tongue extended as you licked his balls fervently, simultaneously deep-throating him and tonguing his balls. You hummed softly, adding vibrations to the list of sensations. Jungkook seemed lost of words, moaning incoherently as you rutted his cock into your throat, squeezing it. Saliva dripped down, covering his balls and your hand came up to smear it around, cupping and massaging them.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” Jungkook gasped, hardening even more, so stiff his cock bent against the roof of your mouth, barely able to fit. “H-how…?”

“Talent,” Yoongi chuckled, pleased.

You released his wet balls to place your hand on his hips, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook shuddered, thighs shaking as you began to suck harder, tighter, clamping him in your warm, wet vice, not giving him a chance to catch his breath as you built a furious pace. His balls slapped against your chin, but you ignored it, completely focused on ramming his hips into your face.

“How is your mouth so good? So perfect, fuck, hyung you’re so lucky…”

Yoongi chuckled. “What are you talking about? She’s giving it to you right now.”

Jungkook could only respond with an incomprehensible wail as you reached around, feeling for his large hand and placing it on the back of your head.

“That means fuck her face.” Yoongi spoke for you considering you had Jungkook’s entire thick cock jammed down your throat.

“Are y-you sure?” Jungkook gasped, looking down at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Do it, Jungkookie,” Yoongi nudged, his deep voice breathless and commanding. “Give her what she wants.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw and rolled his hips into your lips, gasping at the added tightness. Your brows furrowed, now completely focused on keeping your mouth and throat muscles tensed as Jungkook wildly thrusted into your face, hand gripping the back of your head, moaning so loudly that the sound filled the whole room with his lust. His muscles rippled above you, so sexy and beautiful that your whimpered around his cock, digging your nails into his hips as you held on.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi get up, his fingertips touching your ass. A familiar, sexual touch that you had longed for all this time.

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi said softly, stroking your skin as Jungkook continued to shove his cock into your face. “I’ll be careful.”

He was talking about himself, not you. He was the one you were worried about, not you. Not you as your eyes rolled back into your head, Yoongi’s fingers slipping under your panties, sliding into your wet heat, his thumb pressed against your clit. The force of Jungkook’s thrusts made you back up into Yoongi’s hand, fucking his fingers as Jungkook humped your face.

“H-hyung, I’m close…” Jungkook gasped, realizing Yoongi was now next to the bed, casually fingering your pussy as he face-fucked you.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi said calmly. “Cum down her throat.”

Jungkook slowed down a little but Yoongi growled, warning him.

“Come on, Jungkook, do it.”

And then the pace roughened, Jungkook chasing his release in your tight mouth, your jaw aching as Yoongi’s fingers buried into your folds, humming approvingly as your walls clenched around them, dripping down his palm.

“That’s it,” Yoongi breathed. “You finally get what you’ve always wanted.” He leaned down, closer to your ear, both of Jungkook’s hands in your hair to hold you in place as you squeezed the head of his cock with your throat. “And I don’t even have to do anything, since Jungkook is strong enough to do the work for both of us.”

You whined, your climax thundering into you unexpectedly with Yoongi’s deep drawl so close to you, Jungkook’s clean cologne mixed with the scent of sex coming from both you and him. Yoongi grinned as your pussy throbbed around his long fingers, viscous liquid sliding down his wrist. Your entire body shivered, vibrating Jungkook’s cock, and he moaned above you, spurting down your throat with a groan of your name. Oh, yes. So delicious and so much. You swallowed greedily, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure warmed you from your core and your mouth, sucking the drips off the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gasped, knees giving out a little, making your body dip, your hard nipples brushing against the sheets. His hands lowered, gripping your shoulders tightly. You felt Yoongi remove his fingers, licking them off, moaning in satisfaction. Slowly, gingerly, Jungkook pulled back, your lips tightening as he backed off.

“N-noona, please…”

Reluctantly, you let go. Jungkook gulped, eyes flickering to Yoongi, who turned around and went back to his computer chair, sitting back down. He looked up at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“A-ah… well…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his head.

“Does she seem satisfied to you?”

Jungkook looked over to you as you removed your panties, chucking them to Yoongi. He caught them out of the air, smirking as Jungkook’s eyes followed the journey of your panties. He jumped as he heard you open the nightstand drawer, taking out the box of condoms once again and selecting one as if you were at the fucking buffet picking a damn entrée. Jungkook wiggled out of his clothes, kicking them off the bed even as his brain considered uneasily. His body was already deciding for him.

“Uh…”

You grabbed Jungkook by the shoulders and pushed him down on the bed. He was not as dominant as he was when you were alone, but that was probably nerves due to Yoongi’s presence. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Yoongi sniffed your panties and licked them before placing them on his crotch.

You blinked at him. He gave you an open-mouthed smirk as response.

You swore Yoongi was not this freaky before he met you. He matched your wavelength in his own way and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. You slid down Jungkook’s abs, eyes still on Yoongi, careful to place your knees so Jungkook’s left thigh was trapped between them.

Then you sat down.

Jungkook gasped at the contact of your dripping wet pussy hitting his muscle. Your grinded into his thigh, looking back at into those big doe eyes as he gawked at you. You tilted your head, reaching back and unhooking your bra. You hand caught the black cups before it fell, hiding your nipples from him.

Jungkook whined as you rubbed your swollen clit against his skin.

You chuckled, gazing down at his swelling cock. “Need you to be hard for me again, Jungkookie, so I can ride you.”

He bit his lip as you continued to rub your juices onto his thigh. He tensed it under you and you hissed appreciatively, flinging your bra aside as you grabbed his cock with one hand, stroking it to full hardness as you abused your clit against his firm thigh, increasing the sensitivity. His eyes darkened from his hair covering his face, slipping to his other, more feral side, the duality so delicious you felt yourself squelch against him.

Jungkook cocked a dark eyebrow, smirk on his lips. “So wet for me. Want my cock that bad?”

You ripped the condom open, tossing the wrapper aside, matching his smirk as you rolled it down his throbbing length.

“Gonna fuck you until you can’t think anymore, Jungkook.”

And then you lifted yourself from his leg and sat down on his cock.

Jungkook gasped sharply, throwing his head back into the pillows as you fitted yourself around his stiff length, not letting him get used to it, not letting yourself get used to it as you began to smack your hips into his, his eyelids fluttering helplessly, moans radiating off the walls.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re heartless. He’s going to cum in two seconds.”

You grinned, placing your hands above Jungkook’s shoulders and fucking him into the bed, thrusting him into you so hard that Jungkook yelped, sound of skin on skin wetly crashing against firmness, lewd and obscene. Fuck, he felt so good, thick and pulsing against your walls, his breathless whimpers spurring you on as you clenched around him, your pussy pumping his cock.

“Look at you, Jungkook,” you panted, slamming your hips together and making him groan again, clutching fistfuls of pillows. Your breasts bounced with your movements, hypnotizing him. His hair was spread out in black messy curls, framing his chiseled jaw and blown-out pupils, the mole underneath his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold on to your untamed wildness. “Needed my pussy so bad, hm? Needed noona to take care of you, didn’t you? Bet you begged Yoongi to let you have me again.”

Jungkook’s eyes went wide, jerking his head towards Yoongi as his hyung grinned devilishly.

“And you would be right,” Yoongi purred.

“Hyung!”

You snickered, fucking him harder, faster, giving him a full body roll onto his dick and Jungkook’s head slammed back into the pillows, neck muscles tightening as he belted your name from the top of his lungs, chest shaking as he came. His cock jolted against your walls, pumping the condom full as you massaged his entire length, exhaling his name as you came as well, eyes closing in satisfaction. Your hands slid down to Jungkook’s shoulders, kneading them in your hands.

Even if your heart was Yoongi’s, your body could be equally turned on by both men. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Jungkook, because of course you did.

But Yoongi and you…

You looked over to Yoongi and he nodded, sliding up to the side of the bed with his computer chair.

The way his lyrics felt like your thoughts, the way that he took complex emotions and turned them into simple, elegant phrases, the way he looked at you, knowing you in a way that was more than just love, but also understanding the good and bad, the two sides of the same coin. He was open and honest with you, never letting you feel bad about your nonconformist beliefs, never judging you even if it was abnormal or unorthodox.

Such as sitting on Jeon Jungkook’s dick right now, running your nails over his sculpted chest and making him moan under you as Yoongi smiled. Well, he too was pleased Jungkook was having a good time. He did love the maknae quite a lot. Even sent him a long text telling him (and Kim Taehyung, of course). You, like everyone else, had that on tape, including Kim Seokjin feeding an unsuspecting Yoongi an empty calm shell afterward.

You smiled at the memory.

You leaned over to Yoongi, kissing him softly as he met you in the middle.

“Want to blow you while he’s fucking me,” you murmured into Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi shook his head, pouting slightly. “Hah, don’t tempt me.”

You squeezed Jungkook’s cock inside you and Jungkook groaned, hardening at the stimulation. “At least a handjob?” you pleaded. “Please, Yoongi.”

Jungkook patted your thigh and you felt him reach down, holding onto the condom. You lifted your hips and he slid out with a gasp, stunned by the sensitivity. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you, before sighing heavily, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. You grinned as Yoongi reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a spare towel, throwing it at Jungkook so he could clean himself up.

“Okay, okay,” he gave in, getting up from the chair so you could lower his underwear. “My physical therapist is gonna kill me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You told your physical therapist you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi frowned. “Of course not. But it was heavily implied not to exert myself outside of physical therapy.”

You slid his boxer briefs down, freeing his incredibly hard cock, definitely ignored all this time. The head was purple red, desperate to be touched.

“A handjob isn’t physical exertion, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, stroking his cock as he stared at your ass.

Yoongi moved away from you to sit on the bed, smushing all the pillows so he had a small mountain of softness to lay against. “Yes, well,” Yoongi grumbled, spreading his legs for you as you dipped down, ass up in the air for Jungkook. “I can’t control myself around her. Don’t want to take it too far.”

Jungkook sucked on his teeth at the image of your hand wrapping around Yoongi’s cock, stroking it slowly. You moaned softly, leaning against Yoongi’s thigh, feeling the familiar hardness and contours of his veins imprinted into your palm, Yoongi’s shallow breathing as you pumped him.

“Excuse me, you are supposed to be cock-deep in her pussy,” Yoongi barked at Jungkook, who started, fumbling with the box of condoms.

“Uh… are you sure?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, get your dick in there.”

You turned your head to look at Jungkook inquisitively, shaking your ass at him.

“Please, Jungkook?”

Apparently, that was all the enticing Jungkook needed because he immediately ripped open a condom and shoved it onto his cock before scooting up to you and gripping your hips. Yoongi grinned, patting your head as Jungkook slid into you once again, eyelids fluttering at the sensation.

“See,” Yoongi purred. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty that you’re not getting the good dicking you deserve.”

You smeared his pre-cum down the head and Yoongi moaned, tipping his head back into the headboard.

“Missed your cock, Yoongi,” you breathed, watching his delicate features twist in pleasure as you increased your pace, feeling Jungkook roll his hips into you, going slow and steady so as not to blow his load within seconds.

Yoongi smirked. “I know, but health comes first. Maybe next time I’ll let you get spit-roasted by Jungkook and I.”

You felt Jungkook’s fingertips dig into your hips. “R-really?” he blurted, far too quickly to censor himself.

Yoongi turned his attention from you, cocking an eyebrow.

“I-I mean…” Jungkook sputtered.

“Well,” Yoongi said calmly, smiling. “Guess I promised now, so I suppose it’s going to happen at some point.”

You chuckled. “Which hole do you want?” you teased.

Yoongi growled, closing his eyes, imagining it. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He gasped with Jungkook as you increased in speed on his cock and rammed your hips back into Jungkook’s. “We’d have to do both for me to be satisfied.”

You raised your eyebrows. 

Well. 

“What Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets.”

Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook moaned at the thought, grasping your hips tighter and fucking your harder, his cock hitting you deeply, making your gasp. Yoongi’s eyes cracked open and looked at you, devious and dangerous.

“Jungkook.” Yoongi called for the maknae’s attention. “Spank her.”

Your eyes widened and you cried out as Jungkook’s large palm smacked your ass, making your pussy clench around his cock. Your free hand came up and slammed against the headboard, not wanting to unnecessarily grip Yoongi’s arm even if it was his right. Yoongi eyes darkened with lust, smirk growing as you gripped his cock harder, jacking him off roughly.

“I love your fingers wrapped around my cock,” Yoongi breathed against your lips. “More, Jungkook.”

You felt the stinging pain radiate up your ass, the sound echoing off the walls as Jungkook growled, thrusting violently with repeated, wet squelches, your cum dripping down his thighs and yours, getting wetter and wetter as he slapped your ass and made your pussy throb around his cock. He was stronger than Yoongi and his slaps were a little inexperienced, but it felt good all the same, good because you could feel Yoongi getting hotter and harder in your hands, thighs tensing as he neared his release, Jungkook rambling behind you.

“F-fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook snarled. “Such a fucking good pussy, so fucking tight and wet. Can’t help but want you, can’t help but think about fucking you, fuck.”

Yoongi shifted his gaze to your ass bouncing as Jungkook fucked and spanked it, turning it a red. Your nails curled into the headboard, barely taking tight gasps as your orgasm neared, threatening you.

“Close,” he breathed. “Fuck, you look so good being abused by Jungkook’s cock.”

You chewed on your lip, determined to get Yoongi off before yourself, clenching your jaw. You felt Yoongi hiss, pressing his head against the headboard, eyes shifting to lock with yours. Your name slid out of his lips in a euphoric exhale, his control slipping as he groaned, cock jerking into your hand. You gasped as he came.

Holy fuck.

Yoongi hadn’t cum in so long that the force of his orgasm splattered up your chest, painting your tits with thick white strings and staining you with his scent. You pussy clenched and suddenly you felt your own orgasm crash down, no longer inhibited due to your surprise, sending shocks of pleasure through your body as your pussy spasmed around Jungkook’s cock, choking the oversensitive head. Jungkook came with a sharp yelp of your name, burying his nails and fingertips into your hips, bruising you for sure, but all three of you were trapped in the chain reaction of orgasm that it became a mix of different pornographic sounds of release booming against the apartment walls.

Once again, soundproofing was really saving your asses here because all three of you seemed to forget that none of this should be happening.

The ecstasy slowly, slowly trickled away. Jungkook’s hands loosened their grip on you, his body sliding down and leaning against your back. He was panting hard, his sweat sticking to your skin, heart thudding in time with yours. Yoongi finally opened his dark eyes, staring down at your cum-covered breasts with a dry chuckle.

“Whoops.”

You pressed your forehead against the cool headboard, your tits hitting his upper arm. Yoongi clicked his tongue as his own cum dripped on his shirt.

“Serves you right,” you muttered.

“My dick is passing out,” Jungkook whined.

Yoongi shrugged. “Isn’t today your off day anyway?”

Jungkook squeezed you tightly, hope rising in his voice. “Y-yeah.”

Yoongi hummed. “The others might find out.”

Jungkook sucked in his cheek. “Who cares?” he chirped defiantly.

You felt Yoongi let out a raspy laugh.

“Ah, they’re going to be so jealous of you, Jungkookie.”

-

part iii “You’re not allowed to say such things.”

--

masterpost

[writefightandflightclub]

Right behind you:(Bodyguard!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x M!Celebrity!reader)

This is my offering for this week’s #writerwednesday from @autumnleaves1991-blog, which this week is joint with @flightlessangelwings’ Jey’s Pride celebration! 🥳

The verbal prompt was: glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

The visual prompt is the photo below.

This gave me the idea for a very quickly written one shot with bodyguard!Santi and male celebrity reader! I hope you like it!

Warnings: food mentions; mentions of panic attack / hyperventilating. Mentions of sensory overload. One mention of Santi “sucking off” reader. Language. TYPOS, undoubtedly.

Rating: mature for mentions of oral sex but no explicit / actual smut.

Gender stuff: he/him pronouns / masc! terms of endearment used for reader. Implied that reader is a penis owner - no other physical descriptions besides reader wearing a suit and some make-up.

Genre: angst then mainly fluff and happiness! Hurt / comfort, I guess.

ALSO: BONUS CAMEO FROM ANOTHER OSCAR CHARACTER. Did you spot him?

You perch on the couch in your suite, taking steadying breaths and trying desperately to ward off hyperventilation as your bodyguard grips your trembling hand firmly in his. The air is quaking in and out of your lungs and you can no longer help the tears which spike in your eyes and spill over on to your cheeks.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he crouches before you, and you can’t help the surge of guilt that this is so far outside of his job description. He’s meant to protect you, not comfort you. His work centres on your physical well-being, but you can’t count the times he’s bolstered your emotional well-being too. Then again, this is the only time he’s done so quite as blatantly in front of the rest of your staff, perhaps.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cry, sweetie,” your make-up artist - who will not be getting rehired you decide suddenly- flaps around you, attempting to fuss over you with a tissue. Her panic about her work being ruined at the worst possible moment is plain as day, and it only makes your chest constrict further.

“This isn’t helping” is the only thought blaring loudly in your mind, but you cannot for the life of you push the words out right now. You shut your eyes in an attempt to block it all out. To subdue the sensory overload.

You are thankful that your bodyguard intuits that sentiment on your behalf when you can’t, and you hear his voice is coming from a different angle now, his head whipped sharply sideward and up towards the offending MUA.

“For real? Ffff....” you close your eyes and hear Santi bite down on a curse. You’d laugh if you weren’t so preoccupied, trying desperately to focus on his voice amidst the chaotic, intersecting hubbub of the room. “Ma’am, could you please back the shit up?” He bites. Apparently he can’t stifle the cursing entirely.

Your limp hand travels along with his as he waves his arm around emphatically. “In fact. Out. Everyone out. Now. Please.”

His request slices through the nervous air in the room, his words deep and commanding and delivered with an authority that you doubt anyone would dare question. This man must be obeyed, and in the back of your mind you congratulate yourself for your decision to take a chance on hiring this moody ex-soldier with creaky knees. When he needed to he could certainly clear a room. And on top of that, he offers you a whole lot more besides.

Indeed, here he is, going above and beyond, kneeling on said creaky knees for you. Protecting you, and comforting you too.

Your eyes are still closed as the room gradually quietens, until it is so still you could hear a pin drop. Until you can hear the steady rise and fall of Santi’s breath. Until you can hear the delicate wet noise of his lips parting so his tongue can skim his lips. You can hear him swallow.

As you hear the sound of the final remaining person shuffle out, and the door gently click closed behind them, you are finally able to peel open your eyes. You are able finally able to release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth, an indent having formed where you have bitten down so hard you have threatened to draw blood.

Santi is as still as death as he waits, and as soon as he hears that final click, he is moving. Only then, does he allow his (thin) veneer of professionalism to collapse. He allows the flats of his palms to snake up your thighs, rubbing reassuring shapes into you, and you feel the familiar heat and press of of him through the luxe fabric of your suit trousers.

“Look at me, cariño,” he soothes, in a deep, fond tone, entirely different to those bitten off commands reserved for the rest of your entourage. “It’s just you and me now. Look at me, baby.”

You do. You look into his big brown eyes and you and he could be the only two people in the world, never mind the room. You sniff, and you fumble away a stray tear before settling your palms on top of his.

You slow your breathing and Santi flashes you a small, proud smile. “That’s it, honey. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

Then, he flinches, his head leaning to the side as though he could physically retreat from whatever angry voice is no doubt blaring into his ear. Then, he makes a point of taking the earpiece out altogether, letting it hang over the collar of his white shirt.

He tugs in a huge exhale too, letting go of the tension he held in his body through his concern for you, although his eyes slit flit around your face in residual concern.

“They’ll be mad you did that,” you warn, with a nod to his earpiece.

“Whatever. It’s not my job to get you to the red carpet on time. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Your job? Hmm? That all I am to you?”

He flashes you a lopsided smile as you tease him. “I’m a lucky man. My job happens to be a thing I love doing outside of work too.” You lift your palm to his face, the familiar texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. “Now, honey. No rush. But do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You look away from him then as you realise he won’t let you distract him enough to avoid the true issue at hand, but his hands are still languidly smoothing your thighs, and you know he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to before you’re ready. He might dole out some tough love, eventually, but not until he is sure that you can take it. He lets you fumble until you find the words. “It’s... even the thought of it, Santi. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. All those cameras. All those eyes on me, I...”

Santi shushes you, as he hears the resurgent panic creep into your voice, even as your fingertips idly trace over his handsome features, a self-soothing unconscious thing, as he continues to kneel before you.

But while you may be panicked, he’s smiling. Looking up at you earnestly. “You deserve all those eyes on you, hermoso.” You don’t mind at all that when his voice comes out now it’s both fond and a just a little dirty as his own, very attentive eyes sweep over you.

“I don’t know...” You nibble on your lip again.

“Baby. You deserve this night. You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re so talented. And holy shit. You look so fucking hot in this suit I can barely function.” You let out a small, tentative laugh, which Santi seems pleased by, his own eyes creasing at the corners in return. “Besides,” he continues, tone more earnest now, his thick brows raised as he hammers his point home. “I’ll be right there. Just a few steps behind you, okay, mi Principe?”

You take one more deep breath, expelling it slowly and steadily through the “o” of your mouth, and Santi can’t resist your pursed lips a moment longer. Yet, for all his comments about how hot you are, his kiss is not as devouring as you might expect. It is a soft, tender thing, barely skimming your lips, and yet even so it appears to inspire a reverent heat in him, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek as his eyes remain closed a moment longer. As he expels a gust of disbelieving air at how you make him feel from this alone.

“Or,” he proposes, his voice breathy. “We could sack this whole thing off? We could order chilli cheese fries to the room and I can suck you off until you can’t think straight?”

You kiss him again, this time giving him just a hint of tongue, even as you laugh musically into his open, increasingly eager mouth.

“Appealing as that sounds, my love, I probably shouldn’t miss this...” you nod your head towards the door “...lil thing.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Santi concedes with a fond, lopsided smile, his eyes flashing with adoration, until he reluctantly schools himself back to something resembling professionalism. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, and for his... eagerness to subside, before asking “You ready?”.

You nod. “Ready as I’m gonna get.”

“There he is. That’s my man.” Santi gives your thighs one more squeeze before he stands, and you swear you hear his poor knees creak; and then, he is replacing his ear piece, his face becoming all business as he presses two fingers to his ear. “Kolpakov? We’re ready to move out. Everyone in position?”

He awaits the response before turning back to you, practically gasping as he sees you stood there in all your glory for the first time. His eyes sweep up and down the length of you. He shakes his head incredulously, switching his mic off for a moment more. “Fuck me. You look like a fucking dream.”

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond in a loving, flirtatious tone, dancing your fingertips across his chest as you sweep past him towards the doorway and he turns with you as if in your thrall.

As you prepare, taking another deep breath and gripping the handle, Santi reaches for your arm, delaying you for just another moment. “Santi,” you laugh. “We can do the chilli cheese fries later, I promise.”

But that’s not quite what he has in mind. He looks at you intensely, and he cups your face in his broad palm. “Don’t forget. You deserve those eyes on you. But if you get overwhelmed, know that my eyes are on you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The sentiment and sincerity with which he says this makes your mouth fall open in shock. Makes your chest constrict with happiness rather than nerves - but you aren’t afforded the opportunity to respond. In the next moments, the door is flung open, and your entourage is flooding you, barking directions and whisking you down the staircase and out on to the red carpet.

You are pulled away from Santi, and you don’t get to be near him again, besides a quick, surreptitious whisper into the shell of your ear as he follows you out the door “we need to talk about your ass in these pants because holy shit” - but that is all you can steal.

True to his word though, wherever you go he is right behind you. He is there with a firm arm to form a protective wall should a photographer come too close, or a fan get too handsy over a barrier. He is standing, stern and formidable to your rear as you provide sound bites to the tv stations forming a line up to the venue (and, trying very hard not to ogle your ass in these pants, probably).

He’s right behind you, designed to fade into the background in every sense. For all his charisma, he’s good at it. Not drawing attention. Even his suit is designed to be non-descript.

But... that’s not where he should be, you realise.

And, when you are almost at the end of the carpet, you stop in your tracks. You hesitate, and you turn around, your gaze instantly finding him in the crowd. He looks concerned, alarmed, as though you may have gotten the jitters again and like you might be about to do a runner.

But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

In fact, you are more calm and sure than you have been all evening, looking at his befuddled, deer in headlights expression as all the attention suddenly falls on him. He has some big talk and a tough exterior, but the centre of him is soft, and you love that about him.

And so, a cautious smile blooms on your face as you settle firmly on your plan of action, and you walk determinedly in the “wrong” direction, going against the stream of attendees and making a beeline for your love, as he, for once -your man of action- stands frozen in confusion.

Then, when you arrive at him you stop, placing both your hands flat on the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down.

“What are you-?” he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

“Santi, my love. This is ridiculous. I don’t want you behind me. I want you by my side. Where you should be. So, fuck it. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to this premiere?”

He answers with a smile. With sparkling eyes. With his arms flung around your waist. With the press of his curved lips against yours, and a slip of his supple tongue. “Baby. I’ll always be by your side.” His hands slip a little lower. “Or - you know - sometimes right behind you.” He winks at you. God, you adore this idiot.

So, you wrap your arms around him, guffawing fondly into his neck before kissing him again, more deeply, not caring who’s watching. Your face splits with a beaming smile as you break from the embrace and link your arm into his, proceeding to walk up the carpet again: together this time.

“Fuck me though, honey,” Santi leans over to confide in you as he straightens up his tie, as if suddenly noticing the photographers for the first time now that they are noticing him. “You could have warned me you were going to french me on the red carpet, I would have put on a better suit.”

You laugh warmly as he continues to babble, and you reassure him that he looks perfect.

You know he’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s the nervous one now - you can tell. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you reassure. “Just you and me, remember?”

No-one else in the world.

“Jesus. How do you do this?” he asks, balking at all of the camera flashes going off in his face, his voice choked.

Luckily, Kolpakov - his second in command- figures out what’s happening and takes the cue to intervene, shifting the line back just a little to give the two of you some space. A good job too as you see beads of sweat forming on your love’s brow.

“How do I do this?” you ponder. “Well, I always have you to protect me, right?” You squeeze his arm tenderly. “And I’ll protect you now, my darling.”

This- having him by your side? You have no doubt that this feels right. It is where he has been all along, albeit only in the shadows. In private moments. But tonight, as he encouraged you into the spotlight, you realised how little you cared for hiding. You need him with you.

“Jesus,” Santi chuckles, looking around and trying to take everything in. “The boys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one. I didn’t even tell them we were dating.”

“What the hell, Garcia?!” you chide fondly, mouth open in a shocked “o”, before beginning to chatter and banter away with him as you easily fall into step together. Distracting him from his nerves like he always does for you.

With Santi by your side, you no longer care about all of the other eyes on you. All of the camera flashes. The crowds. Those watching at home.

You’re proud of your achievements. You’re proud of your relationship. And besides, the only eyes on you which you pay any heed to are his. Santiago’s gorgeous brown eyes, which, right now, shine with nothing but pride.

Yours shine right back.

You think he is the one who deserves all eyes on him, tonight.