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acupoftaewithsomesuga · 9 months ago

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"𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙" • 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙬𝙖 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙠

stalker!Seonghwa x fem!reader (dark romance/horror)

summary• the heavy deadlines are no joke and you are constantly packed with work. You stay after work to catch up on some files when you come across Seonghwa. After your interaction that day your mind is filled with him and only him. Little did you know that his mind is filled with you and so is the scrapbook that lays next to his bed.

warnings• angst, stalking, mental manipulation, crying, breakdown, fear, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, pet names, stripping, praise kink, penetration, unprotected sex, filthy dirty talking, sloppy oral (fem&masc!recieving), choking/gagging, biting, spitting, slapping/spanking, cum eating, rough sex, cream pie, after care. (lmk if I forgot something!)

videos/audios to view before reading

w/c• 11.2k

a/n• I wanna start by saying that this might trigger many of you so please do not interact if any of the warnings sound like they would mentally put you in a dark space!!! Your mental health matters!!! It is officially the month of Halloween and this is the last member of the OT8 saga!!! I plan on making another one for October (hopefully). All I will say is that Demon Line is gonna bless your feed this October. I also want to thank @rems-writing, @itsnotmydejavu, and @xomakara for helping me with ideas and giving me feedback! Anyway, my inbox is always open! Happy reading!

taglist• @rems-writing @st4rhwa @sugarnspice630 @joongiesmoon @no1likevie @woohwababes @hongjoongswife1 @blackb3ll @staytiny23 @ccalyse

network• @othersideoutlawsnetwork

•masterlist•

It was another Friday evening and the automatic lights in the office shut off. You looked at the clock beside your desk and sighed, “Almost done just 20 more documents to go through.” Working in one of the most popular accounting and auditing companies in South Korea came with a lot of demands and deadlines. Today was one of those nights where you stayed many hours after your shift was done. Throughout the day you saw people funnel out of the office at 5 pm. It was now 7:00 pm and you looked up to see the sun dimming down. You looked through the large glass window and started to question your purpose.

You quickly brushed away your thoughts and got out of your rolling chair. You made your way to the breakroom and made yourself a cup of coffee. You turned on the coffee maker and tossed the old coffee down the drain. You placed the kettle back in, put a coffee pod into the machine, and pressed start. You waited patiently, thinking about random things that came to your mind. You paced the room, looking at the magnets in the fridge that people have put there over the years. You smile at the fond memories before the coffee machine beeps, indicating that it is done. You grabbed your mug and poured yourself some coffee. You didn’t put anything in it, you left it black.

You turned around and saw a shadow pass through the glass door causing you to instantly tensed up and suppress a scream. You pull back your sleeve and look at your clock, trying to rationalize who it is. “It’s okay. The janitor is still here. That’s who it is. The janitor,” you whisper to yourself in an attempt to calm yourself down. You reluctantly walk out of the door, your heart racing. You held your breath as you looked around but you saw no one. The air in the office space was still, instilling you to relax a bit.

You start to walk back to your desk when you realize that someone’s cubicle is illuminating light. You walk over thinking that someone left their computer on which was common when people would leave in a hurry. You turn the corner and see the computer on, and papers scattered on the desk. You reach out to turn off the computer after making sure the document is saved.

“You’re y/n right?” You heard a male voice say behind you. You jump causing some of your coffee to fling out of your cup and onto the floor. You turned around quickly and saw a tall man in a suit with long black hair that framed his face perfectly.

“Holy shit you scared the shit out of me,” you laughed, placing your hand on your chest. You take a few deep breaths before chuckling to yourself and looking up at him.

“Sorry for scaring you,” He says and puts the coffee cup on the desk.

“It’s okay, just don’t do that again,” you say trying to calm down your heart rate. “I see you're enjoying the coffee,” you joke pointing at the coffee cup in his hand.

“It’s not too bad,” he says before taking another sip. “You’re working late I see.”

You nod and shrug your shoulders, sighing. “Yeah, I have to get this paperwork finished. I’m almost done which is good.” You pause for a moment before speaking again. “You’re Seonghwa?” you ask squinting your eyes.

“Yes that’s me,” Seonghwa says, smiling brightly. He walks closer to you and you notice his tall and broad frame. “You didn’t recognize me huh? That’s a bit disappointing.” He chuckles softly and runs his fingers along the handle of his mug.

“I mean I have seen you around the office and our boss always has good things to say about you. I just couldn’t tell, it’s kinda dark in here,” you chuckle, admiring his beautifully sculpted face.

“I never understood why they turned off the lights when they know some of us are here late. Did you need any help with your work?” He asked before running his hands along his chair, pulling it from under the desk. You could see he was willing to help but your heart said otherwise.

“No Seonghwa it’s okay, I’m almost done anyway. I really appreciate the offer though,” You say smiling before sipping your coffee. “I should go get this done, I’ll talk to you later Seonghwa. I’ll see you around?”

“Of course, see you around,” he says as he watches you leave and go back to your cubicle. He pulls out his phone and starts typing away, a small smirk on his face.

You sit back down at your desk and start to work. You get these papers done as fast as possible trying to look over mistakes along the way. You were genuinely exhausted and you started to consider Seonghwa's offer of helping you but you pushed it aside. Your mind was filled with numbers but lingering thoughts arose about Seonghwa. You thought about how attractive he was up close. The way his slender fingers touched his cup and his chair and how good they would look touching you. You quickly brushed away your horny thoughts and got back to work. Let’s not think about dick while we are at work.

“Finally,” you said to yourself before grabbing your laptop bag and gathering all your items. You sling your bag around your shoulder and look up at Seonghwa’s cubical. His light was still on indicating that he was still working. Before you walked out of the office you glanced at Seonghwa, his hair falling onto his face as he focused on his work. He averted his eyes and smiled at you, causing you to smile back.

Seonghwa waited awhile before he turned off the light and left the office. He saw you drive off and he quickly got into his car. He followed you home, his car a couple of car lengths behind yours. He watched as you went into your duplex. You got ready for bed as usual before you laid down and drifted off to sleep from exhaustion. He watched as your lights went on and then off. He sat in his car staring at the window.

He waited until you were asleep before he got out of his car and walked toward your duplex. He quietly makes his way to your window and peers inside, seeing you sleeping peacefully. He pulls out his camera and takes a picture of you. This was a daily ritual for Seonghwa. To follow you home and bask in your beauty without you knowing. He mainly did it at night so he could watch you for hours. Just sleeping peacefully in your home.

Today was the first time you met Seonghwa. But for Seonghwa this was the thousandth time that he has seen you. He remembers the first time you walked into the office. You looked so clueless but determined to work. He liked that about you. But what he loved most was watching you smile. You did it the most when you were asleep. As he watches you sleep he thinks about what you could be dreaming about. He takes new pictures of you as you toss and turn in your sleep, enjoying the way the moon shined on you.

He continues to watch you, taking more pictures and videos. He loves the way your hair falls across your face as you sleep, the way your lips part slightly, and the soft rise and fall of your chest. He goes home before anyone notices that he has been there. He gets to his house and prints off the pictures he took of you. He opens his scrapbook and glues the pictures of you on the pages.

He sits on the edge of the bed just admiring you. He flips through the pages looking at all the pictures he has taken over time. He sighs as he thinks about how gorgeous you looked when you did the simplest of things like go to the grocery store, clean your house, cook, watch TV, and shower. He was there for most of the moments. He always liked the weekends because he could follow you around all day. Admiring your beauty.

Seonghwa’s obsession with you grew each day. He would often daydream about you during meetings, pretending to take notes but instead drawing your face over and over again. He would sometimes go to the break room just to hear your voice as you talked to your coworkers. He was obsessed with you and no one would take you away from him.

You walk around the flea market looking at the farmer's fresh produce. You picked up a few peppers and tomatoes when you looked up and saw Seonghwa. Without hesitation, you walk up to him. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before! How are you?” you speak in a cheerful tone. His heart skips a beat as he hears your voice. He quickly turns around, his eyes wandering along your frame, admiring the green cottage core dress that hugged your body. He quickly puts on a friendly smile, trying to act natural. You look at his outfit and smile. He wears a black and white striped shirt with black pants. On his feet are black loafers and around his neck is a digital camera.

“Hey, I'm good. Just browsing around. I've never been to this flea market before, so I thought I'd check it out.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to join me every Sunday. That’s if you’d like. I don’t want to force anything on you,” you smile being polite to him. Little did you know he knew that you came here every Sunday. He had countless pictures of you with your cute strawberry tote bag.

“I’d love to join you. I’ll bring coffee next time. what’s your favorite type of coffee?” Seonghwa asks, feeling giddy. He already knew your favorite type of coffee, he knew what you liked in it too.

“On days like this, I absolutely love iced coffee.”

“Iced coffee it is then.” Seonghwa pulls out his phone and pretends to make a note, but in reality, he’s typing nothing at all.

“I see you brought your camera. Do you often do photography?” you ask pointing at the camera strapped around his neck. You admire his fingers as they fidget with the lens.

“Yeah, it’s just a hobby of mine. I like capturing scenery.” Seonghwa’s eyes flicker with unsaid words. “Most of my photos are of nature,” Seonghwa says, telling only half the truth.

“Could you take a picture of me? You can add it to your gallery of nature,” you giggled, posing with your strawberry tote bag and picking vegetables and fruits. Seonghwa forces a smile before lifting his camera and taking a few shots of you. He looks at the images and smiles to himself.

“Don’t be shy let me see it!” you said giddy waddling next to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa hesitates for a moment before nodding and handing you his camera. He watches as you look through the pictures, his heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you don’t notice the countless photos he took of you before today. Seonghwa's eyes follow your every move.

You smile at the pictures he took and hand him back the camera. “Those are really good Seonghwa. Could you send those to me, please? Here I’ll give you my number,” you said reaching into your bag and pulling out a pen and paper. You write down your number and give it to him. Seonghwa takes the paper, his hands slightly shaking.

“I’ll send them to you later.” He puts the paper in his pocket, carefully folded. “Let’s keep shopping.”

Throughout the next few hours, you walk around together and pick up fresh produce. You both talk about your favorite things to do and he opens up to you about his life. You feel this connection with Seonghwa and you have no idea why. He understands you on a whole other level. It’s almost like you both have known each other for years.

“I don’t hang out with people outside of work. You’re the first one that I’ve actually been out and about with. It’s nice,” you say the autumn wind picking up causing the remaining leaves on the tree to fall.

“I don’t go out much either. You're the first person I've spent time with like this in a long time.” Seonghwa says, his breath visible in the cool air. He looks at you as the leaves fall around you. You smile as he lifts his camera and takes a picture of you. Your heart starts to swell as he looks at the picture smiling.

“Let me take a picture of you Seonghwa,” you say softly, reaching out for the camera.

He hands you the camera, his eyes never leaving yours. “Okay,” he says softly. You raise the camera and snap a picture of him. Through the lens, he looks even more handsome, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You smile from ear to ear as you look at the picture and then hand him back the camera.

“Thank you for today Seonghwa,” you look at him for a minute. “And thank you for walking me to my car,” you say taking out your keys.

“Anytime,” he trails off. He wants to ask for a hug or even a kiss, but he holds back. He doesn’t want to scare you off. “Text me when you get home, please?”

“Yeah, I will thanks, remember to send me those pictures. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“I will… See you tomorrow.” Seonghwa watches as you get in your car and drive away. He stands there, in the parking lot, until your car disappears from sight. Then he gets in his own car and drives home, his heart racing with the excitement of finally getting close to you.

You walk into work with a smile on your face. You start it as normal as usual, grabbing a coffee and going to your desk. When you get to your desk you see an iced coffee and a card next to it. You smile to yourself before opening the card. “Dinner at my place Friday night? -Seonghwa.” You chuckled to yourself before taking the iced coffee and going to Seonghwa’s cubicle. He looks up as you approach his cubicle, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Morning,” he says, his eyes darting to the coffee in your hand. “I see you found my note.” He leans back in his chair, watching you.

“Yes I did,” you grinned looking at him and then at the ground. “Dinner this Friday at your place sounds like a good plan,” you agree shyly, everting your eyes back up at him. Seonghwa's face lights up with joy.

“Really?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. He can't believe you said yes. “I'll cook! I mean, if that's okay with you,” He rambles, nervous but excited.

“Of course, that is okay with me!” you express flashing him a cute smile. You glance around before getting closer to him and leaning down to whisper in his ear. “And thank you so much for the iced coffee.” Seonghwa's face turns a light shade of pink at your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and it's driving him crazy.

“You're welcome,” he whispers back. He wishes you would stay close forever, but you pull away and he's left craving more.

“I’ll see you later Seonghwa, I have to get some work done. And now I have to be extra focused since I’ll be with you Friday night.” He nods eagerly as he watches as you walk away, his eyes glued to your figure. He turns back to his computer, a goofy grin plastered on his face. He's like a love-struck teenager, infatuated with you.

Throughout the whole week, you complete as much paperwork as possible and attentively listen to every meeting you are in. When you have small breaks you go to chat with Seonghwa. You learn about Seonghwas's photography collection and his massive collection of Legos. You learn more about his family and where he is from. You feel so comfortable with Seonghwa that you talk to him about your past and your struggles. In this little time you have known him you were head over heels for him. No man has ever understood you as he does.

It was now Thursday evening and it was late. You caught up with all your work for the week but Seonghwa on the other hand was behind. You stayed a little bit later just to get everything done so you wouldn’t have any work to do tomorrow, just meetings. You get up from your cubicle, the automatic lights in the building going off. You walk over to Seonghwa’s cubicle and see him typing away. He was so focused on his screen. He had his black wire glasses on which made him look extremely attractive to you. “You still working?”

Seonghwa looks up from his computer, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “I'm so behind,” He blinks a few times, his eyes tired from staring at the screen for so long. “What are you still doing here?”

“I just got done with my paperwork for the week. And I just wanted to finish it up so I didn’t have any paperwork to do on Friday,” you say, looking at the stack of reports pilled onto his desk.

“Oh,” he says softly, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his desk. “Well I still have a lot to do,” he says, looking more stressed than usual, his demeanor towards you was standoffish. He wasn't like his usual self but you tried to continue to be cheerful and optimistic.

“I can always come to help you Seonghwa. Then after we can leave and have that dinner you were talking about,” you smile but his expression doesn’t waver. You look at him for a moment trying to search for any emotion other than frustration. “Seonghwa. I know you’re irritated but just know I’m here to help you when you need me,” you express before putting your fingers under his chin, guiding his gaze to you. “Oh look at you, you’re so exhausted,” you pout, rubbing your thumb against his cheek softly. Seonghwa's expression softens and he leans into your touch, craving more of it.

“I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm just. Frustrated.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s okay, you are working hard. I see how stressed you are and I just want to make it better,” you softly say matching his gaze.

On the surface, Seonghwa looked to be stressed out about work but the truth is he was stressed because he didn’t get to see you sleeping. He didn’t get to take pictures of you because of work and it was driving him insane. Only being able to see you at work wasn’t enough. He wanted to be outside your window admiring you every single night but he couldn’t do that. He was swamped with work this week and he had to meet this deadline.

You’ve never seen someone so vulnerable till this moment. You felt bad and you didn’t know what to do. You grab onto his hand and pull him out of his rolling chair. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear. “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be stressed out like this. Will this make it somewhat better?” you say before kissing him softly causing Seonghwa's heart to skip a beat. He feels like he's in heaven, and for a moment, all his stress and frustration melt away. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, returning the kiss with a soft sigh.

"Maybe," he says, his words barely above a whisper.

“Seonghwa I really like you,” you express looking up at him.

“I like you too, a lot,” he trails off, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And not just because you’re beautiful. But because you understand me like no one else does.”

“I feel the same way,” you confess, cupping his face and bringing him in for another kiss. Seonghwa smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands wander to your back, caressing it softly. Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, happier than he's ever been.

“Tomorrow I can help you with your paperwork since I have nothing to do tomorrow. Then we can go back to your place and have our dinner,” you whisper tucking his long hair behind his ear causing Seonghwa's heart to swell from your touch.

“Okay,” he says softly, nuzzling into your hand. He's glad that you're offering to help him, but he also feels bad for imposing on your time off. “Are you sure?” He questions, causing you to look into his eyes and then press your forehead against his.

“Seonghwa I’m sure, you don’t have to do it alone,” you say caressing his arm. You feel a warmth spread through your hand as the tips of your fingers make contact with him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“Thank you,” he says softly, burying his face in your neck. You reach up and run your fingers up the back of his head and through his hair. You nod in response to his thank you before speaking, “I should go home. Don’t stay here all night okay? I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly, nuzzling his face further into your neck. “I won't, I’ll leave after I’m done with this folder. Drive safe for me okay?” he says, smoothing down your hair.

“I will be safe promise. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say before pulling away from the hug. Your hands linger on him, not wanting to let go. You kiss his cheek before turning around and waving at him with a cute pout. Seonghwa watches you walk away, his heart feeling full. He sits back down at the desk, trying to focus on the paperwork, but his mind keeps wandering back to you. He finishes up the folder and turns off his computer. He sighs and looks at a picture of you that he has of you on his phone. Admiring how gorgeous you look, smiling to himself knowing that you will be in his presence all of tomorrow.

When he gets back home he looks at the leather scrapbook, looking at pictures that he took of you in the pool during the summertime. His mind races at the idea of you possibly giving him what he has been waiting for. He grows hard as he looks at the way your boobs look in your bikini. He starts to breath heavy as he pulls his dick out and starts to stroke himself. He holds the scrapbook in one hand and his dick in the other. He moans your name until he cums all over the pictures of you. He laughs to himself when he is done knowing that your hand will be replacing his soon.

“Holy shit we did it Seonghwa,” you exclaim looking at your watch. “And it’s only 4:30 pm!” You said bouncing in the rolling chair next to his desk. It was finally the end of the day and you were both eager to get back to Seonghwa’s house to hang out and have dinner together. The week felt long but it was worth it especially since you both get to spend extra time with each other outside of work.

Seonghwa grins at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We make a great team," he says, packing up his laptop and putting on his coat. "Let's get out of here. I'm starving." He offers you his hand to help you up from the chair. You take his hand and squeeze it tightly before placing the rolling chair back where you found it.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you smile, making Seonghwa’s heart flutter. You both walk to your cars parked right next to each other. “I’ll follow you okay!” you say giving him a thumbs up. Seonghwa chuckles and then smiles before he gets into his car and starts it. You do the same, your heart pounding in your chest at the idea of finally going to his house. He pulls out of the parking lot and you follow him.

He drives carefully, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure you're still behind him. He's nervous about you coming over, wanting everything to be perfect. As he pulls into his driveway, he lets out a sigh of relief. You park your car next to his and turn off your car. You get out and walk towards his vehicle, your heels clicking against the pavement. He steps out of his car, his coat flapping in the wind. He walks over to you and takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says softly, leading you up the steps to his front door. You squeeze his hand tightly, a shit-eating grin plastered onto your face.

“Such a nice house. You should have brought me here sooner,” you express as Seonghwa takes out his keys and unlocks the door. He chuckles at your comment, opening the door and ushering you inside.

"I agree," he says, closing the door behind you. "But better late than never, right?" He hangs up his coat and helps you out of yours, hanging it up as well. “Make yourself at home.” With that you start to take off your heels at the door, your bare skin touching the hardwood floor. For a moment you admire the way the floor looks, lost in the wood grain. You suddenly look up and see Seonghwa holding up a bouquet of peonies. Your eyes grow wide for a minute before blinking rapidly.

“Seonghwa these are beautiful, you didn’t have to get me these,” you gasp reaching out for them and pouting slightly. You lean down and smell them your heart warming up and your mind swelling with memories. “How did you know I liked peonies Seonghwa?” You smile looking at him with admiration.

Seonghwa blushes slightly, averting his gaze. "I didn’t know you like peonies. They just reminded me of you and I decided to get them,” he lied, plastering a sincere smile across his face. In reality, he looked through your Facebook to find a picture of you when you were young, standing in front of peonies at your grandmother's house. He chose those because he knew you would have an emotional response to them.

“They are gorgeous Seonghwa thank you,” you express pulling him into a hug, causing him to smile. Knowing that what he did worked. He ran his fingers down your back and pulled you closer to his body. You took this as a signal to kiss him. You pressed your lips against his in a tender kiss. Seonghwa's arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against his chest as he returns the kiss, his lips moving softly against yours. After a moment, he gently pulls away, his hands still resting on your waist.

"I'm glad you like them," he says, his voice low and warm. You giggle, pressing a small peck on his cheek.

“Let’s put them in some water,” you say before pulling away and walking to his kitchen. Seonghwa watches you walk away, his eyes never leaving your figure. He loved the way that tight dress looked on you, hugging your curves in all the right places. His thoughts were cloudy, he couldn't help but think that you wore that dress on purpose. To fuck with him, to toy with his desires for you.

He follows you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watches you fill a vase with water and arrange the flowers. After putting the flowers in the vase you walk up to Seonghwa and rest your arms on his shoulders. He instinctively places his hands on your waist and you gaze into each other's eyes for a moment. Both of your bodies swaying back and forth.

“So what are we having for dinner,” you say, breaking the silence. Seonghwa grins squeezing your waist tightly.

“How does sundubu jjigae sound? I also bought some odeng yesterday to go with it,” he smiles knowing that’s your favorite dish to eat causing you to raise an eyebrow in surprise. You never told him you liked sundubu jjigae, but you just figured that it was a coincidence since it was a popular dish.

“That sounds amazing Seonghwa,” you whisper kissing him softly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his hands squeezing your waist gently.

"Great," he murmurs against your lips before pulling away. "I'll start on the sundubu jjigae. Why don't you go relax in the living room? I'll call you when dinner's ready."

You pull away and squeeze his hand, reluctantly leaving the kitchen. You wanted to help make food with him but you didn’t want to protest against it. You sit in the living room and turn on the TV, trying to occupy your mind.

As Seonghwa cooks, he hums softly to himself, stirring the ingredients together in the large pot. He glances at the clock, satisfied with how quickly things are progressing. As the jjigae begins to bubble, he turns off the heat and calls out to you.

"It's ready!" you hear Seonghwa yell from the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and make your way to the kitchen. Once you enter he’s already seated at the table with everything set out for both of you to eat. You both smile brightly as you walk over to him and sit down right next to him.

“The food looks good Seonghwa,” you compliment before pressing your lips against his cheek, your lips lingering on his skin. His face flushes slightly at the gentle kiss on his cheek, his heart skipping a beat. He picks up his spoon and begins to eat, encouraging you to do the same. As you both eat, he notices how much you enjoy the food, your eyes lighting up with each bite.

You both continue to eat, enjoying each other's company. You look at the bottle of wine and your eyes gaze at the label. “Oh wow even my favorite wine,” you chuckle holding up a bottle of white wine. You pour both of you a glass and you lift yours. “Here’s to the weekend?” Seonghwa smiles warmly and clinks his glass against yours.

"To the weekend," he echoes, taking a sip of the wine. His eyes never leave yours, admiring your beauty over the rim of his glass. As you both continue to eat and drink, the atmosphere grows more relaxed and intimate.

After you are both done eating you look at Seonghwa. At this time the tension between both of you was present. You were both alone, with no other coworkers and no cubical walls in the way. You were needy for his touch and you didn’t know what to do. Your heart was telling you to make love to him but your mind was thinking otherwise. The alcohol wasn’t helping causing you to become slightly tipsy. While he was eating you couldn’t help but look at his slender and long fingers as he held his spoon. The way they grasped onto the wine glass so elegantly. You took your wine and drank all of it in one fellow swoop. Seonghwa looked at you and awed at the way your neck was sculpted. His mind clouded with thoughts of how you would look with his dick down your throat. You looked Seonghwa in his eyes as you rubbed his thigh. Your heart was racing but you wanted him so fucking bad.

Seonghwa's eyes meet yours, his own pupils dilating as he watches you rub his thigh. He swallows hard, his voice husky as he asks, "What are you thinking about?" He places his hand over yours, intertwining their fingers as he slowly moves your hand higher up his thigh. You swallowed hard not wanting to tell him the naughty things you wish he would do to you. Instead, you switched your focus, squeezing his thigh slightly.

“What are you thinking about?” you say, your gaze lingering on his lips before shifting back to his eyes.

Leaning in close, Seonghwa's warm breath fans against your ear as he whispers, "I'm thinking about how much I want to make love to you right now." His hand on yours guides it even higher, bringing it to rest over the growing bulge in his pants. You smile and bite your lower lip to his response. You can feel your body getting hotter by the second. You rub your hand against his growing dick, feeling how long he is under your fingertips causing his breathing to hitch.

“What else Seonghwa?”

"I want to hear you moan my name as I pleasure you. I want to bury my face between your thighs and make you come apart."

“Oh Seonghwa,” you gasp, your heart rate becoming faster as you listen to what he just said.

Seonghwa's hand tightens around yours, pressing it firmly against his throbbing cock. He grinds against your palm, his eyes locked with yours. Seonghwa's hand leaves yours, and he begins to slowly unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned chest. "I want you to touch me, to explore my body," he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want you to know what it feels like to be with me." You move your hands up to his chest and rub softly. You start to kiss his neck, humming slightly as you feel his pulse against your lips. Seonghwa leans his head to the side to give you better access, he lets out a soft moan at your gentle kisses.

“I’d love to explore you Seonghwa,” you whisper against his neck.

"Please, touch me everywhere," he begs softly, his body trembling slightly under your hands. He reaches up to caress your thigh, gently tracing patterns on your skin. "Please," he begs softly, "Please let me take you to the bedroom. I need you."

“Yes please,” you say causing both of you to get up from your chairs. Seonghwa then sweeps you off your feet and carries you to his bedroom. Once you reach the room he lets you down and starts to kiss you passionately.

Seonghwa's kisses are urgent and passionate, his hands roaming your body as he walks you backward towards the bed. He breaks the kiss only to speak against your lips, "I want to touch every inch of you." As you kiss him passionately, he slowly begins to undress you. His hands unzip your dress and push it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck and collarbone, his hands caressing your curves.

You let out a few gasps at his eager kissing causing you to press your thighs together. You reach out and start to unbutton the rest of his shirt. You tugged at his sleeves which signaled him to take off his shirt completely. You run your hands down his chest and to his abs as he desperately kisses your neck. The room fills with your needy whimpers and you trail your fingers down to his belt, unbuckling it quickly. His hands move up to cup your boobs, squeezing them gently. He hums against your neck, biting softly as he feels your fingers unbutton and unzip his pants. You push them down, letting them hit the ground. You run your fingers against his shaft causing him to moan against your skin before he presses his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

His hands roam your body as he tries to remove the rest of your clothing. He gently squeezes your boobs before he breaks the kiss to tug your bra off, discarding it on the floor. He curls his long slender fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs, and steps out of his pants. He kisses your jaw and neck before lifting you and placing you on the edge of his bed. He takes a minute to worship your body, placing kisses down your neck to your hardened peeks. He kisses your nipples softly causing you to let out a needful whine.

“Seonghwa I’m so wet,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together to suppress the overwhelming throbbing. Seonghwa's eyes look down, his hands reaching to nudge your thighs apart. He drops to his knees in front of you, his face hovering over your dripping core. He inhales deeply, his nose buried in your pussy, before licking you from bottom to top in one long stroke.

“Fuuuck,” you breathe out, a long desperate moan escaping your lips as you feel his long tongue run circles against your clit. You grip onto his sheets and look down, your eyes meeting. He was looking up at you from between your thighs, his tongue continuing its slow licking.

"You taste so good, my love," he murmurs, his eyes locked with yours. He slips two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards as his tongue returns to lavish attention on your swollen bud. You moan his name, trembling slightly as he pleases you. Your head spiraled at the sight of him. You were so sensitive, not being with someone for a long time progressed this pleasure. Seonghwa increases his pace, his fingers pumping into you as his mouth suctions onto your core. He watches as your face contorts with pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Look at me," he demands, his voice muffled against your flesh. Your eyes slowly open, as you move your hand behind his head. You start to softly grind against his fingers and face, moaning in ecstasy as he meets your gaze.

“J-just like that Seonghwa,” you whimper trying to catch your breath. He hums against your core, his fingers beckoning inside of you as his mouth seals around your throbbing nub. He maintains eye contact as you tighten around his fingers, your breathing hitching as your face scrunches up with pleasure.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you breathe, watching how he sucks on your swollen clit. Seonghwa doesn't stop, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony. The room fills with slurping sounds and your desperate needy moans. You can feel your walls starting to tremble around his fingers as he sucks harder on your clit. He knows you're close, so he adds a third finger, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside of you. You let out an eager broken moan, throwing your head back and grasping his hair tighter. He removed his fingers, replacing his fingers with his long tongue. You felt his tongue delve deep into your pussy making your back arch, causing Seonghwa to moan against your core. You whimper his name and press his head down further, wanting to feel him lick your walls further. Your pussy clenches around his invading tongue as he caresses your walls. His nose was gliding against your throbbing clit, eager to be sucked again. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he devours you.

He removes his tongue out of your pussy and rubs his fingers along your sensitive bud. He spits on your pussy before slurping it back up and lapping his tongue along your clit again. A long guttural moan escapes your lips as he starts to suck again. Seonghwa's hands tighten on your thighs as he buries his face in your soaked core, his tongue lashing against your swollen bud. He can hear your ragged breaths and desperate moans, egging him on as you buck against his face.

“I’m going to cum don’t stop,” you moan feeling your core tighten. Seonghwa's response is muffled against your flesh as he redoubles his efforts, sucking harder and faster on your sensitive clit. He feels your fingers tighten in his hair and your thighs clamp around his head as you reach the peak of your pleasure.

You let go of his hair and grasp tightly onto the sheets. Your eyes roll back and the loud moan of his name fills the room as you cum. Your core tightens and your pussy starts to tremble. You quickly start to close your thighs around Seonghwa’s head but he pushes them open. Pressing your knees against your chest forcefully. He keeps sucking on your clit causing your body to shake involuntarily. You moan his name repeatedly like a mantra as you watch him continue to suckle and lap at your sensitive clit, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. He can feel your juices flooding his mouth and chin as your body convulses.

Your body goes limp as he pulls away, your juices dripping down his chin as he rubs your thigh. Your legs tremble rapidly as you can still feel yourself coming. He gets up off his knees and watches how your body reacts to what he has done to you causing him to smile. You let out a long groan before looking up at him. You sit up and bask in the beauty of his wet face. You suddenly open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Without even having to ask Seonghwa spits in your mouth before kissing you passionately. You moan against his lips at the fact that he knew exactly what you wanted, swallowing a combination of both of you.

Seonghwa deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as you swallow. He grins against your lips, finding your eagerness endearing. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, pulling away slightly to nuzzle your nose. "Want more?"

“Is that even a question,” you state hungrily running your hands down his abs to his shaft. You rub him through his boxers wanting his dick down your throat. Seonghwa's grin widens at your eager response, his fingers rubbing your wrist.

"Greedy," he murmurs, "On your knees," he commands softly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey and side down to the ground, looking up at him in awe. You curl your fingers around his boxers and pull them down. His dick slaps against your face, his precum dripping on your skin. You are in shock at how huge he is, wrapping your hand around him. You start to slowly stroke him, looking at his veins. His breathing grows heavy, and his abs flex with each intake. He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding your head forward. "Open your mouth," he orders, his voice low.

You look up at him as you open your mouth, a smile playing on your lips as you glide his tip onto your tongue. Seonghwa lets out an array of curses before he reaches the bedside table and opens the drawer. You swirl your tongue around his tip, licking all of the precum off and humming at the taste of him. He reaches into the drawer and grabs his digital camera. He waves it around in his hand, his lips turning into a smirk. You remove your mouth and nod your head.

“Add them to your nature collection,” you say before wrapping your mouth around his head and sucking gently. Seonghwa chuckles darkly as he aims the camera at your face, capturing the moment you take his dick back into your mouth. He starts snapping photos, his other hand still tangled in your hair.

"So pretty," he cooed, watching you through the camera lens.

You start to move your head down further onto his dick, looking up at him as he snaps pictures of you. You grab onto his base slowly moving your head back and forth, trying your best to take down his long cock. He groans as he feels your mouth enveloping his shaft. He continues to take pictures, immortalizing the sight of you servicing him.

"That's it, take it deep," he encourages, his voice strained with pleasure. "I want to see those pretty lips stretched around me."

Your eyes roll back and you moan against him in response to his filthy words. This fuels you to go deeper, gagging slightly at the feeling of his tip touching your uvula. You force down more until you feel him hit the back of your throat. He groans as he watches his dick disappear in your mouth and for a second he feels like he is going to instantly cum.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, you see Seonghwa's hand tremble, causing the camera to shake. He quickly steadies it, determined to capture every moment. "Just like that y/n," he manages to say between ragged breaths. "Look at me while you take me." He wants to see your eyes watering, wants to see the intensity of your expression as you work to please him. You continue to keep a steady pace, his dick sliding down your throat. You moan desperately as you feel how perfectly he fits in your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him, sucking eagerly.

Seonghwa's face is contorted in sheer bliss as he watches you bob your head up and down. The sound of the shutter clicking rapidly fills the room, documenting the moment you're gagging on his thick length. You moan against him, your tongue gliding against his shaft as you rock your head back and forth.

"You look so innocent, but you're taking me so well," he groans as saliva starts to trail down your mouth and to your chin. The sloppy interaction causes you to reach down and play with your clit.

"That’s right, touch yourself for me," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you get off while you worship my cock with that pretty mouth."

You whimper as you feel Seonghwa’s hand press against the back of your head, his dick shoving deep down your throat. Your mouth is now touching your hand that was wrapped around the base of his cock. Your fingers move faster onto your clit as you start to gag around him. All you wanted to do was please him, your hunger was overwhelming and you couldn’t stop. Seonghwa's hips buck forward as you remove your hand from around his base and place it on his thigh for stability. He grunts, his hand tightening on the camera as he records the sight of you pleasure-seeking while your mouth is stuffed with his dick.

"You're doing so good, baby. Choke on it," he groans, a mischievous smile painted onto his face. The room fills with the sound of you gagging as he pushes your head down further. You try to gasp for air but you can’t, his dick blocking your airways. He tilts the camera downwards, capturing the tears streaming down your puffy cheeks and the desperate way you're clawing at his thighs.

"You can't breathe with my dick lodged in your throat can you baby?" he pants, his own breath hitching as he nears the edge.

You feel his twitch inside your mouth as he gazes into your eyes. His face contorts in pleasure as he pulls your hair, removing your mouth from his dick. You start to gasp for air, your grasp on his thighs weakening. You look up at him as he throws his head back, his eyebrows scrunched, a guttural moan escaping his lips. You watch as his cum spills onto your face, coating your cheeks and your lips. You lean forward and kiss his tip as he continues to cum in short spurts causing some to drip down your chin and onto your chest.

You watch in awe as his body shutters, his orgasm subsiding. Seonghwa looks down, his eyelids heavy as he gazes onto your face glistening with his seed. His mouth turned into a grin, a mischievous chuckle vibrating in his throat. Breathing heavily, Seonghwa lowers the camera, using two fingers to scoop up the mess from your cheeks and push it past your lips. A shuttering sound could be heard again, capturing his fingers gliding against your cheeks.

"Clean it up, baby," he says softly, his voice hoarse.

You nod in agreement, swirling your tongue around his fingers as you make direct eye contact with him. He shivers as he watches you, his dick already growing hard again. You lick all of his essence from his fingers, moaning at the taste of him. Savoring the taste of your hard work like it was a reward. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth slowly, trailing spit and cum between your lips.

"You're so perfect like this, marked by me, tasting me. You've been such a good girl for me," he praises, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m your good girl Seonghwa,” you breathed, looking up at him with those innocent eyes. You shift slightly, your core dripping wet and ready to be fucked. “What are you going to do to me now?” You whisper, waiting patiently for orders.

"Lie down on the bed sweetheart," Seonghwa commands, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obey your orders and rise from your knees. You press your body against him before giving him a desperate kiss. He wraps his arms around you and trails his hands to your ass, squeezing tightly. The kiss becomes sloppy as both of your tongues dance against each other. You take a deep breath before pulling away, sucking on his bottom lip. He smirks, before biting his bottom lip.

“On the bed. Now,” he demands again causing you to turn around and do as you were told. You feel a firm slap on your ass as you crawled on top of the bed. “Good girl,” Seonghwa whispered, causing you to whimper.

He sets the camera aside and walks over to the bed, his gaze drinking in the sight of you waiting for him. You watch as he lays on top of you, positioning himself between your legs. He leans down and kisses you passionately, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his. Savoring the moment of the both of you together. You feel Seonghwa grind his body against yours, his semi-hard dick rubbing against your wet core. His hands roam over your curves possessively.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice filled with passion.

“I love you too,” you express, pressing your lips closer to his as you move your hips in unison with his.

"Let me fuck you, baby. I want to feel you completely lose it around me," he says, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin.

“Please,” you breathe, feeling your swollen bud glide against his shaft. Seonghwa groans against your neck at your pleading, holding back the urge to completely destroy you. To hear your pleading moans as he slams into your sopping-wet core. He looks back up at you and presses another greedy kiss against your lips. You were losing control as you reached down and guided his tip against your entrance.

“Fuck me Seonghwa please,” you beg causing Seonghwa to nod slowly as he gazed into your eyes. You gasp and moan in ecstasy as he slowly enters you, his thick girth stretching you wide. You claw at his side softly at the new sensation, biting your bottom lip involuntarily. He leans down and presses a searing kiss on your lips. You feel him shiver slightly as he feels you clench around him. His dick twitches inside you, trying his best to get used to how you wrap around him. He moans against your mouth, whispering sweet nothings as he buries himself into you.

"You're so warm, so tight. Only for me, right?"

“Only for you,” you moan, your head spinning as you feel his tip kiss your cervix. Seonghwa groans at your reply, never breaking eye contact. Seonghwa starts to move within you, his hips rolling in a slow, rhythmic dance. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his face contorted in a mask of pure ecstasy.

"I want to make love to you like this forever," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion.

“Forever,” you whimper, rubbing your hand on his cheek to pull him in closer. You kiss his lips, moaning against them as he thrusts into you slowly.

Seonghwa's pace quickens as he feels you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. His hands slide underneath you, gripping your bottom possessively as he continues to whisper his love for you against your lips.

“Seonghwa,” you moan out his name, throwing your head back. You can feel his dick gliding in and out of you effortlessly, your walls quivering around him.

"Look at me," he demands, his voice husky with desire. He holds your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he thrusts into you with renewed vigor. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He repeats, his eyebrows scrunching together. You whimper as you stare into his eyes, your eyelids heavy. You moan in ecstasy as you claw at his side.

“I love you,” you manage to breathe out, your heart beating out of your chest. Seonghwa then captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you feel your walls starting to flutter around him. He increases his pace, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

“Don’t stop,” you moan, pressing your forehead against his as you close your eyes to savor the feeling of him fucking you into oblivion.

"I won't baby I promise," Seonghwa groans, his jaw clenched as he powers into you. His arms tighten around you, his hands gripping you with a fierce possessiveness. The sound of Seonghwa’s eager thrust fills the room along with both of your desperate moans and groans. You feel him grip the sheets tightly beside your head, his thrust becoming out of control.

“Take that dick baby, take all of it,” he groans, slamming into you harder. You throw your head onto the mattress, your eyes rolling back as he fucks you rough. You moan Seonghwa’s name loudly, your cries bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. With every fast and rough thrust, you feel your juices leak out of your pussy and onto his sheets. You can hear how wet his dick is from the squelching noise that emanates from your core. Loud slapping from your bodies fills the room along with the loud sound of the headboard hitting aggressively against the wall.

You say his name in a long moan, your head spiraling as you feel him thrust into your g-spot repeatedly. You arch your back and he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself further into you. He leans down and captures your neck on his lips. He kisses and sucks desperately at your skin, leaving hickeys along your neck.

“Take it y/n,” he whispers against your neck as he continues to fuck you at the same rough and fast pace. Your walls clench harder around his dick and the knot in your core starts to tighten. You move your hands from his sides to his back, scratching along his skin.

"Y-you're so close, aren't you?" Seonghwa pants, his eyes locked onto yours. His hands slide down to your hips, tilting them up so that he can hit that spot that drives you wild.

“Fuck Seonghwa please,” you gasp, your legs shaking involuntarily.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he asks teasingly, his tone wavering because he's just as close to the edge as you are. He leans down to capture one of your nipples between his lips, his tongue swirling around it roughly. “Look at me when you say it,” he demands.

“I’m gonna cum, please let me cum,” you breathe out as he continues to slam into you repeatedly.

"Look at me and beg me to let you come apart," Seonghwa says in a breathless tone. His pace quickens, his hips thrusting into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

“Please!” you whine out your pussy clenching tighter against his dick. “I can’t- I can’t hold it. Baby please!” you whimper eagerly, your voice echoing through the room.

"Please what?" Seonghwa asks, his voice a low groan. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into yours. “Look at me, my love,” he demands.

“Please let me cum please,” you beg your face contorted with pleasure as you feel yourself about to release. He lets out a low groan as your walls clamp down around him.

"You can let go, sweetheart," he breathes, his pace quickening as he slams into you. “Look at me as cum,” he demands again.

You look into his eyes before your eyes roll back at the intoxicating pleasure that radiates through your body. Your core is overwhelmed with pure satisfaction and you start to feel your body release around him. You moan his name so loud that it penetrates through the walls and throughout the house. Your walls clench aggressively tight around him as your pussy quivers. You claw at his back leaving visible scratch marks. Your vision is blurred and you start to shake again. Seonghwa throws his head back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as your release milks his own from him. His body stiffens as he releases into you, his pace slowing as he drives into you deeply one last time. His body shakes as he releases into you.

“Oh my god Seonghwa,” you gasp, your body jerking involuntarily.

"Oh, y/n," Seonghwa pants, his body slumping forward as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap protectively around you, his hands caressing your back soothingly as he tries to calm your trembling body. You feel Seonghwa press soft kisses against your skin, and your body shutters lightly in his grasp before it subsides. You let out a satisfied sigh, feeling content with how everything went.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice gentle. "You were perfect today," he adds, his hands continuing to caress your back. He slowly eases out of you and lies beside you, pulling you close.

“I-I love you too,” you whispered, completely and utterly in love with the man you just had intimate sex with. You gaze into his eyes for a moment, rubbing circles on his biceps, completely effectuated with him. Seonghwa cups your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheek gently as he meets your gaze. You are both drunk off of each other, your heart swelling with unconditional love.

"My sweet, perfect love," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. He leans in, capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss, your lips move against each other slowly. Your hands roam his body softly, worshiping him and all the work he just did. You admire the way his arms flex against your grasp and the way he relaxes when you rub his side. You break from the kiss and look up at him for a moment.

“That was amazing, no one has ever made me feel that good,” you blush, recalling everything that happened between the both of you. A smirk plays on Seonghwa's lips, his hands squeezing your backside possessively.

"Good," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're mine and only mine. I promise to keep making you feel that good, forever. You deserve only the best. And every time will only get better." He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He then kisses you again, his hands roaming over your body.

You’re eyes flutter closed from his touch. You were completely exhausted from the long week and this was exactly what you needed. A nice dinner, a great conversation, a make-out session, and some good dick. You slowly felt yourself drift asleep from hearing Seonghwa’s breathing. As you closed your eyes you felt him get up from the bed, leaving a cold spot beside you. Once he came back you could feel him cleaning you up gently with a towel before he laid right back beside you. He pressed his body against yours, rubbing his hands against your thighs and tummy.

“Get some rest, my love, I’ll be here when you wake up,” you heard Seonghwa say before he pulled the covers over both of you. You smiled to yourself when you felt his lips kiss your cheek.

You suddenly wake up and look at your surroundings. The room is dark, the only thing casting light is the full moon. You feel Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around yours and you smile, caressing your hand against his skin.

You slowly get up, trying not to wake Seonghwa. The bed frame lightly creeks along with the hardwood floor as you make your way to the bathroom to use it. Your mind flashes with images of Seonghwa pleasing you and you can’t help but want more. You turn on the light and wince at the bright room before you walk over to use the bathroom. You keep thinking about the way he treats you and how loved you truly feel. For the first time in forever, you feel like you have found someone you can spend your life with. You knew that being in love with him so soon was cliche but you didn’t care. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You take a deep breath and wash your hands before walking back to his room. You look at Seonghwa’s figure as he sleeps, the gentle rising and falling of his breath. Your gaze moves to the bedside table where he placed the camera. Right next to it is a leather scrapbook that has “photos” engraved into the leatherback. You pick it up and smile, thinking about how beautiful his nature pictures must be. Your fingers glide against the strings before undoing them. You then open the book.

Your heart sinks.

The beautiful smile on your face then turns into pure fear. Your eyes grow wide as you go through the pages. Pictures of you on your second day of work, in the parking lot, at the pool, the gym, the grocery store, the flea market, the bar. Detailed notes were written under each photo and it caused your skin to crawl. You felt like you were going to have a panic attack, the way your chest was rapidly rising and falling, your breathing becoming shallow, and your heart beating out of your chest. You looked up quickly to make sure Seonghwa was still asleep. You grabbed your clothes off of the ground and frantically made your way to the living room. You struggled to put on your dress, your hands shaking.

Tears started to stream down your cheeks as the adrenaline started to kick in. You looked around the dark living room trying to find your purse and phone. You quickly walk to the kitchen and find them lying on the counter. As you grab your belongings you look down at the trash. You see a takeout container for sundubu jjigae. Everything was a lie, everything he did and said was a lie. You started to hyperventilate but you had to get the fuck out of there.

You rushed back to the living room and started to put on your heels. Many emotions were running through your mind, but you needed to put those aside until you got out of There. Your flight or fight response was high and you were completely ready to flee. But you freeze in place as you see a tall shadow walk from around the corner in your peripheral. You go numb and you don’t know what to do. Your body is in shock. You grab the nob eagerly and try to unlock the door but you can’t.

“Looks like you caught me, princess.” Tears start to flow rapidly from your eyes and you let out a broken cry.

“Seonghwa please let me go, if you truly love me please,” you beg, trying to open the door. His voice is cold, devoid of any warmth or affection. He walks closer to you, his steps slow and deliberate.

"Please what, princess?" He asks, his tone mocking. "Please let you go, so you can run away from me? So you can ruin everything we have?"

“Seonghwa, I won’t tell anyone just let me go!” you express, aggressively unlocking the lock and trying the door again. But it’s no use, the door won’t open.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. "Won't tell anyone? Oh darling, I know you better than that. You're not thinking clearly right now, are you?" He takes another step closer, looming over you. You let out a cry, pressing your body against the door. You want to get away but you can’t. You feel like your whole world is shattered. Before you could blink Seongwa cuts the distance, his tall figure looming over your body. You're small frame completely disappears as he towers over you.

“Please Seonghwa, you're scaring me” you choke out, tears streaming down your face in fear. All he can do is look at you, his expression never wavering. He stares into your soul as he watches you come apart, you just want him to show some type of empathy. The room is eerily still as he watches over you like he is observing you. For a moment you wish you could understand what was going through his mind. You think about the memories you have together and you can’t help but cry even more. How did it come to this? And how did you get yourself in this situation? You should have just left the scrapbook alone, you wouldn't have known. Now you feel these moments fading away. But you give in knowing that there isn’t an escape. He knows everything about you and he can’t let you go and for some reason, you feel like you can’t let him go either. Your heart is racing out of your chest, your fear only amplifying.

“I’m yours, Seonghwa,” you whisper, choking on your own tears. Seonghwa's face breaks into a wide, satisfied smile, his teeth bared.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice dropping to a low purr. Before you can try to run again, he grabs your throat, pinning you against the door. You let out a loud wale and instantly close your eyes, not wanting to see him like this. Your happy memories of him were fading and you didn’t want to let them go. This whole ordeal was conflicting with your heart. You wanted to be infuriated that he stalked you for months but you felt like it was meant to be. You felt like you belonged here with him like he was the only one that loved you.

"Oh, you're so loud," Seonghwa remarks, his thumb pressing against your windpipe causing you to whimper. "But don't worry, no one will hear you. I made sure of that." He leans in close, his breath hot against your face. "Now, be a good girl and open your eyes." There was a pause for a moment as you kept your eyes shut and this fuels his anger. His grip tightens around your neck and a low chuckle vibrates through his throat.

“Open your fucking eyes!!!” You instantly jump and force your eyes open as he growls in your face. You whimper in fear as you look at him. Seonghwa grins darkly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "There you are," he purrs, his voice like velvet. His free hand reaches up to caress your face, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the iron grip on your throat.

"Look at you, so pretty and scared," Seonghwa coos, his fingers tracing your features. "I love it when you're scared. It makes you so much more adorable." He leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "And I love you, princess. So much." You look at him as tears roll down your cheeks.

Just give him what he wants. You repeat in your head. It will be over soon just give him what he wants. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“I love you too.”

His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly. "That's my good girl," he praises, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your neck. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. "I’m sorry," he expresses as he releases the grasp on your neck. “Say you love me again.”

“I love you, please,” you whisper, tears still flowing down, tears soaking your dress.

"Mmm, good girl," Seonghwa murmurs approvingly. He kisses you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth. “Undress yourself.” He demands. You reach for the zipper on the back of your dress as you sniffle. You look down in shame, knowing that this is all wrong but you want to make it work. Seonghwa watches you with an intense gaze as you slowly unzip your dress. He reaches out to help, impatiently tugging the dress down your shoulders. It pools at your feet, leaving you in your bra and panties. He stands up, looking you over approvingly.

"So pretty, I’m going to remind you who you belong to."

He kisses you passionately for a moment before lifting you from your feet. You just accept the fact that you can’t run or hide and there is no point in doing so. You love him and there is nothing that can stop you from loving him.

He takes you back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. For the next few hours, all that echoed through the house was your pleading cries and moans. His groans were loud along with the headboard knocking against the wall. He was all that you had and you needed to accept the fact that he was going to forever watch over you no matter what the cost.

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desireangel · 9 months ago

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Dark Cherry [3] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! smut, angst!!!!!!, unedited, infidelity, revenge cheating, oral (m receiving), kinda slightttt dub con if you squint w/ Aegon x reader, Aemond is frustrating, so is reader tbh, slight deviation from canon? again, if you squint, soft!aemond if you also squint. But also---angry Aemond (rahhhhhh), tell me if I've missed any warnings!

Author's note: my APOLOGIES on the wait, y'all. Hopefully this scratches an itch!! it's 11PM here, which is the earliest I've ever posted a fic funnily enough. I also reallyyyyy appreciate the love on this series so far!!! Love you all. As always, please don't hesitate to comment or to interact or hmu in my inbox w/ me bc I LOVE yapping with you guys. Send in feedback or criticism (but like I'll cry if it's super mean) or some headcannons!! or even your best dad joke. Anyways, xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen was an intelligent man. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been acting as the realm’s largest imbecile.

Time and time again, Aemond had let his ego and his pride run ahead of his brain, and had failed to think of the effect that his actions had on people other than himself. Sure, he cared for those who were important to him. His sister, his mother, his grandfather, Ser Cole, Aegon (although Aemond may not have realised it) and even to some extent his wife.

He realised, perhaps too late, that you may as well be a stranger to him. And at one point, Aemond had truly believed that keeping whatever unlucky woman he was to wed at arms length would be for the best.

The first time he met you was insignificant. It was as per tradition and formality. Aemond’s interactions up until the wedding was mainly with your family, despite the efforts you made to acquaint yourself with him properly. You were much more timid then, shyer than Aemond had expected from the to-be wife of a weaponised prince. But then again, he had only assumed that a Lady like his mother would have been chosen for him; confident, cunning and strong-headed.

At the time he had begun to understand you better, Aemond had lost track of himself. A sort of descent into darkness where he went from a young prince to a man, eager to prove himself at whatever cost. Satisfied by the control he gained through fear, strength and reputation. Now that he had stopped to think about his marriage, after you had left him hard and desperate in his own bed, Aemond came to realise a few things.

You were a purity among the wickedness and politics of the Red Keep. An inherently good person and a woman of grace, kindness and compassion. He had already noticed the dwindling of those traits brought on by your new life, confined to the walls of a fortress that was littered with deceit, distrust and gore. Aemond was a far darker entity than you–he had accepted this fact after the first true conversation you shared.

Corrupting you was both tempting and terrifying. Aemond had always been loveless–deprived of the affection he craved and deserved but also clueless about how to give that affection. And while he wished he could learn how to right himself and how to quell the carelessness of his temperament and the destruction that was left in its wake, Aemond didn’t know how to.

Perhaps it would come naturally. He was a lot more open to that notion now, despite the fact that most of him was convinced he was incapable of such change.

Aemond regretted–something he didn’t feel often–how he had pushed you away. Even if he had not intended to.

Because now, he was starting to see you as you were. A woman who had far more of an influence over his emotions than he realised–a woman who he had begun to crave the affections of in such an intensity that it only served to scare him away from you. At one stage, you had been another stranger among the walls of his home bound to him in nothing but title but, at some point throughout this ridiculous game that he had stupidly encouraged, Aemond had started to see you as his wife.

The whore that he had let into his bed was not actually a whore. It was a woman Aemond had known–a witch whom he had shared the pleasures of his body with before the two of you had wed. Alys was always eager for him and once, he would have returned it with his own enthusiasm. Not anymore. She was simply an easier option. A whore would never sully the sanctity of his chambers. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had been honest and told you that Alys was not from the Street of Silk.

To anyone who came asking, including you, Aemond would first admit to taking a whore into his bed than a lowly witch.

He cursed himself for letting his honour fall so short that this is what it took for him to wake up. For him to have tainted his loyalty to you, to have let a woman whom he could barely get it up for shatter the confines of his marriage, for him to have been left unwound with a hard cock, his hand and only the scent of you on his thigh to release the tension that was driving him mad.

Aemond wished he hadn’t been so short sighted. He would subject himself to whatever punishment he deserved should it be the burn of a whip against his back or the sickening ache of starvation if you were to demand it.

All of a sudden, in the days that had passed since your encounter on his bed, Aemond found himself looking for you throughout his day. He hoped you’d cross each other in the halls, cursed the world for keeping him too busy to spend an afternoon with you in the gardens, sworn at the war that was raging for binding him to his duties and keeping you apart.

So at the first opportunity he had to take time for himself and for the first time in your short marriage, Aemond had called upon you to join him for afternoon tea.You stared at the young servant who had been sent to retrieve you, half wondering if you had heard the boy incorrectly. Had he called you simply one moon ago, you would have dropped everything you were doing to meet your husband for tea with a grin and a skip in your step at the prospect of finally spending time with him on his own accord.

But now? It both excited you and infuriated you.

You gave the boy a soft smile, holding your reserve together when his face dropped at your refusal. “You may tell my husband that I am otherwise attended to for my tea.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had important plans for the afternoon with the other Targaryen son.

The servant stood still for a moment. “Yes, my Lady.”

“The rest of my afternoon is already engaged with the King,” you purposefully added, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement beginning to simmer in your belly. “Tell him I will take tea with him another time.”

You were walking away from your chambers before the servant had turned to leave. A part of you felt bad for him. Anyone would be wary of delivering rejection to a prince. It felt as if you were sending him to his death in a way, knowing that the seemingly innocent excuse was balancing on a wire that was already frayed. If the young servant had known of your sly plan for revenge, he would have spoiled his breeches.

There was a chance Aemond would catch on straight away. There was a chance that he would take a little longer.

Either way, so long as he caught on, everything would unfold in your favor.

Aegon had been waiting for you, a mischievous smile on his lips at the sight of you eagerly rushing towards him. He was an immature and distracted King, and he was definitely not without his flaws, but he had never been bad to you. Sometimes, you even appreciated Aegon’s efforts to involve you in conversation or to pull a smile out of you when you had clearly been distressed. Nonetheless, he was still an infuriating cad and you had often considered giving in to violent urges at the way he treated Helaena.

Helaena.

A stab of guilt in your gut at the thought of her. Sure, she had confided in you on numerous occasions and you knew she felt little care for Aegon’s outwards ventures with women but you knew she was saddened by the state of her marriage. And here you were, as wretched as the whore that Aemond had bedded. It was no different; you were doing the same thing as her. Only it wasn’t your job; you weren’t doing it for the money.

The satisfaction of bringing Aemond down to the same level he had brought you to was all the motivation you needed. It would be treading a thin line but it would be worth it.

“I had wondered how long it would take you to find yourself in my chambers, Princess,” Aegon’s voice held that boyish shrill he had never grown out of. The way he had stepped aside to let you pass, eyes holding yours through his lashes as he dipped his head with a grin. “For a cup of tea, of course.”

Comparing Aegon’s chambers to Aemond’s was instinctual. It was brighter here, messier and there was an unkempt feel to the furniture despite the servant’s having kept things relatively put together. A King’s chambers, it was; grand and large and adorned with all sorts of artistry. Aemond’s chambers had held a darker tone; presumably because Aemond was sensitive to light on his blind eye and somehow even the glow of light from the lamps were deeper and warmer.

You liked Aemond’s chambers better.

“It has been overdue, Your Grace,” you weren’t sure of that. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon. I wager a King such as yourself is no short of duties to tend to.”

Aegon scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine as he watched you take a seat at the small settee from the corner of his eye. “My family seems to be taking care of my duties on my behalf. I am a king in nought but title, you see.”

There was nothing you could say at his unbridled honesty. Aegon was different to most of the people who presided here in that way. He cared little to hide behind a facade of false indifference and stoicism.

He fell to the cushion beside you, close enough so you could smell the drink he balanced in his hand. Aegon laid back lazily, resting on his elbows and watching you as you sat pin-straight and brought the piping tea to your lips. “‘Tis not a concern. I would much prefer to have more comely company than those clueless cunts who sit on my counsel.”

“I do not doubt that, Your Grace,” you coughed lightly, growing alarmingly aware of the fact that you hadn’t thought about how this was going to play out. There was absolutely nothing that you knew about seducing a king. No less, a king with Aegon’s track record. “I beli-”

“You have been different,” He cut you off. Swiftly pushing himself up so that his face was beside yours, breath tickling the strands of your hair that had fallen loose across your cheek. Aegon’s lips were gently turned up as his eyes traced every curve of your face.

Swallowing thickly, you will yourself to meet his eye with confidence. The curiosity in his familiar violet eyes was paired with an immature lust and you wondered if he had any idea how easy it could be to use his forward thinking cock against him were you a woman of cunning ambitions. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered across your throat and towards the curve of your chest.

But something in the way that Aegon looked at you in that moment, like you were a woman of such beauty that he would risk whatever consequences were sent his way just to feel your touch sent a slither of saddened longing across your chest. Not even your husband had made you feel as if you were so captivating.

It made the knowledge of how ever long you’d be alone with him far easier to stomach.

“I do not know of what you mean, Your Grace.”

Aegon laughed, bringing his face so close to yours that the point of his nose touched against your cheek. His hand fell to rest flat just above your belly, brazenly close to where your dress tucked underneath the curve of your breasts.

“I know well when a Lady is not…” he dragged his nose across your soft skin, eyes carefully watching your reaction. “Sufficiently satisfied by her husband.”

Your breath hitched at how quickly Aegon had set his target. “If you mean to-”

“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”

Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.

Above all, you were conflicted.

“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”

“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”

You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?

It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. Aegon was not a man you desired in such a way. Merely a means to an end.

So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best.

“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”

Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”

“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out.

His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry.

In fact, and you were loathsome to even rationalise it, you felt sick at the thought of kissing him. And you felt a little drop in your gut at the thought of taking him in any kind of way but it was different. Less frightening than kissing a man you were trying so hard to convince yourself was sexy enough.

There was no man for your body’s desires aside from Aemond Targaryen-–

A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”

Aegon became excited at your use of such foul language, his hand remaining behind your neck as he straightened and guided you roughly to his hips, groaning as your hands instinctively found his thighs and moved upwards. He was painfully hard in his breeches–he had been since the first moment you looked at him with that stubborn intent and purpose.

There was a strong urge to push him away but you fought through it.

“I am sure your husband is already searching for his brazen little vixen,” Aegon watched as you breathed heavily, your chest heaving and your soft breasts pressing against the tightly laced corset of your dress. “And I am sure you wish for him to find us. Very cunning of you, I must say.”

His touch didn’t pull that feeling from you. The feeling of Aemond’s touch that had made you feel as if you were floating in lava and drowning in a molten heat that could only be quelled by him. But it made your blood rush down, growing sensitive between your thighs at the prospect of pleasuring a man who openly lusted for you and had no care for hiding it.

Aegon didn’t care for games that shattered your self-worth. He didn’t care to make you feel lesser than a whore for your curiosity of how it felt to have a man tremble from your mouth. All he wanted was to feed his appetite for you–the beautiful Lady who he had envied his brother for having to himself.

“I want to learn how to do it,” you whispered, melting into Aegon’s guidance as he hastily fiddled with the embellishments on his tunic to undo half of it and push the velvet fabric out of the way. The laced belt at his waist was discarded in seconds and you took little time to pull him out of the confines of his breeches. “So I can–so I can show him.”

There was a certain light headed nervousness that you felt when you realised that you don’t actually know how to do what you wished to. It seemed easy enough when you watched how that woman had given Aemond her mouth but now that you were faced with trying it out yourself, you worried how you would fare. Aegon triggered a natural response from you, one that you had learned was instinctual of human bodies, but you just could not find him desirable.

Momentarily, you doubted you could find it in you to disregard your aversion to the King. An aversion that suddenly became more pressing an issue than it was merely seconds ago.

Aegon must have noticed your apprehension because he guided you forward, the hardened length of his cock brushing against your face. He was breathing heavily when he spoke. “Lick it. Use your tongue first and then-fuck, that’s right-” you hesitantly followed his instructions, dragging the tip of your tongue across the sides of him, gentle flicks down to the base and then a long stripe up to the top. It was an invigorating thrill when you felt him throb against your mouth. His hips jerked when you hesitantly wrapped your lips around him.

It was slightly uncomfortable but it was not a bad feeling. Aegon tasted musky and salty, and a little bit sweaty. You took a moment to find the best way to stop your teeth from grazing against him and started to move along him, watching as he threw his head back, eyes shut tightly.

The image of your husband stayed ingrained in your head. Would Aemond taste the same? Would he feel the same on your tongue? Would his cock react to you in such a way? Would you enjoy taking him in your mouth more than whatever this was?

Shamefully or not, you let yourself pretend that Aegon was not the man standing above you. That it was Aemond instead, enjoying what you were keen to give him and praising you for being so eager to taste him.

You wished so hard that it was Aemond instead, that for a moment, when you gazed upwards it was him looking down at you with his hair falling perfectly and his eyepatch discarded. Alas, it was King Aegon, who revelled in staring at you with an amusement coupled with bliss that only felt belittling.

It did set your body into a light rush of arousal but you couldn’t stop the doubts that flooded your mind. Were you dishonouring the sanctity of your body out of spite? Were you betraying the man you almost loved just to have a jab at him? Guilty tickles grew in your ribcage but you distracted yourself from it, focusing on the way that Aegon steered your movements.

“Shit,” he hissed. Aegon’s hand found the back of your head and he adjusted your pace how he preferred. “Use your hand. What doesn’t fit–hold it.”

It became slightly easier once you found your rhythm, following each instruction that Aegon gave, drinking in the way his thigh trembled under your hand that rested against it, holding yourself stable as you hollowed your cheeks. Whatever you did, it almost came naturally and Aegon seemed to be enjoying it far more than you had expected.

But it quickly became too much–Aegon started thrusting in a way that didn’t match your movements and you gagged, eyes burning at the ache of him hitting the top of your throat. You made a noise, pulling off and gasping for air, whining as he tugged your mouth back to him and chuckling. Lungs burning, you tried to meet whatever pace Aegon was moving at in an attempt to make things more comfortable.

You reminded yourself of why you were here. The image of Aemond, head thrown back and groans slipping past his lips as he let that woman take him in his mouth. The image of Aemond, head buried between her legs, the skin on his chin glistening as he smirked at you while pleasure another woman.

The feeling when your courtly acquaintances who you once thought of as friends would slyly belittle you for failing to give your husband an heir, belittling you because word of his infidelity had reached their gossiping mouths, belittling you because the Prince who they loathed you for having was hardly yours after all. The looks that they had given you, the way that they snickered and sneered at your failures as his wife. Whispers you had overheard from Lords alike; that for such a pretty thing, you must have been dreadfully dull in the ways of pleasure if Prince Aemond of all men had resorted to whores.

That was how they all saw you; a failure. Because it was never a man’s fault but always his wife’s.

You loathe to think that Aemond harboured the same thoughts. But you would show him how mistaken he was and make him feel what you had felt so that he would regret it all.

“Fuck-” Aegon let out a drawn out groan as he pushed your head down, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could. You struggled to breath and you gagged twice but let him move you as he pleased, a satisfactory moan vibrating against his sensitive skin when he threw his head back and grumbled about spilling himself down your throat.

It was a chaotic moment.

The protest of the kingsguard through the wall and the bang of the door slamming open and you didn’t even need to turn and look. Aemond was seething, barely given the chance to put the pieces together before Aegon simultaneously groaned and laughed, the salty taste of his seed gliding past a sensitive part of your throat and pulling another gag from you as you yanked yourself away from Aegon.

Everything seemed to pause for a moment. And despite the obnoxious laughter coming from the King as he tucked himself back into his breeches, the heavy breathing of your husband and your gasps for air, everything felt silent.

Your blood ran hot at the way Aemond looked between you and Aegon. Nonetheless you met his eye, holding your chin up and wiping a bead of Aegon’s peak from your lip.

It felt good. Watching as Aemond forced himself back into his stoic resolve; only bothering to subdue the way his eye filled with the same betrayal you still felt in your gut at the thought of the whore who had been on her knees for him in an almost identical way.

Stoicism and slow, simmering, silent rage.

The air around you turned hot enough to light a candle. Aemond’s presence alone had proven to be enough to send you spiralling from the heat he encased you in whenever he was in the same room but this? You were choking, sick to your stomach and doing your best to keep your knees from buckling at his intensity.

Aemond heard Aegon ramble out some hideous insult, watched how you frowned at him and heard the echoes of his cackle. But the ringing in his ears overwhelmed it all and he had no clue what his brother had taunted him with before his fist met Aegon’s cheek with a loud crack.

He didn’t bother sparing his brother a second glance. Aemond was stood in front of you and despite his obvious anger, he pulled you up from where you were seated with a gentleness which had your mind reeling.

There was a threat hidden in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”

Perhaps you had made a mistake. The gentle fury in Aemond was terrifying and even though you knew he would never raise a hand at you the way he thoughtlessly did at Aegon, there were so many ways that a Prince could ruin you.

You felt a pit of regret now that it was over and the curtain of lust had lifted. It was easy to see how simple it is to get lost in the touch of another but it was easier to see how simple it is to avoid it.

There was satisfaction. And you felt it simultaneously with the adrenaline of being caught and the doubts of your actions. Princes and Princesses and Kings and Queens were so unaware of their hypocrisy until it was spat back into their faces.

Aemond would never in a million years have understood what he was doing to you if you had just been a submissive little wife and forgiven him. But now? Now he would know. And now things would be balanced and your desire to hurt him as he had done you has been fulfilled. And now you could see how this marriage would really stand against such tests.

And now, you may finally know whether Aemond truly did not care for you. Because if Aemond did not care for you–or even in part; love you–then he would not be hurt and he would not be feeling such betrayal.

Right now, as Aemond silently walked you towards his chambers, hands fisted, jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed ahead, you were fearful of how things would fare. As strong as you wished for your resolve to stay, Aemond’s disappointment was showing you a new weakness. And his words, you knew, if they were used as weapons then you would stand little chance against them. There was a heavy weight against your lower back where his hand sat, pushing you gently so that you glided through the halls faster.

It wasn’t a long journey back to Aemond’s quarters. But it felt like hours to the Prince, the nausea in his gut silencing him the entire way. He felt like a child again, presented with a pig instead of a dragon, the shrill laughs of his cousins and his brother striking him with flashes of humiliation.

Again and again and again, Aegon would do whatever he could to see Aemond crumble. Aegon would always take Aemond’s dignity, his honour, his crown. And now he just had to take his wife?

Aemond shut the doors to his chambers roughly and you were quick to put some distance between the two of you. There was a hollow ball of guilt and fear that caught in your throat but you couldn’t deny the elation at the mixture of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he turned to face you.

It was a reflection of how you had felt upon finding Aemond in bed with another. He would finally understand.

Only Aemond was worlds away from the damned arousal you had felt and instead it was replaced with a youthful dread, a panic that you had never seen from him before now.

There was hardly a moment for you to register the harshness of Aemond’s grip on your bicep as he pulled you toward the bowl that was kept by his bath, filled with clean water and accompanied by a tray of freshening oils. He lightly shoved you toward it as he let you go, unfazed by the sound of shock that you could not hold back.

“Wash your mouth,” he spat. Although your back was to him, you could feel how he suppressed the extent of his rage as he was ever so good at doing. “And then we will talk.”

You bit your tongue and did as he said, wincing at the ice in his words and the angry strain of his voice. There was a lot that you wanted to say, to scream at him. He was angry–and to some extent he had every right to be–but how could Aemond have expected you to be okay with something that he clearly could not take on the chin?

But the way he had held you, the tone of his voice and the harshness in his glare had you wondering if revenge was worth whatever comes next. Because, amongst the whirlwind of fear and guilt and regret was gratification and fulfilment.

The prickle of Aemond’s glare had disappeared before you were ready to dry your mouth with a towel. Quiet as ever, he had snuck away and by the time you had realised, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock had notified you of his absence.

Aemond had locked you in. When you had swiftly tried to push the doors open, unaware of where you would go and truthfully not intending to leave in the first place, it didn’t budge. And when you called for the kingsguard who stood at the other side of the door, you went unanswered aside from a curt reply that he had been ordered not to let you leave.

So you had resigned yourself to sitting atop Aemond’s bed rather than the seating arrangements scattered around the rest of the quarters. It smelled strongly of lavender, leather and Aemond’s very own scent–the one that always had you on the verge of drooling. But it only sent your nerves into overdrive, afraid that the consequences of your vengefulness, no matter how satisfying it was initially, may be too dire to recover from.

The thought of whatever Aemond had planned for Aegon was not nice. You were correct in assuming that your tryst with Aegon would only cut your husband deeper because it was Aegon. The depth of whatever issues these brothers shared was far beyond you but you had only assumed that all second born princes would be affected in such a way. And Targaryen’s were full of complexities, each believing that they were better than everyone. Even their own siblings.

Aegon had known that his younger brother would become nothing short of murderous. But he had never been a man to avoid even the slightest of temptations. Both the idea of indulging in you and inflaming the ever unresponsive Aemond were far more than slightly tempting. It would be worth the bloodied nose, the split lip and the sick that he’d spewed over his shoes when Aemond had returned to grace him with an inhumanly strong hit to his balls. Somehow, Aemond had made that act of violence seem like child’s play with the threats that he had rained down upon Aegon.

King Aegon, who simply did not know when to keep his mouth shut and had all but asked for it with the way he taunted Aemond with a sentence he never had the chance to complete. “Seeing as you cannot satisfy even your own wife-”

He wasn’t there long. Aemond’s angry mind was racing and he couldn’t think past the red of his rage. But Aemond still knew better than to stay where he would surely commit a treason he would regret.

Whatever fury Aemond had unleashed upon Aegon in the short time he was away had seemed to calm him down. He was still clearly angry when he stepped back into his quarters but there was a far less frightening storm brewing in his eye.

At his return, you had stood from the bed. The air was sucked right out of the room when Aemond stood right in front of you, so close that you could count the creases in the leather of his eyepatch. There was a tense silence in which he stared at you, waiting for you to fold but you only held your head high and met his gaze stubbornly.

Minutes had passed before Aemond spoke. His voice was far softer than you had expected and he seemed to have settled down a bit as he dragged his knuckles across your cheek, only to grip your chin so that you could not look away from him. Aemond held you tightly but not tight enough that it hurt.

“Enough of this,” It was an order, stern and unrelenting. “No more. This was a step too far-”

You scoffed in his face. “A step too far? Had you not done the same thing?”

Aemond had never in his life apologised for anything. He never felt sorry. And he never wished to admit to his mistakes. But here he was, face to face with the effects of one of the biggest mistakes he had made. If there were anything he could have done aside from apologise, he would have done it. But it was the only thing that would ease the mess of guilt that had arisen inside of him. For what he had done with the whore and for everything he hadn’t done for your marriage.

“It was a mistake. If I could undo it, I would,” I’m sorry. “This was childish of you. Vengefulness is unbecoming.”

There was a beastly disgust that Aemond felt when he thought of another man even looking at you. The image of Aegon’s cock in your mouth, his seed leaking from your lips made him want to burn the entire realm to ashes. Aemond’s eye trailed along your jaw, to your neck and then down past your stomach. Did Aegon touch you where only he was to touch you?

Fuck treason. Aemond would feed Aegon to Vhagar if he had indulged in your body.

“It is more than vengeance. You would not have understood what I felt. How I suffered because of you and your whore,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable. The lump in your throat and the tears that blurred your vision forced you to pull out of Aemond’s grip and turn your back to him. “You promised me you would never do that. You dishonoured me. You insulted me. You hurt me–Aemond, do you have any idea the things that they say about me?”

Aemond frowned and you could not see how he reached for you, only to drop his hand back to his side. “I–”

“That I am a failure. That I am-that I am so repulsive and so dull that you cannot even lay with me to produce an heir,” you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. “And I saw what she was doing to you, what you were doing to her. I could never even have imagined the existence of such an act that had given you so much pleasure-”

“There was no true pleasure with her.” Aemond mumbled. Pathetically.

Pathetic was exactly the word. Aemond may have been good with a sword, in a fight, with his dragon and when strategizing wars. But he was a pathetic husband–a pathetic partner, a pathetic lover. And he had the urge to take out his good eye for being so mindless and so ignorant.

Hindsight was his worst enemy, it seemed. Because in hindsight, Aemond would have done everything differently, right from the moment you were introduced to him.

“Lie. It was clear, Aemond. They are all right, are they not?” You felt him step into you, his warm chest against your back. Leather and lavender and him. “I have failed. My womb is still empty. The last time you visited my bed was moons ago. I know you do not love me, my Prince, but I have love for you. Men are not the only ones who need intimacies of the body–I needed that and you have never given me anything. Yet you gave it to her. I wished to hurt you as you had hurt me.”

There were no words that Aemond could find. So he settled for shaking his head and watching you as you sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, staring down at your hands on your lap. You were so wrong in your perception of him but he couldn’t find the words to explain that. But Aemond decided in that moment that he would show you, one way or another. He hesitated before sitting beside you.

You couldn’t meet his eye if you tried. It was as if your body was telling you to stop talking, that these thoughts were too painful to share, feelings too abstract and tender to put into words.

“It is wretched, I know–to have turned to Aegon,” you felt him tense beside you and against your better judgement, you placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to give him some comfort. “I wished to hurt you but I also wished to learn. I thought maybe if I knew how to-how to do things that would make you feel good so that maybe you would feel for me as I have for you. Aegon said he could show me. It is ridiculous, I understand that now.”

Aemond took your hand in his, the heat of your skin against his was fierce for such an insignificant action. He hated that it was easier for you to turn to Aegon than it was to turn to him. “I could have shown you. I can show you so much more. If only we had been honest with each other from the beginning.”

“I thought you do not want me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. It would be less painful to drive his own dagger through his heart. “I crave for you, my love. I was just too stubborn to admit it and too afraid of what it means. And I did not know how to show you how badly I burn for you.”

The sight of tears had never fazed him until they were yours. Aemond was not particularly pious, he prayed simply because his mother had raised him to pray, but he would be on his knees every hour of every day if it meant that he could take these feelings away from you. If it meant that he could take it all back and start over.

“I am sorry. No more of this,” you said. “No more seeking out the touch of anyone else in place of each other.”

“I will be a better husband,” Aemond stated, as if he were telling it to himself as much as he was to you. “I will try for our marriage and our duty. And for you.”

“Your promises haven’t proven to mean much to me. All is not forgiven just because we have talked,” You sighed, but gave him a weak smile, turning to look at him.

He gazed down at you with determination, his jaw tight and his eye glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was no attempt to push you away when you reached up to take off the leather that covered his bad eye. You wanted to see him as he was, even if only for a moment.

Gods, he was beautiful.

As you stood you forced your smile to turn lighthearted as you teased him through your heavy hearts. “Jealousy motivates you well, my Prince. I shall remember that.”

Aemond hummed, mostly serious as his hands tightly grabbed your hips. “Do not jest like that. I will not be able to look at Aegon without dreaming of murdering him for defiling you how only I should. I cannot afford such treasonous fantasies.”

There was a silent threat in his words. Nonetheless, you leaned down to his ear, gasping gently at the harshness of his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. Just his hands on your body alone set you alight.

“Perhaps my husband should leave the door to his bedchambers open tonight,” you let out a small laugh at the way that he pulled you to straddle his lap so suddenly, gently nipping the skin of his earlobe. You weren’t quite done messing with him.

“Is that so?” He smiled and you thought that it made him all the more beautiful.

“Yes,” you smirked, when he groaned frustratedly at your next words, softly throwing you onto the bed. “I may wish to show you exactly what I have learned.”

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frownyalfred · 18 days ago

Note

How do you deal with not-so-nice AO3 comments? I’m an admittedly slow updater- I posted a new chapter to one of my fics last night after a break of about four months, and got left a comment that informed me that “making us wait this long for a new chapter is kinda rude ngl.” It’s the first I’ve gotten a comment like this and I’m feeling pretty down about it- how do you handle people who aren’t so pleasant in your inbox?

Oh man anon I am SO sorry. You don’t deserve that comment at all, and I know the gut punch of emotion that kind of feedback creates. Please try not to take it to heart at all or dwell on it.

You have a lot of options in how you respond/address this comment. Every author is different. The best advice I can give you is to do something that makes you respect yourself and your work in the long run.

That being said. Rude behavior like this should be addressed directly if at all. If you choose to respond, you need to assert as early on as possible that 1) this isn’t appropriate and 2) you won’t be accepting feedback like this at all moving forward.

My immediate response in my head? “Leaving this comment was kind of rude, ngl.” That might not be in your wheelhouse and that’s okay. They might know it’s rude and they won’t care.

Don’t justify yourself to them. Don’t explain or beg forgiveness. Stand your ground in your head and move forward knowing you’re awesome and put yourself out there.

I’m proud of you, this person is shitty, and if you ever want to direct them over here, I will happily outline, in great detail, how four month gaps between chapters can be filled by, you know, going outside and touching grass.

#asks #anon #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #writing

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rafeovermorals · 3 months ago

Text

CELIBACY - RAFE CAMERON

it’s been too long, celibacy what do you want? tell it to me dropped to my knees let me break your streak, i’m begging you, please

content: inspired on the song celibacy by partynextdoor and drake. includes smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, cream pie, rafe kinda creeps on reader a bit, MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic let alone my first time posting on tumblr, please bare with me! still trying to figure out a good layout and there may be misspellings so i’m sorry. feedback is greatly appreciated!! and i’m opening my inbox to requests or questions to talk about rafe/drew/etc.

“you haven’t been fucked in how long?” sarah asked you a bit too loud, her eyes wide in shock at your confession.

you had just told her that you were going on over a year celibate. four hundred and thirty two days.. that’s if you were counting, of course.

it initially started when you and your boyfriend broke up. a drunken fight over jealousy resulted in three years down the drain. you were in no rush to find another sexual partner anytime soon because he was your first for everything. first kiss, first touch, first love. it took you a few months to go through the stages of grief but you got over him eventually, except your standards were different now. through your healing, you realized that you settled for a lot of things that you shouldn’t have.

one of those things being his performance during sex, or lack there of. it was mediocre to say the least, all about him, him, him. you tried to excuse it with the fact that you were his first too, and maybe he just didn’t know any better. but as time went on, nothing changed. he didn’t listen to your wants or needs, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your deepest desires. you were convinced that no one ever would, so you stayed celibate.

you hadn’t even kissed someone since him. you weren’t sure if you still remembered what it felt like.

“sarah!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, giving her a light smack on the arm to hush her. “talk quieter, i don’t need ward hearing anything about my sex life.” you scrunched up your nose at the thought.

“the man is ancient, he can’t hear shit.“ sarah replied nonchalantly. she looked over at her bedroom door to check that it was closed before turning back to face you. “we need to get you laid.”

you shook your head. it’s not like you hadn’t considered it, especially recently. you thought about that more than you’d like to admit, really. most nights ended with your hand between your thighs, attempting to get yourself off. you were always left unsatisfied, it was like an itch in a place you couldn’t quite reach to scratch on your own.

you had been on a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. kildare island was a small town so everyone knew each other. it was difficult, to say the least, to find someone without association to your ex. “i don’t know.. i mean, where would i even start? tinder?”

“hell no. that’s a breeding ground for creeps and losers.” she immediately dismissed. she grabbed her phone from beside her, pulling up a text thread from her boyfriend and flipping it around to show you. “there’s a party at topper’s later, you should come. maybe you’ll find someone there.”

you wanted to say no, but sarah was persistent. you knew she wouldn’t let this down anytime soon, so you agreed to appease her mind. “okay.. i’ll go.”

what you didn’t know is that the walls of tannyhill were thin, and someone was listening in on everything.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

coming here was a bad idea.

it didn’t take long for sarah to walk off to go find topper, leaving you on your own. you slipped through the crowd, finding yourself a drink but no luck with finding anyone worth your time. you quickly felt overstimulated, deciding to wander to the back of the house to find a place away from the crowd. you sat down on a couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly to pass the time.

sarah had driven the both of you there, which was definitely a mistake on your part since you knew she would stay the night with topper anyway. she probably thought this would leave you no choice but to go home with someone. you’d have to talk to her about that later.

you were fixing to send her a message that you going to walk home, calling it an early night, until a voice spoke in front of you.

“hey, sugar.”

your eyes left your phone screen, peering up to meet rafe towering over you. he was so close that you had to crane your neck to fully see him. you had always thought he was good looking, too attractive for his own good. he had on a tight-fitted, salmon colored polo paired with his go to khaki shorts, his hair swooped and parted to the side with gel. his arms were folded across his chest, biceps flexing with a sly smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you. “can i join you?”

you felt your shoulders drop in relief, thankful that it was him and not one of the other frat boys there. you and rafe weren’t close by any means, sarah made sure of that. any time he would try to talk to you while she was around, she would shut it down immediately. not that he really cared or listened to what anyone told him. he wasn’t going to let that stop him, which is why he needed to find a way to get you alone, and this opportunity had you falling right into his lap.

“rafe, hi. i was just about to leave.. actually.”

he had been watching you carefully since the moment you walked in. rafe was a calculated man like that, purposefully standing in the corner of the kitchen to keep track of you throughout the night. he saw a kid— who was way too confident— make his advances on you by offering a drink, but you declined and poured your own instead.

‘smart girl.’ rafe muttered to himself, taking a sip of his beer as you turned him down. you strutted off shortly after that, which he soon followed.

his face twisted in confusion. “so soon? you haven’t even been here an hour.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. it’s not like you could tell him why you were there in the first place. you already felt ridiculous for even considering this idea.

“just.. not really in the mood tonight.” you answered hesitantly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie, but something about rafe made you nervous. he was older than you by a few years, and you could feel it through his presence. the way he asserted himself, it made you feel small. submissive.

he nodded, his eyes taking you in as you sat there. you were wearing a little black top and a denim skirt so short that it should be illegal. you tugged down on it a bit in reaction to his gaze, the fabric not budging as it clung to your thick thighs. he noticed the apples of your cheeks turning pink at his stare.

rafe couldn’t help but smirk. you were so cute, so sweet. he liked seeing you like this— without sarah. how such a good girl like you could be so close with her was beyond him. what kind of friend was she to bring you here to get fucked by some stranger?

but he wouldn’t let that happen.

“i’ll take you to the house then. i can’t let you walk back this late.”

“no no, i’ll be fine. i-“

“that wasn’t a question.”

he reached out his hand, gesturing for you to grab it before you could protest any further. it would just be a quick ride back to tannyhill, right?

you exhaled, putting your smaller hand into his and letting him pull you off the couch. his fingers intertwined with yours as led you through the crowd, people’s eyes following as the both of you passed by. it was hard not to get attention being next to rafe cameron— girls wishing they were you and boys wishing they were him. you dropped your head hoping that no one would notice. that was doubtful.

the tension during the drive was thick. you felt his eyes on you more than the road, which had you squirming in the leather passenger seat. his car smelled like him— a mix of weed and cedarwood cologne filling your senses. you almost felt lightheaded with how nervous you were and he hadn’t even done anything.

on the other hand, rafe was loving every second of it. he had been dreaming of this moment before you were even single. his sisters pretty little best friend, always around but just barely out of his reach, was currently in the palm of his hand.

partynextdoor was playing on the radio, you could hear him humming along as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. you heard your phone ding with a text notification— from sarah.

sarah: hey i’m downstairs did you leave?

you: yeah, sorry i couldn’t find you

sarah: with who??

sarah: please don’t say brian

sarah: tell me if he’s hot at least

sarah: is his dick big?

“everything okay?” rafe broke the silence, gesturing to your leg that started to bounce.

“it’s sarah, wantin’ to know who i’m with..” you replied, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to type out a response to her.

he placed his hand on your knee, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop your moments. “just ignore her.” he said it like a suggestion, but his underlying tone told you that it wasn’t. you couldn’t help but listen to him, powering off your phone all together.

he kept his hand there, rubbing small circles with his thumb before he decided to test you, slowly going up your thigh. the warmth from his hand went straight to your core, your legs subconsciously parting just slightly at his touch.

“rafe..” you attempted to hide the shakiness in your voice. he was still driving, his eyes set forward. it took everything in him not to stop and take care of you right there— parking his car off the dirt road and bending you over in the backseat— but he held himself back. not only out of respect for you, but he wanted to do it the right way. he had been waiting to have you for years, he could handle a few more minutes.

“when’s the last time you’ve been touched like this, sweetheart?”

his fingers were now lingering between your thighs, slipping past that excuse of a skirt and brushing over your white panties. “and tell me the truth, or i stop.” he coaxed, his middle fingers pressed through the fabric, it becoming wet with your arousal. you whimpered at his touch, ashamed that you were reacting so easily to him. it was as if he already knew your body— knowing exactly where and how to you touch without even looking.

“i- i don’t know.” you breathed out. your head was fuzzy with desire, a feeling foreign to you.

“i think you do.” he thumbed your clothed clit, your head falling back against the seat in response. “i heard you and sarah talking earlier. could’ve came to me instead, y’know.” he continued to rub over your heat, just enough to tease you to the point it was nearly unbearable.

rafe sped up the rest of the way home, his patience running thin with his cock straining in his shorts. you were even more impatient, bucking your hips into his hand to feel some relief. you were beginning to make a mess on the seat and his fingers weren’t even inside of you yet.

before you knew it you were being thrown onto rafe’s bed, your legs hanging off the edge as he stood in between them.

“such a needy lil’ thing, hm?” he ditched your soaked panties on the floor, running his calloused fingertips over your slit to lather them with your slick. he parted your lips— so pretty and pink and glistening just for him. you were perfect.

he circled at your clit, applying pressure to the sensitive bud. you were pulsating beneath him as he started to rub faster, your thighs trembling. he pressed his middle finger at your entry, sinking himself in down to the knuckle.

rafe warmed up your cunt a bit longer before adding a second digit, pumping both in and out of you with determination— your soft moans spilling out like music to his ears. “god, baby, you’re drippin’ everywhere..” you whined at his words, which only made him keep going.

he curled his fingers, your gushy walls engulfing him as he hit that special spot inside of you. you could feel everything— the metal of his rings hitting against your cunt, the heat of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at it, the coil in your belly tightening.

“rafe.. i- i feel like-“

“i know baby, it’s okay. i got you.” he mumbled into your ear before he brought your lips to his, kissing you like it’s all he could do to breathe. you tasted so pure, like a ripe summer peach on his tongue— and he just wanted to swallow you whole. he continued to suck on your bottom lip until it was swollen, only pulling away to watch you.

and the look he was giving you— hungry with desire— was it took before you snapped, cumming for what felt like the first time. he held your hips in place with his other hand, holding you down to ride out your high.

you were gasping for air at this point, your bottom mascara smudged from the tears that prickled from your eyes. rafe looked wrecked as well, face pink and his once perfectly laid hair now disheveled. you didn’t know why until you sat up and saw it, the outline of his cock prominent in his shorts. your breath hitched, your doe eyes widening at the sight.

he grabbed your hand and brought it over his length, guiding you to rub it back and forth. even through the clothes you could tell he was bigger than your ex, surely. the thought alone had you pulsating.

“don’t by shy, sweetheart.”

you unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them down with his boxers to free his erect member. it hit his stomach, the tip red and leaking pre cum from being pent up for so long. he was girthy, thicker than his two fingers that you could hardly take a few minutes ago.

still, you pursued. you reached down to your sopping cunt, cupping it to lubricate your hand and bringing it to his cock. he let out a groan as you stroked him, jerking your wrist in smooth motions.

rafe was in heaven. you seemed so shy and innocent at first, he felt almost wrong for corrupting you like this— that was until you took it upon yourself to lick up the vein of his shaft, taking him into your mouth. you began to swirl your tongue, flicking it at his head to collect the dribbled cum. you went further, one hand at his base until you felt him hit the back of your throat. he rutted his hips, grabbing a fistful of your hair in a halt. if you kept going like this he wasn’t going to last.

“need to be inside you.” his voice was filled with desperation. he was panting at this point, a string of saliva following when he pulled you away. “please.”

you couldn’t finishing nodding your head before he went straight to work, pushing you flat to the bed with his weight on top of you. he ripped off your shirt, unclasping your lace bra in one smooth motion. rafe loved the feminine physique, and he was absolutely infatuated with yours. your tits were perky, full cups that sat sculpted on you just like a roman statue. your tummy was plush with a shimmery belly ring, the curves of your waist and hips drawing him in.

he brought his mouth to your breasts, lapping his tongue over one nipple as he fondled with the other. he was so eager— sucking and twisting at them like he was trying to feed. you were mewling, twisting under him at the sensation.

he slid his cock over your puffy folds. “saving this pussy for me, weren’t you?”

he slipped in raw, slowly filling you up inch by inch. he tried to go easy on you, but fuck, the way you were clenching around him it was like you were begging for more.

you were so stretched out, so full, and he still hadn’t put himself all the way in. he was thrusting into you at agonizing pace, not allowing you to adjust to his large size. you tried to scoot away, the pleasure being too much to bear, but he held you in place at the waist. he watched you engulf his dick in satisfaction— a creamy ring forming at the base.

“so fuckin’ tight— shit.” rafe moaned, squeezing his grip on the flesh of your stomach which would surly have bruises by morning. he finally bottomed out, hitting your core with a smooth trust. he was splitting you open with no mercy as his room echoed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“suckin’ me in so well, feel like a virgin. you sure you been fucked before?”

“not like this.” you barely choked out, turning your head into the sheets as he quickened his speed. your face was flushed— chin still covered in spit and brows furrowed together.

“mhmm, but this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby?” his voice was raspy, almost mocking. he was molding himself inside you, like you were made just for him— filling you perfectly as your walls took his shape. his tip skimmed your g-spot, making you cry.

he arched your hips off the bed, moving his palms down to the fat of your ass— kneading it as your pussy started to flutter around him. he could tell you were close, your bodies chest to chest as he pounded into you.

you let go, jolts running through you as you came around his length with the second orgasm coursing through you. you had your legs wrapped around him, milking him dry. he didn’t let up either, continuing to hit into you at a brutal rate.

“gonna nut inside you like you deserve.” his grunted with gritted teeth, burying himself inside of you. his movements stuttered as he reached his peak— cock twitching as he released, his cum spurting in you with thick, hot ropes. he stayed there for a moment, assuring you got every drop before finally pulling out.

he laid down next to you, heavy, ragid breaths leaving the both of you in sync.

“you won’t need to be celibate any more, sugar.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #frat rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut

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starkeyvhs · 8 hours ago

Text

unhook

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x nerd!fem!reader

SUMMARY: it’s rafe’s first sleepover with his first girlfriend – who is equally shy as him – but she needs help with unhooking her bra.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: shy rafe & reader; she/her pronouns used for reader; slightly suggestive (?) but it’s soft and fluffy 🫶

EDITH SPEAKS: we don’t just have nerd rafe now, we now have nerd reader too 🥰 I loveddddd writing the two of them, just a couple of soft and shy teenagers who like each other so much but are just so anxious 🥹 I have a cool idea on the background lore of this pairing and hopefully I’ll be able to write their full fic one day 🫶 anyways! if you enjoy reading, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💞💞 also, my inbox is open to discuss all kinds of thoughts && hcs!!! xx

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

Rafe Cameron was an expert at a lot of things: physics, maths, programming, robotics, chemistry, but there was one thing no book could ever teach him.

And it was how to act around girls.

Throughout his life, he thought keeping a safe distance from girls was best for him; relationships and everything else would come to him when the time is right.

But he definitely didn’t think that time would come this soon – in high school.

He was best known for his concentration, and how he could sit still and study for hours on end, not giving up until he was done learning what he wanted to. But this one girl, she was becoming a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if he could see her name hidden between the words of the book he was reading, tucked safely as a sweet memory of this new person who had just waltzed into his life.

And somehow, the one thing that made all of this sweeter was that the girl – you – was also just like him. Just as inexperienced, just as nervous, and, he didn’t realise it, but also just as adorable as him.

It was hard for Rafe to get his mind off someone who had so many common interests as him. You loved science and technology just as much as he did, and you both were somehow just always on the same wavelength with almost everything you talked about.

Now, fast forwarding past the awkward talking stage (well, what’s to say it sometimes still isn’t awkward), Rafe finally bagged you, yes, that’s right, Rafe Cameron got a girlfriend.

And a damn intelligent one at that.

So, after everything, he has you invited over to his place for your first ever sleepover. The nerves are even more than usual, but he’s trying his best to make this work, just for the two of you.

Starting from when you arrive till the dinner with his family, everything is super smooth. You both talk a bit, and Rafe can feel the nervousness between you two is beginning to die, to create something that’s more comforting and warm instead.

But, all the effort he puts to make everything light hearted comes crashing down when he realises nighttime is nearing closer and closer. Meaning, the time to share a bed is getting closer. He makes the offer of his own clothes for your nightwear, which he’s super happy you accept.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his own shirt as he waits for you to finish changing and freshening up in the washroom. He can feel his mind go absolute berserk, an infinite number of thoughts looping themselves in his head and playing like a broken record. He’s attempting to get his mind off these thoughts, oh he is trying so hard, but he just can’t.

Rafe nervously looks up at the clock hanging on his wall and realises a little too much time has passed since you went to the washroom. It concerns him a tiny fraction, but he attempts to relax that thought by telling himself you must genuinely take time in the washroom to freshen up.

But then he hears your voice calling out your name – oh how he loves the way his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but more on that later – and it seems as if you’re a little uneasy.

“Yeah?” He asks, and his voice automatically takes that softness that somehow only comes up when he’s talking to you. He gets up from his bed and makes his way to the closed washroom door, gently pressing an ear to it. “Everything alright?”

A long moment of silence passes and Rafe doesn’t hear anything from across the door, which almost tempts him to call out to you again, but your voice finally crosses the wood.

“I uh… I need help,” Your voice is already muffled due to the hardwood barrier between you two, but the obvious timidness in your tone makes it even more difficult for Rafe to catch your words.

“Yeah yeah, what is it, sweets?” He says softly, the nickname rolling off almost effortlessly. Whoa, where did that confidence come from? Again, a topic reserved for a much later conversation.

Another long moment of silence passes, and Rafe can now sense the anxiousness through the door, understanding that whatever it is, it’s making you feel more shy than usual.

“My, my bra hook’s stuck… I need help with it,” Somehow, your voice has gotten even quieter.

Now it’s Rafe’s turn to get quiet.

It takes time for your words, and their implication, to settle in him. His limbs feel permanently tethered to the ground below him by a strong force, and that nothing can make him budge. But he soon realises that force is entirely superficial and it’s his own nerves keeping him fixed.

Fighting the strong nerves he musters the courage to speak up again. “You, you need my help?” He asks.

“Yes please,” comes your reply and he hears a heavy exhale escaping you along with your words, as if you’re letting go of the heavy weight of having to tell him what your current situation is.

But god, Rafe doesn’t have a single clue how he’s going to react on what’s bound to happen next.

He hears you unlock the door from inside, and he wraps his fingers around the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door.

You’re standing in the center of the washroom, your back towards the door. He can see you’ve changed into his old shorts he gave you, but the t-shirt is sitting on the counter and you’re standing in just your bra. When you hear the door creak open, you turn to look over your shoulder and meet Rafe’s eyes.

The moment you see him, you shy your gaze away from him. “Uh, it’s stuck real bad…” you mumble quietly.

“Oh uh, I’ll… I’ll have a look,” Rafe mutters, moving closer to you so there’s barely any space between you two. He can feel the warmth of your back against his chest and it seems so inviting and soft.

His heart begins to thump loud in his chest, and the deep curtain of silence that envelopes you two makes it even more loud to his ears.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and lifts his hand up. He brings his fingers close to your back so that the fingertips are almost hovering over the inviting skin.

Do it, Rafe, do it. You’re here to help her, that’s it.

Subconsciously nodding to himself, Rafe lets his fingertips gently press over your back and oh my god your skin is so damn soft. The situation is making heat rush to his face, and he just knows his cheeks are tinted with a champagne pink which is very hard to miss.

He can hear the hitch in your breath the moment his fingers touch your skin, as if the small contact is spreading an electric current throughout your body. Rafe lets his fingers linger over the bra hook, and he brings his other hand up too, attempting to sort the stuck hook out.

“It’s a little stuck…” he murmurs under his breath as he has his way with the hook, but also makes sure none of his movements are too harsh that it hurts you in any way.

“That bad?” You ask meekly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder. He catches the look of sheepishness on your face, knowing how awkward you might be feeling in this situation.

“I just need a minute, yeah?” He tells you softly, and allows himself to be a little bold, letting his hand drift over your shoulder and squeeze it softly. As much as his heart is beating fast in his chest and his fingers are itching to feel the expanse of your soft flesh, he also knows he should be a little confident because that’ll help you feel a little more comfortable.

His actions do the expected, your tense shoulders relax a bit and you nod to let him continue. Rafe brings his hands back to the hook and lets out a deep breath. Okay, lets just look at this carefully. He takes a moment to inspect exactly how the hook is stuck, and then, carefully, he lets his fingers work through the stuck hook.

It takes a long moment, both him and you standing in the quiet space of the bathroom with bated breaths, but finally, Rafe pops open the hook. That is the moment when your body gets fully relaxed, and he understands how relieving it must be for you to not have a tight constraint around your chest anymore.

He can’t convince himself to bring his hands back down to his sides, his palms now fully resting on your back above your shoulder blades. You stand there, keeping a hand over the bra to keep yourself covered.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks softly, feeling a little more bold as his fingertips begin to trail over your back, tracing over the length of your spine till your tailbone and coming back up right at the nape of your neck with a touch so slow and gentle.

“Yeah…” you murmur, “thank you so much, Rafe,”

Rafe can’t help the small smile that pulls his lips at your words. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles softly into your skin, before pulling back.

He clears his throat and reluctantly gets his hands off you, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you change yeah?” He says softly and watches you nod, but this time you don’t turn to look at him. He makes his way out of the washroom and steps out, closing the door behind him and resting his head back against the hardwood.

He closes his eyes, letting out soft puffs of air through his exhales as his mind plays back the last few moments: his fingers on your skin, soaking up its velvety feel.

He doesn’t know where he got the wave of confidence from which allowed him to touch you that beautifully, but somewhere, he’s glad he got it, because now, he absolutely can’t even think of anything else besides you, your supple skin, and how he might ultimately get to feel more than just your back under his hands.

Well, this only makes him ecstatic about the impending sleepover.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybejj / @appleciderlove / @starkeyszn

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Pent Up 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It's an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'I never thought I'd be writing to someone like you, but you've shown me a different side of things. I hope that my emails give you comfort and can help you through. Even on the other side, they get me through my day. I'm always excited to read when there's a ding in my inbox.

I hope you also enjoy the little bit I could put in your commissary. If I lived closer, maybe I could bring you something homemade. At the moment, bus fare is a bit too much for my pockets.

Anyway, signing off.

Yours,

Diamond'

You add a whole line of heart emojis to the email then hit send. You giggle and click on the next. You don't have the heart to copy and paste so you add a bit of variety to the next.

This one is... Thor? That's his name. He's a funny one. Considering he's in the pen, you're surprised by that. The others are so dire; pushy too.

You hit reply on his last email. Something about a fight and apologising for not replying earlier. He says he was in solitary for a whole week. That sounds miserable. The thought is enough to scare you straight. It's why you've never done anything wrong in your whole life. Until now.

It's not really wrong. It's allowed. It's legal. You're just sending messages. If anything, it's a community service. These men don't have much more contact than each other and that's a recipe for chaos.

You won't admit that other reason aloud. That tickly feeling in your stomach. When they compliment you, when they say they missed you. You can't help but smile, even giggle sometimes. It's nice to be appreciated, even if it's all a fantasy.

You'll never meet these men. That's the fun part. You don't have to worry about any of this. Maybe that helps. Maybe you think too much when you're face-to-face. That explains why every cute guy you talk to sees past you.

'I forgive you, sweetie. It must have been so hard in there. The important thing is you replied. I got so worried! I hope that after all that, my email can bring a bit of comfort. I have to be honest, I never thought I'd be chatting with someone like you. That I could find this type of connection. Please, take care and email soon.'

Another parade of emojis follows and you send it off happily. Now you just have to wait and see who gets back to you first. If it's Ernie, you're not sure you'll respond. He's been fixated on his cell mate and his emails are getting a bit scary. That's the other great part. You can always just delete and block.

The response comes an hour later. You're sleepy and ready to pass out. You read it anyway.

'You are so kind, my queen.' You giggle. Yeah, he calls you that sometimes. If only he knew you were sitting in bed with an ice cream sandwich wrapper and your cell phone. Definitely not queenly behaviour. 'I got through it by thinking of you, of dreaming of the day when we can talk face-to-face. Wouldn't that be lovely? For all my mistakes, I think they will mean something if you and me can be together.'

You make a face. He's so cheesy. You can't help but laugh again. You're not trying to be cruel, you do empathise with his situation, you can't imagine being in prison, but like anyone else, he earned his time. There's one last light.

'If it isn't too much trouble, would you kindly send a picture so I have a face to admire in my lonelier moments? I've attached my own. Forgive me as it dates a few years back.'

You're not smiling anymore. You haven't sent any of the men pictures. They haven't offered theirs but you can look up their mug shots easily. You hate to ruin the fantasy but curiosity has you tapping the attachment.

Oh. You're surprised. He's older than you in this picture and by his own confession, is more so now. But he isn't repugnant. Anything but. Tall, blond, thick! You don't know if you've ever seen a man that size.

Even in a suit, it's obvious that his arms are bulging and his chest is ripe to burst out as the jacket button clings for dear life. The photo is cropped so that whoever he took it with is out of frame. His blue eyes sparkle above a defined smile. Has prison worn down all that?

You squirm. Guilt needles in your chest. You could close out and worry about it in the morning. You shouldn't be that sympathetic. He's still a criminal. You can say no. Easily. What's he going to do about it?

What could it hurt? If he saw your face. It's not like anyone would know. That anyone would recognise you or that he could find you anywhere else. You keep your social media anonymous. You aren't like the influencers who get attention just for being pretty.

It's that that gives you pause. You aren't anything but average. It's easier to pretend you're some pretty thing as you message these faceless men. Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe once he sees you, you won't have to worry about all that other stuff. He'll cut you off at the pass.

The thrill of it overwhelms your reluctance. It's like gambling, it could go either way.

You start a new message. More meaningly rewording of previous sentiments. Nothing new. Then you scroll through your photo roll. You take a breath and press down on a photo you think isn't half bad. It's from market day you went to with your aunt. Not exactly cutting edge but fun. She snuck in the shot as you smiled down at your gooey cinnamon roll. The impromptu snap is better than most of your posed ones.

You send and quickly lock the phone. You shove it under your pillow and swipe up the wrapper beside you. You leave it on your night stand and sink down, your insides swimming with anxiety. You're going to regret this in the morning.

🎀

'Will you call me?'

The question makes you sweat. You don't know why you feel bad. You've said no before. To him. To all of them. You draw a thick line between your secret little hobby and your real life. You shouldn't have ever sent that photo.

Despite your regret, you smile. His response was more than you could expect. The praise! You don't know that anyone ever even called you cute but he as good as wrote you a poem about your beauty. You have to remind yourself, given his circumstance, he's starved. He'd probably think your nan is sexy.

Still, you're having a hard time typing those two letter; N-O. Thor is so nice. And he asked so sweetly. But you can't do that. What if someone found out?

This whole thing is starting to feel like a big mistake, but it's so much fun. When in your life will men ever be this into you? When have they ever?

'I could call' you type without thinking. What are you doing? 'Let me know how to do that and we can set a time maybe.'

Don't hit send. Don't hit send.

Email sent.

Shit. Oh gosh. Why did you do that?

You close your laptop and leave it on your desk. You need to get ready for work. You can't be worrying about a man you'll never meet. It's all virtual, it's not real. You'll be okay.

You get yourself together and brace yourself for work. You don't really like your job. You work the counter at a tech repair shop. Independent so it's small and slow. Your boss is a bit strange too.

The only benefit is it's close and it pays a few bucks more than the alternative. You're even allowed to work on your online courses at the service desk. Really, it's perfect. You guess you're just not happy with things being boring.

You blow over the lid of your Sailor Moon travel mug and knock on the door. Jensen lets you in with a grin and stifles a yawn in his elbow. You step past him with a sheepish smile.

"If it isn't the champion of justice," he greets smugly and locks the door. You won't open for another half hour.

"Huh?" You go to the counter and slide your bag onto the shelf underneath.

"Your cup," he crosses the shop. “I am Sailor Moon, the champion of justice. In the name of the moon, I will right wrong and triumph over evil… and that means you!”

"Oh, right," you snort at his cheesiness. "You have espresso or something?"

"Red bull," he admits guiltily.

"This early?"

"Early? I never went to sleep," he comes around and goes back to typing on his glowing gaming computer. "Couldn't let my crew down."

You could roll your eyes. All he does is play Fortnite or Halo. He looks like he does too. Yet, he's in here moping after every rare stunner that walks through the door. That's why you'er there. He gets all tongue-tied with women. Well, all of them but you.

"You should join the party," he suggests.

"Well, I don't really play anymore," you shrug. "It was only for fun. My siblings... like it."

"Oh yeah, how's the family?"

"Good, I guess. They don't really call."

Your mom's too busy rebuilding her life with your step-dad. Rather, building the perfect life she never had. You sigh and open up your laptop. You grab your coffee and sip. You're tired of being forgotten.

"Jake," you say, he winces at the use of his first name, "Jensen," you glance at him, "you're a dude."

"Yeah, I am" he answers uncertainly.

"Well, you might know more than I do. You know anyone in prison? Any guys?"

"What?" He exclaims. "Where did that come from?"

"Mm... I was watching a documentary last night," you lie. "About prison or whatever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and about you know," you sway and look at your laptop. You're terrible at lying. "The women who like write to them or whatever."

"Ew, like the Ted Bundy weirdos?" He scoffs.

"Not exactly. I mean, none of them were murderers. I think," you shrug. "But... like, if you were in prison, you'd need that, right? I mean, it's just to get you through."

"I don't know. It'd be lonely, yeah, but like... what about after?" He scratches his neck. "I got a buddy who was in for a while but he's a good dude. He was only selling... stuff."

"Really?" You perk up, "he went to prison?"

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it," Jensen says. "Why are you talking about this?"

"Making conversation. I was just thinking about the show," you sign into your laptop. "Just thinking... I mean, how do you even end up there?"

"Bad things. I learned my lesson when I was sixteen. I broke into the high school on a dare and the cops put me in cuffs for two hours. They let me go once I cried... I mean, I was a kid so..."

You nod and try not to show any judgment. That sounds about right. A notification pops up in the corner as Jensen goes back to the fluttering over his keyboard. You click on the email.

'I've been granted call-time at noon. You can call the number below and request by my inmate number...'

You quickly minimize and hide behind your cup as you slurp. Shoot. You didn't think he'd be so fast. A call at noon? You can't say no. Not now that he got approved.

Well, this is the only time it's happening.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #pent up

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live-laugh-lenney · 6 months ago

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LOCKED IN | ARTHUR FREDERICK

a whole year and it's finally with you! thank you for all your patience and all your lovely messages and comments about this new chaptered fic; i'm so incredibly excited (and incredibly nervous) to share it with you and show you the project i've been working on these last twelve months. i wanted it to be absolutely perfect before you got your hands on it. feedback is always welcomed and my inbox is always open so please, please, please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts on the story. enjoy! <33

- C H A P T E R O N E -

“I’m actually terrified.”

The black car, donned with the FootAsylum logo that had been printed on the back passenger doors, rolled up the gravel driveway and stopped before a modern-looking home hidden deep in the countryside of a place she could tell was hours from home. With her phone being taken away and with nothing to keep her occupied, except picking at her nails nervously or chewing on the inside of her mouth, she couldn’t keep track of the hours she’d been sat in the car… but given the numb bum and the sickly feeling from the rumble of the car and having nothing to eat due to her nerves, she would have guessed her travel time had been, at least, two hours. Studio lights littered around to keep the grounds lit so everyone knew where they were going, the house being illuminated and almost in a spotlight to give it a real studio vibe, and it had finally set in her mind rather quickly that this was her reality for the next two weeks. The nerves that she tried to hide, swallowing back every lump in her throat and ignoring every bad thought that crossed her mind, were slowly coming back to haunt her and her knees couldn’t stop bouncing in the footwell in the back seat.

“This is terrifying.”

Once the car came to a stop at the end of the driveway, she took a moment to herself.

The driver sat in the front, plugging in a destination into his built-in sat-nav that would either be taking him home or back to a building where the producers and the directors of the show were all huddled inside, yet she couldn’t bring herself to be nosey. And as her hand came to clasp around the handle of the backdoor, she could see her hand shuddering with uncertainty. There was no chance she was backing out of this opportunity now; it was the first day and she wanted to prove to people she could do this. That she was worthy of a place in the house. Having been on the Youtube scene for just over 12 months, she never thought her first year would end in her being part of a reality show centred around those with huge followings and a name for themselves and she wanted to show how serious she was about taking any given opportunity in her grasp and enjoying every moment life had to offer her.

Once she saw who she was going to be locked into a home with for two weeks, she did some digging on just who they were, putting a face to a name and googling them in hopes to find their social media accounts. Gaining the basic information and following their Instagrams and subscribing to their Youtube channels so she could scope out everyone as to not seem so clueless once she walked into the house.

So she knew of a few of them.

It was nerve-wrackingly brand-new for her and it was something she never imagined herself doing when she posted her very first Youtube video just a short twelve months ago; being pushed into a house with nine other Youtubers who were practically strangers to her and, in that moment and before she met then, it was something she considered to be almost as bad as a worst nightmare.

The gravel rocks and the tiny stones of the pathway crunched beneath her trainers as she neared where she assumed the front door to the house was. Her eyes scanned across the wooden panelling of the front and she truly felt like an idiot, even more so because of the cameras hidden in every nook and cranny around her that would pick up her dumbfounded moments, as she tried to find a door handle or a doorbell that would somehow get her into the warmth of the house. The black bag on her shoulder which she, and the entire cast of the second season, had been asked to advertise as they walked up the entrance, kept slipping down to her elbow and eventually she gave up adjusting it and just let it swing to and fro as she questioned everything happening before her.

“How the hell do I get in? Is this a challenge or something? I feel like I’m being punked here.”

There was a gentle change in the way the wall was built and she pushed a panel to make the front door more noticeable, revealing the entrance hallway of the place that was going to be her new home for the next fortnight. Light strips coloured with neon green lighting her way, stuck to the walls and almost guided her in the right direction of where everyone else seemed to have congregated, fitting the whole aesthetic and colour theme of how the show was advertised and promoted on the outside world. Lots of monochrome, blacks and whites, with a burst of colour that surrounded her. The heat of the inside immediately hit her as she stepped foot into the hallway and let the door close behind her with a whoosh, shutting by itself once it hit the frame of the doorway. The lights were bright, as opposed to the scenery of the sun setting upon her arrival, and she could hear the chaos of everyone already enjoying themselves and introducing themselves further to each other - and she secretly prayed that she wasn’t the last one to enter the house.

She took the chance to have a quiet glance around at where she was before she made her way into the centre of the house, cautious as she looked around to make sure no one was hiding and ready to jump out and make her jump, because that was the one thing she absolutely hated and she definitely would have held a grudge, mentally planning the next move in an unproposed prank war between herself and the housemates.

“There’s someone coming.”

“Guys, someone’s here!”

“Someone new!”

“Finally!”

“That makes ten of us. I reckon that’s all of us here.”

YN stood still on the spot, taking in the deepest intake of breath to prepare herself before she exhaled slowly through puckered lips, trying to rid herself of the nerves that were sitting low in her stomach and making her feel sick, to keep her heart from racing and thumping rapidly in her chest.

When she was first asked to be one of the housemates for that year, she thought it looked fun and she was always up for trying new things and stepping out of her comfort zone. She was the biggest advocate for telling people, through her Youtube videos, that they should try out new things because they’ll never know how they feel unless they gave it a go. She shook her limbs to rid the nerves making her shake and she rolled her neck, giving herself the quickest pep-talk in her mind, and she took the last few steps from the room she was standing in and into, what she could only guess was, their kitchen and dining area together.

“Hi!”

“Oh my god, hi!”

“Hello!”

She was overwhelmed with the greetings, dropping her plastic FootAsylum bag to the floor and feeling the warm embrace of someone instantly wrapping their arms around her, a sweet and floral smell of someone’s perfume filling her nose as she reciprocated the hug, long hair tickling at her nose. Her eyes darted from face to face, slightly overwhelmed yet the feeling had slowly felt less suffocating and she took the chance to bolden her demeanour. The males taking their time to come forward and introduce themselves yet the females wasted no time in wanting to get to know her, patiently waiting for their time to bring her into a hug and find out more about her.

“I’m Anastasia,” the girl introduced herself and YN introduced herself in response, and she gave YN one final squeeze before pulling away, stepping aside for someone else to take her place. YN had seen Anastasia on her Youtube recommendations, at a time when she started gaining inspiration on how she wanted to run her channel and a long while back when it was just a mere thought, and it was nice to be given the chance to meet her on a more personal level than just what she showed for the cameras and for her vlogs. “It’s so good to finally meet you!”

A short queue-like crowd of eight other people had formed around her and the nerves that had been sitting in her belly had almost disappeared once she realised they were all in the same boat - no one really knew anyone in this place, they were all there to get to know one another and they were all there to fight for the winning place. They were all there for the same reasons, all going through the same thing, feeling the same feelings and experiencing the experience together so it made everything feel much less intimidating.

She hugged everyone around her, introducing herself as they introduced themselves, and they seemed like a truly good bunch of people to spend the next fourteen days with and she was excited to form special friendships with the whole lot of them.

One guy hung behind from the introductions, waiting incredibly patiently, dressed in all black with the sleeves of his hoodie hiding his hands as his fingers played with the hem in a nervous manner. Brown hair upon his head, tousled and messy, and the most engaging brown eyes that didn’t seem to leave her face as he drank in everything about her. Every inch of his face was beautiful looking, sculpted perfectly, with the curve of the tip of his nose looking soft and the stretch of skin across his cheeks looking rosy and pink. She felt a connection to him, she felt easy around him without even knowing his name, and it was a feeling she couldn’t get rid of as if there was something that intrigued her about him that she was desperate to figure out.

“I’m Arthur. ArthurTV,” he grinned, almost hesitating as he went in to give her a hug, but barely resisting when she wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated the greeting between the two of them, forearms resting on his shoulders as her hands joined at the back of his neck, “it’s so lovely to meet you.”

“I’m YN,” she smiled softly to herself, reading off her Youtube name in a similar fashion to how he had introduced himself and he snickered softly as she pulled away from him and broadened the gap between their two bodies, “it’s lovely to meet you, too, Arthur.”

“Did you struggle as much as me to find the entrance to this place? Because I must have looked like a massive tit to the cameras when I walked straight past the entrance and round the corner in hopes I’d find a backdoor or something,” he admitted, a laugh following in suit as she giggled and shook her head, “honestly, I just hope everyone else did the same.”

“It took me ages to find the door. I didn’t walk past it but I just stood there, staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Thought that if I stared long enough, I’d see into a void and it would just appear,” she admitted and shook her head at how silly she was going to look in the eyes of those watching when it went live over on Youtube, “we can both look like tits together, I guess. Great first impressions to the public and all.”

“I do say that we make quite the perfect pair,” he joked, internally wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear at how corny he must have sounded, except she laughed at his attempt at humour and he swore he felt butterflies in his belly, “come and get to know everyone properly. We think you were the last person to join us now there’s ten of us standing here.”

So she was the last.

She knew it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was Spuddz’s idea.

“Hot Seat! Let’s do Hot Seat.”

And YN couldn’t lie, the volume at which he suggested it had woken her up a little from her daze.

Her eyelids felt really heavy and her eyes were stinging, almost screaming at her to give in to the temptation of snoozing and go to nap, and that was probably due to the lack of sleep she’d gotten the night before her arrival into the house. Because all night, all she could think about was the worst of what was about to happen. In a situation unknown to her, with people she didn’t know well enough, all she could think about was how she’d be an outcast compared to everyone else.

She didn’t want to be the first one to announce her departure from the room, disappearing and missing out on the rest of the evening, just because she needed an hour's shuteye to feel a little more refreshed. But the warmth between the arm of the sofa and having Arthur seated beside her was enough to lull her into a state of complete peace and relaxation, almost completely at ease with everyone, listening to everything that was happening around her and chiming in with her own questions whenever she was prompted with something when they spoke about something that piqued her interest in the matter.

Arthur had been her saviour in the first few hours of being in the Locked In house.

She hadn’t been glued to his hip for the entirety of the evening… although she thought she had been. Since their first hello’s were shared just a few hours prior, she felt magnetised towards him. She wasn’t sure what it was about him but she felt like she could be herself around him… maybe it was because he had taken time to greet her and introduce himself, maybe it was because they had common traits that made them feel comfortable with each other, maybe it was because she found him attractive and wanted to get to know him more. She couldn’t put her finger on anything definite but he made her feel a sense of confidence within herself. Like she could do anything that FootAsylum threw at her.

She had taken time to pop over to the girls of the house and have a chat with them so she could understand who they were and what their personalities were like. And she had been indulged in a joke war with SomeJokeman when he broke their awkward silence by cracking out a ‘Knock Knock’ joke for her to answer. But she always found herself always gravitating back towards the brown-haired, brown-eyed man who kept himself to himself and let others involve him rather than forcing himself in conversations happening around him. He was the one who had shown her around the house, the one who let her know what bed was free and who had claimed certain spots to be theirs and he was the one who let her take in the surroundings on her own accord.

The late afternoon hours had passed by, although they had no idea on what the time was, and it felt like they’d known each other for longer than a mere few hours. Where everyone was bouncing off questions and getting to know one another in a setting that was getting quite loud and confusing, the suggestion of getting to know one another at the pace of one at a time was something they could all agree upon.

“We’re gonna put Jamie in the hot seat first,” Spuddz informed, letting the lad stand up from his place on the sofa and in front of everyone, “please, young man, state your name for the audience.”

“My name’s Jamie, otherwise known as LDN Movements,” he started off, clapping his hands and clasping them together in front of him in a nervous way, “is this how we do this? You ask me questions and I just answer them?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spuddz nodded, “like an interrogation.”

And it began from there.

Question after question came out, and she couldn’t fault him and everyone else with how they dealt with the quickfire questions being thrown at them from all areas of the lounge room. Answering with detail and speaking with gusto and enthusiasm as they all took the chance to get to know one another; finding out what they were like as a person, what their Youtube careers was based upon, what they did when they weren’t filming and what their hobbies and passions in life were.

“YN! Our last little newcomer,” Steph grinned at her from the sofa on the right, wiggling her fingers in an attempt to get her to stand to her feet and take her place before everyone, “it’s your turn, darling.”

She sighed in feigned dramatics, rolling her head back against the sofa before smirking and standing to her feet, much to Arthur’s dismay as he felt the cold air take over where her warmth had once been.

“I’m YN, as you already know,” she smiled, drawing out a long curtsey before everyone, “I don’t really do very much, to be honest. I started out on Instagram, gained myself a good following of young people who were interested in reviews of different daily products and skincare routines and such, and I went from there. I’m a lifestyle Youtuber, I guess. Moved my content into a much longer form instead of small Instagram videos and stories.”

“What is a ‘lifestyle Youtuber’?” Johnny asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on the palms of his hands, “I’ve never really heard of that.”

“I basically just vlog about my life? I don’t know how to explain it,” she felt her cheeks getting hot under Johnny’s gaze and she stared at the floor beneath the lightened oak coffee table in the centre of the room, “I film bits of my day, what I do, I never understand why people enjoy watching videos about my life but… they got me here. Which, of course, I’m so thankful for. So many opportunities have come my way since then and it’s all because of them.”

When she posted her first video, a ‘get to know me’ post that consisted of a compilation of frequently asked questions from her Instagram page that people wanted to know about her, she had no idea that she would be where she is now. A video where she opened up and shared more about herself and her personal life - from the quick and easy questions about her relationship status and her family life and where she grew up and what she studied in school to what she wants out of life and where she sees herself in five years time and what she thinks is the biggest issue in the world as we know it - had gotten her onto a pedestaled platform where, for the year, she had been able to share her tips and her tricks in how to get by in certain scenarios.

She vlogged her daily life, from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she laid her head down on her pillow at night, and people loved to see what she got up to. Her friends became constant guests in her videos, partaking in small challenges and Q and A’s that were topical to whoever she had on screen, and her fans loved to see her in her social group where she let her true enjoyment and her true self be seen.

She loved what she did.

She was lucky to be where she was.

She had a supportive following who loved her, supported her, made sure to help boost her name into the general public and she repaid them back by giving them back the amount of love that they gave to her.

And she wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

“Here, here,” Jamie cheered, “very lucky to have people watch us and support whatever we choose to do.”

“I don’t think any of us would be here,” YN pointed to the exact spot she was standing in with both of her pointer fingers, “without our subscribers and our followers. I thank my lucky stars every single day that I am where I am.”

Steph cooed softly at the words YN let slip off her tongue and she suddenly felt very open and vulnerable.

“Do you just post videos about a day in your life? Do you do challenge videos or react videos or anything like that?” Arthur asked, also following in suit of Johnny and leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees and cupping his own face with his palms and as similarly as they were sat, she could look into Arthur’s eyes and speak to him, “do you just do reviews or?”

“I just do reviews, yeah. I don’t really focus much on the internet world and celebrities but more the real world and I just have a chat with the camera as if I was talking to my followers personally. I talk about topics people are chatting about all the time, what people comment about, and what’s trending. Whenever I get asked to do advertisements and such, I review different make-up products, skin care products, I show off my bedtime routine and my make-up routine and what products I use for skincare. I get sent clothes from various brands and do mini hauls, in the summer and the winter, on what I like and what suits me and what I would wear for specific occasions,” she grinned softly, “I should get you guys on. I think I could definitely use Arthur as a dummy to test out different make-up looks.”

Arthur blushed and shook his head, cackling softly, “I think you’re the more beautiful one out of us. You don’t need me to ruin it.”

“Arthur has rizz, you know!” Jokeman bellowed from beside him, clapping him on the shoulder as he blushed in his seat, “this is like a dating show, I’m telling you. Watch this space! Locked In is the new Love Island.”

There’s a chime that brings the conversation to a halt, saving Arthur from any more embarrassment from what the others had to tease him about, with the screen lighting up on the wall with an announcement, in the form of a tweet from Twitter, appearing on the screen.

From the moment she arrived, YN had been craving a bed.

As soon as her head hit the plush cushion at the height of the bed, her slippers having been kicked off at the side and her pillows plumped up so she could sleep a little more upright, she could feel her eyes getting heavier and heavier as she got more and more comfortable. Watching as everyone else readied themselves for bed, with make-up free faces and blankets wrapped around their shoulders, dressed in the comfiest of clothing as they went about their nightly routine. Teeth being brushed, faces being washed, clambering into bed before the lights went out.

To one side of her, she had Anastasia.

To the other side, she had Arthur.

A grin on his lips as he made eye contact with her from beneath the duvet that was pulled up to his chest, hair tousled and his fringe sticking to his slightly damp forehead from where he’d washed his face, cheeks red from where he had scrubbed his skin with a cleansing wash. Her cheeks flushing red once she realised he was looking at her and she giggled softly and shook her head at him, pulling her own duvet to her chin and nestling a little further down on the mattress.

“It was good meeting you, YN.”

“You say that like we’re gonna be apart forever after we close our eyes. Like we’re just gonna die and never wake up,” she snorted, rolling onto her side to face him better, “sucks for you that you’re gonna be stuck with me in here for the next two weeks.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he hummed, closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep, leaving her in a slight state of shock as she took in what he had said so nonchalantly.

333 notes · View notes

httpsserene · 1 year ago

Text

relationship reveal — 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 lance stroll x fem!black!reader requested! smau. vacation romance. profanity. a couple of suggestive lines. one line of dark humor (toaster bath). fluff and angst. sibling dynamics (bullying). hard launch (but sad). heartbreak. this might count as breaking up.

synopsis: if you love her, you have to let her go. who the hell came up with that?

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i think my tags are overdramatic but, i’m not trying to getting jumped in my inbox for miss tagging anything. also, i know lance isn’t a fan favorite, but i’m in love with this smau, and i will not be accepting any judgement xxx

instagram • ynplays • december 14th • cozy in a cabin ⚑

liked by valkyrae, yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, and 43,879 others

ynplays: falling love with canada🇨🇦🍁🏒⛸️🌨️

tagged yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, nhl

view comments

ynplays: sega cries after he walks us back to our room at night and leaves 😫

➥ user1: she’s just a liddol girl 🥹

➥ user2: the puppy has spoken u have to keep him i don’t make the rules 🤷🏿‍♀️

➥ user3: so...you have no choice but to run away with him into the sunset.

yoursister: booooo we get it you've been brainwashed by a canadian man 🙄🙄🙄

➥ ynplays: when was the last time you smiled today

➥ yoursister: it's difficult when ALL you do is yap about your crush on this hockey-core man 🤢

➥ ynplays: he gives himbo hockey player IM TELLNG YOU !!!

➥ user4: so he's canadian 😶

user5: his name starts with an L, he's approx 6'0, is brunette with brown eyes, and he's canadian with hockey player vibes👐🏻

➥ user6: i could walk two (2) steps outside of my house in ottawa and i'd run into a man who fits this description 😭😭

➥ user7: he sounds like every other bitch???

➥ user8: let's go through every minor and major hockey league roster again

➥ yourfriend1: "again?" who TF has time for that

user9: tagging THE nhl is crazy 💀

➥ user8: i'm telling you he's a hockey player

➥ user10: idk man he doesn't look like a hockey build in either of these photos🤔

igstory • yoursister uploaded!

[caption1; me and sis] [caption2; fuck. i guess they're kinda cute together 😒]

yourfriend2: did you see them doing snow angels together 🥺🥺☹️ yourfriend2: that had me smiling ngl...they're adorable yoursister: yeah, i'm just happy there's no red flags she's ignoring, he seems like a genuine dude

user11: do you improve of this lance? 6'0, brown eyes, brunette, canadian hockey player 🙂 yoursister: uhh i fear for his life,,are u gonna put a hit on him or smth yoursister: also he is not a hockey player lol user11: oh🫣 yoursister: i'm pretty sure he's like a car engineer or smth? i think i heard him say that

twitter • december 16th

instagram • ynplays • december 16th • sanctuary ⚑

liked by nhl, yoursister, yourbestie, yourmom, and 42,313 others

ynplays: i don't want to leave.

view comments

nhl: not me crying 😩 - admin

➥ user12: huh

➥ user13: nhl admin relatable

yourbestie: aw babe. enjoy your last five days here :)

➥ ynplays: i only have five days left 😟

➥ yourfriend1: oh girlie...it'll be alright

➥ yourfriend2: i always hate this part of the vacation

yoursister: please ask lance if he's willing to take you off my hands. permanently preferably.

➥ ynplays: are you familiar with the term sympathy?

➥ yoursister: oh you're sad for real

➥ yoursister: 😕 therapy session in the hot tub now ladies

➥ user14: this is depressing me

user15: hey, you can just elope? i don't think you've added that to your toolbox yet

➥ ynplays: too sad to even consider it rn

➥ ynplays: nvm he invited me to his cabin later 👅✌🏽

➥ user15: use protection 🙂‍↔️

user16: i feel like this should have a sensitive content warning

➥ user17: my day is ruined

➥ user18: and my disappointment is immeasurable

➥ user19: THERES 104 DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION🗣️🔊

➥ user20: read the room man @/user19

twitter • ynplays • december 21st

instagram • lancestroll • december 24th

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, and 2,109,764 others

lancestroll: winter break has never felt so short. i missed you the second you stepped away from me. happy holidays, baby.

tagged ynplays

view comments

estebanocon: it’ll get better eventually mate ❤️‍🩹 believe it or not

➥ lancestroll: finding it hard to believe rn

chloestroll: come have some hot cocoa with me

➥ lancestroll: yn liked hot cocoa

➥ scottyjames31: oh mate…

➥ user21: okay, i'm concerned for my health. there's some sort of clear liquid leaking from my eyes

➥ user22: FUCK man this is sad 😕

astonmartinf1: chin up lance - admin

➥ alpinef1team: feeling for you mate - admin

➥ mercedesamgf1: sad it ended up like this for you lance - admin

➥ user23: the f1 teams are assembling like the avengers in infinity war for this

➥ user24: an unforgettable day in f1 history

yourmom: fix this. liked by lancestroll

➥ user25: w mama 🤩

➥ user26: tell him ma'am ‼️‼️

yourbestie: thank you for being good to her when you had her

➥ lancestroll: don't thank me for that.

➥ user27: cooking up my toaster bath actually

user30: well this is not the hard launch i wanted to confirm our theory.

➥ user31: brb about to create them in the sims and make them get married and have 6 children, sega, two cats and let them get old together

➥ user: realest cure for heartbreak

user28: no way they decided not being together at all is worse than being long distance

➥ yoursister: that's what i sad but nobody listens to me

➥ user28: why'd they do it???

➥ yoursister: my sister can be incredibly stupid about returned feelings. and for some reason she chose now to "protect her heart"

➥ user29: she deserves her happy ending and needs to allow herself to have it 😭😭😭

twitter • ynplays • december 25th

imessage • lance -> yn

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 x black!reader #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x black!reader #lance stroll smau #lance stroll x y/n #f1 x y/n #lance stroll fluff #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 x female reader #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ls.

429 notes · View notes

cryptfile · 1 year ago

Text

☆ Loveseat, [ Carmen Berzatto AU ]

SUMMARY — After being in a relationship with Carmen, you cannot help but being extra judgemental when it comes to food.

WARNINGS — i’m currently rotting in hell, meaning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, +18 content, there’s a lot of, cursing, choking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of food and eating, hair pulling, fingering.

SIDE NOTES — This is my first post here, so hope you guys like it. English’s not my first language so if there's any mistakes in advance, i’m sorry. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me! I’ll leave my inbox open so you can suggest more characters! This takes place in an alternative timeline for own my liking, enjoy! x

Lately, Carmen Berzatto was not sure how he managed to get you.

To be completely honest, most of his friends seemed to wonder how he managed to pull the tattooer that adorned his hands with cool designs being that shy, however, when you started texting him photos of your daily food stating it was complete bullshit — He knew he had you in for a long time.

He would explain himself it was something casual at first. A few texts every now and then, swimming between a wave of bad jokes and tension he was sure he was imaging as he read through the texts you send at least twice, then, he would know he’d win you over with food.

Maybe that’s when you became so judgemental at first, after trying the lasagna he made for you after being so tired from working all day long, something else just snapped, even when he was done being near the fire, not even wanting to look at a plate ever again: He managed to spoil you with something good to eat anyways, making you moan in pure pleasure after craving some good food all day.

Of course it was important, can you even blame him?

He was not very vocal about it, hell, it was hard for him to even admit it even after being with you almost six months, but he loved the way you reacted to all his stuff. Even if it was something simple like scrambled eggs or regular pasta with plain butter, it was the way you groaned and grab the spoon licking the silverware clean, showering him with praises after when he was so used to be miserable in the kitchen.

“Open up,” he says before feeding you with the spoon. It was one of those nights where he was trying new stuff at your place, keeping you up till late seated on the kitchen counter close to him as he cooked, opening your mouth just to give an allegedly meaningful critique. “Any thoughts? Feedback?”

It was a wild ride for sure. A turbulent one as you closed your eyes all suddenly, the image burnt on the back of his head when you groaned savoring the taste like it was something else.

“Dunno,” you admit later on, trying to think on anything bad to say — “Need to have another bite before giving an honest answer.”

He smirks in response, repeating the same action just to hear you speak again. Being with you was something similar as his cigarette breaks, escaping from all the stress he usually gets in his life.

Silence again.

“Well fuck, you have me here. Maybe needs some more salt,” you think out loud. Almost trying to say something bad out of force as you knew he wouldn’t stop until he got an brutally honest answer. “The combinations of flavors though is really breathtaking, you outdone yourself this time. Could tattoo this risotto on me, no questions asked.”

Salt? He takes a bite himself almost immediately.

“It doesn’t need any more salt” he replies furrowing his brows in response. “We’ve talked about this sweetheart…”

“You wanted me to be a critique,” you admit almost offended, letting out a light chuckle before stealing the spoon from his hand in one swift movement. “I'm, being indeed, sincere here."

God. It was those moments that made him catch his breath, how the minutes passed slower and everything else seemed to blurry around the two of you. He cannot deny it, cause he loves the snarky responses, the way your mouth wraps around the spoon in a way that made him so devastated at the sight, head spinin’ with the thought of the things he already did to you, the memories that he seems to cherish so deeply.

He cannot stop either when his fingers toy with your hair, the strains sliding smoothly through his fingers. You seemed to enjoy it too, cause it's all it takes to make you forget about the food, leaning into his touch.

"Since when you became my main critique, hm?” he asks, placing himself between your tights as he invaded your space with nothing but pure confidence in his cooking skills. He knew for a fact, it didn't need any more salt. "Made you so spoiled you are a new expert here, baby?"

“Well, it’s your fault anyway" you defend yourself, narrowing your eyes at his words. "You're the one who spoils me rotten, always feeding me nice tasty stuff, keeping me up till’ late trying new things. I’m what you taught me to be, cannot blame for being a good critique. It is what it is."

"So you're blaming me for being a caring partner?" he cannot hold the laugh back, pulling on your hair almost enough to make you look at him. “S’that what you’re implying here?”

“Would never even dare to” you admit all innocence bitting the inside of your cheek, and Carmen swears you’re doing it just to get in his brain, to control every action in that twisted brain of yours, and he cannot stop himself to fall every time, pulling on your hair slightly rougher this time as he towers over you. “Just implying that you’ll ruin food for me forever if we keep this up.”

“Not seeing what’s the problem with that” he simply replies as he stared at your expression, how the simple act of your head tilted backwards made his blood boil, the exposed skin of your neck pulling him like the polar opposite of a magnet as he looks down at you — “Don’t really care.”

He’s clearly enjoying that. The sudden proximity as his left hand travels through your side, gripping onto your tight as he gives a light squeeze, tracing invisible patterns against your warm skin that contrasts so much to the chef’s usual cold hands.

He cannot possibly have enough of you as you melt into his touch, in the very edge of turning into a mad man as he grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you in a demanding kiss, tongue-tracing over your lower lip, almost asking for a formal invitation to finally invade you, his breathing colliding against your skin, holding you in place as he suffers from a burst of pure adrenaline.

His hands betray him in no time, drawn by the sounds you make when he’s nibbling on that nice curve on your neck, allowing his hand to glide over your soft skin just to end up in your inner tights, fingertips just barely touching as he just watches over you, the sight of you being just enough, that nice smell on your skin when he kisses your neck, your perfume being all around him… it’s getting to him.

He quickly becomes all so vocal, when he’s finally reaching the fabric of your shorts and his touch leaves a burnt sensation behind, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Gonna’ ruin it f’ya, baby” he says in a low voice — “Looking s’hot all bothered already just for a few kisses, cannot help but spoil m’girl.”

Of course he fucking loves it. He loves how he knows exactly how to make a mess out of you, touching just the right places, concentrated in your pleasure as he drags the velvety fabric of your shorts to the side, making you crave the touch of his fingertips before finally slide them beneath the fabric of your underwear, lips parted as he finally touches your entrance, taking his time with you.

“God, you’re so wet f’me already, so damn warm” he says in a low whisper, making you talk in between your erratic breathing words that don’t seem to mean anything.

It’s so good. The frantic feeling washing over him as his fingers move in circles over your clit, the almost unnoticible wet sounds filling the air of the kitchen as he places soft kisses in that very spot where your shoulder meet the curvature of your neck. He just knows exactly what he’s doing. How to get under your skin, how to make you run out of breath, and he simply grew attached to it, to the way your skin feels so smooth against his fingers and you act up minutes before beggin’ for more.

And when he finally buries two digits in your cunt — God fucking damn.

He cannot keep the facade, blue eyes drinking the sight of you in as you moan, hips moving against his palm watching how his fingers dissapeared in you, pumping slowly at first, enjoying the way your walls wraps around his fingers, the words that came out of your opened mouth in pure desperation.

“Bear,” you would say in an unsteady breathing “O-oh fuck yes, yes baby, please don’t stop, please-”

The hand who pulled your hair before now tightens around your throat, and he can see you smiling like you’re in fucking paradise before he presses against that nice spot in the side of her neck, cutting the suministration of air to your lungs slightly. Always so eager, making him try new things together even when he was used to an relatively calm, almost non-existant sex life when all his focus was on the restaurant, insisting on trying new things that he end up loving.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me, taking me so s’good” he praises you for a moment, obliging you to look at him when he talks “Lettin’ my fingers fill you up like this, a mess already.”

“That’s it baby, move those pretty hips, need you to keep fuckin’ y’self.”

Lewd sounds, his tight grip on your neck, your hips arching to find that perfect place for him to hit and it’s all it takes for the chef to bring you closer and closer to the edge, fingers curling inside your soaked cunt, moaned sentences that in his ear are only adding up fuel to keep flexing his muscles for you, to keep on stimulating you.

“Gonna cum,” you let him know, but he’s quickly shaking his head in disapproval — “Carm, please, need to-”

“You can hold a little longer, princess” he coos, his grip on your throat almost making you stop breathing completely. Fuck. Your vision becomes dizzy, and for Carmen, the view is nothing but pure delight in front of him. Your shirt raised over your stomach, you pretty little face all disorted thanks to the thrill, parted legs just to give him more space to work with, fighting for some air. He’s so damn greedy about it, knowing he’s the only person who can get you like that. “Hm, stop squeezing me like that baby.”

He chuckles lightly, your hands gripping into the edge of the counter, raising one leg over the table as you try to do what you’re told, to please him every single time. He’s torturing you, and you cannot blame him cause you made him like that, just like he spoiled you with food. All those times whimpering in his bedsheets, asking all shy if he can choke you while pounding into your cunt, cheeks red while riding him, whispering things about how thick he feels inside, how he’s stretching you out so nicely, made him confident enough to know exactly what you like.

Carmen Berzatto is a caring boyfriend after all.

“S’okay, sweetheart” he says moments after, placing soft kisses on your face, your skin glimmering against the lights of your kitchen, a light layer of sweat as you closed your eyes tightly — “Cum baby, let me feel you” he talks you through it, words coming to his mouth so easily now, the sound of his tone so raspy it makes you arch your back as you finally let yourself go, riding the orgasm and making it last as long as you can, your own pleasure being your only priority as his digits bury themselves in your cunt, pressing against your neck to make it more difficult for you, to fill your eyes with tears as you loudly moan his name.

He holds you place, the mess he made out of you in such short time, eyes following the way your body shakes in the glimpse of ecstasy, fingers still pumping inside you but at a much slower pace, knowing you’d be sensitive now, lips swollen, messy hair and ruined mascara.

“Willing to admit now i’m right?” he ask in a low voice, letting you breathe as he was still afected by you — “That it doesn’t need any more salt, smartass?”

You hum in response, chuckling at his stubborn remark, your hands gripping into his arm just to dig your nails in his tattooed skin, almost begging him to let you breathe a second.

“Get up,” he says, not harshly enough to be a command, but instead, a plea. “Bend over the counter baby. M’not done with you yet.”

And even being so sensitive, you cannot help but comply, looking at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes cause yeah, he made you a spoiled brat in terms of food, but you have definitely broke something else when it came to the intimacy he was now into.

Or maybe you just loved being his main critique.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x female reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x female reader #the bear fx #carmen bearzatto #cryptfile // the bear

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

Text

Vice.

Synopsis - Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Pairing - Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. luke has a gorgeous filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note - my baby my baby my BAAAAAABY!! I have been in love with this man for years and years and I can't believe I haven't written more for him. if you ever have a luke request, please send it to me. love him with my whole heart <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Vice - a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit. "Cigars happen to be my father's vice."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Italian food."

The entire team laughs, faces illuminated by the warm yellow lights in Rossi's backyard.

"Yeah, no shit," Tara retorts, looking pointedly at Dave. "Doesn't take a behavioural analyst to figure that one out."

"Look, you asked the question, I answered."

He reclines back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine, looking around the table.

"Okay Tara, you go. What's your vice?"

She chuckles to herself before confessing.

"Super steamy period romances."

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

"Wait, what?"

"What kind?"

She's clutching at her sides as she answers.

"All kinds! Movies, books, TV shows. If it has corsets and sex, I'm in."

Your cheeks are aching from smiling so hard. You're not sure who first raised the initial question, but it's really allowed you to get to know each other a little bit deeper.

"Okay, enough about me. Simmons, what's your vice?"

"I have six kids. I don't have time for a vice."

He sounds serious, but he's grinning as he says it.

"I think the six kids are a result of an old vice."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, several glasses of wine almost obliterating your verbal filter. Your team howl with laughter.

"No comment," Matt wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "Golfing is a safer option now. No risk of unplanned surprises."

"I had to change mine after kids, too," JJ chimes in. "I used to smoke cigarettes after bad cases, but I can't anymore. What kinda mom would I be if I lectured the boys about the dangers of nicotine, and then got caught chain smoking in the backyard?"

"A cool one," you shrug, yelping when she jokingly punches you in the arm.

"What about you, hotshot?" she asks, the whole team turning their attention to you. "What's your vice?"

You desperately avoid any eye contact, trying to play it cool. You just know Luke has that glint in his eye as he looks at you pointedly.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh, fuck," you groan, fingers threading into the dark curls of his hair.

"Shhh, honey," he murmurs, lifting his head from between your legs to look up at you. "You and I both know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught."

He dives back in, tongue gliding and flicking all the spots that make you keen. You slap one hand over your mouth, the other grappling to hold onto the leather beneath you.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, condescension dripping from his tone. "The thrill turns you on, doesn't it, baby? The risk of getting caught only makes you hotter."

You whine against your palm, bucking your hips to urge him to keep going.

"What do you want, princesa? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He loves this. Loves hearing you beg. Loves having you relinquish complete control and let him take care of you. Loves that he can turn you, the most independent, headstrong woman he knows, into a whining, needy mess.

"Fingers," you croak out. "Make me come, Luke, please."

He grins up at you like the cat who got the cream, self satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.

"Okay, baby," he soothes. "Since you asked so pretty."

He slides two fingers into you with embarrassing ease, crooking them in the way he knows you like.

"Oh, sweet girl, what would the team think? Huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw you like this, letting me finger fuck you in the backseat of my car in the parking garage?"

He's muttering lowly, under his breath, but you hear him clear as day. He loves to patronise you, tease you, get under your skin. In everyday life, he treats you with the utmost respect. In bed, not so much. You love it.

"Couldn't even wait until we got home. Poor baby, just had to take the edge off."

His eyes meet yours, like a magnetic force. His gaze is so dark, it has you squirming in place.

"It was the shirt," you choke out. "Fucking shirt."

"Hmm?" he hums against you, the vibrations pulling you closer to the edge.

"Your shirt," you moan as his thumb finds your clit. "Makes your arms look so, fuck, so big."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You can practically see his ego inflating.

"I'll let you wear it tomorrow morning, if you want. If you can still walk by then, that is."

You're right on the precipice, orgasm almost within reach. If he keeps talking to you like this, you'll be at the finish line in no time.

"Oh, I've got a better idea. Why don't I fuck you in it?"

The idea makes your head spin, sending you straight into your climax. Sharp white heat licks up your spine, curling your toes and arching your back. Your grip tightens in his hair and he groans, low and honeyed.

"That's it, baby," he's murmuring. "Ride it out. Good girl."

You finally relax, melting into the leather seats. Luke crawls from his position to lean over you, resting his body onto yours. He kisses you gently at first, then dirtier as you come back to yourself.

"My place or yours?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yours is closer."

"Mine it is."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hello? Earth to Hotshot?"

JJ nudges you playfully, grinning at you from ear to ear.

"What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you stutter, clearing your throat. "Nothing at all."

You make the mistake of lifting your gaze from your lap. There, staring at you from across the table, is Luke Alvez. You almost wish you could slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"Come on, girl!" Tara hollers.

"Everyone has a vice," Spencer begins. "You have to. Especially in our line of work. We have to have some kind of outlet. Some sort of release."

Release. You almost choke on your wine, patting yourself on the chest.

"Yeah, no. I, uh, I like British reality TV. I guess that's mine."

The team laugh, everyone teasing you relentlessly. You risk a glance at Luke, and regret it immediately. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and chuckles, knowing look in his eye. You're petrified for a moment that he can read your mind.

"Okay then Spence. Your turn," you prompt, desperate to take the attention off yourself.

Spencer starts rambling about quantum physics, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Yeah, this is what you needed, isn't it baby?"

You try to respond, but Luke's huge hands wrapped around your throat are making it a little difficult.

"My poor sweet girl, just needed some relief huh? You sick of being in charge all the time? You want me to take care of you?"

His tone is low and melted, the timbre of it settling into your bones. All you can do is whine and nod your head in response.

His hips repeatedly snap into yours, his body melded to you. He's completely smothering you with his weight, but you don't mind. You like the closeness.

You lean up to kiss him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He's swallowing your moans, leaning his head forward to rest against yours.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty," he groans. "You gonna come for me, mama? Give me what I want?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes. Please, baby. Please."

"Who am I to deny you when you beg so fucking sweet?"

The hand that's not around your throat snakes between your sweat slicked bodies to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge.

Your back arches, hips writhing on Luke's soft cotton sheets. You're squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.

"Oh fuck baby, oh fuck."

Luke goes boneless, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He releases his grip on your throat and wraps both arms around you, pressing you together impossibly closer.

"We get better at this every time," he chuckles.

You smack him jokingly, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two of you are crying happy tears, revelling in the afterglow.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"I'm gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"

You stand from your seat and make your way inside, taking note of the replies.

"I'll help you," Luke says, rising to join you. Neither of you see the way everyone at the table looks at each other knowingly.

You're barely through the door when you feel him against you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, murmuring in your ear.

"I'm your vice, aren't I?"

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh.

"In your dreams, Alvez."

He nips at your neck before continuing.

"Admit it. I'm your dirty little bad habit that you just can't kick."

You turn in his arms to face him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Talk the talk all you want, Luke. You and I both know this works both ways."

Your quirk your brow at him, and he leans in and kisses you chastely.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you smirk back.

Outside, the team decide they'll continue to let you both lie to them for a little while longer. It's more fun for everyone that way.

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shina913 · 5 months ago

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Date Night | JWW

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: Fluff; slice of life

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Word count: 377 words

Summary: Wonwoo needs help tying his tie.

A/N: Short and sweet!

“Baby?”

You turn your head away from your bathroom mirror at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice.

There he is, standing by the doorway, his necktie dangling from his fingers.

Despite sending him countless tutorial videos and practicing in front of the mirror together, he still claims he needs help with his tie.

But you both know the truth—he just loves having you close to him.

“Please?” He gives you those puppy dog eyes, your own personal kryptonite.

You walk toward him, fingers working deftly at his collar, deliberately brushing against his warm skin as you loop the silk fabric. His breath catches at your touch, his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips as you tighten the knot and slide it up to his neck. When you finish, you smooth down his collar, letting your hands linger on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath he takes.

Looking up at him, you find his eyes fixed on you, their intensity making your own pulse race. Admittedly, you love having him this close too.

Your hands slide up to grasp his lapels, pulling him down until your lips meet in a slow, tender kiss that deepens when his arms encircle your waist, one hand on the small of your back as he leans into you.

“Do we have to go to this thing tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth, his fingers trailing down the curve of your ass.

You laugh softly. “It’s your work party, remember?”

“I know, but...” His voice drops lower as he traces patterns on your hip, nuzzling the crook of your neck. “We can have much more fun at home.”

The soft moan that escapes your lips as he suckles on your flesh is all the answer he needs. He lifts you off the floor, carrying you to the bedroom. When your back meets the mattress, you watch as he begins to loosen that tie.

“Wait—” You sit up to stop him, making him arch an eyebrow in confusion.

You give his tie a gentle tug, then slide your tongue across his lips. “Keep it on.”

The last thing you see is his devilish smile as he settles between your legs, making you gasp when the silk fabric brushes against your sensitive skin.

Main SVT Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #hiraya-m #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfiction #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fanfic

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fawningflowered · 10 months ago

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KATE MARTIN X PREGNANT WIFE READER

word count; 640 words.

authors note; i love love love feedback!! please come into my inbox and tell me what you think, it really helps to motivate me!

— cried when you told her. tears of joy of course, the two of you had been expecting it. the treatment was bound to work at some point, and if it didn’t, you’d adopt. holding the pregnancy text in hand, you’d cried as well.

— you had recorded your reactions as the test was flipped over. just for the memories, not to post. the pregnancy was not nearly ever posted, you preferred to keep these nine months all to yourselves. the public knew that the kate martin and her wife were expecting their first child, but it wasn’t found out until you were almost ready to give birth. once the baby was born, you tried to keep their face and name out of the media as much as possible. you and kate only wanted this baby to have the most normal life they could have.

the most you’d post, was pictures where you bump was not shown.

— nearly always had her hand on your stomach. everywhere you went, kate stood next to you holding onto you protectively. if you wanted space, your wife stood not too far away, but far enough to keep you happy. in addition to always touching your belly, she’d kissed it all of the time. she truly couldn’t believe it was finally real.

— kate just hopes for a healthy baby, not specifically a boy or a girl. but, when you found out the gender of the baby, the girl was over the moon. you were having a boy. every second she got, she rambled on and on about how good this would be for her nephew, carson. one of the greatest joys of the pregnancy was watching your wife hold carson in her arms and tell him about how his new cousin would be his bestfriend.

— every morning your wife sat on the side of the bathtub, holding back your hair and rub her hand on your back attempting to soothe you. she wishes morning sickness wasn’t a thing at all :((

— cooked for you every night, and every morning. always making or buying what you craved. her cooking wasn’t great, but you never wanted to hurt the poor girls feelings. so the two of you spent lots of time eating out. the thought was what counted after all.

— kate was forever thankful that carson had provided her with practice, and that she had awesome role models that gave her many tips. of course, you’d wake up late in the night to pee, and you’d find the blonde in the living room tiredly watching videos on how to swaddle or burp a baby.

“kate, baby, come back to bed. give the teddy bear a rest. you’ve got six months.”

— speaking of late nights, the girl would sit next to you with her hand on your stomach trying to feel some sort of kick. she couldn’t help but feel jealous that you’d always get to have the extra closeness to the baby during these nine months. and that you’d always be the first to feel the kick. but times like these, she cherished, it helped you to share the experience with her.

— after the six month mark, and your bump had grown larger, kate did everything for you. she took care of everything, cleaning, preparing the nursery, and she still had time for her career. the girl was constantly doting on you, showing how much she truly loved you. no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to do this all, she’d insist.

— and once your child is born, it’s born somehow looking like the perfect mix of both of you, even though you knew that wouldn’t be possible. funny how you carried this baby for nine months, yet he is just as sassy as kate.

divs by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged + anons are on. taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin. comment to be on taglist!!

#kate martin #wnba basketball #kate martin x y/n #lv aces #iowa wbb #kate martin x reader #las vegas aces #kate martin fanfic #iowa hawkeyes

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twola · 6 months ago

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Passerine - Chapter 6 [Finale]

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Wading through blood, you must confront the reality of where the road has taken you.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

chapter cw: graphic childbirth, smut, violence, blood, illness, graphic rape, death.

This is it, folks. Thank you for coming along for the ride. Please, I'd love your feedback after all is now said and done. Feel free to leave a comment or hit up my inbox. See you in the New Year.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous

The wagon roughly bounces on the path, your teeth sink into your lower lip to stifle a groan. You cannot stop the tears from streaming down your face, not anymore.

One of your hands lies upon your distended abdomen, the child's movements having grown frantic and agitated.

Jack looks at you, fearfully, as he’s clutched in his mother’s arms. Another jostle of the wagon and the boy buries his face into Abigail’s bosom.

Sadie drives the wagon, cursing each time it hits a rough patch in the road, which is often this north in Roanoke.

From the ride to Copperhead and then turning around and piling into a suspiciously procured wagon, the last two days have been hellish. One hiding in plain sight along the river and the marshes, and the second was riding by night north again, trying to at least get past Annesburg. Ambarino -it would be safe there -

A horse pulls up next to the wagon, and a dirty and disheveled John Marston looks down at you, then down the bed of the wagon with a grimace, clutching at his bloodied arm. “How is he?”

Tears spill from your eyes anew as you look down.

Arthur, bloodied, bruised, and barely breathing, lies in the wagon bed, his head perched upon your thigh, your hand lightly draped over his collarbone.

You can’t respond.

John realizes this, looking up the trail again as the horse plods forward next to the wagon. “We need to keep moving, get to Ambarino.”

Abigail, who has been quiet for most of the ride, pipes up. “John. We need to find somewhere to hunker down. Soon.”

“I know-”

“No, I mean now. She ain't gonna give birth in the back of a wagon.”

John’s eyes dart back to you, wide and fearful. “Shit, shit, alright,” he looks up the road again, then looks behind them.

He figures they are just north of Annesburg, he chews his lip before remembering, “Arthur told me of a widow that lives up at Willard’s Rest. Kind woman. We can see if she’ll take us in.”

Abigail reaches over and places a hand on your belly, frowning when she feels how hard it is. She looks up at you, “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you settled.”

Another burst of tears overflow from your eyes. Your hand clutches at Arthur’s shirt, but your lover does not respond.

God bless Missus Balfour. She missed not even a step when a wagon and rider full of women and bloodied men appeared at Willard’s Rest, this safe haven hidden away off the road, far, far north of civilization.

“Here, here, you can put him in that room there. Let me get this room ready for her. I’ll boil some water.”

John and Sadie half-carry, and half-drag an unconscious Arthur up the stairs as Charlotte slowly walks you into the house, her arm under your shoulder. Abigail follows with the little shadow of her son directly behind her and rubs at her brow tiredly when they reach the kitchen.

Jack tries to bury himself in his mother’s skirts. She frowns down at him for a moment, and when John reappears from the other bedroom, she leans down and kisses Jack on the forehead. “Jack, I’m gonna need you to go with your father. You gotta stay with him and help him, alright?”

John looks as if he is about to say something, but wisely closes his mouth as Jack leaves his mother’s side to tuck himself against his father.

Abigail gives John a tired look, her brow furrowed and serious, “Please, take him a bit away from here. For a while.”

“What, wh-”

“So he don’t hear the screaming. John, please.” Abigail takes John’s hand and squeezes it, whispering low in an attempt for her son not to hear.

John blanches when he realizes what she’s talking about. He steels his jaw and nods, his other hand falling on his son’s head. He nods to Abigail, taking her hand and pulling it up to his lips quickly. “I hope everythin’ goes alright.”

Abigail’s brow falters, and she leans forward and catches him quickly on the lips, surprising him. He quickly recovers and kisses her back, and they both pull back slightly and lean their foreheads against each other, “Me too, John, me too.”

Your groan from the bedroom takes them from the moment and John’s mouth falls into a straight, hard line. “I’ll take him over by the waterfall. Far enough not to hear, but we’re close if you need anythin’.”

Abigail nods a quick thank you and darts into the bedroom.

John looks down at his son, the son for so long he had ignored, “C’mon now, let's get to see if we can get some fish for dinner. That’ll make everyone happy.”

Abigail leans over and undoes your boots as you sit in the bed, and after she works them off your feet, she helps you swing your legs up and sit atop the bed, as you breathe heavily. The tightening sensation in your abdomen comes again, and you hiss in pain.

“Breathe through it, that’s it.” Abigail takes your hand and lets you squeeze it. When the pain subsides, you let out a deep breath.

“I’ll be gettin’ everything together. You’re safe, and you’re gonna have the most beautiful baby.” Abigail cups your cheek gently, lovingly. Assuringly. You nod and her hand squeezes yours again before she leaves the room.

You close your eyes, the aching in your hips is near unbearable, and the pain that comes every few minutes is like a bolt of lightning strikes you at your core.

“You must be his wife.”

The dark-haired homeowner steps through the door, carrying folded linens and a large bowl of water, steam wafting upward as she sets it on the dresser.

You're genuinely surprised at the statement, unable to respond at first, “I-….”

“He’s a wonderful man, your husband Arthur. Probably saved me from starving. He couldn’t stop talking about you, his wonderful wife, how you were back home about to have your first child together, how he couldn't wait. He is smitten with you, dear.”

Oh god, your Arthur, your wonderful, sweet… dying Arthur.

“He’s, he’s…. agh-!”

You double over in the bed, clutching your belly and wincing, yelling out in pain as your belly tightens and hardens. Charlotte takes one of your hands in her own and lets you hold it through the contracting of your body.

Abigail bursts through the door, followed by Sadie. Grimacing, she rolls up her sleeves, muttering to Charlotte and Sadie to lay you back from your sitting position. Your head falls back on the pillow as you gasp in pain, clutching at your belly. Abigail pulls up your skirts, folding them at your hips. A warm liquid trickles against your inner thighs as Abigail mutters to Sadie, and the two women manipulate your legs to slide your bloomers off.

Another pain, and this time you cannot help the moan escaping your throat as your abdomen tightens. It's like your body is collapsing in on itself, and you are barely cognizant of the women in the room. Charlotte steps in and helps as well, and by the time the pain lets up, they have stripped you down to your petticoat shift, have propped your legs up, and your knees falling open.

You're in so much pain that you don't think about decency at all, Abigail propping herself between your legs, your entire lower half on display. Another strangled cry claws its way out of you as you throw your head back.

“Arthur-” you call out in vain, “I need Arthur-”

“I know, honey. He’s just in the other room.” Sadie pats your hair back as she holds your hand.

“H-how am I supposed to do this without him?” You weep, squeezing your eyes shut against the waves of pain.

Sadie frowns, looking across the room at Charlotte. The women share a knowing, pained glance between them - a look of familiarity, of pain, of uncertainty.

Of losing one’s other half.

The shitty, ramshackle cabin smells of unwashed men and rotting food. Arthur doesn’t know what’s going on -why is he here, what is this place?

Two men sit at a table, playing cards and drinking from open bottles of whiskey.

Their vests are green. Arthur seethes and goes to pull his gun from his belt, to find that there is none. There’s no gun, no belt. He looks down, and frankly, there is no him. He is not… really there.

His confusion is interrupted as a half-dressed man bursts through a door from another room, hoisting his pants up as he steps in.

“Donal, you rat bastard - how’d you pick up a thing like that?”

The dark-haired man laughs as he places his h cards down. “Enjoy it while she lasts - I’m sure she won’t be so tight when we take ‘er back to Hanging Dog.”

The returning man rebuttons his pants before sitting down in an empty chair, “‘er cunt is still real nice.”

“Wait till you fuck her ass, talk about real nice.” The third chuckles, taking his bottle of whiskey and taking a long drag.

“Ain’t you worried about Van der Linde?”

“Naw, ain’t no one comin’ for her. She ain’t anyone important.” Dark-haired man takes a large swig of whiskey before slamming the bottle on the table. He takes his gunbelt off and places it on the table as well as he stands up.

“Now if you excuse me, think I’ll fuck that tight little hole again.”

Why couldn’t do anything, why couldn’t he kill them? What was this all?

The door swings open. That old, dirty, ratty bed where he found you, it’s there. Lantern light spills out, casting shadows through the room. Arthur is able to follow, somehow, in this incorporeal form.

You’re curled on the bed in a fetal position, nude and unbound. Your skin is peppered with bruises and your hair disheveled and dirty.

Arthur has never felt so helpless, like he was on the outside, looking in.

“Come on now, get on your back f’r me. Been thinkin’ bout you all day.”

The terrible clicking sound of a belt being undone pierces the stillness. You don’t move on the bed. The O’Driscoll starts to work at his trousers as he approaches your battered form. His pants drop to the ground as he reaches the bed. He manhandles you onto your back with no resistance, no fight in you.

He climbs atop you, parts your legs, and settles himself between them. The O’Driscoll spits in his hand slathers it over his hard cock, and without any preamble or gentleness, he pushes himself inside your abused cunt.

Arthur is stuck - he can’t look away, he can’t do anything. You don’t scream, or cry, or fight. You simply squeeze your eyes shut for that moment of penetration, completely resigned. Is this… is he seeing what happened to you? This, this heinous violation that happened because he wasn’t able to keep you safe.

The O’Driscoll moans in pleasure and Arthur wants to tear the world apart. Your body moves back and forth on the bed with each heinous thrust of the man on top of you. He grabs one of your legs and pulls it to rest on his shoulder. You don't react at all, staring at the wall.

“P-pretty miss.”

You need him, you need him, and again, he cannot keep you safe.

Arthur sees red, unable to do anything but watch.

You turn your head, catching Arthur’s gaze. Your eyes are dull, worn, dead. You can see him, the first acknowledgment from anyone all night.

You open your mouth and the most blood-curdling scream he has ever heard fills his ears.

Arthur’s eyes open; his vision blurred for several moments before being able to focus on the ceiling.

The screaming - it's not from his dream, it’s real, it’s happening right now - you need him-

He blearily awakens, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood as he pants. He struggles to sit up, but finally does so, his head spinning. He feels so weak. Another pained scream from down the hall. Wheezing, he clutches at his chest as he sits up in the bed. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, blood staining the fabric.

He hears Abigail through the wall, some sort of murmured affirmation that he can’t understand.

The baby-

Arthur slides from the bed onto unsteady feet, nearly falling as he stumbles forward and grasps onto a dresser to stay upright, loudly panting.

Another scream. The baby, you’re having his baby-

He wipes his mouth again as he looks around, recognizing the bedroom as one he’s seen before - he’s up at Willard’s Rest, Charlotte must have taken them in.

Arthur musters the little strength he has and takes step after unsteady step, leaning against dressers and the wall as he exits the bedroom and slowly drags himself down the hall.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, breathe through it.”

God bless, Sadie Adler is here too.

Arthur sucks in a loud breath as he leans against the frame of the open door, quickly exhausted by the exertion he has already gone through. It takes moments for his vision to correct and his lightheadedness to subside a little. Only then is he able to take in what is happening in this other bedroom.

You recline against Sadie, who rubs at your biceps gently as Abigail sits between your spread legs, arms bloodstained up to her elbows. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Charlotte Balfour leans over and places a wet cloth against your forehead, wiping away the sweat.

He must be dead, he must be. There’s no way on god’s green earth he’s seeing this. He’s completely unnoticed by the women, all rightfully focused on birth and life and not on a dying man.

“There we go. Alright, come on now honey.” Sadie coos gently. You grab at one of her hands and she holds it with the strength that Sadie is known for.

Abigail looks up to see Arthur leaning against the doorframe. Heaving breath, trying to keep himself upright. For an instant, she wants to go to him, but another scream escapes your throat and she immediately turns back to you. She mutters something to Sadie that Arthur cannot hear, and Sadie moves to let you lay down in the bed as a racking sob shudders out of your body.

“Couple good pushes left, you can do it-” Abigail places one of her hands below your knee and pushes your thigh back to round your belly. Sadie does the same with the opposite thigh, one hand free to brush back sweaty strands of hair from your forehead. Abigail nods to Charlotte and the latter takes Abigail’s place at the side of the bed, taking your thigh in her hands, holding it back the same as Sadie.

You scream again, head craning back on the pillow. Your hands clutch at the bedding beneath you with an unmatched strength.

“Yes - yes, there we go, here we are-” Abigail mutters, her free hand disappearing between your legs.

Your voice, rough and abused, suddenly changes tone. From fearful and pained to something fierce. The scream from your lungs is one of determination - of strength and power and by god, he’s never been so in awe of you.

Arthur’s heart stops beating at this moment, and he nearly forgets the weight in his chest that makes it nigh impossible to breathe.

“Now push-” Abigail orders.

A fresh burst of tears works its way down your face as you suck in a breath and clench your teeth as you follow Abigail’s instructions. A defiant yell claws out of your throat. Arthur’s hand squeezes the doorframe with a strength that nearly escapes him, all from you. He wheezes, trying to keep quiet as the birth unfurls.

Fitting, a dying man witnessing this space of women delivering life. Fitting, that he's at the very least able to see this feat of strength from you, after everything you’ve been through.

But in this moment, you didn’t need saving. Not by him.

Your screams are of strength, not fear nor pain.

You didn’t need him.

You’d be fine, even after he’s gone.

One last strangled cry from your throat and you grit your teeth, pushing with every fiber of your being. Sadie leans forward and pushes your thigh apart just a bit more, Charlotte following suit on her side of the bed.

“Yes, yes, that's it!” Abigail exclaims.

The world slows, collapsing in on itself, he wasn't just watching the labor of a woman, he was staring at the birth of stardust, creation, and holiness incarnate. He, the sinner that he is, does not deserve to bear witness to such a thing.

From his vantage point leaning against the doorframe, he sees the baby’s head appear between your legs, cradled by Abigail’s waiting hands.

He can’t hear the women’s exclamations, a tinny sound having taken over his hearing. Arthur watches you suck in another breath and bear down once again.

In a rush of blood and fluid, Abigail catches the child as you deliver.

Arthur has never seen something so beautiful in his life. All the riches in the world, he’d have traded for this moment. The three women murmur joyful praises at you as Abigail rubs at the newborn roughly swaddled in the clean linen.

The tinny noise goes away when the babe wails, a high-pitched screech that fills the room, over your panting, over the beating of Arthur’s heart, the crackling of his lungs.

“Oh honey, y’ did perfect.” Sadie grins, letting your thigh down gently as she leans over toward the table and picks up her hunting knife. Abigail coos at the baby and undoes the linen enough to make that pulsing blue-white cord, the last connection between you and the child, accessible for Sadie to cut above the child’s stomach. Charlotte blots your forehead again with a wet cloth, holding your hand as you try to crane your neck to see your baby.

Abigail smiles as she places the newborn on the bed and wraps it tightly in linen with practiced ease. Once satisfied, she nods up to Sadie, who with Charlotte, slowly and carefully adjust the pillows behind you and help to pull you into a reclining position.

Abigail places the child into your waiting arms.

The baby wails and it’s the most beautiful goddamn sound that he’s ever heard. This sight is the most beautiful goddamn thing he’s ever seen. You, in all of your glory, settling in on the other side of childbirth.

And then reality crushes back in.

Arthur can taste the coppery blood in his mouth, and he slumps down the doorframe as he coughs, losing his breath as the back of his hand is covered with blood. Through his fading vision, he makes eye contact with you, hazy, but perfect lying there on that bed, holding his healthy child. You look horrified as you try to get out of bed, crying out in pain as Abigail and Sadie try to push you to lie down gently again, the baby wailing against your breast. Charlotte begins to round the bed to reach toward him as he collapses.

Crumbling to the floor, blood bubbles across Arthur’s lips as he wheezes, drowning in the weight of his own sins.

Your head pounds as you awaken, being jostled roughly and uncaringly. It takes you a moment to realize you are gagged, something tied across your jaw. Your eyes dart back and forth as they get used to the light in the room.

You know this room. The pit of your stomach opens up as you are roughly placed against an old bed, and you can see your companion.

Dark, greasy hair. Dark, ruthless eyes. A green scarf tied around his neck.

Companion, captor, rapist.

‘Ello there love, time for us to get to know each other.

You try to claw at him, but he proves to be too strong - and the both of you tumble onto the dirty old bed. He is able to hold you down as he stands up, one elbow across your back and his hand encircles your neck, pushing your face into the mattress.

You’re just gonna make this worse for yourself.

You scream against the gag, in rage then in pain when he pulls your arms backward and tucks them behind your back. Rolling you over, he keeps weight and one on your shoulder, your arms scream in pain as he holds you down.

He snarls as he catches his breath, pulling his knife from his belt.

You goddamn witch, I should kill you instead of fuck you. But it’s been so goddamn long since I’ve gotten my cock wet-

He draws the knife’s blade slowly across your collarbone. You stop fighting, afraid that the blade is going to pierce your skin. Instead, he starts drawing it down the front of your blouse, and buttons start popping and flying as he drags the blade against the fabric. He reaches the last button before your blouse gets tucked into your shirt and places the knife on the bedside table.

This is takin’ too long. He smiles, and your stomach drops as he takes a fistful of your blouse and rips.

You scream into the gag again as he continues, tearing the blouse off of you, the sleeves falling down your biceps, disconnected from the rest of the fabric.

His arm moves from where he holds you down to land on your chemise’s neckline and you immediately take advantage of his weight being gone, trying to sit up and throw an elbow. He is wise to your moves, however, and catches your arm as you swing it.

Fuckin’ Van der Linde whore-

The O’Driscoll backhands you across the face, leaving you smarting and gasping out in pain, falling back to the bed.

Another rip. Your chemise is torn at the neckline, between his two hands, and he continues to tear the cotton in half, your breasts uncovered as he looms over you. You can taste blood in your mouth as your eyes water over, dizziness taking over your being.

You can feel the cool knife blade against the curve of your waist as he slides it against the ties of your skirt, pulling the blade up and slicing through the strings, placing it back on the table side as he starts to pull your skirts off, his grubby fingers digging into your skin, gathering your bloomers as well as he works them down your hips, thighs, and legs. Your knee-high stockings get pulled from your feet.

You begin to weep as the O’Driscoll strips you naked on that shitty bed, every scrap of clothing gone. A rough, dirty hand squeezes a breast, grabs your hip, smacks your ass. Fingers reach to toy with the dark curls hiding your cunt.

He leans over you and pulls the gag down, smirking evilly.

Your man isn’t here to save you. He’s not coming. It’s just you and me like it always has been.

Like it always has been.

You know how this ends. You know what happens next. You know the pain, and the shame, and the pity and hurt in Arthur’s eyes when he finds you.

You cannot keep letting him do this. He’s right, Arthur is not coming.

The O’Driscoll stands to full height and begins to undo his gunbelt, a sickening grin still on his face. He looks down, starting to unbutton his pants and you see the glint of the knife on the side table as the lantern light flickers. With his eyes off of you, you swing your arm up, grasping the knife and immediately turn it on him before he has a chance to react, jumping up from the bed.

You sink the knife into the O’Driscoll’s neck. He sputters in surprise for a moment as he rears back, his blood spraying out between your bodies.

You grit your teeth and pull the knife out of his neck and immediately plunge it in at a different angle. Warm lifeblood splatters all over your chest, your naked breasts, your neck, your face. The man makes a gurgling sound as he begins to slump forward on top of you. You let go of the knife and push him with all of your might, and he rolls to the side off of you, off the bed, crumbling into a jumble of limbs on the floor, blood seeping out of the holes in his body.

You lean over and pull the knife from his neck.

You stand above him as he dies, his blood dripping down your naked form. For so long, this man has controlled you, taken your body as his own, and held you down in fear and nightmares, long after his death. But now, now you stand above him, knife in hand, like a warrior queen.

You are unashamed of your nakedness - you needed no armor to vanquish him. You are unashamed of the blood - it is not smeared between your thighs as evidence of violation, it is splattered across your face, your breasts, trailing in rivulets down your belly and your legs.

The O’Driscoll shudders in a death throe, his eyes wide as he stops twitching.

You grip the knife tightly in your hand. He’s dead, he’s dead and he can’t hurt you anymore. He can never hurt you again.

The room begins to fade away.

And for the first time in so very, very long, you wake up in your bed, alone, at peace.

The oil lamp flickers, casting a shadow throughout the room. You frown, mentally taking note to get more oil the next time someone goes to town.

You tiredly wipe the table of crumbs with an old rag, collecting said crumbs in your hand and tossing them in the sink, along with the dirty dishes from dinner. You had no desire to address those dishes tonight, the sun has long gone down. Sighing, you wipe your forehead of dotted sweat with the back of your hand as you clear the rest of the table.

A muffled bang comes from the door, and you hurry toward it before another knock rings through your house. Opening the door, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.

John Marston stands in your doorway, holding a large canvas sack over his shoulder. You smile and step out of the way for him to come inside. He does so, stepping immediately toward your newly cleaned table and placing the sack down on the table. You consider scolding him, but hold your tongue as he unrolls the canvas, a large, paper-covered slab of meat as his bounty. Freshly shot, you know, Abigail having mentioned that John was out hunting this morning.

“Guess you were successful?” You laugh as John rolls his shoulder.

“A little bit.” He mutters, rubbing at it.

“Gettin’ old there, cowboy?” You tease, and Marston scowls back at you, his scars across his face always making him look more severe than you know he is. But the scowl does not remain long.

“Shaddup.” He laughs in that rough voice that brings you such comfort.

You laugh as well, placing your hand on his bicep, “Thank you, John, this means a lot.”

“You sure you’re alright out here? You know Abigail would rather you stay with us.”

“John, I’m fine. Besides,” You motion over to the wrapped flank of meat that he has placed on the table, “You provide enough as is.”

He rolls his eyes, “You do know I’m gonna get an earful from Abby when I get back to the house.”

“John Marston, both you and I know that you was gonna get an earful from her no matter what my answer was.”

He smirks, looking at his feet. Still bashful, after all these years. He looks up again, that half smile across his face, the silvered lines of his scars visible through the beard that doesn’t grow along them.

His gloved hand reaches toward you.

“You let me know if you need anything. Seriously. You know I watch out f’r you.” John squeezes your shoulder in a comforting manner.

You smile, brushing his hand from your shoulder, and reach around his shoulders to bring him into a hug, “Thank you, John.”

“You’re family to us.” You can feel him nod, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing gently.

“You tryin’ to butter me up to watch the baby?” You smirk as you unwind yourself from him, laughing.

John scratches the back of his head sheepishly, tilting his hat for a moment before resettling it, “I mean… an extra pair of womanly hands carin’ for a baby is always welcomed.”

“Think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

“Abigail thinks it’s a girl. Says she’s feelin’ different this time around.”

“And you?”

“I don’t do a lot of thinkin’… you know that.”

“You’re a silly man. Now go back up that hill and take care of your pregnant wife.”

“Mama.”

You crack one eye open. The sun has risen in the east, and the door to your bedroom is open wide, and a small shadow appears at your bedside.

“Susannah.”

“Mama please-”

You sigh, yawning before giving in, knowing you can’t win this fight, “C’mon now, come get into the bed.”

The girl giggles and dives under the blanket that you hold open. You wheeze as she climbs over you, a knee to your belly, a hand squishing your breast, and finally her small body curls in against you under the warm covers, and you blow away a few strands of sand-colored hair from your face as she tucks her head upon your breast. You close your eyes again as you wrap your arm around her, hoping she will fall back asleep with you.

Blessed silence.

“Mamaaaaa-”

Interrupted.

“Yes, dearest?” You sigh, but you can’t help but to smile as the small body next to yours squirms under the blanket.

“Tell me about the house by the waterfall again.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve told you about it four times this week.”

“But I wanna hear it again.”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, but start the story anyway, “You were born on a bright, sunny day… like today.”

She crawls up to look you in the face, “And everyone was there.”

“Yes, everyone was there. Abigail and Sadie and Missus Charlotte helped me bring you into the world, just like how I’m gonna help Abigail bring the new baby into the world in just a few days.”

You kiss her forehead, brushing the mess of her honeyed hair back. “And when you came, and you cried and cried, but it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.”

“Before you were born, your papa said he loved the name Susannah. That’s why you’ve got that name,” You poke her little nose and she giggles, just like every time you tell the story. What joy simple things bring to a child.

The songbird that perches outside your window chirps gaily. It sits outside most mornings, and you have grown accustomed to its song, greeting you in bed. A horse whinnies from outside and your daughter bolts upright, throwing the blanket off her body and half off of yours. In a jumble of limbs, she bolts out of the bedroom, “Mama, mama!”

“Susannah, mind your shoes!” you call as you climb out of the bed, but secretly you want to run as fast as your daughter as you find a robe and throw it over your nightgown. You know you just scolded her to put on her shoes, but you also forego anything on your feet as you hurry toward the thrown-open front door, where Susannah bounds out as fast as her little legs can take her.

“There she is!”

Oh, your heart. Oh, your world. You have to hold onto the doorframe as you watch your daughter dart from the front door across the grass to the hitching post, several strides away. The large horse, tied to the post, swings its head toward the joyful shouts of the child. From behind the horse’s rump, a figure strolls around, tall and strong and bursting with excitement.

He stoops down on one knee and catches Susannah as she throws herself into his embrace.

“How is my favorite girl?” He easily swings the child up into his arms, holding her out and twirling her in a circle before gathering her into his chest.

“I missed you so much, Papa.” She buries her head into his shoulder.

“I missed ya somethin’ awful, sweetpea.”

The man looks up at where you stand in the door and smiles. His dark beard is long, his hair unruly underneath that old gambler’s hat.

He marches toward the door, and when he’s a step away from you, he lets your daughter down, who immediately latches herself to his pants leg.

“Susannah, Go on and get dressed. Give your father a moment to wash up.”

She scrunches her little nose in mock irritation, but dutifully does so, scooting past you and into the house, leaving you and him alone in the threshold of the door.

“Missed you somethin’ awful too, darlin’.”

You smile as his hands find your hips, “You owe me, Arthur.”

Arthur snorts, and his lips press gently at your exposed neck, “For what, leavin’ you with the little one while I rode a cattle train all the way to Denver ‘nd back? Sounds like you got the better end of the deal.”

You lean forward in his embrace as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Think you should stay closer to home next time.” You muse as you close your eyes.

Arthur’s hand creeps up from your waist and cups one of your breasts, squeezing firmly. You squirm in his embrace, gasping.

“Stop - Susannah is right there, you-” You push his hand away from your chest but he only chuckles in your ear as he unwinds himself from you.

“I’m bringing her up to Abigail’s. She can watch ‘er for an hour or two.”

“You just got back-” You are cut off when his hand darts forward and grabs your rear through your robe and nightgown. You can barely keep yourself from squealing.

“Yeah, and I need to make love to my wife ‘til she can’t take it no more.” Arthur rumbles roughly into your ear with a tone of voice that goes straight to your cunt. You are unable to find the words to respond as he pulls back and nods, a smirk painted across his face.

“Gimme fifteen minutes. You better be naked in that bed when I get back, woman.”

You frown as he rights his hat back on his head.

“You know how obvious that is going to be?”

Arthur waves his hand dismissively, “You didn’t notice me takin’ Jack out on so many rides nine months ago?”

“Mama, can Jack take me for a ride on the pony?” Susannah darts past you, having changed into a cotton dress and thrown little boots on, her hair a disheveled mess.

“Ah, ah, come back here missy. Go get a ribbon and let me tie your hair up.” You scold, and your daughter scowls back at you with a nearly identical look before stomping back to her room.

Arthur chuckles, and your finger wags at him, “Don’t think I don’t know where she gets that from.”

“Her mother, exactly.”

“You son of a -”

Your daughter reappears and you close your mouth before cursing. She holds a ribbon out as she marches to you, turning around right in front of you so that you can reach her hair.

“Mind your mother, Miss Susannah.”

“Papa-”

“Or there won’t be any pony rides. I’ll tell Jack to have you clean out the pony’s stall today.” Arthur laughs, completely unable to be serious.

“Ew!” She shrieks, her hand darting upward to give you the ribbon. You laugh to yourself, taking the ribbon and gathering her hair into a ponytail, tying it up and over her head. Once secured to your liking, you gently tap her shoulder and she bounds toward Arthur, who immediately scoops her up into his arms again.

Arthur juggles the five-year-old onto his hip, to her joyous, shrieking laughter, “C’mon, let’s go up and save Jack from his daddy’s chores.”

As he opens the door to the cabin, Arthur glances back at you, his eyes darkening, “You best be ready when I get back.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly, a shiver goes down your spine at his implication. He gets like this - ravenous, hungry, passionate whenever he comes back from a cattle drive. As much as you hate the weeks alone, the amount of money Arthur brings home makes the ranch nearly abundant. Last year both John and Arthur went, and kept the families fed throughout the winter comfortably.

Of course, this year Abigail threatened to castrate John if he left her alone for six weeks at the end of her pregnancy… so this drive, Arthur went alone.

You pick up his mud-speckled leather coat, laying it over the wash bin. The sack of clothing Arthur left outside the door was sure to smell of a cattle herd - he was smart enough to leave it on the porch this time.

You make your way back to your bedroom, sighing as you idly rub your back. Your gaze catches the mirror above your bureau and you slowly walk toward it.

You stand in front of that mirror, pulling your nightgown up, up and over your knees, your thighs, your hips, your belly. You pull the fabric over your breasts and finally your head, holding it in one hand as you look at yourself.

There are no scars, just like that night standing in front of the fire in Valentine. There are no outward signs of what happened to you those years ago. Placing the nightgown atop your dresser, you glance in the mirror one last time. You see fuller hips, silvered lines at your belly, your breasts flatter against your chest.

A half smile comes across your face. No, the scars on your body were not from the O’Driscoll that raped you - they are from growing and birthing the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You look away from the mirror and let a breath out through your nose as you climb back into bed. Flopping back against the pillows, you smile to yourself as you wait for your husband’s return, naked in the marital bed as requested.

It is not several minutes more before you hear the front door slam and smile to yourself as you hear Arthur’s heavy gait beeline toward the bedroom.

The bedroom door swings open as Arthur barges in, and his hungry eyes immediately devour you whole as you recline into the pillows.

“Jesus Christ.” Arthur huffs, unable to move for a moment, staring at you. He pulls his hat from his head and chucks it to the floor.

“C’mon, ain’t known you to be one to keep your lady waitin,” you smirk, some of that old flirtation that you had at the beginning of your relationship shining through. You open your legs to bare your cunt, the dark hair parting as you spread your thighs further.

You’ve never seen him strip himself down faster. Boots tossed across the floor, his shirt thrown over the dresser haphazardly. He steps out of his pants and leaves them in a pile on the rug.

Fully nude, he climbs onto the bed, his hulking muscles undiminished by the years. Maybe, at first, in those months when he was bedridden at Willard’s Rest, where he slowly recovered from tuberculosis and you recovered from the ordeal of childbirth - was he a lesser man. But now? Now he was the Arthur you knew and loved - the Arthur who could tear men apart.

But you feel nothing but safe. You giggle as one of his hands immediately cups your cunt.

“Wife.”

You smile, your hands brushing down his shoulders to his biceps to his forearms.

“Husband.”

He parts your folds gently, rumbling as his other hand encircles his blood-hardened cock. He looms over you, and there is a secret sweet part of you that feels safe and protected underneath all of him.

“Sweetheart.”

He presses that trigger-worn finger inside you.

“Arthur-”

Your husband leans down and presses his lips against yours, his coarse beard tickling your chin as he begins to swirl and thrust that finger inside your cunt. You moan into his mouth as you begin to cant your hips, wanting more, more.

Arthur lets go of his cock to steady himself against your bucking, groaning at your desperation. His hard shaft smacks against your inner thigh and you mewl and gasp as he slides a second finger into your cunt. He begins to rut himself against the jointure of your thigh and hip, his cock settling in there as he prepares you, eases the way, ensures that he would never, ever hurt you.

God, you love this man so much.

He pulls his fingers from your body and immediately smears your slick on his shaft, the head of his cock already weeping. His eyes trail from his cock up your body to lock with yours.

You raise your arms, open wide, inviting him into your embrace and he smiles, knowing he is home. Arthur takes that hefty cock of his and lines it up with your cunt.

He grunts as he pushes into you, his head slipping inside as you whine; throwing your head back onto the pillow. He lowers himself down on top of you, plastering his entire body against you, and the two of you wind arms around each other’s boulders and your angles hook behind his back.

It’s slow, and full, as that first press inside always is. A strangled noise claws out of your throat as you dig your fingers into his back as those girthy inches stretch you. He rumbles against your neck as he works his way inside, his breath warm on your skin until he is hilted completely within you. He raises his head and kisses you headily.

Your bed is far more spacious than the small tent in Big Valley that saw your first coupling.

“Don’t know - how many times,” his breathless voice is interrupted by the frenzied kisses he gives you, “...I had to fist m’cock at night - thinkin’ of you and this perfect little cunt.”

Arthur begins to thrust his hips against yours, finding that rhythm perfected by years of experience together, “My perfect little wife-“

“Missed you so much, Arthur.” You throw your head back against the pillow as he continues to roll his hips against you, his cock dragging in and out, in and out of the vice grip of your cunt, “I love you so much -”

A particularly deep thrust makes you gasp and Arthur groans into your hair, panting as he continues his pace, “God, oh darlin’ -my darlin’ girl… I love you-”

He grabs your hand, pressing it down on the bed next to your head, interlacing your fingers as his pace slows, becomes more measured, deeper. The gold bands around your ring fingers make a soft clink against each other, nearly unheard among the sounds of lovemaking.

You cry out as he hits that spot within you again and again, sending you careening toward completion, the sensitivity of your channel making your legs shake and your breath hasten even more.

“Ar-Arthur- oh… I’m gonna-“ you whine breathlessly, squeezing your eyes shut as your husband groans in recognition.

“Come fer me, that’s it, come for me-” Arthur orders, throwing his hips roughly into yours in desperation, wanting, needing you to fall off the edge for him.

You cry out loudly as you throw your head back on the pillow, your hand squeezing his as the other claws into his back as you come, your entire body clenching as your arousal gushes around his cock.

“Yes, yes - oh, my perfect girl, oh-” Arthur praises you as you ride out your release, and gives three more heady strokes before he finds his own. You come down from your high just in time to dig your heels into his tailbone, the sign for him not to pull himself from your velvet heat.

His hips stutter, and he lets out a long breath as he stills, cock twitching as he comes inside you. You whine as you feel the warmth bloom in your core. He cuts off the sound from your throat by kissing you, hard and fast, needy and desperate.

“My…” he pants between kisses, “pretty little wife-”

You smile breathily against his lips, “My strong, handsome husband-”

The wet sound of lips meeting lips takes over for several moments before Arthur slides himself from your body, settling on his side next to you before laying his head upon your breast.

“Don’t go away for so long anymore. You gotta stay closer to home.” You muse as you run your fingers through his hair. The honey-blonde strands by his temple are peppered with grey- along with his too-long beard. Weeks in the saddle left your husband looking like a rugged mountain man whenever he returns. You’ll have to cut it later; it is growing longer than you like it.

He snorts playfully as he rolls off of you, sitting up on his elbow, facing you in the bed. With his other hand, he grabs the sheet that had been kicked away in the haste of lovemaking, pulling it up to pool around both of your waists.

You cannot help the smile that cracks across your face. You grasp his hand, his callused, rough hands that have built your home and provided for your family. The hands that rocked your daughter to sleep when she was a baby. The hands that keep you safe, warm, fed.

The hands that pulled you from your pit of misery those years ago. Maybe if that hadn’t happened - maybe - maybe that tawny-haired girl running around the house wouldn’t be here. Maybe Arthur would still be robbing and stealing and ushering himself to an early grave. Maybe he would have bled out on that mountain in Roanoke instead of being dragged out by John.

It hurts, still. Every so often on quiet nights, you awaken sweating and fearful and an O’Driscroll’s laugh echoes in your mind. But then - you turn into Arthur on those nights and he holds you through ‘til the morning. He whispers sweet nothings until you drift off again. He reminds you of his love for you, through words and touches and enveloping you in the most intimate of embraces. The circle of gold around his left ring finger, though tarnished as he never takes it off even when he works, still glints in the morning light.

And those nights that he’s out on the cattle trail? You pull yourself from your bed and pad quietly over to the other bedroom in the cabin, gazing through the sliver of the door partway open to see your daughter, born of struggle and the razor’s edge of that pain. How perfect she is. What joy she brings.

There will always be a part of you that O’Driscoll scarred you that night.

But maybe, just maybe - it fades, little by little over time.

Arthur playfully squeezes your hand in return, “Them weeks too long f’r my girl? Miss me that much, huh?”

You bring his hand up from where he holds yours to spread flat across your belly, and you lean toward him with a smile on your face and lightness in your heart.

Arthur Morgan’s eyebrow arches with confusion.

The songbird’s luted melody softly echoes through the window of your bedroom, the mid-morning light spilling out over your sheets, over your bodies in your warm, well-loved marital bed.

“No, silly man. I’m pregnant.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #twolafic #passerine #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic

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