#man it's been twelve years since i wrote that

[minutia-r]

Happy Ides of March to all who celebrate! Here's my Cinna the poet/Cinna the conspirator sonnet:

But mightier than these, both pen and sword— Though you may make Rome's streets run red with blood And I, with one precisely chosen word, Can float your name untouched above the flood— Is time, but not the blind, remorseless foe Who crushes all beneath his sandaled feet Inevitable as empire, and as slow For in the end, the race goes to the fleet. No pen is quick enough to catch your breath The way it catches quick against my skin; No dagger's keen enough to deal the death That, in the dying moment, dies again: Each one a Rubicon. The die is cast, And, worse than senseless, slips into the past.

(on AO3)

[hannieehaee]

Member walking into svt member x reader having sex

another member walking in on member and their gf

18+ / mdi

content: established relationship, being caught having sex, smut, second hand embarrassment, mentions of a crush in some of these, afab reader, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2156

a/n: idk if these even make sense i wrote them all at completely different times and i have no idea if i even repeated members oops also not proofread </3

masterlist

seungcheol -

knowing about seokmin's crush on you, seungcheol couldn't help but feel genuine annoyance as, out of all people, seokmin happened to walk in on seungcheol eating you out, giving him the perfect view of your unfiltered nude body along with the blissed out look on your face. what made things worse was that it had taken the both of you a good thirty seconds to notice the door had been opened by a gaping lee chan who just seemed unable to close his mouth nor move a single bone in his body.

seungcheol would have to take matters into his own hands and yell at the boy to get the hell out, grumbling at knowing that seokmin's crush would likely just intensify after this. he'd have to take out these frustrations on you, making sure you were as loud as possible in order to at least assert some dominance.

jeonghan -

he's a fucking freak, he'd probably like it. you were facing away from the door, riding him as you threw your head back and had your eyes closed shut. he'd be able to see behind you, spotting minghao as soon as he accidentally walked in on you. he'd be shocked for a total of two seconds before smirking at minghao and inciting you into being louder for him (though without giving you any indication that a third person had appeared).

surprisingly to jeonghan, minghao wouldnt leave. he'd stay frozen in place staring at your form and hearing the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the pretty whines both you and jeonghan were letting out. it would take him a bit to slap himself out of it, suddenly leaving in a rush and shutting the door closed without realizing, thus finally alerting you. eventually jeonghan would let you in on what happened and continue to tease minghao about it for ever and ever.

joshua -

joshua was conflicted. one one hand, he felt mortified at vernon walking in on him ramming his hips against your ass in a desperation you'd only ever really see in a wild animal (specially since you were also in a pretty compromising position), but on the other hand, he felt kinda proud at drawing such an expressive reaction out of his usually stoic friend.

vernon was nearly impossible to scare, and almost even more impossible to embarrass. and the sight of you and joshua fornicating had just caused both at the same time. however, any semblance of pride left joshua as soon as he detected even the smallest trace of lust in vernon's eyes as his eyes remained on your form. what the hell was he even still doing here? after cursing him out with some very diverse language, vernon finally left with a hurried apology, leaving joshua with the task of putting you in the mood again after such a weird interaction.

jun -

even after all these years, jun had not yet grown used to the lack of privacy that came along with having twelve men around him at all times. he had learned to manage it, but there were instances in which he simply needed his very well deserved privacy. such as in his intimate moments with you. unfortunately, his brothers had grown too used to lack of privacy among each other, meaning that walking in on you was only a matter of time. and it had to be seungcheol of all people.

being the polite boy he is, jun was unable to even yell at the older man when he walked in and remained frozen without even thinking of making an immediate exit. he'd splutter a bit, barely being able to cover you up with a nearby blanket before coming to his senses and realizing it was completely acceptable for him to yell at his leader for freezing up at such an uncomfortable moment for you. upon also snapping out of his trance, seungcheol would apologize and leave, though the damage had been done. jun would now have to go to sleep completely blue balled because of his friend.

soonyoung -

sure, he was close with jihoon, but that didn't mean he wanted him to be privy to every intimate detail of his life, specially not what he got up to with you behind closed doors. even though he knew jihoon wasn't a perv by any means, and that him walking in on you had been nothing but an accident, he would still react exasperated in the heat of the moment.

he would immediately notice the new source of light entering the room as he railed you into the mattress. fortunately for him, you had been pinned down under him and your front was facing the door, meaning that all jihoon saw before soonyoung spluttered around for the covers had been him humping at you from above. an embarrassing image to share with a friend, but at least he kept the goods (you) to himself.

wonwoo -

a smirk. small but still fully present. wonwoo could've sworn he saw a smirk of satisfaction on jeonghan's face as he walked in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of you on all fours and wonwoo's hips going crazy against your ass. of course, of all people, jeonghan would find such moment amusing. he knew his friend to be a bit unpredictable in how he reacted to certain things, but wonwoo had not expected him to quite literally stop and stare.

wonwoo, like any reasonable man, had frozen in shock at the intrusion. it had taken him a few moments to actually pull out of you and cover you as much as his own bare body would allow. he also had to take it upon himself to yell at jeonghan to get the hell out. this instance would cause both you and wonwoo to feel awkward around jeonghan for a few days. the older man's smirk would not leave him during those few days, only making you and wonwoo even more sheepish around him.

jihoon -

had it been anyone else, maybe he wouldnt have had a problem, but it had to be mingyu. he already felt some type of way about the way in which mingyu would occasionally flirt with you (he knew his friend had a flirty personality, but still!!), so it did not help to know that mingyu now knew what you looked like in the throes of passion, much less the fact that the man in question stood there watching for a good minute.

in this situation, jihoon had to take whatever means necessary to protect your privacy (though it was already too late) throwing you off him without thinking and throwing a pillow on top of you to cover you as much as a measly pillow would allow. after this, like an idiot, he would grab his boxers and chase after mingyu, completely forgetting that he left you completely confused at what had just happened.

seokmin -

it's not that seokmin was a jealous man. nor had he ever felt insecure in your relationship. however ... having his very handsome friends around his very pretty girlfriend would sometimes leave him feeling a bit ... off. like now. specially now. an instance in which he had been making love to you, passionate in the way he thrust into you and licked into your mouth. up until your mouth left his own to look at the sudden intrusion that had just entered the room. wonwoo. a very shirtless and very wide-shouldered wonwoo.

after some moments of the three of you simply staring at one another in shock, seokmin finally took action and covered you up, disliking the way in which wonwoo's eyes had made their way to your nude body, and specially not liking the concept of you and his friend looking at one another (almost completely) in the nude, no matter if it was merely an accident. he would sulk about this for days, needing reassurance from both you and wonwoo about the unfortunate incident.

mingyu -

why did seungkwan have to be so damn nosy? why couldnt he just take mingyu's half-assed excuse about 'being sick' and let him go back to his hotel room to rest instead of joining the members in impromptu karaoke? maybe if he had just left the situation alone, he wouldn't have had to be chased out of the room by a very naked mingyu for screaming as soon as he saw mingyu folding you in half on his bed.

okay, backtracking a little ... maybe mingyu was the first one to scream. but he wasnt expecting any interruptions during his alone time with you, okay?? he screamed in shock, then seungkwan screamed in shock, then he's pretty sure he heard soonyoung screaming from the front door of the hotel room, which had been enough for mingyu to act on a whim and throw a blanket on top of you, grabbing some boxers and chasing seungkwan (and seemingly soonyoung) back into their rooms all while sporting a boner.

minghao -

why. why did he forget to lock the door again. that was his immediate thought at soonyoung excitedly running past his door without considering that minghao mightve been busy on the other side of it. and he was. as he was currently pistoning into your cunt from behind, having you arching your back for him in a way that gave him a delicious view of your ass. a view that was meant for him only.

hoshi became embarrassed and sheepish almost immediately, realizing that, yet again, his enthusiasm got the best of him and put him in an awkward situation. he'd sheepishly make his way out as he avoided eye contact. minghao would simply sigh and face palm internally, giving you no time to react as he began fucking you again. hoshi would have some trouble making eye contact with either you or minghao for the following week.

seungkwan -

not him. anyone but him. chan? did chan, of all people, have to become privy to the inner workings of your figure? something which was meant to be reserved for seungkwan's eyes only? he'd notice chan's presence immediately, screaming at him to get the hell out as he scrambled to cover you up. in the meantime chan would be frozen in place, with his eyes very clearly zoned in on your tits, causing kwan to grow even more frustrated.

in what felt like an eternity (but was actually under two minutes), chan would finally exit the room and leave a very exasperated seungkwan behind. he'd be too bothered to finish what you guys were doing, now needing you to calm him down from the annoyance he felt at chan, knowing that the boy whom he bantered with every day could now add the image of your nude body to his spank bank.

vernon -

he would be far too lost in the pleasure he felt as you rode him, eyes closed and face buried in your tits as he bit licked absentmindedly. you'd be the one to notice jun's sudden appearance, widening your eyes but making no other indication of shock. jun would react similarly, though his eyes would swim from your face to your tits (or what he could see from them through vernon's head in the way) to the way you ground against his friend.

for some unknown reason to both you and jun, the two of you would maintain eye contact as you started rutting against your boyfriend harder and faster, making him groan and moan against you as he reached his peak. jun would leave when he felt like he couldnt handle any more, now thinking of you in a completely different way. you'd confess what had happened to vernon afterwards (after he inquired as to what made you fuck him so animalistically ..), which would surprise him and weirdly turn him on.

chan -

chan had never expected that joshua's usually confident demeanor would finally crumble at the mere sight of your blissed out appearance as chan knelt between your legs. your entire body was facing the door from which joshua had come in, your breasts were bare, your eyes were crossed, your mouth was agape, your body was contorting itself at the pleasure, your cunt was obstructed by chan's mouth as he desperately sucked and licked at you, moans going in tune with your own. the sight was out of any man's dream.

but it was interrupted very quickly. chan immediately felt a new source of light, making him get up without a second thought and cover you up as much as he could in the heat of the moment (even if it meant exposing himself in the process – you were the priority). chan had never seen joshua so sheepish as he tried to smoothly make his way out of the room. joshua had never seen chan so serious as he cursed at him to get out (nor had he ever seen chan's girlfriend look so enticing ...).

[zvdvdlvr]

— Revenge Sex

🏵️ — synopsis. James cheated. Remus is pissed off with some of James’s recent decisions. To get back at James (and because he likes you), Remus has sex with you.

🏵️ — warnings. Badly written smut. Weird plot. Pet names (pretty girl, darling). James is an absolute douche in this.

🏵️ — author’s note. I AM DOGSHIT AT WRITING SMUT. Wrote this on a whim. God bless. Hope this is okay.

   It had been twelve days since you last saw James with his lips locked to some Huffleslut.

   Twelve days of incessant badgering, pleading, apologies, and words words words. All in-person, all irritating.

   Of course, today was no different. It had started with James ambushed you by slinging his arm over your shoulder when you stepped out of your house entrance. You shoved him away and kept walking with your friends to the Great Hall.

   “Y/n! Wait up!” James called. You groaned in annoyance and walked faster with determination. He was the one that cheated! Why did he continue to follow you around?

   His hand closed on your shoulder and he bent over to catch his breath. “Y/n, please just listen to what I have to say-“

   You whipped around, anger evident in your eyes. “No, James Fleamont Potter. You listen to me. You cheated, not me. Clearly I wasn’t a good girlfriend and wanted to throw away a relationship for someone who just wanted to sleep with the popular guy. I don’t care. And before you start that ‘Oh! But y/n, I love you!’” You upped the pitch of your voice and brought your hands up. “That’s obviously a lie. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have even considered looking at that no-good, yellow-wearing, dirty rotten Hufflepuff slut! So just leave me the fuck alone!” You took a step back, pleasantly surprised when James didn’t move. “Thank you.”

   You felt bad for not feeling guilty, but… you didn’t cheat. He did.

— 🏵️

   “Hi. Don’t get up. Please.”

   You looked up. In front of you stood the infamous Remus Lupin. Confusion painted your face: what on Earth could he possibly want? “I… okay? What do you want?”

   Remus sighed and scratched his head. His face screwed up in pain from reach up for his head. You knew why. After two and a half years of dating someone, you get to know their friends well. Honestly, Remus was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had. You both got along well and he wasn’t two faced. “This is gonna sound really weird, but… I want to get back at James.”

   You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth and nodded. Pulling it back with a ‘click’, you tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this, Remus? I want nothing to do with him.”

   “That’s the thing,” Remus went on. “He’s been a real prick lately to everyone and has been lashing out. Saying things, doing things. I’m tired of it, Sirius is tired of it- Merlin, Peter barely talks to us anymore since James… y’know…”

   “So… you want me to…?”

   “Sleep with me.”

   Your mouth dropped open. Your face went slack and you stared at the man in front of you. There wasn’t anything that would make you not want to sleep with him. He was actually extremely good looking. Girls complained abut the scars, but you thought they suited him, made him stand out, and give him that ‘don’t mess with me’ energy. “Uh.” Blubbering like an idiot in front of James’s hot friend wasn’t a very comforting thought.

   “You can say no. I understand why you wouldn’t,” Remus shrugged. “I wanted to really lay it on him and stuff but if you don’t want-“

   “Fuck yes,” your muttered. “Sure. Anything. I don’t care.”

   Swallowing, Remus examined you closely. “Really? I don’t want you to feel pressure or anything.”

   “Remus, I want to. Now that you mention it, I kinda want to get some revenge on Potter,” you trailed off. “What better revenge then with his best looking mate?”

   Remus scoffed. “‘Best looking’ is far fetched, but I’ll take it. When do you want to…?”

   “Does now work?”

   A small laugh escaped Remus’s laugh at your coy expression. Your head was tilted dangerously and the corner of your lip was raised just so. Remus would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of you in un-platonic ways while you were dating James, but wouldn’t dare saying anything. Now that James went and fucked up, what better way to get James back and indulge himself in you then now? “My dorm or yours?”

   You accepted Remus’s outstretched hand and stepped closer to him. Hand pressing into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Might not make it to a dorm,” you mused, letting your hand trail down. “Mine. Girls like to gossip. Guarantee that Potter’ll hear the news before you even finish.”

   Remus’s jaw twitched at your touch, feeling his muscles flutter under your hand. “Lead the way,” he rasped, hand wrapping around yours.

—🏵️

   Remus barely had time to close the door before you pulled his face down to yours, capturing his lips with yours. You scrambled to unbutton his trousers as he fumbled to undo your bra clasp. When both items were gone and your shirts were shed, Remus picked you up and let your hands grab his face as he made his way to the delightfully large bed. Perks of being a prefect, apparently.

   You yelped when Remus dropped you on the bed. He turned his attention to your pants, pulling them off and tossing them away. He smiled at the wet patch on your cotton underwear. “Who turned you on that much, y/n?”

   “You, you fucker,” you replied snarkily.

   Remus’s brows quirked. “I am a fucker, aren’t I? ‘M gonna be fuckin’ a girl this pretty. Not something I’m embarrassed about,” he said. You would have replied if he hadn’t dropped to his knees and pulled you towards the edge of the bed like a feather. Remus rubbed a thumb from the top of your clothed cunt to the end of the stain of arousal in your underwear. You twitched. “Like that, pretty girl?”

   “I was promised a fuck, Remus Lupin,” you complained, failing to hide the breathlessly and need in your voice. You can’t remember the last time James did more than buty his dick in you for more than three minutes.

   Remus pressed featherlight kisses to the cloth covering your soaked cunt. “Don’t get snippy. You’ll get what you were promised,” he grumbled.

   You ground your molars together to avoid sqealing when Remus pried away your underwear and drove his tongue into your pussy. With nothing but the bed to grasp, you threaded your hands into Remus’s hair. He groaned at the feeling and sent leg twitching vibrations through you. “Fuck Remus,” you spat.

   The dickhead just hummed. He moved his hands so you were pressed down by his left arm. Remus’s right pointer finger came to tease the entrance of your pussy, his tongue tracing your clit. As anticipated, you jerked at the stimulation. Remus watched you body shudder as he slipped his finger inside you, taking care to memorize how you looked from this angle. His finger curled and you jerked, a ragged moan drawn from your lips.

   Remus fingered you good, you thought through a clouded mind. His fingers where long enough to find where you needed him without much time, and he seemed more than ready to give you what you needed. 

   “So good, Remus,” you moaned out, back arching into his mouth. “Fuck! Right there Rem, please,” you pleaded mindlessly, eyes screwed shut. Remus slipped a second finger into you, chuckling lowly at your breathless gasp.

   It wasn’t long before you came on Remus’s face. Your cunt fluttered around Remus’s fingers and your hands gripped his hair hard. You came with a loud moan that sounded better than Remus imagined. Your voice trailed off and your breath hitched as Remus let you ride out your orgasm, drinking everything you gave him.

   When you laid slack on the bed, Remus pulled his fingers out of you with a lewd squelch. He licked them while you watched his lust filled eyes take in your naked form. “You taste amazing,” Remus said, pulling his cum soaked boxers off of his throbbing boner. “Can’t believe anyone would ever think of leaving you, pretty girl.”

   Remus crawled on top of you, turning your head to press his lips to yours in an oddly intimate kiss. He tastes like you. “You ready for my dick, pretty? Or are you too tired?”

   You scoffed at Remus’s last question. “Don’t insult me like that, Lupin,” you muttered. You wrapped a leg around his back and looked between the two of you. “Fuck me already.”

   Remus adjusted his hips, hesitant to bury his aching cock into you- raw. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

   “I have potions,” you answered, bucking your hips, teasing the head of Remus’s cock. “Don’t make me beg.”

   “I’d actually love to see you beg, pretty girl,” Remus mused, sinking down into your needy pussy. He dropped his forhead into your shoulder as you let out a strangled moan at the penetration. “You’re so tight, y/n,” Remus rasped. “Squeezin’ me like I was made for you.”

   Your hands came to grip his shoulder, biting down your mewls. “Please Rem,” you begged, sucking bruises into his skin. “Please.”

   Remus started moving his hips. He knew he wouldn’t last long but the way your chest shuddered and how tight you were squeezing him, you probably wouldn’t last long either. “So tight, darling,” he grunted, snapping his hips roughly into you.

   Your mouth fell open as you wrapped your legs around his waist, doing anything to to be as close to him as possible. “I need it, Remmy, please,” you sobbed, bringing him down to swallow your screams with feverishly hot kisses.

   Of course, Remus complied. The lewd sound of your cunt swallowing Remus’s cock mixed with the sounds of your mewls and muffled moans was a beautiful mixture of sounds Remus tried to commit to memory. You gripped him like a vice, digging your nails into his skin with each thrust. “That’s a good girl,” Remus grunted as his pelvis met yours. You shook under him, eyes searching his. “Takin’ everything I’m giving you… so good for me,” Remus babbled.

   You nodded, pressing your nose into Remus’s skin- anything to be consumed by him. “Please, Remus, I’m gonna cum. I need to cum, I need-“

   “I know, pretty girl. I know. Cum around my cock, yeah? Be a good girl for me and cum,” he growled, burying himself deep inside you. You came with a loud moan, burying your sobbing face into Remus’s shoulder. His hot seed flooded your pussy, filling you with him. You whimpered and tightened your legs around him.

   “Holy Merlin,” you whispered, thighs twitching as cum ran down your thighs.

   “Remus is fine,” the lycanthrope replied wittily.

   Your chuckled and let your head fall back on the bed as you caught your breath. “Shut up and take care of me,” you chuckled. “Please.”

   Remus’s eyes softened. “Since you asked so nicely.”

bonus: James’s Reaction

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Five

Summary: You start a conversation with Jungkook about where you stand but are interrupted by an uninvited visitor Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 4.7K~ Warnings: Suggestive and explicit language (an argument). Nothing too crazy honestly. Horribly edited too because it's been three weeks and I wanted to get it out! a/n: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out but I was away from home for a week and then wrote a couple of one shots and blah blah blah lol but anyways I hope you enjoyyyy Requested by: @kkusadmirer 💜

After our eventful afternoon Jungkook and I ended up laying in his bed and watching movies since like he said, he wanted me to be "well rested" before we have the talk. The talk that could change everything between us... 

There are multiple outcomes to this scenario and I'm not sure if I'm ready for any of them. 

On one hand he could say this was all a mistake and he was just acting on his urges. I know now for damn sure though that he's attracted to me but I don't know what his motives and feeling are towards me. If he even has any besides surface level physical attraction. 

On the other hand he could want to pursue a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Being fuck buddies or whatever with an older man does sound exciting when I think about doing it with him. It's just that don't know if I'd want something like that even if it was with him. 

I told Jared before that I wanted to save myself for marriage and I feel like that's something I still want to stick to. I've definitely crossed so many lines with Jungkook in the last not even twenty four hours, more like twelve hours or something like that but regardless lines have been crossed and I'm still not sure how I feel about any of it. 

I want to say that I don't regret it and it's not just because it felt fucking phenomenal and out of this world but because I feel safe with him.

It might just be because over the past couple of months that I've been living with him he's become someone I care about and honestly trust with my life so I didn't really feel a need to say no to him. I wanted it to happen, I know I did I just didn't really think it would ever happen. I thought that it would stay in my hormonal fantasies forever and I was okay with that. 

The way he's been treating me has shown me that he cares about me. Although I was trying to convince myself that it was somewhat of a paternal instinct in him and that he was just being protective over me, I knew that it was something beyond that. 

I tried to somewhat address it in a weird sort of way with the whole asking why he didn't have anyone over conversation and he knew what I was trying to ask and addressed it but his answer made me even more confused. 

"I wouldn't want to ruin what we have going on here"  like what does that even mean? He doesn't want to ruin the dynamic we have in the house in terms of we're comfortable with each other and feel no need to let anyone inside our little safe space. 

Or did he mean that he didn't want to ruin what we have going on here because he wanted to see where things went with us on a more romantic level?

He hasn't explicitly told me that he would want to pursue a relationship with me but circling back to before he's given me clear signs that he's attracted to me and isn't one to hide it. 

He knows to a certain extent that I find him attractive too because I asked him to take my virginity. (I'm never gonna be able to live that one down) Anyone could tell that he was clearly struggling to hold himself back and the fact that he kissed me just shows that he wanted to. That he wanted me.

Then there's another possibility that he might want a sugar baby sort of relationship and I don't even want to think about something like that. 

Don't get me wrong! I respect the hustle, but that's just not for me. 

If I'm gonna be doing something like what we are doing right now then I want it to be something that I want to do without any ulterior motive. I don't want to put a monetary value on the time I spend with him but not gonna lie, living it large and not having to worry about money or working sounds very tempting.

I don't think he's that kind of man though...or at least I hope he's not. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks playfully, having noticed that I haven't really been paying attention to the movie we've been watching. 

"Just thinking" I answer, cuddling in closer to him as I've refused to let go of him today and he hasn't made moves to do any different. 

"Bout what?" he prods further, placing a kiss on the top of my head and taking in the fresh scent of his shampoo in my hair.

"Things" I continue, liking the game we've started to play. 

"What sort of things?" he chuckles, telling me that he's enjoying it too. 

"All kinds of things" I say nuzzling closer into him and he wraps his arm tighter around me to keep me there.

"Wanna share a few?" he asks, clearly not letting this go since he wants to at least make sure I'm okay. 

"Thinking about how you might want to make me your sugar baby" I mumble into his chest and he laughs wholeheartedly making me even more embarrassed. 

"Is that something you'd want?" he asks and I shake my head. 

"You don't wanna be at home and sit pretty, waiting for me to come back and shower you with gifts and jewelry and give you the world?" he teases while pinching my sides making me pull away from him, trying to escape. 

"N-no! Now s-stop" I choke out through laughter and gasps of breath. "What would you want" he asks after having tackled me down onto the mattress making sure to do a thorough job of tickling me until I could barely breathe. 

I take a second to think, my eyes going back and forth between his while his stay still, focused and almost begging for an answer. 

"I thought we weren't going to have this conversation until I was well rested" I say, breathless, still not knowing up from down when it comes to us. If there even is an 'us'. 

"You feel well rested?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I nod my head quickly, giving me a crooked smile in response. "Then it's perfect timing right?" he continues and I nod again leaving him getting off of me and leaning his back against the headboard, waiting to hear what I have to say. 

I take a minute or so to gather my thoughts and the whole time he's watching me curiously, almost able to see the wheels turning in my head. 

"What happened between us kind of caught me by surprise" I start, looking down at my lap and playing with my fingers nervously. "I don't regret it, it was just, well I'm just kind of confused about how you feel about me, and I'm really confused about how I feel about you" I admit and I can see his expression go a bit wary but I jump at the chance to explain myself. 

"It's just that I think both of us know at this point that we're extremely attracted to each other" I start out and the corner of his lips upturns for a second but nods in confirmation, waiting for me to continue. 

"With us getting physical and all so quickly I can't help but think that maybe we should take a step back. I would like to know your thoughts and intentions and feelings about all of this. I might be overthinking it but I really think it's best to be up front and honest with each other" I say and take in a shaky breath, scared I might've said the wrong thing.

"You're so sexy when you act so mature like that" he taunts and I groan, wanting to keep this serious. "I'm just playing Bunny. Well I'm not because you really are sexy but I don't want you to feel all nervous and insecure like you are right now. We're being open and honest right?" he questions and I nod my head, eager for him to continue. 

"Meaning it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you that I have feelings for you right?" he says and my eye bug out in response, not knowing what to do now. "Wasn't expecting that huh?" he chuckles and I shake my head making him laugh even more. 

"Cat got your tongue Darling?" he teases and scoff at that. "No I was just being polite and letting you keep talking since you let me do the same" I say, making excuses and trying to keep my voice level. 

"Sure Bunny" he smirks not believing a word I said but continuing nevertheless.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now and I haven't told you or acted on it because I wanted to respect the fact that you were in a relationship. I never liked Jared though for what it's worth" he says without hesitation and it makes me cringe at the thought that I was about to marry that snake. 

"Is it harsh to say I'm glad he's out of the picture?" he says boldly making me laugh. "Not just because it benefitted me but because he didn't deserve to marry a beautiful, intelligent, kind hearted woman like you. I would've said something but I'm not your father so I knew it wasn't my place" he finishes and making me smile, thankful that he was so considerate. 

Now that I think about it, even back then I respected and trusted his judgement so it wouldn't have bothered me even if he did say something.

"It's not harsh to say because I'm happy about it too. To be honest though I don't really know what I ever saw in him. I think because he was the first guy that more or less respected my boundaries that I thought I had to hold onto him. I don't know" I say and he nods his head.

This is something I haven't experienced before. Someone sitting and taking the time to actually talk things out without any outside distractions and focusing on each other and hearing each other out. 

Maybe it's just an age thing and the fact that Jungkook does fit the standard of dating older and more mature men is better. We're not dating though, but I guess we'll hopefully figure out where we stand once this conversation comes to a close.

"I'm really confused and I kind of don't know how to feel but I'm not closed off to figuring things out" I say, glancing up at him and back down at my lap, nervous from seeing how fascinated he is with me right now. 

I hold my breath and wait for him to say something but when nothing ever comes I chance looking up at him again and I'm surprised to see how he's still watching me.

"Like I said, I've had feelings for you for a while and if you're open to seeing where things go then I would really like to take you out on a date. Like on a proper date. I know since we've been living together and we've been spending a lot of time together but I-" he start off strong but begins to ramble and is regretfully cut off by the sound of the front door opening. 

"Dad! Dad where are you?" Jina calls out and neither of us dares to move or make a sound. "Dad" Jina drags out, regretfully confirming that I am in fact not dreaming. "Be down in a second" he says then presses a finger to his lips. 

"Just stay in here and I'll take care of it" he whispers and I nod my head, watching him as he panics internally before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him. 

What the hell are we gonna do? My car is out there! Or wait, did I put it in the garage yesterday? I can't remember but I really hope it's not out there otherwise she'll already know I'm here. 

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook says. I can hear his muffled voice through the walls and I know I probably shouldn't listen but curiosity gets the best of me making me rush to the door and quietly crack it open, needing to hear how this conversation goes. 

"Nice to see you too dad" she says, and I hate the fact that I'm only able to hear them but I'll settle for this. 

"You should've contacted me before you came over Jina. You know I don't like people showing up unannounced" he says sternly.

"You're usually totally fine with me coming over" she says sounding thoroughly confused and I can hear Jungkook clear his throat before she starts again. 

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks after no doubt clocking the dishes that were left over from lunch. Two plates, two cups and two sets of silverware. A dead giveaway that someone is here especially since it hasn't been cleaned up yet. 

"You are actually" he says and I trip, surprised that he would straight up admit it but he has no reason to hide, and neither do I.

Having pushed the door open thanks to my clumsiness (somehow able to stay upright and keep my dignity this time) I'm faced with the dilemma of if I should just go back inside and pretend that never happened when it clearly did or come out and face her. 

I'm given the luxury of having that choice since she hasn't seen me yet but I decide it's better to do this as soon as possible. We've hid the fact that I've been living here for two months so what's adding on the fact that I've been messing around with her father while doing so. 

(Although this is a newly added feature but she doesn't need to know that)

I take a deep breath before stepping out from behind the door, watching Jina's face go from surprised to confused to disgusted to angry before turning back towards her father. 

"You're fucking my best friend?" she accuses, not completely wrong but semantics. 

"Best friend's don't fuck around and get pregnant by their friend's fiancees" I remind her, walking down the stairs in conveniently only Jungkook's shirt making what's going on, or what's starting to go on between us even more clear. 

"Oh grow up! It's not like there's anything we can do to change that now can we? Plus looks like you're doing just fine without him" she throws at me and from that moment I'm not pulling any punches. She wants to play dirty? Fine, let's play dirty.

"Jina stop it" Jungkook growls, going on the defensive, not being able to gauge what kind of mindset she's in or even her reasoning for coming here but wanting her out all the same.  

"Grow up?" I chuckle dryly, "I guess you're right, I guess maybe I have started growing up since it seems I've matured enough to be with someone like your father. Which, last time I checked, wasn't someone you have any business in questioning on things like his sex life and who he does and does not partake in it with" I say, placing a hand on his bicep possessively and I feel the tension he had once held in his body start to melt away. 

Interesting to know that I have this effect on him...

"Come on, we both know that you're probably just a piece of ass to him" she scoffs before turning to address him. "Didn't know you started picking up strays. I wondered where she had ran off to" she says, continuing to disrespect the both of us without a care in the world.

"Don't call her that!" Jungkook says, jaw clenched as a way to keep himself in check. 

All I see is red though and the next words I hurl out are ones that I couldn't stop myself from saying even if I tried. The ringing in my ears fanning the flames of my agitation making it impossible to hold back.

"How's life being pregnant with my fucking ex boyfriend's baby? He's probably taking real good care of you huh?" I taunt, cocking a brow at her and from the way the color rushes to her cheeks and the words die in her throat are enough to tell me everything I need to know. 

He hasn't done shit for her.

She balls her hands into fists by her side and lunges at me but Jungkook jumps in between us, grabs her by the shoulders and turns her around, forcing her out the front door. 

"You're gonna throw me out and choose that slut over your own daughter?" she yells struggling to get out of his grasp the whole way. 

"Last time I checked honey the only slut around these parts is you" I throw back, following right behind them and the way her jaw drops is just priceless. 

"That's enough! Jina go!" Jungkook says through gritted teeth letting go of her once she's passed the thresh hold, leaving her standing there, looking between the two of us before scoffing and storming off down the driveway. 

"I knew you were obsessed with her I just never thought you would bother acting on it" Jina spits out at her father and when she sees that he doesn't flinch she hurls more baseless lies and insults at the both of us. 

"You know she's just using you to get a place to stay and get over her ex right? What happened to staying a virgin until you got married y/n? Huh? Guess getting cheated on really fucked you up" she spits while unlocking her car. 

"And I guess fucking around with an ego-driven two-timing narcissist gets you pregnant" I throw back and she purses her lips before sinking down in her car, accepting defeat this time and leaving like her father told her to. 

"Say hi to Jared for me" I call out, waving at her as she grips the steering wheel until her knuckles have gone white, putting it in drive and backing out of the driveway.

I walk over to the couch and let out a big sigh once I've sat down, throwing my head in my hands as a way to ground myself. 

Breathing through this dizzy feeling from that whole confrontation that I had not been prepared for is a lot tougher than I thought it would be, my whole body still buzzing.

I hear Jungkook close the door behind him after having watched her speed down the street, still worried for her safety but also wanting to make sure she was actually gone. What happened just now was enough of a confrontation to last me a lifetime, or at least it feels that way.  

"Hey" he whispers, kneeling in front of me and rubbing my back, "Are you okay?" he continues and I nod my head, feeling the tears prickling in my eyes, calling my bluff.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting on the couch next to me and pulling me onto his lap, rubbing my back again and holding me while I let out some of those tears I had held back.

"I don't even know why I crying" I say, sniffling and sitting back up to dry my eyes.

"No one likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about. Well, nobody sane likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about" he says, trying to lighten the mood and it does the trick making me scoff a bit, smiling at his efforts to make me feel better.

He cups my face and wipes a few tears that had fallen, looking at me with his brows pinched together as if his heart is breaking with mine.

"But you still care about her though, don't you?" he asks and I nod my head. "It's hard not to" I admit, getting off his lap and sitting next to him which makes him angle his body to face mine, taking hold of one of my hands, encouraging me to speak my mind. 

"She's been my best friend for the past six years. That's not something that can magically be turned off for me. I know what she did to me was devastating and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for it. I'm still trying to heal from it all so I don't know, I couldn't help but defend myself, and you. I'm sorry you had to see that" I say, mumbling the last part and feeling so much regret for saying those ugly things about his daughter right in front of him. 

"Everyone has a right to defend themselves and when you're being attacked like that, you can't help but say hurtful things. She had no right and she knew that and wanted to hurt the both of us anyway" he says and I take a deep breath before turning my attention back to him because she said just as many hurtful things to him as she did to me.

"Are you okay?" I question, tightening my hold on his hand to hopefully encourage him to be vulnerable with me as well. 

He nods his head with a sad smile and waits a beat before saying anything and I hold my breath until he does. 

"No one wants their daughter to end up in the kind of situation she put herself in or see the people that they care about hurting but what she said didn't hurt me" he says and I nod my head, paying attention to his hand that I have placed in my lap, tracing the swirls of ink with my eyes as they travel further up his arm. 

"What did hurt me though was the way she was talking about you. You know that's not how I feel about you at all right?" he says, tilting my face up towards him making purposeful eye contact with me, needing to know that I believe him. 

"I know" I nod, giving him a sad smile accompanied by my still glossy eyes making him even more sad seeing how upset all of this has made me. 

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" he asks, cupping my face and keeping my eyes on him when I try to turn them away. "No, I'll be okay" I shake my head and he studies my features before nodding and accepting my words at face value. 

"Okay, do you wanna go back up to my room? You can sleep in there with me if you'd like" he says, brushing a tear dampened strand of hair out of my face. 

I give him a mischievous smile, telling him I know what he's up to but he pulls away and puts his hands up in a way to defend his motives. 

"Just sleep, I promise. Scouts honor" he says, crossing his heart and I laugh at his playfully defensive nature. "Sure" I say, taking hold of his hand while he stands up and leads me back to his bedroom. 

~~~~

After having talked a little bit more about what had happened the topic of conversation circles back to what we had been in the middle of before she showed up. 

"So earlier it seemed like you wanted to ask me a question" I say, taking a sip from my soda that had come with the take out we had ordered hours ago, toying with the straw and keeping his attention. 

"Yeah? And do you know what your answer might be to said question?" he teases, wetting his lips and keeping his eyes trained on mine. 

"You have to ask the questions first Daddy" I say placing my drink down on his nightstand and when I turn to face him again he's tackling me down on the bed peppering kisses all over me. 

"Stoooppp" I giggle and he laughs along with me before leaning back to hover over me. "Will you go out with me?" he asks and I can tell that this whole moment has him feeling like a teenager again.

"I thought you'd never ask" I say, running my fingers through his hair making him lean into my touch. 

"You can't take it back though. Once we do this I won't ever let you go" he husks out, placing a kiss on my palm and I shutter at the feeling. "Then don't" I breathe out making a flame of desire flash through his eyes. 

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble you know that?" he warns, placing a kiss on my nose before getting off me and turning off the tv. "Hey! I was watching that!" I pout "No you weren't" he chuckles. "Plus it's time to go to bed. We've got a big day ahead of us" he says, getting under the covers and motioning for me to do the same. 

"Big day?" I question, not remembering we had something on the agenda this weekend. "I may or may not have planned out our date this morning while you were still in bed Sleeping Beauty" he says, pulling me onto his chest but I sit up pulling away from him with my brows scrunched together. 

"How were you so sure I would say yes?" I scoff, shocked by his bold assumption. "From the way I've been making you moan my name I figured you wouldn't mind going on one date with me in return" he says and my jaw drops, throwing the covers off myself and making a break for it but he yanks me back towards him making me flop down on the bed. 

"You can't just say things like that" I whine, hands over my eyes as a way to block him out of my vision and hide the very apparent blush that I'm sure is starting to bloom. 

"Am I wrong?" he taunts, placing kisses on my neck and collarbone, dangerously close to making me moan his name again. 

"You're no fair" I say, pushing him off and giving him my back making him chuckle at my shy behavior. He lays down and pulls me back into him. My back now against his chest and his hand placed on my hip where I'm again reminded that I'm only wearing his shirt and my under ware. 

"Keep your hands to yourself Mr." I tease while prying his hand off me. "Come on darling, you know I'm a man of my word. Just sleep, nothing else" he says, this time sliding his hand further up to hold onto my bare waist. 

"Fine" I grumble out and he laughs and nuzzles his nose into my neck, taking another deep breath, flooding his senses with my scent. 

"Goodnight Bunny" he mumbles against my skin. "Goodnight Daddy I tease and am rewarded with a slap on my ass. 

"Did, did you just spank me?" I say trying to wiggle out of his hold but he's already got his arm wrapped around my waist again. "I told you that pretty little mouth of yours was gonna get you into trouble didn't I?" he says, switching to rubbing his hand along the tender flesh he just struck, caressing it in a way to ease the pain. 

I pout and settle back into the bed, not dignifying his words with a response. It's only when I accidentally move my hips backwards do I freeze from gaining a soft moan from him, no doubt caught off guard from the contact of my ass up against him. 

"Sorry I didn't mean to I-" "I know Bunny, just go to sleep" he says placing a kiss on my neck and holding my hips in place, putting a little more space between us. 

As I slow my breathing to a steady one I start to lull myself to sleep but I flinch at the sound of his cute snores in my ear. 'Something I'll have to tease him about in the morning' I giggle to myself and take his hand off my hip, choosing instead to hold it against my chest having him surrounding me. Soon I'm slipping into that dreamland he had drifted off to moments before, safe and warm being in his arms.  

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[trevengersprincess]

ℱ𝓇ℯ𝓈𝒽 𝒪𝓊𝓉

tw: f!reader, 12 year timeskip!Kazutora, creampie, piv, unprotected, pet names: (baby, kitten), established relationship with reader, breeding kink (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: kazu is touch starved from being locked up for so long 😩 been on the kazutora train right now and i blame my friend.

wc: ~1.2K

Ten years. Ten years since you’ve seen the love of your life, Kazutora Hanemiya. But even in those twelve years, you never left his side, went to every approved visitation, picked up every phone call, wrote back to every letter he sent, everything. Kazutora is your ride or die and nothing would ever change that. When the day came for his release, you were nervous. Sure, you’ve seen him and knew of his changes like his voice and slight appearance. But nonetheless, you were nervous of seeing him.

Arriving to pick him up, you stood outside your car, nervously picking at your fingernails. The sounds of the gates opening caused you to jump and look up to see him. It was him. Nothing to block you two, nothing to be afraid to say worried a guard might hear, nothing. When he saw you, he felt his world stop for a moment. For an odd reason, he thought you wouldn’t be the one to pick him up. His hair had grown out long, just past his shoulders.

“Y/N…” Kazutora said softly, the name feeling so foreign yet so familiar. The tears in both your eyes filled before you ran over to him and practically jumped into his arms.

“Tora…” You whispered softly as you held him tightly. How you missed the feeling of holding Kazutora close to you. Tears fell down both your cheeks as you held each other close, thinking that if you let each other go, the other would disappear.

That was two years ago. He’s been out for two years and his hair has grown long, passing his shoulders. Keeping the majority of his natural hair color, he had the two front pieces dyed blonde. In those two years, you both focused on getting better for yourselves. You worked hard to get yourselves a nice place while he worked on bettering himself mentally and getting a stable job with his record. It wad hard work but you both made it. Finally earning enough to leave the apartment you lived in to a small home for the both of you. A home where new beginnings can start and Kazutora knew just how to break in your new home.

You both had just finished making the final touches in your home and sat on the bed, exhausted. Kazutora looked at you and smiled softly as he took in the surroundings.

“I can’t believe it actually happened. We really did get our dream home and even made it just how we pictured it. And it’s all thanks to you, kitten.” Kazutora said as he leaned over and kissed your cheeks. You giggled softly before he kissed your lips. He pulled you into his lap and you knew where this was going, not that you’d stop it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, if it was even possible. He pulled away and kissed down your neck, nipping and sucking on your skin, leaving his marks. He wanted everyone to know you were his and his alone. Your whimpers filled the room and you tugged at his shirt, wanting it off of him. He pulled away and pulled his shirt off as you pulled your own off. He flipped you over, hovering over you before kissing down your body.

“Can't believe you are mine, all mine and no one else. You're so good to me kitten. I gotta put a ring on you now." Kazutora said as he pulls down your shorts and panties at the same time. He didn't give you a chance to speak before he dove into you like a starved man. Lapping at your juices, he moaned into your core. Your thighs squished his head, keeping him in place before you tried to loosen your grip. He growled into you and locked his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place and wanting nothing more than to keep your beautiful thighs around his head.

“K-Kazutora!" You moaned as your hands ran through his hair and making a makeshift ponytail for him. He pulled away, taking a deep breath before spitting onto your cunt and pushing his fingers inside you, curling them just to hit that sweet spot of yours.

"What is it baby? Too much for you? Can't handle me and it's only just my fingers and tongue?” Kazutora cooed at you as his fingers moved faster inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moved back in between your legs and his tongue teased your sensitive huddle of nerves. You gasped as your hand in his hair only making him take your clit into his mouth and sucking hard. That’s all it took before you were creaming on his digits. Your hips bucking against his hand and mouth as he dragged out your high, making it much more pleasurable.

“That’s it kitten. Such a good kitten for me. Look at the pretty mess you made.” Kazutora says as he pulls away and you twitch slightly from the shocks going through your body. He strips himself completely of his clothes and hovers over you, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“Wait! Daddy I just- nghhh~!” You pleaded but your pleas fell deaf to his ears. He pushed his shaft inside you, moaning loudly at the feeling of your warm walls. He allowed you some time to adjust to his length, after all, he isn’t that much of a monster to you. After a few minutes, he was thrusting into you like a mad man.

“F-Fuck baby…You feel better than I imagined…” He groans as he slowly started to lose himself. Even for how dominant he can get, he always gets so lost on the feeling of your tight cunny. He always gets so pussy whipped for you.

“D-Daddy please!” You moaned as he hammered into you. His hands found their way to the back of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. You knew what this meant and you didn’t mind. He had lost complete control and was pounding into you like a rabbit in heat. His mind was foggy and the only thoughts he had were of you.

“Kitten I can’t hold back…Gotta make you complete mine…” Kazutora whined as he had tears filling his eyes from the pleasure. He came so quickly but that didn’t stop him. He kept pushing himself, wanting nothing more than to fill you to the brim. You needed to have his children.

“Wait Tora! N-Not in-”

“Shut up and take it like a good girl!” Kazutora snarled as he angled his hips to hit the sweet spot inside you. You gasped and became puddy in his hands. Before you knew it, you creamed on his cock, a white ring at the base of it. The sound of slick filling the room as you both went for hours and hours until Kazutora finally came to his senses. Both of you were breathing heavily as he stayed flush against you, cockwarming him nicely. He pulled you into his chest, pulling the blanket over your naked bodies as you feel asleep on top of him. Kazutora kissed the top of your head and smiled softly.

“Goodnight kitten. I love you, more than anything. Just wait till you wake up~”

soooo how’d i do…? please be honest everyone 😅

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies

[sidekick-hero]

It's finally here, my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai - I was so delighted when I found out you were my giftee 💜💜💜 Your prompt 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone' really tested me and took me out of my writing comfort zone. I hope you like it and that I did your prompt justice! Special shout out to the best beta in the whole world, @acasualcrossfade 💜🙏

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1 (5.6k) under the cut

"Rob! Robbie!" Steve yells as he walks into their two-bedroom apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. "Robin Juniper Buckley, where are you?"

He hears the telltale clatter of dishes and sure enough, he finds his roommate and best friend in their tiny kitchen washing the dishes. It's his turn to do them, but his schedule has been hell this week. He's been spending so much time at the firehouse cooking for a crew of five to twelve perpetually hungry firemen and women that the thought of cleaning up their kitchen at home has made him want to cry.

"I'm here doing the dishes, because if I didn't, we could have proven Darwin's theories right here in our kitchen." Despite the scolding words, she doesn't look particularly angry at him, and he figures he'll be forgiven in no time. She knows he's been working himself into the ground lately, pulling double shifts whenever his boss will let him. Living in Chicago is expensive enough, but Steve also has to think about Max's education. There's no way his little sister can't live up to her full potential just because their parents are assholes who stopped caring about their children the second they turned out not to be the perfect son and daughter Richard and Emily Harrington wanted them to be.

He walks up to her and hugs her sideways, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment as he mumbles, "'m sorry, Robs. I'll make it up to you."

She sighs, and he knows he's already forgiven. "I know you will. It's okay. Not like I forgot to do something once or twice."

He leans back to look at her for full effect, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, like when you started dating Chrissy and were so busy having sex that you barely left your room or her apartment?"

Robin swats at him with the towel slung over her shoulder, but there's a smile on her face at the memory.

"Okay, now that we've established that you're jealous that I have an incredibly sexy and wonderful girlfriend," Robin says, ignoring his indignant Oi!, "do you want to tell me why you stormed in here yelling out my full name, which I've clearly forbidden you to use except in emergencies?"

Her question brings back the excitement that propelled him from the grocery store to her apartment in record time, and reminds him of the news he's been dying to share with her in person, rather than by phone or text message. He needs to see her reaction firsthand.

Taking hold of Robin's shoulders, he locks eyes with her azure gaze, unable to contain the grin that splits his face in two. "She’s gone!"

Robin blinks in confusion, prompting him to clarify. "Grandma Harrington, she's kicked the bucket, bit the dust, you name it."

A puzzled expression lingers on Robin's face momentarily before realization dawns. "No way! She... really?"

Unable to contain his excitement, Steve gives her a gentle shake. "Yes, really. Grandma Harrington finally called it quits."

They look at each other, their grins widening until they both look like madmen. Steve is aware that all of this is probably a highly inappropriate way to react to the death of a human being, but Eleanor Harrington had been the worst human being Steve or Robin had ever had the displeasure of meeting in their lives.

She had visited her son and daughter-in-law infrequently over the years, never giving them much warning when she was coming over and occupying one of their guest rooms for the unforeseeable future. More than once, Steve had come home to find her sitting at the kitchen table or on the sofa, staring at him with her judgmental gaze, disappointed in him before he even crossed the threshold. Any friend who had the misfortune to accompany him was ordered to sit with her and be interrogated, always found wanting as her grandson's companion. Everyone was beneath a Harrington, even Tommy, even though his father was a lawyer. ‘Too many freckles and that awful grin’ was one reason, ‘I don't like the way he looks at you, Steven, too greedy’ was another.

Robin, who had become a permanent fixture in Steve’s life after becoming his project partner in one of their shared classes his junior year, hadn’t fared any better. To this day, Steve has no idea how Grandma Harrington found out that Robin was queer, because at that point Robin hadn't even been out to her parents, only Steve. But when she did, she had spit at Robin. Steve had lost it then, too angry, too hurt to think rationally. He had thrown caution to the wind and come out to her, too, even though the thought of liking boys was still new to him, something he was still trying on to see how it would fit.

He doesn't even know what he expected to get out of it. Certainly not acceptance or even approval, no matter how much a part of him still craved that from his family. The only thing he got was her calling them both horrible names and saying such cruel things that Steve had to hold Robin and wipe away her tears afterwards.

That episode alone was reason enough for Steve to hate the old woman. Never mind that she had raised his father to be a bigoted, heartless man who had never learned what it meant to truly love anyone, not even his own son or daughter.

When their faces begin to ache from smiling, Robin shrugs casually, as though dismissing the significance of the moment. But Steve knows better. He knows the weight of hurt and resentment they both carry because of that woman.

"Rest in peace, I suppose," Robin remarks with an air of detachment, and Steve can only offer a noncommittal hum in response, realizing that any words he might speak would only add to the inappropriate nature of their conversation.

"Alright, so what does this mean for you, Steve?" Robin asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Is this going to change how you deal with your family?" She pauses briefly before adding, "And what about your inheritance?"

Steve offers a slight shrug, his expression turning pensive. "I'm not entirely sure yet, Robs," he begins, his tone serious despite the lingering excitement from their earlier celebration. "I mean, I guess it means I don't have to deal with her anymore, which is definitely a relief. But as for the rest of the family, I don't know. They've never been particularly warm or welcoming to me, you know that. I mean, you’ve been there when they wanted to send me to a psychiatrist to help me get over being queer. I doubt they've changed much since then."

Robin nods in understanding, recalling the numerous tales Steve had shared about his family's cold demeanor and their refusal to accept him for who he is. She reaches out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I mean, you know she was loaded. So yeah, there is an inheritance, but -" Steve continues, his gaze distant as he contemplates the implications. "There's a condition in Grandma Harrington's will. I can only inherit if I marry someone.”

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Marry? Seriously? That seems archaic, unfair, and downright manipulative."

Steve lets out a wry chuckle. "Tell me about it. Grandma always did enjoy her control games. It's probably her way of trying to mold me into the perfect, straight grandson."

"You've got to be kidding me! Seriously? You... what, have to marry some woman so you can be the perfectly acceptable heterosexual son and grandson your family always wanted? Fuck off!" Despite the heavy topic, Steve can't help but smile at Robin's outrage on his behalf. He could always count on her. After all, she was there to pick up the pieces when his parents told him in no uncertain terms to either learn to be straight or leave.

He left and lived with the Buckleys until Robin graduated and they moved to Chicago together. It was the best decision he could have made, even if it still hurts some days.

For a moment, they both fall silent, each lost in their thoughts. Then Robin squeezes his hand again. "We'll figure it out, Steve. We always do. And hey, maybe this is the perfect opportunity to really stick it to them."

"What do you mean?"

A devilish grin spreads across Robin's face. "Tell me, does her will say that you have to marry someone, or that you have to marry a woman to get your inheritance?"

Oh.

Oh.

Steve looks at Robin, his eyes wide with sudden understanding. “You’re a genius, Buckley,” he says, grinning. “I think it’s time for us to pay my attorney a visit.”

Turns out Robin is right. It seems that Grandma Harrington wrote her will at a time when gay marriage was still illegal in most states, and never thought to change it after the courts made it legal in Indiana and Illinois in 2014.

Steve's lawyer, who he honestly couldn't afford if it wasn't for the fact that she was an old family friend, agreed to help him pro bono just to give his bigoted parents the middle finger, as her sister was a lesbian. She said that the requirements of the will would be met if Steve married a woman as well as a man. As long as it was a legally recognized marriage, he would get close to half a million dollars. Enough to pay for Max's education, the rest of Robin's student loans, and maybe even a small house here in Chicago for him and Max once she was done with college and wanted to live with him until she was ready to be on her own.

The only problem was that Steve didn't have anyone to marry, woman or man.

His last serious relationship had been in high school, for crying out loud. Not for lack of trying. Steve loved love, but love apparently didn't love Steve back. Robin insists that's because he's sabotaging himself. She thinks deep down he's afraid of getting hurt again, so he only falls for people who a) he can't have or b) are a terrible match outside the bedroom.

She might have a point, he thinks in his more introspective moments. He has no shortage of options, and he always finds someone to hook up with, but he rarely makes it past the second date.

"Maybe you could hire someone?" Robin suggests, sipping her Dirty Shirley. After seeing John for some legal advice, they had gone straight to their favorite bar to hold a strategic summit over drinks.

So far, they have only made it to the drinking part.

Sighing deeply, Steve considers the idea for a second before shaking his head vehemently. "No way. I'm not paying some stranger to marry me. It's probably illegal anyway, and it sounds a lot like prostitution."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say when Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "And what, Steven, is wrong with prostitution?"

"Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. A job like any other job,” he hastily assures her.

His answer seems to satisfy her and he knows she's right. It's just that sometimes the things he's been raised to believe, thanks to his extremely conservative parents, are hard to leave behind. They have a tendency to bubble back to the surface when he least expects it.

"That's what I thought. But I get it, it feels wrong to pay someone to marry you."

"Exactly. And I mean, it's about trust. Who guarantees that they won't double-cross me somehow and run off with all the money? I can't risk that."

He looks over at his best friend, his platonic soul mate, whom he trusts with his life and, more importantly, his little sister's life. Right now, he thinks, there’s only one person he could imagine being married to.

"How about we get married?"

He regrets it as soon as he asks.

Not because he thinks Robin wouldn’t do it, but because of the two of them, she is the one in a loving, stable relationship that could very well end in marriage one day. It's unfair of him to put her in a situation where she feels like she has to choose between Steve and Chrissy.

Worst of all, he knows she still wants to say yes to him. He can see it in the soft, sad way she looks at him. They both know they'll spend the rest of their lives together anyway. The simple truth of both their lives is that they would do anything for each other, walk through fire, face any horror the world could throw at them, just to see each other happy. And it's not like they couldn't get a divorce later, so Robin could still marry Chrissy, sure. But it would take something from her.

"Steve, I -"

"No, wait, don't answer that. It was a stupid idea, I shouldn't -"

"It's not stupid, it's just -"

As they talk over each other, their voices clash until they both instinctively reach over, silencing each other with a hand over their mouths at the same time. Their wide-eyed surprise quickly gives way to laughter as they realize the absurdity of the situation.

Steve is the first to recover from their fit of laughter, quickly sobering up to reassure Robin in a mild voice. "Seriously, Robs, I shouldn't have asked you to do this because it puts you in a shitty position. I know how much you love Chrissy and it wouldn't be fair to either of you. Especially when the two of you could finally get legally married. I don't want to take that away from you and make you agree to a fake heterosexual marriage like it was the 80's."

She looks at him with her big blue eyes, impossibly soft, and takes his hand in hers.

"Steve," she begins, her voice as gentle as her gaze, "thank you. For getting it, I mean. It wouldn't be all fake, though. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you're right, I'm not in love with you and you're not in love with me. And we both deserve to marry someone we feel that way about. In a perfect world, we would. I mean, I don't even know if Chrissy would ever want to marry me, but," Robin stops here, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "Oh my God, Steve!" Robin cries out in excitement and wonder, her reaction clearly colored by the strong cocktails their favorite bar always provided, before her voice becomes softer again, but no less wondrous. "I really want to marry her. I want to marry Chrissy so badly, Steve, I can't believe I didn't know.”

"And I can't believe you're realizing this after I asked you to marry me. Way to keep a guy's ego in check," Steve jokes with a big grin on his face. It's less news to him than it is to Robin, to be honest. Ever since Robin stumbled into their apartment with a piece of paper in her hand with a number on it, gushing about the gorgeous woman she had just met at the bookstore where she works, Steve knew his best friend was completely smitten with Chrissy Cunningham. That was four years ago, and they are still going strong, obviously madly in love.

She throws her arms around him and says, "I'm sorry," not sounding sorry at all, still giddy with her newfound realization. "I'll make it up to you. I actually might have an idea how we can get you your inheritance and still stick it to Grandma Harrington."

"I sense a but."

"But I can't guarantee it'll work."

"And..."

"And you might not like it at first, but honestly, it's genius, you just have to trust me. And if it really doesn't work out, then we'll get married and you'll pay for my 'I'm-sorry-I-love-you-please-stay-with-me-even-though-I'm-fake-marrying-my-best-friend' vacation with Chrissy. And the divorce."

Maybe it's the three beers he's already had, or maybe it's the fact that Robin would actually marry him just to help him out that makes him agree. He's sure he'll regret it along the way, but maybe he should take a leap of faith. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. No way to find out but to try.

Drunk Steve is clearly an optimist.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but all right. What's your plan?"

Robin grins mischievously, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she leans back, holding Steve at arm's length.

"Steve Harrington, you won't regret this, I promise," she declares, her tone brimming with confidence.

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress a chuckle at Robin's enthusiasm. "I'll hold you to that, Robin. But seriously, when do I get to know the master plan?"

Robin's grin widens, but then she sobers slightly, a hint of seriousness creeping into her expression. "I need to talk to Chrissy first. It's... complicated. But I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, I promise."

Steve nods, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside him. "Okay, fine. Just... don't keep me waiting too long, okay? I've had enough surprises for one night."

Robin reaches out, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I won't, Steve. Trust me, this is going to work out. You'll see."

Despite his lingering doubts, Steve can't help but be swayed by Robin's unwavering confidence. With a nod, he squeezes her hand back, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever Robin's plan entails, he knows his best friend has his back. And maybe, hopefully, they'll come out on top after all.

Drunk Steve should not be allowed to make any decisions, sober Steve decides.

Because he instantly regrets trusting Robin's secretive plan as soon as he steps into their apartment a week later, only to find not just Robin, but also her girlfriend Chrissy and Chrissy's best friend and roommate Eddie lounging in their living room.

All eyes turn towards him as he enters.

Robin's expression is the most transparent. Though the furrow between her brows is subtle, her lip-chewing and rhythmic tapping betray her worry, likely anticipating his reaction to whatever scheme they've concocted.

Chrissy, on the other hand, wears a radiant smile, her bubbly demeanor suggesting she's delighted about something. Yet, Steve can't shake the feeling that her enthusiasm might spell trouble. While he adores Chrissy and cherishes her friendship almost as much as he does Robin’s, he's well aware of her propensity for stirring up mischief.

Their shared history stretches back almost as far as hers and Robin's. It's a tradition for Robin and him to introduce their second dates to each other, one of their many platonic soulmate privileges. Steve often wonders if this practice inadvertently sabotages any chances of a third date, but he's unwilling to compromise on the importance of his friendship with Robin.

In any case, if someone can't accept his slightly unconventional bond with his best friend, they're probably not the right fit for him anyway.

Eddie's expression proves the most enigmatic. He appears utterly deer-in-the-headlights, his wide brown eyes resembling those of a startled doe. His usually pale complexion now seems even more ghostly. Steve notices how Eddie's fingers have been incessantly tousling his hair, rendering his dark curls resembling more of a chaotic bird's nest. Steve recognizes this as one of Eddie's nervous ticks, alongside fidgeting and rambling. His suspicions of Eddie's unease appear justified as Eddie avoids meeting Steve's gaze, opting instead to stare down at his hands, absently toying with his rings.

Something is going on and Steve has a sinking feeling that he won't like it.

"Um, hi?" He offers tentatively, his gaze flitting between Robin, Chrissy, and the nervously fidgeting Eddie. "Am I missing something here? Is this an early birthday surprise? Because if it is, I hate to break it to you, but my birthday's not for another nine months."

Before Robin can respond, Eddie interjects, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Steve! Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Nah, no birthday party, man. We definitely know when your birthday is!"

"We do?" Chrissy chimes in with a playful grin, clearly jesting, as Steve knows she's the one who meticulously keeps track of important dates in their circle.

Eddie, caught off guard by Chrissy's banter, stumbles over his words. "Uh, yeah, of course! February 23rd. Remember that baseball-themed cake from last year? I almost dropped it on the icy ground!"

Steve remembers it too, mostly because he was so chuffed to learn that in order to save his cake, Eddie had taken the fall instead, choosing to land on his admittedly not very well padded backside so that the cake could live. He had been unable to sit properly at their little gathering all evening. Steve had felt sorry for him, but also fond in the face of Eddie's sacrifice for him.

"It's so good to see you, Steve. You look great today, that shirt really makes your eyes pop. Doesn't it, Eddie?" Chrissy gushes, nudging Eddie's side as he just stares at Steve in a way that makes Steve worry that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Um..."

"Okay, what's going on, Robin?" Steve turns to the only person who doesn't act like she's on drugs or caught red-handed at a crime scene. Or both.

Robin, bless her soul, doesn't beat around the bush. "I told you I had a plan. This," and she points to Eddie of all people, "is my plan."

"That's Eddie," Steve states the obvious, but he feels he can't be blamed. Nothing makes sense, so he's glad for every single thing he knows. Then the rest of her statement sinks in.

Blinking at her, his eyes wide, he says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can't be serious!"

There's no way she's saying what he thinks she's saying. Because right now it looks like her plan to help him get his inheritance involves marrying Eddie. Which, no. No, no, no, no. Not Eddie. Maybe she means some other plan that Steve has forgotten. Like Eddie helping him with Dustin's birthday surprise, which sounded much more likely than -

"I told you he didn't want to marry me," Eddie's voice sounds loud in the stunned silence after Steve's reaction. "This was a stupid idea, I don't even know what I was thinking." Then, addressing Steve with his eyes somewhere to Steve's right, "Listen, man, I'm sorry. I totally get it, no hard feelings, okay? I wouldn't want to marry me either."

The wry chuckle doesn't sit well with Steve, nor does the way Eddie still refuses to meet his eyes, or the fact that he's started walking toward their front door. Before he can think about it, his hand wraps around Eddie's arm as he passes Steve on his way out.

"Eddie, wait." Eddie does, looking at Steve's hand wrapped around his forearm. Steve's grip isn't tight, so Eddie could easily break free, but he doesn't. He just looks, quietly waiting. Still not meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I was just surprised, okay? A little warning would have been nice." The last part is mostly for Robin, who at least does look contrite at his words.

"It's fine, Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Now, if you'll excuse me. Places to be, things to do, see you when I see you, you know the drill."

Steve could let him go, maybe should let him go, because Eddie is obviously embarrassed and the whole situation has gone south anyway. But Eddie doesn't sound fine, and Steve feels terrible about his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Something that is usually Robin's specialty.

So instead of letting Eddie walk out of the apartment, Steve steps in front of him to block his way. "Eddie, please wait. I really didn't mean it the way you think I did, you have to believe me. You're a catch, okay? Anybody would be lucky to marry you."

And okay, wow, he didn't mean to say that, but it's the truth.

"You really mean that?" Eddie asks, pulling a strand of hair in front of his mouth. It looks incredibly cute and Steve wants to kill Robin for putting him in this position. She had said that he would not like her plan and that should have been reason enough for him to stop her. Because now he's between a rock and a hard place.

Either he lies and lets Eddie walk away thinking he's not good enough to be married, even if it is a scam to get his grandmother's inheritance. Or he tells the truth and risks getting his heart broken or their friendship ruined.

Because the thing is, Steve means every word. Steve has had a crush on Eddie for years. He's been able to keep those feelings in check because he and Eddie never spend time alone together. It's always group hangouts, or Eddie being there when he and Robin visit Chrissy, or Eddie joining them when they meet at their apartment. It also helps that Eddie keeps his distance from him. Sure, he's nice enough to Steve, but every time Steve tried to get close to the other man, his efforts were rebuked until he got the memo and stopped trying.

Before he can come to a decision, Robin steps in.

“I’m sorry we’re springing this on you, Steve. I could’ve prepared this a little bit better but Chrissy and I were so excited that we found the perfect solution, we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“And this is the perfect solution,” Chrissy jumps in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tell him Robin!”

Infected by Chrissy's enthusiasm, Robin’s voice carries an equally excited note. “You said it yourself, you’d need someone we can trust. And you trust Eddie, don’t you?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “Of course I do.” He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath next to him at his decisive tone. Eddie’s a great guy, him rejecting Steve’s advances doesn’t change that.

Of course he trusts him because Eddie never gave him any reason not to.

But he remembers the stories Chrissy told them to explain why Eddie was a little wary of Steve. Apparently, Eddie didn't have it easy growing up. Chrissy wouldn't go into details because it's Eddie's story to tell, but she did mention that people used to treat Eddie like a criminal, a fuckup, trailer trash. Especially the jocks and rich kids at their high school, so since Steve was kind of both, Eddie had been wary of him.

So much so that Steve had overheard Eddie asking Chrissy once, early in her relationship with Robin, why Robin kept bringing that rich asshole jock over all the time. The words had hurt, but Chrissy's explanation had softened the blow. Still, he'd stopped trying to flirt with Eddie after that because he'd figured that even if Eddie came to accept him, he'd never be interested in going out with someone who reminded him so much of all the bullies in high school who had made his life a living hell.

All of which makes it easy to see how Steve's implicit trust could come as such a surprise to him. Which still kind of stings, because Steve had hoped that the last four years had shown Eddie that Steve was not what Eddie expected him to be just because he grew up rich and popular and into sports.

Before he can get lost in his thoughts about Eddie and what he has to do to earn Eddie's trust the way Eddie has his, Chrissy chimes in again, raising a finger. "So you trust Eddie. That's like the most important thing. Second," she raises another finger, making a playful peace sign in their direction, "Eddie's single. Not like Robin."

Ah, okay, Steve can see why Chrissy is so excited about her and Robin's 'plan'.

"'m sorry, Chrissy, for proposing to your girlfriend," Steve sheepishly apologizes, giving her a crooked smile, which she returns with a sunny one of her own.

"No hard feelings. I get it, believe me. Being with Robin means being stuck with you. Just like Robin is stuck with Eddie. Which is the third reason why this is a great idea," she adds, raising another finger. "We all spend a lot of time together already. Nothing really needs to change."

Aside from the fact that Steve secretly wishes things could change between him and Eddie, he's not so sure that's true. But to argue her point would mean revealing more about his feelings than he's comfortable with, so he lets it slide for now.

Objectively, Steve knows they're right. If he didn't still feel... something for Eddie, he probably wouldn't even hesitate. Because yes, he trusts Eddie not to screw him over, and he's also a close acquaintance who's been teetering on the edge of being a real friend for years. But he's also the reason Steve had to leave last year's Friendsgiving party early because Eddie showed up with some guy who couldn't keep his sleazy hands off of him. It drove Steve crazy to see someone else have what he wanted so badly.

In the end, it is the thought of being able to give Max all the chances she deserves that finally makes him look back at Eddie.

"And you're sure you want to do this? Fake marry me, I mean. Because, Eddie... I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to do this to help me out, but... you don't have to do this, okay? It's not your mess or your fucked up family, it's mine."

Finally, Eddie is looking back at him, meeting his eyes.

"I do. Wanna do this, I mean. I know I don't have to, but -" Here Eddie pauses, apparently searching for the right words. After a few seconds he breathes a sigh and continues. "Look, for once, I love the idea of sticking it to an old homophobic hag, so that's a big incentive. Also, I was actually hoping you could help me out as well. Because there's this amazing record store that's for sale, but the bank refuses to give me a loan unless I have some kind of collateral. So I'm kind of hoping that being married will sway them."

At Steve's surprised look, Eddie hastens to add, "I don't want your money! That's for you and Max. Just the fact that I'm married to someone with money will probably be enough. And we can totally do a prenup or something like that."

Eddie sounds anxious, like he's afraid he's said something wrong, when in fact he's doing Steve a huge favor and asking for something incredibly small in return. Steve thinks he can't be blamed at this point, he just has to touch Eddie. So he does, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Eddie. Really. Of course we can go to your bank and convince them to give you the loan. It's the least I can do to thank you."

It feels good to be holding Eddie like this, even more so when, after a moment's hesitation, Eddie hugs him back. Even though they've known each other for years, Steve can count the times they've done this on one hand. It's never lasted this long either, and Steve can't suppress his disappointment when Robin interrupts the quiet moment by clapping her hands excitedly, causing Eddie to pull away.

"Oh, I'm so glad we worked it out. Go us!"

Chrissy, just as excited, jumps up and down next to Robin. "I'm so happy for you guys! We can totally help you plan the wedding. It's going to be great, I know it."

Steve and Eddie look at each other in growing confusion.

"Chris," Eddie begins, his voice careful. He's clearly more experienced in dealing with an overly excited Chrissy, so Steve lets him take the lead. "You do realize that Steve and I are only getting married on paper, right? I don't think -"

"You can still have a wedding!" Chrissy interrupts, clearly not deterred by anything silly like pragmatism or logic. "It's still a special day, and you deserve to celebrate it with your friends and family."

Before Steve can say anything - what, he has no idea - Robin jumps in on the ‘you should have a real wedding’ party.

"Besides, it has to look real, right? Why wouldn't you have a real wedding if you were getting married? Everyone would wonder. It's just easier to pull out all the stops and make it look as real as possible so no one will question it."

And that... actually made a lot of sense. Goddammit.

Looking at Eddie with an apologetic look on his face, Steve says, "I guess she's right," and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘I wish she wasn't, but what can you do’ kind of way. Eddie, to his credit, just sighs and nods, accepting his fate with as much grace as he can. He glances at Chrissy, who is almost vibrating.

"Fine. Chris, do you want to help us plan a wedding?"

She actually squeals. "Yes, yes, yes!" Then she rushes over and pulls them into a group hug.

Steve, looking over Chrissy's head at Robin, opens his arm. "Come here, Buckley." It's all the invitation Robin needs to join their celebratory hug.

For just this moment, Steve allows himself to feel as if this is all real, him and Eddie announcing their wedding and their two best friends in the whole world sharing in their happiness. It's a nice feeling, and when he leans his head on Robin's shoulder and looks at Eddie, he finds him looking back with the same soft smile on his face as the one Steve thinks must be on his own.

[asoiafsworld]

THE SUN ALSO RISES.

pairing; aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary; you and aemond have been betrothed since you were children and you've been friends since then too. years passed by since the last time you saw him but you kept in contact through letters and eventually, you come to king's landing when you turn of age for your wedding.

warnings; mentions of self doubts and insecurities, nsfw (18+), mentions of masturbating, penetrative sex, praising, breeding kink

author's note; i had two requests for aemond on my old blog that i don't remember exactly but they were both something along the lines of childhood best friends and eventually marrying so here it is! i hope you guys like it!

masterlist

⊱ ───────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───────── ⊰

The sun shone brightly on the horizon, right above your view of the Red Keep from the carriage. The sky was a clear blue, the birds were chirping and it felt like a perfect day for what was about to happen.

You would meet Aemond again after six agonizingly long years.

The last time was in in the capital as well, you were twelve years old and Aemond had just turned fourteen. You were invited to his birthday and you were at court for two weeks, spending your time with him in any way you could. You walked the gardens with him, read books with him about Old Valyria and were always hiding from the adults so it could just be you and him. The prince had a certain reputation, was often mean spirited to anyone who was not his family or you but you always tried to tell him that not every person saw him as a monster and wanted to harm him. His reply always made your heart flutter when you thought about it,

"I do not care if the entire world sees me as a monster as long as you don't."

He would always cuddle up to you when he said something sweet like that because it made him shy to confess his affection to you. It was also a way to make sure that you would confirm his words, to keep you close and to tell him that you indeed never saw him as a monster, which you always did. You knew that he had been through a lot of pain and agony in his childhood, always anxious about never having a dragon of his own and when he finally got one, the biggest of them all, he had to lose his eye for it.

He always told you that it was a fair price, an eye for a dragon but you knew that it still made him feel insecure about his appearance. The last time you came, for his birthday, was the first time you had seen him since the incident with his eye and he was scared that you would reject him, not willing to be his betrothed anymore... He was so wrong.

You loved him all the same and told him that his scar was a sign of his bravery, something you were proud of and never needed to hide from you. Maybe that was when Aemond knew he wanted you and only you, knew that he would never love someone the way he loved you when you gently held his face in your hands and brushed over his cheeks with your thumbs. No one ever touched him as softly and gently as you did and he craved for the years to be over and to finally and proudly call you his wife.

With every letter you wrote to him, every sweet word you used to describe your feelings for him, he only wanted you more. You had always been a sweet, shy and delicate girl since he had known you and he liked that about you because it was so different from who he was. Every day he waited for your letters to arrive and when they did, he would hurry to read it and write you a reply as soon as he could. He could only hope that the love you held for him would hold up after so long and that you would still love him when you saw him again.

Your father was a stern and very traditional man who did not want you to see your betrothed again until you were wed to him because in his opinion, something sinful could happen if you met after both of you were not children anymore. In one of his letters to you, Aemond agreed with him, saying that he could not have controlled himself with how beautiful you must be right now. It only made you blush madly and you wondered if you would have had the will to control yourself if you had been near him in those years... You certainly thought often enough about how your wedding night would be.

In all your daydreaming, you didn't realize that you were already riding through the gates of the Red Keep and that the carriage was slowly coming to a halt. The doors opened and your parents left the carriage first, giving you time to calm your nerves and your heartbeat. You made sure your hair was in place and hoped that you looked fine as you got out of the carriage after your mother.

The entire royal family except for the King was right in front of you and you immediately recognized Aemond, his eyes on you as you met them and you saw the smile that formed on his lips when you smiled back at him. He had grown much taller compared to last time and his features were much more refined now, so handsome and beautiful. He wore an eyepatch, just like he did last time and you still thought that the scar that went from his forehead down to his cheek looked beautiful on him, a sign of his bravery.

Your parents and you greeted the family one by one and you couldn't hide your smile as you bowed to your betrothed, finally so close to you again. The smile that had formed when he had seen you was even brighter now and he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

"My lady, it has been far too long since we last met. Words can not describe how happy I am for you to finally be here, you have grown into the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms in the last six years."

His compliment made you blush and you smiled even brighter, so touched by his sweetness.

"I feel happy to be here as well, my prince. I thank you for your sweet words, it seems that even after so long, seeing you again has changed nothing about my feelings for you."

You didn't know when you would have the opportunity to talk to him in private but it was one of the things he was scared of in his letters, for you to come back and not love him anymore. His self-doubts sadly would never leave him but you knew that as his wife and by his side, you could reassure him much better than through letters.

The look in his eyes was telling of what it meant for you to say that to him and you wanted nothing more than to be alone with him right now, to hold him close and tell him that you loved him more than anything. He sighed deeply and you could tell that he thought the same.

"I feel the same, my lady... I very much feel the same for you."

⊱ ───────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───────── ⊰

A week had passed by since you had arrived and there had been dinners and festivities all leading up to your wedding in three days. Many lords and ladies from all over Westeros had come for the wedding and as the bride, it was your duty to entertain them and make them feel welcomed along with your mother and the Queen or as she wanted to call you, Alicent. She had always been friendly to you since she saw how happy you made Aemond who in her eyes was not really happy in anyone's presence except yours so she was endlessly grateful that you were here and would finally stay for good.

Since you had been busy in the past week, you sadly did not have a chance to be alone with Aemond who was clearly annoyed by it. You obviously sat beside him at dinners and danced with him at the feasts you held but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you alone and you felt quite the same and wished for the wedding to be over to finally be with him.

You had finally been able to retire for the night and were taking your jewelry off when you heard a noise from the back of the room as if someone had opened a door. You got scared and took the paper knife from your dressing table and turned around to face the intruder...

And saw Aemond standing in front of you.

You let out a deep breath and put the knife down, holding a hand to your chest to calm your heartbeat. Your betrothed only laughed at how scared you were and slowly came closer.

"You can not just scare me like that, Aemond. How did you get in? Did you know that there was a secret door here?"

He only smiled mischievously and raised an eyebrow at your question. "Who do you think arranged for you to be in a room with a secret door that only I know about?"

The look on your face was priceless to him but you were not mad, it should have been predictable of him actually. You only smiled at his words and stepped closer to him, right in front of him now. The moonlight and candles were the only source of light and he studied your face as if it was an art work.

"I could not wait three more days... Fuck traditions. I want to be with you in every moment, just with you and not do all this shit with dinners and feasts. If I could, I would marry you at this moment just so you can finally be my wife."

Your heart fluttered at his words and you smile sweetly and bring a hand up this cheek as softly and gently as you used to do with him. He closes his eyes at that and leans his head into your hand and holds your wrist just as gently.

"How I missed this... the way you are so gentle with me makes my heart feel like it will burst out of my chest. Six years, six long years I have waited for your embrace and your sweet love and I do not know how I survived without it."

You smile at that and gently go over his cheek with your thumb, the peace and love he feels from you so evident on his face. He always was so much more relaxed with you, didn't feel like he needed to put up a barrier and act like a tough, strong man. With you, he was simply Aemond, your soon to be husband.

He opened his eyes again and looked down at your lips and before you knew it, he was leaning down and had you locked in a kiss with him. You whined at how good it felt and your sound of pleasure only spurred him on, pressing his lips more against yours and holding your face with his hands. His tongue entered your mouth and you felt lightheaded at the way he was kissing you, so passionate and loving. You only let out more moans and couldn't believe that you sounded like this just from being kissed... you wanted him so badly.

He broke away from the kiss and was breathing heavily as he stared at you and kept your head close to his, bringing his forehead down on yours.

"I can't control myself with you, my love. You are so tempting, so sweet and kind and all I want to do is corrupt you, make you beg for me and have you cry from how good I make you feel. I want to feel every part of you, make you shiver with every part I touch on your body."

You let out a frustrated moan at his words and looked him in the eyes, clearly reflecting the desire he was feeling for you.

"I thought about it too, you know. I might still seem innocent to everyone but if anyone knew what I did when I read your letters where you told me that you desired me, I would be doomed."

Aemond was clearly confused but intrigued at this and went over your bottom lip with his thumb. You stuck your tongue out and put his thumb in your mouth, staring at him innocently. His breath hitched at your action and he breathed deeply through his nose to control himself.

"Tell me."

You took his thumb out of your mouth and leaned in closer, his lips almost touching yours again.

"I touched myself, Aemond. I touched myself when you wrote that you couldn't control yourself around me. I put my fingers in and fucked myself when you wrote that you were curious about what my body looked like now. I rubbed my cunt and came to the thought of you finally fucking me on our wedding night and making me yours. I don't want you to control yourself, Aemond, never. I want you so badly at every hour and every minute, I don't want you to wait anymore. Fuck me, right now, please."

The look in Aemond's eyes was one you could never forget, laced with hunger and want like you were his prey and he was a predator. He wanted nothing but to do everything you said and make you his and your words only spurned him on, so aroused at the thought of you touching yourself just for him. He growled at your pleading words and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of something else other than you, naked on his bed, touching your cunt and begging for him to satisfy him. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes again.

"I will, my love. I will fuck you... on our wedding night. We can not risk anything, even if it is only so little time until we can do whatever we want. But in the next few nights, I want you to do exactly what you did before. Go to bed and touch yourself and think of me doing it instead, of my fingers pushing into your wet cunt and my mouth devouring every part of it. And on our wedding night, I will fuck you until you beg me to stop and even then, I will keep pushing my cum deep into you. Will you do that for me, my little love? Be a good girl for me and do what your prince commands you to."

You squeezed your legs at his words and felt like a mess at the thought of what would finally happen in just a few days. You nodded eagerly, wanting to be obedient for him and placed a small kiss on his lips.

"I will, my prince. I'll be a good girl for you."

Your betrothed only smirks at your words and removes his hands from your face but not before running them down on your breasts through the fabric of your dress.

"I know that you'll be a good girl for me. You wouldn't want to know what I'll do to you if you won't be."

⊱ ───────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───────── ⊰

Your wedding had been a lovely affair, the sept filled with people to watch your union with your now husband take place. You felt so happy to now call Aemond your husband and not just your betrothed and knew that both of you would make each other endlessly happy in the years to come.

It was truly a happy day for you, Aemond only had eyes for you as he did all the nights before and danced with you, made you a hundred compliments on what a beautiful wife he had and you had never seen him as happy as today. You were so lucky to have someone so special and loving in your life who you knew would do anything for you.

It was well into the night when the feast had ended and Aemond and you were on your way to your now joined chambers. You couldn't hide your excitement at what was about to happen but Aemond remained just as composed as ever. You entered your chambers and together and smiled sweetly at him as it was the first time you were alone together again since the night he secretly came to you.

He smiled back at you and held your cheek gently before placing a small kiss on your lips, intending to only kiss you for a few seconds but you had other plans. You held him close to you and kissed him deeply, letting his tongue enter your mouth and you were quickly a moaning mess again because of it. You continued to kiss for a few seconds before he broke the kiss, playful biting your lower lip to keep you from being so eager.

"Were you good for me, my love? Did you do as I say? Did you think of me when you touched yourself?"

You bit your lip desperately and nodded, trying to appear as innocent as you could for him since he seemed to like it when you acted clueless about it.

"I did, my prince. I touched myself and came to the thought of you touching me like that... But I know it doesn't feel as good as when you would do it. Please, I can't wait anymore, I need you."

Aemond seemed to like the way you begged and smirked before grabbing a hold of your waist and throwing you on the bed next to you. You felt your cunt getting wetter at the way he manhandled you, his strength so arousing to you and he was leaning over you immediately, kissing you like his life depended on it.

You moaned and whined into the kiss, feeling as if Aemond was devouring you and showing no mercy to his insistent desire. He was so passionate and demanding in the way he kissed and his hands roamed all over your body, his touches feeling as if they would have burned you even through your dress.

Both of you made quick work of undressing each other as you continued to kiss and soon enough, you were both naked. Aemond let off of your lips as he admired your beautiful beauty, all for him and so pretty and obedient.

His hands came up to your breasts and he wasted no time in kissing and licking all over them, your whiny breaths making him even more eager to make you feel good. He littered his bites and kisses everywhere and you had to press your legs together tightly at the sight of him. His body was a work of art, all muscles and strength that could probably throw you around however he wanted to. He was so focused on you, on making you feel good and you got even more aroused at how sweetly he was touching and treating you.

He kissed his way down from your breasts to your cunt and smirked when he split your legs apart. He looked back up to you and slowly put his hand in your cunt and moved it up and down over your lips before focusing on rubbbing on your sensitive nub. You felt your breath leave your body at the way he touched you and you squirmed in pleasure, willing to let him do anything he wanted.

"So eager and wet for me, my pretty girl, my sweet, adorable baby. I will enjoy ruining you for anyone else, you will only know the feeling of my cock in your cunt."

With that, he slowly entered you with his cock and you moaned out at how long and thick it was. He kept rubbing that sensitive spot and it made you wetter and relaxed for him to further penetrate you. He leaned back down to your face and made you look at him as your face contorted in pleasure.

"So beautiful for me, you look so content with my cock inside you. I know you will never ever enjoy anything quite like me inside of you."

You only whined more at his word and at the way he began to slowly thrust inside you, his cock hitting deep parts in your body that you had never felt before. This is what you wanted for so long when you dreamed of your wedding night, for Aemond to finally give you all of him and to take you apart like you wanted him to.

Aemond thrusted his cock into you at a steady, pleasurable pace and you could see that he was affected by it too, moaning out your name and telling you how good you felt for him. He kissed you again and you had never felt more connected to him than now, your minds and your bodies one in this very moment... and you would have this so many more times for the rest of your life.

It didn't take long for both of you to reach your peak with the way Aemond kept rubbing your cunt and thrusted deeper and harder inside of you. You both came with loud moans and the way you felt his cum shoot inside you made you shiver and clench around him so hard that you felt like you were flying for a moment.

You both catched your breaths as you came down from your highs, Aemond's head right next to you. He looked up from his spot in the pillow and gave you a soft kiss on the side of your head, praising you for how well you did. You smiled at him sweetly and kissed him gently before you let off and smirked at him.

"Don't pull out. You can keep fucking me the whole night, maybe you'll get me pregnant already."

Aemond's tiredness was gone in seconds and he was kissing you eagerly again and you giggled at how silly and eager he was.

You would be happy with him, hopefully forever.

[farfromstrange]

I Want To Fuck A Priest | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

PART 6 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for the priest you met at a farmer's market. Thankfully, he has a thing for you, too.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), porn without much plot, Priest!Matt, blasphemy (!!!), church setting, improper use of a priest's collar, improper use of a confessional booth, improper use of the act of confession, praise, prayer, oral afab!receiving, slight Dom!Matt, Catholic guilt, Fleabag reference, seriously if you are religious or triggered by the improper use of religion DO NOT read this!

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: This is for those who watched Fleabag and then saw all the 'Imagine Matt as a priest' and 'Charlie Cox once played a Spanish priest' posts and thought, "Same!" when Fleabag said, "I want to fuck a priest." I see you, and I feel you. I wrote this after re-watching Fleabag one night, but I added a little poetic twist while editing because before, it was just completely plotless oral sex. While that isn't bad, I needed to add some vibes. You're welcome.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The church bells ring as the clock strikes midnight. The night sky is void of dark clouds. In the darkness above the massive walls encasing the holy ground, the stars shine brighter than the city lights. New York City, the city that never sleeps, makes an exception for the house of God in the dead of the night, it seems.

It’s been…several years since my last confession. 

The graveyard attached to the church looks threatening in its vacancy. It’s void of human souls except for the dead ones buried there. A raven claps its wings in the distance, following the gush of wind that brushes through the trees. 

The bell rings twelve times before it stops, but the echo bounces off the stone walls and shakes the stained-glass windows, which seems to drag on for an eternity. 

The last time I confessed my sins was before my communion. I don’t know if that makes me a bad Catholic, but lately, I’ve been having sinful thoughts, and I need to get them out of the way before I collapse under the weight of them.

You considered for the longest time whether or not you should come here. Faith has been your enemy for the longest time. You don’t believe in the Catholic Church, and yet you have found your way here, in the middle of the night, when everyone should be asleep in their beds. 

This isn’t a normal night, by any means. You often lay awake at night and question your purpose in this life, but lately, you’ve been feeling like you’re drowning. Sins are subjective, and you never paid much mind to the term until now. 

The thoughts you find yourself having late at night when you’re awake and lonely are far from holy. They aren’t ideal. They make you wonder just why you are thinking this way now.

But no man has ever been like him. And the worst part about it is that wanting him alone is an unholy train of thought you should have never submitted to. 

You tried ignoring it, carrying it all by yourself, and trying to heal whatever complex you may have that could have led to this obsession in the first place, but your life has been a mess for long enough that it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, and no matter what you tried to do, you couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

He is the reason you came to church tonight to confess your sins. But you’re not here to find your way. You’re not here to ask for guidance from God. You told yourself that the unholiness of your thoughts needs to be cured and that is why you came here—to make this situation better for yourself—but the thought is ancient; it’s the twenty-first century and you’re the kind of person who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. The truth is, you’re here to get what you want, even if it will land you in the pits of hell for all eternity. And even if it kills you.

“You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” the low voice asks from the other side of the confessional booth.

You shake your head. “Not at all, Father. When I went to Sunday Mass this weekend, it was my first time in a church in a very long time,” you admit to him, “and this is my first confession since I was a child. I…I’m not really a devoted Catholic, you understand. I’m merely struggling right now, and I…I am in desperate need of guidance.”

Your lip quivers. Your voice resembles a tidal wave that comes and goes as nature pleases.

He can’t see you. It’s not the curtain that is separating you and is starting to feel like worlds apart—he can’t see you. He can only hear and smell you, and that alone makes your thighs clench with need. 

Should you be doing this in a church? Should you fantasize about a man of God and want to claim him, coming to his sanctuary to tell him the truth and mess with his head? You know that it’s wrong, but the wrong thing often feels too right to stop. 

When you met him at the farmer’s market the other day, he was so endlessly kind to everyone, including yourself. He invited you to Sunday mass, and you went. You went on a walk with him afterward, and there seemed to be something there, but he couldn’t act on it because he is who he is and what he is. He made a vow. He can’t have you, no matter how badly he wants to, and one look into his unfocused hazel eyes when he took off those red glasses he always wears told you that he does want you. It led to another sleepless night among many, and now you’re here.

You’re so utterly selfish, but God, you can’t stop it. When you want something, you would do anything to get it. He makes you feel things you never felt before. It’s terrifying, but you have to allow yourself to jump into unknown waters if you want to learn how to swim.

He clears his throat, and you can hear the chair creak under his weight as he shifts. Is it possible that you’re doing the same to him that he is doing to you?

“I want to start by saying that you’re really brave,” he says. The sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. “But God offers people guidance in a symbolic sense. I can take your confession, tell you how to repent for your sins, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

You sigh. “I wish you would though.”

A chuckle passes his lips. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s weighing you down, sweetheart, and we will go from there?”

Sweetheart. 

Yes, you think, this is your one-way ticket to hell. 

“I’ve been having thoughts,” you confess.

“Thoughts?” he asks.

“Yes. Unholy thoughts.” Your breath comes in weak puffs of air. The booth seems to cave in on you. You wish he would step out of his booth into yours and stuff his cock into your mouth. For him, you would shut up. You would do whatever he tells you to do, and you would do so gladly.

Fuck. You want to fuck a priest. 

But lucky for you, Father Matthew wants to fuck you too. He’s here, at midnight, because you were lost and he was still there—he told you he spends his nights at church sometimes because the city gets too loud for him. You couldn’t go anywhere else because any place where he isn’t doesn’t seem worth visiting.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath. You imagine him swallowing, his white collar constricting his labored airflow. You imagine him pulling at it to free himself, but he can’t. Those sinfully thick fingers of his would feel even better on your skin. 

“Unholy thoughts,” Father Matthew asks, “about whom, sweetheart?”

He’s pushing your buttons with that nickname. It’s so not professional. The lines are starting to blur.

“A man,” you tell him. 

“A man?”

“A man of God.”

The confession causes a bout of silence. You could have heard a hairpin drop. 

His chair creaks again, and his voice reminds you of an animalistic growl right before an apex predator attacks its prey. “And what unholy thoughts have you been having about this man of God?” he inquires.

Your inner walls clench around thin air. Sweat drips down your temples, and the arousal soaks your underwear. Your nipples strain against your shirt. If you grip the seat any harder, you will soon find wooden chips under your nails.

You lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you whisper. “And I want to touch him.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“And in your thoughts, does he satisfy you?”

Your answer comes promptly, “Always.”

There is not a scenario in which Father Matthew could possibly leave you unsatisfied. 

The chair creaks again. Something in the air shifts. 

Your voice is breathless and needy, and so fucking desperate when you speak into the silence, “Just tell me what to do, Father.”

“Okay,” he says. His leather shoes drag across the floor of the booth and toward the curtain that marks the exit of his side. The next word out of his mouth knocks all the air out of your lungs, “Kneel.”

You don’t even have time to question his request. Within seconds, the curtain through which you’ve stepped into the confessional booth is torn to the side, and there he is, in all of his glory, right in front of you, and his thick cock is straining against his black slacks.

You pinch yourself, but you’re not dreaming. This is real. This is what you wanted, and you weren’t imagining the mutual attraction due to delusions. He does want you, and he is about to break every rule in his book—and the lord’s book.

You sink to your knees. The only thing you can see on his face is pure, unbridled lust and the ugly truth of Catholic guilt. He must loathe himself for wanting you. 

Matt removes his glasses, revealing his beautiful eyes to you. In the dim candlelight, they appear almost black.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” you ask.

His hand brushes your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He steps into the booth and closes the curtain behind him. “Tonight, call me Matt.”

That is the last thing he says before he gets on his knees before you, and he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that is strong enough to make the angels howl.

His hand rests around your throat, feeling your pulse. He may not be able to see you with his eyes, but the way he touches you paints a perfect picture of your presence, and you feel every last ounce of his devotion. 

He explores the depth of your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, loving you. His hands feel beautifully rough against your skin, just like you imagined they would be after years of praying. He sees himself as the hands of God. A messenger. His goodness makes your heart swell and your core flood with more than unbridled arousal—this is human nature in all its emotional glory, and you no longer feel ashamed. You can’t possibly when he is holding you like this.

He exhales into your mouth—no, he breathes life into your soul. “You’re the most sinful yet purest thing I have ever laid my hands on,” Matt says.

You gasp against his luscious lips. “I wouldn’t want to make you turn your back on God, or–”

He cuts you off, “I did that when I first thought about your body on mine and coming so deep inside of you that you’ll carry me with you for days. I don’t care about God because if having him means that I can’t have you,” he says, “I don’t want him anymore.”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Turning a priest against God was never your intention, but you are not in charge of his feelings, nor will you ever be. Matt wants you badly enough to abandon religion, and you will carry that with you until the day you die. 

He lifts you back onto the edge of the wooden chair, pulling at your clothes and your undergarments. The moonlight hits his face as the cold air of the church hits your bare pussy. He looks ethereal like this, on his knees for you. His hazel eyes bore into your soul. He wears his heart on his sleeves and a collar around his neck. 

Your priest crosses his chest. He asks God for forgiveness. And then, with one gentle tug at your thighs, he buries his face in your wet cunt, and he feasts as if your sex was the last supper. As God’s disciple, he is determined to eat up every last bite offered to him. Every last drop from your cunt is his, and your lips part in a moan that echoes through the church like the bells did when it hit midnight.

“Fuck,” you cry out. 

He flattens his tongue against you, licking a long stripe over and then through your folds. He twirls the tip of his tongue over your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with such precision, your walls clench at the sheer explosion of pleasure. You have never felt anything like it. He turns something unholy into heaven, and you’re drowning in the river to the Garden of Eden.

His lips suction around your clit. The obscene squelching of your velvety walls fills the booth. It sounds deadly noisy to you. You want to cover your mouth to stop the moans from traveling, but he traps your hand with his, guiding them to his hand, telling you to guide him.  

Instead, one of your hands moves to his collar. It’s his turn to moan. You tug at the symbol of his priesthood, forcing his tongue deeper into your hole. He laps up your juices as though his life depends on it. 

“Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” Matt murmurs against you. 

You moan again, louder this time. He is repenting for wanting to dive into your pussy until he gets swept away by the tide, but it is far too late to back out now. Your pleasure has become his priority. 

“Lord God,” he repeats, “in your goodness have mercy on me.”

The pleasure is turning into a tight knot in your lower abdomen. You can feel it consuming you and your senses. You’re floating. The light at the end of the tunnel is not so far out of reach anymore. Every suck and every lick at your folds, and every thrust of his tongue into your tight walls pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

In your goodness, have mercy on me. 

He bites down lightly on your clit. Your toes curl, and his name comes out in a groan.

Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. 

Right now, you are his God. By drinking your arousal like holy water and pushing you toward an orgasm he is repenting. The symbolism makes your heels dig into his back as you buck your hips against his mouth, and when he adds one of those thick fingers, curling them up against that sweet spot inside of you, you can barely stand it anymore.

Create me in a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.

“God, Matthew!” your moan interrupts his plea for penance only briefly.

He swats your thigh. “No blasphemy when I feast at the altar,” he says. The vibration of his voice adds to the knot, tightening it, and threatening it to burst.

You’re almost there. Almost…

“Have mercy on me, a sinner,” he continues. His tongue slides between your folds once again, gathering your slit. His fingers curl upward again. He’s mixing different prayers, or maybe these are his own words, but you are not sure how much longer you can hold it. But he wants you to hold it. You don’t want to disappoint the man who is worshiping at your feet, your pussy, his altar, and you are his salvation as much as you are his saving grace.

“In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” he prays, “I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things—but fuck, I don’t.” 

Does that mean he loves you? It is too soon to tell that, but he is devoted, and devotion can be just as sinfully sweet as the rawest feeling of love.

“Have mercy on me, God. Amen!”

His collar is starting to tear under your vice grip. 

Matt thrusts his digit into you until it disappears, and he finally decides to show the mercy he was begging for to you. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says. 

Your thighs lock around his head as the knot breaks in two. You come, hard, and the wave tears him down with you, shooting his cum into his slacks like the good Catholic boy he is.

You let go of his collar when your orgasm has done its damage. 

“No,” he stops you. 

“No?” you ask, still breathless.

“No,” he says, lifting his head to grin at you, not like a man of God but the Devil himself. “I have not done nearly enough penance.”

As a priest, Matt is used to being on his knees until they’re bruised; until he can’t stand straight anymore, so he has to remain there, cowering before a God he more often than not does not believe in.

Before you can protest, he dives back into your endless ocean, and you have no choice but to lean back and take it. 

He is not the only one doing penance tonight, after all—you both are. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[strawhbrrries]

Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned. 

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes.  However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it. 

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here. 

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.” 

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables. 

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him. 

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet. 

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped). 

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift. 

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record. 

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.” 

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!” 

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.” 

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Sunflower Summer | Pt3

Felix x Plus Size Fem! Reader

He's home for the summer; but what does three months together mean for you and your best friend?

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

January

New Year’s had always been your least favorite time of the year. Maybe it was because of the pressure it put on you to make resolutions that you knew you’d never keep, or maybe it was the lingering thought that another year had gone by, and somehow, you were still the same.

While others celebrated new beginnings with fireworks and promises of a brighter future, you were more than content to let the night pass like any other. Just as you had done all the years before.

But this year felt different.

Felix had invited you to the annual New Year's Eve bonfire, a long-standing tradition in the small area of the town you guys resided in.

Everyone gathered by the beach, a fire crackling in the center as people reminisced about the past year and welcomed the new one. A lot of time the elementary, middle and high school students wrote their resolutions on paper and then threw them into the fire to burn in some symbolic gesture to complete whatever they wrote.

Your previous resolutions had always stayed in your head. Considering it was always the same resolution just phrased differently.

Lose weight. Drop the fat. Become three sizes smaller.

It had never worked, just gotten worse it seemd.

And eventually you just stopped making that resolution.

You hadn’t been to the bonfire in years- since before Felix had left for Korea. Back then, it was just the two of you and a few of your closest childhood friends, huddled under blankets and sharing jokes until the clock struck twelve. But now, the prospect of a larger crowd and the attention that came with being around Felix left a knot in your stomach.

You overthought your outfit to the point of nausea, and almost backed out of your plans.

"I promise, it’ll be fun," Felix had said earlier that afternoon, his warm smile so convincing that you found yourself agreeing despite your hesitation.

As the two of you walked along the sandy path toward the bonfire, the sound of laughter and faint music drifted through the air. You could see the glow of the fire in the distance, a gathering of familiar faces you hadn’t seen in years.

Faces the boy next to you hadn't seen in even longer. Felix walked beside you, his arm brushing against yours occasionally. It shot sparks all along your body. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you, as if checking to make sure you were okay.

The moment you arrived, people greeted Felix with loud enthusiasm. Some were old friends; others were people who had grown up with him and were just as shocked as you had been when he became a famous idol, some were people who had come to know of his existence once he became famous.

You stood a little off to the side, allowing him to catch up while you observed the group. The fire was warm against the cool evening breeze, casting flickering shadows on the faces of those gathered around it.

Felix was laughing and smiling politely, and the glow of the large bonfire and the countless mini ones were highlighting his face magically.

Felix walked towards you and waved at you to join the group. You gladly made your way over, curious about the look he was giving you.

As you were about to step closer to be by the side of Felix, a man, slightly swaying on his feet with the unmistakable slur of too much alcohol, stumbled over to Felix. He gripped a bottle in his hand and he reeked of liquor. His face lit up in recognition, and you immediately felt a sense of discomfort creep up your spine.

"Hey, you’re that guy, right? The one my daughter’s always talkin’ about," he said, his voice loud enough to draw attention. He jabbed a finger in Felix’s direction, blinking in an exaggerated manner. "Lee… Lee something?"

Felix smiled politely, giving a small nod. "Yeah, Lee Felix."

"Yeah, yeah, that’s it! My daughter’s obsessed with you, man. She’s got posters and everything, you're her favorite, base or briar or something or another." the man continued, his eyes now darting to you. "Guess even you’ve got a type, huh?"

You froze, the implication in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, but his gaze lingered on you with a smirk that made you want to disappear.

Felix’s expression shifted, his smile vanishing in an instant as his jaw tightened. "I think that’s enough, mate," he said, his voice calm but firm, stepping subtly in front of you as if shielding you from the man’s gaze.

You adjusted your shirt, covering up the little skin that had potential to show and adjusted your shorts.

This is embarrassing...

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

The drunk man snorted, waving a dismissive hand. "No harm meant, mate. Just sayin’, didn’t expect someone like you with… someone like her." He waved his hand in a gesture that mimicked the shape of your body. And then he motioned to Felix who was much much skinnier than you.

Your heart dropped, and for a split second, you wished you hadn’t come. But before you could react, Felix took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. "I said that’s enough."

The man blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in Felix’s tone, and muttered something under his breath before stumbling off into the crowd. You stood there, feeling small, your throat tightening as you fought the urge to shrink away from everyone. Felix turned to you, his eyes softening.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his hand finding your arm.

You nodded, even though you weren’t. "Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s- let’s go sit by the fire."

Felix gave you a look that said he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gently grabbed your wrist as he walked with you to the fire where a few of your childhood friends were seated, catching up on the year. You settled onto one of the logs circling the flames, the warmth from the fire offering some comfort.

The conversation flowed around you, stories of what everyone had been up to filling the space. Felix sat beside you, his presence grounding you, though you couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of embarrassment from the earlier encounter.

You inhaled the smell of the burning wood, and Felix's natural scent intermingled with his laundry detergent and deodorant. It calmed you slightly.

At some point, one of your old friends leaned over, giving you a playful grin. "I haven't seen you in forever Y/N. You’re looking good, baby girl. I should have taken my chance with you all those years ago," he teased, his voice light, but the flirtation overt. He had always been that way.

You laughed, missing his unashamed personality, though you could feel Felix tense beside you. You glanced at him wondering what was up, his jaw clenched just like it had been earlier. He stayed silent, but you could sense the shift in his mood.

The night wore on, and as the clock edged closer to midnight, the atmosphere became more relaxed. People laughed, shared drinks, and enjoyed the last moments of the year. You and Felix strayed from the fire towards the shore, the tension from earlier melting away into something else as you looked at the moon together.

As the countdown to midnight began, you noticed Felix inching closer to you. Your heartbeat quickly, but you were sure it was drowned out by the sound of everyone shouting out numbers. It was loud but your focus was solely on him as his arm almost pressed up fully against yours.

You turned and his eyes met yours, the flickering light of the distant fires reflecting in his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The noise, the people, the awkwardness- it all dissolved, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble.

"Three, two, one… Happy New Year!" The crowd erupted, couple kissing, kids screaming, drinks being chugged, but you barely registered it as Felix leaned in, his hand gently cupping the side of your face. You didn't even have time for you to lose your breath or wonder if he was going to kiss you before his lips brushed your forehead in the softest, most tender kiss.

"Happy New Year, Y/N-ie," he whispered, his voice low and warm, the vibrations sending a wave of heat through your entire body.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, eyes zoning in on his freckles; but before you could say anything, someone called out for Felix, breaking the moment. He pulled away slightly, but the look in his eyes told you that something had shifted between the two of you, something unspoken but undeniable.

Later as you guys returned to sit with your friends, the fire crackling in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this year, things would be different.

The rest of the party blurred together. People mingled, the bonfire crackled and popped, and the cool ocean breeze carried the sound of distant fireworks across the water until the pitch black sky became a dark purple. It was beautiful, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, replaying that single moment- the brush of Felix’s lips against your forehead, the warmth of his touch, and the way his eyes had lingered on yours just a second too long. The way his lips had lingered a bit longer as well.

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was just the excitement of the night, the energy of a new year about to begin. But as the time ticked by, you couldn't shake the feeling that something between you and Felix had changed, even if neither of you had said it out loud.

Felix was by your side almost entirely the rest of the night, his presence a comforting constant, even when he was pulled away by old friends or fans who recognized him.

You noticed the way he always circled back to you, how his arm would brush against yours as he sat down again, his quiet smile lighting up the dark beach. Each time he returned, asking you every single time if you were still doing okay, you felt that same flutter in your chest, the one you tried so hard to ignore.

As the night became early morning, the crowd thinned, and only a few people remained around the fire, chatting and laughing quietly. The energy had mellowed, and you found yourself sitting beside Felix in a comfortable silence. You were wrapped in a blanket he had found for you earlier, the soft fabric doing little to calm the jittery warmth in your stomach.

Your eyes were starting to droop slightly, and the sunshine boy saw your sleepy state.

"Ready to head back?" Felix asked softly, turning to you with a gentle smile, and pushing some of your hair out of your sleepy eyes.

You nodded, though part of you wished the night didn’t have to end. Together, you stood and said goodbye to the few friends still gathered by the fire, offering hugs and waves before making your way back toward the path home.

The walk was peaceful, the beach quiet except for the occasional sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the typical animals. Lix walked beside you, close enough that your arms brushed with each and every step. Neither of you said anything, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting, filled with an unspoken understanding that you couldn’t quite put into words.

When you finally reached your house, the front porch light glowing dimly in the distance, Felix stopped at the foot of the driveway, turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours for something- though what, you weren’t entirely sure.

"This was nice," you said quietly, hugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders, as if it could somehow protect you from the emotions swirling in your chest.

"Yeah," Felix replied, his voice soft, almost tentative. "It was."

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to say next. The night had been so strange, filled with moments that felt too big, too meaningful to just brush off. You wanted to ask him if he felt it too- if that kiss on the forehead had been more than just a friendly gesture. But the words caught in your throat, and before you could gather the courage, Felix spoke again.

"About what that guy said earlier," he began, his voice lower now, serious. "I know it bothered you. And I should’ve said something sooner, but… you don’t need to care what anyone thinks, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You blinked, the memory of the drunk man’s cruel words flashing through your mind. For a moment, you hadn’t wanted Felix to notice how much it hurt, how deeply those insecurities ran. But he always noticed, didn’t he?

"I know, it doesn't usually since I hear it so much." you whispered, though the weight of those words still pressed against your chest. "It’s just… hard sometimes."

Felix nodded, his expression softening. "I get that. But…you’re beautiful, Y/N. In every way. And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you- something you hadn’t seen before, or maybe something you hadn’t let yourself notice.

"Felix, I-"

But before you could finish, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. His touch was warm, his fingers intertwining with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N." You looked up at him, his face serious.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and your mind raced at all the possibilities of what he could possibly be preparing to say.

What if...

What if..

What if-

"I think I left my house key in my pajama pants."

You blinked and looked down at the salmon-colored shorts he was wearing.

"Oh...oh. Um...do you want me to...uh...are your parents up?"

"They went with my sisters to our relatives."

"Ahh...ah." You scratched your neck and Felix looked at you sheepishly. "You know you're always welcomed over at my house, so why don't you just stay the night?" Felix nodded, a smile on his face as you headed into the house.

You guys kicked off your shoes and made your way to the upper floor.

"I know that this is kind of gross but I don't feel like showering. I'm exhausted. I'll just have to wash my sheets tomorrow you mumbled, as you grabbed an extra toothbrush for Felix. "You can shower if you'd like-"

"No, I'm exhausted as well, it's been a long day." He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked at you in the reflection of your medicine cabinet.

Your heart was nearly about to explode when Felix lifted his head up. "I feel bad about getting your brother's sheets dirty with the campfire and salt water scent though..."

And sun. Felix smelled like sunshine...

"It's fine...I could wash them. Or you can just sleep in my bed." You felt your face warm at the suggestion, willing yourself to look at the toothpaste coming out of the tube. Willingly yourself to not make that suggestion awkward.

"That sounds fine-" His voice was slightly muffled as he scrubbed away at his teeth. He spit out. "Just like when we were kids and had our sleepovers."

You nodded and you guys opted to change out of your clothes, even if it meant more laundry.

You climbed into your bed, and was expecting Felix to place himself at the complete opposite side of the mattress, but rather he laid directly next to you, his chest facing your back.

You guys laid in silence for a second until he spoke.

"I didn't realize how much I missed you." His voice was almost inaudible, and you felt a knot form in your throat.

"I've missed you. A lot." You felt him shift forward slightly, and you tensed instinctively.

"Are you glad I'm home?"

"Elated."

You guys laid in silence once more, your eyes slowly falling more and more, until his voice rung again.

"Let’s make a resolution," he said softly, his voice deep and extremely weighted with the prospect of sleep. "This year...let’s not hold back anymore. No more pretending that things will stay the same when they won't. They'll change if we at least try to change them."

You turned to him, the quiet intensity in his sleepy eyes making it hard to think straight. You could feel the weight of what he was saying- the weight of everything that had gone unspoken between you.

"Okay," you whispered.

Felix’s lips curved into a small smile, the kind that made your heart race. And then, with a tenderness that made your chest ache, he leaned towards you and pressed another kiss to your forehead- soft and lingering, like a promise of something more.

When he pulled back, he looked exhausted but content. "Happy New Year, Y/N."

"Happy New Year, Felix," you yawned.

This year things were going to be different.

You didn't know if Felix held the same meaning in the resolution as you did.

Not holding back on your growing feelings.

That growing love.

But even so you were completely committed to making that resolution a reality.

No doubt about.

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @kayleefriedchicken

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xii. twelve: let it go

benedict bridgerton has not left his room for days now. he laid down with his agony, curled on his sheets. his pillow wet in the tears that served as witness of this torment.

most people grieve for those who don't know what they have until it is gone. but, what about those who do know? those who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most. isn't it so much worse for them?

how many sleepless nights now, he does not know. when they were together, he avoided sleep so he could have more time with her. and now that she is gone, he wishes to sleep more so he might know fewer hours of her absence, and perhaps, spend longer in dreams with her.

it took him days to even talk, forgetting his own voice as he got so familiar with his cries. he wanted to be happy but found it painfully hard as her love was his happiness.

yet, what if love is not here to make us happy? perhaps, it exists to show us how much we can endure.

but benedict did not want to endure anymore.

for the first time in a long while, he was terrified. oh, how terrifying to face the future without the one you planned it with. how can you wake up from a nightmare if you are not asleep?

someone knocked on his door, one that he has recognised as anthony's knuckles by the firmness of the sound. he did not want to stay on his bed forever, so he desperately pushed himself out, trying to see what has been of the others. he neared to open the door slightly ajar before sitting down on a couch defeatedly, his brother surprised by the turning of the knob.

he stepped in, noting the desolateness of the room. he wanted to be there for him, but losing a loved one you were never able to fully love was a different kind of pain—one that anthony was not familiar with at all.

so, he did the only task he was left with. he walked to him, giving the pad he has been holding unto to his younger brother.

"her journal," he maintained his voice in a serene one, seemingly afraid that anything higher would trigger something from the other.

benedict turned to him at that with shock. he did not know she writes. he often thought the girl preferred saying her thought out loud than put it to paper. he opened it, reading from entry to entry, word by word.

a small snicker left his lips when the most he could read about was how the young little silva had fun infuriating him. it was clear on her handwriting—the curve of the letters, the stretch of its end. she was full of excitement when she was writing this. it was written in her point of view. he turned the twelfth page over, only to find that no entry follows anymore.

"why did she stopped writing when she was eight?" he turned to the older, eyes still with traces of redness. it was around the time armand had snitched his daughter to benedict, saying that the girl likes him.

"she said there was no longer a need to write what she felt because she can say it to you directly." anthony offered him a small smile, leaning down to turn the pages to the last, "she wrote on the day she left for the parliament."

the viscount watched as his brother traced each word with his fingers, afraid that it would be lost before he even realises it. noticeably, this one is written in the way her words talked to him directly. anthony placed a hand on his shoulder before stepping back again.

"i guess she knew she could no longer say it to you again."

my artsy,

i think i have loved you since i met you. i just mistook it for curiosity.

there are so many forms of love, and although it may have begun unromantically, i knew you were someone special to me. i would like to apologize—for coming into your life just to break your heart to pieces and leave you in the night.

i really would have loved to be able to attend the astronomical convention with you. we spent a night talking about it. if i knew i will not even get to go, i would have rathered spent the time with my lips in yours.

and so, if regrettably, the gods had it planned that this life of mine will never be enough to show you all my love, i promise—i will find you in another. and hopefully then, i still wouldn't run out of love and continue to pester you on to the next, and next, and for eternity.

because my love, we were never a match made in heaven. i am afraid afraid we are made in both far ends of the farthest cosmos.

and i will search every star, every galaxy, every universe, and every timeline until i find you.

know that i love you, down to my last word.

until we meet again,

forever your loraine

he pushed the pad farther from his eyes, afraid that the ink would smudge and her words can no longer be read. he held his head down, anthony going to his side at once and offered an arm at him.

benedict leaned weakly to him. he had told her before, and now it became his reality. the young lady was a fire—his fire—and he does not find himself worrying even if she will burn him. despite her absence, she still set him ablazed. he longs for nothing but her. how many life does he have to burn before he lives with her? and he could almost hear a whisper.

a hundred more. just a hundred more.

and he almsot felt relieved at that. a hundred more would be nothing. he was even prepared to burn thousands. that was how bewitched he was.

she was lovely—extremely, completely, entirely.

yet, even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the following day, lady bridgerton could not hold it anymore. her son was spiralling away. she missed him. so, she ascended their stairs, aiming for the room of the said son.

anthony has told her that he was, at the very least, responsive. she did not want her son to be reduced as someone thankfully responsive. benedict has always been full of colors.

he was an art himself.

she knocked, turning the knob and was surprised it was not locked. violet entered slowly, seeing the figure behind a canvas.

she called out to him, "my son, come with us."

there was no response, continuing to walk towards the man. entering the room fully, she could see random sketches of the young silva.

picking up a paper, his mother commented, "she was beautiful."

violet could hear a small hum from her son, still not tearing his gaze away from the art he is currently working on, "she will forever be."

she warmly smiled at that. the son who has repeatedly told her before that what she and edmund had was rare, now utterly taken beyond mortal relations.

she placed an arm around his shoulders for comfort as she took a look at the painting, "you love her so much."

he added a detail on her features, "if i could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint."

her heart broke for his son she almost felt like it was her fault. maybe, that was why the two met each other and loved each other when they were still too young. they were not meant to grow older together.

she placed a peck on top of his head, "will you come out with us soon?"

benedict placed down his brush, exhaling defeatedly. nonetheless, he turned to his mother with a weak smile, "after i finish this."

violet nodded at that before giving him back his solitude. it took quite the days before he completed the artwork. the sun rose and set, yet the stars only dimmed.

on the night he finally finished the painting, the dead of night was clear and the stars began to find their shine once again. a hopeful thought graced his mind.

perhaps, someday, somewhere, at a less miserable time, they will see each other again.

he turned to his table, scrambling to get a paper and pen. he will not let the night go on as if it was just any other night. this darkness shined a light, one he only recognised when the girl was present. and maybe, you can call it a pathetic attempt of hope, it was the young silva watching him as his hand gripped the pen.

my loraine,

i will remember you longer than i knew you, and i will never come to terms with that.

thus, i will find you when you return, even if you are a thousand years late.

give me your permission and i will continue to love you in another. believe that i will run amock across the universe until i find you.

and so, when you see the world ending in the newspapers, trust that it is my work because i still have not met you again.

let us make us happen, some other time.

until we meet again,

forever your artsy

perhaps, they were right in putting love into books and poems—perhaps, it could not live anywhere else. they did say that everything will be fine in the end. and if it isn't, then it is not the end yet.

he has learned that grief is not accepting that she died. it is acknowledging that she is still alive in everything that he does.

and so he hopes—he hopes that all this grief stays with him because it is all the unexpressed love that he did not get to tell her. he will never let this go.

indeed, what is grief if not love persevering.

the pain will remind them of each other. when they meet later, if there is a later, they will recognise each other by it.

and just because this life is painful, it does not mean the next one will be.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

[wwinterwitch]

rational, irrational — coriolanus snow

summary: the newest peacekeeper in your district can't seem to stay away from you, but you're just having casual fun together...right? pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!fem reader word count: 6.5k  tags: smut and fluff, there's plot here, corio being corio, he's all over you the man's desperate, briefly suggestive in public (no one sees tho), specifics about reader (plays guitar, has a mom and dad, wears a dress, is carried by corio and is shorter), i wrote it thinking reader is 20 and he's 21 btw, dry humping, everything's rough and passionate, clothed f/naked m, marking and biting, unprotected p in v, pet names (princess, baby, my beautiful girl), he moans a lot (and whimpers!), reader is an overthinking queen, love confession (mutual)

happy new year my loves, i wish you the happiest 2024!! i'm so so proud of this fic, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | thg masterlist | read on ao3

Coriolanus Snow is a very patient guy. So patient, that he sits quietly by one of the corners of that filthy-looking place while you have a good time. He's not really fond of spending time with the people in District Twelve– why would he? Everything about this place makes him nauseous, and he's pretty sure he would've found a way to get back to the Capitol already if it wasn't for you.

You, with your stupid smile and your stupid eyes and your stupid charm that managed to captivate him enough to actually make him want to be here. He may not be a fan of the people from your District, and he might not even be that interested in music at all, but he’s definitely a fan of seeing you enjoy yourself. He’s willing to sit throughout the entire performance because he knows you’re really passionate about your music, and how much you like it when he’s in the crowd to watch you.

The only thing that makes the experience tolerable is getting to see you play your guitar and twirl around in your pretty dress to the sound of the music. Hell, he even thought he was ascending to heaven every time you'd turn to look in his direction, noticing the way your smile would widen when you eventually lock eyes with him.

As soon as you got off the tiny stage, he made his way towards you with the clear intention of getting out of there to finally be alone with you. Before he can even say anything, you notice him approaching and immediately hand your guitar to one of your friends before you practically trot towards him.

There’s a big smile on your face when you’re standing in front of him, immediately pulling him in for a hug as a way of saying hi. He was busy before the show, unfortunately, so you didn’t have the chance to talk to him until now.

“You were incredible up there,” he congratulates you, leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head, his arms keeping you close to him.

Blushing lightly, you rest your head on his chest, allowing the hug to last longer than you initially anticipated before finally taking a step back from him. “Thank you.”

“Sorry I showed up a little late today.” He looks genuinely apologetic, even when you’ve told him countless times he shouldn’t feel pressured to be here every time you’re going to perform. “I wanted to bring you flowers, too, but I didn’t have time.”

You immediately shake your head when you hear him start apologizing. “It’s okay, Coriolanus. You don’t have to explain yourself, really,” you insist like always, because it really isn’t necessary. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, and even if he were, you wouldn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything for you.

He smiles down at you, silently appreciating the fact that you understand his early absence. Leaning closer again, he puts a hand on the small of your back. “Should we go now?” 

The question makes you giggle. He's been like this since the first time the two of you started seeing each other. He's always wanting to spend time with you alone, away from your friends and other people he, again, doesn't care about at all. He's not here in Twelve to make friends, after all.

But even when you’ve always enjoyed his eagerness to get some alone time with you, you promised your friends to hangout with them after the show. "Let me have one drink with my friends and we'll be on our way,” you quickly reply. The look on his face was more than enough to let you know he was not happy about that plan, which makes you take a step closer to him to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "One drink. I promise."

You start walking away before he has time to come up with something to argue back, so he has no other choice but to wait even longer. He kept a serious expression on his face, barely making any attempts to join in on the conversation your friend group was having, even when everyone tried their best to include him in it. He clearly hated the idea of still having to share you with other people.

As much as your friends have expressed their concerns about his behavior, you can't help but enjoy the fact that he seems to be so incredibly obsessed with you. Yes, it's maybe a little too much sometimes, but you actually like it.

You like that he's always touching your body in any possible way, whether it's holding your hand, rounding your waist, or putting a hand at the small of your back. You also like that he's always keeping a watchful eye on you. It's like you're his most prized possession; he just can't risk losing you, so he's always following you around, making sure everyone treats you right and with respect. Whoever dares to mess with what's his would regret it for the rest of their life.

From the moment he laid eyes on you, he just had this need to have you. To know you, to keep you close, to gain your attention. Already used to getting what he wants, he knew it was a matter of time before he managed to do just that. It didn't take long before you were accepting to spend more and more time with him, and from that moment forward he's been glued to your side. 

It's still a mystery to you what he, a guy surrounded by privileges and luxuries from the Capitol, is even seeing in you, a nobody from the most disgraceful District. Still, you were surprised by how incredibly attentive he is with you.

Even when he knows he could get in serious trouble, he always manages to sneak away from his duties as a Peacekeeper to spend time with you. He has never ever missed one of your shows. Tigris is always asking about ‘the mystery girl he has a crush on, that she just can’t wait to meet one day’ whenever the two of them manage to talk.

Even your family has questioned you about what the hell you're up to every time you come back home holding a bouquet of azaleas. He used to give you roses, until he learned you actually prefer azaleas– not any azaleas, no, because you like the purple ones over any other of the colors so he's always getting you purple azaleas.

However, no matter how good he treats you or how seemingly obsessed he is, you always remind yourself not to think too much of it, knowing better than to get your hopes up regarding someone like Coriolanus Snow.

Because you have to be realistic here. You’ll always be in District Twelve, but he’ll eventually go back to the Capitol. Neither of you have really wanted to talk about what would happen then, choosing to enjoy the time you get to have together instead, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think about it more and more everyday.

He could promise you many things. That he’ll keep in touch with you, that he’ll find a way to visit, that he’ll never let the distance be an issue. But that’s just stupid. With such a lavish life, surrounded by privileges and important people, it’s only a matter of time before he forgets you even existed.

But it’s okay if he forgets. You’ve come to terms with that ending by now, because it’s part of what you knew you’d have to live with if you decided to get involved with him.

So, even when it’s difficult, you try to remind yourself not to look forward to a future with him because people like you and people like him simply cannot have a future together. The only thing you do allow yourself to think about is that, at least for the time being, he seems to be interested in you and he's ridiculously attractive, so why not having fun while you can?

So Coriolanus waited and waited, until you were putting away your guitar and finishing your third drink –definitely not one, he noticed– to head out the little pub with him. In a matter of seconds, his hand is resting once again on your lower back as he guides you outside, making sure to move people out of the way for you.

He offered to carry your guitar case before grabbing your hand and starting to head towards the forest. Like many times before, the two of you had to sneak around in dark alleys and deserted streets to avoid being seen. No one should be going into the forest at night, especially if we’re talking about a young girl with a Peacekeeper all by themselves. 

"Stop it!" you warn him in a playful whisper when he's grabbing your hips yet again, cornering you against a brick wall in a poorly-lit street. Still, you show barely any resistance or actual annoyance as you wrap an arm around his neck. "We'll get caught."

"So?" he asks with a mischievous grin, leaning closer to you. "If that happens, I'll just make something up." Shrugging, he brushes your worries off as he presses his body to yours, pushing you against the wall. "You really made me wait back there, you know?" he adds in a lower voice, his face impossibly closer, your nose brushing with his. "How do you expect me to behave now when I've been waiting all night to be alone with you?"

That last comment makes you look up at him in a way that encourages him to squeeze your body against the wall even more, making you gasp a little.

Your body is always testing him. He's almost convinced that you know the power you hold over him and completely take it to your advantage. This is definitely one of those times, because you've decided to wear that dress he loves so much on you and you just keep looking up at him with that doe-eyed look that's making it really difficult to keep himself under control.

He settles for a kiss for now, pressing his lips to yours in a way that perfectly shows how much he's needing you. He holds your face with one hand, his tongue immediately moving past your lips and inside your mouth to deepen the kiss. Your legs almost tremble when he captures your lower lip between his teeth before pulling back entirely, a small smirk adorning his lips when he locks eyes with you again because he knows he's not the only one that's forgetting you're in the middle of a street.

Yes, he's down bad, but he's also aware of the effect he has on you and he loves watching it reflected on your face.

He lets out a low chuckle when you eventually push him away from you, deciding to continue the walk to the forest, grabbing your hand again to guide you through the narrow streets and making sure to keep an eye out to avoid getting caught.

"What did you tell your parents this time?" he asks, the playful tone in his voice evident. You didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning.

"Sleepover," you simply say, blushing.

"Again?"

The little chuckle that escapes his lips makes you blush even more, lightly hitting his arm with your available hand. "Would you prefer I tell them I'm sneaking into the forest with you?"

There's a brief silence, and for a second you thought that was it regarding that conversation, until you hear him speak again. "Do you think they'd like me?"

You're not entirely sure where that question is coming from. At first you thought it was just another little comment to tease you, but when you look up at him you notice the expression on his face. He genuinely seems serious about it, and he briefly looks down at you before looking ahead, seemingly intrigued by your answer.

Would your parents like him? Perhaps your mom will be thrilled that you found someone because you've rarely ever talked to her about anyone potentially capturing your interest in a romantic way. Even if you reveal that he’s a guy from the Capitol. You can already picture her bombarding Corio with compliments, and the thought of them meeting actually makes you visibly smile.

But your dad might be a completely different story. He's always talking about how much he hates the Capitol, after all. And the fact that he almost got in trouble with the Peacekeepers recently might be another strong indicator that perhaps he'll have his reservations about someone like him dating you.

But he's not being serious about this, you tell yourself. This is his way of teasing you, of course.

Still, the look on his face stops you from being entirely playful about your answer, because despite your brain trying to remind you to be realistic about the nature of your relationship, part of you fears he really wants to know what you have to say.

"I don't know," you eventually reply, voice a lot lower than you expected. "Perhaps your charm can persuade them too."

You notice him smile after your last comment, but you don't know if that answer was enough for him. Maybe it wasn't. "I'm sure I can find a way to win them over," he replies as confident as ever. Again, you're not sure if he's just joking or not. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything else about it and you decide to stay quiet too.

Already in the forest, it was practically impossible to get his hands away from your body. You had to walk with his arms around you, his lips occasionally pressing against your temple, neck or the side of your face. If you managed to slip from his grip even for the shortest of instances, he'd grab your arm and pull you back into his embrace.

It's only fair that he gets to hold you close to him as much as he wants. He has been patient enough for you, after all. He stayed in that bar to watch you have fun with your friends while you barely paid any attention to him. Do you really expect him to keep waiting until you reach that stupid cabin? Not a chance. Not when he's been waiting to be alone with you for hours.

The two of you finally reach the cabin and he only moves away from your body to open the door for you, his eyes hungrily trailing down your body as you walk inside. That goddamn dress looks just so good on you, his hands are practically shaking in anticipation as he closes the door behind him.

You turn around to look at him with a soft smile, watching as he carefully places your guitar case on the floor, leaving it resting against a wall before walking towards you. He's immediately grabbing your face with his hands, pulling you in for a kiss so incredibly desperate that it almost makes your legs tremble.

He's always been like this– passionate, devoted, needy. He kisses you like your mouth is the air he needs in order to stay alive. He takes a few steps backwards until he's once again cornering you against the wall, and the way he presses his body against yours with urgency isn't doing much to help your poor state.

"Corio..." you whisper, surrounded by the darkness of the cabin, seeing his features illuminated by the moonlight coming from one of the windows. He takes his time to look at you– really look at you, marveling at how your eyes are reflecting all the raw emotions he's feeling right now in this very moment with you. The way your body silently expresses your need for him to continue, how your chest rises and falters faster than usual.

But he also focuses on other things. Things you probably don't even know he'll be thinking about when he looks at you like this. Because he also takes a second to admire how unbelievably beautiful you are and the way your body fits so perfectly against his. He even has the time to realize how fast his own heart is beating, that foreign feeling that keeps appearing within him every time he's near you completely overtaking him.

You gasp softly when one of his hands lifts your dress, enough to reach your thigh as he squeezes your flesh with a low groan. "You made me wait all night," he mutters, sounding genuinely upset at this still– offended, even. "I went to see your little concert to be with you, and that's how you pay me? Just ignoring me?"

"I didn't–"

"You did," he insists, and despite the anger and frustration in his voice, you know he's not really directing any of those emotions at you. Or at least not entirely. He's just really desperate to be with you, to feel more of what you have to offer. 

There's a brief pause where Coriolanus is taking his chance to move his hand from your thigh to your ass, urging your hips forward to meet his half-way. You let out a soft moan, he smirks devilishly. "I don't think that was very nice of you."

Shortly after that last comment, he's leaning down to press his lips on your neck. Every kiss is sloppy, hurried, desperate, his hand on your ass urgently pushing you forward while he presses his growing bulge against your lower stomach.

The low moans escaping his lips makes you shiver, gripping his biceps while you tilt your head back against the wall to expose more of your neck to him.

His teeth dig into your flesh, making you moan louder. "I'm sorry..." you mutter in a breathless voice, feeling his frustration in the way he's handling your body. "I'm sorry..."

He completely ignores your apologies, much more preoccupied on kissing down your neck towards your collarbone. Your back arches when his lips trail lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your cleavage.

The hand on your ass moves to the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up until your knee is practically leveling with his hips, aligning your bodies better. The gesture exposes you just enough, creating the perfect angle for him to grind against you properly.

He moves back to watch your reaction as he rocks his hips forward, his clothed erection pressing against the fabric of your underwear in a delicious friction. Your broken moan echoes in the empty cabin, combined with the groan of pure ecstasy that escapes his lips.

"All night," he repeats through gritted teeth. "All fucking night you had me waiting."

You didn't reply. If you tried to say you didn't, he'd argue back. If you tried to apologize, he wouldn't listen. Unlike what many would think, you've genuinely got to know him during his stay in your district. You know it's better to just shut up and let him win, at least sometimes– especially times like this when he's making you feel so good and you don’t really have the strength or mind to insist.

He's probably the most stubborn person you'll ever meet. There's no way of ever making him change his mind about anything. But you like him just like that.

He's kissing your lips again, just as desperate as before, hungrily claiming your mouth. Without moving back from the kiss, he grabs your other leg to fully lift you off the ground. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, keeping your hands on his shoulders for support while he walks towards the couch that's in front of the empty fireplace with you in his arms.

He gently places your body on top of the couch, making sure you're comfortable as he moves back from you. A soft smirk appears on his lips when his eyes meet yours. With desperate hands and rushed movements, he starts removing the jacket of his Peacekeeper uniform, and you watch in silent appreciation as he removes his clothing on top of you.

First it was the jacket, then it was the plain white t-shirt he was wearing underneath, barely giving you time to admire his torso before he's leaning down to kiss you, continuing the heavy and passionate make out.

You run your hands up and down his back, careful not to be too rough with the way your fingers trace his skin. Even when the injuries on his back have healed completely, you were still fearful of hurting him.

Unlike you, Coriolanus is anything but gentle. One of his hands keeps a strong grip on your hip, pinning you down to the worn-out couch. The other moves up your frame, groping your breasts to his will. Still, despite the roughness of it all, there's an undeniable sense of care in the way he treats you. He holds onto you so tight because he physically can't bring himself to hold you in any other way, and because he knows you like that extra pressure his strong hands provide whenever he touches your body.

He'll never ever keep a strong grip on you like this with the intention of hurting you. It's not meant to hurt, but to show you through his touch how badly he needs to feel your body. How he can't function properly if he's not keeping you close. How he wants to make sure you're actually there with him, making him feel like this, and that you won't disappear into thin air to leave him completely alone. He can't let you disappear. He won't be able to live if you go.

The familiar sound of his belt echoes in the room, and you don't need to pull away from the kiss and look down to know he's urgently trying to get rid of the barrier of clothing separating your bodies.

"Take your panties off," he ordered in a rushed voice, moving back just enough to look at you. The huge amount of urgency hidden behind his captivating blue eyes makes you blush despite yourself, marveling at how he’s able to give you an instruction but still look like he’s pleading for it. "You can keep the dress on, though," he adds not too long after, taking another look down your body appreciatively. "It looks so pretty on you."

You immediately do as told. He gives you just enough space to reach under your dress to slide your panties down your legs while he finishes undoing his belt, starting to unzip his pants now.

It's actually a lot harder to remove your underwear than you initially anticipated, struggling to fully get rid of them at first due to your boots. He quickly notices it, helping to take them off before finally getting rid of your panties.

Waiting not-so-patiently (a thing you might have in common with him, apparently), you watch as Coriolanus focuses back on unzipping his pants, hurriedly sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. You barely catch a glimpse of his rigid cock before he's lifting one of your legs up again, pressing his body against yours and giving you absolutely no time to react as he's filling you up in one swift, hard thrust of his hips.

A shuddering moan of pure relief escapes his lips when he's finally able to feel your heat surrounding him. He holds onto your body for dear life, burying his face in your neck, needing to feel you close to him while he stays balls-deep inside you for a second. Savoring it, cherishing it, thanking whatever it was that put you in his life, trying to remember exactly how it feels to be like this with you just in case you ever decide to keep him waiting again. 

Not at all ready for such intrusion, you let out a pathetic little whimper that makes the moment that much enjoyable for him. You hold tightly onto his body as well, your palms pressed to his shoulder blades, brows furrowed in both pleasure and slight discomfort.

"Fucking–" he grunts, breathlessly, feeling like the happiest man on earth right now, "missed this."

He starts to move, slowly sliding his cock out of you before slamming back inside with such force that it makes you whimper out loud once again. Every beautiful sound coming out of your mouth drives him even more insane, encouraging him to do whatever he possibly can to keep them coming.

An almost animalistic groan escapes his lips when he feels you biting onto his shoulder. Your teeth sinking into his skin like that makes him lose the little self-control he had left, the movements of his hips only increasing as they become quicker, rougher. It's practically impossible to think any coherent thoughts or try to speak, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock fucking you relentlessly, aggressively, desperately.

Coriolanus fucks you like his life depends on it. Like he's been deprived of your body for years. Like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance to do it so he's forced to make the most of it. He leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck, drawing a particularly lovely moan when you feel him suck on your skin in a way that'll definitely leave a mark later. You really don't care, he can mark you all he wants.

His hips move rapidly, refusing to give you even the tiniest of seconds to relax. The impact of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his cock sliding in and out of your aching little hole are as loud as the sounds coming from your mouths. You whimper desperately, he groans completely consumed by the feeling of sharing this moment with you.

"That's it, princess," he praises you in a low voice. You're being so good for him, gladly taking every inch of him, squeezing him in a way that's making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he forces his hips to move as fast as possible. "You feel incredible...so tight...just perfect for me."

When he moves back from your neck, he could've swore he almost came right there and then just by looking at your face. You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, swollen lips parted while you keep moaning and whimpering for him, skin glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed. The fact that you look so beautifully wrecked thanks to him has got to be one of his biggest accomplishments. He'll probably never get enough of this sight, of you, of your body, of your wet pussy taking him so incredibly good that he's not sure he can keep this up much longer.

And he knows you can't handle much of this either. You don't need to say it out loud for him to know– which is good, because it's not like you can utter a single word right now. He can see it in the way you're struggling to keep your eyes open, hear it in the way your cries come out more and more broken, feel it in the way your walls repeatedly squeeze him tighter and tighter.

His tongue invades your mouth if a passionate kiss, all messy and hot, teeth clashing while you moan into each other's mouths. He kisses you hungrily for a few seconds before pressing his forehead to yours, knowing it's a matter of time before he gets to feel you come around his cock.

"Corio..." you call out his name, barely able to speak. He moves back just enough to look at you.

"I know, baby. I know," he replies in a soft voice, completely contrasting with his rapid thrusts and ragged breathing.

He closes his eyes for a second, so lost in the moment, feeling his entire body on fire and his heart beating like crazy. He sneaks an arm underneath you, lifting your hips just enough and keeping them there, both of you voicing how good that new angle feels with a particularly louder moan.

When he opens his eyes again, noticing the way you're looking up at him, he realizes it. How good this feels because he's sharing it with you. How he'll never be able to share moments like this with anyone that's not you, and even if he dares to try it'll always be second-best now that he got to experience you.And it's not just the sex, but everything. From the pride of making you blush with the tiniest of compliments, to the honor of holding your hand. From the warm and fuzzy feeling inside him every time you kiss him, to the way you seem so interested to hear his stories about his life back in the Capitol. From the absolute gift that is seeing you laugh at one of his jokes (even the bad ones), to the minutes he spends collecting purple azaleas in the forest. He wants none of that if it’s not with you.

Before he can even fully comprehend just how risky it is, he's voicing that one thought that keeps repeating over and over in his head. A thought that's probably been on his mind long before he even allowed himself to acknowledge it. "I love you," he whispers, the confession both heavy and relieving. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

In other circumstances, you would probably be absolutely shocked by that revelation. You'd stand in front of him without knowing what to say, trying to figure out if those words actually came out of his mouth or if you're just going insane. Or maybe you'd act like you did earlier when he asked about your parents, trying to trick your insecure mind and distrustful heart to believe he's not being serious– that what you have isn't serious at all.

But it's different when you're underneath him and he's claiming your body in the most excruciatingly good way, because you're deprived of all your rationality. You can't think, you can't be scared or doubt everything like you tend to do. You're stripped of almost everything, except from your most basic and natural instincts.

So, in a moment like this, it's so easy to admit the inevitable truth you seem to be running away from when you’re actually able to overthink. "I love you," you repeat, and it's so simple. So right.

He’s over the moon when he hears you say that, already wanting to hear it again and again and again because it sounds absolutely heavenly when those three little words come out of your mouth. He didn't know how much he needed to hear them until now.

You manage to distract him, however, when your moans come out more desperately than ever before, feeling the way you clench around him like crazy. "Corio..." you manage to cry out again, the vulnerability and exhaustion in your voice sending shivers down his spine.

It's a mystery to him if you wanted to say something else aside from his name, because as soon as it leaves your mouth you’re moaning louder than ever before, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm that overtakes your whole being. Arms and legs wrapped around him, forehead resting on his shoulder, a few tears escaping your eyes due to how much you’re feeling right now.

With him, it always feels amazing, but oh does it feel even better now that you know he loves you.

Your orgasm was all he needed to be driven over the edge, his arm underneath you tightening its grip on you while the other barely provides support to his body so he doesn't crush you under his weight. "Yes, yes…" he moans, his face against your neck, the only things in his mind being the feeling of your orgasm and how badly he wants to fill you up now. "Oh, fuck, baby..." he practically whimpers those words out, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

He finally comes undone, shooting his load deep inside you as a few more whimpers escape his mouth, his peak hitting him harder than ever before. It's almost like the more instances he gets to be like this, giving you exactly what you deserve, making love to you, the better it feels. Makes him come back for more every time, crave you in a way he's never experienced before. 

His movements in and out of you slow down considerably, but he refuses to stop just yet. His hips continue to meet yours even after he's fully empty, all of his cum already coating your inner walls, but making sure to fuck every drop into you before he allows himself to fully slide out.

Panting heavily, he moves his head back enough to look at you, admiring your face of pure bliss after he tried his very best to give you everything he had in him to make you feel good. One arm stays wrapped around your body, using his available hand to brush your sweaty hair away from your face. "My beautiful girl," he compliments you in a breathless whisper, looking deeply into your eyes with immense adoration and possessiveness.

He just needed to have you like this. Alone, all to himself, making those cute little sounds that drive him insane, filled with his cum. Yes, he's a very patient person, but he can't control himself when it comes to you. Surely you understand, after what you’ve experienced together tonight and the confession that slipped from his lips, why he needed to get the hell out of that crowded pub. He's completely in love with you, how is he supposed to act like he doesn’t?

You're even more exhausted than him, barely able to keep your eyes open as you give him a soft smile when you hear the way he's complimenting you. He gently holds your face with one of his hands and you lean into his touch almost immediately. Leaning closer, he kisses you once again, a lot more controlled now but still as passionate as ever. Silently appreciating the way you handled the roughness of his movements, thankful that you shared such an intimate and intense moment with him, insanely happy to know you love him as much as he loves you.

He moves away from your lips, only to start kissing all over your face, muttering praises and compliments in between each of them, making you giggle as you gladly accept his affection.

Eventually, he pulls out of you and moves away from your body entirely, giving you enough space to sit up on the couch and look for your discarded panties. As you do that, he starts the process of dressing himself too, putting his boxers and pants back on.

You watch him in silence, playing with your fingers on your lap as you wait for him to join you on the couch again. Your insecurities were getting the best of you once again, and he immediately notices it the second he’s taking a seat next to you.

He looks visibly worried, leaning closer as he grabs one of your hands, searching for your eyes because you seem to be way too lost in your own head to fully be there in that moment with him. “What is it?”

The concern is evident in his voice, making you feel almost guilty for doubting the words that he said to you earlier. How could you doubt him when he looks at you like this?

“It’s nothing, I just…” you start, sighing as you look down at your hands to watch the way he intertwined his fingers with yours, the gesture incredibly reassuring. "Did you mean it?" you ask in a low voice. "What you said earlier?"

"Of course I did." He doesn't hesitate in the slightest. "Did you?"

Surprisingly enough, you don't hesitate either. "Yes."

The way he smiles right after your answer has got to be one of the best sights you've ever seen in your entire life. It encourages you to find enough courage to express your feelings for him once again, wanting to initiate the exchange this time.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze while you look up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "I really, truly, do love you, Coriolanus," you say in the most sincere voice he's ever heard.

"I love you too," he replies, that beautiful smile from before only widening. It's impossible not to smile back at him, and he feels even happier when he notices the way you blush despite the darkness of the night. "More than I thought I could ever love anyone."

He keeps your hand in his, and you notice there's no hesitation in his voice when he decides to test his luck once again. "Come to the Capitol with me," he says, but it's not exactly an order. If anything, it sounds more like a hopeful plea.

Again, you should probably think rationally about this. Leave all your life behind to go to a place that's nothing like what you're used to? To live amongst people that are nothing like you, with a completely different lifestyle? What would the people of the Capitol even think when they know there's someone from the districts (and worse, from Twelve) pretending to be one of them? Is Corio even thinking about any of this?

And what about your friends? Or your family? What if someone needs you and you're not here? Would they understand that you're leaving them here for a guy, even when you try to explain how much you love him? And what would you do when you're at the Capitol? Are you going to study? Or try to actually pursue music? Will you ever be able to come back to District Twelve? What if you miss your home? What if you hate the Capitol?

When you look back into Corio's eyes, suddenly none of those questions matter. You try to be rational, but maybe there's nothing rational about falling in love. Maybe you just need to feel it, and right now you feel incredibly at peace. So seen, so much more like yourself, so ridiculously in love that you're happy knowing absolutely nothing is making sense.

So, you don't hesitate again when you nod. His eyes light up and a bright smile appears on his face, tightening his grip on your hand. “Yeah?” he asks, almost unable to contain his excitement, leaning closer just enough.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, because the idea of leaving everything behind to follow him to the Capitol sounds absolutely insane, but it feels so right. “Yes,” you confirm.

You feel his lips press against yours immediately after. The kiss feels like a silent closure. A way of ending the conversation, sealing the promise you’ve made to have a new life together. A way of saying goodbye to your life here in District Twelve.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Visiting Day

The heat is sweltering. The smell is nauseating.

Welcome to District Twelve.

Coriolanus stands tall though, taller than all the other men around him as one of their sergeant's drones on and on about how to behave today.

Because today is a special day.

It’s visiting day.

Coriolanus has been counting down the days until visiting day until he gets to see her again, have her in his arms.

When entering his second year at the University, he was prepared to be faced with exams, stuck-up professors, and of course, the many social events that he’d be expected to attend. What he was not prepared for was the opportunity given to a select ten male students to serve as “temporary Peacekeepers” for five months.

The idea of becoming a Peacekeeper, a public servant disgusted Coriolanus when he received the letter asking him to attend a meeting that would offer more explanation. Thankfully, Soarynn managed to persuade him to attend the meeting and that was where he learned that he wouldn’t really be seen or treated as a Peacekeeper

“You’ll have the authority of a sergeant,” one of their professors had explained. Professor Glass was the man who headed this program and further explained that they’d spend five months in one of the twelve Districts to learn and observe the Peacekeeper bases and report back their findings.

“We need to find the lapses in the system,” he had told them, “and we feel that we can count on you to do that for us considering you’re trusted Capitol citizens who love your country.”

Coriolanus hadn’t been thrilled by the idea of being stuck in one of the Districts for five months, but when the promise of extra credits and a diploma was presented, he accepted.

He just never expected to be stuck in District Twelve.

It hasn’t been bad for the most part. The food is utterly boring and dull and Coriolanus often finds himself longing for the foods he took for granted in the Capitol.

He and the other Capitol students who accepted the offer were also given special privileges as promised. Private sleeping quarters and showers, passes to go into town whenever they pleased and they could go unescorted.

For the most part, they sat inside and did paperwork. But they were able to observe how the other Peacekeepers went about their day, the tasks they performed. They had two months left and Coriolanus couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. Even in October, it was still hot and he was sick of the bugs and the smell.

“I know you all are eager for your little reunions,” the sergeant continues as he paces back and forth in front of them, “but do not forget that you are to serve as examples for the rest of the men. That means maintaining a decent composure. Decorum!”

They all slightly jump at the last word and Coriolanus looks to his left to find Festus Creed trying to hide a smile. Festus widens his eyes at Coriolanus and mouths, “decorum,” in a teasing manner.

Coriolanus grins and shakes his head. He knows they’re all as eager as he is to see their loved ones descend from the train and make their way to the base. Most of the boys are without a girlfriend and are expecting family. Coriolanus being without any living family is only expecting his girlfriend.

Soarynn.

How long has it been since she’s been in his arms? Smiled up at him when he complimented her? Laughed when he told a joke?

Too long in his opinion.

Soarynn was mildly apprehensive about this five-month program once he told her all the new details about it. They’ve never been apart like this and Coriolanus would be lying if he said that it wasn’t taking a toll on him. They wrote to each other every week but letters could only do so much.

He was just itching to see her again.

The sergeant continues listing out rules for them to follow during this visitation. “No taking your visitors off the base, I can’t afford any casualties or run-ins with the locals. Too much paperwork,” the man says with a shake of his head, “you’ll have six hours with your visitors. I expect them all to be back at the station at six o’clock sharp. No exceptions.”

Six hours seems like a joke to Coriolanus who is so used to living with his girlfriend, but he’ll take what he can get at this point. The sound of several trucks pulling up alerts all of them and they all stare at one of the buildings where several figures can be seen moving inside through the tinted windows.

Another group of Peacekeepers march past them in formation, momentarily blocking his view of the building. By the time all the men have cleared, he can see the group of visitors all surrounding one of the Commanders, Commander Hoff who seems to be giving a tour of sorts.

Coriolanus highly doubts that any of these families give a fuck about the base but they all nod their heads and do their best to look interested. It’s a stark contrast to see how the Capitol folk are dressed compared to those who are District.

Despite the heat, most men are wearing button-ups and trousers and a few are sporting suit jackets as well. All the ladies are dressed in expensive dresses and high heels, flaunting jewelry and handbags.

Coriolanus cranes his neck to try and see Soarynn but she’s out of his sight. She’s on the shorter side but he was hoping she might try to see him early on. He wonders how the train ride was for her if she was comfortable and well taken care of.

He heard a few snickers and looks over at the group of Peacekeepers who had just marched past them who are now watching the group of visitors, amused looks on their faces. All of these men are District-born scum who Coriolanus does his best to avoid. Even though they’ve sworn to defend and serve the Capitol, Coriolanus doesn’t trust them.

They’re District. Simple as that.

One look at his fellow classmates tells him that they all feel the same way about their newfound audience. They want these men as far away from their families as possible. But they can’t move, can’t do anything about it. Coriolanus will have to wait for Soarynn to reach him, to touch him, and relieve him from his post.

It’s almost torturous.

Finally, Hoff finishes his spiel about who knows what and begins leading the visitors towards them. Coriolanus straightens up, quickly glancing over his uniform to make sure he’s presentable. All ten of the University students were given different uniforms to wear during their time in Twelve to help the leaders differentiate them from the lowly Peacekeepers.

His uniform is black, the lines and edges crisp and freshly washed. His boots are freshly shined and his face has been shaved and washed for today.

He’s so ready.

Then, he sees her. Nearing the back of the group but he’d recognize that blonde head of hair anywhere. She’s walking with the Creeds, no surprise there. All their parents grew up with one another, but only so many survived the war. Still, the remaining survivors look after their friend’s children in many ways, which includes allowing a young woman to walk with them toward a much-awaited reunion.

That was probably the worst part about all of this, leaving Soarynn behind, leaving her alone.

She has her cat Petunia but it’s not the same and they both know that.

He can see that Soarynn despite the weather and location has dressed to impress. She’s wearing a white dress with a straight neckline and short sleeves. The dress cinches at the waist and slightly fans out, accentuating her figure and her legs. She has a coat on as well, perfectly matching the color of her dress despite the rather hot weather. For shoes, she’s chosen a bold route, sporting white high heels to match her white leather handbag. He remembers gifting her that bag, how excited she had been about it.

Her hair is styled to perfection in a side part with large, bouncy waves. Coriolanus believes it’s what the ladies call “a blow-out.” Whatever that means.

She’s a sight for sore eyes his girl.

He watches as families reunite with their sons, wrapping them in loving embraces. Some mothers are crying while others fuss over their sons who will always be their baby boys. The fathers are more reserved but Coriolanus can see how proud they are of their sons.

Mrs. Creed reaches Festus first and nearly breaks his ribs in a motherly embrace and Festus lets out a sound of slight discomfort as he returns his mother’s hug.

But Coriolanus and his attention are quickly drawn to the stunning young woman who is making her way to him at a rapid pace. Soarynn Nightingale is a picture of Capitol sophistication. She never follows trends and yet always seems to be ahead of them. She never gossips but knows everything about everyone. She’s a stellar student who also manages to attend all social events without fail. And despite being orphaned at a young age, she’s very well-mannered.

All those manners fly out the window as she begins to run towards him with a big smile on her face. Coriolanus can’t help but smile back and open his arms as Soarynn flies into them, letting out a squeal.

Coriolanus wraps his arms around her instantly and suddenly he feels whole again. Like a piece of him has been missing this entire time and now he has it again. He buries his nose in her neck, inhaling that sweet scent of vanilla that he now only catches whiffs of from the letters she sends to him.

He lets out a deep sigh and tightens his hold on Soarynn as if he’s never going to let her go. And he doesn’t plan on it for the next six hours.

When they finally pull away from the hug he almost melts looking into her blue-gray eyes. They’re so dazzling. She’s still smiling and looking at him as if he’s the greatest thing in the world, “Coryo,” she breathes and it’s enough for him to crash his lips onto hers.

They earn themselves a few whistles for the rather public display of affection. Their Capitol friends are used to them being a couple, always being seen together but Coriolanus is selective on the type of affection he shows to Soarynn in public.

Kisses on cheeks, holding hands, fetching her a new glass of champagne. It’s the little things that let other men know exactly who she belongs to without having to try too hard. And Soarynn is the same way when it comes to being in public. Grabbing his arm as they walk through museum halls, always staying by his side, carrying his mints in her purse.

They’re perfect together.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” he says against her lips. Soarynn sighs into the kiss and it’s enough to let him know that she returns the sentiment.

Neither of them make any attempt to break away from the kiss, after the past two and a half months, they deserve to be as touchy as they’re being right now. “Coryo,” she sighs, “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment.” His arms tighten around her waist when he hears those words, hears that she’s missed him as much as he’s missed her.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private hmm?” He suggests, thinking of his private sleeping quarters. Soarynn pulls away from the kiss and nods eagerly, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

꧁ ꧂

“It’s not much, but it’s better than sleeping in the barracks,” he tells her as he unlocks the door to his small sleeping quarters. It’s a shack to put it plainly. With a single twin bed pushed against the left wall and a dresser sitting at the foot of the bed. Against the right wall sits a desk and chair and on the back wall is a single door that leads to the most basic bathroom one can imagine.

Still, it’s private.

Soarynn doesn’t let go of his hand while he unlocks the door, nor does she comment on the barren room he sleeps in every night. A few of his friends had decorated their quarters with photos but Coriolanus hadn’t bothered. Not when he’d be leaving soon.

The bed is perfectly made with the sheets pulled tightly. There’s truly not a speck of dust in this room which is quite something compared to Festus Creed’s sleeping quarters. Coriolanus wouldn’t be surprised if Festus had a rat infestation.

“It’s very you,” Soarynn decides as they step in, closing and locking the door behind her. He grins down at her, “Is it very me because it's neat or because there’s no decorations?” One thing he’s learned about Soarynn is that she appreciates a good piece of decoration. She’s completely transformed the penthouse since she moved in and if she had her way, she’d do the same to this small room.

She gives him a sheepish smile, “Perhaps. Although I do recall sending you several photographs of Petunia that you could’ve hung up on your wall.”

Coriolanus knows he would be the laughingstock of District Twelve if he had pictures of his girlfriend’s cat on his wall. Even if Petunia is quite the cute feline. He scratches the back of his neck, “Well, I didn’t want them to get ruined, darling. The humidity could’ve caused the edges to curl.” Soarynn laughs and he knows he’s caught but she doesn’t seem upset. She stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek, “It’s your room, not mine.”

She has a point.

He looks down at his girlfriend and it seems he’s forgotten how beautiful she really is. With her tan skin with freckles and her soft pink lips. “How was the train ride?”

Soarynn shrugs, “It was fine. I mostly spoke with all the other families on the way here. It only took a bit over a day to arrive here surprisingly, so we arrived this morning which gave me some time to get ready.”

Coriolanus has no shame as he truly drinks Soarynn in. With her blonde hair perfectly curled, and her white dress with an open back which is perfect for ventilation on a hot day like today now that she's taken off her coat. For jewelry she’s gone with the golden rose pendant necklace he got her last year for their anniversary. Her fingers are adorned with several other gold rings that would cost a small fortune here in District Twelve.

Coriolanus tightens his grip on her hand as he thinks about how eager the District folk must be to get their hands on any unsuspecting Capitol citizen who’s paying a visit today. He can picture his sweet, innocent girlfriend being attacked on the way back to the station, ransacked for all her jewelry.

“Were you escorted from the train station?” He asks, and Soarynn nods, giving his hand a small squeeze, “Yes darling. We were kept perfectly safe.”

He wants to point out that nowhere is safe as long as they’re outside of the Capitol’s borders, but he doesn’t want to ruin their reunion. He glances over at his bed, speaking of…reunion.

“Did you miss me?” Soarynn rolls her eyes at his question and lets go of his hand, walking over to his small bed which is a joke compared to their bed in the Capitol, “Did I miss your big ego and your self-obsessed questions? Hmm, let me think about that,” she teases before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Coriolanus grins and watches her kick off her heels, "Did you miss me?" She counters, batting her lashes up at him like the little vixen she is. He takes his time walking over to her, enjoying how she squirms with anticipation.

It's been a long time since they've been together, too long in his opinion. And Coriolanus plans on making the most of their six hours together. He stops right in front of her and slowly sinks to his knees, watching Soarynn's eyes adopt a more sultry look. He gently takes hold of her foot, noting how each little toe has a fresh layer of white polish on them. Even her feet are perfect.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of her foot before pressing another kiss to her calve, slowly working his way up her leg. Her eyes never leave his as he so happily kneels in front of the woman he loves, the woman he would devote his entire life to if she asked him to do so.

By the time he reaches her inner thigh, they're both ridden with sexual tension and Soarynn takes hold of his golden curls and yanks his head up to meet her in a passionate kiss. He groans into the kiss, sliding a hand up her thigh and under her dress to find her panties already soaked.

Soarynn moans into the kiss and bucks into his hand when his fingers graze her folds, "Please," she gasps. Coriolanus smirks and brings his other hand to the back of her dress where the zipper is located, "Help me take this off, darling."

It's comical how fast Soarynn's fingers work to unzip the dress. She lifts her hips from the bed momentarily so he can slip it over her arms and toss it somewhere behind her. Coriolanus knows she has to leave this base looking somewhat decent. It would be terribly awkward for her to board the train looking like a disheveled mess.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees her dressed in a matching set of lingerie. A white bralette with intricate lace detailing and her panties have the same fabric and pattern, with a little bow in the front. How adorable.

Coriolanus really just wants to rip her panties in half but again, she must look presentable when going back home so he settles for carefully taking them off and swearing under his breath when he sees her cunt for the first time since he left the Capitol.

She's absolutely soaked and Coriolanus is fucking starving. He grabs both her thighs and holds them apart as far as they'll go before diving in to taste her wetness, lapping at her clit and folds. Soarynn lets out a loud moan and her hand finds his curls once again, tugging on them while she whimpers. "Oh Coryo, please, right there, yes, yes, yes, please."

He wishes he could just keep her here in his pocket, that he could have Soarynn whenever he wanted, hold her whenever he wanted. Two months seems like an eternity right now.

He sucks on her clit hard and that has Soarynn squealing, her thighs nearly crushing his head but he'd happily die buried between her legs. "I'm close," Soarynn moans. Coriolanus looks up from her cunt to see the absolute vision Soarynn Nightingale is when she feels good. Her head is thrown back, her breasts are nearly spilling out of her bralette, and her skin smells like vanilla.

"Cum for me darling," he says against her cunt, his tongue delving inside to taste more of her sweetness. Soarynn whines and grinds her cunt into him, riding his face essentially. It's so fucking erotic and nasty that Coriolanus has a big, growing problem in his pants.

One final lick on her clit sends Soarynn into an orgasmic spiral and his name tumbles out of her mouth like a prayer.

Coriolanus stays down there until all he hears are soft whimpers, and he presses one final kiss to her cunt before rising up onto his feet to find Soarynn splayed out on his bed, her blonde hair creating a crown almost above her head. He cocks his head and steps between her spread legs, watching her pant as she tries to catch her breath, "So did you miss me?"

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn's giggles against his chest make Coriolanus want to hold her tighter against him. They're curled up on his small twin bed, both naked and sweaty, she'll probably have to take a shower before they leave this room. He presses a kiss to her temple, "What's that giggle about hmm?"

Soarynn props her head on his chest, those dazzling eyes catching him off guard once again. He's truly forgotten how beautiful she is. Perhaps he's taken his sweet, adoring girlfriend for granted all these years. The past few months away from each other have done him some good in appreciating all that Soarynn is to him.

"Your feet hang off the end of the bed," she says with another giggle. Coriolanus slightly sits up to see that his feet do in fact, slightly dangle off the edge of the twin bed. He rolls his eyes and settles back down on his pillow, running a loving hand over her hair, "Well most Peacekeepers aren't as tall as I am darling," he reminds her.

Coriolanus is more than proud of his height. Six feet and two inches to be precise. He loves it even more when he's with Soarynn. Loves how he can scoop her up, reach to grab things for her, to always be taller than her even when she's in heels.

"Well you're certainly the strongest Peacekeeper," Soarynn tells him, "you've gotten so much bigger since I last saw you." Her words stroke his ego and he smiles, the training he's been doing since arriving in Twelve has helped define his physique even more, giving him larger muscles. "Thank you. It's definitely been more physical than I anticipated," he admits. It's a good thing he exercised daily when living in the Capitol.

Soarynn tilts her head the same way Petunia does when she's curious about something, "In what way?" She asks. Coriolanus bites his inner cheek as he thinks, "Well, the training is quite demanding. We have to do a certain number of pushups, pull-ups, things like that."

Soarynn shakes her head, "I'd never last in the military."

Coriolanus takes a moment to look at her small frame. Soarynn is lean, she's around five feet and six inches but she's well-toned for a girl her age. She does these workout classes with her friends and they look torturous in his opinion. There are strange machines and it seems that everyone who does these classes is as flexible as can be, including Soarynn. Overall she's very fit, more than most of her friends but she most likely would get her ass handed to her after a day of Peacekeeper training.

"Well drop down and give me twenty," he says, watching her face morph from one of amusement to one of confusion. He nods at her, "You heard me private, drop down and give me twenty."

Soarynn raises her eyebrows but humors him and slowly peels her body off of his, giving him quite the view of her naked form before she stands up, stretching her arms into the air, "Do all of you Peacekeepers train naked?" She teases, “Or is it just me?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes and does his best not to imagine having the train naked with other men. It would be traumatizing, to say the least.

“Just you,” he replies, “since you’re so special.”

Soarynn rolls her eyes and her eyes land on the desk next to her and the single drawer it possesses. Soarynn is a curious creature by nature and Coriolanus doesn’t even bother to stop her as she pulls the drawer open, letting out an excited gasp when she sees the drawer's contents.

All of the letters she’s written him.

“Oh, Coryo you kept them!”

He nods, watching as she rifles through the thick stack of letters he’s received from her. Coriolanus does his best to write her at least twice a week but it feels as if he receives a letter from her every single day, and there is almost always a picture of her and Petunia included.

“Of course I did,” he replies, “I look forward to reading them every day darling.”

It helps that Soarynn seems to have a passion for writing and can be rather lengthy and descriptive in her letters, informing him of the latest gossip and Capitol news. She’s been his little spy in a way.

“I enjoy reading yours as well,” she mumbles, flipping through several pages of her handwriting, “do the other boys get letters?”

Not as many as I do, he thinks to himself.

“They do. But mostly from their mothers.”

He’s seen the letters his friends have received and they’re all along the same lines of their mothers worrying themselves to death about their precious baby boys. “Be so careful my darling boy, blah, blah, blah.”

They usually receive letters right before dinner so they often read them out loud to each other in the mess hall and exchange any new forms of gossip they’ve found out. The boys always look forward to Soarynn’s since she actually provides useful information rather than someone’s mother talking about her lady's luncheon.

Soarynn hums and carefully places the letters back in the drawer and pulls out a few photographs that he brought with him. They’re all of her of course, Coriolanus knew he’d need something pretty to look at while being stuck in this hellhole.

Soarynn smiles softly at the photographs and traces her finger along a particular one, “Which one is that?” Coriolanus asks, sitting up in the bed. Soarynn steps over to him and sits on the edge of the bed, allowing him to hook his chin over her shoulder, “It’s the one we took after graduation.”

Coriolanus scans over the photograph and remembers that day well. It had been quite the celebration for them once they graduated from the Academy. The photograph shows the two of them in their cap and gowns, both smiling brightly at each other while holding their diplomas. “I like that one,” he finally says.

They both sit in silence for a moment, naked yet fully equal with one another. Coriolanus doesn’t know how he’s going to watch her leave, watch her walk away. How did she do it when he left?

He hadn’t been prepared to be the one being left behind this time.

“I wish you could stay forever,” he mumbles, pressing kisses to her shoulder. Soarynn sighs softly and takes his large hand in her small one, “I know. But we only have two more months. The worst of it is over.”

Coriolanus wants to point out that he is the one suffering from the worst of it but he knows that Soarynn has suffered too, just in different ways. “I’ve been terribly lonely without you,” she adds.

Coriolanus frowns against her skin, “But you have your friends, darling,” he points out. She also has her classes and events to attend. Soarynn shakes her head, “It’s not the same. You’re my family Coryo, you’re…you’re a part of me that I require to be complete.”

His heart swells at her words. They’ve both been dealt a shitty card when it comes to their families, both dead from the war leaving the two of them orphaned. But they found each other, built their own little family.

“I know darling. We’ll be together soon,” he promised, wrapping his arm around her waist, “and until then we can keep writing letters. And Petunia is family too isn’t she?” He hates to give the cat any credit but she’s a loyal pet to Soarynn.

Soarynn leans back against him and it feels so good to have her in his arms again. He knows that he should show her around the base, introduce her to people. But Coriolanus Snow is often a selfish man and for the next few hours, he wants her all to himself.

꧁ ꧂

"I think it looks attractive."

Soarynn scowls at his words as she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She's attempting to make herself look somewhat presentable before leaving to go back home to the Capitol but after a few more rounds, her hair is a mess. "I think it looks horrendous," she retorts, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

He can't stop the boyish grin from spreading across his face as he watches her fuss in the mirror. The bathroom is far too small for the two of them but they made it work and Coriolanus even managed to slip into the shower with her. "Just put it up darling, no one's going to notice." He knows how much Soarynn cares about her outward appearance and he would too but he also thinks it's somewhat adorable at how worked up she is about all of this.

Soarynn looks around the sparse bathroom which includes a toilet, a sink, and a shower, all within reaching distance of one another. "Do you miss our bathroom at home?" He doesn't hesitate to answer her question, "Yes."

Coriolanus misses a lot of things. He misses his large bathroom with its big shower. He misses his comfortable king-sized bed with the fluffy pillows and thick duvet. He misses his living room and kitchen where he used to host parties. He misses Soarynn most of all.

Soarynn smiles and shakes her head, "You were spoiled in the Capitol." She says that like it's his fault for being born in the greatest city of Panem. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He looks down at his wristwatch and frowns, she has to leave soon, very soon.

He's going to miss his girl so much. Just seeing her in his room has brightened everything up. How will he ever be able to look at his bed without picturing her in it? See his mirror without seeing her staring at her reflection?

"I'm going to miss you," he tells her, his voice slightly hoarse. Soarynn's face softens and she turns to look at him directly, "I know darling. But...but we'll be together again soon, I promise." Neither of them hesitates to pull one another into an embrace, skin on skin.

He buries his nose in her soft hair, smelling the sweet scent of vanilla for the last time. When he comes home he's going to marry this girl, he knows that much.

꧁ ꧂

They both hold onto each other's hands tightly as they approach the train station. Coriolanus managed to convince Hoff to let him escort Soarynn to the train and he's cherished every second he's had with her since they set off for town.

"It's certainly...different here," Soarynn decides. Coriolanus nods, ignoring the looks they get from the locals, "Yes it is."

Part of him wants to jump onto the train with her and go back home but then he'd be deserting his fellow Peacekeepers, and that could count for treason. He'll just have to stick it out for two more months. Sixty days. Hell on earth.

They come to a stop in front of the door Soarynn will step through, separating them once again. "I love you," Soarynn says, looking up at him. She looks so beautiful. Her dress doesn't look too wrinkled and her hair is styled in a fashionable updo, and she can always say that she put it up because of the heat if anyone questions her.

Coriolanus offers her a small smile, "I love you too darling, with all my heart and soul." Soarynn sniffles and Coriolanus pulls her in for a hug, wrapping his strong arms around her one last time, "Promise you'll keep writing to me," she whispers. He nods even though she can't see him, "Of course I will. And promise me that you'll try to enjoy yourself while I'm away. Have a little bit of fun."

Soarynn lets out a dry laugh but he hopes his wishes for her to enjoy herself come true. He doesn't want her running around the Capitol streets at night, but he also doesn't want her cooped up in the apartment either.

They stay like that until the sharp whistle of the train reminds them that one of them will be leaving soon. "I love you Soarynn, don't forget that," he tells her, cupping her face in his hands. Soarynn looks up at him and there's a hint of tears in her eyes, just like the first time they said goodbye.

"I love you too Coryo. Please take care of yourself darling, come back to me safe and sound." He presses a kiss to her lips to show her that he intends to return to her in one piece, ready to spend the rest of his life with her.

Another whistle lets them know it's now or never. Should Soarynn miss this train Coriolanus wouldn't know what to do with her, where to put her. District Twelve only gets a certain number of shipments a month and he wouldn't be able to guarantee when the next train would come.

It's time to say goodbye.

"I'll see you soon darling," he promises, giving her forehead a kiss, "and when I do, I have every intention of marrying you and making you Mrs. Snow."

The smile on Soarynn's face makes saying goodbye all worth it.

She gives him one final kiss before hopping onto the train, waving goodbye through the window as it pulls away from the station.

꧁ ꧂

One Week Later

Dear Coryo, Mrs. Snow does have a nice ring to it. Love, Soarynn

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[mads-nixon]

100th Bomber Boys: Major John 'Bucky' Egan

Here is a little bit about Major John 'Bucky' Egan (played by Callum Turner) from the prologue of Masters of the Air by Donald L. Miller (pg. 3, 7-8)!

John Egan was commander of a squadron of B-17 Flying Fortresses, one of the most fearsome killing machines in the world at that time. He was a bomber boy; destruction was his occupation. And like most other bomber crewmen, he went about his work without a quiver of conscience, convinced he was fighting for a noble cause. He also killed in order not to be killed. Egan had been flying combat missions for five months in the most dangerous air theater of the war, the "Big Leagues," the men called it; and this was his first extended leave from the fight although it hardly felt like a reprieve. That night, the German air force, the Luftwaffe, plastered the city, setting off fires all around his hotel. It was his first time under the bombs and he found it impossible to sleep, with the screaming sirens and the thundering concussions. Egan was attached to the Eighth Air Force, a bomber command formed at Savannah Army Air Base in Georgia in the month after Pearl Harbor to deliver America's first blow against the Nazi homeland. From its unpromising beginnings, it was fast becoming one of the greatest striking forces in history. Egan had arrived in England in the spring of 1943, a year after the first men and machines of the Eighth had begun occupying bases handed over to them by the RAF-the Royal Air Force-whose bombers had been hammering German cities since 1940. Each numbered Bombardment Group (BG)-his was the 100th-was made up of four squadrons of eight to twelve four-engine bombers, called "heavies," and occupied its own air station, either in East Anglia or the Midlands, directly north of London, around the town of Bedford.

pg. 7-8

As commander of the Hundredth's 418th Squadron, Johnny Egan flew with his men on all the tough missions. When his boys went into danger, he wanted to face it with them. "Anyone who flies operationally is crazy," Egan confided to Sgt. Saul Levitt, a radioman in his squadron who was later injured in a base accident and transferred to the staff of Yank magazine, an army publication. "And then," says Levitt, "he proceeded to be crazy and fly operationally. And no milk runs..." When his "boy-men," as Egan called them, went down in flaming planes, he wrote home to their wives and mothers. "These were not file letters," Levitt remembered. "It was the Major's idea they should be written in long-hand to indicate a personal touch, and there are no copies of these letters. He never said anything much about that. The letters were between him and the families involved." Major Egan was short and skinny as a stick, barely 140 pounds, with thick black hair, combed into a pompadour, black eyes, and a pencil-thin mustache. His trademarks were a white fleece-lined flying jacket and an idiomatic manner of speaking, a street-wise style borrowed from writer Damon Runyon. At twenty-seven, he was one of the "ancients" of the outfit, but "I can out-drink any of you children,'" he would tease the fresh-faced members of his squadron. On nights that he wasn't scheduled to fly the next day, he would jump into a jeep and head for his "local," where he'd gather at the bar with a gang of Irish laborers and sing ballads until the taps ran dry or the tired publican tossed them out."

In Master's of the Air, Major John Egan is sometimes called, "Bucky," "Honest John," and "Johnny." The men of his squadrons loved his leadership style, which was leading by example, as seen in the excerpt above.

John Archer, a long-time British friend of the 100th & its veterans, described Egan in his story, One Man and His Dog:

"The Major was a lean, dark young man with a wisp of moustache. He was 27, but looked older. He could turn on the charm and turn it off whenever he liked. It’s the kind of thing one experiences in foreman of construction gangs and traffic managers at airports, in jobs where contact and participation with the men is the prime factor." Major Egan was involved in the case of “Meatball vs the Pullet” a few days before he went down on a raid over Germany. Now Meatball was a half-grown husky dog which the crew of the B-17 brought over from Labrador on their way to Thorpe Abbotts during the summer of 1943. It seemed that Meatball was a bad dog, and all of a sudden turned into a chicken killer. And when did he decide to become a chicken killer? At a time when the personnel were involved in the toughest flying missions the group had yet undertaken. Deep raids as far as Danzig against desperate opposition. And in this tense atmosphere Meatball got playful one morning and mangled a chicken dead. The nearby farmer went bustling up to the orderly room to see the Major. Major Egan was sitting in with his pilots having an informal briefing with the men about new tactics in aerial combat. It was the afternoon following a raid on Emden, October 3, 1943. The farmer from down the road described “a light brown dog” that had killed a pullet. “Light brown. That’s Meatball, all right,” said the Major. “And you say he got a pullet?” asked the Major sympathetically. “Well, a pullet is pretty important, isn’t it?” “It is,” said the farmer, calming down by this time. Where did you ever hear of a Major who knew anything about pullets, and what is more, who would talk about loss sympathetically in the middle of a grim military operation? Clearly the Major was now pulling out the charm act. He could, of course, have turned the whole matter of Meatball, pullet and payment over to the Adjutant. But the affair seemed right down the Major’s alley. All the new crews who had just arrived at Thorpe Abbotts were by that time listening with amazement. “That pullet, did she look like a layer?” asked the Major. You could see by his face that he was rather tired, after all, it was only an hour or so since the raid was over. “She did, Sir, for a fact,” said the farmer.

“Well, what would you say she’s worth?” asked the Major. “Twenty bob,” said the farmer. “All right,” said the Major. “I think that’s a pretty reasonable sum for a good pullet, don’t you?” he inquired looking around at the crews who flew the big bombers. They looked at him quite dumbfounded, not quite figuring it out, and wondering who was pulling whose leg. And the Major was aware he had everyone right there in front of him. He was the actor and the rest were the audience. The farmer had departed by this time, very pleased, and the Major was rocking back and forth on his chair and looking around. And from the subject of the Germans using rockets and guns, the conversation was not on pullets. One of the young officers piped up and remarked, “A pullet, isn’t that some kind of… a rooster… like…” The Major glared at him and the officer’s face grew red. By now the class was sitting quite quietly. “A pullet,” said the Major patiently, “is a half-grown female chicken which lays a small egg with a very small yolk.” And he showed them just how big with his fingers. “Then,” continued the Major, “the machinery inside the pullet goes to work and all of a sudden – one fine day it lays an egg twice as big as the usual and it is no longer a pullet.” The briefing closed at that point. A few days later, Major Egan said goodbye for the last time to Meatball before climbing into his B-17. On October 10th, during a raid on Munster, the Major became a guest of the German forces, spending the rest of the war in a prison camp.

There was a certain pub in Dickleburgh that missed Major Egan. Sometimes he drove down in a jeep and sang songs in the bar with the locals and Irish laborers. With the affair of Meatball and the pullet, and the grim task of flying missions, Major Egan rounds out into a real example of an American who once walked the lonely lanes at Thorpe Abbotts. Egan served as Air Exec for the 100th, as Commander of the 418th Squadron, and on the Munster raid flew as Command Pilot on John Brady’s lead crew. After being shot down, all but one of Brady’s crew survived as POWs. (you can find more about this story here)

Egan was best friends with fellow 100th Bomb Group squadron commander, Maj. Gale "Buck" Cleven, whom he went to flight school with back in the States. The pair were roommates back in training, and little did they know they'd be roommates once again when they became German POWs in October of 1943. Buck after getting shot down over Bremen, and Egan in a retaliatory raid to get back at the Germans after they shot down his friend.

Egan was leaving for his first leave to London from Thorpe-Abbotts on October 8th when Buck Cleven and the rest of the 13th Combat Wing took off for Bremen. The next morning over breakfast, Egan saw the London Times headline: Eighth Air Force Loses 30 Fortresses Over Bremen," and sprang out of his chair to a phone. Due to wartime security, he had to speak in code.

Masters of the Air, pg. 10:

"How did the game go," he asked. Cleven had gone down swinging, he was told. Silence. Pulling himself together, Egan asked, "Does the team have a game scheduled for tomorrow?" "Yes," came the reply. "I want to pitch." He was back at Thorpe Abbotts that afternoon in time to "sweat out" a long mission the group flew to Marienburg, a combat strike led by the Hundredth's Commander, Col. Neil B. "Chick" Harding, a former West Point football hero. As soon as the squadrons returned, Egan got Harding's permission to lead the Hundredth's formation on the next day's mission.

This mission was set for Münster, just southwest of Bremen where Buck was shot down. Egan flew with Captain John D. Brady on the M’lle Zig Zig to Münster, and the heavy, along with all other planes but Royal Flush (Rosenthal's replacement B-17) in the 100th went down over the target. The crew of the M'lle Zig Zig bailed, parachuting through the flack-filled air. Hambone Hamilton was among the 'Zig's crew, and suffered multiple wounds from shrapnel. When found by Germans, he was taken to the hospital and stayed there recovering for a good while.

Egan, unlike the rest of the 'Zig's crew, was able to evade capture a few days before finally being taken prisoner. The aviators were first sent to Dulag Luft, the Luftwaffe's POW transit center. Egan and the other officers were kept separate from their men in cold and flea-infested solitary cells. Egan and Cleven were just a few cells apart, but neither knew the other was there. After a few weeks, Cleven and the men who were brought in with him were sent to Stalag Luft III, another POW camp just outside the town of Sagan, some 300 miles from their previous location. They were transported by train cars used for livestock, and they reported that "the smell of manure was overwhelming (Miller, 2007, pg. 23)." The trip took them three days. Three days after Cleven got to Stalag Luft III, Egan and his men arrived.

Masters of the Air, pg. 23:

Cleven watched them file into a neighboring stockade. Spotting Johnny Egan, he called out to him, "What the hell took you so long?" "Well, that's what you get for being sentimental," Egan shouted back.

Both Egan and Cleven remained POWs until the end of the war. Cleven, however, managed to escape on a march in 1945. The pair remained good friends until John's death from a sudden heart attack in 1961. Egan served as Buck's best man in his wedding when he married his sweetheart Marge in 1945 once they returned home.

John married his own sweetheart, Lt Josephine "Doty" Pitz (WASP) in late 1945. They had two beautiful daughters together.

tag list: @lena-basilone @luckynumber4

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

[frostedlemonwriter]

A Re-Introduction to Writeblr

My name is Eric, and I'm a bit of a writer. Pansexual and in the past I identified as bisexual. I came out in 2002, but I never really brought it up either. Not until I found LiveJournal some years later. Now I'm proud of who and what I am. I've been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. It runs in the family since some members of my father's family had Manic Depression, an old term for it. I try my best but often fail, and I apologize for when I do.

Okay with all that out of the way, as I mentioned I am a bit of a writer. My first story was a play I wrote in the fourth grade. At least the first story I can recall with more than just vague memories. Followed by sporadic writing over the years until about 2008/2009 when I started writing fanfic on a consistent basis. I will not mention the fandom here, though.

Well I have several horror stories I am writing. A cyberpunk story on hold. A fantasy-western I really need to finish up one day. Several historical fiction stories--one of them a rivals-to-lovers trope. Among some others. I write a lot of varying genres and settings.

If you are so kind donate to my ko-fi.

Hey guess what? I got an AO3 account now under afrostedlemonwriter!

Stories under the cut

STORIES

Cara and the Will-o'-the-Wisp

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Cara Quin, a twelve-year-old precocious girl. As curious as a kitten, everything captures her fascination at one point or another. Her workaholic mother, who spends more time with her laptop than paying attention to Cara, along with her father, a illustrator and cartoonist, both work from home but never seem present. Thanks to her father's dreams and goals, the family moved to Mount Desert Island, Maine. In an old manor owned by the far-too-weird Clarke family, whose daughter Rowan becomes Cara's best friend, and within the attic lived an eccentric man Jakub Kaczmarek.

Then one night a little light and a little shadow make themselves known to her.

The Last of the Orc--Eithne's Faith

Chapter One

After her tribe was destroyed by the Norse at the beginning of the Viking Age. Eithne seeks a way to stop the tide of the vikings and the Christians that threaten to change her way of life. With the help of an old druid, she heard about a legendary weapon hidden deep in a forest at the foot of a mountain.

By Axe & Arrow: The Saga of Teagen

Chapter One

Taking place a few years before the beginning of the Viking Age, there within the clan of Hrafnung was an adoptive princess. Though, like the Jarl's twin daughters, was more a warrior than anything else. To fulfill her destiny, foretold by the muses, Teagen will have to navigate turbulent political waters, deadly battles that rained with blood, and a romance that threatened to end her life quicker than anything else. Though, such is the life of myths and legends.

Tag: #axe&arrow

[takethistoyourstardust]

chosen one

a musing on riku’s status as the chosen one (aka i wrote this in an absolute fervor last night please be niceys)

—

you were five when the man handed you the big key. you barely remember what he said, let alone what he looked like. he seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”.

you were fifteen when a somewhat familiar looking man ripped you away from your friends. he forced you to become a puppet to your own darkness. he seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”.

you were fifteen when you hid your eyes to try and embrace the darkness. your best friend’s body forced you to embrace your darkness. he seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”.

you were sixteen when your best friend fell to his knees and sobbed. he was just happy you were alive, even if you looked almost unrecognizable. he seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”.

you were sixteen when you dove into your best friend’s dreams to keep him from forcibly becoming a puppet to his darkness. you were branded with the symbol of his protector. they all seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”.

you were seventeen when you came to escort the blonde girl to the island. you were escorting her on behalf of the replica of you she created two years ago. she seemed to think you were meant to be the “chosen one”

you’re eighteen now. your best friend has been stolen away to a world beyond reality. you are the chosen one.

your best friend was four when the pretty woman told him to protect you if you ever strayed too far. you both saved her from the darkness twelve years later. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend was fourteen when he saved you from the darkness. you were on the other side of the door and he promised to find you. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend was fifteen when he finally found you again. he fought alongside you and was ready to stay in the darkness with you. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend was fifteen when he took the exam with you. his darkness was potent enough to be manipulated into near eternal slumber. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend was sixteen when he disappeared. he gave up literally everything to save everyone and destroy the man who lead you to darkness to begin with. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend is seventeen now. he’s trapped in a world of fiction. he was never the chosen one.

you’re eighteen now. you’re the chosen one.

your best friend is seventeen. he was never the chosen one.

your best friend is still out there. you’re willing to do almost anything to find him again. you say goodbye to your friend before chasing his heart to this unknown reality.

for the first time since you started this journey, you feel like the chosen one. you finally feel like you’re getting to choose this. and you’re making your best friend your mission.

your chosen one.

you’re choosing sora.