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reidmotif · 4 months

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Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion.

Mine happened to be a badly placed window.

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold.

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers, and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be.

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him.

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep, so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last.

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence.

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon.

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means. I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was.

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas.

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact.

Him. The man in the window.

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod.

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other.

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice.

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately.

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit.

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin. “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient.

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds.

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion.

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names.

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment.

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands.

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex.

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me.

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right?

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor. I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do. I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win.

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties.

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this, literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach.

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow.

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right?

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks, the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit.

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own, mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer.

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation.

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for?

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered.

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come.

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do?

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything.

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes.

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep.

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave.

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me.

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to.

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed?

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost.

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that?

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever. If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly.

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it.

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.”

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief.

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs.

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body.

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly.

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.”

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him?

It was so fucking hot.

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?”

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth.

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.”

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there.

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.”

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me.

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation.

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.”

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer.

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem.

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me.

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm.

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder.

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?”

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?”

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?”

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.”

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit. “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.”

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.”

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

“Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip.

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday.

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted.

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

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beansprean · 11 months

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Breathing the same air…

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot inside Stede's bed nook, from the foot of the bed, the entire scene washed in shades of blue. Bright moonlight from the windows slants across the bed and wall above.A line of decorative pillows divides the bed down the center. Stede is sitting up in bed on the side by the window, wearing a nightshirt with a frilly collar. Ed, wearing a plainer nightshirt with a low neckline, parts the curtains briefly to slide hesitantly under the covers on the other side. He glances over at Stede and asks, "We can do this, right? Sharing a bed." Stede smiles reassuringly and replies, "Of course! We even have this handy-dandy pillow barrier to keep us honest! I will keep hands to myself, I promise!" He holds his hands up above the covers as if to prove it. If it wasn't 1717 he'd be saying 'scout's honor'. 1b. Zoom in slightly as Ed lays down on his side facing the pillow barrier and closes his eyes, tucking the blankets up to his chin. He grins into the pillow and chuckles, "Alright, well. G'night." Stede lays down on his back, arms folded on his stomach over top of the shared blanket, and aims a besotted smile toward the pillow between them. "Goodnight, love." The light from the window slants over Stede's shoulders and the top of Ed's head, just above his eyes. 1c. Close up of Ed's face, head buried in the plush pillow and blanket pulled up to his nose. Eyes closed, he inhales deeply. 1d. Repeat. Ed exhales, an anxious crease forming between his brows, and opens his eyes to gaze in Stede's direction, eyes shining up beneath his lashes.

2a. Shot from Ed's POV: the barrier of pillows, Stede's hair just barely visible beyond, and the slanted curtainless windows with a gibbous moon shining brightly in a clear sky. Stede breathes in - the only sound in the room. 2ba. Small angled panel with a close up of Ed, eyes softening fondly as he exhales on cue. 2bb. Repeat, panel falling down the page as Ed closes his eyes and drifts away, the light from the window crawling up the wall. 2bc. Repeat, zoom in, the panel halting its descent as a shuffling sound alerts Ed and his eyes fly open. 2c. Wide shot of Ed from above, the blanket turning transparent so you can see his whole body, curled up on its side with hands tucked up by his chin and right knee hiked up, nightshirt rucked up to mid-thigh. There is nothing but shadow and continued audible movement on the other side of the pillow wall where Ed can't see. He freezes, wide-eyed in the darkness, face flushed as his heart pounds loudly in anticipation. 2da. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's bent knee crosses the barrier and presses against Ed's. 2db. Close up of Ed's face in profile, cheeks dark, mouth trembling, sweat beading on his forehead as he stares at the pillow in front of him. He thinks to himself, panicking, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2dc. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's left foot sneaks over to brush its toes against the top of Ed's right. Ed thinks again, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2dd. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's left hand slides over to tuck a pinkie over Ed's curled right hand. Ed thinks again, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2de. Repeat. Ed's right hand turns palm up, allowing Stede's pinky and ring finger to slide into its palm.

3a. Wide shot from Stede's direction, movement ceased. Ed's face appears, wide-eyed and flushed, as he lifts his head to peek slightly above the wall of pillows. Ed thinks, "...he settled?" 3b. Close up of their hands again beneath the covers, Stede's gone still. Ed curls up his fingers, linking his pointer and middle fingers between Stede's ring finger and pinkie. Ed inhales, and Stede exhales. 3c. Close up of Ed's face, tucked into the plush pillow with the blanket pulled up to his chin. He smiles, eyes warm and full of affection as he inhales deeply. 3d. Shot from above, blanket and pillow wall turned transparent so full bodies are visible. Ed is curled up on his side just as before, hair spilling over the pillow and eyes closed. Stede has sprawled onto his stomach, right leg out straight and left hiked up underneath the pillow wall to press against Ed's. His right arm is flopped above his head and his left has migrated over to Ed's side, fingers linked together. Stede is fully asleep, mouth wide open and drooling. Moonlight from the window slants up the wall, far above them now, and they exhale the same air together. /end ID

#ofmd #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #stedward #mlm #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #my art #fanart #image described

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ohproserpine · 7 months

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vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

#im sorry for the shitty filler chapter :(( this was for the pacing and so i can prepare yall for the next chapter #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette

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elromoro · 2 months

Text

Late Night Thoughts

Scenario: Imagine Bakugou Katsuki sneaking into your dorm when his thoughts become just a little bit too much to handle alone?

Warnings: cursing, but aside from that, none! Just tooth rotting fluff and Bakugou being his usual self.

The night is a quiet one, the full moon hung high in the murky sky, shining bright lunar rays between the slopes of your balcony curtains. There isn’t a sound to be heard, well, save for the rythmic chirping of crickets outside, and the occasional rustle of fabric when you shifted within slumbers grasp, and—

BANG, BANG, BANG.

You’re suddenly startled from the peaceful realm of dreams by the loud hammer of a fist against your sliding glass door. For a moment, you thought you’d simply imagined the noise, after all, it was almost 3 A.M., surely no one was awake at this ungodly hour, right? That rationalization was quickly squashed by an all too familiar gruff voice, spouting muffled demands.

“Goddamnit you little shit, open up!” That familiar voice bellowed, loud even with a barrier of glass between the both of you. The demand was fallowed by a series of loud banging.

You winced against your cushy pillows, already imagining the scolding you’d receive from Momo tomorrow for the noise. With a soft groan, you shuffled within the snuggly comfort of your comforter, the cushy article slipping down your form when you slung your legs over the side of your bed. With a quick adjustment of your slipping nightwear, you stumble over to your balcony slider, swatting away flowy curtains.

None other than Bakugou Katsuki stands on your balcony, clad in a black tank top and a pair of baggy sweat pants, his usual scowl imprinted heavily on his face. For a moment, you simply stared at him, attempting to find a reason why in the hell he’d be paying you a visit so late, if at all. When he wasn’t immediately given entry, the explosive blonde bristled like a feral feline.

“You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna let me in, dipshit?” He huffed, pointedly whacking a palm against your slider.

With a tired sigh, you flicked the lock latch of your slider, pulling lacy curtains aside before pulling the slider open with an umph of effort. He shouldered past you when entry was given, stomping his way into your dorm room. After heaving the slider shut once more, you turned to face him.

“Why’re you here, Bakugou? It’s almost three in the damn morning. Usually, sane people are asleep by now.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, arching your brow at him.

Bakugou passes you a mildly annoyed look at your questioning, already a crass remark on the end of his tongue. But, for once, he restrained himself if only entirely because you were humoring him, “…Couldn’t sleep. Thoughts are too damn loud.” He grunted, crimson eyes flicking to study your carpet.

You press your lips into a thin line at his vague admission, eyes swiping over his form. He had bags under his eyes, you noted. You hum, “Thoughts about what?”

“None of your damn business.” He snaps almost immediately. Admittedly, It was bold of you to assume Bakugou would allow you insight to his turbulent mind. His reaction was as expected, though you didn’t fully regret asking.

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet against the grains of your carpet, “…just…I’m staying over.” He didn’t ask, he said it as a statement.

You simply sigh, stepping away from him to sink back onto your bed, “Fine, but you better not have been caught by Aizawa. I’m not getting put on house arrest because of you. I’d never hear the end of it from Iida.”

Bakugou grumbled, inching step by step toward the end of your bed, where he sat almost hesitantly, “Tch, like I’d let that sleepy headed geezer catch me.”

“Don’t talk about our teacher like that.” You scolded.

He bristled, lip jutting out petulantly, “Whatever.” With that, he flopped down boldly onto your bed as if he owned it, resting his arms behind his head, crimson eyes taring up at the ceiling contemplatively.

You quirked a brow, back turning awkwardly to allow you to gaze at his pinched face, “So are you planing on giving me my bed back or—“

“Shut up and just talk until I fall asleep.” He grunted.

You breathed a snort through your nose, giving him a look, “What? What do you even want me to talk about?” You asked bewilderedly.

He passed you a grumpy glare, “I don’t know, figure it out.” He replied gruffly.

You crossed your arms, pursing your lips, he had the gall to forcefully enter your space without explanation, and then demand things left and right from you. Not that you were particularly surprised, it was a very Bakugou thing to do. With a sigh, you settled beside him on your bed, careful to keep a distance between the two of you, lest you cross a boundary.

After a long moment of silence, you smiled to yourself, “You wanna bed time story?”

Bakugou craned his neck to give you another ticked off look, “Do you think I’m five?”

It was your turn to pass him a look of your own, your face a signature deadpan, “You didn’t specify what you wanted me to talk about, don’t be picky.”

He paused, before huffing, turning his head back to peer up at the ceiling, “Fine, tell your damn bed time story.” He grumbled irritably.

You cleared your throat dramatically, putting on a theatric tone, gesturing wildly with your hands, “Once upon a time, there was a boy with a bomb—“

Bakugou scoffed, “What the hell kind of story begins with that?”

You clucked your tongue, swatting at his bicep, “Don’t interrupt me.”

He just huffed in response.

“Once upon a time,” you began again, “there was a boy with a bomb lodged so far between his ass cheeks—“

“Where the fuck is this going?” He was looking at you again, his eyes narrowed, brows narrowed.

“For someone trying to go to sleep, you sure do interrupt a lot.” You snipe.

Bakugou clicks his tongue, sighing through his nose, but allows you to continue.

You continue, “The bomb was lodged so far between his ass cheeks, that he was a jerk to everyone around him. And then, one day, he sat down just a bit too hard, and— POOF, he exploded, just like that. The end.” You finished, allowing your palms to flop at your sides.

“That was a shit story.” He grunted, attempting to force down the slightly amused curl of his lips.

“Yeah, well, the boy was actually based off of you.” You reply.

Bakugou felt a surge of irritation surge in his chest, as well as a infuriating warmth that he wrote off as annoyance. No one ever dared to speak to him with such blatant disrespect and sass, except you. And despite himself, he was begrudgingly amused. Your little story was stupid and needlessly vulgar, but it was…endearing, in a way.

“Say shit like that again and see what happens.” He huffed in a lacking attempt to keep up his usual abrasiveness.

You almost rolled your eyes so hard they fell out of your head, “Again, you didn’t specify what you wanted to hear.”

Bakugou grunted, rolling onto his side to face you, elbow propped under his cheek, crimson eyes not looking at you, but his fingers twirling the fabric of your sheets, “Whatever, your story was still shit.”

A beat of silence passed between you both, but Bakugou found that it wasn’t one of the usual suffocatingly uncomfortable silences that he was used to. It hung between you for a while, until Bakugou surprised even himself by murmuring softly, “Tell another.” His cheeks flared a pink hue that was thankfully concealed by the dimness of your room, or at least he hoped that it was.

Your eyes flicked to him in slight surprise, before you hummed, “Requesting an encore performance, huh? I’m surprised, that one’s usually my show stopper.”

Bakugou huffed, shuffling just a bit closer as a draft wafted through the walls of your dorm, “Just do it.” He huffed, irritation and a twinge of hope that you’d obey his seemingly never ending demands.

Another silence feel between you both, your brows narrowing in thought. You didn’t seem to notice the way that his pinky inched toward yours.

After a moment, you chuckled sheepishly, shrugging, “Nah, I’m creatively tapped.”

Bakugou would by lying if he said he wasn’t slightly disappointed. His pinky curled, slinking away from your own.

Suddenly, you snapped your fingers, drawing crimson eyes, “Nevermind, here we go.”

Bakugou snorted through his nose, but his eyes remained stuck to your face as you began another of your no doubt stupid stories.

“Once upon a time—“

“What’s with the once upon a time shit?” He grunted. Maybe he was being purposely difficult, but he liked the way you reacted to his ribbing.

You gave him a look, pointing at him with an accusing finger, “You got a problem with the words “once upon a time”? What, are you allergic to magic and whimsy?”

“Whimsy is for idiots, like you.” He replied, chuckling at his own wit.

“Wow, okay, mean.” You huffed.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, boo hoo, you only think it’s mean because I’m being honest.”

You gestured to yourself with a thumb, “Am I able to tell my story or what?”

Bakugou grumbled, “Tch, go ahead.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” you passed him a look, “Once upon a time, there was a unicorn—“

Bakugou snickered, “A unicorn? Really? Fucking lame.”

You have him a look, “Unicorns are not lame. And I’ll have you know, this unicorn is a badass, he’s the toughest and baddest unicorn there ever was.”

Bakugous pinky inched even further toward your own, a hairs distance between them, “Yeah, I’m sure he was the unicorn Messiah.” He retorted.

You passed him a glare, “Anways,” you continued, “His name was notsuki knockoffgou, he was the strongest unicorn in all the unicorn land, he conquered monster after monster, but for every monster he took down, one thing remained the same. He was lonely.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, gaze falling away from your face, “…sounds like he’s a stupid unicorn.”

You grumbled under your breath about his comment, but continued nonetheless, that mischievous curl in your lips told him all he needed to know about where this story was heading, “So one day, the lonely unicorn tried to romance some unicorn babes. But you know what? They all thought he was mean and lame because he had no rizz—“

“Rizz? Are you high?” Bakugou asked gruffly.

You blew a raspberry, “No, I’m perfectly sober thank you very much. I’ve been hanging out with Kaminari, sue me.”

Bakugou grimaced, “Well stop, he’ll rot your brain, you’re already dumb enough.”

“Anyway, the unicorn then exploded, because of his chronic lack of unicorn bitches. The end.” You finished with a self satisfied nod.

Bakugou stared, a chuckle bubbling in his throat that he swallowed down, “That was worse than the other one. Why the hell do your stories always end with an explosion?” He grunted.

You shrugged your shoulders, “It’s my signature gimmick. And besides, you know you loved it. I’m an amazing story teller.”

Bakugou huffed, “Sure, in your own head.” Though a smidge of his repressed amusement bled into his tone.

Finally finding the nerve, his pinky surged forward, curling around your own in a gentle but tight hold. He refused to meet your gaze, snapping his eyes shut tight. Your hand was warm, and your skin was soft, his mind was already working to memorize the sensation.

Your gaze flicked down to your now linked pinkies, cheeks dusting a soft pink. After a moment, a soft, genuine smile curled the edges of your lips. You allowed your pinky to curl around his own in turn, savoring the small yet strangely intimate feeling contact.

Bakugou valiantly attempted to will the flush of his cheeks down, lest you somehow see his flush through the dim murk of nightly shadows, “Whatever, shut up, I’m going to sleep.”

You chuckled softly, giving his pinky a gentle squeeze, “Okay, night Katsuki.” You hummed softly.

A beat of silence passed, and then, almost a whisper, “Night Y/n.”

Bakugou didn’t tell you, but that night, his turbulent mind was blessedly silent, and his heart was overwhelmingly full.

#anime #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #one shot #my fic #fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou #cute

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writerpeach · 1 year

Text

Insatiable

IVE Yujin x m!reader

17k+ words

Part two of Overindulgent

---

Read on AFF

You shouldn’t have slept in so late.

The sun’s been up for hours now, but you’ve tried your best to ignore it piercing through the curtains. It doesn’t help that you’re all wrapped up in sheets that don’t even belong to you—sheets that still smell like last night, that smell just like Yujin. You don’t even know what time it is, and if you were to check your phone right now, you’d see at least a dozen snoozed alarms. It’s late enough that you know you’ve already missed your first class, and if you don’t leave the sheets, you’ll miss your second. But you can’t be bothered to move a muscle when you’re so comfortable, so warm, so enveloped in Yujin’s warm embrace.

Sleeping the entire day away sounds like a great option, but you can feel Yujin stirring awake as evident from the gentle kiss she plants on your cheek. You don't want to wake up. The only thing you want is to fall back asleep and ignore everything.

It’s not like you’d miss anything important, but Yujin remains persistent, with soft lips peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses that are much too tender for you to resist.

"Yujin, it’s too early," you mumble, voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s almost noon. Did I wear daddy out too much?” Yujin asks, with sleep still caught in her voice, and you can hear the way she’s smiling without even looking at her beautiful face.

“Noon is still early. Let me sleep.”

Your request falls on deaf ears, because Yujin continues her assault of affection and you can feel her arms pulling you closer to her warm body. You try to suppress the groan that bubbles up in your throat when her lips find that one spot behind your ear, that one spot that has the best chance of waking you up and getting you going.

"What do I get in return?" she teases, and you can hear her cute giggles.

“Nothing,” you reply, without missing a beat.

"Not even a kiss?"

"No."

"That's not fair, daddy,” Yujin whines and squeezes you tighter, burying her head into your neck to inhale your scent before kissing your skin all over again. You want to protest again, but those lips are doing wonders against your body and she's doing everything she can to get you to wake up.

Yujin is relentless, but just like her younger roommate Wonyoung, always ends up getting what she wants, anyway. So you give in, grumpier than ever, and roll over to face her, putting down all your barriers. “One kiss.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Yujin just grins, leans forward to seal your lips with hers, then kisses your cheek, your forehead, and the tip of your nose.

“I said one—“

“That was one kiss. One kiss on each part of daddy’s cute face.”

You want to roll your eyes at her, but Yujin’s so goddamn adorable this early in the morning, like waking up to a puppy staring at you, that you can’t possibly stay annoyed for long.

“Fine. I‘ll get up.” It doesn't take much to convince you when it's her, so reluctantly you get out of bed with Yujin attached to your arm, rubbing your sore muscles with a gentle touch. You’re still in her bedroom, so it doesn’t take long for you to spot the pile of discarded clothes scattered across the floor, but you only bother to grab your shirt, since you’ve slept in your boxers, and pull it over your head, just enough to make yourself look presentable.

Yujin giggles behind you, and you give a still sleepy glance at her over your shoulder, watching the pretty smile on her face extend in a way that brings you out of your sleep-fueled daze. She kisses your neck one last time, then disappears inside her giant closet, re-emerging in a tank top and the shortest booty shorts you've ever seen on her. Yujin's never had much of a problem of showing herself off, which is a blessing because that sculpted body of hers is something else.

“Stop staring, daddy,” she playfully says, but you know she loves the attention, and she could have picked any other outfit than something that leaves so little to the imagination.

“You wanted me awake, now I’m awake.” You don’t even try to hide the way your eyes wander her body, how her top barely covers up her midriff, and how those black shorts ride up and hug the soft flesh of her cheeks so well. There’s nothing sexier than Yujin’s confidence, which fuels your gaze that continues to be shameless, mapping out the curves of her body, and you can’t look away for a second, not when Yujin puts herself on display like this.

“I’ll go make some coffee, daddy.”

Yujin spins on her heels and gives you an even better view of that plump backside that practically swallows up the tiny shorts that serve to highlight the fullness of her thighs. Her tight butt bounces with every step, and it’s downright mesmerizing as she makes her way downstairs towards the kitchen. You're following right behind, eyes glued to Yujin’s delicious body, to the way those wide hips sway—and it’s way too early to be drooling over her like this, but you can’t help it.

When you take a seat at the kitchen island, Yujin pulls out two coffee mugs out from the cabinet and starts the process of grinding the coffee beans. Before you met her, you survived off the cheap stuff from the cafeteria, because you don’t know the first thing about making coffee (it tasted horrendous but got the job done). Still, watching the way Yujin goes through the routine, it’s all very meticulous and fascinating at the same time, how effortlessly it all seems when she’s filled the room with the rich scent of fresh coffee. After only a few minutes, the entire process is done, and Yujin is expertly pouring brewed coffee into your mug from a French press, like she’s been doing this her whole life. It feels so domestic, and it’s a wonderful start to the day.

“Here you go, daddy." Yujin places the warm mug in front of you, then puts a couple sugar cubes in it to add just a little sweetness, stirring it with a smile. She knows your tastes perfectly by now, and even though you’re always teased for how you take your coffee, you’d drink it black if you had to, just because she’s the one to make it.

The first sip is like heaven, but you don’t expect anything less, and it has you closing your eyes, leaning back in your chair with a deep sigh of appreciation.

“Thank you,” you say, taking another sip of the rich beverage as Yujin settles herself right beside you. “It’s delicious.”

Yujin doesn’t even bother to sip from her own mug, instead basking in the steam’s aroma, and she’s more interested in watching you drink, watching the enjoyment in your eyes after every sip. You drink your coffee with the littlest of sips, both to savor the taste, and to not burn your tongue while you cradle your mug, waiting for it to become a more acceptable temperature.

"You know what would be even more delicious?" Yujin asks, nuzzling her face into your neck, and you’re almost scared to answer her, because you already know where this is going.

“No, I don’t,” you say with much hesitation. “What?” The last word rolls off your tongue with feigned ignorance, but you already know what Yujin is about to say as you take another sip.

“Breakfast. Do you want some breakfast, daddy?”

While it might be worded like one, you know it’s not an innocent question.

Waiting for her to drop the pretense, the grip on your mug tightens at Yujin’s words. Before you can bother responding, Yujin steals your mug and moves it away from the edge of the counter, hopping up to take its place on the island herself.

“I’ve got something daddy loves to eat,” Yujin purrs, with a smirk that tugs on the corners of her lips. Her thighs spread apart on the counter, those ridiculous long legs dangling off the island, and those shorts look so thin without any underwear underneath that you can clearly make out the outline of her cunt.

“I’ve barely started drinking my coffee,” you say with false annoyance, as you try not to salivate, yet all you can do is envision yourself in between those thick thighs, squeezing your head enough to deprive you of air.

“But don’t I taste better?” Yujin tries to entice you by rubbing her inner thighs, trying to lure you towards what she has planned. For now, you resist, remaining calm in your chair, sipping on your coffee and doing everything to deny Yujin’s seductive advances.

Ignoring her question is the only real option here, even while she’s tantalizing you with those legs spread so obscenely wide, it’s impossible not to stare. You’ll fold eventually, but you have to pretend that you have the upper hand. Yujin knows you too well by now, knows what works and what doesn’t, so she tries another approach, knowing you can’t stop staring at those alluring legs that activate all the right spots in your brain.

During your next sip, you feel Yujin’s feet caressing your crotch through your boxers, while her toes flex around your hardening shaft that causes you to nearly choke on your coffee. Yujin knows how to apply the right amount of friction to get your full attention, and the moment those gorgeous soles are teasing your growing cock, you’ve lost all interest in your coffee.

Yujin doesn’t say a word. She just playfully wiggles her toes around your length, squeezing it a little harder, adding just a little more friction. It takes a moment to compose yourself, gripping the edge of the chair tight and taking a deep breath, knowing you can’t do anything but succumb to her teasing feet that press into the bulge against your boxers.

She knows she has you now. Yujin knows she has you wrapped around her little finger, that you’ll worship every part of her, from head to toe, and then you’ll do it all over again.

If you’re not careful, Yujin’s going to make you explode, but that’s not exactly your choice to make.

“If daddy doesn’t wanna have me for breakfast, then I guess I’ll just have to keep playing with your cock like this. But I’m not gonna make you cum. Not gonna let you get even close, not until you taste me.”

It’s amazing how her words are both bratty and commanding at the same time. You know Yujin isn’t going to stop rubbing those pretty little toes all over your cock until you’re crumbling beneath her, because she’s only interested in what she wants—and what she wants is watching you squirm.

This is only the start. It's only going to get worse and worse, and you’re already trying so hard not to moan, trying hard not to stain your boxers. Resisting is all so pointless, so futile, because Yujin has this chapter written, and you’re just hoping it doesn’t end with a cliffhanger.

“You want more of this, don’t you? I know how much daddy wants me. Wanna feel my toes in your mouth so bad, don’t you? Or do you wanna rip these shorts off me and take me right here?”

It’s frustrating how good Yujin is at teasing you, how she always has the upper hand, and knows that in her presence, you’ll never say no to her. Your defenses break down bit by bit, and even through the thin material of your underwear, the pressure on your aching cock becomes too much to bear. You’re falling apart at the seams, and there’s no way to stop the thread from unraveling.

In the end, all that resistance was just an illusion, and you cave in, because of course you do. You’re dying to get your hands on Yujin, to taste every part of her, to rip those clothes off that she just put on. Yujin knows you better than you know yourself. And you don’t care how weak it makes you, because you’re hungry, you’re famished, not for breakfast, but for Yujin herself.

Ever so slowly, you lift one of those pretty feet from your crotch, bringing it to your mouth, and plant gentle kisses all over the soft sole of her foot, from her heel, to the middle of her high arch, then every one of her toes gets attention, from the big toe, all the way down to her small toe, and nothing gets left out. Yujin giggles with each kiss, while you give her what she wants, and she loves this part—she loves getting pampered by you, loves watching you worship her feet, especially when she has your undivided attention.

So as you pepper kisses along the length of her lengthy sole, Yujin keeps her other foot wrapped around your shaft, still massaging your needy cock through your boxers, and it’s obvious how much you needed this.

"You’re so hard," Yujin murmurs, her toes curling around your swelling tip, and bites her bottom lip in anticipation as you lick along her foot, your hungry, wet tongue, painting stripes along the bottom of her pretty sole. You trace her delicate foot from heel up to her toes, savoring the taste, and pressing your face against it before taking a deep inhale.

“God, Yujin,” you desperately groan, and you can smell her distinct scent even with your eyes closed. “Every part of you is just perfect.”

It's sweet, like vanilla, with a little hint of musk from sweat that you lick up, the salty flavor adding to your desire to worship Yujin. You continue your devotion to those priceless feet, switching from left to right, and running your tongue over Yujin's cute toes, tasting them one by one. It’s such an indulgent, shameless act, but she looks so relaxed while you lick all over her perfect, smooth soles, toes curling when you suck on them between your lips, coating them with your saliva, and god—you could just do this for hours.

“That feels fantastic, daddy,” Yujin says, and stops teasing you just long enough to press both feet against your face, letting you have your fill, as she enjoys watching you kiss, lick, and worship them. Her soles rub all over your mouth and chin, the tip of her toes indulging your eager tongue before her feet part to let you lick them both clean, and then you’re taking as many of those toes into your mouth as will fit, moaning as you suck on them, until you’re completely lost in savoring every inch of perfection.

It's a sight to behold, and Yujin is enjoying every second of it.

And then you’re in for one more round of vigorous worship, slobbering on Yujin’s soles, slurping on her toes, getting to taste as much of her pristine feet as you can, before her toes slip from between your lips with a loud, messy pop. You’ve hardly had enough, pressing both soles to either side of your face, which makes her smile at the lewd look of bliss that takes over, as you take another deep whiff, completely intoxicated by her utterly divine feet that deserve every bit of attention.

It’s out of the realm of possibility to think straight when you have Yujin up on a pedestal, with that body just waiting to be devoured, and it’s not enough now that you’ve been serving at the church of Yujin for the past several moments, transformed into a ravenous animal, left with an uncomfortable erection in your boxers that she needs to take responsibility for—

You’re going to do just that when you get out of your chair, pulling Yujin’s body towards you so her ass sits right on the edge of the island, and yank her shorts down, taking a moment to appreciate her pretty, bare cunt. There’s a bit of surprise on her face when you take the initiative, but you’re not letting a single second go to waste before you’re kissing her thighs with the same fervor, rubbing your face into the soft, supple flesh, licking them, biting them, listening to how she gasps when you’re tasting her sensitive skin.

Your cock continues to throb with anticipation, and you can’t hold yourself back, because there’s a fire that’s been lit inside you.

Yujin bites her lip hard, stifling a whimper as she looks down to watch you bury your head in between her legs. You continue licking along her inner thighs, working your way up, but never going where she wants you to most. It’s a slow process, turning the tables and teasing Yujin, savoring the taste of her thighs while her gorgeous pussy glistens, begging for attention, clit throbbing in need of your tongue.

“Daddy, no more teasing,” she pleads, but you’re not going to listen, even while her hands guide your head, you’re intent on kissing her thighs, leaving behind little love bites that have her squirming on the kitchen counter. Yujin lets out an adorable, frustrated little whine, but you pay her no attention as you run your tongue along the soft flesh of her thigh, dangerously close to her pussy.

“Yujin, you’ve gotten me this fucking hard, so you’re going to wait,” you say, looking up to watch the reaction on her face every time you plant your lips on her soft skin.

“No, daddy, I can’t. I’m so fucking wet,” Yujin says with a breathless, needy whine, and she parts her folds with two fingers to give you a better look. “Need you to taste me, need your mouth on my cunt. Right now, daddy.”

You’re trying to keep it all up, keep whatever semblance of control you have, but Yujin keeps touching herself in front of you, letting you see how wet she is, how ready she is to take your cock. After all you’ve done, you falter, because you can’t wait either, and you’re just as zealous to feast on her cunt.

It’s embarrassing how you’re falling back on your words, but who could blame you when you’ve been treated to such a delicious-looking meal inches in front of your face? So without a second thought, you dive in, tongue first, finally pressing your mouth against Yujin’s needy little cunt, and she lets out a gasp of relief when you’re tasting her slit.

Her pussy is already soaking wet for you, and it only takes one more lick before Yujin’s a whimpering mess, clutching on to the end of the counter as you work your tongue inside her, gathering up her sweet juices that spill out to keep your tongue satiated.

“Daddy, fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, need you to eat my pussy,” Yujin says, and she’s torn between begging for more, and taking it, but the way she’s threading her fingers through your hair lets you know which route she’s about to take. Either way, you’re not about to stop lapping at her pussy when she takes control, pulls your face in deeper, and she’s guiding your head between her spread legs, urging you to lick every last inch of her.

It only gets better when those immaculate, supple thighs shut around your head, trapping you in place. And it doesn’t even matter that you can’t even breathe, because you don’t need air, not when you have Yujin to breathe in, and she keeps you right where she wants you. Her thighs feel soft and warm, so utterly divine that when they press against the sides of your face while you devour her, you’re in absolute nirvana.

Yujin’s taste is nothing but intoxicating, so dangerously sweet that you can’t help but drink up every drop that spills from her perfect cunt, and you’re going to eat her out like she deserves, like your entire purpose in life is to make her feel good. You’re a mere mortal in comparison, and you’ll keep devouring her pussy until she cums on your face as many times as she pleases, because that’s the least you can do for a goddess like her.

"Yujin, you taste so fucking good," you groan, burying your tongue in her silky folds. She lets out a little yelp when you drag your tongue up her slit, and suck her clit into your mouth, flicking the tip of your tongue across it. Yujin keeps tugging at your hair, desperate to force your tongue deeper inside, and she doesn’t care if she chokes you with her thighs—and you’ll welcome it.

Your mouth is so fucking wet, but you’re still insatiable for more, because your tongue just can’t get enough of Yujin’s juices, a thirst that will never be quenched. Yujin dictates every little move you make, from how fast your tongue moves inside her, to how often she lets you come up for air, which matters little when all you can breathe is her heavenly arousal. She keeps her thighs locked around your head, a position you never want to escape from, wanting to stay trapped in that suffocating warmth as you keep your lips locked around her clit, and you’ll eat Yujin out for eternity if she lets you.

"Fuck,” Yujin says, letting a single syllable of her satisfaction slip out between moans. “You’re so good, so good at that daddy. Need you to keep eating me like this. Need you to make me cum.”

You’ll listen to anything she demands at this point, even as she’s whining and whimpering, while you explore every bit of her soaked folds, sucking hard on her clit, and you’re long past addicted to every drop that fills your lips. This is all familiar, you’ve done this enough times that you can do in your sleep, so you know how to get Yujin to the finish line and then some—but you also know that Yujin’s satisfaction never comes after just one orgasm. You’re going to keep your tongue buried between Yujin’s thighs, going to keep sucking on her clit, and even if your jaw gets sore, you won’t stop, not until she’s begging you to.

It may not get to that point, when the moment Yujin arches her back off the counter, her thighs start quivering with anticipation, and you know she can’t hold on much longer. Your mouth works overtime to draw out that much desired release, as the grip on your hair becomes so tight, so unrelenting, that you’ve done everything right when her fingernails dig into your scalp. Nothing’s going to stop her from climaxing, from making an absolute mess on your face, and you’re welcoming it all, licking her sweet pussy like your life depends on it.

“Daddy, I’m gonna—fuck!“ Yujin cries out, and then she’s convulsing on the counter, letting out the prettiest whines and moans as she cums, she cums hard on your face and her thighs begin violently shaking around your head, while you’re drinking up as much of it as you can.

With you slurping all the juices from her sensitive pussy, Yujin lets out the prettiest whines, gasping for air as she squirms on the kitchen counter, unable to remain still, unable to do anything but ride it all out. She keeps her thighs wrapped around your head, because she doesn’t want you to stop licking her soaking wet folds, and you wouldn't dream of denying her more bliss.

“Make me cum again, daddy. Make me cum again on your cute face,” she demands, and you’re happy to oblige her without hesitation. Not that you have much of a choice with your face pressed into her messy cunt, but you’re still eager to deliver more pleasure until her toes curl tighter, and her entire body shudders from the blissful waves of another orgasm crashing into her.

Now that you’ve gotten that sensitivity going, the second time Yujin cums it’s just as beautiful, even if it doesn’t last as long. You’re almost disappointed when the pressure around your head releases, because you’ve grown accustomed to inhaling the scent of Yujin’s pussy for what feels like forever. But when her thighs spread open for worship once more, and you lick them clean, she flashes you a look that you know means she’s not even close to being satisfied. It’s a look you know all too well.

“Daddy got to have his breakfast, so now it’s time for mine.”

Not even taking a moment to let her stamina refill, Yujin hops off the counter and palms your bulge. She makes short work of your underwear as it falls to your ankles, and your cock is already twitching for attention that she gives right away, stroking with slow, methodical pumps as she captures you in her sultry gaze.

The last of your patience runs thin, but Yujin's ran out long ago.

You’re dying to be balls deep inside her, and the feeling is mutual for her. There’s no more waiting to be dealt with as she grabs the hem of her tank top, yanking It over her head, and you follow in her footsteps until you’re both stripped of your clothes, standing bare ass naked in the middle of the kitchen.

There's only a moment to appreciate the parts of her body that you’ve yet to worship, how perfect those breasts look before her hands are already back on your cock, pumping with a tight enough grip to almost hurt. You take the chance to get your mouth on her tits, sucking on her taut nipples, swirling your tongue around while she pumps you, until Yujin releases your cock and leans back on the counter. Yujin is just so damn perfect, and you keep showing that by kissing her abs in just the right places, moving down to the curve of her hips, then back up her chest, peppering along her collarbone.

Yujin stops you when you get up to her neck and has this glint in her eye that can’t be ignored. “Fuck me, daddy. Right here, right now. Wanna feel your big cock in my little cunt, and then—“

The rest is a mystery as Yujin breaks eye contact long enough to spin around, bending over the counter to present you with an irresistible view of her tight ass. You can see the wetness glistening along her folds at this angle, and it’s impossible to hide how desperate you are to bury your aching cock in her cunt. It doesn’t help the way Yujin shakes her ass at you, tempting you with those full cheeks that would have you on your knees if not for how badly she needs to be fucked.

“Daddy,” Yujin growls, sounding more like a warning as she flashes a look over her shoulder that’s a silent message for you to get inside her, right now.

Almost as soon as you line up behind Yujin's body, she grabs the base of your shaft, guiding it between her legs, and takes away any chance to savor that initial penetration when she presses it against her slick opening.

It's overwhelming the way your cockhead slips between that silky flesh, parting those pretty wet folds and Yujin at least lets you do the rest, sinking inch after inch, until there’s no part of you left to bury inside her.

Yujin’s incredibly tight, but always feels so warm and welcoming, and there’s no need to take things slow, not when she’s all out of patience, pushing her ass back to meet you. It’s a signal heard loud and clear. When you grab her wide hips, your shaft plunges inside that familiar heat, and the grip her velvety walls offer is so fucking good it makes your mind go numb as you start to move faster inside her.

“Fuck, there you go, daddy. Pound me, pound my little cunt, make me feel full,” Yujin says, like that wasn’t always the plan from the start. There’s no way your thrusts are anything but deep and unforgiving, bottoming her out in no time, and she takes you so well, so effortlessly, that you’re the one having trouble adjusting instead of her.

“Yujin,” you start to say, but the way her pussy stretches around your cock, allowing you free rein to give her a proper dickdown leaves your mind blank. There’s nothing of importance to say other than how perfect she feels, or how good you want to make her feel, so you’ll just shut up and keep pounding her tight cunt.

You’re already hitting so deep, your cockhead kissing her insides, and it has you falling into a quick, powerful tempo that leaves Yujin clutching the edges of the counter for support. It’s a view that’s only made better when Yujin looks back, letting you see the deep lust in her eyes, the kind that’ll keep your hips moving until they give out. It’s everything you love about this position, letting you appreciate the best parts of Yujin’s body, particularly the way that thick ass jiggles when your hips meet, when she pushes back against you and matches your own pace.

Despite the fact that you’re, in theory, the one in control, Yujin is guiding the reins, demanding you fuck her harder, digging her nails into your thigh when your cock doesn’t move as fast as she likes, when it doesn’t rearrange her guts hard enough. There’s no doubt she’s calling the shots, there never was, and the little glances she gives over her shoulder serve as a stark reminder to pound her pussy without her telling you to.

You match Yujin’s groans with every thrust you make, burying your cock so deep inside her warmth, and holding such a tight grip on those flawless hips she’ll bruise no doubt, but she doesn’t even care—Yujin just wants you to keep this pace up, keep pulling her back whenever you ram inside her. She can take your cock so well, even as your pace grows erratic by her orders, but you never let up, because she needs your cock like air, needs to be stretched like her perfect little cunt deserves.

And you’re going to listen to whatever Yujin says, even as your hips start to burn from drilling her cunt so hard, putting every amount of force into your thrusts until she’ll feel it in the next morning. You're already so fucking close with how much she clenches around your cock, but you have to last until she's satisfied, until she’s screaming your name.

But that won’t be long, because Yujin is so fucking wet, and you can see the puddle between her legs that only grows, only serves as more evidence of how good a pounding she’s getting. It’s as loud as it is messy, but it leaves Yujin with a craving for more, leaving her frantically rubbing her clit, and the clench around your cock gets so fucking tight you almost explode.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, make me cum, daddy, make me cum on your thick fucking cock. Fuck, then you can cum and then I can taste—“

“Oh, good morning.” Wonyoung nonchalantly walks past the action happening, like you’re not in the middle of plowing her older roommate, and opens up the fridge. To be fair, you’ve become so accustomed to her interrupting the two of you, it does little to distract you at this point.

“Don’t mind me, just grabbing something to eat before class,” Wonyoung says, grabbing some yogurt and fresh berries from the fridge shelf, then uses her hip to close it shut. She takes a seat on the other side of the counter so casually, watching you pound Yujin, while taking her time to peel back the foil lid, then starts to slowly dip her spoon into the yogurt, mixing in the berries at the same time.

Her eyes are fixated on the action, but she’s eating a healthy breakfast with such a vacant expression on her face, like this isn't the slightest bit strange. Wonyoung chews slowly, taking occasional glances in your direction while you’re ramming your cock into Yujin who doesn’t seem bothered in the least, not even when you start spanking her ass, just to make those plentiful cheeks jiggle, so she can moan louder and tighten up around your shaft.

“We’re out of blueberries,” Wonyoung says, as her lips pout, like you’re not railing her best friend in front of her, slapping Yujin’s ass hard, that it’s enough to make her squeal when the flesh ripples—and she does it again so fucking loud when you give her another rough spank, one deafening strike after the other that has your full concentration on the hypnotizing waves her ass cheeks make.

You’re absolutely destroying Yujin’s cunt, finding new angles to piston into her that have her letting out guttural cries of pleasure, and her tender asscheeks have the most beautiful hand prints on them, a pleasant shade of red that keeps deepening. Yujin gets impossibly tight whenever you spank her, making the most pathetic little whimpers while you deliver those stinging slaps to her ass, but Wonyoung makes little if any acknowledgment, uninterested in anything but her yogurt, eating it in relative silence.

It’s impressive how Wonyoung can maintain such a straight face, despite how loud you’re making Yujin scream, filling that cunt so perfectly, and it gets where you’ll try anything to get her attention—so you go harder on Yujin, ramming your shaft into that tight pussy so rough, that she can barely hang on to the kitchen counter. You’re doing whatever possible to elicit a reaction out of the younger girl, fucking the air right out of Yujin, that it becomes a challenge not to burst when your hips keep slapping against her reddened ass, because her pussy feels so fucking unreal—

Wonyoung has all but turned to stone, and while her eyes might dart from you to Yujin, it's impossible to tell if she's judging, aroused, or just enjoying the show. That stoic expression hasn’t changed one bit.

“Daddy, need you to give it to me, ruin my fucking pussy. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me, but you’re not pounding me hard enough,” Yujin says, which you find impossible to believe, but then again, you’re pretty sure that she’s getting off on her younger best friend watching her get dicked down.

So as Wonyoung just keeps eating her yogurt through it all, licking her spoon clean after every bite, paying no mind to how raw and vulgar the sounds of flesh smacking against flesh get, as you put every little ounce of strength you have left. Yujin is bent over so obscenely, taking all your cock without issue, and pushes back to meet each and every thrust that gets buried deep inside her.

There’s so much sweat dripping down your bodies, and you’ve given up on trying to break that poker face on Wonyoung, leaving you with nothing left to distract you. Yujin can take so much without any trouble, as if she’s showing off how much her pussy enjoys being pummeled, and all she does is beg for more. You keep the hand that isn’t on her hips moving, and the more it meets the deadly curve of that round ass, the better it gets watching the recoil on those sweaty cheeks.

Yujin's on the verge of release, and you’re not far behind, both chasing an earth-shattering orgasm that’ll have you both reeling, but as dangerously close as you are, Yujin's even closer, clenching hard on your cock, so fucking tight that you'll burst any second now.

You’re moving on auto-pilot, and when Yujin turns her head back to meet you halfway with her lips, your mouth crashes against her own, then you’re planting hungry kisses down her neck. There’s not a part on Yujin’s body that doesn’t taste good, and you kiss as many places as you have access to, from those beautiful shoulders, to that bare back covered in sweat, doing everything you can to prevent the inevitable.

All it takes is one solitary thrust that hits just right until Yujin’s legs begin to tremble, and when you do it again, she almost collapses on the spot. One more time, and she’s cumming on your cock without any warning, gushing on the kitchen floor, and it takes everything you’ve got to keep yourself buried. She’s squealing, gasping as you fuck her through the violent orgasm that rips through her body, and the only thing you can think about is how fucking desperate you are for relief while you hold her hips, helping her ride through the intensity of her high that shows no signs of yielding.

The kitchen (and Yujin) is going to be such a mess after this.

Yujin keeps convulsing on your cock, taking you closer to that edge, while you drill her as fast and hard as your hips will allow, driving her to a second greedy climax that you’re a fraction of a second from blowing your load inside her. Yujin’s so fucking wet, so unbearably tight that you’ll have to make a conscious effort to hold on, because you can't last much longer, not with how euphoric it feels to be buried in her cunt.

“D-daddy, daddy, are you close?” Yujin asks, out of breath, and it’s the easiest question in the world to answer. All you can do is nod at this point during the next lust-filled kiss, and it takes all of your remaining strength to pull out from her heat at the right time.

Yujin drops to her knees to finish you off, tasting herself on your needy cock, and it won’t take long at all until you’re filling up that pretty mouth.

While this is all happening, Wonyoung licks her spoon clean one last time, still sitting on the opposite end of the island, and gets up out of her chair without a passing glance, tossing her empty yogurt cup away. She leaves without any parting words, without the slightest bit of recognition that Yujin now has your cock jammed down her throat as she grabs your hips, bobbing her head at an impossible to deal with pace.

You’re on board a rocket that’s already been lit, about to explode at any moment, because the back of Yujin’s wet throat feels like heaven, and the way she looks up, waiting for you to cum is more maddening than you know how to handle. Her nails dig deeper into your hips, and you’re spiraling out of control while those sexy lips of hers stay perfectly sealed around your cock, tongue tracing the underside of your cock. Yujin isn’t going to stop until she has you cumming down her throat.

That gorgeous face is so eager, so happy to swallow all the cum out of your cock, and her eyes show how badly she wants it as her hands leave your hips, finding your wrists before she guides them up the back of her head.

“Yujin—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna make me fucking cum,” you groan out, and you’ve never seen those sparkling eyes widen so much. You know Yujin can’t wait, nor can you, not with how sloppy her mouth is, how deep she’s taking you into her mouth, and she’s sucking you off so well you can hardly think straight, every messy slurp making your head spin.

Yujin doesn’t even gag when you instinctively start fucking her mouth, getting a strong grip on her head, and you’re not even sure how she can even breathe with your cock crammed so far down her throat—not that she cares, because she just keeps staring up at you, keeps showing you how much she wants you to cum in her mouth, like she needs it to survive.

It’s fucking filthy, wet, and you can’t even settle into a rhythm before your cock throbs, your lips groaning Yujin’s name in a chant as the only warning she’ll get before you press her face down into her crotch, holding her there until your hot seed shoots down her throat.

Your legs threaten to give out when you unload down Yujin’s waiting throat, but she takes everything you have to offer. It’s not the least bit difficult for her to swallow it all, smiling with her eyes as you’re pumping all the thick, gooey cum into her stomach, and she makes sure none of it goes to waste, throat milking it all out.

Yujin fucking loves the taste, the thickness that fills her mouth, the texture that she can’t get enough of, swallowing every last drop like it’s the best damn breakfast she’s ever had. And when there’s nothing left in your balls to empty, Yujin keeps her mouth on your shaft, keeps that powerful suction going, even when you can’t take anymore.

“Yujin, please,” you can barely get out, and you’re not proud of begging, but fighting against the aftershocks and overstimulation is an uphill battle that makes you nearly pass out against the kitchen counter. But fortune favors you, since there’s pity written on Yujin’s features, so she lets you slip out of her mouth, licking your sensitive cockhead clean before doing the same to her lips.

“Thanks for the delicious protein, daddy. It really makes the best breakfast.”

With whatever strength left, you hold on for dear life against the kitchen island, and Yujin just stares at you in your post-orgasm daze, licking her lips like she’s ready to go again. Because you know she is.

“Daddy—“ It’s just one word, but she says it with affection in her voice as she saunters over to you and caresses your cheek. Both of you are covered in sweat, but you really took the brunt of it, given that you’re still gasping for air, still recovering from such a mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm Yujin just helped you reach. “I think we should skip the rest of our classes today. Don’t you?”

She has a point. You’ll only have a couple of classes left in your day even if you went, and you’re not particularly compelled to spend hours listening to some old guy drone on about histories of countries you’ll probably never even visit in your lifetime. You also know with your schedule clear that Yujin’s liable to jump your bones the entire day, and you’re already exhausted as is.

But really—when has Yujin wearing you out ever been a bad thing?

✦ ✦

To nobody’s surprise, Yujin is insatiable.

On the kitchen floor still lies a heap of clothes, but there’s no point in putting them back on, since they won’t be staying on. Now that your schedule’s been freed, Yujin has the rest of the day planned out—and it involves you, her, and whatever surface that’ll hold her weight.

Wonyoung’s classes won’t be over for several hours, so there won’t be any more interruptions, which gives the perfect opportunity to jump in the shower and share the hot water together. In reality, it’s the only reprieve you’re getting, and that’ll only last until the water warms up—getting clean is only an afterthought.

Once the water starts streaming down your bodies, it relaxes all your tired muscles, and Yujin helps soap up your body, which is really just an excuse to get her hands on you again. And her hands feel amazing when they massage all the sore spots on your body underneath the running water (which is always as hot as possible when Yujin’s involved).

You’ve never felt so relaxed, so calm when Yujin helps shampoo your hair, working her fingers deep in your scalp. Something in your gut tells you that feeling is only going to last until it all gets washed out, even as Yujin smiles innocently when she helps rinse out your hair.

When the last of the shampoo falls down into the drain, it takes all the purity of the shower with it.

Yujin begins soaping up your body, running her hands along every part of your chest and stomach, and it doesn’t take long before she gets a little too handsy. Little by little, her hands travel down your hips, and you know where they’re going to detour, that there was zero chance you’d actually use the shower for its designated purpose.

It doesn’t matter though, when Yujin looks so ethereal surrounded by running water, with her wet hair stuck to her face, accompanied by the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You’re definitely staring, which no one could blame you for when the only thing better than Yujin’s naked body—is Yujin’s naked body all wet and soapy.

Distraction comes easily when you’re busy getting lost in all the curves of that immaculate figure, and you’re only interrupted when Yujin uses your hips to spin you around, facing you away from her as the hot water starts to pelt your chest. The only thing more soothing than the running water is the way her arms wrap around your waist, how the weight of her perky breasts press into your back. Yujin’s soft lips latch onto your neck, peppering it with kisses, and her hands inch lower down your torso, with no mistaking where they’re heading.

“Daddy,” Yujin whispers, wrapping those eager fingers around your length, and it only takes a few pumps before she brings your erection back to life. “Gonna keep milking you, gonna keep draining those heavy loads out of your balls over and over until they’re sore, until you can barely walk.”

You have little of a response to offer, only groans that tell Yujin all she needs to hear when the grip on your shaft tightens. The hot breath on your neck only serves to leave you more speechless, and the way she’s jerking you off nice and slow only makes it worse, especially with how you’re still sensitive, but you’re not about to admit that—she’ll know regardless.

Yujin’s words hold so much weight to them, because you know how relentless she can be, how easy it is to gain control over your body. You know her words are a promise, a guarantee that she’ll do whatever she likes, and she lets out a little giggle when your shaft twitches in her hand. “You’re gonna cum all day for me, right? As many times as I want. All over me, all inside me, everywhere. Your cum belongs to me, daddy.”

It gets harder to speak the more Yujin reveals her intentions, the more those fingers squeeze the tip of your cock just right, making you let out a desperate moan. She keeps nibbling on your neck, pumping your length at an agonizing pace, just so your shaft doesn't get the kind of attention you need, just enough to keep you hard for her.

“Just thinking about all the ways I can make daddy cum makes me so fucking wet. You’re gonna breed me so many times today, gonna pump all your loads inside me.“

When Yujin finishes her sentence, she licks over your earlobe, blowing hot air into it as the path her fingers take speeds up, gets just a little tighter. It’s the littlest bit of pleasure, but it draws out your moans, and without even noticing, your hips are bucking on their own, fucking her fist to bring yourself to another release.

“You need to cum again, don’t you?” Yujin asks, but her question comes with more intense jerks of her hand, giving you the pace you desperately need, which makes you twitch between her fingers harder than before. “Then you have to let me do it, daddy.”

Yujin stalls your hips, holding them in place long enough so you’ll get the message. All you want to do is move, thrust your shaft in between Yujin’s delicate little hand, but it’s clear she’s not going to allow that, so you hold back anything that voices your frustration. She nips at your ear, and her soapy hand slides along your shaft with ease, twisting the right way, and given the attention you’ve been craving,

It's embarrassing how close you already are, especially after such a rough, sweaty session on the kitchen counter. “Daddy likes when I take my time, don’t you? When I get you all worked up, because it’ll feel better when I make you cum…”

You’re not going to admit anything, regardless if she’s right or not. Which she is, but you’re fucking greedy right now, and all you want is to fuck Yujin against the shower glass, until you fuck another load inside her. You can’t even see her face right now, but you know what smug expression is on her face when she strokes your cock just the way you like it, bringing you closer and closer, and you can feel the hardness of her nipples as her wet tits stay squished against your back.

Maybe it’s for the best that you can’t see her, since you know she'd have that familiar shit-eating grin plastered on her face, knowing how fucking close you are to unloading in her hands, because nobody but her can get you off quite like she can.

“Yujin, please,” you moan, a regrettable use of words, because you don’t need her knowing just how desperate you are to cum, but it’s too late when she chuckles into your ear.

She’s maniacal in her ways, releasing the grip on your cock, just to laugh as it throbs in the air—then she’s teasing that sweet spot with the pad of her finger, applying the least amount of pressure when she traces your shaft from base to tip, prolonging every bit of pleasure you’ll beg for.

You’re a fucking wreck already, and Yujin just keeps building and building your orgasm, making you chase it. It only becomes more of a challenge not to move your hips when she gives ample amounts of pleasure, just to steal it away at the last possible second, until you’re letting out more whimpers of desperation.

There’s no comfort in being under the hot water anymore while Yujin keeps you riding that edge, keeps you right where she wants you. “Please, please,Yujin—“

Your pleas go unanswered while her free hand rakes against your wet abdomen, giving an extra dose of stimulation that only makes it all worse, and she never maintains the same speed of those tormenting strokes for long. Yujin knows how to torture your cock better than you give her credit for.

“Maybe I should make daddy wait until we’re out of the shower?” You’d rather perish at such a suggestion.

You’re at her whims, powerless, vulnerable as could be, when she uses her thumb to rub lazy circles around your cockhead, and embarrassingly helpless, waiting for the moment when she has mercy on you, when she’ll let you blow a load like you never have before.

What makes matters worse is Yujin knowing how close you are to the edge, that if she squeezes your cockhead just right, you’ll shoot an absolute mess between her fingers and all over the tiles. You could be selfish, take matters into your own hands—quite literally. It’s not like Yujin hasn’t given you permission to cum, and she doesn’t punish you for anything—but there’s no satisfaction in taking the easy way out.

So you’re left with the only other option—keeping your composure. A task made nearly impossible when Yujin keeps changing the pressure, only allowing as many strokes as it takes to reach that dangling edge once more. All you can do is wait for it to all build back up again, then hang on tight, which isn’t easy when Yujin keeps teasing the other parts of your body: playing with your nipples, giving your balls a gentle squeeze, doing everything but letting you reach the nirvana you’d give anything to reach.

“Yujin—“ You don’t even care how needy you sound, or how frail your voice comes out as, you’re not above getting on your hands and knees to beg at this point. Even when it seems like you've been edged for days, Yujin knows how well you can endure it.

“Don’t you worry, daddy. I said I was gonna milk your cock, so that’s what I’m gonna do,” Yujin purrs, as fingers rub the sensitive tip of your cock. It's too much pressure, and it takes everything to hold back from spilling, even when you're so fucking close. Yujin squeezes your heavy balls once more, then again, like she’s gauging how much you’ll blow when you’re finally permitted to finish, and you’re a hair's breadth from releasing it all.

There’s a wet kiss planted on the back of your neck as Yujin applies a firm grip at the base of your shaft, and those magical fingers move at a pace that you’ve been dying for as they twist around your cock. Yujin rubs her thumb around your sensitive slit, and begins to pump with such ferocity that your breathing gets heavy and weak, fueling the anticipation more and more, until you’re almost there—

You just pray that Yujin lets you finish this time.

She gives every bit of stimulation you can take, cycling through sucking on your neck, blowing puffs of hot air into your ear, and whispering the absolute dirtiest things she can imagine, words that could make you cum on their own. And the knot in your stomach just keeps snowballing.

“Give me your cum, daddy. Give me that big fucking load, I need it, I need to milk it right out of you,” Yujin commands, with a death grip on your shaft, jerking you off so fast as that pressure just keeps boiling until you’re at a breaking point. Everything blurs together, and it’s impossible to do anything but let the inevitable happen, because regardless if Yujin lets you or not—you’re going to fucking cum.

One light stroke is all it takes to reach the point of no return, and Yujin wraps her free arm around your waist in order to keep you upright while your climax hits like a truck. Your load shoots out like a geyser, coating Yujin’s fingers as you spray it all over the tiles, moaning uncontrollably. As you let out all that bottled up bliss, your whole body spasms out of control, but Yujin keeps you steady, keeps pumping all of your seed out, the sheer force of it making her giggle.

It doesn’t feel like the spurts ever get weaker, even as Yujin keeps squeezing the tip of your cock, prolonging your euphoric high for as long as she can. The relief only gets better with every heavy pulse of your shaft, and it feels like it’s never going to end—you just cum, and cum, and cum, while Yujin whispers words of praise into your ears, milking that massive load out of you as promised. Every little drop gets ejected from your pulsating shaft, until your balls are depleted, absolutely drained, and there’s nothing left to spill.

By the time it all subsides, every muscle in your body still trembles, and even after you’ve been milked dry, your cock still throbs for Yujin. The aftershocks fire off like the Fourth of July, and it’s a losing battle trying not to collapse, but Yujin ensures you remain on your feet.

Yujin turns you around to face her, and there’s a dangerous grin on her face—something you should be worried about, because only she knows what else you’re in store for. Without even noticing, the water gets turned off, and Yujin helps you out of the shower, draping a towel over your shoulder to aid in your recovery. Little by little, you regain your senses until you feel like a functional human again.

There’s not a mirror left that hasn’t been completely fogged over, but the cool air feels so refreshing on your hot skin after being in there for ages. Yujin can’t stop smiling as she takes care of you, drying off your body and ruffling your hair, because she knows you’re going to feel that high for days.

Once you're all toweled off, squeaky clean, and refreshed, it all comes full circle when Yujin drags you back to her bedroom, one of the biggest places in the apartment. Her bed is spacious enough to accommodate a small army, but it’s just you, her, and that killer smile, with all the room for whatever Yujin has in mind.

Again, clothes seem like such a frivolous waste of energy, and neither of you can even be bothered with those fancy silk bathrobes Yujin looks so good in. Besides, there’s this inescapable feeling you’re going to need all the energy you can spare.

Your suspicions get proven once your back hits the mattress, when Yujin’s lips place chaste kisses down your shoulders and chest before resting her head on you. It’s the rare occasion where you have time to relax, even being aware there’s some devilish intentions stored up, but you’re able to just enjoy the moment with Yujin nuzzled against you, but god—her skin feels so impossibly soft, and she smells so good, even though its just shampoo, body spray, and her natural scent.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” Yujin asks out of the blue, and you don’t have the faintest idea what she’s referring to, but with her, you’ll have to prepare for anything. While you’re waiting for her to explain, her fingers run through your hair, scratching the back of your scalp, which relaxes you enough to fall asleep in an instant as your heavy eyelids shut tight.

“Did you have fun plowing our Wonyoungie yesterday?“ Yujin repeats, with a bit of clarification that leaves a disastrous blush on your face when your eyes spring open. “I went out for a swim while you two were…busy and I could still hear her from the pool.”

It all feels like a lifetime ago that you railed Wonyoung across the entire apartment, but in reality, less than twenty-four hours passed. The image stays fresh in your mind, how you can still feel how Wonyoung clung to your body as you ravaged her down the hallway, and made her cum on your fingers, then again on your tongue, and then even more times on your cock than you could count. You can still hear the whimpers in your ears when you folded Wonyoung in half, and it wouldn’t matter where Yujin was—there wasn’t a quiet spot in the entire apartment.

“Sorry, we should have been more—”

Yujin interrupts you with a kiss before your defenses get too worked up. “There’s no need to be sorry. Hearing you pound that little brat senseless really got me going. Do you know how jealous hearing her scream daddy over and over made me? I just wanted to lie out and enjoy the sun, but I couldn’t stop touching myself, hearing the way you fucked her brains out.

There’s no bigger smile than the one on her face right now.

Jealousy wasn’t a trait you expected from Yujin, but it’s not surprising given how possessive she can get. That image alone, there's something so arousing about it—even more when you know Yujin loves swimming in the nude, and her getting off by the pool as she hears every single scream from Wonyoung, it sends blood flowing to all the right places. Yujin can discern how you’re processing the information, how it gets the gears in your head turning and all your fantasies brought to the surface.

“I don’t usually get myself off when I have you and Wonyoung to do that, but the way you just kept pounding her and pounding her—“

Yujin’s eyes can’t stop growing when she relives the events from yesterday, and it’s clear this is only going to end one way. “I hope you came in her, daddy. I hope you pumped all your cum in that little slut.”

“You think there’s any way I wouldn’t?” You’re almost annoyed that she would dare ask such a thing, like Wonyoung’s tight little body isn’t tailor made for breeding. Regardless, Yujin can only beam from ear to ear, because it’s the answer she wants to hear, even though it would take a herculean effort to not finish inside your mutual younger roommate.

"Wonyoung has such a nice body, doesn’t she? Her perky little tits, tiny waist, and that face? Oh, isn’t it so gorgeous? She’s like a model. Doesn’t it just make you want to blast a nice, thick load all over it? She would look so pretty covered in your cum, daddy.” Yujin looks absolutely feral when she talks like that, and she’s pushing all the right buttons to provoke a reaction out of you, one that you’re hopeless to defend against.

“You know what’ll be even better?” she asks, adding a pause that’s just there to torture you. “When I watch your cock wreck her cunt, being right there when you breed that little cumslut. I can’t wait to see how she takes your huge cock, how that bratty face looks when you’re filling up that pretty little pussy.”

It’s hard to not let your arousal get carried away when Yujin keeps putting ideas in your head, but you have no barriers left to build. She gets you riled up so easily, with just a few simple words to plant the seeds, and your imagination will grow the rest.

“But you know I can’t just watch, right?” Yujin adds, as her voice develops into a low murmur against your ear. ”Next time—we both get to play with her.”

You can see it so vividly, the image of sharing Wonyoung as she gets stretched out on your cock, using her petite body, dominating her in unison, defiling her in every position imaginable—it really gets the blood between your legs pumping. All of it serves as just a sample to whatever Yujin has planned, and she unravels the next step by grabbing the back of your hand, pressing it in between her thighs so you can feel the wetness pooling out of her cunt.

There’s that hungry look again in Yujin’s eyes when she grinds on your fingers long enough to coat them in her inexhaustible slickness. Your respite has all the life span you expected—she won’t be satisfied with just getting your fingers messy, there’s a much more grandiose plan awaiting.

Yujin releases your wrist, but that warm, wet mess clings to your fingertips, dripping down your hand, like it wasn’t obvious she’s raring to start the second act. You get a moment to see how her arousal glistens on your fingers before she brings them up to her mouth, tasting her own sweetness, and sucks it right off without breaking eye contact.

Everything about it looks so erotic, the way Yujin sucks so greedily on your digits and uses the same energy when she goes down on you, cleaning up every single spot of the mess she created. Yujin hums against your fingers, and sucks with such fervor, like the juices she’s licking clean are the most delicious thing she could have in her mouth. It’s hard to decipher the expression on Yujin’s face, whether she looks so ravenous because she’s tasting herself, or if she just loves having your fingers in her mouth.

It doesn't really matter in the end, because it’s all done to grab your attention. You’re just trying to keep that lingering arousal in check, not let it get too carried away—but you can’t say the same for Yujin, who’s gotten so messy with how she’s salivating on your fingers, long past cleaning the taste off them. This is all for her own enjoyment.

“Daddy…” Her voice starts out muffled with how her lips stay attached around your fingers. “Oh, daddy…” Yujin drags out her syllables when she shifts position into a full straddle, resting her weight on your lap as she keeps sliding your wet fingers past her lips. It’s the right kind of messy that has saliva dripping down her chin, and you know there’s no way Yujin can’t feel your cock stiffening up again once she releases your fingers with a sensual pop, letting them travel up her toned abdomen, right up to the valley between her naked breasts.

“I know you love getting your tongue in my cunt,” she says, using your saliva coated digits to squeeze one of her sensitive breasts, then teases her stiff nipple in lazy circles, poorly stifling out a little gasp. “So this time, I’ll make it easier for you.”

This is the part where all of your muscles tense up waiting for Yujin to pounce. It’s an overwhelming anticipation when she brings your index finger back into her mouth, using the tip of her tongue to roll around it before taking it down to the knuckle without even gagging, and makes such a lewd display of it, using you to satisfy her oral fixation.

“Just lay there, daddy. Stay right there so I can ride your cute face.”

The words come out so casually when Yujin pops out your finger, and there’s no answer you could give besides an obedient nod. She knows this, of course, not that it matters what random assortment of words get strung together; the answer will always be the same, but even under that thousand-mile long smile, there’s something more sinister waiting.

It’s a look that sends your heart racing, the suspense deepening when Yujin makes the slow crawl up your body, and ends with a devastating kiss before grabbing the headboard to pull herself up. No other vantage point offers a more appetizing view of that tantalizing pink flesh, and there are no barriers between Yujin when she hovers right above your mouth, spreading herself open with two fingers so her arousal drips down your face.

“Daddy—” Yujin begins to say, but it doesn’t matter how her sentence finishes, because you’re too lost in how tasty her cunt looks. You can’t imagine how it looks on her end, how starved you must look, but you can’t contain your insatiable lust for Yujin, dying for a taste.

And then, that craving becomes reality as Yujin lowers her hips, until those heavenly thighs return to either side of your face. There isn’t even a warning—not that you need one while she presses her soaking wet folds against your face, smearing it with her nectar that trickles into your mouth. You don’t even get the chance to get your tongue on her, because she’s just spreading that wetness wherever she can, and it’s only when you try to savor that taste that she’s pulling away—

Yujin wants to make you work for it.

All you can do is whine at first when her cunt hovers out of reach, and there’s no point in hiding the desperation written all over your face, because she senses every bit. The mischievous laughter and giggles get more and more infuriating when those dripping pussy lips graze your mouth, but she doesn’t keep up this game for long, because the temptation to let you feast becomes too strong to fight.

Once Yujin eventually puts her weight down on you, smothering your face with that soaked cunt, it's like you can finally breathe again once you’re allowed to taste her, and the need for oxygen no longer feels all that necessary. You give her wet entrance the most tentative of licks, savoring the taste that lingers on the tip of your tongue when she grinds against your mouth, which makes you groan right into her, and you just need more.

Can you breathe, daddy?” Yujin asks, not in concern, but a playful little tease when her cunt presses harder against your face. It’s a question devoid of any importance right now, but you shake your head as she keeps lowering herself on you just right, letting you bury your tongue right into the source, and she uses those sinfully soft thighs to squeeze your head like they’re never going to let go.

Yujin moves without an ounce of haste, working at a deliberate tempo so she can savor all those sensations at once while she gets her hands all over the back of your head, keeping your tongue buried between her wet folds. She’s just loving the way you’re desperate to devour her cunt, licking as much of her as your tongue can reach, tasting all that tangy slickness when it flows right into your mouth. This is the perfect spot for you to be, getting her off while you suffocate between those thighs, drowning in her arousal that clings to your lips and keeps trickling down your face.

The real fun happens when Yujin starts to roll her hips, when she’s dominating your face, suffocating you with all her weight. Her cunt drools right on your tongue, soaking every corner of your mouth when you hit the right spots, then she begins to really use your face, tangling those slender fingers in your hair, and grinding on your mouth to further entice your appetite. “Oh fuck, right there, daddy—keep that tongue out, keep making me feel good. You love eating my pussy, don’t you?”

A rather pointless question, one that gets answered with frantic licks instead of words. There’s no greater honor than pleasuring Yujin, and she doesn’t hold back anything when she grinds those powerful hips on your face, fucking herself on your tongue until it leaves an absolute welcome mess on your lips. Yujin loves the attention, having a perfect sense of control, and your sole purpose is to work your tongue through that wet cunt, providing your mouth that she can use to her heart's content.

Yujin clutches the headboard for stability, hips moving with such force that she’s using you like a toy to fuck your face, and all you can do is keep your tongue flicking faster to keep up. She tastes so fucking good, even when you can’t gather up all her nectar into your mouth, the rest spilling out in sticky streams that flow down your chin like a delicious, seemingly endless fountain.

And all the noises she makes, the way she groans, whines on your tongue, all that breathless panting as her body writhes in ecstasy sound so unbelievably sexy, that makes you want to lick her cunt forever.

“Gonna—gonna cum hard, daddy,” Yujin cries out, your favorite words to hear while those hips move on their own. She gets right on that edge, keeping your head still, and she’s almost there, so close, that you can literally taste it—

“Daddy!”

Yujin tenses up when that climax hits, her cunt gushing all over your face. It’s all flooding your tongue, lips, and everything in between as she squeezes her thighs like a vice around your head, just riding those endless waves of bliss that you hope never end.

You’re rather disappointed when she slows her hips, even if it lets you savor the shower of arousal that’s blessed your face. The biggest surprise is how it’s rather calm—because you know firsthand that Yujin can climax like a hurricane. When it all passes and she gets her breathing back under control, you’re a bit too eager during the aftermath, cleaning up wherever you can, while she’s still dealing with the aftershocks, with only enough energy to play with your hair.

Once Yujin catches her breath, she lets out those adorable giggles again while she stays right there on top of you, and takes her sweet time getting off your face, getting a good look at the absolute mess she’s made of you. “Look at daddy all covered in me…”

Yujin is barely even panting, which isn’t that unexpected given how relentless her stamina is, and you’re more in need of recovery than she is. Still, it doesn’t stop her from leaning in to take a kiss before she licks the side of your face, tasting herself all over you.

The words come out muffled when Yujin says, ”Daddy, you taste so good.” She finishes cleaning off her mess until all she leaves are those affectionate kisses alongside your jaw, because she’s never really done with you.

“That’s all my Yujin—“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, realizing the words that just left your lips, nearly choking on them. It’s the sort of thing that just slips out in the heat of the moment, when your mind is too fogged over and consumed with Yujin’s lingering taste. You can tell you've made a mistake when her eyes widen, but there’s no backtracking now—not when you’re this flustered.

Before Yujin can say anything else, you seal her lips with a kiss, one that’s supposed to end in an instant—but she locks in that embrace, keeping your lips captive into something much more prolonged. You know it’s fruitless to disguise your vulnerability when there’s nothing that can wipe that stupid, smug grin off of her face, and after what feels like forever, you’re both just staring for what feels like forever, until Yujin breaks the silence with the most endearing little laugh.

“What was that, daddy?” she questions, and there's an innocent blush on her face when she surrounds in that intense eye contact, but there’s no chance that’s going to have you repeating what just slipped out.

“Nothing,” you mumble, as if Yujin would be satisfied with that response. You know there isn’t anything that will get you out of this, but it won't stop you from trying, looking off to the side to avoid the intense eyes staring a hole through you. Yujin’s a woman with impenetrable defenses, and she’s not going to be distracted easily, holding your face between her palms to prevent your gaze from averting.

“Daddy…”

Yujin pouts with that cute puppy face that isn’t remotely fair, and it doesn’t help that she’s cutely rubbing your cheeks with her thumbs, trying to coax an answer out of you. The power in her gaze never falters, and when she realizes you have no plans to cave, she leans into the crook of your neck, grazing those warm, full lips right on your neck to get those juices flowing again.

“Yujin—'' You want to at least attempt a show of protest, but she’ll know it isn't even half-hearted when her hand cups the back of your head, as she fully latches her mouth onto your neck. It's that special little area that always makes you melt, and you're just lost in her touch, how that warm, wet tongue traces just the right spots, and then she grabs something hidden underneath a pillow—

You only get a moment to glance at a set of light pink, fur-covered handcuffs before Yujin restrains your wrists to the headboard above, leaving you helpless with no choice but to indulge in her desires. There’s an expression on her face that’s all so familiar, but there isn’t enough time to think when Yujin kisses down your body, licks a nipple while flicking the other with her thumb, then travels down your abdomen, sucking marks wherever she can on your skin.

“Our little Wonyoung got to have you inside her all day yesterday, didn’t she?” she asks, that jealous, possessive tone laced in every single syllable, but the question isn’t really intended to get a response. “How many times did you cum inside her? Three? Four?” I can only imagine how pretty her pussy looks when it’s dripping your hot load…”

There’s not another word from Yujin’s lips while she keeps marking your body with her mouth, as she works down to your thighs, spreading them apart before kissing every single spot she can get her lips on—and you’re already getting so hard with just a handful of kisses alone.

The worst part is you can’t even touch her, which makes you tug your frustrations out against the metal around your wrist that prevents you from doing so. It’s already so much to deal with, because Yujin can be the biggest tease, the cutest brat, and the sexiest little demon, all at once—you know you’re in for a long ride.

“But now, daddy,“ she starts, and there’s a different tone to it when it rolls off her tongue. “I get to keep you all to myself. I get to have your amazing cock filling me, pumping my pussy full of that thick cum.”

Those words are enough to drive you insane.

You can feel the hot breath on your thighs that’s she’s kept open, but she hasn’t touched your cock that’s throbbing inches away from her face, only kissing everywhere but where you need, a directionless assortment of pecks that’s only meant to torment.

“You look so good in handcuffs. And now, you’re—all—mine.”

The kisses on your thighs stop just as fast as they start, and then she caresses them, keeping that blood flowing into your loins. Her nails scratch against your skin for some extra stimulation, not enough to cause pain, but to draw your attention from what’s next. “I need you to cum again.”

Every single word Yujin says drips out lust like honey.

The mere sound of her voice puts you on edge, and Yujin sounds so breathless when she squeezes your balls, rolls them between her fingers as your cock twitches for her. If that wasn’t enough, she dips her head down, making nothing but the most shallow licks through your sack, which is more than enough torture—because you can’t even lay a fingertip on her beautiful skin, can’t run your fingers through her hair, you’re so powerless to do anything but squirm and fight against your restraints.

“Your balls feel so nice and heavy, and your cock—“ Yujin pauses as she grabs your shaft by the base and squeezes. “This beautiful fucking cock just belongs inside me. It deserves to fill me up, god—I just need you to breed me again and again, daddy…”

You’re hesitant to say anything that can give off a reaction, since Yujin’s gotten you so riled up that any little thing will set you off, so you remain silent, just letting out a sigh that she manages to still hear. It’s all she needs.

“You need me on your cock, don’t you, daddy? Because I need that thick cock pumping those hot loads, filling my cunt deep.”

It’s a rather redundant question, but that doesn’t stop Yujin from slowly running her hand up your shaft, giving a squeeze at just the right places. She moves nice and slow, feeling your entire length as it throbs under her touch, then takes her thumb to stroke that sensitive part just underneath the head, making the tiniest circles to make you jerk against your restraints.

“Please, Yujin,” you gasp out, long past the point of desperation. She just keeps massaging the swollen tip of your cock, spreading precum everywhere, and you’re fucking leaking like a faucet, but all you want is for her to ride you, to take you so deep until you’re on the verge of exploding—

But you know there isn’t going to be any mercy when she keeps up those little, teasing touches all over your sensitive head, then wraps those fingers around your shaft again, giving it a light stroke, another squeeze, and she just holds it.

“I love seeing you this hard,” Yujin says, stroking down to your balls, giving them a gentle fondle to draw out some more of your frustration, then returns back up to your tip, getting all that precum that oozes out all over her fingers, using it to coat them while she licks it off.

All this teasing is not only doing a number on you, but Yujin, who cuts her plans to indulge herself short. Her hand speeds up the strokes, pumping up and down your entire shaft, giving your head the most generous amount of attention, and then she lets it all go—lets it smack against your abdomen.

“Gonna ride the fuck out of you, daddy,” she growls, and it sounds like both a promise and a threat, but you’re just happy she’s moved past torturing your cock, watching with bated breath as Yujin aligns herself with your length, grabbing it at the base to position it right against her slit. You can already feel the heat emanating from her dripping folds that kiss your aching cockhead, as she positions herself into a squat, spreading those legs wide, and it’s all so close in reach—that you’re just begging for her to drop those hips.

Then Yujin raises herself just enough to place your tip against her entrance—and there isn't any warning or moment to get prepared before you sink into her warmth, all at once, just until her ass rests on your lap, until every single inch is swallowed up by those velvety walls.

"Oh my god," Yujin groans, and rolls those hips in your lap, savoring that fullness inside her pussy before she even thinks about lifting herself back up. It’s slow and methodical, the first agonizing movement she makes—a long, slow rise of her hips that gets held a little too long before she makes her descent, impaling herself on your shaft, making herself all perfectly stretched out.

Yujin starts riding with all the power in those shapely thighs, fucking herself onto your cock, and you can feel that silky grip take over, the one that squeezes so fucking tight that you hope it never lets you go. It’s the best reward Yujin can give you. You’ve earned it you think, for enduring everything Yujin has thrown at you, and with each stroke of her hips, you feel those wet lips of her slit tightening up, glazing your cock in all her juices when she raises up again, just to slam down hard, burying you in that intense heat.

It all repeats over and over, while the frustration never ends, only being able to watch it unfold, and it’s like she’s taunting you with the use of her hands, playing with your chest, digging her nails against your chest, teasing your nipples before her hands just run all over you.

“Yujin—“ you moan, the first thing that leaves your mouth in quite some time, and it sounds so unbecoming, so pathetic, because you're so, so desperate to get your hands all over those sexy curves, get your tongue all over her beautiful skin. Those hips keep the momentum rolling as they crash against you, the sound of her supple asscheeks making a resounding smack whenever they collide against you, and Yujin rides you just like you’ve yearned for, in a state of peak euphoria, like you're all hers to use for as long as she wants, for as long as she needs.

Being forced into this passive role, it has you more pent up than you can stand, only able to watch your cock get swallowed up to the hilt, without the ability to touch a single inch of that toned body, and Yujin knows it. She’s executing this devious plan of hers to perfection, because she sees the annoyance in your eyes, that you’d give anything to squeeze that perfect ass, lift her up and make her take more of you, but you can’t—and she fucking loves that more than anything.

“Daddy, you like this, right? You like watching me fuck you? Watching me stretch myself on your thick, throbbing cock, fuck—you’re going to make such a huge fucking mess inside me.”

Yujin moves those hips with such ferocity that it gets your breathing all heavy and uneven, becoming a struggle to keep up with that dizzying pace that gets your moans going, getting every last inch deep in her pussy. Her nails dig into your chest like she wants to etch her name there, as she squeezes that perfect little cunt around you, taking you balls deep like it isn’t even a challenge, and nothing gets in her way of doing so.

She fucks herself like there’s something to prove, like you didn’t already know how good Yujin is at riding cock, and then shows off just how wild those hips can really get, starts to fuck you harder than you can comprehend, taking it all to a new level as that body keeps up a brutal pace.

There’s nothing for you to do other than lie there helplessly, but what’s there to complain about when you have the best view of how your cock disappears into Yujin’s suffocating heat? You can feel every orgasmic sensation, those juicy lips that grip so fucking well, and they might never let you go.

“God, Yujin—“ you breathe out, and you can’t even finish a sentence at this rate. Yujin is fucking your cock so fast that the slap of her ass against your crotch becomes hypnotic, the obscene sounds of her dripping cunt being impaled mercilessly get so fucking loud that it almost drowns out any noises Yujin makes.

It’s fucking beautiful to watch how hard those hips can bounce, and Yujin isn’t showing any signs of slowing down, quite the opposite—she’s just taking advantage of your body, riding your cock like she fucking owns it, taking that girth as deep it’ll go. Not a single fucking inch of it gets neglected through those suffocating slippery depths, as she uses you like her own personal toy, and you’ve never been more proud to be treated as such.

Yujin’s so intent on making you hers, leaving scratch marks on your skin as a display, like she wants to really drive home who owns you, and when she takes every inch you have to offer, there’s absolutely no breathing room—and you wouldn’t dream of any. Those careless motions keep herself stretched out, so you can see how much your cock disappears into her pussy, how wildly her breasts bounce with each pump of her hips, how the sweat just runs all down that beautiful body that you wish you could lick clean.

“Daddy, your cock—feels so good, feels so fucking good when you get this deep in my cunt. I’m gonna make you fucking breed me,” Yujin says, and she’s so drunk on lust that her words are slurring, her face a mess of sweat that makes her look even more all too irresistible.

Through the thick of it all, Yujin leans in, demanding your lips, and her kisses are so wet and sloppy that there’s hardly anything left but lust in them. She takes every chance to slip her tongue in your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip every so often just as another show of dominance—a display to make sure you know she’s still got the reins until she pulls away, resuming her focus on taking your cock like a champ.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” she says with such conviction, nothing less than a guarantee, when she takes both your cheeks in her hands, looking deep into your eyes that show every bit of compliance.

The look she flashes nearly gets you creaming inside right then and there, and Yujin looks absolutely depraved. With each sharp drop of those hips, you jerk harder against the handcuffs that shackle you, and it’s only getting tougher to breathe. Yujin only gets tighter and tighter the rougher she gets, putting more aggression into those movements—the harder your hips collide, the faster she goes, until it’s unbearable how good it all feels.

“Daddy’s gonna pump all that hot cum inside me until I’m all nice and filled up.” You’re already too close to comfort to respond with anything but a moan, and you have to grit your teeth just to hold on whenever that pussy tightens, whenever Yujin takes you to the hilt.

And then she hits her climax out of nowhere with one last drop of her hips, a tsunami with no prior warning. She braces herself on your chest, but it’s not enough; she’s shaking, shuddering, legs quivering as she throws her head back, moaning your name, and it’s just so wet—

That greedy little cunt grips tight, tighter than you can bear as Yujin keeps climaxing on your cock, and the waves hit one after the next, making her shriek and scream—but you’re just tugging on your restraints hard enough to leave more marks as you try to hold back from exploding inside that warm velvety heaven.

Yujin’s selfish for more bliss, even before her body can settle down, she’s frantically rubbing her clit to expedite another explosive climax that rips through her body with such ferocity that your cock slips out of her heat—and then she’s violently squirting all over your stomach and crotch, her juices raining down your body in a torrent. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god—“

All at once, that gushing between her legs splashes down everywhere, showing no plans to relent as her legs threaten to give out underneath her, and the sounds that spill out of Yujin are just as unstoppable as the mess that showers you, until her entire body is a shaking mess. The spasms rocking her don’t get any easier to manage, not unlike your cock that twitches in pathetic throbs from the loss of her heat, aching to be sheathed once again.

There’s no pause for Yujin to rest, even if her legs can’t stop trembling, she goes straight to shoving you back inside her at the right moment, because there’s only a modicum of time to spare when she resumes the vigorous riding of your cock, picking right back up where she left off.

“Give me all that cum, daddy, need you to blow that fucking load deep in my cunt. Come on, I know you can’t last any longer. Breed me, breed me, fucking fill my womb, daddy.” Yujin couldn’t sound any more demanding if she tried, and there’s nothing to stop the floodgates from bursting open when your balls tense up, eager to flood her insides.

That’s the last set of words you can comprehend when she slams her hips down one last time, purging every remaining ounce of restraint from your body.

All that’s left to do is groan in ecstasy when her slick, pulsating walls milk that load right out of your cock, pumping it inside Yujin, like her pussy has been begging for it for days. That first spurt is always so intense, and it shoots so fucking deep that your toes curl like crazy, leaving you on the brink of blacking out. There’s just so much cum that gets released into that hot little hole, and you can’t stop moaning her name on your lips, bucking so desperately in the air, while Yujin just keeps rolling those hips, extracting every single drop of that thick seed, and fuck, it feels like there’s so much more left in those balls to drain.

Yujin can just feel your entire body trembling beneath her, how that hot cum fires into her, and she can feel how you throb, your entire shaft twitching when she milks it for everything she can, taking all those spurts that fill her to the brim, until you have nothing left to give.

You’re so fucking drained to the point of feeling delirious—three orgasms in as many hours as you’ve been awake is a lot to endure, but there’s not a thing left in your aching balls, and Yujin knows it. Even with that endless stamina, you think she might finally let you rest when she finishes out the tuckered out gyrations that keep you buried in her sticky folds, clenching around you to earn the last remaining spurts that leave you lightheaded.

“There's so much in me, my pussy just feels too good not to fucking fill up, right? And it feels so good to be daddy’s perfect little cum dump…”

Her cunt doesn’t leave a drop left to spill out, but that’s not going to stop Yujin from keeping your cock nice and hard inside that warmth, while she grinds in slow, tortuous motions to let your climax ride out for as long as possible.

When her hips finally settle and there’s nothing but exhaustion from your lips, Yujin leans forward to move the hair from your sweaty forehead, then runs her fingers through it to help you catch your breath, even as your eyes struggle to stay open.

“Your load feels so good inside me, daddy,” Yujin says, and there’s hardly any fatigue in the way she’s speaking. “It’s just so warm, my pussy feels so full. I made you cum a lot, didn’t I?”

There's a sense of pride in her tone as her hips give one last pump on your spent cock just for good measure. All you can manage is a weak, muffled groan, but that's all Yujin needs, because the satisfaction on her face couldn’t be more obvious when she brings those perfect lips to your own, taking a long kiss that feels like there’s some finale to this all.

Heavy as they feel, you keep your eyelids from falling, just so you can take in Yujin’s beauty, from the sheen of sweat on her soft skin, to the strands of hair sticking to her forehead, and how she looks when her lips curl into this beautiful smile you’re almost certain has a hidden meaning behind, but you’re going to enjoy it anyway.

The end of the line of this all has to be within reach, you figure, (at least you hope), so there's only one thing left for Yujin to do, and the anticipation has never been higher. With widened eyes, you intently watch as she sits up, lifting her hips off you until your cock regrettably slips free of that hot vice—then you’re left with the perfect view of that huge creamy load spilling out of her messy pussy, oozing down her sweaty thighs.

Her slit looks so glistening, and those lower lips are such a fucking mess when your seed drips out of her, but it’s so enticing you can’t look away, not wanting to miss a second of the spectacle.

Yujin spreads her legs a little wider to show you her cum-filled pussy, how it leaks down to the sheets, and then dips her hand in between those thighs, collecting your messy load that you’ve given her, or rather that she’s taken from you onto her fingers, fucking it back into her folds before bringing them to her mouth.

It’s all such a filthy sight that it keeps you hard and throbbing, seeing Yujin lick her fingers clean, humming in delight like it's the best meal she's had, before shoving her fingers right back in her cunt to scoop up more. She keeps giving that thick, gooey load another taste, and Yujin just looks so pleased with herself.

That same look doesn’t dare disperse when Yujin takes her time to crawl over your body, inch by inch, until it fades into something more wicked—and then she seizes your cock, jerking it off hard and fast, because she knows how fucking raw and sensitive it is.

“Fuck, Yujin—god, oh my god, please,” you cry out, but Yujin just keeps stroking away at your overworked length, with nothing but sadistic pleasure etched all over her face. There’s hardly any bliss left in those furious strokes, it’s just pain and pleasure, competing back and forth, with the former sure to take the lead soon enough.

“You're not all tired out are you, daddy?” she asks, with that same grin clinging to her lips as she grips harder around your shaft, squeezing a harsh fist around your tender cockhead, drawing out every ounce of overstimulation. There’s no energy left to protest, and it’s not like anything you would say would convince Yujin anyway.

“I said I was going to keep milking your cock, so come on, daddy—don’t you have more cum for me? Don’t you wanna blow another load?”

You open your mouth intending to plead her to stop, that your cock is too fucking sensitive, but all that comes out are sounds that don’t resemble anything even close to words, nothing but loud, embarrassing whimpers and whines that you can’t hold in. There’s little you can do but lay there as Yujin refuses to stop stroking your cock, looking you right in the eye with that cocky little smile, like she still has a point to make, ensuring every frantic pump she makes is a cocktail of agony and bliss.

“Doesn’t this feel good, daddy? Having your cock jerked off while you stare at my naked body? You can’t be that sensitive if you’re still so fucking hard,” Yujin taunts, with a grip long past painful, and that fucking grin isn’t going anywhere.

Those devilish fingers just keep pumping, keep torturing your cock, sliding over your shaft as Yujin squeezes with so much intensity that you’re barely cognizant of how much every stroke hurts, but she’s prepared to send you towards yet another release that your balls don’t have to offer.

And just like that—in record time, you’re blasting whatever is left from your balls in the short time they’ve filled back up, shooting all over your stomach, glazing your abdomen in this thin, watery semen that doesn't even compare to the previous pleasure Yujin has drawn from your body. But she’s so greedy she won’t give a damn, because milking out such a pitiful, measly load like that still gives her all the satisfaction necessary.

At the very least, Yujin cleans you up, because those pathetic clear strands that splatter across your abdomen belong to her, and she wouldn’t dare let them go to waste. Her tongue drags all the way across your stomach, dipping down to your balls, before flicking up to your cockhead, cleaning off your unbearably sensitive slit.

Yujin spends just enough time using her tongue to play around with your cock to drive you up the wall, licking wherever she can, and then she seals those greedy lips around your swollen head, applying the harshest suction she can muster. You’re not sure what she’s doing can even be classified as pleasure anymore, and it’s all making you squirm so uncontrollably that you’re liable to break those cuffs.

The littlest touch sets all those sensitive nerves ablaze, making you almost blow another load when her mouth slides down to your base, and Yujin just holds you there in her warm throat—one, two, three. It’s just mere seconds, but it all feels like an excruciating eternity when she comes up with a messy pop, planting a parting kiss on your oversensitive tip that’s just dying to be left alone.

She stalls for a moment, letting the anticipation really linger—then out of nowhere, she lets go of your helpless cock as it gets that chance to rest against your stomach.

Yujin doesn’t do anything else, but keep that fucking smug look on her face.

And you’ve never been so relieved.

Yujin swings her legs around your hips, playfully messing up your hair more than it has been. Beads of sweat still cling to her body, but she doesn’t even look the slightest out of breath. “Daddy—“

There’s another pause before she offers up the rest of her thoughts.

“Oh hey, there you two are.”

It’s Wonyoung. Because of course it is. She’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and god knows how long she’s been there. Based on her wet hair, she’s fresh out of the shower, with a white towel wrapped over her petite figure, but still somehow manages to bask in elegance.

Wonyoung takes one look at you on the bed, in your pathetic state of recovery, but unlike before, there’s acknowledgement straight away when she then turns her attention to Yujin. “So that’s why you weren’t answering your phone…”

Yujin looks over her shoulder and smiles at Wonyoung. “We've been a little preoccupied."

"I can see that.” Wonyoung takes a couple of steps inside the room, and looks so amused at the sight of you bound to the bed, her gaze shamelessly wandering along your naked body. “Well, since none of us have class tomorrow, I thought we should all go out for dinner. Get a couple drinks in us without having to worry about being hungover for early morning lectures.”

The last thing you want is to venture out of this apartment, especially in this state of exhaustion, but there’s such excitement in Wonyoung’s eyes when she speaks that you couldn’t fathom turning her down.

Yujin looks back at you, and all you can give is the weakest nod of approval. “Let me get daddy out of these handcuffs, and then we’ll get cleaned up.”

An eerie silence fills the room when the cuffs come off, and you feel like you’ve risen to the surface for air, even though your wrists are rubbed raw and sore. Yujin rectifies this by kissing them with the most tender smacks, massaging her thumbs into your reddened skin, and it feels a little strange to regain the use of them after being without them for so long.

Now, the messy sheets underneath your bodies should probably be tossed—there’s no saving something so stained with copious amounts of sweat and other bodily fluids (yet another reminder that, god, Yujin just squirts so much), and it’s not like she doesn’t have an infinite amount of similar expensive sheets with a matching pattern in her linen closet.

“You know, daddy looks good in handcuffs…” Wonyoung says with a cheeky smile, as she edges closer towards the bed. Between the two women, they share a knowing glance, one that makes them both giggle out loud at once, leaving you a little terrified of what they’re both thinking.

“What are we in the mood for?” Wonyoung thankfully changes the subject to focus back on food, something you’ll never pass up an opportunity to indulge in.

“There’s this new steakhouse that we should try. It’s on the other side of town, but—“

“Oh, I love steak!” Wonyoung says, interrupting the older girl, and again, there’s just so much enthusiasm in her bright voice.

“Steak it is then.” After Yujin dismounts your body, not a single one of your muscles wants to cooperate when you try to lift yourself up. Yujin can’t help but let out a pitiful laugh as she offers assistance, though it ends up being more of a struggle to try to support your dead weight when your limbs refuse to move in tandem with your thoughts.

“You really did a number on him, huh?” Wonyoung asks when she settles beside the older girl on the edge of the mattress, making it dip with the added weight.

“It’s nothing daddy can’t handle.”

That sass in Yujin’s tone is all the motivation you need to lift yourself up, and then, before you know it, you’re on your feet, albeit with wobbly legs that feel like they’re made of jelly.

It’s strange how natural it feels to be in the middle of Yujin’s bedroom, fully naked, while your two pretty roommates sit and stare at your nude form like a piece of meat. The marks on your wrists won’t fade for days, but it’s the least of your worries right now, because the thought of a nice, juicy steak makes your mouth water almost more than Yujin herself.

“…Are we getting cleaned up or not?”

Asking Yujin that is a dangerous gamble, but you know that Wonyoung will keep you on schedule, as you’ll never hear the end of her complaints if you keep her waiting.

“I’ll get myself dressed and wait in the kitchen,” is all Wonyoung replies with, the hem of her towel flirting just above the curves of her ass when she departs. It’s enough to rile up your imagination, but you keep those thoughts suppressed.

Because you’re sure there’s going to be a lot more where that came from before the night is over.

#ive smut #yujin smut #kpop smut #reader insert #izone smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #ive #yujin #ive x reader

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kissesfordaryl · 3 months

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I have a request!!!!

Okay okay…

Daryl who has never had any desire to touch or masturbate… he doesn’t even know how… he rarely gets hard.

But… once he meets reader, suddenly he’s got this new feeling, he’s always getting hard but he’s so pure and sexually innocent that he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to touch, he’s never cum before.

Reader very gently teaches Daryl how his body works and shows him how to cum and Daryl’s basically a puddle on the floor. He’s very shy to be touched, reluctant at first, never having experience even just masturbation.

You teach him how his body works and he loves it.

Subby innocent baby

a sweet thing.

male reader x daryl dixon.

summary: theres many things new daryls yet to experience in your relationship- but what he was most excited for was you: your touch lingering over his skin as you show him how to feel good.

era: prison.

note: ty for the request anon!! hopefully i didnt take too long to write

daryl twists and turns in bed, waiting for you to come back from your shower. hes been antsy all day, images of you flashing through his mind. youve both been busy lately with all the new additions to the group and the renovations happening- but you managed to sneak some time away with him once in a while: a stolen kiss here or there.

but daryls been wanting more. he had asked to take things slow between you, and of course youve complied perfectly. in fact, he thinks youve followed his request too closely. youve been waiting on him to make a move, but daryl has absolutely no clue how to do so. hes never done anything like that. hes only masturbated a handful of times in his whole life, and that was ages ago. he wasnt the physical touch type, but when it came to you, everything was different. he found himself having urges hes never experienced before- and all of it was overwhelming. he just wished he knew the right words to say to you.

daryl sighs, sitting up a little. he stares up at the thin sheet acting as a barrier, then down at his lap. he thinks about you in the shower now, rinsing off all the sweat and grime thats accumulated from working so hard throughout the day. thinks about the water gliding down your body, wet hair clinging to your face.

his body feels hot all over, pleasure bubbling underneath his skin. with a foreign touch, his hand comes up to palm at his half-hard cock. hes never realized how sensitive he is, his legs drawn together as he strokes himself with one hand, the other muffling his sounds. with his eyes shut, he misses the curtains being drawn back to reveal you standing there.

and you, youve never seen daryl like this. sure, hes always been more of the needy type, constantly clinging to you as you made out with him- but never this: a hand wrapped firmly around his dick, pumping up and down and eyes screwed shut.

well, he looked delicious. you felt frozen in place, just watching and watching. youre careful as you approach daryl, the bed dipping under your weight. he springs up in response, wide eyed and breathless.

youre a little rough, attacking his mouth with a searing kiss. "i cant wait," daryl tilts his head back, mouth parting just slightly, "cant go slow anymore. cmon."

he lets you redirect him on the bed, eyes glazed over with arousal. he shakes his head and nods at the same time, both reluctant and eager for you to touch him. your gaze lands on his cock, flush at the head and twitching underneath your attention.

you realize he hasnt got any lubricant, not even spit. "jesus, dee. doesnt that hurt?"

he stares at you in confusion until youre spitting into your hand, grabbing him by the shaft and slicking him up. he arches into the touch like he doesnt even know hes doing it, eyes rolling back. and you knew he never had experience doing this kinda stuff with men, but not even a handjob? here you were, barely touching him and he was teetering over the edge already. a sort of warm energy rushes through your body at seeing daryl like this, short hair matted like hes been tossing and turning in pleasure.

"what, you couldnt just wait for me to come outta the shower?" you tease, pressing short but warm kisses all along his neck, "had to take care of yourself?"

a sliver of pre-come collects at his slit, and you continue. "or maybe you wanted me to see you like this? shit, good thing i did too- looks like you could use some pointers."

daryls a mess, and it occurs to you that your words may not even be registering for him. "fuck," he finally responds, "fuck- yeah. yeah, please."

"please?" and in the face of it all, you cant help but let out a little chuckle. daryl could handle anything- walkers, people, hunting- but he doesnt know how to jerk off? "alright, ill teach you a little something."

you rearrange your positions, getting up on the bed and sitting in between his legs. hes got his pants pulled halfway down his ass, just enough room for him to get his dick out. "first," you take him by the base, "its good to get this pretty cock all wet beforehand." you collect all the saliva in your mouth, letting it drip onto his cock. his hand flys out to muffle his moans, his hips jerking into your fist. "makes everything feel better, right?"

he nods weakly, shirt riding up to reveal soft skin. you tugged at it, urging him to take it off. he obliges with ease, throwing his shirt to the ground. "and if you wanna feel real good," youre tearing at his pants now, "you can go a little lower."

your fingers ghost over his hole, applying just a little pressure. he cums right then and there, a low whine escaping from him. you refuse to let up, your hands still stroking his flaccid cock. he shoves at your chest, tears springing in his eyes.

with a gentle touch, youre wiping at his face and kissing away his tears. "good?"

he nods, arms weakly wrapping around your back and pulling you close. you hiss as your own erection presses against his thigh, daryl shifting underneath you.

"m'gonna try it again. on you." he suggests shyly, hands disappearing under your shirt.

you lean back onto the mattress, an arm coming up to rest under your head to watch him work. yeah, you could get used to this.

first little drabbleish how do we feel

#rick and maggie are staring at daryl the next morning #he was NOT quiet enough #theyre all just patting him on the back and hes like what the hell #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x male reader #darylxmalereader #kissesfordaryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagines #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon drabbles #bottom daryl dixon #top male reader #dom male reader #twd smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction

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helen-with-an-a · 3 months

Text

I am an adult epilogue

Heyyyy. So who know that I am an adult ending would cause so much debate ahahaha. But real talk, thank you so much for your support and comments - I love them all <3<3<3

Here is the epilogue to I am an adult. It is set at the UWCL final 2025 (getting the manifesting in early) and is fluffy to make up for the angst in the series hehe.

Shout out to @lyak12 for the inspiration and hype on this - lots of love to ya. Also she is the reason this is out earlier than planned <3

Anyways, I hope you enjoy

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R and Lena go watch Barça win the UWCL

TW: Shit do be fluffy as fuck

Lisbon was sunny and welcoming. The gentle golden light spilled into the hotel room, the white curtains dancing in the salty air. It was early, far too early to be awake. The sun filtered through, pulling you from sleep’s embrace. The city outside was just beginning to stir; workmen’s chatter and the clatter of the trams drifted up from the streets below. The aroma of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafted through the open window, mingling with the scent of the sea. You lay there for a moment, savouring the peaceful transition from dream to reality. How different everything was from this time last year.

You groaned as you shifted onto your back, stretching slightly to relieve the aches gained overnight. It was warm in bed – the good kind of warm, the type that made you never want to leave its confines again. You shimmied your way across the bed a little more, relishing the source of the heat. Lena’s skin was smooth under your fingers, the muscles soft yet firm as your hands danced around her bare waist. Her face was turned away from you, her dark hair fanning across the pillow, loose pieces falling across her forehead. She stirred slightly at your touch, a contented sigh escaping her lips. You smiled, pressing a featherlight kiss on her shoulder, relishing in her presence, relaxing into the warmth of her body next to yours.

The past year had been a whirlwind. From moving clubs to moving countries to building a life with Lena, but now, in this serene moment, everything felt right. You were in Lisbon with the love of your life. You were about to watch your best friends, your family, compete for their fourth title. You had just come off the back of a fantastic first season at Bayern and had about two weeks off before the Euros preparation began. Everything was so different from this time last year.

You closed your eyes, listening to the symphony of morning sounds mingling with the steady rhythm of Lena's breathing. The faint calls of seagulls, the distant hum of the city waking up, all formed a backdrop to the intimate quiet of your hotel room. You felt the bed shift as Lena rolled over, muttering something in her sleep as she flopped onto you, her breath puffing gently against your collarbones. You gazed down at her, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she dreamt. There was something magical about these quiet mornings you had grown to love, the world outside moving at its own pace while you and Lena enjoyed the luxury of stillness. You could feel the rise and fall of her chest, each breath syncing with yours in a timeless, perfect rhythm.

Your mind wandered back to the adventures and challenges of the past year. Moving to a new country had been daunting, with the language barrier, the differences, and the new playing style, but Lena had been your anchor through it all. Her unwavering support made the transition easier, helping you establish yourself in the team and navigate the new league. She had encouraged you to return to Barcelona whenever you could. Christmas had been a whirlwind of travel, stopping off quickly to see Lena’s family before spending New Year's in the Spanish city. You savoured your time in the city you once called home, basking in the sun that seemed too rare in Munich.

As the minutes passed, the city outside grew livelier, the sounds of daily life becoming more pronounced; the workers on their morning commutes, the tourists discovering the metropolis. Yet, in your cosy haven, time seemed to slow down. You stroked Lena's back gently, your touch light and reverent. The sun continued to rise, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in warmth and light.

You felt a deep sense of contentment as you lay there, holding each other. Moments slipped past as you reminisced on the season gone by - the highest joys, the lowest lows, and the simple moments in between. Everything seemed so … complete … yet so different from how you would have imagined your life.

Eventually, Lena stirred again, this time her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at you, her gaze sleepy but filled with affection. "Guten Morgen," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," you replied softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

She smiled a slow, sweet smile that made your heart swell. "Hast Du gut geschlafen?"

"I did. It was perfect," you said, and it was true. With Lena beside you, everything was perfect.

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked drowsily, her hand coming to rub the sleep from her eye.

“Um… a little after 8, I think,” you replied, glancing at the blinking clock on the edge of the TV.

Lena groaned softly, snuggling closer to you. "Do we have to get up yet?"

You chuckled, running your fingers through her hair. "Not just yet. We have some time before we need to head out."

"Gut," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ich möchte noch ein bisschen so bleiben.”

You tightened your arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her body against yours. “Ok, Liebe.” The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment.

The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, the energy palpable and infectious. Thousands of Culers filled the stands, making it feel like you were back at the Johan for an El Clásico; flags were waved high, scarves were held aloft, and faces were painted in Blaugrana. As the clock ticked down to kickoff, the noise level increased. Chants and songs erupted from different sections of the stadium, each group of supporters trying to outdo the other. Drums pounded rhythmically, creating a heartbeat that pulsed through the crowd. The sound of drums and air horns added to the cacophony, a symphony of support that echoed through the vast arena.

As you weaved your way through the crowd, you felt Lena’s hand skim your lower back, her fingers resting on the bare skin. You looked back over your shoulder, smiling at her as you caught her eye.

“Stay close to me, Schatz,” she called, her body moving closer subconsciously. “I don’t want you to get lost.” You smiled at her concern, switching the half-full cup in your other hand to interlock your fingers with hers.

“Now, you can’t go anywhere either,” you teased, pressing a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

The two of you continued to navigate through the throng of fans, stopping occasionally to take photos of each other and with the fans, the excitement around you intensifying with every step. The smell of food mixed with the fresh scent of the afternoon air, creating an intoxicating blend that was quintessentially football. Vendors shouted their wares, adding to the lively atmosphere, while children darted between legs, their faces alight with the joy of the occasion. This … this is what helped you fall in love with the game as a little girl – balancing high on your parent's shoulders, joining in on the chants until your voice was hoarse, grinning so widely your face hurt.

The stadium loomed large above you, the sun beating down, promising a perfect day for football. As you reached your seats, you felt a rush of exhilaration. The view of the pitch was perfect, and you could see the players warming up, their movements sharp and precise. Lena squeezed your hand, her excitement mirroring your own.

“Starting XIs … go,” she laughed as you demanded her answer. You bickered the time away, questioning the potential lineups, the tactics, the score line.

The crowd's energy reached a fever pitch as the players took their positions on the field, and the referee prepared to blow the whistle. The roar that erupted when the game began was deafening, a collective outpouring of passion and support. You and Lena were swept up in the moment, cheering and clapping along with everyone else, your hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the match. You had no time to reminisce about the sadness you had felt a few days ago – longing for this to be you on the field. But, as Lena reminded you, there was always next year. And it was your family down on the grass. Your family was preparing for this moment, but there was no way you were missing this because of what? You were feeling a little sad for yourself.

The stadium erupted in a chorus of cheers and chants as Barcelona clinched their fourth Champions League, three consecutive victories. The air crackled with jubilation, fans embracing strangers and loved ones alike, swept up in the euphoria of the Blaugrana victory. You and Lena joined in the celebrations, caught up in the wave of emotion that swept through the stands. Fireworks lit up the sky above the stadium, illuminating the faces of jubilant supporters. You barely noticed the tears streaming down your face until Lena tenderly wiped them away.

“Schatz?” she asked carefully, her lips brushing the shell of your ear to be heard above the noise.

“Hmm?” you sigh, looking up at her. She was awfully close; a slight readjustment and your lips would be on hers.

“Bist du bei mir?”

“Yeh,” you breathed out, leaning into her hand resting on your cheek.

“Do you want to go down to the pitch to see everyone?” she asked. You nodded slowly, still dazed by her closeness, drunk on her cinnamon scent. “C’mon,” she smiled, lacing your fingers together as she tugged you down the steps. You could see the huddle of players doing their lap of the pitch. You spotted familiar faces beaming into the crowd, waving as they found their personal supports.

You didn’t have to wait long before Clàudia spotted you, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Oh, Déu meu, Oh, Déu meu, Oh, Déu meu," she exclaimed, practically pulling you over the barrier into a warm hug.

“Cuidadosa, Clàu,” you chuckled, reciprocating her tight embrace. Her infectious enthusiasm swept you up, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Help a girl onto the pitch?” you teased, amused as she hoisted you over the metal barrier.

“You too, Lena.” She smiled, offering a hand to your girlfriend.

As you watched Lena gracefully navigate over the barrier, you suddenly felt a weight on your back, causing you to stagger briefly. The arms wrapped around you were pale with light freckles adorned with familiar tattoos. "Usted vino," came the cheerful voice from behind you.

“Of course I came, Oni. Not a chance in hell I would miss this," you replied, twisting awkwardly to reciprocate her hug. You both spun around playfully, laughing at Ona’s delighted squeals. "Vamos, Oni, get down so I can give you a proper hug," you chuckled, patting her forearm gently.

She embraced you tightly, conveying in that moment all the unspoken words and emotions of your time apart and the joy of the occasion. "Felicitaciones, Oni. Estoy muy orgulloso de ti," you whispered in her ear, feeling her hold tighten in response.

"Desearía que todavía estuvieras jugando con nosotros," Ona murmured wistfully, her voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no tears," you insisted gently, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. "I miss playing with you too. I missed my favourite defender when I’m over in Germany. But no thinking about that today. This is your moment." You shook your head with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Because my best friend has another Champions League title with her childhood club!" You swayed gently from side to side, celebrating quietly together.

After a few more precious moments locked in each other's arms, you gently nudged her towards her waiting family on the edge of the pitch. Watching her run off, you meandered through the players until you found Lucy.

"What number's this?" you teased, tapping her on the head playfully.

"Fuck off," she laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you leaned into her.

"So, how's Munich treating you?" Lucy asked casually as if you hadn't been catching up frequently over the phone with Ona, her often joining in on the conversations.

"It’s been great; I’m really happy," you nodded to yourself – the circumstances of your arrival might not have been the best, but you certainly weren’t regretting going.

"I’m glad to hear that. Gee mentioned you seem a lot happier now," Lucy remarked.

"Keeping tabs on me, Luce?" you grinned.

“Of course, I have, kid. You’re basically my future-sister-in-law.” she teased. You froze momentarily.

"What?" you exclaimed, briefly stunned. "Have you? You better not be fucking with me, Bronze!"

“Chill, chill. Not yet, I haven’t. But I’ve got a ring, that’s for sure.” Lucy grinned mischievously, her words hanging in the air between you two. Your heart raced with the implications of her statement, and you stared at her in disbelief. You gawked at her, mouth hanging open. You blinked a few times, processing the absolute insanity that was running through your mind. You saw her bite her lip somewhat nervously. Was she anxious that you’d disapprove? You squealed, leaping onto her, joining in with the chorus of laughter.

“She’ll say yes, you know that, right?” you promised her

“That’s the plan,” Lucy joked, and you chuckled, pulling her happily into another hug.

“When?” you moved closer to her, your hand automatically coming to cover your lips.

“Probably depending on the outcome of the Euros. If she wins or we win again, then probably the first chance I get. Assuming it’s not the World Cup all over again,” she laughed a little. “If not, then when we’re on holiday afterwards.”

“Never would I thought I’d see the day,” you mocked, laughing as you brought her into another hug.

“You know … Gee mentioned something about you saving up? And that you’ve been asking Harder and Eriksson about holiday destinations? I think jewellery shops were involved,” she said casually. You blushed at her insinuation, the hue deepening as she snickered at your expression.

“Mind your business, Bronzey. When there’s something concrete to tell you, you know Ona will be the first to know, and by default, you’ll be the second.” You looked over at Lena. The way she had so seamlessly slotted into your life made your heart swell. You smiled as she laughed with Patri and slung her arm freely around Vicky.

“Oi, Lucia. Stop hogging, the pequeña.” Mapí called out, waving you both over to the gathered group of players. Lucy rolled her eyes playfully at Mapí's interruption but kept her arm around you as you walked towards the others. You couldn't shake off the mix of excitement and nervousness that Lucy's revelation had sparked in you. The group looked up as you approached, their smiles widening at seeing you and Lucy together again.

“What’s got you two all giggly?” Keira asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity. Of course, Lucy would have told Keira about her plan.

Lucy glanced at you with an impish grin before speaking, “Oh, just discussing some future plans.”

Your cheeks flushed as Lena turned to you, a puzzled expression on her face. “Future plans, huh? Care to share?”

“Nope,” you said hastily,

“All in good time, Oberdorf. For now, let’s just enjoy the moment.” Lucy grinned even wider, wiggling her eyebrows at the confused German, clearly enjoying the moment.

Slowly, you were ushered off the pitch by the officials, their gentle reminders of moving to the changing rooms and family boxes drowned out by the exuberant celebrations around you. The floodlights cast long shadows across the grass, and the deafening cheers of fans echoed through the stadium, but amidst the joy and chaos, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness over the absence of a particular blonde. She was there; you had seen the familiar bounce of her ponytail through the crowd, but every time you tried to reach her, she had disappeared again, swallowed up by the sea of people.

Determined, you stood on your tiptoes, craning your neck to see above the throng, searching for that familiar face. Your heart raced with anticipation and a hint of frustration.

“Buscando a alguien?” Her familiar voice cut through the noise, and you jumped, startled.

“Christ on a bike. Give a girl a heart attack why don’t you?” you grumbled teasingly, turning to face her.

“Lo siento.” Alexia smiled down at you, her laughter bubbling up, making you press a hand to your chest dramatically to calm your racing heart. You playfully shoved her shoulder before she pulled you into a warm hug. God, you had missed these. Alexia’s hugs were safe, comforting like a mother’s embrace, a sanctuary where you could rest for a moment amidst the chaos.

“Proud of you, Ale,” you murmured into her shoulder, your voice thick with emotion.

Alexia chuckled, the sound vibrating through your entire body, grounding you.

“Thank you, pequeña,” she said softly, her accent thick and endearing. Her words were like a balm to your soul. “I’m proud of you, too, you know.” You felt a flush of warmth at her words, a mixture of pride and affection swelling in your chest. The noise of the celebration faded into the background as you tightened your arms around her waist, feeling her solid, reassuring presence. You relaxed completely when you felt her place her cheek on your head, the gentle pressure conveying a depth of love and pride that words could never fully capture. “You’ve done good, cariño.”

The world around you continued to roar in celebration, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of mutual respect and affection. You felt like you were 16 again, new to Barcelona and needed a steady presence to guide you. She hugged you warmly and promised to always be there for you. You breathed in her familiar scent, a mix of sweat, grass, and a hint of her favourite perfume, and let out a contented sigh.

“Ahora, entonces,” she said letting you go. “Lucy mencionó algo sobre las joyerías en Munich?”

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narcissistshandler · 1 year

Text

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘, 𝗕𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧

and here we go again in more smuts I write in 40 minutes randomly overnight. the choso part in the trailer keeps popping up for me all over my social media, so that's for everyone who has this man as husband! top!amab! reader and bottom!choso below. this was written to be read as gn, so if anything is wrong please let me know!

Choso always made the cutest sounds during sex. He was a very domestic and simple man, most of the time he would ask you in a soft voice to turn off the lights before continuing what you were doing, (even though you two knew the darkness of the room did little to hide the flush in his face, his open mouth in an involuntary movement or how his cock twitched at the smallest of compliments). He usually liked looking at your face during sex and blushed like a virgin when you tried anything in daylight. And after one of the neighbors complained about the noise, Choso not only started to avoid them, he also started to have a habit that you hated:

He started trying to be as quiet as possible in bed.

You weren't happy about it. It was hard to actually hear any of the moans or whimpers your husband made when you fucked him exactly like he had wanted all day during which he tried to show you with the eyes - it was never a difficult task, considering you were always itching to have him under you, anytime.

What sounded like a snarl reached your ears, muffled by the pillow Choso was hugging to his face, your pillow.

Your fingers dug into his lean hips, ring sunk into his skin in a way that should hurt and thumbs pressing hard over the knobby bones you pulled him back against you with each thrust, so hard that every time your thighs and his ass met, the twinge of pain shot through your senses.

In the low light, his long hair blended into the darkness and your shadow fell over his torso. You two were completely naked, skin to skin, and even condom use had been discarded when you entered into a relationship.

You liked having him like this, with no barriers between you, raw and messy and wet. Choso liked it too, as much as he never said it out loud, you knew.

He also liked it when you came inside him. It left him feeling used and dirty and belonging to you. It was another one of those things that would be hard to get him to admit, but that was okay too.

"I am close." Your voice filled the stuffy air in the room.

All the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, both the front door and the bedroom door were locked, making it difficult for air to circulate. The idea of getting caught during sex by anyone was mortifying to Choso to the point where he didn't even like you using the scenario as dirty talk.

Big brother thing, you concluded, even if today only you and choso were home.

Choso's knuckles turned white where he gripped the pillow, so hard that the ripping sound rang out, the golden band of the wedding ring shining even in the dark on his finger. His hole tightened around you, helping the boiling sensation of pleasure just build in your stomach.

Your hips reacted on their own, shooting forward, back into your husband's relaxed, wet hole.

"Where should I come?" you questioned, wheezing occasionally interrupting your speech. "Should I take it off?"

It was a mere tease, as you knew how possessive Choso was when it came to your cum, he hated it being wasted, but in his delusional pleasure mind, that should have sounded more like an threat.

He seemed to mutter an irritated reply that was once again muffled by the pillow.

"I can't understand what you're talking, darling," you said as you started to back away, leaving Choso's warmth. You had to fight the immediate urge to just shove back in him and fuck him until you came.

The response was immediate, Choso's hole tightening so hard it looked like it wanted to suck your cock. He pushed the pillow away, allowing you to see the trace of tears on his face and the mess of saliva on his chin.

Beautiful.

"D-don't take it off," he pleaded sweetly. Maybe because he'd been fucked for so long his voice sounded loud, almost like a scream he didn't seem aware of. "In-inside... C-come in me." He repeated, sounding desperate: "Come in me."

And who were you to deny him anything?

Using your grip on his hips, you began to fuck him, eagerly, almost violently. Your cock eased in and out of him, being engulfed by the heat of his tight walls.

Choso's lips were trembling, his whole body was trembling - you noticed right away - and you wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. But you forced yourself to just watch as his eyes rolled back, his arms hugging the pillow to his chest as the husky, sweet moans you loved most fell from his mouth.

Your nails pressed into his skin and you came, hard, hips swaying in erratic thrusts to enjoy the pleasure coursing through you. Your cock twitched and spurted inside him, marking his entrails with your belongings.

Choso gasped for air, body writhing on the sheets and you saw the exact moment he came all over his stomach and your pillow. Coming into him was enough to send him into his own orgasm.

Now you kissed him, grabbing the pillow between your chests and throwing it towards the floor. You swallowed each of his sighs; sweat and semen forming a mess between your bodies and before the memory of the inconvenient neighbor and the anxiety of being heard by strangers during sex returned, you rotated your hips in slow circles still inside him, extracting every reaction and every ounce of pleasure from him and gently led him on for a second round, then a third...

Then, you made Choso so loud that none of the neighbors had the nerve to come and complain the next day. Inflamed by it, after being fucked to the point he limped the next day and his throat got hoarse, he never tried to hide his moans from you ever again, even at the risk of being heard by his younger brothers.

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scaredpigeons · 8 months

Text

Aqua Regia VII: Saturate me, I can’t get enough.

Previous chapter // First Chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Warning: SMUT NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.7k

Conifer forests quake in fear at the way you two pine. What do you get when you cross a very pent up dragon and the object of his affections? So much fucking love it will rot your teeth.

CW: sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (fem rec) neuvillette has a dragon tongue, claws appear but no wounds are made, Neuvillettes nest™️ nicknames: my dearest, my darling, love, pretty girl, perfect girl, very gendered language, im sorry :( unrealistic first time sex, multiple orgasms, implied multiple rounds.

Authors note: this is so fucking mushy gushy heavy fluff heavy romance. I literally couldn’t write his first time being any other way. He’s obsessed, okay? There is a lot of declarations of love, devotion, very flowery and flattering language. There are not many things hotter than an all powerful being declaring their utter devotion to you and then fucking you until the sun rises. I left it a little open ended, so maybe an epilogue chapter, if y’all are interested? Anyways, remember to reblog and comment your thoughts! It’s my literal favourite thing to read your opinions and compliments, even if you’re shy, just send an anon ask! I love you all, thank you so much for your support on this piece.

————————————

The sound of little pearls scattering onto the floor accompanied the press of your spine against the inside of Neuvillette’s front door as his mouth consumed yours.

You were panting, hands roaming over each other as your tongues danced. You’d never kissed like this before. The polite pecks you’ve given men after failed dates were nothing compared to the way Neuvillette drank in your lips like they were the finest water in the world.

His large, lean body pushed you against the fine wood of his door, hands pressing up into your hair as he pulled your face ever closer, scattering more little pearls along his entryway.

“Do you…” he panted, lips never leaving yours for more than necessary. “Truly want tea?” He asked.

You smiled as he continued to kiss you breathless. “Tea can wait.”

He picked you up and hoisted you against him once more, your bottom resting on his forearms as he twirled you around, making you giggle and squeal.

“Your perfection knows no bounds.” He murmured against your lips as he began to move towards the stairs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you up the stairs and down the hall, but he hesitated before bringing you into what you guessed was his room.

“Ah…” he said, a deeper blush working its way into his pale skin. “I forgot about my… well you see…”

You smiled, pulling him closer to press a peck to his lips. ”What? I can hardly imagine your room is messy, Neuvillette.”

He closed his eyes tight, opening the door to set you down inside. You turned, looking around the room.

A very large four poster bed was the main focal point of the room, lush sheer curtains hanging from the tall frame, making it seem luxurious and inviting. But the piles of silks, pillows and blankets surrounding the mattress making a large circle in the center was what stood out the most to you. Taking a step closer, you could see there were little things scattered throughout the barrier, the gloves you’d gifted him last month, a few shirts and coats, little trinkets and things here and there.

Your brow furrowed before you turned to look up at him, finding him looking between you and the bed with a hand covering the lower half of his face.

“It looks like…” you glanced back at the bed. “It looks like a nest?”

He breathed, nodding, pinching his temples in embarrassment. “When you were last here, we spoke of some subtle changes I’d been experiencing since gaining my full dragonhood, yes?”

You nodded, walking towards the bed to run your hands along the fabrics making up the walls of the nest.

“I’ve been experiencing strange urges, instincts I cannot seem to control no matter how hard I try.” He said lowly, somewhere behind you.

The blanket you ran your hands across was soft, fur of some sort, and it felt so luxurious you wanted to bury your face in it and never leave its soothing embrace.

“Urges?” You said, feeling a heat pool between your thighs at the thought.

“Yes.” His voice was suddenly right by your ear, his heat pressing up against your spine. “For example, right now, seeing you next to my bed, admiring my nest— it makes me want to pick you up and place you within it so that I may crawl over top of you to do deplorable, feral and unspeakable things to you.”

A deep, spine tingling shiver raced through you. You knew the general direction of where this was headed when you begged him to take you to his house, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect Neuvillette to admit something so… dirty… so openly.

You turned, meeting his eyes with a gasp as you came face to face with a version of your leader you’d never seen.

He was flushed, panting, his eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming into his dark room. His horns were glowing too, their blue hue radiating behind him as he loomed over you. To anyone else it might’ve been intimidating, but you felt so safe in this moment, so satisfied to know that he wanted you.

“I…” you wondered how you should phrase this, how to make him understand that you were not put off in the slightest by any of these changes in him. To you, he was still Neuvillette. His draconian quirks made him all the more desirable because it was just another part of him.

“I’d like to help you satisfy those urges, if you’ll let me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes.

Very suddenly, he dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at your dress. The act startled you, and you stumbled back, bumping into the walls of fabrics lining his nest.

”I am undeserving,” he whimpers, and your legs nearly give out at how broken he sounds in this moment, looking up at you. “I know not how to pleasure you in the way you are so deserving, I only have these instincts, these feelings pushing me to take.”

He stumbled forward, almost blindly on his knees as his eyes kept yours locked to him. He pushes his face closer to your core, inhaling deeply against the fabric of your dress, his eyes fluttering back.

“And you always smell so sweet, it eats at my very soul to not taste you at every moment of every day.” His eyes look like they’re watering, begging and pleading as he keeps talking, keeps sending waves of pleasure to your core with every word spoken.

“You deserve more than this animal I’ve become, but I cannot help that you undo me. You unravel the very stitching that I have woven over these past five hundred years and the thought terrifies me because—“ he’s panting, chest heaving, hands gripping the crushed velvet of your gown. “Because I want you so completely, so entirely. My want for you consumes my very being.”

Your heart sings, because how could it not? You didn’t have very much experience with anything like this either— really none at all. And he was worried? He was worried he was too much? Not enough? This man was the sovereign ruler of a nation. The elemental dragon of your land, a primordial being with more power than you could even begin to fathom.

“Oh, Neuvillette,” you brought a hand to cup his cheek, the very same action you made the last time you were in his home, comforting him. “Will you do something for me?”

He clutched you closer, pupils nearly consuming his irises. “I would drain the seas if you told me you did not favor the way they glimmer in the sunshine. I would blot out the sun if you told me you did not enjoy the heat on your skin. Anything, my dearest. Anything for you.”

“Give in to it.” And you swore you could feel the breath catching in his chest. “Take me and give me everything your heart desires, because I am already yours.”

”Truly?” He pleaded, seeming so small below you.

You nodded, speaking softly to him as you ran your fingertips across his cheekbone. “From the moment I entered your office Neuvillette, I’ve been yours.”

Your world flipped upside down as Neuvillette lunged, tackling you over the wall of his nest and into the bed.

He kissed you so deeply it stole your breath away, you gasped as he pulled back to mouth across your jaw, nipping at your throat.

You noticed his teeth had grown sharper during your fervent kissing, but feeling those teeth drag like little daggers against the delicate skin of your throat made you shiver with something like fear— but it was laced with arousal, with anticipation.

You moaned as he licked and sucked on your neck, and he whimpered above you, clutching your waist as he went.

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry—“ he said between kisses along your skin. “I can’t control myself, I can't—“

You reached up, grabbing his face in your hands, making him look at you.

“Neuvillette, listen to me.” His eyes fluttered between yours, searching.

“When I told you I love you, that means I love you without conditions.” You said, leaning up to kiss his lips gently. “Which means I will love you when you are poise and regal, when you are the perfect gentleman, but I will also love you when you are not.”

You could see iridescent blue scales rising into his skin, framing his eyes so beautifully. You could see them form around his throat, and his horns continued to glow. When he told you he was becoming undone, you knew he was serious, but you didn't realize what exactly that would entail.

He was beautiful. Raw and open and completely yours.

“I will love you even if you are rough, or crude, or selfish. I will not watch you suffer against your instincts when I so desperately wish to see you dive headfirst into them.”

The subtlest of tears formed in his eyes, and the rain continued to batter the windows outside, pouring down around you— the perfect symphony to accompany this moment.

“I love every aspect of you, Neuvillette. Even this. Please,” you whispered, pulling him ever closer to your lips. “Please, just take what you need. Take me.”

———————————

He does not remember how your dress and petticoat managed to find themselves sprawled across his bedroom floor, or when his gloves and shirt followed, but he does remember the delightful squeak you gave when he tore them from your body.

You were shy, of course you were— but he was having none of that, gently and selfishly pinning your arms against the bed as his eyes consumed your body, your naked skin.

You squirmed and whimpered underneath him, and part of Neuvillette worried that you weren’t enjoying yourself— but the closer he came to your lower half the more he realized that the source of that mouthwatering smell was coming from between your legs, and his mouth did indeed water.

You had told him to let go of his restraint, to give in, but he had the sense to keep part of himself in check, knowing he needed to be somewhat gentle, attentive to your needs.

What knowledge he did have of this process was from books, and even then, he thinks the last time he read a romance novel was likely over a century ago.

He knew basic anatomical structures, their functions, but putting it all into practice was another thought entirely.

Through his lust filled haze of admiring your naked body, he swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth— so barbaric.

“Tell me,” he panted. “Tell me how to make this pleasurable for you.”

You were so red, it fluttered down to your chest, and he watched as your breasts heaved with each breath. He wanted to wrap his lips around them, suck on the delicate skin, so he did.

You whined as he leaned down, and he loved the feeling of your hands mussing up his hair, pulling his golden circlet away and tossing it into the void that had captured the rest of your clothes with a clattering sound.

“You, ah—” your breaths were heavy. “You have to work me open. So you don’t tear me.”

He gripped your waist again, licking and sucking gracelessly across your chest, just enjoying the taste of your skin.

“How?” He asked, tonguing his way down to your navel, slipping his tongue around the skin of your adorable stomach. Your skin tasted like pure relief, calming the aching fever inside of him one motion of his tongue at a time.

“F-fingers?” You said, looking down at his hands. He looked too, and you both seemed to notice at the same time that his hands weren’t exactly… normal anymore.

Those pesky scales had wound up coating his hands too, he could feel them aching around his eyes and throat, his nails forming long black claws that dragged the faintest red lines along your perfect skin.

“Hah— yeah,” you breathed a panicked laugh, making his chest flutter with anxiety. “Maybe no fingers this time.”

“What about my tongue?” He said, looking between your eyes and the apex of your thighs. He wanted so desperately to make this good for you, but he couldn't deny that the thought of tasting that delicious smell directly from the source was a more than appetizing idea.

You groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your flushed face. “You say it so casually, too—“

“Would you enjoy it if I used my tongue, darling?”

He watched your thighs clench the best they could with him between your legs, and your hands started shaking.

“Yes,” you whimpered, hands still covering your heated face. “Yes please.”

Your thighs quivered as he shifted down, his nostrils flaring as he came face to face with your covered core.

There was a small damp spot on the soft cotton covering you, and he brought his nose directly to it, inhaling deep and groaning as you whined.

He was truly drooling now, and the desire to taste you became too overwhelming for him to wait any longer.

The cotton was shredded off your body in delicate ribbons in the wake of his claws, but before you could react, his tongue was already swiping over the entire length of you.

“Oh!” Your back arched sinfully off the bed, your hands gripping into his hair as he swallowed and sucked and licked over you. You tasted like perfection. No water in the world could taste as crisp and pure as you did— like sweet ambrosia, like everything he never knew he needed until now.

He tongued over your clitoris, and you seemed to like that the most, keening out as he increased the pressure. But you said you needed to be worked open, which meant…

He pressed his tongue lower, circling it around your twitching hole. You jumped, your nails scraping his scalp— making him moan into you. Your fingers flexed around the base of his horns, and his whole body shuddered as he listened to you whine and keen.

He pressed in then, eyes blowing wide as a warm, tight heat enveloped the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further, pulling himself closer to press more of himself inside you.

”Neuvillette!” You gasped out as he pushed in further. Even so, He couldn't help but feel like it wasn’t enough, like you needed more.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his tongue seemed to expand, thickening and rolling out into your twitching walls even further. He’d never felt a change like that before, but he kept going, moving and undulating it within your tight heat and savoring the taste of you so deep.

”Holy—“ you screeched, “Oh my Archons!”

A deep, chest rumbling growl reverberated from where Neuvillette was pressed into your core, and even though he knew it wasn’t truly a problem, something inside him did not enjoy hearing those words slip from your precious lips.

But you told him to let go, so he truly did lean into his instincts.

He pulled his tongue from within you, letting its new length dangle from his mouth a bit before licking up all the slick that had smeared across his face, delighted at the way your eyes popped and your mouth gaped open.

“There are no pathetic gods here, little one.” He growled, that primal aching welling up in his chest. “Only me.”

“N-Neuvillette,” you stuttered, hands grabbing at his hair as you tried to pull him between your legs again. “Please—“

“Better.”

He dove back in, using the new length of his tongue to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. He could feel your soft walls relaxing, and a deep, rumbling purr pulled from his chest as you writhed and moaned beneath him.

Tasting you like this, feeling you move and cry out beneath his hold… it was slowly soothing the ache inside of him that had been tormenting him for months. He could feel himself twitching in his pants, his cock pressing against the confines as it leaked all over the fine material of his pants and briefs.

In the back of his mind, he was grateful he had enough of a grip on his form to not be sporting one of his more… alarming draconic features, surely that would frighten you far too much to continue. Well, perhaps another time.

He continued his thrusting, working you open and relishing in the wetness coating his tongue, in the way you cried out his name, your fingertips brushing against his horns as you pulled at his hair. It only served to make him drool more, soaking you even further.

“Neuvillette—“ you keened as he arched his tongue upwards, feeling your walls clench and quiver around him. He repeated the motion, making you slap your hands down to the bed beside you, grasping at the sheets as your eyes popped wide.

He continued to press against the spot that seemed to make you fall deeper into your pleasure, his eyes never leaving your face as he thrust his tongue with vigor, watching as you quivered.

Yes, something inside him purred, watching you lose yourself. Keep going, take it from her.

He felt the moment your walls tightened so completely that he thought something might be wrong— only to watch as your face shattered into a broken sob of pure delight, your whole body twitching as you cried out. Your thighs tried to clamp around his head, but he pressed further, working you through it with his writhing tongue.

After a few moments of him working you through the height of your pleasure, you grasped at his hair again, only now you were pushing him back, gasping as your body violently twitched.

“Too much—“ you squeaked. “T-too much!”

He pulled back from you, licking your remaining juices from his lips as he watched you regain your breath.

You threw an arm over your eyes, your every breath heaving in your chest as parts of your body twitched in the aftershocks.

He crawled over your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he purred and murmured against your skin to comfort you.

”Your taste is divine,” he whispered. “Better than I ever could have dreamed, and my dreams were always drenched in your image.”

“I—“ you sighed, finally pulling air into your chest unlabored. “I dream of you too.”

“Oh?” He purred, smiling against your skin as he ran his hands down your arms. “And what exactly do you dream of, dearest?”

You smiled, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding his gaze with flushed cheeks.

“Your eyes.” You whispered, glancing down at him. “I dream of the way you look at me.”

———————

You knew this was going to be a lot.

Neuvillette is not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but you always figured he would at least be a reasonable size — whatever that may be.

Clearly your expectations were a little on the small side, because when he unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down and off his body, exposing his naked skin in all its glory, your eyes ached with how wide they were staring openly at the apex of his creamy white thighs.

Flushed a ruddy purplish red at the tip, it was literally leaking as he knelt between your spread legs. It twitched—he must’ve noticed your staring, and you chewed on your bottom lip, wondering how in all the abyss you were supposed to fit that thing inside of you.

Neuvillette was panting. He looked irrevocably desperate, like he was ready to burst at the seams at any moment.

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs further for him.

He hadn’t touched you since he took his pants off, just staring down at you as you drank him in, watching your reactions.

“Are…” he seemed strained, like the words themselves pained him. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whined. “Please, inside me, I want you inside.”

He seemed to bite back a groan, eyes roaming over your soaked core, your blush traveling down your chest. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips.

It was delicate, loving, nothing like the unrestrained devouring before, but it still seemed like he was holding himself back. A beautiful bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Neuvillette,” you murmured against his lips. “Please, I want it. I trust you, I want you, please.”

Your pleading seemed to stir him, and you could feel the hot press of his length against your aching hole. You didn't know what it would feel like, the anticipation making you tense up and hold your breath.

“Breathe, my love.” Neuvillette said, though he himself was shaking as his hands held him up above you. “Relax, breathe.”

You released a breath and the tension from your spine, melting into the pillows as he chose that moment to breach your entrance, the slick pooling out of you allowing him to slide the crown in with no resistance.

You keened, your back arching as you felt the first push. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!”

Neuvillette was still shaking, his voice quivering and yet he still found it within himself to chuckle, low and deep as his eyes fluttered across your face, drinking in your pleasured reactions.

“Such vulgar language,” he breathed. “Where’d my polite little assistant go?”

You swear your eyes were about to bulge out of your skull as he pushed another inch in, slowly, his body vibrating above you in restraint.

It wasn’t hurting, but the stretch was so intense it was turning your brain into mush. You never swear in front of Neuvillette, gods, you never curse in front of anyone but Wriothesley, but your brain seems to short circuit as Neuvillette enters your body one delicious inch at a time.

You were thankful you told him to stretch you out, thankful for that gods forsaken tongue that just came out of nowhere, long and thick and surprisingly serpentine.

“P-politeness isn’t really…” you tossed your head back in the blankets as he sunk in further. “Isn’t really my main focus… r-right now.”

“Ah, yes.” Neuvillettes words spoke confidence, but his voice was shaking, his arms vibrating as they held him above you. “We have more pressing things to focus on at the moment, don’t we?”

You groaned, half in embarrassment at his wordplay and half at the way he pulled out a bit just to press back in further.

He just licked up the column of your throat, that ridiculously long tongue making your whole body shiver in delight as he pressed in further.

“Holy f—“ you grabbed his forearms, leaning up the best you could to look down at where your bodies were connected. “How much more is there? It’s so… so…”

Your stomach flipped at how much you still had to go, how little your brain could comprehend that this weapon was supposed to fit inside you.

“Do you need me to stop, my darling? Is it too much for you?” Neuvillette breathed against your neck. His words spoke one thing, but it was like his body was screaming for you to say anything but.

“No!” You panicked a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him against your lips, kissing him filthy. “Please, don’t stop.”

It took a couple more minutes of gentle thrusting, the rough texture of this thumb swirling against your throbbing clit and some very messy kisses, but when his hips finally pushed flush against yours, your eyes rolled back in your head, mind finally vacating all thought in favor focusing on how blindingly full you felt.

“Oh,” Neuvillette breathed. “—My darling. My sweet, sweet girl.” His hips were frozen, probably taking in how you clenched around him, because you could feel it— the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around his length as he remained motionless.

He twitched, and you keened, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring his face level with yours, panting into his mouth. “Please,” you whined. “Please move.”

He shuddered before hesitantly bringing his hips back, watching your every breath as he pressed forward again.

The deep, guttural moan it pulled from your chest must have flipped some kind of switch within him, because all sense of hesitancy seemed to drain from his body as his hips began a desperate rhythm, smacking against yours.

“Ah!” Your back arched, eyes rolling into your skull as he finally, finally fucked you. “Neuvi— Neuvillette!”

His eyes seemed glazed over with emotions, looking down at you with so much wonder. His expression was strained, breaths coming short as his hands snaked down to your hips, leaning back up and away from your grip.

The change in angle, though minuscule, drastically altered the way his cock pummeled your insides. It was intense before, your mind was nearly floating in the clouds— but now his cock bullied itself along your most sensitive spot and pressed so deep within you, you were sure you could nearly taste it.

”Perfect,” he breathed. “My perfect, perfect girl. So warm and tight— it's like you were made to take me.”

Your brain had exited the atmosphere, and was now drifting away into the deep nothingness of space. You swore you could feel your orgasm welling in the pit of your core, making your legs shake where they were perched on Neuvillettes hips.

“It— it feels so good,” your words were starting to slur, your vision hazy with unshed tears of pure ecstasy as you blinked up at him. “I n-never— I never wanna stop. I want this forever.”

His hips never faltered, not even once as he shuddered and groaned, the sound making you clench down around him even more. His hands gripped your waist tighter, the black claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks.

A possessive sort of noise rumbled from his chest, his eyes flaring with need.

“I’ll give you all of myself until the end of time,” he murmurs, voice full of deep, rasping need. “Tell me you’re mine, I’ll give you everything.”

Your heart welled, your eyes blinking tears as your legs shook harder.

“I’m yours,” you cried. “I love you, Neuvillette. I’m yours.”

He pushed at your legs, hands grabbing your thighs to press them up and forward, nearly folding you in half as you sobbed out in pleasure. Your body ached, your orgasm now on the very precipice as he managed to fuck into you even deeper than before, and you didnt know how it was possible.

“Again.” He growled.

“I’m yours!” You keened.

His hands pressed harder into your thighs, his face leaning closer to yours. Through your haze, you could see how his pupils were blown wide, consuming all of his otherworldly irises. You could see how deeply he looked at you, drinking in your trembling form.

“Mine.” He whispered.

And that was all it took for the fraying cord inside you to snap.

You screamed into the darkness of his room, writhing and shaking as it pulsed through you, all consuming and more intense than anything you’d ever felt in your life. He gasped, muttering something in a language you didn't recognize as his hips stuttered. He pushed you through it, the mind melting pleasure pulsing out into your limbs, making you go limp into the bed.

His eyes were wild, and his pace slowed, hands holding onto you like you would slip away if he didn’t.

“My love,” he moaned, desperate as the fluttering aftershocks worked through you, your body twitching in the sensitive overstimulation. “My love, I want to— I need—“

“Inside me,” your voice cracked, hoarse from how loud you’d been in your revelry, but it only seemed to spur him on. “Please, inside me.”

And within the last three stuttering strokes, he was gone, his forehead pressing into yours as he leaned forward and moaned, long and wrecked and obscene. It made you flutter around him, milking him absolutely dry as he filled and filled and filled you.

You could feel it, hot and heavy— each jerk of him inside you coating you further, marking you in white, in the deepest places as his.

He was mumbling, his face moving to press into the curve of your neck and shoulder. Dazed, you couldn’t tell what he was saying— whether he was speaking in another language or if you were just too out of it to register his words.

You lifted an arm to rest on his back, feeling the heat and the sweat of him. Unfazed, you drag your hand up and down his shoulder blades, relishing in the feeling of his skin, his breath as he murmurs against your neck.

As your breath finally steadied in your lungs, no longer struggling, you ran your hands through his long, luscious hair, fingertips ghosting his horns.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said aloud, clear and in a language you understood. “I’m sorry.”

”What for?” You smiled, trying to get him to look at you. When you finally pried him from the crook of your shoulder, your heart skipped a beat at how flushed he still was, how guilty he looked.

It was then that you realized he was still inside you, still hard as before, twitching and throbbing as he held himself above you.

“You begged me to take you,” he breathed, clawed hands pulling at the sheets. “And I can’t help but crave more.”

————————————

The sun had just begun rising over the dewy cypress trees by the time Neuvillette sat in the warm bath, cradling you in his arms.

You twitched and groaned in displeasure as he ran the washcloth along your heated skin, but he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride at the marks scattered along your body.

He’d been too afraid to hurt you, but after the moan you let out when his teeth accidentally scraped across your collarbone during the second round, (or was it the third?) he’d lost all sense of decency. You seemed to like them as well, and you certainly liked when he ran his tongue across the red and purple splotches to soothe them. So, c’est la vie.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, you were barely conscious at this point, and he wanted to feel guilty, he really did. But you’d begged and begged and begged for him to take what he needed, how could he refuse?

He pulled the glass bottle he’d brought from the cooler to your lips, stirring you a bit to prompt you to drink.

“Please, my love. You need to rehydrate.” He smiled at the way you pouted, But opened your lips to take tentative sips anyways, your eyes still closed.

He watched a trail of water slip past your lax lips and run down your chin and throat, his eyes carefully following the movement. He swallowed deeply, willing away the erection that was still threatening the dark corners of his willpower.

He could honestly keep going, he couldn't get enough of you, but you were still so fragile, so incredibly mortal. He knew that he had to stop, give you a moment of reprieve. Force himself to behave until your sweet voice would sing to him again, begging him for more. He licked his lips at the thought.

“Are… are your urges… satisfied?” You mumbled as he pulled the bottle away. You cuddled up to him, so sleepy.

He thought very carefully on how to reply to you.

“For now, yes. They are, darling.” He finally said. “But I believe I will always desire you as strongly as I did then— as I do now, still.”

You gave a sleepy smirk, your eyes still closed as you snuggled closer to him, your bare skin pressed so beautifully against his.

This— this was perfect. He didn't think anything else could compare to the feeling of being inside you, so connected to your body and in tune with your emotions. But this… being with you, holding you and caring for you… it was just as beautiful. His heart felt full, and for the first time in months, he didn’t feel restless.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

You sighed wistfully. “Which part? Because when you said you were going to ‘spend the rest of your existence finding new ways to make me shatter into millions of delicious little pieces,’ I was rather inclined to believe you.”

He felt his cheeks heat a little. “Ah, well. I meant all of that too. But I’m referring to something I said earlier on in the evening.”

Your voice was wavering, and he could see sleep pulling at you, tugging you into its embrace one sleepy blink at a time. “Which part, my love?”

His chest still fluttered at those words, despite both of your endless proclamations of devotion and love last night, he was still so blissful at the prospect of being yours, of you being his. His love.

“The bit where I told you that I would give you all of me until the end of time. That I’ll give you everything.”

“Mm,” you said, eyes closed and words loose. “I know.”

He ran his hands along your back, his skin finally calmed down closer to the end of the night, his scales and claws retracting and freeing his fingers for nefarious purposes. But now, he was enjoying feeling your smooth skin against his own.

“I have things I must do, duties to this realm beyond that of my role as Iudex. It will be a long and perilous road, a road uneasy for myself and those I love. But in this, as in every other aspect of my life— I feel as though if you stood beside me, it would lighten the burden. You make every part of my life better, and I would be honored to have you beside me for the rest of time.”

He wasn’t sure how, but if he could free the people of Fontaine from their curse, surely he could find a way to keep you with him, if you so wished.

“Your voice is pretty,” you sighed. “I love you,” you were mumbling, and he realized you were already rather deep in the clutches of sleep, likely not even hearing a word he’d said.

He smiled, breathing out a sigh as he kissed the top of your head once more.

“Sleep well, my darling.”

La Fin.

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Authors Note: remember to drop a comment with your thoughts! I love you guys so much 🖤

#genshin impact #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvillette smut #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader smut #fem reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact smut

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noiseproblems · 3 months

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Insulate your performance space with an acoustic door seal kit

While creating a space for performance, sound is everything. While that might sound apparent, sometimes it is the smallest aspects of the venue that return the biggest benefits, and that attention to detail is what entices clients, performers and artists. At O’Neill Engineered Systems, we know that speaking of sound, there is no detail that is too big or too small when it comes to a door sound barrier.

Let us discuss about acoustics

Optimization for sound absorption in any space is not a simple undertaking. There are various things to consider as the project commences.

How loud is the space designed to be? Are there any connected areas that would suffer from vibration or loud music making its way beyond the space? Another thing that should be considered is how the room is constructed for sound, and other ways you can optimize and build for acoustics with an acoustic door seal kit.

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#Door sound barrier #Acoustic door seal kit #Noise curtains #Mass loaded vinyl curtains

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noiseproblemsonline · 2 years

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Sound blankets are great for soundproofing

This Christmas, my children have asked for some musical equipment. It appears the boys would like to try their hand in setting up their own garage band. I marveled how I could assist them pursue their interests without annoying the whole neighborhood with the sound of the musicians in training.

After doing a bit research and taking stock of the garage, it appeared as although industrial acoustic windows were the secret to making the band project work.

We decided to commence with some garage door installation to safeguard the children against drafts. This excellent product has a reflective finish, making it ideal to reflect the heat from the ceramic wall heaters we plan on adding back into the space. Next we bought some sound blankets.

Sound barrier walls have long been used to restrict the amount of noise that can be heard within the cavity of the building. Equipments which are used in building sites and factories include heavy machinery and forklifts. They amount of power they use is immense and may be overpowering for their operators. Noise barrier walls are installed to control the amount of sound that goes out of the room.

Safeguarding the hearing of those that work with industrial machinery is the main use of sound barrier walls and should be the priority of any staff.

One of the additional sound curtains work as furniture cover for our unsightly friend, the mattress left over from our college days. I doubt there will be tennis shoes and soda pop all across the futon and the blanket will keep it looking better and longer. There you have it. Next time your pre-teens go looking for their musical soul, don’t sweat it. Just pick up sound blankets and get ready to bask yourself.

#Industrial Acoustic Windows #Sound Blankets #Sound Barrier Walls #sound curtains

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comfortless · 6 months

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got a startling number or requests for this, so here’s a part two for captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader..!

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au, dubious consent, slightly rough smut, abduction.

On the twelfth day, you finally understand how to punish König.

The nightly incidents have grown more frequent, sometimes thrice before the sun rises. Even once when you had caught his eye from across the yard whilst he bathed in the pond. A heavy hand had curled around his manhood with the most obscene words you had ever heard a man speak spilling from his panting mouth.

You merely stared like an innocent fawn in the face of a starved hunter then, but as the day passed a deep sorrow seemed to take root, one that should have been left well enough alone. König is not an animal, but… he is an unwed brute whose very appearance had most of the servant girls running for their quarters with their hands shoved protectively into the laps of their skirts.

He’s lonely. You had reasoned that must be why he’s so hellbent on torturing you to tears, to harass you with that leaking, throbbing pillar between his thighs. His insults have come to a stop. The man you took in for a pouch of copper is more of a pity than a terror at all.

With the sleepless nights beginning to weigh down on you, puppeting yourself day by day grows to be the most awful task. He’s always lurking close: it’s what he’s here for. König’s eyes never stray from you.

It’s getting to him, too.

The midwife, of course, shyly told you that a lady of your status should hold fast to her maidenhood until the eve of her wedding. But… once the dutiful words had been spilled, she immediately followed them with laughter, explaining that some men just needed to be subjugated, hinting that that was possibly the solution to what has you so downtrodden.

You couldn’t help yourself, not when he glanced up at you in the midst of training, his sightless mimicry of an opponent made up of wood already felled and settled into the dust at his feet. You could always feign your innocence, accuse him of imagining things should he say a word. Though, you’re guilty, just as guilty as him as you reveal your body to him where you sat perched upon the window sill.

The fluttering, innocent fabric of your gown is pulled from your shoulders and pushed down your hips to pool upon the floor. The laces of your corset are hastily untied to follow down. The underdress is all but torn away when you notice the way he halts in place, jaw tightening and eyes going wide.

Like the most malevolent of nymphs, you don’t offer him a taste when he comes storming into the castle chasing that glint of hope. You wind yourself through the halls, fully clothed as he huffs and growls just beyond your shoulder of how it is cruel and dangerous to tease a man.

Something about the way he boasts of doing so much for you to receive so little in turn conjures laughter from your throat. It is not often you’re able to treat a man this way, and even less often have you learned a thing about war, but you’ve certainly turned the tables in this ridiculous battle.

Those warnings of his fall entirely on deaf ears.

Then comes the night you no longer sense him positioned beyond your door. You sleep uninterrupted and warm, safely tucked between layers of cloth and down. The comfort of not being stirred awake by clamoring and grunting jolts you up with worry, because by this time it’s unnatural.

The peace of the night is heavy; the castle is entirely silent, no heavy soles meeting stone floors or hushed voices whispering secrets. There are crickets chirping beyond your window where a cool breeze drifts in to flutter curtains, but not a sound otherwise.

You push past your own apprehension to try the door, to seek him out with your innocent fretting, only to find that past that wooden barrier no one is stood guard.

A torch is lit and stationed upon the wall in König’s place, and the looming darkness further down the blackened hall feels so inexplicably ominous that your courage is diminished the second you place you find your footing over the threshold of the door and step out to have it envelope you in full.

König is not the only thing that would swallow you whole if you allowed it.

The realization dawns on you with each fragile step upon cool stone. He’s left you to fend for yourself, likely run off to have his fill of brothel girls and find a new band to strike you and any other pompous noble down. Your castle and your servants would all be ash come the dawn if he so chose… but it isn’t that thought that fills your heart with dread whilst you make your way out of these silent walls.

There’s a clamor coming from the stables when night air brushes over your face, the breeze pushing your hair into your eyes. You’ve heard the sound many a times when one is preparing to ride, the gathering of a saddle whilst the horses press their hooves to earth and watch on in preparation. There are no chores to be done elsewhere, and no servant would be given permission to leave the safety of the walls this late into the night.

König is leaving, abandoning you and his duties.

That’s what bothers you more than the thought of some awful demise.

You can’t place why it even matters. He’s been nothing short of a terror since the day he stepped foot in this place. He doesn’t bring your heart any soothing, only leaves it in wreckage and strikes up a wetness between your thighs. The man is not special, only cruel and ugly, sharp and bloodied like the swords he looks upon with far more passion than he’s ever given to you. Yet, the thought of being without him is haunting.

The walk across the yard feels as though it takes an age. You refuse to cry before him again, have those callused fingers wipe away your tears, but the scowl you force is only as daunting as the look of a forlorn puppy. You can’t find it within you to hate him, even when you try in earnest.

Your hand grasps at the wall of the stable as you peer inside to find the very scene from your imaginings. A horse is readied with as many supplies as it can carry, sacks of what you assume to be stolen food and weaponry hastily fastened to its sides. König is there, of course, shushing the animal with feed as the gate shuts behind him.

He would wait it out here until the night deepens and there would be no chance of anyone coming to stop him, all others preoccupied with their dreaming. As much as you would have preferred to find the sense to return to your own mattress and wait for the sun, your steps lead you inside instead. To him.

“What are you doing?” Your hiss is meek, hushed, and you know you sound more the part of a scorned wife than any authority at all. Your eyes don’t even meet his, cast down to the loose hay at your feet blanketing the dirt floor.

The man only sounds elated at the sight of you, at the idea of being caught amidst his further wicked behavior as he explains to you exactly what you already know. He does not shy away from approaching you, either. You only realize then you’re still dressed for bed without a weapon, just this loose, white gown and a betrayed stare. You’re no threat to someone like this, if anyone at all.

“You want me to stay?,” he hisses right back, taking liberty over your state to draw a hand up to your face, tilt your chin up so your eyes do finally meet his. The sadness remains in his eyes, deeper than you could even fathom, but accompanying it now is a crying madness.

Subjugate, you remind yourself when your lips press to a line. You could play the part of someone braver, bring him to his knees with words and promises up until morning where he would assuredly receive a good lashing.

The hand on your chin crawls down to your neck, thumb petting your pulse with even strokes.

“You can make me,” he continues through your bitter silence. The smirk upon his face is not charming, only cruel again; likely the same look he would give to the void each time he has heard you unravel at the mere thought of him.

You separate yourself from him with a wounded glare, barely keeping yourself together at the thought of finally allowing this brute to unite with your being in such a way. The reasonings as to why you should not are a blur now, reeled back by a more demanding series of thoughts. A secret you could keep, just as long as…

“You really will? If I allow you to…”

“Ja,” König answers simply, gives you a firm nod as to further express his answer. The truth of it was, he finds you dumb. After many months being here, you’ve picked up on a few words of his mother tongue and still he seems to think of you as a simple woman. “Zeig mir deine pflaume.”

You think you may even look the part of some naïve, overly trusting creature when your gown falls to your ankles to rest of the hay covered floor.

The man does not kiss you, only weighs your breasts in his hands, squishes them and paws at their plushness until his breathing grows heavy. He’s grown hard beneath his tunic already, without so much as a moan or a touch from you, but with his eyes locked onto what lies between your trembling legs and the flesh in his hands you almost feel a swell of pride.

His face dips to press into your chest, an eager tongue snaking out to wet you… everywhere. Perhaps he isn’t the most experienced with women, perhaps he’s only sampled what the brothels had to offer.

There’s no care for your pleasure here, only a tentative exchange made clear by the way he gropes at you with such force and tugs your nipple between his teeth as shallow pants and low whimpers leave your parted lips. The bites grow in intensity until you bring your hands to his scarred face to shove him away, only then does he relent back to feverish licks.

A hand trails down to your hip, all too eager in its exploration. There’s no warning when he tests your willingness, pets at your cunt like a well-loved pet. And damn it all — you are wet, as much as you would like to be frigid and resentful here, your body sings for him with soft whines instead of birdsong and dew over the petals of your own flower. He hums appreciatively while suckling at your tit, pushes a finger into your slit so suddenly your body jolts forward to grasp at his shoulders for purchase.

“Not here…” You try to reason with him. There are beds in the castle and walls so thick not a soul would hear. You didn’t need to be fucked in a stable like a breeding mare, it’s unbecoming for both of you.

Not that König even had the sense to listen. You’ve placed a hearty offering at the altar of a starved god, and he would be a fool to allow room to have it snatched away.

The response he gives you is not in words. It’s with a sudden spin that leaves you grasping at the gate of an empty stall, your back to him. You’ve never felt quite so vulnerable, never so horribly heartbroken when this beast chooses to take you from behind instead of nice and slow, in a bed that smells of lavender and incense.

There’s a soft rustling as he pulls his cock free from his garments, his head pressed to where your shoulder and neck join where he whispers what you imagine to be pure filth in his mother tongue, takes in your scent with panting breaths. The fat tip of his cock is diligently rubbed against you in hasty strokes, gathering your wetness until you feel yourself beginning to quiver.

Any chance to turn back is ripped out of your grasp the second he loses patience and begins to feed your drooling cunt each girthy inch. The hands that directed your face with most of your interactions are now cinched firmly against your waist. The sounds that leave him now are unlike any you’ve heard prior; a hand as hard and rough as his could never quite feel the same as what you’ve blessed him with.

“You feel…” He halts momentarily when he’s stuffed himself into you entirely, listening to each soft sound that’s pulled from your lips as you shake around him, for him. He doesn’t need to speak, really… you feel it too, the immediate heat and immaculate bliss of being joined in such a way. You’ve seen that horrid, thick thing countless times but to imagine it would feel so heavenly inside…

“Fick mich… so tight…”

His fucking becomes rampant when you cast him a look over your shoulder, one of utter rapture. Any patience he feigned is lost, because his cock spears you open again and again at a pace that jolts you in place and has your nails splintering the wood in your grasp. The teeth that pulled and bit at your nipples sink into your shoulder to keep those foul words contained, but does little to stifle the desperate groans and keening whines. The sounds of impact join him, filling up the shush of the night air.

Though you try to keep yourself contained, when a hand rises to squeeze at your breast and pinch your nipple between two coarse digits, any hope of biting your tongue is snuffed out. The sounds of your pleasure only add to his derangement; his thrusts become almost unbearable as he fills you with the length of his cock, pulls out to where his tip snags at your entrance only to fully bury himself again in quick repetition.

You don’t even come before he grows sloppy. Each stroke comes less intent, shifting from too fast or far too slow. It’s maddening, the way he sinks in to press his balls to your clit, already drenched in your essence, like a proper lover only to pump you like a common whore following.

He announces his impending orgasm to you in a grunt before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your hand detaches from the gate to slip between your thighs where König immediately grips your wrist as directs each movement as you circle your clit. There’s no tact or beauty here. He forces you to set a rough pace, desperate to feel you squeeze around his cock before he fucks his seed into you; the brute grows impatient and bats your hand away entirely as he pinches and flicks at the nub until you sob, because as torturous as it is, it works.

You’re brought to an abrupt end, eyes squeezed shut and jaw tightening as your hips jolt to meet his palm and your cunt pulls him in to pulse. He laps languidly at your neck while he gives you only a few stilted thrusts before the entire affair comes to an end. König doesn’t have near enough sense to keep himself contained, how no curious servant was pried from their bed by the pleasured bellow he lets out then is remarkable.

The man who fucks his palm near thrice a day still manages to fill your cunt to bursting with his seed. It slips down your thigh when he pulls away from you, tugs at your cheek to take in the view with a satisfied grunt that makes you want to recoil from him in a fit of misery. Maybe even love, because you find yourself so regrettably content now that you wouldn’t even mind sleeping in this sour smelling stable if only he would keep an arm around you…

König’s thoughts are elsewhere. He adjusts himself back into his clothes and pulls your gown from the floor to present it back to you. There’s no romance, only a subtle hint of something more than disinterest when he flashes you an almost boyish grin while you straighten yourself out as best you can.

A warm bath followed by a pillow beneath your head would be nice, but instead this romp blesses you with more dread.

The horse König had so diligently prepared is led out of its stall, and you… You’re hardly given a moment to react before you’re seated on the saddle by a pair of thick arms, the owner of which follows suit while you shoot him an uneasy glance. The question of where he’s taking you is only met with a palm curled over your mouth and an affectionate peck to your temple. You’ve no intention of being thrown off a horse or further tempting fate, even if it seems the easier route than whatever this proves to be.

“My lady wants to stay with me..,” he purrs as the reins are forced into your hands. That same hand slips down to push up your gown again and pivot your ass to rest over his crotch. “So she will come with me, hm?”

The cock finds its way inside of you again as the horse takes quiet, metered steps. Your eyes grow wet with tears unshed, and your protestations are muffled by that grip over the lower half of your face. König seems almost sympathetic even with the transparency of his renewed arousal throbbing inside of you; his hand falls free from your mouth as the horse carries you both past the threshold of the gate, replaced instead by a kiss both fiery and soothing.

You sulk and demand he return you home, to the safety of that stone nest, only to be shushed each time by a sweet press of his mouth to yours, your cheek when you will yourself to turn away. His free hand pets at your side, your breast, any where he can touch to calm your trembling. It doesn’t help… much, but your heart does seem to soften amidst the confusion and bereavement.

“I will take you home,” he mutters as he toys with your clit again, beckoning you to grind back against him. Your head lolls back again his shoulder, dazed and shaky from both his touch and his horrible deceit.

Home. Back to whatever pit of sulfur and grime he came from to drag you back down into it with him.

“… I’ll take care of you, little dove.”

It’s a shame this gentle side of him only decided upon showing its face when the roles reversed in his favor. Prisoner or wife, you meld against him wholly, sigh your pleasure as he whisks you away.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #tw: dubcon

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worukin · 2 years

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╭୨୧︰ prince yandere x servant reader

・✦⇢ working as a butler was something you did willingly. after all, serving the royal family earned you lots of coin. and you were such a loyal servant that the prince couldn't help but want to snatch you up for himself.

︰꒰1・ ( warnings ) — slight possessive behaviour, yandere themes, clinginess, pet names, lots of affection, showing y/n off like a trophy.

︰꒰2・ ( notes ) — originally intended to make the yandere a vampire but i wasn't too sure. maybe in the near future? ahh idk. but i do have things planned. anyway, a little something for being absent as i work on bigger drafts! ( word count: insert wc )

( if you are uncomfy with this type of content, kindly block me instead. this was very fun to write hope you enjoy <3 )

After a long time of working in such a place, you found your way through the maze of hallways covered with odd decor.

Sometimes there would be paintings of people who were nude and it did fluster you quite a bit. Or a statue of an unknown person, maybe even some vases filled with flowers. All to tend to the taste of the Royal family.

Now, you've been here for such a long time now and grown used to The Prince's silly antics. Always asking you to do your chores around his wing. Not that you minded.

"Oh come on Y/n~ Don't you want to rest a bit?" He cooed, laying on his stomach as he watched you with glee. "I apologize your Highness, but doing so would be overstepping boundaries."

He huffed as you continued to dust his room. Wiping the windows, adjusting the curtains, moving the carpet. Oh how cute you were in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind, you are my favourite little servant after all "

Eyes shined with glee when you turned away to hide the fact you were flustered. Such high praise coming from the prince made you giddy. "Please your Highness, picking favourites isn't fair." You sighed.

"Oh darling but you love it!" He exclaimed, a pout forming on his lips. The prince always did enjoy spoiling you with his riches. You hummed— though it was true you reveled at the fact you were his favourite, you weren't happy with it giving you a bigger advantage than the others.

You stepped back from the vase of flowers, cleaning up the roots you cut off. "I'm glad you think highly of me, but this is quite unprofessional." The last thing you would want is being banished by Her Majesty for being with the Prince as a servant and not a noble.

"Is my affections for you not enough? Perhaps I need to be more open." The prince gave a close-eyed smile at the thought of bragging how he had such a catch, a loyal passionate servant like you doesn't come around often.

Your brow lifted. "Open? More open how?" A confused expression formed when all you got in response was a giggle. "My apologies your Highness, I didn't mean to speak so informally."

The prince scoffed. "Oh please, you are my favourite. If anything I'm glad you're relaxed around me to speak like that." Heart swelling just thinking about being informal with you— maybe he could just take you away for himself.

"Awe, wouldn't you enjoy being alone? Just the two of us and away from such a stuffy manor?" He dreamed of waking everyday beside you, instead of waking to the sound of another servant's knocking. You didn't answer.

The loud ring of a bell startled you, reminding you of your duties. "Oh! My apologies your Highness, but I must go now." Hurrying out of his room you uttered another sentence. "Thank you for having such fondness towards me."

He giggled, waving a hand around. "No worries my dear, see you at dinner~" the prince sighed as you left, hearts in the air and in his eyes. "Oh my love, you don't understand at all do you? No matter, I'll lay it to you soon enough."

Various thoughts of hooking his arm around your waist as you attended a ball— everyone in awe at such a pair. Untouchable you both would be, a barrier between you two and everyone else.

He'd leave feverish kisses on your skin to tease and to relish in such jealous stares. That's right, you're his.

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 all works belong to @worukin, do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. ty!

#male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #gn reader #male yandere #male yandere oc #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x male reader #x gn! reader #x gn!reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #x gn reader

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sallowsarchives · 1 month

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Beneath the Battles (Final)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Arthur finally face your true feelings and past grievances, breaking down the barriers that have kept you apart. Word Count: 8.8k Warnings/Tags: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MINORS DNI. No use of y/n, explicit language, angst with fluff, size difference (Arthur is a big guy), oral (female receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, Arthur pulls out, a little roughness, aftercare, SMUT with plot A/N: AHHH, here’s the final part!! I’d like to formally apologize for taking so long to update, I actually ended up scrapping and rewriting it, which took longer than expected. I hope this makes up for it. Once again, thank you to those who read this story and for all your lovely comments!

Read on AO3

The mansion loomed in the distance, its imposing structure partially obscured by the dense trees and underbrush that surrounded it, its windows glimmering faintly under the moonlight, casting a soft glow on the well-kept grounds.

The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of stillness that breeds caution. After days of scouting, the mansion was finally dark and silent, just as expected. Its owners were away traveling, leaving only a few guards to patrol the surrounding grounds.

The plan was straightforward: sneak into the mansion, locate the concealed safe, and disappear with the loot before anyone was the wiser. It seemed like a simple enough task—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You’re crouched behind the mansion's back door, fingers deftly working through the lock. With a final click, the lock gave way, and you quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind you with practiced ease.

The air inside the mansion was heavy, filled with the scent of polished wood and aged stone. Once your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtained windows, you moved swiftly through the shadowed corridors, your footsteps barely making a sound on the ornate rugs that lined the floors.

Just as you rounded the corner, you find yourself coming to a sudden halt.

A man stood before the very door leading to your prize. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had an air of confidence that immediately put you on edge. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy trying to jimmy open the lock.

You cursed under your breath. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he here?

This man was no bumbling thief; his movements were too precise, too deliberate. Whoever he was, he knew what he was doing, and that realization sent a wave of frustration through you. If he got to the safe first, all your planning, all your risk, would be for nothing.

You stayed hidden behind a wall as you considered your options. Confronting him could blow your cover, but waiting too long could mean losing the item.

Deciding to take the upper hand, you crept closer, making sure to keep to the shadows with calculated movements to avoid detection.

Once you were close enough, you cleared your throat, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife just as he managed to break the lock.

The sudden noise startled him, and he froze, his head snapping toward the source of the disturbance. The look of surprise and irritation on his face was fleeting, quickly replaced by a calculating stare as he took in your presence.

You took a moment to assess him. A rugged, handsome face with piercing blue-green eyes that locked onto yours, their intensity making it clear that he was not easily intimidated.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Looks like we both had the same idea. Didn’t think I'd run into competition tonight. What’s your game, stranger?”

You kept your voice light but there was an edge to it. You had scouted this place for weeks, and you weren’t about to let some stranger steal it out from under you.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm before replying with a low Southern drawl that sent a chill down your spine.

"I reckon I oughta be askin' you that too, miss. Ain't seen you around here when I was scoutin' the place, so I guess you're after the same prize."

“Perhaps. Too bad there’s only one prize in that safe,” you said, eyeing the opened safe behind him.

He raised an eyebrow, a small, cocky smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’ll see who gets it first.”

You didn’t wait for him to make the first move.

In a flash, you darted forward, aiming to dodge him and get to the safe. But he was quick—quicker than you expected. He sidestepped your advance, grabbing your arm as you tried to slip past him.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he said, his grip firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a breathless laugh escaping you as you spun around to face him again, eyes flashing with determination. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Without warning, both of you drew your weapons in a swift motion, yours a knife and his a pistol. You knew you were at a disadvantage, the cold steel of his gun giving him the upper hand. But you weren’t about to back down.

A game of cat and mouse ensued, each of you circling the other, quips exchanged with a tension neither acknowledged.

You racked your thoughts for every trick you knew to try and outsmart him but in a moment of distraction, you seized your opportunity as a noise from outside drew both your attention.

He briefly looked away and you grabbed the nearest object—a heavy, decorative vase—and hurled it in his direction, your sudden movement catching his attention once more.

“Goddammit!” he swore as the vase sailed through the air.

The unexpected move caught him off guard, and he instinctively raised his arm to shield himself as the vase struck his arm, causing his pistol to slip from his grip and clatter onto the floor. The shattering noise echoed, no doubt alerting the guards outside.

You wasted no time and sprinted towards him, kicking the gun to the other side of the room. Ducking under his arm with practiced agility, you bolted toward the safe, your nimble fingers swiftly retrieving the necklace inside—a beautiful, intricate piece that promised a hefty pay.

The gleaming jewelry caught your eye, but you didn’t let your guard down. You knew he was still behind you, and the potential for danger was ever-present.

Turning around, you found him standing in place, watching you with an unreadable expression. You eyed him warily, adjusting your stance in case he made any sudden moves.

To your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in a gesture that seemed almost admiring.

"I'll give you that one," he said with a chuckle. "But don’t go thinkin' I’ll let ya off that easy next time."

You met his gaze steadily, with the tone in his voice, you couldn't help a smirk of your own.

“Next time?” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “You might want to reconsider how you pick your battles.”

He tilted his head slightly, raising a brow. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirk before taking a step back, keeping your eyes on him as you begin to make your exit.

“Until we meet again, stranger,” you said, voice cool and confident.

His smirk remained, making no move to stop you or follow as you slipped toward the shadows. Once you were sure he wasn’t making any sudden moves, you turned and made your way out.

The cool night air hits your face as you slip away into the darkness, the necklace secure in your pocket.

Weeks later, you stand before the Van Der Linde gang, newly recruited and eager to prove your worth. As Dutch wraps up your introduction with the gang members, a familiar face catches your eye amidst the crowd—leaning on a wagon, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression from the night at the mansion.

Arthur Morgan, you’ve come to know from Dutch as he introduced him as one of his most trusted men. You could see the recognition in Arthur’s eyes, and you couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto your face.

“We’ve met,” you said casually, holding his gaze, making his lips twitch, but he remains silent.

And so it was, a few months into your time with the gang, Dutch pairs the two of you together for a job. From the start, things don’t go smoothly. Arthur’s stubbornness clashes with your determination, turning every decision into a heated argument.

"You're too damn cautious," you snap as you crouch behind a rock, waiting to ambush a carriage.

"And you're too damn reckless," he retorts, his voice low but heated.

The frustration between you simmering, neither willing to back down.

Though the job was a success, it was clear that your relationship had shifted to something far more complex.

A rivalry that would become full of sharp words, stolen glances, and the kind of tension that made your heart race whenever Arthur Morgan was near.

The burning in your lungs is the first sensation that pierces through the fog.

It feels like your chest is on fire, each breath a painful struggle as your body fights to expel the water that had been forced into your lungs. You cough weakly, the sound raw and strained.

The presence of another person over you is the next thing you sense. Their hand cradling your back as the other presses gently on your cheek, their voice a low, comforting murmur that reaches through the haze of pain.

“C’mon, easy now,” a deep voice rang out, soothing but urgent. “Breathe slow. Just breathe.”

As the pain in your chest begins to ease, you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. The rough ground beneath you feels gritty, the chill in the air seeps through your wet clothes, which cling uncomfortably to your damp skin. A persistent throbbing in your temple adds to the disorienting discomfort.

As your sight finally focuses, you see Arthur standing over you, his rugged features marked by concern and relief. His hair was wet and tousled, with a few strands clinging to his forehead, and his face was streaked with water and mud.

“You alright?” His voice is softer now, though it still carries a note of urgency.

You try to speak, but your voice comes out as a faint, hoarse whisper. Attempting to sit up, you slump back into his arms, completely drained.

Arthur’s hand remains steady, his hand continuing to support you from your back.“Just take it easy, darlin’,” he insists. “We gotta get that nasty cut of yours fixed up.”

After a moment, he speaks up again. "You scared the hell outta me, you know that?" he says, his tone softer than you expected. Confusion flickers in your eyes as you try to make sense of his reaction.

Arthur quickly brushes it off with a shrug and a quick, dismissive smile. "You good to stand? We need to find a place to camp."

Though slightly dazed, you nod and he begins helping you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle and begins to lead the way.

You take a chance to glance over at the river, your heart sinking. "There goes everything," you mutter, as you thought of all the loot from the stagecoach robbery now lost in those dark waters, swept away without a trace.

Arthur’s eyes follow your gaze. “Yeah, things went south real quick. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. Ain’t never gone smooth with us.”

A weary sigh escapes you. Arthur gives your shoulder a small squeeze, his voice softening.

“We’ll figure out another way to make it up so we don’t come back empty-handed.”

As you and Arthur push through the thick underbrush, the sun has long set, leaving the sky almost entirely dark and providing scant light. The air is growing colder, and the fatigue from the ordeal is beginning to weigh heavily.

After a while, Arthur spots a faint outline against the darkening sky. "There," he says, pointing toward the silhouette of a structure hidden among the trees.

You squint and make out the shape of an old, dilapidated cabin. Its roof is partially caved in, and the wooden walls weathered. Still, it seems like a decent refuge for the night.

Arthur leads the both of you towards it, his steps careful as he surveys the area for any signs of danger. He pushes open the creaky door with a grunt, revealing a dusty, cobweb-covered interior. The air inside is stale, but it’s dry and shielded from the elements.

"Looks like this’ll do for tonight," Arthur says, stepping inside and looking around.

The main room contains a few pieces of furniture: a worn-out sofa, a small wooden table, and a couple of chairs. There’s a door on the left, which you assume leads to a bedroom.

A stone fireplace stands against one wall, its hearth empty but still looking functional. To the right, you notice a small kitchen area with cabinets lining the wall, hinting at a space used for simple meals.

Arthur moves with practiced caution, his eyes scanning the room as he checks for any signs of danger. He pauses, pulling his pistol from its holster. It seems he managed to keep hold of his weapon and satchel during your fall into the water—an unexpected stroke of luck.

Once he’s satisfied that the area is clear and no immediate threat is apparent, he nods and holsters the gun.

“Alright, let’s settle in,” he says, guiding you to a nearby chair. “I’ll get a fire going and check for any supplies. You just sit tight and rest.”

You nod, gratefully sinking into the chair. As Arthur moves around the house, you take a moment to let the exhaustion wash over you.

You hadn’t noticed the several minutes that had passed by where Arthur managed to set up a fire with the dried wood he had found stacked by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over the room.

He turns his attention back to you, a determined look on his face and retrieves a cloth from his satchel, pouring a generous amount of whiskey over it that he must have found when rummaging through the cabinets.

He takes a seat across from you, gaze steady and focused as he carefully examines the gash near your temple.

“This might sting a bit,” he says softly, his voice carrying a reassuring calm. Gently, he dabs the cloth against the cut, the wound stinging from the contact.

Arthur’s movements are careful and deliberate, his brow furrowed in concentration. As he works, his eyes occasionally meet yours, a mix of concern and resolve evident in his expression.

You watch him closely, the intensity in his expression a stark contrast to the usual deflective bravado he shows, a rare glimpse of the softer side of him that you don’t often see.

After finishing with your wound, Arthur sets the cloth aside and glances at the both of you, noting the dampness of your clothes.

“We’d best find us some dry clothes; ain't no good in keepin' us warm when we're soaked to the bone.”

You respond with a nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the wet garments clinging tightly to your skin.

He stands up and motions you to follow, moving towards the door on the left you saw earlier. Inside, the room is dimly lit by the fading light seeping through the grime-streaked windows. Old, moth-eaten drapes hang limply from their rods, and the floorboards creak with each step.

There was a rickety, sagging bed with a threadbare quilt, and a lone wooden chest pushed against the wall. You follow behind him, noticing the layer of dust that covers everything, marking the years of abandonment.

He heads to a chest, prying it open with a groan as the hinges protest, and begins rummaging through the contents.

As he searches for dry clothes, you start to remove some of your damp garments feeling the need to get more comfortable and ease the weight.

You’re in the process of slipping off your soaked shirt when Arthur turns around, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you in your soaked white chemise, and he quickly averts his gaze, his face flushing a deep red.

“Uh—here,” he stammers, his voice suddenly unsteady as he holds out a faded long brown skirt and a low-necked cotton blouse. “Found these. They should fit.” He glances away, clearly flustered.

Seizing the opportunity, you smirk and tease. “What’s the matter, Arthur? Never seen a woman in her underclothes before? I thought you were used to all sorts of rough and tumble.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, his face turning redder, and he clears his throat, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “Even after gettin' yourself all banged up, you still can’t help but run that smart mouth of yours,” he retorts, trying to mask his embarrassment with a touch of irritation.

You chuckle at his flustered response, enjoying the rare sight of him so off-balance before taking the clothes from him.

Arthur shifts uncomfortably, casting furtive glances as he takes a change of clothes for himself. He clears his throat again, his usual confidence momentarily eclipsed by awkwardness.

“I’ll, uh, just be outside if you need anything,” he mutters, leaving the room with a hasty step to give you your privacy.

The door creaks as he pulls it shut, and you can hear him mumbling to himself as he closes it behind him. His grumbling is low and unintelligible, but it brings a faint, amused smile to your lips. You chuckle silently before turning your attention to the garments.

Moments later, you find Arthur standing by the window, now dressed in a fresh set of clothes—worn jeans and a plain gray button up. His silhouette is outlined against the darkness outside. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its warmth beginning to chase away the chill.

Arthur turns to you, his expression more relaxed now that he's shed his previous discomfort. “Feeling a bit better?”

You nod. “Yeah, much better. You?”

Arthur gives a small, awkward smile. “I’ll be just fine. Just need to take it easy and let the warmth do its work.” He gestures toward the fire. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable while we can.”

You nod and make your way to sit at the worn out sofa to warm up by the fireplace. After a comfortable silence you finally speak up, your voice soft with gratitude.

“Thanks for everything, Arthur. I know it’s been a rough day, but I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

Arthur turns to you and nods, his usual gruffness softened by the warmth of the fire and the genuine moment between you. “Don’t mention it. Just doing what needs to be done.”

As the silence settles again, Arthur clears his throat and shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of rough days… reckon I oughta say somethin’ about that night at the, uh, well, what happened at the Mayor’s party,” he begins, his tone a bit hesitant.

You fold your arms, feeling uncomfortable about bringing it up again, but you know you’ve both put off addressing the issue long enough. You nod, signaling for him to continue.

Arthur looks away for a moment, clearly struggling with how to frame his words.

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like what happened between us didn’t matter. I guess I thought it’d be better to just… keep things simple and avoid complicatin’ things.”

Your eyes narrow and you let out a sigh. “You already said that but I still don’t know what you mean. If you don’t have anything new to add, then yes, I guess that’s all it was—just a fleeting moment to pass the time while we were stuck in that situation.”

“Godammit, it ain’t like that,” he says, his voice firm but tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You glare at him, standing up as your anger and frustration begin to boil over. “Then what, Arthur? I’m done with the guessing games. If you can’t be honest with me, then at least stop pretending you care.”

“Oh, is that so? What do you want me to say, huh? That I’ve been usin’ you? That I don’t give a damn? You think that’s gonna make things better?”

“I’m not askin’ you to lay it all out. I’m askin’ you to quit actin’ like none of this means a damn thing. You’re scared to face the truth, and it’s obvious. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

Arthur steps closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You don’t know a damn thing about what’s goin’ on with me.”

You meet his gaze, your anger unwavering despite the intensity of his look. “Then why don’t you stop hiding behind your excuses and show me what’s real for once? Or are you too scared to face it yourself?”

His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as the silence grows heavy between the two of you. You take a deep breath before continuing, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Everything that happened at that party… it wasn’t just part of the act, was it?”

He looks away, eyes fixed on the ground as his expression hardens. “I was doin’ what we had to,” he says, his voice gruff. “We were pretendin’—had to make it look real.”

“That’s a goddamn lie and you know it,” you retorted. “Everything you did that night, kissing me like it meant something just to suddenly pull away and act like I was something you regretted. Do you have any idea how that felt, Arthur? How it made me feel?”

He flinched at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand—”

“Then help me understand! You shut me out, you push me away, and I’m done pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Arthur looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw the pain in his eyes, the conflict warring within him.

Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you thought he might continue ignoring you, that he’d keep his distance just as he always did. But when his eyes met yours again, there was something raw and unguarded in them that made your heart twist before he spoke, voice filled with a vulnerability you had never seen in him before.

“That night at the party, when I told you it meant nothing and pushed you away—it wasn’t because I didn’t care, but because I did. I didn’t want you seein’ me as more than just part of this damned life I’ve led.”

“Have you not thought that I’m already a part of this life too? I’m not some innocent bystander in this, Arthur. I’m in it just as much as you are, fighting beside you, continuing to risk everything for the gang. Every time you push me away, it feels like you’re saying I don’t belong, that I’m not worthy of being part of this.”

Arthur’s face softened with regret. “I’m sorry if it came across that way. I’ve just been tryin’ to protect you in my own messed-up way. I don’t want you feelin’ like you’re not part of this, ‘cause you are. More than you know.”

You looked at him, searching for honesty in his eyes. “Then be honest with me, Arthur. Don’t shut me out. I need to know where we stand.”

“I ain’t good enough for you,” he confessed, the words coming out like a reluctant admission. “I’ve done things—bad things. And I know you’ve seen some of it, but you don’t know the half of it. You deserve better than some outlaw who’s spent his life takin’ more than he’s given.”

The silence that followed was thick with emotion, as you both tried to come to terms with the weight of his confession. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the truth of your feelings and the painful realities of the life you both led.

You stared at him, the anger long dissipated from you as his words sank in. This was it—this was what had been driving him to keep you at arm’s length, to push you away whenever you got too close. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way you did; it was that he didn’t think he was worthy of it.

“Arthur,” you said quietly, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, “I don’t care about what you’ve done, or who you think you are. I care about you. The man who saved me today, who risked everything to make sure I was safe. The man who gives more to the gang than he ever takes for himself—that’s the man I see.”

He shook his head, his expression tortured. “You ain’t seen the worst of me yet.”

“And I don’t care if I do,” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you, or what I’m willing to accept. I’ve made my choice, Arthur. I’m not turning back.”

He stared at you, his defenses crumbling as the truth of your words hit him. He’d spent so long believing he didn’t deserve anything good, that any softness or kindness was something he had to push away before it could be taken from him. Hell, that’s why it never worked out with Mary, too.

But here you were, standing in front of him, refusing to let him go, even after everything he’d done to keep you at a distance.

He leaned in closer, his free hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You crack a small smile, your voice laced with a sarcastic edge but softened by the warmth in your eyes.

“Come on, Arthur. Since when did you become an expert in what I deserve? I’ve been putting up with your brooding for far too long to be picky about the details.”

Arthur’s lips curled into a wry smile as he listened to your response. Despite the gravity of the moment, there was a glimmer of amusement and admiration in his eyes.

“You know,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of his old charm, “you’ve been a right pain in my ass since day one. Guess that’s why it’s so damn complicated with us. But, damn it, you’re still the only one who can make me see the bright side of this mess.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look.

“Oh, is that your way of saying I’m the best you’ve got? How flattering.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe more than you know. You’ve got a knack for makin’ everything seem less bleak, even when you’re makin’ my life hell.”

After a silent moment, Arthur reaches out, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw which sends shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been a damn fool,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “for fightin’ this… for fightin’ you.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the honesty you had never expected from him.

You had always seen him as a man of few words, someone who hid his true self behind a wall of sarcasm and indifference. But now, as he stood in front of you, you saw the truth in his eyes—the feelings he had tried so hard to deny.

Before you could respond, Arthur closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

The kiss was a heady mix of passion and urgency, a kiss full of the unresolved tension and undeniable attraction that had been building between you.

As the kiss deepens, you feel Arthur’s hand move to tangle in your hair, his fingers gently gripping the strands as he kisses you harder, his body pressing hard against yours.

You respond with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer before you both pull away for air, breaths labored with his chest rising and falling against yours.

Arthur nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He begins to trail soft kisses along your neck, his lips barely grazing your skin as his voice drops to a whisper, full of longing and relief.

“Been powerless against you since the moment you joined the gang. Reckon it all started that night at the mansion when we were both after the same prize.”

A low hum escapes him as your fingers thread through his hair, your touch sending shivers down his spine. He nuzzles further into your neck as he continues to mumble against your skin.

“Wanted you so bad, and damn if that don’t scare the absolute life out of me.”

Arthur continues to kiss your neck, his lips moving down to your shoulder as his hands tighten their grip on your hips. The intensity of his touch grows as he pulls you even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours, enveloping you in a wave of warmth and desire.

You lean in closer, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, your voice trembling with the same urgency that you hear in his. “Then stop holding back, Arthur. I want you.”

Your words seem to break whatever last bit of restraint he was clinging to. He lets out a low growl, and before you can even take another breath, his lips crash against yours once more, all fire and desperation. It’s a kiss that sears through you leaving no room for doubt.

Without breaking the kiss, he nudges you back until you feel the edge of the table pressing against the backs of your thighs. In one fluid motion, Arthur’s hands slip from your hips to your waist, lifting you just enough to set you down on the table's surface.

He steps closer, sliding between your legs as his hands grip your hips possessively. You felt his hips pressing insistently against your core, the contact electrifying and intense.

He was achingly hard, a burning pressure that felt almost unbearable through the fabric of your clothes. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, every shift of his body against yours sending waves of sensation coursing through you.

His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard living, left your waist and slipped under your shirt to savor the softness of your skin. His skilled fingers traced over your ribs before reaching your breasts.

You've never been so glad to not be wearing your chemise underneath your clothes.

You inhaled sharply as he took one of your nipples between his fingers and pinched. "So responsive." Arthur murmurs against your mouth before pulling away and breaking the kiss. You chance a glance at his face, his eyes dark with hunger.

With deliberate slowness, his hands begin their descent, gliding down to your calves, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs.

He caresses your skin, almost reverently, before sliding up to the hem of your skirt. You shiver at the sensation as he pushes the fabric higher, gathering it around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Arthur’s eyes drink in the sight of you, his gaze heavy with desire. His hands, still lingering on the edge of your skirt, begin to trail slowly up your thighs, his touch careful and teasing.

He pauses just as his fingers brush against the most sensitive part of your skin, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and questioning.

He’s waiting, holding back, as if needing your permission to go further. He doesn't move, his touch achingly close yet frustratingly distant.

"Arthur…" you plead, your voice edged with frustration.

He meets your gaze, lips twitch up in a slight smirk as his eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You can do better than that, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You scowl, making him smirk wider, the pressure making your frustration boil over. "Arthur, just—"

His fingers remain tantalizingly still, his eyes locked onto yours with a challenging gleam. The irritation fuels your desperation, and you let out a shaky breath, finally conceding.

"Arthur... please, I need you. I can’t stand it anymore," you say, your voice softened by surrender, the depth of your need evident.

Arthur’s lips curl into a satisfied grin as he hears your plea. He hums with approval and without another word, you watch as he leans down, his mouth finding your core with a fervent intensity, enveloping you in a warm, consuming embrace.

You gasped out as pleasure rippled through you, his name tumbling from your lips. Your fingers fly down to his hair, clenching at the strands and pull him closer as you surrender to the waves of sensation that crash over you.

He groans against you, his lips teasing the sensitive bud before his tongue moves with deliberate, savoring strokes, licking up your wetness. The taste of you lingers, smearing over his lips and dripping down his chin.

You feel his hand move between your thighs, his touch igniting another wave of pleasure as his thumb gently grazes your clit. The added sensation heightens your arousal, making your breath come in short, gasping bursts.

Without warning, he slips one of his fingers inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of intense pleasure through you.

He moves with practiced ease, curling and thrusting as he builds a rhythm that makes you gasp and moan. Each movement is designed to amplify the pleasure he's already delivering, his touch skillfully coaxing you closer to the edge.

“Oh God—Arthur!”

His hands pick up the pace, moving faster and with more pressure, targeting that one sensitive spot inside you while his mouth continues to work on your delicate bud. You tighten around his fingers, feeling your legs start to tremble.

You were at the height of your pleasure, your climax so near it felt like you might explode at any moment. Arthur seems to sense it too, his movements expertly bringing you to the brink.

But just as you're about to come, he abruptly pulls away, smirking down at you. You let out a frustrated whine, your body still trembling from the near climax.

"Why—" you gasp, eyes pleading as you look up at him, your voice a mix of annoyance and need. The sudden halt only intensifies your frustration, making your desire for release even more unbearable.

Arthur leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t worry, darlin’, I ain’t finished yet," he murmurs, his voice a low, gritty whisper. "Wanna feel you wrapped around me when you come."

With a firm, decisive moment, his hands wrap beneath your bum, lifting you effortlessly. He carries you toward the worn couch, his strength palpable as he places you gently but firmly onto the cushions before positioning himself above you, his gaze never leaving yours.

Arthur’s hands move to unbutton his jeans with a practiced ease before shedding them, revealing his lengthy member, its impressive size immediately drawing your wide-eyed attention.

You can’t help but stare, your eyes widening with a mix of awe and anticipation as you take in the full extent of his arousal. The sight of him, so well-endowed and commanding, sends a thrill of excitement through you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Arthur notices your reaction, a grin curling on his lips. He moves closer, his hands firmly cupping your face as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, capturing your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

While his mouth claims yours, his hands move with purpose, deftly working to remove your blouse. You respond eagerly, your hands sliding over his chest and working at the buttons of his shirt until it falls away.

The two of you move with a synchrony of urgency and passion, shedding the rest of your clothes with a desperate need. Each article of clothing is discarded in a flurry of movement, leaving you both bare.

Arthur pauses, his eyes dark and intense as they roam over your bare form with a feral hunger. A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes gleaming with a primal desire.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice rough and throaty. “Can’t believe I held myself back for so long.” His gaze lingers on you, filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger, as he savors the sight of you completely bare before him.

He wraps your legs around his hips, drawing you closer as he positions himself between you. With one hand gripping himself and the other steadying your leg, he lines himself up, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he looks down at you.

“You ready for this?”

You nod, your eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Please, Arthur,” you reply, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Arthur’s lips curl into a fierce, satisfied smile before pressing himself against you and slowly begins to enter you, his gaze never leaving your face as a gasp escapes your lips, your body tensing with the intense sensation.

You arch against him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjust to his size. The stretch and pressure of him inside you sends a wave of pleasure through you, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily as you moan out his name.

He growls in response, his face contorted with both pleasure and concentration. “Goddamn you’re so tight.”

His hands tighten on your hips, grip firm and possessive as waits for you to adjust around him. After a moment, you grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging in as you try to steady yourself.

“Arthur,” you murmur, struggling to control your breath. “I need you to move.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dripping with raw desire. His eyes search yours for a sign of hesitation but find only eager need.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “Please.”

With a satisfied nod, Arthur begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one bringing a wave of pleasure that makes your body tremble.

As he finds a rhythm, his movements become more intense and fervent, his eyes never leaving your face. His breathing grows heavier, matching the pace of his thrusts as he drives deeper into you.

“Arthur, please…faster.”

He meets your gaze and with a firm grip, he pushes your leg further back against you, angling himself deeper.

You gasp at the shift, your body arching and gripping him tighter as waves of pleasure crash over you. Each thrust sends a jolt of ecstasy through you, your breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts as you lose yourself in the mounting sensation.

His thrusts become more urgent, each movement sending a jolt of ecstasy through you. “That’s it,” he murmurs between breaths, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, the sound escaping in a breathless gasp as his relentless pace overwhelms you, crying out his name as your voice trembles with pleasure.

Arthur’s eyes darken with desire, and he groans deeply. He takes your face in his hand, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. his gaze intently fixed on you, taking in every reaction, every flush of pleasure, driving him wild.

He can’t help but be captivated by the way you look at him, your gaze locking onto his with a mix of urgency and raw longing.

He’s not going to last long. Not when you look at him like that.

Arthur pushes your leg further back, nearly folding you in half as his thrusts become rougher and more intense, driving into you with a forceful rhythm. Each thrust relentlessly hits the spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You feel yourself tighten around him, eliciting a deep groan from him.

His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core and begins to apply a firm, rhythmic pressure, his touch syncing with the hard, relentless pace of his thrusts.

“Arthur,” you moan, your voice a mixture of desperation and bliss.

Arthur grits his teeth, the effort to maintain control clear on his face. “Come on, sweetheart, let go for me… Wanna feel ya,” he growls, his voice thick with desire and urgency.

The combined stimulation of his touch and his relentless thrusting pushes you toward the edge, your body quaking as the waves of pleasure crest and crash over you. His words, laced with raw need, tip you over that edge, breaking the last of your control.

You let go completely, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure as you tremble and gasp in his grasp, your body responding to his every command.

“That’s it,” Arthur growls, his voice rough with pleasure. “Good girl. Feels so good squeezing around me… there we go.”

He moves his hands to your hips, his own breathing ragged as he feels you tighten and convulse around him. He continues to drive into you through the waves of pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more urgent and relentless. You cry out, the sensation overwhelming.

Finally, with a groan of his own, he thrusts deep one last time before pulling out, taking his length into his hand. His body shudders, breath coming in rough, uneven gasps as he finds his release, spilling onto your stomach as the tension finally breaks.

He collapses onto you, his breath ragged and heavy, both of you trying to catch your breaths. After a while, you gently pat him, feeling the weight of him pressing down on you, and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes half-lidded with contentment.

Arthur stands up and grabs the shirt he was wearing, using it to wipe the evidence of his release from your stomach and his. His touch is tender despite the intensity of the moment.

Once he’s finished, he lays back down beside you, pulling you into his arms. With a gentle but firm motion, he adjusts to create enough room for both of you on the worn couch.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you settle against him, the warmth of his body providing a soothing contrast to the earlier intensity.

“You alright there?” he asks, his voice soft and slightly teasing as he runs a hand soothingly along your arm.

You nod, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, your voice a bit breathless. “Just needed a moment.”

Arthur chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t say I’m sorry we didn’t do this sooner,” he murmurs, his tone filled with genuine warmth.

You smile, your eyes closing as you let yourself relax into his embrace. “Me neither,” you whisper, feeling the comfort of his presence. “Guess it’s a good thing we finally did.”

A comfortable silence envelops you both, the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the background. As you settle into the quiet, the room is filled with a tranquil intimacy.

The gentle heat from the fire and the flickering light cast a soft glow over your resting forms, guiding you both into a peaceful rest.

The next morning, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains gently warms your face, coaxing you awake from your slumber.

You blink, slightly disoriented, and notice a quilt draped over you—a cozy, unexpected comfort that you don’t remember covering yourself with.

You stretch out and sit up, searching for Arthur, but find that he’s no longer beside you. The space next to you is empty, leaving only the lingering warmth of his presence and the faint scent of him in the air.

You wrap the quilt around you before making your way to the bedroom, where you begin to get dressed in your now-dry clothes.

As you finish getting dressed, you head outside, still wondering where Arthur could be. Opening the front door, you’re startled to find him now dressed in his own clothes and standing with both your horses.

He’s feeding his horse calmly, the sight of the horses safe and sound, along with Arthur’s relaxed demeanor, fills you with a mix of relief and surprise.

He looks up, catching your gaze with a casual, knowing smile, clearly at ease despite the unexpected circumstances.

“Mornin’, sorry I didn’t want to wake ya,” he says, his voice warm and relaxed.

You blink, still processing the sight before you. “Wait, how did you find the horses? They ran off during that chase,” you ask, your voice filled with surprise and confusion.

Arthur grins, a touch of pride in his eyes. “Managed to track ’em down this mornin’. They’d wandered off a ways but were easy enough to follow. Took a bit of patience, but I got ’em back here safe and sound.” He pats one of the horses affectionately.

You let out a relieved laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Well, I’m definitely grateful. I wasn’t sure how we’d get them back.

Arthur gives you a casual nod, his eyes still carrying a hint of satisfaction. “We should probably think about getting back to camp soon. Can’t say Dutch’ll be too happy about us comin’ back empty-handed.”

You frown slightly, your mind starting to turn over the implications. “Yeah, he might not be too pleased about that.”

Suddenly, something clicks in your mind, your expression brightening with realization. You make your way to your horse, patting her affectionately as you reach her.

You move to the saddlebag and start fishing around inside before pulling out a small pouch. Arthur watches you with curiosity as you open it, revealing the jewelry you had remembered stuffing inside. With a proud smile, you show it to Arthur, the glint of the gems catching the light.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well… that’s a nice surprise. Turns out we’re not comin’ back empty-handed after all.”

He glances at the jewelry, then back at you. “Good thinking.”

You tuck the pouch back into the saddlebag, feeling a surge of relief. “At least we’ve got something to make up for the trouble.”

Arthur shifts, his expression turning serious. “Listen, uh… everything I said last night—I meant it. I care about you, you know.”

You look at him, a soft smile forming on your lips. “I know.”

He pulls you close, and you share a tender kiss, the warmth and reassurance evident in the moment. When you pull away, you give him a playful nudge. “Now, let’s get back to camp.”

Arthur grins, nodding as he mounts his horse. “Lead the way.”

After a few hours of steady travel, you finally crest through the dense woods and emerge into the open area of Shady Belle.

As you draw closer, you hear John’s voice call out from his post. “Who’s there?”

Arthur raises a hand in greeting, his tone slightly exasperated. “It’s just us two, you idiot.”

John approaches with a grin, clearly relieved to see familiar faces. “Well, well, look who’s back! Didn’t think you’d make it this time.”

His gaze shifts to you, and he notices the cut on your forehead. “What happened there?” he asks, his tone shifting to one of concern.

“It’s nothing, just a little mishap,” you reply with a shrug and a small reassuring smile.

John nods, still eyeing the cut with a concerned look. Before he can respond, the sound of Dutch’s voice cuts through the air.

“There they are!” Dutch strides forward with Hosea, catching the attention of the other gang members. The atmosphere shifts to one of eager anticipation as they approach to welcome you both back.

Arthur and you quickly hitch your horses, and Dutch’s eyes light up with a mix of relief and curiosity.

“You two look like you’ve had quite the adventure,” he says with a grin. “Let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”

You and Arthur follow Dutch and Hosea inside the house, nodding to the other members who offer warm welcomes at your arrival.

Once inside, the four of you make your way outside to the terrace to discuss the details. The afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the camp, and you all settle into a comfortable spot.

Hosea’s eyes shift to the cut on your forehead. “You alright?” he asks, his tone filled with concern.

You give a small nod, trying to brush off the worry. “I’ll be alright. Can’t say about the coach, though.”

Hosea raises an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. “The coach, huh? Did something go wrong?”

“The job went well initially. Arthur and I got what we needed, but then things went sideways on the way back.”

Arthur picks up the story, his voice steady. “We ran into trouble. More guards came in hot on our heels, forcing us into some rough terrain. Lost the coach, and then we ended up falling into a river with it.”

You chime in, “The river swept the coach away, taking all the loot with it. We couldn’t salvage anything.”

Dutch’s expression falls. “So, you lost it all?”

Arthur nods, looking apologetic. “Yeah. We couldn’t recover the goods.”

Dutch’s face reflects a mix of disappointment and frustration. “Well, that’s a shame. We coulda used that haul. Least you two are alright, though.”

Hosea tries to lighten the mood. “We’ll bounce back from this. The important thing is that you made it back safely. We’ll sort out the rest.”

Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out the small pouch of jewelry from you and a few clipped bundles of cash. He holds them up with a faint, reassuring smile.

“Well, we didn’t lose everything. Reckon this might help make up for it.”

Arthur hands Hosea the pouch, and Hosea inspects its contents. “With this and the cash we got, I’d say we’re lookin’ at around 800. That should help us get back on our feet.”

Dutch’s eyes light up with relief as he takes in the sight of the recovered items. “Well, that’s a right bit of luck in the middle of all this mess. Better than nothin’.”

Arthur nods, looking somewhat relieved. “Didn’t want to come back here and leave y’all thinkin’ we came up empty.”

Dutch claps Arthur on the shoulder, his mood lifting a bit. “Appreciate that. Let’s get this sorted and move on. We’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

Hosea looks over at you and Arthur with a nod of approval. “I gotta hand it to you both. Despite the rough patch, you came through. Good work out there.”

With that, Dutch and Hosea start discussing plans to distribute the recovered items and strategize the next steps.

Over the next few days, the gang once again begins to notice something distinctly different about you and Arthur.

It’s not just the absence of shouting and tension, but a new, subtle intimacy that marks a significant shift in how you interact. While the first change was notable, this time it's even more pronounced.

Although you and Arthur have kept your more intimate moments away from the prying eyes of the gang, there’s a palpable difference in the way you connect.

You’re often seen sharing quiet conversations, laughing together, and engaging in playful banter, with soft touches and exchanged smiles now part of your interactions. The closeness between you is evident, and it piques the gang’s curiosity once more.

Speculation runs rife among the camp members about the nature of your evolving relationship. They observe the affectionate gestures and tender glances, each theory more imaginative than the last.

Despite the growing curiosity, you and Arthur continue to maintain your privacy. When questioned or approached, you both respond with a mix of amused indifference and casual deflection.

You shrug off the gossip with lighthearted comments or evasive answers, enjoying the newfound closeness while keeping the details of your relationship to yourselves.

On this particular day, while you were engaged in a chore, you overheard Arthur speaking to Dutch, asking why he kept pairing the two of you together despite your apparent dislike for each other.

You glance over from your place, noting how Dutch seems genuinely puzzled by the question.

“It wasn’t really my call,” Dutch says with a shrug. “That was all Hosea’s idea. I didn’t rightly agree with him and don’t know why the hell he was so insistent or thought it was a good idea, but I just went along with it.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Both your attention shifts to Hosea, who is currently sitting nearby, absorbed in reading a newspaper.

Despite his apparent focus on the paper, you notice a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t look up or acknowledge you both, but his expression clearly suggests he’s pleased with the outcome of his decision.

The revelation leaves you and Arthur with a mix of emotions, but the smirk on Hosea’s face makes it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

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