#the only things left to write are transitions and smut

[distantdarlings]

ELUSION // v. krum

RATING: R / 5.1K WORDS

Viktor Krum x Spanish!American!Fem!Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* You've been forced to move to London in the middle of your senior year at Ilvermorny. While having to transfer all of your credits to Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament is also going on, and you catch one of the competitors' eye.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV (no protection!), coming inside, quickie, (sort of) public sex, riding, foreign language kink? (idk), badly translated Spanish, very brief mention of injuries, very brief mention of blood, kissing, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

greedy - Tate McRae

*If the translation for the Spanish is bad, PLEASE CORRECT ME! Thank you!!!*

**Also, I know that Viktor was technically the second-to-last competitor in the dragon challenge before Harry, but just pretend he went first for the sake of the story.

---

When you moved from America and everything you’d known since you were a child to the busy, dreary streets of London, the last thing you’d expected was to find some infatuation with a wizard from deep within the Scandinavian mountains. 

Your parents had packed you up after dropping the heartbreaking news that you’d be moving halfway across the world less than a week earlier. You’d barely had any time to weep over the friends you’d no longer see and the gorgeous school you’d come to adore. 

Ilvermorny had been your home for the entirety of your Wizarding education career, and now you were expected to drop it halfway through your final year. You were going to have to transfer all of your education credits, get to know all-new students and professors, and somehow manage to keep your head above water with your grades. 

When you first arrived at Hogwarts around the first of October, you remember telling yourself how much of a nightmare this whole transition was going to be. And you hadn’t been wrong. 

The communication between the faculty at Ilvermorny and Hogwarts had been weak at best. The first set of robes that were waiting for you in your dormitory when you got there were about two sizes too small. The food took some major getting used to, which wreaked constant havoc on your stomach. And, worst of all, your grades had hit a bit of a stutter, partially due to all of the stress you were under, and partially due to the insane accents that floated about this castle. More than a few times, you’d found that you’d written an incorrect potion ingredient or the wrong historical fact, and then missed that question on a quiz simply because you’d misheard the professor. It was a complete pain in the ass.

The only bright spot in the whole thing was that you’d actually managed to make a few friends. Due to there only being a few months left in your enrollment at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore and a few of the other faculty members decided it was mostly useless to sort you into a house. So, if being the “new girl” in your senior year wasn’t spotlighting enough, you were now also the standout weirdo who didn’t belong anywhere. 

Gratefully, though, a few of the Gryffindor girls had taken you under their wings. They were a bit younger than you, but were kind enough. 

You’d struck up a conversation with them during the first strange event in the school year. Amongst the hustle and bustle of packing up your entire life, you’d forgotten that Hogwarts was the talk of campus back at Ilvermorny this year. Everyone had been jealous because that stupid school was hosting the Triwizard Tournament, and Ilvermorny was never allowed to participate. Granted, the contest hadn’t taken place in a long time, but as soon as talk of it sprang up around town, everyone was jealous. You’d never not know your American peers to be competitive as hell, and they showed that ten times over amidst all of the Triwizard Tournament discussion. 

Before your last day at Ilvermorny, you remembered one of your friends mentioning how jealous they were that you were going to be able to view most of the contest. At the time, however, that was the least of your concerns. 

Now, after having settled in for the most part and discussing the champions that were selected with the Gryffindor girls, you were pretty invested. Firstly, because one of the champions was a friend of the Gryffindor girls, and, secondly, because one of the others had caught your eye pretty quickly.

Headmaster Dumbledore had announced the names of the contenders one at a time with his booming, powerful voice, waiting patiently as they walked proudly up to the front of the Great Hall. You had watched silently, only partially paying attention due to the shitty grade you’d just received on a paper you’d turned in yesterday. In fact, you were so distraught over that assignment, you likely wouldn’t have even looked up if the Gryffindor girls hadn’t started giggling and playfully elbowing each other when one of the champions was called. 

Their silly antics had pulled your attention away from where your fingers were anxiously shredding the loose skin beside your nails, and you had caught sight of the one aspect of this entire stressful journey you hadn’t been expecting. 

You’d expected the plummet in your grades, the anxiety, the isolation. But you hadn’t seen this heated, rapidly formed relationship between Viktor and you coming, not from miles away. 

It had started slowly. After the lingering eye contact he’d laid on you as your focus had followed him all the way up the steps on the night of the Halloween feast, came the sneaking glances between classes. 

They were innocuous at first—just brief, passing looks from across the room, where your eyes would slide over each other a little slower than they would others. Slowly, though, the glances turned into staring, then into open challenges, until one evening Viktor approached you. 

You’d been sitting outside in one of the courtyards, scanning through a reading assignment McGonagall had assigned, trying to force yourself to concentrate on the tedious material. Whether it was from the hunting skills Durmstrang pushed or his natural silence, you hadn’t heard the dark man stroll up behind you. 

You weren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, feeling the same breeze that you were coasting over his face, when he finally spoke. 

“What are you reading?” he’d asked, and you’d nearly jumped out of your skin. 

You hadn’t heard him speak up close yet, so you were almost shocked at how strong his accent was. He obviously came from a foreign school, way up North in the far mountains, but you hadn’t realized just how heavy it sat. His mouth formed awkwardly around the unfamiliar English letters, and all of his ‘w’s came out more like ‘v’s. It was cute. 

“Oh, er,” you chuckled nervously, gently pushing the book closed around your finger to save your spot. He was even more handsome up close, and you had to force yourself to swallow that thought down as he spoke with you.

A gentle smile spread across his lips. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

“Uh, just a little bit,” you laughed. “But that’s okay. You’re…Krum, right? Viktor?” 

He nodded in response. His hands were tucked within his trouser pockets, his arms slipping beneath a heavy fur coat that kept all of his towering warmth close to his body. You found yourself a bit jealous in that moment, considering how chilly it was getting outside. 

“Yes,” he responded. “And you? Your name?”

Once you’d introduced yourself a bit better, you’d fully abandoned your reading assignment, noting that you’d just find your lost place later. You were much more interested in this conversation. Despite his endearing accent, his features were mesmerizing—all soft beauty and dark eyes. You were sucked in instantly. 

“Your accent? What is it?” he suddenly asked, thick eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Like, where am I from?” you laughed a bit. He nodded. 

“Well, I’m from America,” you explained. “You know, like the United States? But my family is Hispanic. I grew up speaking Spanish in my household and still do, so I’m sure a bit of the accent is leftover from them.”

“Spanish? Wow!” he seemed genuinely interested. “And American? Very different.”

The two of you laughed. When silence ensued every so often, it didn’t feel too uncomfortable or awkward, but it did feel more intimate than you’d been expecting. You noticed that when you were not talking, both of you were trailing the other. He seemed just as interested in you as you were in him, if not more. 

After that day, you’d found yourselves hanging out a bit here and there. Just like everything else between you, it seemed to start slowly and develop more and more until it broke wide open.

There had only been a few more days until the first trial of the Triwizard Tournament. Viktor had developed a squealing gaggle of girls that followed him around the campus, no matter if he was working out or just going between classes with his professors. It was annoying to you, but he seemed used to it. 

Sure, there was nothing between the two of you, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that had blossomed within your stomach every time you saw them swoon over him stretching by the Black Lake. It made your chest boil with an uncomfortable heat. It still did, even now.

But he hadn’t seemed to notice. And he especially didn’t notice when he walked over to where you were reading comfortably with your back propped up against one of the smaller willow trees peppered along the lake’s shore. His eyes were curious, but his lips parted in a small, almost shy smile. His cheeks were flushed red from the heavy run he’d just taken, and he seemed eager to draw your attention away from the book pressed against your knees. 

The group of girls that trailed after him seemed to realize that he was approaching you. As your eyes glanced back and forth between him and them, you slowly realized that they were now jealous of you. This was a complete turnaround of the emotions that were being passed along the shore. 

Finally, he squatted beside you and asked you, once again, what you were reading. You’d chuckled quietly and explained the project you had due the next day and how it related to the book. And, after a while, the girls seemed to notice he was not interested in them and was wholly focused on you. And that angered them. They’d stomped, sighed, rolled their eyes, and everything in between before wandering off to who knew where.

And, suddenly, it was just you and Viktor, like it had been the last few weeks. You were chatting idly, sitting next to each other, breathing in the other’s scent and hearing the other’s voice—just enjoying the company. The shore had cleared, and there was no one else around who could easily be spotted. His eyes trailed over your face as his head lay back against the tree behind the two of you. They flickered down to your lips only twice before he’d gathered up enough courage to lean forward and press his mouth against yours. 

And whatever tension that had been blooming between the two of you cracked open like a fruit above your heads, raining sweet syrup and golden light from above. And, damn it, if you hadn’t been so glad your parents had forced you to move in that moment. 

You could still feel the way his hands had gently cupped your jaw as he controlled the kiss in an easy, yet dominating way. It wasn’t much more than an easy, elongated peck, but it was enough to lock you in.

And that is what crossed your mind now as you scurried down the grandstands after the Triwizard competitors’ tent, weaving in and out of your fellow Hogwarts students and scattered attendees of the other competing schools. 

Viktor had just gotten through the first challenge. The Triwizard Tournament was not known for being safe, by any means, but with your newfound affection for the boy, you hadn’t expected to see him thrown in the ring with a literal dragon on his first day. 

But you hadn’t given him enough faith. Viktor had expertly weaved around the creature, fighting and defending, slashing and barking warnings in his native tongue. He’d evaded the giant serpent with nothing but an enormous rock he’d gathered up as a shield and his wand until he could dive and tuck into a roll, collecting the golden egg against his torso as he did. 

When the dragon had realized he’d successfully gotten the fake golden egg away from her—almost completely due to Viktor’s expert use of a curse that temporarily blinded her—she had wailed in anger and shot melting blasts of fire from her nostrils that nearly singed the tail of his outfit. You had clamped your hands to your face, stomach dropping painfully, as you’d watched the high-action event play out. 

But, in typical Viktor fashion, he’d come out on top with a victorious show of the egg he’d collected before disappearing through the competitor’s entrance. 

You pushed through the last crowd of students lingering around the competitor’s tent, blocking the entrance and trying to sneak a glimpse of the focused Viktor Krum and his immaculate skills of elusion. But he had not been taken back to that tent. 

He had told you before he was put into the arena, and before he’d given you a slow, but loving kiss, that they’d be moving him to a separate tent set up a couple of yards behind the other competitors so he could recuperate in peace. And that’s where you were headed now, trying not to draw the attention of the crowd. 

And, just as he said, there was another cream canvas tent propped up a bit behind the other one. The slightly parted entrance flapped gently in the breeze. It was completely unassuming and held the man who was certain to win this thing. 

A smile appeared on your face as you slipped down the grassy hill and gently peeled the tent’s opening back, glancing inside. 

Viktor sat on a collapsible cot with a single mauve quilt thrown over it. There was a small leather trunk on the opposite side of the magically-enhanced tent, stuffed full with his everyday clothes, and an oaken desk to the right of it. It was piled high with things you assumed belonged to his headmaster and professors who had come in and out to support him. 

Viktor wore no shirt. He was facing away from the opening with his right hand pressed against the left junction of his neck. He rolled his shoulder beneath his palm, attempting to alleviate some tension. Already, a few reddened bruises were forming along his body from the abuse he’d endured from the dragon. A couple of scattered scars were drawn down the length of his spine—no doubt from old Quidditch injuries. 

As he massaged his body, his muscles rolled delicately beneath his tanned skin. You were mesmerized by the way he looked, his figure a perfect, masculine depiction. A thick swallow slid down your throat so slowly, you nearly choked. 

His head tilted to the right, his neck popping slightly, and a light groan exiting his lips. A pool of heat echoed deep in your stomach at the visual. All of a sudden, you found yourself extremely desperate for a taste of this man. You’d only known him for a couple of weeks, and you didn’t want him to think you were easy or anything like that, but…Merlin.

“Vik?” you called, though your voice caught in your throat and barely came out louder than a whisper. Nevertheless, he whipped around, catching your eyes instantly. Though he initially seemed a bit disturbed that someone was peeking into his tent, he quickly realized it was you. His expression immediately softened and turned into that same goofy smile he always gave you. 

“Hello,” he spoke, standing from the cot and walking over. “Come in. How did I do?”

“I thought you did very well,” you laughed breathlessly, stepping the rest of the way in and letting the flap slip closed behind you.

The early fall grass crunched beneath your shoes. Even with the only thing between you and the outside world being a thick sheet of fabric, it muted everything outside very well. You could only hear his breathing and your heartbeat thudding in your ears. 

He was now only a few steps from you. Still, he seemed nothing but glad you were here. 

Shyly, your eyes skidded across his naked chest where a few scrapes and early bruises were forming. A few beads of sweat trailed along the hollow of his throat, sliding across the base of his muscular chest. When you looked back up, a small bead of blood caught in the curve of his lips. Your mouth parted as if to say something, your hand rising between the two of you to gesture to the wound. 

You paused, and he watched as you lingered in the open air, trying to decide what to do. He seemed partly confused, but eventually realized what you were alluding to with your annoyingly awkward hand standing in space. His hand rose to his mouth and found the drip of blood there. He wiped it off and smiled.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. He walked over to the chest in the corner, searching for a small towel. You rolled your eyes at your behavior. Were you fucking born yesterday? Why did you just hold your hand in the air like that? You didn’t even say anything. You glanced down. You were still holding your hand out! You rolled your eyes and dropped it down by your side, mentally kicking yourself. 

When he was still struggling to locate something to wipe the blood with, you finally swallowed your pride and walked over to him. 

“Here, let me,” you said softly. You placed your wand against the trunk and whispered the Summoning charm. Both of you watched as a small gray towel slithered through the other things packed inside and sprang into your hand. He smiled.

Hesitantly, you placed the towel against the corner of his mouth, gently patting the pooling blood away. Beneath the scarlet, you noticed a small cut that rose up the side of his lips. It would certainly scar if something wasn’t done about it. 

“It’s just a small cut,” you echoed your own thoughts, actively avoiding his eyes. Your focus was on the wound, refusing to look anywhere else, because you knew if you glanced upward, you’d make direct contact with him. His lips were parted, and his breath was gentle. He did not speak. But he stared. Stared like you’d disappear the minute he blinked. It was alarming. 

When the bleeding stopped just enough for you to pull the towel away, you did so. But your arm was not able to make the full journey before one of his large hands captured your wrist within it. A small gasp slipped from between your lips at the sudden action. Finally, your eyes found his. They were dark, almost animalistic. Desire raged within you. 

“Do I make you unwell?” he murmured. You assumed, due to the undeniable language barrier between the two of you, he was doing his best to ask if you were comfortable with him, but you could barely hear him as it was. The blood rushed in your head so quickly, you couldn’t even think. Your lips were parted dumbly, and your eyes widened at his every syllable. 

“I—no, that’s silly. Why would I be un–unwell? I’m okay,” you stammered relentlessly, eyes fluttering nervously, looking everywhere but him. The hand that wasn’t trapped within his rose to press against your forehead—partly to exasperatedly rub your awkwardness away, partly to hide your face from him. 

The hand that wasn’t holding yours pushed forward to ease beneath your chin. His fingers were warm and steady as they gently directed your face to look back toward his. You swallowed nervously. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed awkwardly. 

“How do you say ‘Can I kiss you?’ in your language?” he asked softly, eyes never leaving yours, hands never leaving your body. 

You blinked stupidly. “Er, you can say ¿Te puedo besar?…”

“Hmm,” he pretended to think for a moment. “T-Te…pue—” He struggled with the pronunciation. 

“Puedo…besar,” you spoke, helping him sound the words out. It was messy and filled with his heavy accent, but he managed to force it out. He smiled proudly afterward, awaiting your praise for his attempt. 

You smiled at him, giggling lightly. “Very good.”

He pushed a bit of hair behind your ear before smiling and asking again. “¿Te puedo besar?”

“Sí,” you whispered, the air echoing softly between the two of you. 

His hands slid along your jawline, cupping it easily, as he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth was soft and controlling, allowing you to sink into the kiss with no responsibilities. He did every ounce of the work. One hand pulled away to slip around your lower back, pinning your body closer to his. 

His tongue slipped against yours as your clenched knuckles pressed against his bare chest. He was hot to the touch, searing into your skin and branding you with the memory of his touch. You’d never be able to wash away his body felt against yours, and you didn’t care. 

Then, he was pulling away, whispering a powerful concealment charm in his native tongue that placed a completely soundproof protection around the entire tent and sealed the entrance, and pressing his mouth back to yours. He walked you backward until the backs of your knees bumped into the cot in the corner. You fell against it with a soft sigh, never allowing his mouth to part too far from yours. 

His hands slipped beneath your waist and, in one dizzying motion, he flipped the two of you. A small shriek left you as he landed with his back on the cot, and you were positioned in a straddle above his waist. He smirked cockily at your surprise.

“Fuck you,” you laughed, leaning back down to press your mouth to his once more. His hands trailed down your body, eliciting chills down the length of your spine with each inch he covered. His fingers slipped beneath the warm sweater you were bundled up in, tugging it upward and over your head. 

“Vik, it’s freezing,” you whined, immediately covering your exposed body with tight arms. You shivered lightly in your—thankfully—decent lace bra. 

“Agh, too warm here,” he laughed aloud. “In Durmstrang, freezing all the time.”

You rolled your eyes, grinding your hips down against his rapidly solidifying core. He groaned aloud at the sensation, his head rolling back gently against the cot. “Hey, dummy, I’m not from there. I’m not even from here! It’s much hotter where I’m from.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the quilt out from beneath him, wrapping it around your shoulders. As he leaned upward to do so, he pressed a few hot kisses to your neck, breath billowing down your exposed chest. “Stay warm…wanna see you.” The whispers against your ear sent chills scattering down your arms. You gasped against him, revelling in the feeling he gave you. 

His hands slipped between your body and the quilt and selected the clasp of your bra, as he continued to trail kisses along your neck and shoulder. As his fingers worked to unhook your bra and slip it from around your body, your hips rolled over his endlessly, amping his and your desire skyhigh. 

When he finally pulled your bra from its place and abandoned it somewhere on the floor, he leaned back with a satisfied groan and ran his hands along your exposed body. He sighed at your appearance, pupils blowing wide and trailing over you. Your cheeks flushed at the exposure, but despite his and your current states of undress, you didn’t feel objectified. Maybe you’d regret your words, but this didn’t feel like a one-time thing. This felt like he wanted you. 

He wrapped the quilt tighter around you, his fingers tracing their way down your stomach until they perched atop the waistband of your jeans. He glanced back up at you as if asking permission, but you would have said yes to almost anything at this point. You nodded fervently as you got to work, undoing his trousers as well. 

Despite your simultaneous attempts, it seemed to work somehow, and you both awkwardly wriggled out of your pants. You immediately pressed your core back to his, revelling in the way he felt through your lace bottoms. He groaned aloud at the sensation, growling out a few curses in his native tongue. You didn’t know what it was, but you adored it when he did that. The way his tongue curled around the words pushed lust into your head so quickly that it made you dizzy. 

With a burst of confidence, you leaned down and mouthed kisses down the length of his abdomen. He sighed easily, torso flexing beneath the weight of your body. Your lips trailed along his body, skipping over the waistband of his briefs and trailing lightly over his core. His hand wrapped in your hair and pulled your head back upward. 

“No…need you now,” he groaned. You nodded frantically as he pressed your lips back together, but resorted to pushing his briefs down his legs. 

His skin was so hot, it felt as if you were lying before a fire. You barely even needed the quilt around your shoulders with the way he heated your body. Perhaps that was how he and all his other fellow students made it up at Durmstrang. It was cold, but they were natural heaters. 

Your lips never parted as his hand slipped between the two of you and slid your bottoms to one side. His fingers hurriedly traced your entrance, collecting a small smattering of slick that pooled there, before easing two within you. You braced as if preparing for the cool temperature of his hands that had been exposed to the October air, but still, his skin remained nothing but warm. In fact, his fingers felt warmer than the inside of you. You shivered at the soothing sensation, lips trembling against his confident ones. 

He worked you open easily but quickly. Though he wanted to indulge in this moment, take his time, and remember every single detail, the second competitor wouldn’t be much longer—if they were even half as good as Viktor had been. The dragon’s challenge was difficult, but it had already been longer than he had taken to defeat it. 

When you were comfortable enough, you pulled his hand away from you and pressed him to your entrance, letting the long length slide into you. You tried to take it slow to adjust to the sensation, but the soreness building in your thighs, the amount of wetness within your core, and gravity working against you, made for little to no resistance from your body. He slid in to the hilt in one quick movement. 

You whined aloud at the feeling, legs shaking at the stretch. Viktor, however, couldn’t get enough of it. Your warm, wet heat enveloped him in all but a second, suffocating his dick from within. His hands wrapped around your hips roughly in an attempt to control your squirming. 

He cursed aloud, his tongue wrapping around that foreign language so perfectly again. You moaned at the sound, rolling your hips along him, ignoring his hands around your hips. 

“Not, ah, won’t last if…” His words were cut off with another groan as you rolled your hips once more. If you were going to be quick, it didn’t matter if either of you couldn’t last. The other competitors would be down soon; you needed to wrap this up. 

Ignoring his pleas, you continued to ride him through the ache in your legs. His perfectly carved length caressed along that spot within you with each movement you forced. 

Despite his outwardly quiet appearance and lack of interaction with other people, he was noticeably vocal in bed—growls and grunts and foreign whispers. And you absolutely loved it. Every sound he made only forced you closer to your own end, even though the two of you had only just started. The weeks of building tension wouldn’t allow for any long-winded escapades today. Both of you would be coming quickly. You could make love next time, you decided. 

So, with that decision in mind, you continued to ride him. That was, until his hands around your hips tightened suddenly. He lifted you upward with surprising strength, before snapping his hips up into you rapidly. At the quick change in pace and angle, stars appeared before your eyes, as he worked you even closer to the end you began. 

“Fuck, that’s perfect, that’s—that’s it, Vik,” you moaned. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He punctuated your sentence with an especially rough thrust that cracked the coil wound tightly within your core. You came hard with a breathy whine. Your finish gushed around him and seeped past your legs with each thrust he pushed back into you. The orgasm only applied even more lubrication for him to lock his heels against the cot and pound into you as quickly as he could to wrench his own finish out of him. 

“Where?” he moaned. 

“Inside,” you breathed, clutching against his body tightly. 

He came with a growl and a few lazy snaps to work him through it. Then, you collapsed against his chest with an exasperated sigh. 

A few moments of silence filled the previously noisy tent. The only sounds in your head were his gentle heartbeat, his even breaths, and your prayers that this hadn’t been a mistake. He was a professional Quidditch player, a foreign student hailing from hundreds of miles away, and an almost complete stranger to you. Your plan had always been to return to the U.S. after you got your diploma, so why was one man making you doubt that? Fuck. 

But his fingers coming down to trace easily over your exposed arms silenced the worries in your head. At least, for right now. You could mull over your adult plans later, but, for now, you were pretty fucking comfortable. 

“Hey! What the hell?” A distant voice interrupted your inner monologue. Viktor and you snapped up and glanced frantically at each other. “I thought they said this was the competitor’s tent!”

The voice outside held an undeniably French accent, which meant that Fleur Delacour was done with her challenge, awaiting her “recuperation tent.”

“Shit,” you said. The two of you quickly hopped to your feet and began to rapidly redress, occasionally confusing certain articles of his clothing for yours and vice versa.

Eventually, the two of you were each wearing your own clothes (for the most part) and playing the role of exhausted competitor and support system who totally had not just fucked in the tent but wore suspicious smirks and struggled not to giggle every few minutes.

---

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[tortoisebore]

I’m literally so excited for the next chapter! Is it still expected around this weekend ?

ik i keep saying this but it really is so close to being done fhfhfhf i just always need a moment to sit with it and reread it a bunch and add all the flowery cutesy lovey dovey stuff

next time i post it will be to let u know when she’s going up i promise ✨

((also it’s gotten a ridiculous amount of kudos in the last week where tf are u all coming from?? did someone rec it somewhere omg))

[sailoryuns]

COMPANIONSHIP ─── JJH [ TEASER ]

summary: after being released from prison for a crime he never committed, jaehyun sets out to conjure up the perfect plan in order to keep up the façade that he’s happily married and is out living his best life— by kidnapping a complete stranger and forcing them to pose as his wife to gain his inheritance.

genre. ex convict!jaehyun x tap dancer!f!reader | 90’s au, strangers to lovers

warnings. angst, (some) fluff, smut, age gap (jaehyun is late 30’s/reader’s in her early 20’s), smoking (cigs), kidnapping, manipulation, gaslighting, stockholm syndrome, physical violence, knifeplay, dubcon, fingering, unprotected s*x, loss of virginity, breeding, more warnings to be added once the full fic is up! teaser wc -> 1.7k

inspired by the film ‘buffalo 66’

disclaimer: everything i write is purely fictional, none of it is meant to portray real interpretations of these people nor am i claiming it to be!

for three years, he was certain he knew how to play this. three whole years, he’d made phone calls from prison and pretended he lived a life he could scarcely imagine. it started with shame and grew from there. he didn’t care about disappointing his parents, but his grandmother wouldn’t have recovered if she’d known where he was— behind bars fabricating these outlandish tales all for her sake.

his grandmother wanted nothing more than for him to meet a nice girl to settle down with. someone who’d love him right; a girl who’d look beyond all the baggage he carried and devote herself to him; a girl who’d keep him out of trouble and one he could put down roots with.

and jaehyun did, but in his other life.

in that life, he’d transitioned from a blue-collar existence working as a mechanic to the lavish lifestyle of a wealthy executive. he’d mastered the art of schmoozing with the owner of the auto repair shop to secure his slot with the big corporate elites. from there, he climbed the ladder that steered him out of trouble and jet-setted around the world.

in that life, he had his own office and a secretary. he had a pretty little wife who loved him and thought the sun rose and fell with him. in that life, he was too busy to spend time with his grandmother and when she passed away, he internalized the guilt of not only lying to her but breaking her heart too.

now only one thing mattered.

his fictitious life that’d cost him so much could now earn his inheritance of cash. that was the stipulation written in the will— that he live on the straight and narrow and marry a nice girl.

but as he’s forced to come face to face with all the endless lies he never wanted to tell, after three years, he’d have to keep lying because jaehyun had to materialize a pretty, sweet wife who loved him, the nice girl he’d chose to settle down with. but truth be told, he didn’t know any nice girls.

he knew stone-cold bitches who ripped his heart out for sport. he knew many aloof upper east side princesses that made damn sure he knew his place— in their thousand thread count sheets for a good time only. it turned out those trust fund nepo babies in three-piece suits were just good for making money, not fucking.

those men put their girls up in lavish digs and jaehyun did his part. he left them crying and coming and begging for him to stay as he shucked back into his clothes before their wall street fiancé returned home. those were mutually parasitic set-ups. he often never saw them again and never really cared that he didn’t.

and so it was; no nice girls who’d come up behind him and kiss his cheek while he sat in a recliner and watched the football game on sundays; no nice girls who’d make him his favorite dinner after a long day of work; no nice girls who’d offer themselves up as dessert with their legs spread and heart open and whisper words of love before falling asleep in his arms.

he’d once wanted that but didn’t have time for that shit anymore. it was all fairy tale garbage. even with nice girls, things often went south. marriages turned loveless and people got their kicks elsewhere. his grandmother lived in a different time. she meant well for his sake, but whatever her dream was for him with love, it just wasn’t going to pan out.

jaehyun stared at the quarter and shook his head with a sigh. he’d have to wing it. he slotted the coin again and punched in his parents’ number before doubt sunk it’s claws into him.

after a few rings, a disgruntled greeting rips through the other end of the line along with a cacophony of background noise— the TV blaring at full volume and the erratic shuffling of papers. he honestly wasn’t sure if it was his two-pack-a-day mother or father who answered. at some point, they both started sounding alike, one unit of congruent misery and loathing for the life they shared.

“hey it’s me,” jaehyun spoke, awaiting a response on the other end.

“who?” the demand was his mother’s. his father rarely answered the phone for this precise reason—it could be his son calling. jaehyun wasn’t moved enough to care. in fact, being disenfranchised from the family was a badge of honor. he’d wear it proudly, but first he wanted his money.

“jaehyun,” he snipped, cutting off the unraveling ends of his patience.

“sorry, who?” her gravel tone became more agitated and with more schlepping of shit in the background, as if fabricating an excuse to hang up; too goddamn busy clipping coupons to talk.

“jaehyun, your son!” he shouted in irritation, “turn the damn TV down, ma!”

“you two made it in town okay? your flight was good?” she asked to check the box of common decency, only to say that she did and not because she cared.

jaehyun cleared his throat and tried to sound jet lagged. he hadn’t been on a plane in more than a decade. what the fuck did he know about it? not shit.

“yeah, it was fine. we’re at the hotel now. i’m calling from the lobby. it’s packed here.” he lied through his teeth so effortlessly, it was second nature for him. every hiccup had an explanation, every background noise an excuse.

“we’re at the fancy hotel, with room service, champagne, the whole nine yards.” jaehyun rested his elbow on top of the pay phone case and cradled his forehead in his palm. “yes the one downtown on madison ave. it’s a big room, it’s beautiful here you’ll love it. it’s the most expensive hotel in the area.”

“no, don’t come here ma,” he quickly interjects, “i said we’ll go to you, okay?”

“come for dinner. we wanna finally get to meet our daughter-in-law. you’ve been talking about her for so long!”

jaehyun stiffened, fiddling with the phone cord. “she’s not coming. she’s sick.”

the excuse was too defensive. his mother didn’t suffer fools or bullshitters, to which jaehyun found himself guilty of both.

“what do you mean she’s not coming?” she demanded. the intermittent drags of her cigarette came quicker; so too did the forceful exhales. “she’s coming.”

“no, she’s sick. she’s not coming, alright? i’m her husband, the man of the house. i vowed to protect her, in sickness and in health, all that shit. i’m not making her go.”

“why is she sick?”

jaehyun gritted his teeth. the question infuriated him on behalf of his imaginary wife. what gave his mother the right to pry?

“i don’t fucking know! woman problems. she’s in bed sleeping. i’m not waking her up. she needs to rest.”

“well she can lie on the couch here with a heating pad,” his mother insisted with more artificial sugar, as if she cared. she didn’t; not for him or his wife. “just bring her over. we want to meet her.”

jaehyun was fuming at this point. if it weren’t for the metal cord tethering him to the spot, he’d pace. instead, he punctuated each word with a sharp jab of his finger, though there was no one here to see. his voice crowded the hall and echoed around him.

“so you want me to ride my ass all the way up the elevator, drag my sick wife out of bed, and bring her over? is that really what you want?”

the honey vacated his mother’s voice and left behind all that was rotten beneath.

“i know why you’re coming, and you know the agreement,” she hissed. “show up with your ‘nice girl’ or you’ll leave here empty-handed.”

“fine!” he raged with no recourse to refuse, cornered now unless he wanted to come clean but he doubled down instead. “she’s fucking sick, but i’ll pull my beautiful wife out of our fancy hotel bed, drag her into the cold, and bring her over for your shitty cooking. wait ’til you see how sweet she is. how are you gonna feel when she’s at your place feeling like shit? huh? you gonna feel good about that?”

with a cutting laugh, his mother revealed the vivid hues of her true colors. try as she might to paint over them, they always ended up mottled and drab.

“i can assure you i’ll lose no sleep over it. not a wink. so, you’re coming?”

“i said we’re fucking coming!” jaehyun slammed the receiver back to it’s cradle hard enough that the pay phone bell responded with a crying ring. he ran his fingers through the loose length of his hair and released a heavy sigh but felt no better for it.

he had well and truly dug his own grave with this one. the worst part? he’d already gone and made plans for his inheritance. he’d get his job back at the auto shop and get a few years under his belt, enough to get his “working hands” back.

he’d leave new york city for good and head out west where money would last, and he could relish simple dreams. he’d leave behind a muted existence and live in the desert painted in coral and gold and drink in the purple dusk. he’d buy a little house and live out his days in simple peace. it was a lot of money he was coming into, but not much he was asking for.

he sunk further into defeat now. he’d wallow there, but as you emerged from the bathroom delicately enough and with enough misplaced compassion written on your face, it was obvious you had overheard.

and what did you overhear? a man trying to get his poor, sick wife out of dinner plans. not just that, but apparently, a gallant albeit foul-mouthed knight in shining armor defending his beloved from forced family bonding.

you hovered at the end of the hall and stared at him inquisitively. big, doe-like eyes peering at him as if you had gotten him all wrong, the corners of your mouth lifted with a youthful smile. jaehyun stared back at you. neither of you making any sudden movement, but for far different reasons.

maybe you thought he was a good man after all, a tender man beneath the rough and uncouth exterior. but soon enough you would learn to your detriment just how wrong you’ve been…

there will be a taglist for this if anyone’s interested, so lmk if you wish to be tagged once it’s posted! <3 (i plan to get this finished by next month or so but we’ll see)

[tyunningism]

Campus Sweetheart !!

── .✦ pairing: c.sb + k.th

Transitioning from your uni dorm as a first year is all over the place, watching your card depleting itself of its last dimes and being fired from your only job is the last thing you'd hope for. Don't worry though, it just so happens to reach your ears that there's a flat looking for a new roommate for a hell of a deal. ♡︎

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...

..in simple words.. ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 4.6k words

mentions!! and warnings!! - Smut , alcohol consumption + partying, slight dubcon( both reader and soobin are slightly drunk)if you squint..., corruption kink, slight dacryphilia, exhibitionism, hickeys, slight voyeurism, dry humping, perv!soobin, reader is a virgin, bunch of filth you get the idea, minor rest of txt mentions. This first part is centred around soobin and reader, part 2 will revolve around tyun xx

tyunningism's note: first fic i've decided to post, went on a big tangent to write about this duo and will never live it down xoxo unedited so might have typos etc.

You've never been more screwed in your 19 years of living..like ever. It just so happened to be that the moment you were fired from some shitty overpriced clothing store across campus which was 'overstaffed', the girls' dorm board were now chasing you up to pay rent! (which is overly expensive as well and can't be paid off now that you're sacked...). You unlock your phone to check what's left in your balance after you went out shopping for cute trinkets of your fav characters, nerdy figurines and a whole closet worth of pink cotton vests.. and oh you are doomed.

Immediately you're skimming through your apps to message the girls you've been essentially rooming with for at least a semester now; typing out a huge paragraph with hundreds of typos as you try to explain your dire situation.

And soon enough the group chat is flooding with questions and voice notes from Giselle and Chaewon.

Chaewonnie 🍒: What the actual FUCK are you on about right now?! You're telling me that creep of a manager sacked you and now you can't stay in the dorms anymore? Gis<3: ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:07 this dorm is shit anyways for 500 dollars a month you saved yourself lmfao Chaewonnie 🍒: Omg not the time gigi... i'll pay for rent until you're back on your feet k? 😟 You: Chaeee :(( It's okay don't. I'll look around for something cheaper i doubt i can continue paying that much anyways even with a job :(( Gis<3: Look on the forum bb, there might be someone leasing out a place that's decent?? If not Chae and I'll just sneak you in anyways.

Your ears perk up at Giselle's idea, quickly sending a bunch of sentimental messages about visiting even after you move out of the dorms before going on to the University forum.

As much as you'd hate to admit, Giselle and Chaewon are complete polar opposites to you. While they're out partying and crashing at some random frat party you're in the dorms alone most of the time keeping on top of assignments or watching cheesy romcoms, even walking around with them made you feel out of place. It doesn't help that your clothes are all frilly and covered standing next to Giselle who wears short tops to accentuate her curves and chest, it's ridiculous really- the stark difference between you two.

A certain post knocks you out of your thoughts as you skim across it:

"Looking for a roommte renting this room for chaep. Call xxx-xxxx-0304"

Anyone can tell that whoever posted this didn't give two shits about renting out the small room with such half assed spelling and it didn't help that the profile was completely anonymous and blank either. But the $200 deal for a month was an absolute steal for what the photos showed, a single room with a bathroom and walk in closet.. how the fuck has no one else snatched up this offer!?

You dial the number and chew on the plump fat of your bottom lip, fingers fiddling with the hems of your sweater and your feet uncomfortably shuffling on the concrete ground.

" Hello?"

There's a moment of silence before your speak up and fuck if your nerves weren't on edge right now you could definitely have saved yourself some embarrassment.

" Uhm..so I saw the post about the roommate thing.. is that still open?"

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It's been about two months since you've moved in; you're still prying around shyly begging to avoid any attention towards you from who you've learnt to be Soobin and Taehyun. And if you thought you stuck out like a sore thumb back at the girls' dorms you were sure to stand out jarringly now with your pink and beige skirts and lace tops next to their baggy jeans worn from heel-bite and oversized zip ups >.<

Something else you weren't expecting were that the two men were devilishly handsome and alluring, obscenely so. Soobin's towering height and dimples which enhanced his smile had completely smote you in the face with shock when he opened the door to greet you, but despite his sincerity, Taehyun wasn't so warm and welcoming.

"Where are you going now?" Taehyun pries, noticing your unwanted presence in the open living room. It's a struggle to not stutter and suffocate under the tension in the air when he confronts you with his usual downgrading tone; his gaze belittling and sly as he quirks a brow at you.

"The small trinket store by campus. Do you wanna come with?"

He scoffs at your statement and laughs almost sarcastically enough to cause heat to rise up to your cheeks, trying to fiddle with your clothes to hide your own shame. He's mocking you you figure and you realise you might've stepped over the line by asking him to go with you on your silly trip- especially knowing he's never been keener to nitpick at you, finding great entertainment in your reactions.

"I'm not being caught with childish shit like that. I'm sure that perv 'll go with you in a heart beat if you suck him off though..." He chuckles at his own sick joke causing Soobin to choke on his drink only to whip his head towards him at his accusations a bit too fast for his own sake.

"Yeah right. If you want to call me the perv i'm sure she'd want to know what you were up to last night," Soobin's prying remark shifts the mood causing the air becomes thicker while you stay silent- still fiddling with your clothes refusing to make eye contact and still completely 'new' to the open talk about their own perverse lives. With the two men staring directly at you, their topic of conversation, you can't help but feel nervous and heated, hoping it wasn't obvious that you were starting to get wet other wise you'd opt to fall into a ditch and die. They're just two men still feeling stuck in puberty and your roommates you've barely gotten used to over the two months, you'd be lying if you didn't feel dirty for drooling so shamelessly about the way they talk about their own fantasies with you. You're quickly dismissed off your thoughts by Soobin's soft comment, "Angel if you really wanted someone to accompany you next time jus' come straight to me yeah? Come on i'll drop you off wherever", completely different in manner to what he was accused of previously.

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You hate to admit that Soobin's a fucking saint but staring at the limited edition figurine which he placed in your hands with a shit eating grin on his face you can only obsess and geek silently. You gaze up at him with near tears of gratitude in your eyes- not wasting any time in wrapping your arms around his large build out of instinct- completely forgetting that he wasn't Giselle or Chaewon. How on earth did you manage to score a roommate like him?!

"Soobin," your bottom lip juts out in to an unintentional pout. "You didn't have to, this isn't..are you- are you sure I can have this?"

The taller male's grin only widens at your words before leaning down to whisper in to your ear slyly;

"Knew you'd like this one. Just consider it as a late welcoming gift, for our new roommate after all." His grin only widens as he snakes his hand around the back of your waist, hands teasingly slipping under your shirt to brush against your bare skin. The action alone has you struggling to compose your self before he stops, humming to himself as he walks off to gawk at some of the more revealing figurines, leaving you dumbfounded and hot, toying with your senses and your head as you follow dumbly behind >,<

The ride home is silent apart from the soft humming escaping from Soobin's lips. His finger, which found refuge on the flesh of your thigh tapped rhythmically to the music playing from the speaker of his car, every now and then he'd inch closer up your thigh before backing down again and god does it make your head spin.

And fuck if you couldn't realise it sooner Soobin was cute, really cute. The glasses slipping down his nose and the rosy hue dusting his cheeks, bangs framing his face, thick fingers steering the wheel which made you burn up feverishly every time you tried to take a tiny peek.Little did you know he's been aware this whole time about your fleeting glances- and he can't help but bite back on his lips when blood threatens to rush towards his dick right in front of his clumsy little roommate !! He knows he's sick and twisted- but who can blame him when he's got a girl as adorable as you in his passenger seat right now??

He even makes sure you walk in front of him up the stairs to your apartment as well, under the guise of 'being able to catch you incase you fall from the steep steps, maintaining enough distance so he could oggle at the imprint of your folds on your panties under your skirt. There was something so sinister about seeing what you were hiding under those flimsy skirts, your cute cotton panties flashed on display directly for his eyes. He almost wants to believe you do these small things to tempt him on purpose, but his adorable little roommate would never be so dirty would she? Soobin's bad, a bad man who's sick in the head for thinking so nastily about what he wants to do to you, he doubts you've even orgasmed before, but no worries because why else would you have Soobin except to teach you?? >,<

And it's not like he's never openly expressed his sexual needs before. With Taehyun in the room he speaks filthily about the Hentai Heeseung shared with him last week that he beat to like a wild man thinking you couldn't hear from your 'soundproofed' rooms, or about the girl Taehyun had over the night before who looked almost a bit too much like you, and the hundreds of porn magazines he has strewn across his room that he attempts to kick under his bed when you knock on his door which you choose to ignore when you enter. You always shy away when the two of them start any sort of sex talk in front of you, he notices it and he's sure Taehyun does too. It's laughable how much of a virgin you are- rubbing your thighs together uncomfortably for any sort of friction before you're excusing yourself shortly to disappear behind the door of your room. He's always adoring how vulnerable and innocent you are, poor you, you don't even know how to make yourself feel good when you listen in secretly on those conversations; the new feeling soaking your panties and soiling them, can't help but feel so dirty :((

Taehyun's no help either, casually walking in to your room when you're clad in nothing but your lace bra and panties before bed, always sneaking in a snark comment about your choice in underclothes which makes you want to melt on the spot out of humiliation. There are times where he'll come back from his trip to the gym with sweat glistening along his forehead and collar bones- Oh.. and he's shameless about it too, openly stripping off his wife beater to toss it in the pile of dirty laundry before making his way next to you on the couch, eyes desperately searching for a reaction on your shying gaze to which he's never let down.

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A confused expression floods your face as you search for the underwear you swore you put in the tumbler to wash. What started as a drawer stacked with your garments ended up with less than half of what it was to begin with. You're utterly lost, and devastated that your favourite pair have now seemed to have gone missing and you doubt Soobin or Taehyun could've mistaken your lacy pink panties for theirs. And in a state of panic you hurriedly ask to who you thought was in the living room,

"Hey Taehyun you haven't seen my underwear or anything lying around have you? I swear I put them in to wash two days ago andnowIcan'tfi-" you complain before opening your eyes wide in shock realising you've just announced your dilemma to not only Taehyun but his shitload of friends too, "Oh my God I'm sososo sorry I didn't know your friends were over ughhh." You groan in defeat feeling your face burn in humiliation.

"Woah what the fuck Taehyun?? You never told me you were keeping a hot chick here?" A brunette gasps almost over-dramatically breaking the silence in the air, immediately combing through his hair with his calloused fingers in an attempt to impress you in even the slightest way.

"First of all Beomgyu, that's my roommate. Second of all she'd never let you hit with all that weird shit you're in to geez."

Taehyun's remark sends the room into an outburst of laughter at who you were assuming to be Beomgyu, now bickering vulgarly with a guy with faded blue box dyed hair, his features strikingly foreign and appealing to your eyes before you snap back in to reality again.

"There's nothing weird in being pegged- that Sophomore Mina from Jaehyun's party let me-"

"She wouldn't let you or Taehyun hit, the nonchalant act will never get him laid pfft. Look you've got her all flustered now," your eyes flicker to the guy who purred, manspreading in jeans a size or two too big for him, a smirk plastered across his face. He beckons you to come over with two fingers, amused at your hesitance and meek posture. He whispers temptingly in to your ear. " 'm hosting a party at Kai and I's frat next Saturday, wanna see you there at 7pm m'kay?"

You swallow and look over at Taehyun as if you were searching for consent despite not needing it, his sigh indicates you to nod obediently making the seductive man chuckle at your eagerness. His tongue glazing over his lips as he studies your skimpy pajamas with cute patterns of your favourite character. The voice notes Soobin sent were right, you were irresistible.

"Slot in your number yeah? Make sure you've got Soobin or Taehyun to bring you." he purrs once again but lower this time, his flirting only makes the cold male grimace,

"Your intentions are as clear as day you whore."

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It's three hours before the party and you're scrambling through your closet to search for something redeemable to wear. You've never been the type to go to parties and now you're regretting your abstinence looking at the girly skirts and cardigans laid out in front of you. There's nothing sexy about your clothes which frustrates you out of your mind !! If there were anyone to save you right now it would be Chaewon and Giselle...

You: Can I come over?? Need something to wear to a party but all my clothes feel out of place yk?? :((

Chaewonnie🍓: AGHH my baby i've missed you sm come over right now, the new girl who moved in is such a bitch I'm glad she's working tongiht.

Gis<3: Stop I've been waiting for this forevrrrr omgggg come over rn I bought this new dress its gnna look so hot on you trust

Chaewonnie🍓: Wait.. isn't it Heeseungie's frat that's hosting a party today? Gosh when did you get to know him??!!

You: Heeseungie??? i got invited by one of my roommates friends.. Yeonjun... I think??

Gis<3: You're kidding.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

L/N. Y/N.

Within seconds of you arriving at the dorms Chaewon is tugging on your hair curling it in to all sorts of twists and curls and pinning it all over your head. Giselle's applying mascara over your lashes which dry out your eyes like hell, dabbing your face with her new foundation cushion and spritzing her expensive mist all over your skin. But it's worth it because looking in the mirror you're in awe at the power and skills Giselle and Chaewon have, you look hot, and you're sure your girls can see the newfound pride in you too.

Until Giselle decides to squeeze you in to a short velvet strap dress Completely bare at the back to reveal your spine and riding up the top of your thigh dangerously, low cut and flush against your chest which makes your cheeks burn just thinking about wearing something so scandalous in front of everyone.

"I don't know guys- don't you think it's too much..?" you worry, not entirely used to clothes feeling so tight yet flimsy on you, like it would come apart in seconds.

"You look hot trust u-"

Ding- Dong

The ring of the doorbell triggers Chaewon to audibly shriek and drag you along to the door before pulling the door wide open for a dressed up Taehyun to admire. You don't miss the way his huge eyes widen even more before landing on the way your dress is snug at your hips down to your thighs; there's no escape from his predatory gaze no matter how much you try to shy away and hide behind Chaewon.

" What? Don't you like it mr. nonchalant?? We've got her all dolled up for you~" Giselle winks before shoving you out the door and slamming it with a giggle leaving you to deal with the tension in the air. You can barely hear the man visibly eyeing you up and down muttering a small "fuck" before he coughs almost animatedly, gripping his fingers around your wrists so hard his knuckled bared white and in to the car park- a small tinge of red blushing the tips of your ears. There was something so rewarding seeing him break down his usually cold demeanour (which would usually be picking at you by now) to shut up and swallow down all the things he has to say, and you couldn't be more right. Fuck if Taehyun had the guts to he wouldn't waste any time rushing you in to the backseat of his porsche, slamming you against the cold windows until your skin burns from the cold before breaking off the straps of your skimpy dress. He'd go slack-jawed just watching the way his cock would be sucked in so vulgarly by your virgin cunt, juices dripping down the valley of your thighs and all over his expensive car seat, thighs quivering and clenching around the thick veins of his dick before he's slamming in to you relentlessly again, shoving two of his finger drenched in your slick in to your warm mouth to keep you quiet 'shut up will you hm? Don't want the entire dorm hearing how big of a slut you are getting off your roommates cock do you?' he'd be so mean, so turned on at you gagging 'round his fingers with fat tears stinging in the corner of your eyes. He'd be a goner the moment you let him have his way with you, he'd go insane and he knows it watching you strap in to your seatbelt tight against your chest, giving him an eager look to start the car completely unaware of the porno flashing through his head right now, he'd rather die than show up to Yeonjun's frat party already hard so he settles with driving off right away trying not to spare you any more attention than he has already.

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Music blasts deafeningly as you awkwardly stumble in to the frat house with Taehyun yawning behind, your eyes scanning over for familiar faces unaware of the attention and stares you're receiving from boyfriends and hotshots, their girlfriends and Taehyun's old flings. But your lack of judgement of your environment only directs you to another familiar face; your eyes light up when you spot Soobin among the crowd, drink lazily clasped in one hand, a blunt shoved between the curve of his soft lips before passing it to Yeonjun who inhales and exhales with his head leaning back against the couch. A girl kisses seductively along his neck; nibbling against his skin until his complexion drew a deep crimson, licking along his jaw and whispering in to his ear keeping him busy.

You blush at the audacity of the act as you observe around, the heat radiating off of drunks slobbering all over and eating each other's faces, which although didn't cause anyone who wasn't making out bat an eye, was for sure making you feel as if you were intruding on something so intimate. But Soobin spots you and plasters a lazy smirk, patting down on his lap and gesturing you to come closer. He reaches out his hands in a grabbing motion to snatch you and place you on his lap before swirling his drink around and handing it to you, signalling half drunkenly to take the shot to which you study in perplexion. You rarely drink alcohol let alone do something reckless like this :(( but you down it anyway as best as you could, the bitter taste of it burns your throat but Soobin's already pouring you another shot. He's watching with glossy and reddened eyes at the way you struggle to down the drinks before moving your legs so that you were straddling him.

"Mhnnn.. you look.. really beautiful t'nite shit, you're driving me crazy bunny." He slurs, tracing his finger along your neck and over the flimsy straps of your dress down towards your chest. His thumb swirls around your nipples through the fabric as he hums, leaning down to place a small peck on the side of your neck.

It's hot and you're feeling the alcohol starting to hit your system, feeling lightheaded and calm as you nuzzle in to his touch, anything but void of shaky breaths and pants when he slips a hand up your already dangerously inviting dress to massage the fat of your thigh.

"Dressed up jus' for me hmm?.. So good for me, such a sweet girl.", he hums once more, breathing in your scent, before retracting his hands away from your thigh causing you to whine.

"Look so pretty, kept thinking...'bout it.. about you, dressing up like this when Jjun told me you were coming. Jerked off so much to your panties pretty, you didn't even know," He rambles on drunkenly half processing the vulgar confessions spouting from his face, you would've never imagined that he'd be the type to be so perverse yet you keep your mouth shut knowing his praise only dampens the wet spot building up in your panties even further. You feel dirty but you can't help the not so innocent thoughts that are clouding your mind. You've never been so intimate with anyone before let alone a guy like Soobin and can't help but feel a bit greedy when you start to rock your hips against his bulge subtlely, " Angel," he grips on your hips before taking a deep breath, " don't do that, I won't be able to resist if you do.."

"I want it Binnie, wanna feel good.. like what you said to Taehyun about what you'd do to me.." Usually you'd cringe at your outspokenness, it was a new side to you; bold, but the alcohol running through you couldn't make you care less as you continued to grind down on the growing tent in the male's sweatpants, gasping when it rubbed against the nub of your clit over and over again causing a mantra of whimpers to fall from your lips.

He wastes no time in leaning in to kiss you sloppily, groaning every time he feels the plush of your cunt rubbing against him so desperately; hands immediately holding your hips still in place because he knows he's going to cum embarrassingly fast when you're on top of him like this. He's been desperate to please you ever since you showed up in front of the apartment door, make you feel good because you can't reach all your sweet spots, corrupt you ever so lightly just to see the expressions on your face so lewd he could cum just imagining it. And now here you are panting as you lay half limp on his lap trying to get the friction you need to send you on that high, tears starting to prick at your eyes when you can't move under Soobin's grip, the uncomfortable neediness in you too overwhelming for you to bear.

"Binnie p-please, need more ngh...I just need to a-ah fuck.." you moan when his hand slithers in to the crevice of your top to grope at your tits, not hesitating to suck on the mounds of flesh lazily, spit and maroon bite marks tainting your chest as he bites ferociously. He feels dizzy, so fucking dizzy and he knows he'll regret being so harsh with you later but he can't think about anything but the throbbing pain in his dick desperate to be buried inside of you.

"You're so good bunny, keep humping my dick like that and i'll cum fuck. Want me to make you cum ? O-oh you're so hot."

You're desperately chasing your orgasm as you grind down against his hard on, moaning deliciously without a care in the world, panting and drooling out the corners of your mouth when your clit rubs against the imprint of his cock over and over again as Soobin's hands made its way to massage the flesh of your ass.

"Binnie c-can't I feel weird, n-ngh feels good please !!"

"Shitshitshit cum for me bunny, so sweet, 'm so close too"

Not long after you're shaking all over with a euphoric surge of pleasure, legs quivering on either side of soobin's thighs until your body goes limp on his broad shoulder- heaving and panting as you come down your high, the far gone man beneath you following not long after under a series of strained mewls and groans. Only to be whistled at by an awestruck Yeonjun who very obviously stares at the curve of your chest that heaves up with every tired breath, jaw dropped in shock.

"What the fuck.?! God you're freaks..damn, I'll admit I haven't seen something so hot in a while though I'll give you that," he comments, a hand grossly pointing at the hard-on straining in his pants after witnessing the whole fiasco. "Let me have a turn with that doll next time yeahhh?" he coos, a finger reaching out to turn your face towards him, batting your eyelashes dumbly as saliva drools down in-between the crevice of your tits.

Your vision flashes in and out of consciousness to even hear or process Soobin's reply before drifting off to near sleep, calm and peaceful in contrast to the explicit and sexual acts you've just meddled yourself in to, your head spinning and a wave of conscience hits you: your first orgasm was at a frat party with your roommate.

And you can sense the glare headed straight towards your direction from the corner of your eye, Taehyun- glaring right at the two of you before pushing off the girl pawing at his toned stomach and straight out of the door. You knew you were in trouble. Big time.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

tyunningism 's work !! 2025

[morchilluv]

Ghosts From the Past - Cho Hyun-Ju x Kim Young-Mi

Warnings: Angst, hints of drug use, smut!!! pre full transition, blow-job, throat-fucking hehe, cunnilingus

Synopsis: Cho Hyun-Ju and Kim Young-Mi met during the games. After getting out, they both lost touch with each other. But soon found each other once again through a support group for the survivors.

A/N: This was a request that I genuinely enjoyed writing. I wasn’t sure whether to do a pre or post full transition, so I might do both;) but it’s not for sure. Let me know if you would like that!

P.S: Sorry if the beginning seems like a lot.. I got too into it. But I added a line where things start to heat up if you would like to just jump right into it! I tried to make the smut equally as long:)

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Cho Hyun-Ju and Kim Young-Mi hadn’t known the other existed until the games. In the midst of that brutal, unforgiving world, they’d formed a bond—stronger than either of them had expected. But once the chaos was over, they lost touch. It wasn’t because they wanted to, but because they needed to, for their own sanity. In the aftermath, each had chosen to think with their heads instead of their hearts.

Hyun-Ju buried the memories of the games, and above all, she pushed Young-Mi to the back of her mind. There were too many things left unsaid between them, too many words and actions she regretted. Every time the urge to reach out flickered, the weight of their shared past held her back—the lies, the betrayals, the moments they’d never been able to confront. How could she face Young-Mi, knowing everything they had been through, without it all coming crashing down?

Young-Mi had waited. And waited. Weeks passed, but Hyun-Ju’s silence never broke. In the stillness, she began to wonder if maybe she had just been a ghost in Hyun-Ju’s life. Perhaps the other woman had found a way to move on without her, had found peace in leaving the past behind. After all, wasn’t Hyun-Ju always the stronger one? The one who had it together, the one who didn’t need anyone else to survive?

The circle of chairs was small but comforting. Hyun-Ju settled into her seat, forcing herself to focus on the facilitator. She tried to avoid looking around, though she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. The others were speaking—some sharing their feelings, others recounting their daily struggles since they’d escaped the games. But her mind was elsewhere.

The door opened softly, and the quiet shuffle of footsteps cut through her concentration. Hyun-Ju froze, instinctively turning her head. And there, standing in the doorway, was Kim Young-Mi.

Their eyes met for a split second. It was as if time stopped—an overwhelming mixture of surprise, confusion, and the faintest hint of relief washed over Hyun-Ju. Young-Mi looked just as startled, her gaze flicking briefly to the floor before she took a seat across from Hyun-Ju. Neither of them spoke. The room felt smaller.

The facilitator, a woman in her forties with soft eyes and a soothing voice, smiled warmly, her expression not unlike that of a mother. "I know it's hard, but welcome. This is a safe space. We’re all here to listen and support one another. Who would like to share first today?"

Hyun-Ju tried to focus on the group—on the faces of strangers who, like her, had lived through the hell of the games. But her mind kept drifting back to Young-Mi. Back to when she had tried—tried so hard—to help her, only to be pushed away.

After a moment, the facilitator turned to Hyun-Ju, her eyes gentle. "How about you, Cho Hyun-Ju? Would you like to share anything today?"

Hyun-Ju’s throat tightened. It had been so long since she had let herself speak about what had happened. She looked at Young-Mi for a moment, but quickly turned her gaze back down to her lap.

"I’m… I’m still trying to figure out what to say," she said, her voice low and hoarse. "Some days, I feel like I’m drowning in the past. I know I shouldn’t, but I keep thinking about what happened… What we went through. And I feel like I failed. Like I failed to help someone who needed me." She paused, swallowing back the bitterness that surged in her throat. "I tried, you know? I tried so hard to help someone I thought I could save. But they didn’t want my help. And maybe… maybe I should have seen that sooner."

Her eyes flicked briefly toward Young-Mi, who was staring down at the floor, her fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her chair. The silence that followed was deafening.

The facilitator nodded gently, recognizing the unspoken pain. “Sometimes, when we try to help someone, it feels like they don’t want us, or like they’re pushing us away. But the truth is, sometimes it’s not about us. It’s about them, and what they’re going through. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Finally, it was Young-Mi’s turn. Her voice was calm when she spoke, but there was a tremor beneath it, like she was struggling to keep it together.

"I’m… Kim Young-Mi," she began, her gaze flickering to Hyun-Ju for just a moment, before looking down. "I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. It’s hard for me to talk about the things I’ve done. The choices I made just to stay alive… and the people I left behind. I thought about reaching out after we got out, but I was afraid I’d just make things worse. And I guess… I guess I didn’t want to admit that I still needed help."

The vulnerability in Young-Mi’s voice made Hyun-Ju’s heart ache. She wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—to make her feel less alone. But her throat closed up again, the words stuck inside. The facilitator offered a soft nod. "Thank you, Young-Mi. That’s a powerful admission. It’s not easy to acknowledge how much we need help, even when we think we’re doing okay."

As the meeting came to a close, the facilitator asked everyone to stay if they wanted to talk more, or just to hang around for support. Hyun-Ju stayed seated for a long moment, unsure of whether she was ready to face the ghosts of the past—especially the ones standing so close.

Young-Mi was motionless near the door, her posture stiff as though she were fighting some internal battle of her own. Hyun-Ju could tell she was waiting for something—for Hyun-Ju to leave, for her to approach, or maybe for the world to give them both some space. But whatever it was, Hyun-Ju wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

Hyun-Ju looked up, finding Young-Mi’s gaze for the briefest of moments. That look, that flicker of recognition, was enough to make her blood run cold. But something in it stopped her from leaving. Neither of them were walking away this time.

For a long moment, Hyun-Ju hesitated, torn between walking out and facing what had always been left unsaid. Then, almost reluctantly, she rose to her feet, her movements stiff and careful as if she were preparing for a battle she wasn’t sure she’d win.

The air felt different now, charged and thick with old wounds.

“You wanted to talk?” Hyun-Ju’s voice was raw, quieter than she intended, her breath catching as she spoke. She couldn’t quite look her in the eye just yet, but she knew Young-Mi heard her. There was no hiding anymore.

Young-Mi didn’t answer immediately, but after a long moment of hesitation, she stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “I—" Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flitting nervously around the room as if she could find some escape.

Hyun-Ju's patience was wearing thin. I’m not running from this, she thought, trying to steady herself. “What’s the point of standing here if you don’t even have the words?” she asked, her tone harder now.

Young-Mi flinched at the bite in Hyun-Ju’s voice but didn’t back away. She looked up, meeting Hyun-Ju’s gaze this time, though her eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite place—regret? Guilt? Fear? It made Young Mi’s chest ache all over again.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Young-Mi whispered, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that felt unfamiliar. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

The words stung, and Hyun-Ju clenched her jaw. Of course she didn’t want to talk to her. She hadn’t wanted to. But she couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t still hurting.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hyun-Ju shot back, her voice trembling despite herself. “Because you couldn’t even be honest with me?” The sharpness of her words felt almost like a relief, like the anger and hurt had finally found an outlet. “You pushed me away. Every time I tried to reach out, you were gone. And I—" Her voice cracked, and for a second, she couldn’t continue. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the old pain or because of the truth she hadn’t dared to speak before.

Young-Mi stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she reached out, her hand trembling as if she wasn’t sure if she had the right to touch. The gap between them was barely an inch now, but the silence felt like an ocean.

“Hyun-Ju…” Her voice was broken, as though the walls she had built around herself were starting to crumble, piece by piece. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to let you in. I was too scared of… of everything I was and everything I wasn’t. After we lost touch, I got sober. I didn't want to lose anyone how I lost you. I didn’t deserve you,” Young-Mi whispered, her words so soft it felt like a confession.

Hyun-Ju closed her eyes for a moment, the flood of emotions too much to bear. She wanted to scream, to push her away, but a deeper part of her, one that was still fighting for something she couldn’t quite name, kept her still. “And I didn’t deserve to be lied to, Young-Mi,” she whispered back, her voice cracking. “I wanted to help you. I tried to. But you wouldn’t let me.”

The words hung in the air between them, a bridge to everything unsaid. Hyun-Ju’s heart was racing. There was no going back now.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

As the room cleared out, the silence between them stretched, like they were caught in some invisible web. Hyun-Ju didn't know if it was the vulnerability in Young-Mi's eyes or the depth of the silence between them, but suddenly, she wasn't sure she could stand back anymore.

Without thinking, her hands reached for Young-Mi, pulling her into a kiss—slow at first, hesitant, as they were both afraid that the other might pull away. But it didn't last. Young-Mi's lips moved against hers, deepening the kiss, and at that exact moment, the world around them disappeared.

Hyun-Ju pulled back for a split second, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Hyun-Ju didn’t want to freak her out or make her uncomfortable. "Are you sure?"

Young-Mi's eyes were wild with desire. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm sure."

The kiss grew harder, fiercer, as Hyun-Ju slid her hands up to grip the back of Young-Mi's neck, pulling her deeper.

"God..." Hyun-Ju muttered, her voice thick with desire. "I've missed you."

Young-Mi didn't reply. Instead, she kissed her with more fierceness that left no room for doubt. She needed her. Young-Mi pulled away for a split second to remove both her and Hyun-Ju's shirt. Quickly pulling back to kiss her once again.

Hyun-Ju's hand wasted no time in unclasping Young-Mi's bra. Her hands massaged Young-Mi's breasts. Pinching and playing with her nipples. Young-Mi's soft moans could be heard throughout the small room.

Young-Mi started trailing kisses down Hyun-Ju's neck. Unclasping her bra as well. Making sure to pay attention to both her breasts as she started trailing down further. Softly leaving kisses all over Hyun-Ju's stomach and stopping right above her pubic bone. Young-Mi looked up at her, silently asking for permission. Hyun-Ju—entranced by the girl kneeling before her—immediately nodded.

Young-Mi quickly unbuttoned Hyun-Ju's jeans and pulled them down along with her undergarments. Her hand flew to the base of her cock, while the other played with her balls. Young-Mi licked a long stripe of Hyun-Ju's cock. Leaving Hyun-Ju with goosebumps and even more desire. Young-Mi sucked on her tip and slowly made her way lower, taking all of Hyun-Ju's dick in her mouth. As she started bobbing her head, Hyun-Ju tangled her hands in Young-Mi's hair and started thrusting into her mouth.

She tried her hardest not to gag as she let Hyun-Ju fuck her throat.

"You look so pretty taking my dick, Yeobo." Hyun-Ju's moans bounced off the walls. She was close to her climax but swiftly pulled Young-Mi away from her and stood her up.

"What are y—," Hyun-Ju cut Young-Mi off with a kiss. Switching roles, Hyun-Ju left trails of small kisses on Young-Mi's body. The only difference was that Hyun-Ju seemed more desperate and was faster to get to the area where Young-Mi wanted her most.

"Can I?" Hyun-Ju questioned. Though she had known the answer by now, she still needed the consent. Young-Mi nodded softly. "Use your words, Young-Mi. Or did I fuck your throat too hard?" Her voice had a darker, cockier tone.

Young-Mi couldn't help but feel nervous at her sudden change in tone. "Yeah," She breathed. "I mean— yeah, you can."

Hyun-Ju smirked as she undressed Young-Mi. After getting her completely naked, Hyun-Ju lifted Young-Mi’s right leg and rested it on her left shoulder, getting a perfect view of her cunt. Young-Min looked down at her, mesmerized.

None of them ever thought they’d be in this position. They’d unquestionably daydreamed about it before, but never truly expected their fantasies to become real. Frankly, it was a dream come true.

Hyun-Ju’s hands gripped Young-Mi’s thighs tightly as she looked at her with an intense, hungry gaze. Without a word, she buried her face between her legs, her tongue delving deep into her pussy, eating her out with a fervor that leaves her gasping and trembling. She continued to devour her pussy. Hyun-Ju’s tongue swirled around her clit as she sucked and licked, driving Young-Mi wild with pleasure.

She pulled her closer to her face as she ate her out even more aggressively. She can feel Young-Mi getting close, so she stops briefly, looking up at her with her face dripping with Young-Mi’s juices.

She lifted Young-Mi up and laid her on a random table, spreading her legs wide as Hyun-Ju stands between them. Her face delved back in between Young-Mi’s legs. Her tongue thrusted deep inside Young-Mi as she sucked hard on her clit. She continued eating her out mercilessly, not stopping until she screamed in ecstasy, her whole body shaking as she came hard on Hyun-Ju’s face.

Hyun Ju stands up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked down at Young-Mi with a smug grin. Hyun-Ju takes ahold of her red throbbing cock and strokes it a few times before rubbing it up and down her pussy.

“Are you sure?” Hyun-Ju asked one last time. The question didn’t linger in the air for too long before Young-Mi consented.

“I’m sure. But… Can you be gentle at first? Please?” Young-Mi’s soft voice warmed Hyun-Ju’s heart.

Hyun-Ju slowly lowered herself onto Young-Mi, filling her up inch by inch as she looked into her eyes. She started to move gently, her hips rolling into Young-Mi’s as she kissed her softly. "Like this?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Am I being gentle enough?"

Young-Mi only being able to hum and softly moan Hyun-Ju’s name.

Hyun-Ju continued to kiss her softly as she started to pick up pace, her gentle thrusts turning into a slow and sensual rhythm. She pulled out almost completely before pushing back in, stretching Young-Mi and filling her up in the most delicious way.

"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock.”

Young-Mi was never exactly good at dirty talk. Though she always loved it, she was never able to say the right things. So at this moment, all she was able to do was whimper, moan and squirm beneath Hyun-Ju.

Hyun-Ju’s hands moved to Young-Mi’s breasts, squeezing them gently as she continued her slow pace.

"Your tits feel amazing in my hands...” She kissed her neck softly. "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?” Hyun-Ju whispered against her ear "Your pussy is gripping me so perfectly..."

She started to play with her nipples, rolling them between her fingers as she thrusts into her. "I love how responsive your body is...” She kissed Young-Mi’s collarbone. "The way your tits bounce with each gentle thrust, the way your pussy squeezes my cock... it's all so fucking perfect.” Hyun Ju couldn’t help but let out quiet moans. A sound that was like music to Young-Mi’s ear.

“Your dick feels so good, Hyun-Ju.” Young-Mi said lowly. “Harder. Please, Hyun-Ju. Harder.”

“Goddamn...” Hyun-Ju began moving in controlled, powerful strokes, the desk creaking slightly underneath them.

“Oh fuck.” Young-Mi moaned. “Oh my God.” She gasped. Hyun-Ju’s cock felt so good inside her. Is this what they’ve been missing the whole time?

Hyun-Ju’s eyes rolled back in her head as she fucked her mercilessly, her balls slapping against Young-Mi’s ass with each powerful thrust. She reached between Young-Mi’s legs, her fingers finding her clit once more, rubbing it in fast, rough circles.

Young-Mi’s body arched as the pleasure was starting to become too much for her. Her head was spinning and she was suddenly very desperate for her release.

Feeling her walls tighten around her cock, Hyun-Ju knows Young-Mi’s close. She bites down on her shoulder, sucking hard to leave a mark as she fucked her even harder, her movements becoming erratic and desperate. “Come on, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock.”

Both of them were now a hot moaning mess, desperately chasing the high that had become a long, distant friend.

With one final, brutal thrust, Hyun-Ju buries herself inside Young-Mi, her cock pulsing as she unloads a massive load deep within her pussy.

As soon as Hyun-Ju cums, Young-Mi does as well. Whimpering loudly, she sat up to lean her body against Hyun Ju’s. Hyun-Ju held her in place, her arms wrapped around Young-Mi’s waist as she rode out her orgasm, filling Young-Mi to the brim with her hot seed.

Young-Mi breathed loudly. Her body solemnly rested on Hyun-Ju’s body, as if it completely relied on her for support.

Hyun-Ju stayed buried inside her, her cock twitching with the last few spurts of cum. She peppers soft kisses along Young-Mi’s neck and shoulder, a stark contrast to the rough fucking mere moments ago. Pulling back slightly, she meets Young-Mi’s gaze, her eyes still dark with lingering desire.

Hyun-Ju pulls out slowly, her cum dripping out of Young-Mi’s well-fucked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful. You’re everything to me. I don’t want to lose you again, Hyun-Ju. Please promise me you’ll never leave,” Young-Mi rested her hands on Hyun-Ju’s cheeks, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“I promise, Young-Mi. I’ll never leave you. I wouldn’t want to lose you all over again,” Hyun-Ju’s voice was soft and delicate. It comforted Young-Mi. It made her feel safe. “Let’s get cleaned up,” She smiled.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

[solaireez]

untitled

Luke Castellan x fem!reader

warning: smut, sub!luke if you squint, not very good writing, not proofread😭

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i was bored and i want to post it so 🤷‍♀️ kinda slow build up towards the actual smut part. i had no idea how to transition from a non sexual setting so, mac n' cheese.

i apologize if my writing is poor, the only thing i’ve wrote besides this was a Draco malfoy fanfic back in 2020 which was so much worse. and i’ve never posted anything on tumblr.

Summer air fills my lungs, camp was being more calm as usual. The campfire glowed dimly beneath the daylight. Luke sat next to me, eating through his lunch. His left hand placed delicately on my right thigh. I glanced up at him, his dark curls practically poking through his eyes.

“you should let me cut it.” I laughed, raising my right hand to push his hair away from his face.

 I took a strand and pulled, measuring how far his hair went. It sat right below his eye. He looked up at me. He smiled despite his mouth being full of mac n’ cheese. His scar scrunching up as he tried to hold his laugh. He quickly tried to swallow his food so he could reply.

“fuck, no” he pulled his head away from my grasp on his hair, laughing.

“why?” I asked firmly. My hand reached back up to mess up his hair.

He grasped on my wrist, both of them. He pushed them away from him. We stopped abruptly, staring at each others eyes. His drifted briefly to my lips. Our breaths were heavy. His grip still tight against my wrist, I was sure he could feel my pulse. He let go, chugging the glass of water before standing up and dragging me to his cabin.

It was empty. It was just us.

My back gently hit the wall by his bed. His hands falling down from my neck down to my waist. Our lips crashed, my hands reached back into his hair. The sounds of people screaming from afar was drowned out by our own breaths. I hummed, pulling away. My fingers traced his scar, I felt him twitch from the touch. He rested his forehead on mine. I pushed against him, guiding him to sit down on the bed. He followed my lead, looking up to me from his position. I stood in front of him, my hand stayed on his cheek, his hand still on my waist.

I slowly climbed on him. Carefully setting each knee beside him. Our eyes still locked. Our breaths still thick around us. I settled above him, refusing to sit on his lap. He had his head tilted back to look at me. My hand supporting the back of neck. Our lips met again, I pulled his head further up. I deepened the kiss, causing him to fall back to the bed. He laid down, watching me sit above him, his eyes never left me. I reached the hem of my shirt, slowly raising it to reveal my skin. That was when his eyes left mine for the first time. He watched me slowly remove the bright orange shirt. His breath hitched as I revealed my tits. His eyes were hungry. Hungry for me. I stepped off the bed, letting him reposition himself on the bed. I unbuttoned my shorts, watching his eyes try to decide where to look. The way I slid my shorts off forced a moan out of Luke. His eyes staring back to mine. He took his bottom lip between his teeth. His hands quickly took off his shirt, then his pants. He was naked before I made my way back on the bed. I still had my bra and panties on. I was on my knees above him. His hand reached behind, fiddling with my bra clasp. I smiled, letting him know he could take it off. He quickly did, with one hand, while the other rested on my waist. I let my bra fall down my body. His eyes falter, falling to my bare tits. my hands trace along the hem of my panties, the stop on each side of my waist. I pull them down slowly, purposely teasing Luke. He took a deep breath as I reveal my pussy. His cock twitched against his abs. I got back up, completely removing my panties.

I finally settled down on his thighs. The base of his cock sat inches from my core. I moved closer to his face, he moved forward, expecting me to kiss him. I held his head in place, roughly cupping his chin, causing his lips to part.

“open.” I commanded.

His mouth opened wider. I inched closer, and closer. I let our lips almost touch, before I shoved my tongue in his mouth. This kiss was different. We were desperate. I sat up, my left hand going down and guiding his cock into me. We moaned into each others mouths. We felt dirty. I lifted my hips, before slamming back down. His hands now gripping my ass. His grasp limiting my movements. He slowly pushed my body toward him, making me grind on his dick. Our mouths still latched on each other. He kept his place on my ass, helping me move. Our moans filling the empty cabin. I pulled away from him. My head lowered to his neck, biting down on his adams apple. His head fell back, allowing me more access. I chuckled at him, my lips kissed the skin. Occasionally biting down, hard enough to leave marks. Every time my teeth sank down, a whimper make its way out his throat.

“fuck…” he whispered, his nails digging into my skin. My hips maintained a rhythm against his cock. His hands leave my ass, moving up to my back. Then he was hugging me. His head falling, he rested his head on my collarbone.

“Luke.” His name left my mouth like a plea. He lifted his head, looking back to my eyes. We kissed again, this time it was softer. It felt reassuring. My arms sat around his neck. Our movements became sloppier, the rhythm lost within the pleasure. I felt his cock twitch inside me. A familiar feeling bloomed in my stomach. Our faces rest against each other as we caught our highs. His cum spilling inside me.

We let our breaths slow, embracing each other. My forehead touching his. I kissed his face, every part I could reach without moving too much. He softly gripped my hips. I understood what he meant. I got off from my place on his lap, his cock slipping out of me. He carefully laid down, leaving space for me in his arms.

“I’m pretty sure we have archery right now.” He groaned at my reminder. His arm went to cover his flushed face. I laughed at his behavior. I dressed myself, watching Luke complain and try to get me into his arms.

“we have to go Luke!” I threw his shirt to his face, then his pants, which he did nothing about, laying still. I removed the clothes from his face, and threw his boxers instead, which triggered him to get up. He hugged my body and threw me back into bed. He caged me. I couldn’t move one bit.

“I’m letting you have 5 minutes.” I grumbled, burying my face into his bicep.

He only hummed in response.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Unforgivable (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond and you are tired of being pawns. Instead of chess, you decide to play draughts.

Requested: Yes! Because nothing is more PDA than murdering the man who dares touch your wife.

A/N: Isn’t like, a rite of passage writing Baratheon reader?

Warnings: Mature language, attempted SA (Bedding ceremony, ripping clothes), implied smut. Enemies to lovers to the cursed play.

“By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.”

Being a second born son isn't easy. Getting all the responsibilities and none of the recognition stings, yes. But nothing does more than knowing you are the spare, and that the throne is right at your fingertips. It is like throwing a steak in front of a dog and ordering him not to slobber.

Aemond is not a dog. He is a dragon. And that makes it much more worse. He can’t help but crave, but want. Sink his teeth on it and snarl, tear apart until nothing is left. As he rides towards the Stormlands, with the very real possibility of running into one of his nephews in his future, he thanks the Seven for his self control.

As he left, his mother had reminded him of the importance of behaving with the utmost decorum. To secure the alliance, Aemond must perform his duty and forget all thoughts of vengeance.

Were it to turn into an all out war, they are greatly disadvantaged. The number of dragons they have is not enough to form a real opposition to Rhaenyra. If they have enough soldiers, though, perhaps it will make the whore think twice about starting it.

But even without her, Aegon needs this. He will forever need to prove his legitimacy as a King to the rest of the realm. After all, their father had nearly twenty years to make him heir and had only done so as an afterthought. Everyone would wonder what did that say about his character. His brother needed to prove himself a capable ruler, one that would unite the Seven Kingdoms and protect them under his banner.

This is a war that will be fought through connections and resources, not violence. Aemond’s hatred cannot jeopardize that. Duty must come above everything else.

He only hopes duty doesn’t come with the face of an ugly cow. Securing the alliance with the Baratheons is vital, and his grandsire had made it apparent Aemond should use any means necessary to get what they required.

“Play your cards right, Aemond.” He had said, staring at a map of Westeros. If looks could make an entire nation bend the knee, it was for sure that after that glare, all the Kingdoms would be for Hightower. “Offer them trade, lowered taxes… Borros is an easy man to fool. Never was one for the letters, that one. But if he won’t budge… He has five daughters.”

Aemond had only nodded. Despite not being spoken out loud, the message was clear. Try not to, but if necessary, marry one of the little fools. For that was what they were, with a father as Borros Baratheon. Everyone in the Stormlands knew their lord could not read. And the so-called Four Storms were praised for their beauty, grace, and manners. Not for being particularly learned.

Five daughters. Surely, his grandsire had been wrong. Everyone he asked agreed there were Four Storms. It had struck Aemond as odd, that he would make such a simple mistake. Otto Hightower was a figure larger than life, a great thinker that commanded every room he was in, and blessed with an excellent memory. But it was not as odd when considering the amount of stress the poor man was under.

Everything felt urgent and not quite real. Aegon’s transition had been an easy one in the logistical side of things. His grandsire and mother had been already running the realm. But despite being prepared for Rhaenyra’s resistance, they hadn’t expected her to actually gain supporters. They had prepared, but Aemond still felt as if none of this could actually be happening.

His lack of a bride, purposeful in case an alliance was needed, was soon to come to an end. He felt much like he imagined maidens must feel like. Aemond was about to be sold to the highest bidder, and in this case, that was Borros Baratheon. And whichever of his little fools was the least annoying.

Well, he was in no need of a clever wife. If it were necessary, Aemond would pick the more pleasing one and be done with it. He could place her in another wing of the Red Keep and not have anything to do with her.

When he enters Storm’s End, Aemond is taken aback. He had done his research about the Baratheons. Four Storms. A couple of sons. Borros and his old Lady Wife. But the gossip he had been privy to had been outdated. Because next to Borros Baratheon sits a girl in a smaller throne. You. His new bride.

Borros doesn’t stand up to greet him. Neither do you. Aemond fights to remain calm, despite the display of disrespect. He focuses his attention, instead, on the contrasts between the two of you.

Borros is sprawled without a care, legs spread and belly sticking out. You sit primly, legs crossed at the ankles. You are a beauty, next to the man you are married to. A maiden in the bloom of youth, around Aemond’s age. What could have possessed your family to marry you to such a beast?

It had not been an indiscretion. You do not show any sign of being with child or being nursing. You also sit very proper and proud. If you are a little deviant, it doesn’t show in the way you hold yourself.

The lady of Storm's End, mother to the Storms, has to have passed recently. Otherwise, it would make no sense why Aemond had not heard of it. And while he understands the urges men tend to have, when faced with a second chance at marriage, this is a bit much.

Aemond was in no place to judge, considering his birth had been the consequence of a similar match. Yet Borros Baratheon was no king in need of heirs, and you were young enough to be his daughter. Seven Hells, if Aemond’s guess about your age was right, you were around the eldest Storms's ages. Disgusting. Your beauty was wasted in such an unmannered, daft beast.

“Prince Aemond.” Borros says, lazily scratching his belly.

“Lord Baratheon.” Aemond hates himself for it, but forces himself to bow his head. Then, he turns towards you. “Lady Baratheon.”

“To what do we owe the honor?” The answer is dripping in sarcasm. Borros, of course, must already know why Aemond is here. He has either already made his choice about what side he is on, or he intends to make Aemond grovel. Neither sit right with him. The thought of humiliating himself for a Lord’s pleasure is one that makes his back stiffen and anger burn hotly in his stomach.

He is a Prince of House Targaryen. Not some beggar that has come to plead for aid. But Aemond grits his teeth and starts sprouting the script he had written in his head as he rode here.

“It’s with great sadness that I inform you of my father’s passing. Of course in these trying times, we must remain united, and no house has stood with Targaryens…” The speech has as much emotional conviction as if he were speaking about the reproduction of cattle, which is to say, none. He knows this is not what will convince Borros. He is a simple man. Borros likes good food, good wine and women. The language he speaks it's not flowery, heartfelt speech, but rather gold and land.

“So you seek an alliance.” Borros extends his hand, impatiently. Aemond nearly bristles at the interruption. He only manages to keep his temper in check through years of taking Aegon’s insults. “Pass me the letter your grandsire has written.”

“Here.” Despite knowing the man doesn’t know how to read, Aemond hands it to him. Men’s egos are fragile things, and he knows too well how the sting of embarrassment can fuel hatred. He is not going to risk his chance and insult him.

Borros opens it. He scans it over, noticing the royal seal. Then, he shifts towards you.

“Girl, come here.”

Aemond's brows raise. Did Borros keep you by his side not only for his personal satisfaction? The existence of your little throne makes more sense that way. Surely, not even that fool would be so crass as to have you on display just to show off his younger bride.

You go to him, barely acknowledging Aemond. You skirt around him as if he were part of the furniture. He gets a whiff of your perfume, something expensive and decadent. It’s that what makes Aemond take a second look at you.

You wear a black velvet dress in one of the latest fashions of the capital. You are dressed better than most ladies at court, hands, and neck dripping in jewels. Your hair is held back by a golden hairpiece that emulates the antlers that the Baratheons are so famous for.

Perhaps you are a way for Borros to flaunt his riches. A power play meant to intimidate visitors. Not only has he managed to get a younger bride, but he showers her in jewels. It might be a way to show off his manliness, to show his vassals and other lords that he is still powerful and virile. It has to be the stupidest thing Aemond has ever seen.

You take the parchment from Borros's hands. All tiny steps and swaying hips, you get even closer, to whisper in his ear. Your muttering is fast and frantic, and despite how acute Aemond's hearing has gotten since the loss of his eye, he can't make out the words.

The expression on the Lord's face shifts, from annoyance to amusement.

“Taxes? Lowered taxes?” Borros asks, nearly laughing. “That’s all you are willing to offer?”

It had been, in fact, all that his grandsire had been offering at first. The best thing to do when starting a negotiation was to start lower than what you actually intended to offer. Then, when you gave in and offered more, the other person would feel like they were winning.

“No, my lord. Merely the starting point. If you read the last few paragraphs, you will see trade…” Aemond tries to redirect the conversation back to the important part, but he is surprised to find that he can’t. Because you cut him, smoothly, and with a smile so sharp it might make Vhagar nervous.

“We will see you offer us a trade deal that’s worse than what we already have. Are lowered taxes and worsening of our trade deals what we should expect from our new King? I shudder to think how King Aegon treats his enemies, if this is how he treats…”

Aemond's eyebrows raise. So you speak. And quite eloquently. Strange for a trophy wife. Even stranger, that your husband allows it. Men who marry little girls young enough to be their daughters are not known for their consideration towards women.

“My Lady, with all due respect…” Aemond needs to stop you because if what you say it's true, then his grandsire has made a grave miscalculation. Or a shrewd attempt to fool Borros Baratheon. Knowing him, the second one is more likely. He has a tendency to underestimate other’s intelligence. It was a flaw often found in bright men. Aemond suffered from it himself.

You do stop speaking, staring at him with hatred in your eyes. You either hate men, him, or being interrupted. Perhaps all three. Your eyes narrow, and you look on the verge of doing something very unladylike.

Gods. If you were Helaena, or his wife, he would already have reprimanded you. Aemond turns towards Borros, hoping to get some show of camaraderie from the man. Women, so easily offended. Surely, he would put you back in your place.

But instead of scolding you, the man gave Aemond an angry scowl.

“I will not tolerate any disrespect towards my daughter, Aemond Targaryen. Let her finish.”

The omission of his title would have stung in ordinary circumstances, but not this time. He was too busy gawking over the fact that you were not Borros' wife, but his daughter. You two were nothing alike.

Daughter. Of course. That’s why the man defers to you, why he has you seated to his right. At least that count his grandsire had gotten right. Five daughters, indeed.

“As I was saying. I do not understand why we should take your side. We have yet to receive an offer from the other contenders. Your terms are not generous enough to declare yet.” Your answer is clipped. You are clearly annoyed with him, but you do raise good points. Aemond sees no trouble in listening to you. If Borros wants to indulge you, a little girl playing politics, he won't be the one to stop you.

“So you think, my lady, that you should play both sides?” Aemond arches an eyebrow, leveling you with a glare. No matter how many good points you make, he is not above intimidation to get what he wants. He knows he cuts an intimidating figure, with the dark clothing and the eye patch. Many of the women at court avoid him for that very reason.

But unlike the women at court, you do not wither under his gaze. You bloom. Your back straightens, and you give him a calm look. Your eyes are sweet, almost as if Aemond were flirting with you and not looming menacingly.

“It’s hardly that. I’m simply waiting to make an informed choice. You barge in here, unannounced and in a hurry, hoping to pressure us into an alliance you clearly need.” Your speech is well pronounced and to the point. As soon as you voice it, you seem to lose all interest in him, brushing past to get to your tiny throne.

Aemond turns and stares, unashamedly. The nerve on you. While you might have seen through him, it didn't allow you to just disregard him like that. Who did you think you were? You were just a lady? He was a Prince, the blood of the dragon!

“And we Baratheons are no pushovers.” Borros adds, approvingly. He seems to take your opinion, turning towards you for approval. The man clearly loves you. “We are stags.” Your eyes narrow. Your father clears his throat and rushes to add. “And does. We do the pushing.”

It’s not a good line, but it gives Aemond an opening. If the man cares for you such, it's not wealth that will sway him, nor the promises of land. There is only one thing a man with five daughters could want, especially regarding his favorite one.

“I do have something else to offer.” Aemond says, eyes firmly on Borros. He is purposely excluding you from the conversation, knowing it will sting. Good. You have been horrible to him so far, you deserve it.

“Do tell.” You insert yourself regardless, and he turns to you with his more welcoming smile. You have just dug your own grave, and you don't even know it. It will make his victory much sweeter.

“I would marry you. You are beautiful, and clearly intelligent.” Aemond's expression turns malicious. Your face pales, turning an awful gray shade. You know as well as him that you can't deny him.

“And what use do I have for a second son?” Your hands go to your hips, and you jump out of your tiny throne. You stalk forward, all bared teeth and bravado. Gone is the pretense of sweetness. When cornered, you bite and bite hard.

The insult stings, and Aemond has to fight the urge to slap you. You got quite the mouth and a talent for knowing where to strike. It’s a dangerous combination. He wants nothing more than to exert vengeance, but confronting you now would be unwise. Instead, Aemond fantasizes about what he will do to you if he ever gets you as a wife.

Pinch you. Tug on that pretty hair. Maybe smack you in the arse until you were begging for forgiveness. His mouth twists into an ugly smile. The mental images give him the strength necessary to turn towards your father and try to sway him.

“My Lord, you cannot keep her here forever. You surely know what will happen when you are no more. She will depend on the mercy of his brother. The Lady needs someone to take care of her.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way you are baring your teeth. Whoever said you were a doe was wrong. You look more like a boar, pretty features twisted in rage.

Lord Baratheon laughs. This time, it's not mocking, but full of humor. Aemond decides it to take it as a good sign.

“And so you now ask I give you my doe. You are a bold man, Prince Aemond.” Definitely a good sign, then. Now he is suddenly a Prince again. Aemond turns towards you and gives you a smug grin. Your hands wrap so hard around the fabric of your pretty gown, he hears a ripping sound. Your father remains oblivious.

“I would be her fiercest protector. Staunchest supporter.” Aemond hurries to reassure him. Borros just needs a little push to give in. He can practically savor it. What does a father fear the most when handing a daughter away? “I would never force her to obey me beyond the reasonable respect a wife should have for her husband.”

It is, of course, a load of crap. He fully intends to take you down a few pegs. But what Borros doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Father…” You cut in, urgently. Your father is too busy looking at Aemond like he is his hero to notice. The expression on his face is close to orgasmic bliss, as disgusting as the thought is. Any more, and the man will burst from happiness.

“She would want for nothing. I would treat her as it befits a woman of her station. There would be no greater joy for me than getting her hand in marriage.” Aemond pleads. That is true. At least halfway. You would live comfortably, he would make sure of it. And he would be glad to marry you, if only to be able to get his revenge. Would you want for nothing? Doubtful. You would probably want your family, a loving husband, being away from the Red Keep… But financially, you would be set.

Borros stands and gives Aemond a pat on the back. His expression lights up, looking ten years younger. In contrast, your face falls. You look between the two of them, shaking hands, and look ready to bawl.

“It will be an honor to join our houses, Prince Aemond.” The man boasts, joyfully. Aemond smirks. As petty as it is, he feels as if he has conquered a Kingdom. There is nothing sweeter than the look of pure defeat you wear.

But hearing your father so happy about the match seems to be the last straw for you. You step between the two of them.

“Why not Floris? She is the prettiest among us all. Or Maris? She is very learned!” The offer is desperate, and by the look on your face, you know it. Your face scrunches up in disgust, as if you cannot believe your words. Betraying your sisters for your own safety seems low. Aemond can tell you don’t mean it, but knowing that you are trapped so well you are lashing out pleases him.

Your father's hand goes to your wrist, and he pulls you forward. You go easily, and Aemond makes a mental note of it. He finds interesting how easy you are to subdue if handled properly. Your father seems to have a knack for it.

“You will have to forgive my doe.” Borros says, ruffling your hair affectionately. You stare, looking like a disgruntled kitten. It's clear you are not impressed. “She has the Baratheon temper, but can be quite sweet too. Hence, the name.”

“Of course.” Aemond says, magnanimous. He will need to play the devoted fiancée until he has you out of here, less your father regrets the agreement. But after… Oh, he is going to have fun taking you down a few notches. “Only looking out for her sisters. After all, it's odd the eldest is not married and this one will be.”

You smile at him. Your smile promises pain. Aemond wonders, for the first time, if you have similar plans for him. If you do, he welcomes the challenge. It will be even sweeter when he prevails.

“She is very sensible.” Your father plays with a stray curl behind your ear, tucking the hairpiece more firmly. He remains ignorant of the heated glares Aemond and you are exchanging. “Always has wanted to be swept off her feet, though.”

“Father, perhaps he should take a look at my sisters first. The famous Four Storms.” The words come out between gritted teeth, eyes still burning a hole through Aemond.

“I don't need to, my lady. Are any of them as politically inclined?” He does not dare reach for you, with your father on the way. He would like to touch you. Aemond is not sure about why he feels that urge, but he thinks it is due to your infuriating nature.

“They are not. Cassandra, the eldest, is the friendliest. There is also Floris, the most beautiful, and Maris, the most learned. Ellyn, I'm afraid, is too young.” You rattle, counting with your fingers.

Borros coughs. He eyes Aemond warily, as if expecting him to suddenly announce he doesn't want you anymore. The man loves you, but he is not blind to your faults. Something about his attitude makes Aemond think that this is not the first time you try to spook a suitor.

“I see.” Aemond answers, coolly. “I do not want a Storm. I want a Doe.”

You glare even more. You go sit on your little throne. By the Sevens, you truly are disagreeable. Spoiled, pampered, and with a temper unlike he had ever seen. A match made in the Seven Hells.

Your father gave Aemond a curt tilt of the head. Aemond sighed, and went to kneel by your side.

“I want to court you, if you will let me.” He grabbed your hand. Your skin was very soft, but your palm felt clammy and cold. Curiously, he dared slip his hand lower, checking your pulse. The beat of your heart was not steady, but rushed, and it filled him with a sense of achievement. You were terrified. Smiling against your skin, Aemond pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I did not lie when I said I found beauty in your mind and words.”

It was no lie. You were beautiful in the way young maidens were, sweet and untainted. But you had a mind as sharp as any man. It was a combination Aemond would have admired greatly, were it not for the fact you were a terrible, spoiled brat.

“A war is about to break out. I don't see where you would find the time.”

“If your father allows it, I would take you with me.” Aemond stepped slightly closer. Perhaps, he could entice you. “Would you enjoy riding a dragon?”

“Ah, so you can abandon me in some forgotten wing of the Red Keep and have me away from my family?” It comes out bratty, and scared. A little girl who fears being alone.

Borros tenses at the tone. Almost as if acting on pure instinct, he reaches towards you. His hand goes to grab at your arm, making sure you are still there. Aemond will have to tread carefully, else he missteps and loses all the progress he has made with the man.

“You would have a seat at Aegon's council.” Aemond takes your hands in his. He is on his wits end on what he could offer you. Never before has he met a woman so unimpressed by anything he has to give. In your tiny, sheltered world, everything is perfect already.

“Gods know he needs it.” Borros muttered, under his breath. Aemond ignores him, choosing to squeeze your hands instead.

“I would listen to you.” He pleads, but you, terror of a girl, are ignoring him. Your eyes are focused elsewhere, no longer in his. A guard is hurrying forward, and Aemond can tell the wheels on your head start to turn.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon!”

Aemond, kneeling next to you, straightens. You curl your hand around his.

“Don't!”

“My Lady…” Aemond fights your grip, trying to detangle himself from you. Your hand goes to his nape. You squeeze, as if directing a dog.

“You said you would listen to me.” Your grip is firm. “Prove it.”

Aemond is seething with rage, with the urge to chase and tear Lucerys apart. But you do not budge. Your hand turns into a chain around his nape, a collar for a dog. You force him to remain kneeling at your feet as your father dispatches Lucerys.

Humiliation bubbles up at his throat, choking him. Not even the Pink Dread incident had come close to this feeling. Utter, profound, embarrassment. He can feel his nephew's eyes lingering on you, in the display of affection that seems so casual. A suitor kneeling for his lady, resting his head on her lap. It could be affectionate, were it not for the fact that it’s you.

Aemond is not hiding his face in your lap to feel you pet him, no matter if you behave like he is. Instead, you are forcefully keeping him in place, and he rather look the lovesick fool than the weakling who can’t fight a woman’s grip.

You pet his hair. You smile. He is powerless to stop it. It is then Aemond realizes that you are more dangerous than he had thought. You were so used to bending men to your will, he had not noticed that you had done the same to him.

Not any longer. He would make you pay. He vowed it.

“When shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”

You liked your life. Your sisters were sweet, if a bit distant. Your father was caring, to the point of actually listening to your opinion. The library was full of books, and you had warm furs and pretty dresses. Life was good. Why would you choose to leave this behind? Storm’s End was your safe haven, the place where you could be yourself. You wouldn’t trade it to go live at the Red Keep with a bunch of incestuous deviants whose reign was under question. You refused.

The thought of going away and having to play the dutiful wife to Prince Aemond made your stomach turn. You were not stupid. You knew the amount of freedom you had here was unusual. There, your voice would be silenced. Nothing you said would be of consequence as it was here. Even if they listened to women, they wouldn’t listen to a stranger. If you were King Aegon, you would rather have your mother’s council over the one from a strange goodsister.

Making sure the door to your rooms was locked, you threw yourself on the bed and screamed from rage, muffling the sound in your pillow. You were frustrated beyond belief. Anything you had tried, Prince Aemond had countered. And your father! Oh, your father had given you away so easily, as if you were no more than cattle. Did he truly believe that you would be treated as promised?

How could your father be so blind? He had not felt Prince Aemond tremble from rage, when he heard the voice of his nephew. The one who had taken his eye. He had not seen his expression sour as you interrupted him and proved yourself to be smarter than he was.

You stood up and looked around. You kicked your bed, and quickly regretted it. Your shoes offered no protection against the impact, and you swore.

“Seven Hells!” And you looked around, embarrassed from your outburst. But there was no one around to witness it, and that fact enraged you even more. You wanted to make your annoyance known.

Your rooms were empty, not a single maid in sight. They were probably tending to your sisters. There was to be a feast in honor of the Prince, but you had no plans to attend. Hence, you had called for no attendants.

You started to pace. Aemond Targaryen would regret taking you from your home. You vowed it. Despite knowing you were falling victim to childish pettiness and letting it cloud your senses, you couldn’t help it. You were angry. Angry. Angry. You wanted to claw his remaining eye out, pull on his hair, elbow him as hard as you could.

Women had everything to lose when it came to marriage. It was their destiny. They lost their connection to their house and were sent to another. They changed hands like property. And the men, the owners, had everything to win. Trading a daughter off like one would do to a rook before starting a game of Cyvasse, they gained an alliance. And receiving a woman, they gained a dowry and vessel for their children.

You knew the day would come where you would be plucked from your home, but you had foolishly hoped that being one of the many Baratheon daughters spared you from that fate. There were so many of you, your father could not hope to marry you all. You wanted to be more than just a way for a man to gain heirs.

But instead, you were going to be carried off towards a place far from your home, where you would not get to be a person fully. You doubted Prince Aemond would give you the same leniency your father gave you, or that he would listen to your opinions. No matter what he said, he was still a man. And not any man, but one you had humiliated.

Men did not often like realizing you were smarter or bolder than them. Those characteristics had served you well to keep marriage away during the years, but it seemed like this time they had failed you. Not only they had made Prince Aemond interested in you, they had also angered him. After seeing the look on his face when his nephew had entered the hall, you could tell he was not one to forgive and forget.

You could have handled it better. By the Seven, you were smarter than him. Why had you been so hostile? If only you had thought to manipulate him back then. How could you have been so stupid? You grabbed a vase and threw it to the floor with all your strength. It shattered into tiny pieces with a loud noise. It didn’t make you feel any better.

You sobbed. A look at the broken pieces and you thought of your maids, having to pick it up. The thought made more tears come to your eyes. There was a warm, wet feeling clogging up your throat. You were not such a bad person as to make them clean a mess you had made purposefully, so you kneeled and started picking up the pieces.

The commotion clearly attracted someone’s attention because there was a knock on your door. You ignored it, and continued obsessively picking up the pieces. You placed them all on top of a cloth, arranging them neatly. The ceramic was sharp, and the borders made your hands sting, but none drew blood.

The knocking became louder.

“No!” You shouted, denying whoever it was. Probably one of your sisters, checking up on you. Or a maid. Or guard. Who knew. You just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your misery.

“My lady, the Prince is requesting….” Of course, they weren’t checking on you. You did no longer matter. Now, you were little more than cattle, mattering only in regard to your owner. This what not the life you had envisioned, not at all.

“And I said no.” Why should what Prince Aemond wanted matter more than what you wanted? You wanted to be left alone. Be able to come to terms with what was going to happen and think of a plan. What was your next move? You had no time to think of it. Already he was imposing his presence.

The servant did not answer. You thought you were finally going to be left alone, but the respite was brief.

“Sister.” Floris’s voice echoed in your rooms. She had a loud, commanding tone, similar to your own. She had gone ahead and opened your door. “You should not behave like this.”

“I do not care.” You sat down on your bed, arms crossed over your chest. Despite knowing you were in the wrong, you didn’t need her to rub your mistakes in your face.

“You should.” Floris took a dress out of one of your trunks. It was one of your yellow gowns, made with intricate gold stitching. She laid it down on your bed, smoothing the skirts down, and gave a pleased sigh. “It is like a fairy tale. You get to be a princess.”

“I do not want to be a Princess.” You looked at the dress and scooted towards the edge of your mattress, trying to avoid it. Floris spanked your thigh, hard enough to make you yelp. “It is the truth! I don’t…”

“Then think of it this way.” She interrupted, annoyed. She, too, had the Baratheon temper. “That man that you are rejecting and humiliating is the man you will spend your life with. Who will have power over you. You are smart. You know this.”

“Father could…”

“Father is not going to change his mind.” Floris frowned. She smoothed your hair down. The hairpiece was making your head hurt, but just like your father, she only tucked it in more firmly. Your head felt heavy. Floris wiped your tears away, examining you with a critical eye. “You are a lucky girl. You have our father’s favor. Win the Prince’s.”

“I told him it should have been you.” The confession slipped from your lips, unprompted. It brought a smile to her face.

“Then you are a fool.” Floris smirked. You could tell she meant every word. Your sister had always had ambitions above her station, much like yours. But hers were more in line with what was expected of your sex. “Had it been me he had chosen, I would have not thought it twice. Fix your face. Before he decides to fix it with his fists.” She gave you one last look, before leaving you to your rapidly darkening thoughts.

You did not need the reminder of what Prince Aemond could do to you, once the two of you were married. You knew. But she had put it so coldly….

Floris was hungry. She had always been. Ever since you were children, she had always craved more. In a household full of girls, she had gotten used to fighting for her due. And not only that. Floris always managed to thrive. Were it her in your shoes, you had no doubts she would have Prince Aemond wrapped around her finger and a plot to get him either power or riches so she could keep a lush lifestyle. Her advice was blunt, but well-intentioned. This was an opportunity, and you should treat it as such.

You got up. You washed your face. By then, it was very late. The storm continued hitting the castle with the same vigor. There were hardly any servants in the halls. You went to sit at one of the windows, watching the rain fall.

Despite the late hour, something told you he would come to you. Sitting on the windowsill, you could taste the tang of metal against your tongue each time you breathed in. The night felt electric. You knew it was just what storms were like, but something about this one felt foreboding.

Watching the water made you feel calmer, and more focused. As the droplets tumbled down the sides of the castle, you reflected. But no rationalization helped you vanish the thought that this night was significant. Destiny was changing right under your eyes, and you could do little but watch it unfold.

“Here you are.” He spoke, after an eternity. You turned your body towards him, but made no move to get up. Somehow, watching him loom over you felt wrong. Like he shouldn’t be.

“Here I am.” You replied, before softening your voice. “I was waiting for you.”

Instead of softening himself, Prince Aemond scowled.

“You are the most impudent woman I have ever met. Haven’t you learned that you should address your betters properly?”

His comment grates on your nerves. You want nothing more than to scream at him. But then, you remind yourself of what this is. An opportunity.

“I apologize, betrothed.” You say, very gracefully. “Do you wish to sit with me?” And you add a good bat of your lashes for good measure. It usually works on your father, so why not on him?

The Prince frowns. He seems to take your much more subdued behavior as sarcastic.

“You are absolutely impudent. When we marry…”

You interrupt him before he can say more.

“You will hit me?” You raise your eyebrows. “Is that what you mean to say?”

He reaches for you. You flinch back, before remembering you are right at the windowsill. The window is high enough that the fall would kill you. You scream, panic taking hold. You reach for him, for the sides of the castle, for anything that could save you from certain death. Aemond grapples at you, desperately grabbing your shoulders and hair in a death grip.

“I have a right to discipline you. And I will, if you do not mind your tongue.” He snaps, pulling you against him. He is careful to move both of you away from the window. Your heart beats harshly in your chest. If he had lost his footing, if he had been a second slower… You could be dead. You could be dead.

“Discipline. Discipline.” You repeat to yourself, in a daze. “As if I were a child.”

“You behave like one. I will treat you like one.” His expression is very telling. Your face heats up. You swallow. Dead. He could have killed you. You are not too sure how you feel about your confrontation with mortality.

“And if I apologize?”

“I am not sure if I will believe a change of heart.”

And oh, how it stings. He wants to humiliate you. It makes your anger flare up again. You clench your fists and stare at the rain. You count to ten in your head, watching the droplets fall outside.

“Of course, my Prince.”

"Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,

Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf

Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,"

The storm passed, and so did your tantrum. You had become very quiet and subservient. The perfect wife. It unnerved Aemond.

Had the near-death experience rattled you as much as it had him? Aemond kept thinking it had been his fault. He shouldn’t have reached for you in such a manner, yet at the same time, the fear in your eyes had filled him with vindication. Your heart had beaten as fast as the one of a frightened bird. He had been able to feel it through your pulse points, jumping under his hands.

He had had your life in his hands. And it had felt great. That was what power was all about, Aemond thought. And oh, how low you had been brought by it. Gone was your uppity attitude, gone your terrible manners. You had clung to him like a frightened child, pale and anxious. Something roared inside him, Aemond had finally felt like the conqueror his ancestors were. A true dragon.

You had not made mention of the incident to anyone else. Of that, he was sure. His soon-to-be goodfather would have not allowed the wedding to go through. And your sisters would be much more afraid of him. Instead, Aemond had Borros singing his praises and little girls chasing after him, begging to play or older ones trying to curry favor.

Despite having been humbled quite throughoutly by fate, you were not one to sit idle. You were a spitfire, and so, Aemond could not help but believe he was being lulled into a sense of safety before you would strike. But what were you planning?

Your blank looks and serene smiles gave nothing away. No matter how cutting his remarks, or insulting his words, you did nothing but stare. At most, you would fake a laugh. Suddenly, it was as if you had become as empty-headed as your sisters. It drove him up the walls. He would have given anything to know exactly what you were thinking.

Your composure finally broke on the day the two of you were set to depart. You were to travel with Aemond to the capital, which meant flying on Vhagar. A look at his dragon, and your face crumbled. Perhaps, you remembered the last time the two of you had been alone and in the heights. Perhaps, you feared the oldest dragon alive.

“Girl, here.” Lord Borros ordered, passing your belongings to a servant. You stared sullenly. Your father gave you a look, becoming you over.

“I do not want to go.” You stomped your foot. Your antler headpiece shook with the motion. It made your face scrunch up even more. Were you…? Oh, you were. It was priceless. No matter his constant harassing, not even once had you looked close to tears. Not even when he had crudely remarked how he was going to bend you in half and spank your pretty little arse for your defiance before taking you during the wedding night. Not that he was actually going to do that. Aemond just liked frightening you.

“Lord Baratheon…” Aemond warned. He was unsure of what or why he was doing it. He should be loving this. You were finally breaking under the pressure. But instead, he felt oddly empty. It was much better, much more stimulating, when you fought back. Now, it felt oddly like a kidnapping. As if he were taking some poor, delicate girl from her home against her will.

It was stupid. Marrying was the duty of every noblewoman, and you were not a girl. You were his age, for the Seven’s sake! But you looked so hurt, so defenseless… It was not at all like he had envisioned.

What was different from that meeting in the tower than from today? Was it, perhaps, that in certain lights you looked disturbingly like his mother? You had the dark Baratheon hair, and when he watched you from behind, you looked just as powerless.

A Prince was not supposed to hurt women. It was what made him superior to Aegon. The maids in the corridors did not run from his mere sight, nor did the noblewomen avoid sitting by him at feasts. He was thought of as dutiful, not a deviant.

But frightening you had felt delicious. There had been something so primal in your fear, something that had made him feel sure of himself for the first time in years. Aemond had been in control then. He knew his mother and grandsire would be disappointed in him, but he couldn’t help it. He was as twisted as any other Targaryen. Must be the Valyrian blood.

Aemond had been raised under the faith of the Seven, and so, still had some empathy and principles. If he had not been as pious as he was, he would have been as lost as his brother after his first taste of real power. Aemond wasn’t, and so, still felt capable of being sorry for the woman he had so admired at the beginning. Despite all your disagreeable qualities, you were sharper than anyone else he had ever met.

“Girl, you are going.” Borros looked like he was starting to get angered by you. Privately, Aemond felt a bit annoyed at his hypocrisy. He said he was not escorting you to the capital because he had business to oversee as the Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond could tell that wasn’t the real reason. He would rather not give you away because it would mean saying goodbye to you forever. You would no longer be his, but Aemond’s.

His ire, the only way Borros had of showcasing his feelings, had not spared anyone lately. Your Lady Mother had been called a dumb whore more times that Aemond could count, for not preparing you better. Your poor sister, Casandra, had been belittled by him after daring to ask about the fate of the dresses you wouldn’t take with you.

“If a daughter of mine is becoming a Princess, you can bet she will take all the dresses she needs, and I will not have you behaving like a vulture.” He had screamed, red with rage.

Floris had wisely hidden herself in her rooms. You, instead, had screamed right back that he was fuzzing too much and that he was overbearing. Which Borros was. The man fuzzed over you, making sure you had the best of everything to take with you, to the point of overwhelming. The row had been spectacular, and it had ended with you giving him the silent treatment, as he muttered fondly about his proud little doe.

It made Aemond think of his father. After his death, he had only felt panic and a sense of urgency. Never grief. But this man, so rough, so ignorant compared to his own father, would be wept thoroughly. He could already tell.

Right now, of course, similar as you were, neither of you got it. Instead, you gave your father a look of absolute betrayal and ran off, trying to hide your sadness at his scolding tone.

“Ah, that one. She is not used to harshness.” Borros shook his head, as if whatever you were going through was a product of female hysterics and not the fact that you were grieving the loss of your home and family.

“Or being told no.” Because you wouldn’t be like this if Borros hadn’t raised you like this. Most noblewomen resigned to their fate early on, they were not raised with delusions. Borros had a point, your mother should have prepared you better. He should have, too.

“I am afraid I might have done her more harm than good. I have always had a soft spot for her. Out of her sisters, she is the most like me.” Borros voiced exactly what Aemond was thinking. His reasoning, though, made him have to try hard not to cringe. While not exactly the prettiest woman on Westeros, you were tempting enough. You had nice manners, when you cared to use them, and a sharp intelligence that spoke of a deep cultivation of the proper arts for a lady.

“She has my temper, I mean.” Borros chuckled, once again guessing his thoughts. In looks, you took after whatever ancestors were blessed without a warrior’s physique. “And she is much more gifted with her letters.”

“Oh.” Aemond said, quite dumbly. He had underestimated Lord Baratheon, just as he had underestimated you. The great beast of a man wasn’t just a beast, but rather gifted with talents of his own. While he may not have been able to read great treatises of philosophy and history, he could read intentions and thoughts just from a man’s face.

“A good thing, in a man. But in a woman? She is not used to not being heard, she is loud and takes a lot of space. The world is not kind, not kind at all, to women like that.” Lord Baratheon spoke, again showcasing a deep insight Aemond would not have thought him capable of.

His mind wandered. Rhaenyra. Loud, brash, bold. Charming when she wanted to. Yes, the world wasn’t ind to women like the two of you. After all, weren’t him and Aegon trying to usurp the throne right from under her? Just because they didn’t agree with how she had chosen to live?

It had been the wrong choice, sure. But it had been the path Rhaenyra had picked for herself, just as you had planned to do before Aemond swept in. Lost to perversion and sin, perhaps producing your own bastards. No. Your course needed to be corrected, and thank the gods Aemond was here for it. You needed to learn your place. He would listen to you, but you would always follow his lead. That was the only way to keep you on the right path.

“No, it is not.” He agreed, still thinking of how he could help you. Stubborn little doe that you were, Aemond knew it wasn’t going to be easy. And worst thing? You were brave. Many women would have cowered at the sight of him, or at the threats he had thrown your way. Not you. Not even once, beyond that time in the tower, you had looked afraid.

“You have to promise to not try to break her.” Borros warned, clapping a hand against Aemond’s shoulder. The man threw all his weight behind the gesture. It was considerable, and Aemond was once again remembered of why they wanted the Baratheon alliance so badly. Borros Baratheon was a brute, yes, but a great warrior. Deadly with the Warhammer.

His hand squeezed Aemond’s shoulder so hard, he thought he might bruise. A threat, thinly veiled. Aemond prided himself on the fact that he did not flinch under it.

“Many men would. It is the easiest approach.” Because it was. What could you do with a woman who was not afraid, and who was used to doing as she pleased? The same thing his Uncle had done to Rhaenyra. You broke her. In whatever way it was necessary. Either through pleasure or through pain.

It was known that women were more carnal creatures. They lacked the impulse control men had. They were more prone to sinning, and they were more often controlled through their basal needs. That was why they had no business on the battlefield or in the throne. And why the thought of having a home and nurturing children spoke to them. They were just all instinct and emotion, with an overall lack of rationality.

“But you are not just any man, are you? You are a Targaryen. Your house needs strong women.” Borros argued. Aemond cringed at the word. He was right, despite the unfortunate wording. You were not just any woman. You had shown yourself capable of more rationality. Perhaps Aemond had to nurture that in you and get rid of your most instinctual behaviors. Teach you by example, until you understood the role you had to play.

“Then what? She will not come willingly, that much is clear.” But how? How? That he now knew what he had to do did not mean he knew how to get there. It could take years, and right now, you had to leave before sundown.

“Her anger will pass. And a bit of advice. She works better when it is the carrot and not the stick.” And it made sense, it showed rational behavior. You didn’t balk at the first sign of pain, but you were greatly tempted when faced with rewards. Much like him, you endured.

You had been raised a brat, yes. But an intelligent one.

“Come, you spirits

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood.

Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse,

That no compunctious visitings of nature

Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between

Th’ effect and it."

The view from atop Vhagar is spectacular, but you can’t seem to enjoy it. It is a unique opportunity. Aside from those with valyrian blood, no one gets to just ride a dragon. Much less, the most ancient one. But Vhagar is too terrifying for you to sit at ease on her, and you keep thinking of that night in the tower.

You don’t want to die. A fall from here would mean plummeting to your death. You are overly conscious of your every move. You don’t want to die this far from your home. Lately, it feels as if death lingers around you. There is danger everywhere. On top of the stairs, near the training grounds, on top of Vhagar.

Aemond seems to be having the same thoughts because he grips you so tightly to him that it nearly hurts. Every time you breathe, his hands move with your stomach. He is holding you so close it’s making you feel awkward, but you are too afraid of falling to say something.

Storm’s End and the Stormlands are becoming smaller in the distance. Without meaning to, you start to tear up. You no longer can see the banners from the top of the towers, and you can’t remember what they looked like. It’s such a silly thing, being unable to figure out if it is the Baratheon sigil or just a plain yellow one, but it makes a pang of sadness take hold of your heart.

You suddenly wish you had spent your last days memorizing your childhood home and spending time with your family instead of trying to vex Aemond. He is now all you have. The only person outside yourself who will remember your home once in the capital. You bet Aemond never paid as much attention to the details as you did, but surely, he must remember something.

Perhaps that thought is what prompts you to curl your hands around his wrists, seeking comfort. He stiffens, and moves his hands higher up your bodice. You let him go without a word.

“What are you doing?” Aemond whispers against your ear. The wind makes it hard for you to hear him otherwise.

“I am scared.” You answer, trying to project your voice over the wind. He gives a put upon sigh, but reaches for your hands. When his hands envelope yours, you nearly jerk in surprise. Aemond is warm, and touches you very gently. Much more than he had the night of your betrothal. You had not expected him to conform to your unspoken offers of a truce, thinking him as proud as you.

“You should not be. Vhagar is a well-experienced flier.” He soothes, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. You lean back against him, and Aemond seems to welcome the gesture. His breath changes slightly, but you can feel him relaxing against your back.

“It’s not about Vhagar.” You sniffle slightly. “I…” But how to explain? How to explain all of this to a man? This feeling of loss, of not belonging. Of being taken, yet at the same time doing your duty. He would never understand it.

“Why are you scared? Aren’t you so proud, so self-sufficient?” It seems Aemond hasn’t forgotten the slights you committed against him. While he might be willing to indulge you when it comes to fear of Vhagar or heights, he seems annoyed by anything else. You wish he wasn’t. Being comforted by him had felt really nice. For a second, you had actually thought everything was going to be alright.

“Don’t be like that.” You plead, voice breaking slightly. You don’t want to sob, but you feel on the edge of it. Aemond’s hands squeeze yours. He sounds tired when he next speaks.

“You have not apologized.”

“Nor have you.” You say, taking a deep breath. You are trying to keep your tone even, but anger leaks from your next words like poison from a wound. “I admit my tone was not the best. But you treated me like cattle. Or worse, a pawn.”

“Pawn?” He asks, the words seeming to give him pause. You jerk one of your hands from his grip, angrily wiping away your tears.

“On your brother’s game. Do not insult my intelligence, Prince Aemond.”

“We are all pawns. You, me, Aegon.” His tone is sharp. As if you should know this already. Are all men such fools, you wonder? Why would anyone be a pawn on someone else's game when they can play King on their own?

Cyvasse has always been a pastime of yours. You learned how to play it as a child, on your father’s knee. As he planned his ambushes against the dornish and commanded you to watch closely, watch better. There was always an out. Prince Aemond could not see it now, but you could.

“I do not want to be a pawn.” You whisper to him. A test. A prod, to see if he is willing to change the game.

“Neither do I.” He answers, grimly. Prince Aemond kisses your temple, soft and sweet. And the idea grows in your mind. Perhaps, this is not a Cyvasse board but a draughts’ one. They are easily mistaken, after all. Both checkered. But in draughts, even the most simple of the pieces can dominate the board.

And there it is. The opportunity you have been looking for.

“Is this a dagger which I see before me

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.”

The day of your wedding ceremony, a storm rages around the Red Keep. You and Aemond exchange your vows inside the royal Sept, with an air of grim determination. None of your family is in attendance. His, instead, fills the seats of the Sept.

His grandfather proudly boasts of the alliance to anyone who is willing to listen. It is no secret to anyone that the dismissal of Prince Lucerys from Storm’s End has made Rhaenyra’s cause take a blow.

What did Borros Baratheon see, that convinced him to betroth one of his daughters to Aemond? The nobles ask themselves. Surely, if even a renowned fool like him could see something wrong with Prince Lucerys, it must be obvious for the whole realm to see. The question mark on the legitimacy of those Velaryons changes into an exclamation sign. His poor, Strong nephews, doomed not to inherit anything at all.

“Well done, Aemond.” His grandfather had said to him, pulling him aside after Aemond had returned with you and the promise of Borros Baratheon himself leading his men into battle. “The girl, she reminds me of your grandmother. Bright, but well-behaved. I am glad you found enjoyment in your duty.”

And surprisingly, Aemond had. He had warmed up to you on the ride home. You were sweet when you wanted to be, and he had finally managed to find some common ground with you, which made you more interesting.

You still had impulses. But when asked to cooperate and behave in front of his family, you had proven surprisingly agreeable.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to cause your Lady Mother a fright. I understand she is heavily burdened.” Your last comment had been said with a puzzling smile on your lips, and Aemond had found himself losing sleep over it. What did you mean by that? Were you making a subtle dig at him? Or was it at his siblings? Or perhaps, simply commenting on the near civil war about to break out?

The memory follows him all the way to the hand fasting and the wedding feast. The storm outside does not subside, perhaps a goodbye to the doe that is now becoming a dragon. You tear up during the hand fasting, and even manage to look the hopeful bride. If Aemond had not been betrothed to you, he would have thought you loved the idea of marriage. That you loved him.

You do not. It does not bother him. Both of you have agreed that love will come with time. For now, you are both trying. You are much better at it than him, less cold and guarded.

“I want us to be friends, at least. Care for each other.” You had said, holding his face in your hands as you shared your first dance as a married couple. Aemond had not been expecting the gentle touch from you, focused on not missing a step. He had startled. But you had guided him to look you right in the eyes, expression sincere. “Or I shall wilt so far from home, husband. We have been doing better.”

“We have. And I care.” He had brushed your hair away from your face, sensing your melancholy. It must have been hard on you, Aemond mused, getting married without any of your family present. You had been behaving spectacularly, but you were still very sensitive. Your father had warned him about it for a reason, after all.

“I do too.” You had reassured him, eyes glassy, before hugging him. Aemond had decided then that he would need to protect you from any harm. You were awfully fragile, nothing to do with the Storms you had as sisters. His doe. Dramatic, vain, but so sweet.

His new resolve faces its first test when the feast starts to die down. The bedding ceremony approaches, and your eyes, nervous, go from the increasingly drunk Aegon to Aemond and towards the empty seats left behind by his mother and grandsire.

Aemond only needs to follow your gaze a few times to understand what you are trying to convey. Gone are the only two possible moderating influences on his brother, his mother had retired when Helaena had become upset by the noise and his grandfather claimed being too old for such a celebration.

The crowd gets rowdier and rowdier as the end draws near. They are drunk and eager for a show, and know the best one is about to be provided by the two of you.

Aemond has already decided to endure this. While the thought of those hands all over his body it's not a pleasant one, he doubts the women would dare go any further. You, though. Your laugh is stilted and your eyes keep darting to the exit. Determined as you are to appear brave, you force your lips into tense smiles.

It’s not long after before someone calls for the bedding. All bravado, you get up on your own when the men, led by Aegon, approach you.

“Gods, you are a lucky bastard.” He says, as he starts to tug at the sleeves of your dress. Something tightens in Aemond's chest and he sees red. He had hoped that he had conveyed to his brother that he cared for you, but Aegon either didn’t care, or was stupid enough not to notice.

How could he? Even his grandsire had congratulated him for finding pleasure in duty, it was that evident. And Otto Hightower was not exactly the most perceptive of men when it came to emotions.

Aegon eagerly rips one sleeve out of the bodice, and you can't hide your flinch. Aemond sees it even among the crowd of women that are trying to divest him of his own clothes. Some lord's hands are greedily wrapped around your waist, squeezing your flesh. There is panic on your eyes. Brave, stubborn, little doe that you are, you don't say a word.

But even if Aegon had not noticed, how did he dare touch something that was his? The only thing to his name, and he dared envy it, try to take it away. Aemond had endured Aegon’s needs going first his whole life. Seven Hells, even marrying you meant catering to him and putting aside his own desires. But his brother was too selfish to even keep his hands to himself and not fondle his bride.

There is another ripping sound. The other sleeve of your dress, now gone. You struggle to keep the bodice up, a hand against your chest, but some lords are already jeering and tugging at the waist of your dress. You whimper, barely audible.

“Enough!” Aemond orders, pushing away the women and grabbing his gambeson from one of them. Enraged, he nearly throws the men off you. “Enough. No one touches her.”

“Brother, we were just having a bit of fun…” Aegon shouts, and Aemond grimaces. This close, he can smell the alcohol on his breath. What a poor excuse of a King he was, drunk and groping a woman who wasn’t his to touch.

You flock towards Aemond like a scared bird. He places his gambeson over your shoulders, trying to cover you in case the dress fails to stay up. You shrug it on, gratefulness shining in your eyes. It only serves to irk Aemond further. He wants to strangle Aegon and his stupid friends.

“I do not care.” Aemond barks, and pushes Aegon off him. “Where is the Septon? Send him in, now.”

“You should not take that tone with me.” Aegon warns, puffing up his chest and advancing again towards you. You flinch, huddling impossibly close to Aemond’s side.

“I do not care! What do you think this is? First night?” Aemond snaps, right back. The confused crowd stands back, starting to notice something is wrong. “Did you ever paid attention to your history lessons or were you drunk then, too? It is abolished!”

“I…I…I” Aegon splutters.

Aemond huffs. He grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, to the delight of the crowd. Many men cheer and hoot, but he makes sure to keep their hands away from you.

“I laid their daggers ready;

He could not miss ‘em.”

Your hands still shake when he sets you down. For a moment, you had thought you were being carried off to be bedded, and all the nasty promises Aemond had made you before your truce had come to mind. He had a right to it — now. Your father was not coming to save you.

Panic had threatened to drown you. But then, once the two of you were out of sight from the crowd, Aemond squeezed one of your hands and placed you down on the corridor for you to make your way there on foot.

“Thank you.” You say to him, once in his chambers. Yours, now. The thought brings tears to your eyes, and you are not sure why. You knew you were going to marry him, and he was not as bad as he seemed. Why were you crying?

The day had been taxing. Emotionally and physically. Sadness and excitement had all mixed into one, and the wedding preparations had not allowed you a second to rest. You had been on your best game, bringing Aemond over to your side, and enchanting the court. Laying the groundwork for when you decided to move your own piece.

You had not planned for the reality of Aegon Targaryen, though. Being almost assaulted on your wedding feast was not what how you envisioned meeting the King. It only steeled your resolve. You had to get rid of him.

But no matter how politically sharp you were, you were still a woman. The threat of assault and rape would forever hang over your head, no matter how high in the game you were. And it hurt. Because you could never win.

You sob. You had been doing everything right. How could this have happened to you?

Aemond approaches you from behind, loudly. He is almost always silent in his movements, a predator stalking prey, so you know he must be exaggerating for your benefit. One of his arms wraps around you, trying to comfort you. The touch is tentative, hesitant. When you do not pull away, Aemond hugs you fully from behind, pressing his forehead against your nape.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity. Until you were no longer shaking in his arms, until you had no tears left. Only then, Aemond pressed a soft kiss to the first knob of your spine. And to the second. And the third. He softly traces the places they would be under your skin, lavishing them with attention.

You don’t stop him. His touch is comforting and familiar. Aemond has saved you twice now. That night, when you were enemies in a tower. Tonight, when you were already his woman.

When he reaches your bodice, he doesn’t tear the broken garment apart. Instead, he unmakes every button with care. The dress slips from your form with a soft murmur. For a second, the reminder of Aegon, his friends, and what they had tried to do to you, makes you tense up.

Aemond doesn’t say a word. He just hugs you to him, cradling you in his arms. When you are calm again, he kisses your nape once more.

Your eyes dart towards the bed, in the middle of the room. Around it, some candles provide a low lighting. Aemond kisses your shoulder, and moves one of the straps of your shift aside.

You shudder. Your knees feel weak. It’s a new feeling, but one that fills you with warmth. Pooling in your stomach, towards your core. Making you slick between the legs.

His kisses move from your shoulders, down your arms and towards your wrists. Each kiss feels soft and warm. It makes you forget about King Aegon and his friends, and their dirty little hands all over you.

Aemond touches you softly enough to want to lose yourself in his touch. It is clear he has done this before, and that he cares. Your husband, your improbable ally. So you do. You lose yourself in him, in his body, in the kindness behind every touch. It is only as you come to be, laying with your head on his chest, that you think of it again.

You are satisfied and warm, laying under the covers. Aemond is by your side, eye closed. Softly, you run your nails down his chest, watching the skin and flesh give. His body is so different from your own, thin and elongated, but softly muscled from all his training. There are some scars on him, pink raised flesh standing out among the white.

“You are smarter than him.” You say, your voice low. You are speaking treason.

“Hm?” Aemond’s hand starts caressing your back. His eye remains closed.

“Your brother.” You reply, listening attentively to his heartbeat, You try not to tense under his ministrations, not give your move away.

“I was more dedicated to our studies.” Aemond’s heartbeat starts to feel faster. You feign calm, focusing on other things. It would not do to let your excitement show. You trace a more silvery scar on his side. You wonder how he got it. Training? Riding Vhagar?

“Your education was fit enough for a King.” You say, after a while. You are so close you can taste it. Shifting to lay on your stomach, you peer up at him from between your lashes.

“It is.” Not was. Aemond’s eye meets yours. Your look turns knowing. “It’s no use. He was born first.”

“The world is cruel. Princess Rhaenyra, too, was born first.” You say, boldly. What is it, to usurp a usurper?

Aemond smiles. Slow and cruel.

“He should not have touched you.”

His hand goes to rub at your shoulder. There is a mark there. His teeth, bruising and awful blue. What had possessed him to do such a thing, you did not know. Otherwise, your lovemaking has been soft and tender. Not at all what you had expected.

“With a brother like that, you have to learn to share.” You whisper, once again treason.

His grip on you tightens.

“The only man I intend to share you with is the one who will be my heir.”

It is only years later that you come to know the truth. Both of you are old and scarred by the many atrocities you have committed. The first, of course, the hand you had in the murder of the King.

The chronicles will tell, years after, that it had been a confusing incident. Someone had poisoned Aegon. Not you or Aemond, of course. A servant on Prince Daemon’s payroll, who had been tipped about what wine the King would drink. With him, goes each one of his sycophants. It starts a war. Aemond and you stand, silent watchers of it all, as both sides tear each other apart, conveniently sent to a diplomatic mission with Dorne that bears no fruits.

Is it more of a crime to be the hand that wields the sword, or the man who in the face of an atrocity just watches? His nephews die. All and each one of them, including Aegon’s children. Until both of you can march into King’s Landing, Baratheon forces at your back, and take the Iron Throne.

“Do you remember our wedding night?” Aemond asks, as you watch your grandchildren play on the foot of the Iron Throne. You sit on his lap, cradled comfortably. It has been worth it, you think. It has all been worth it.

“Of course I do.” You smile, so in love with him it hurts. Your sword and shield. Your King. The one that you chose to place on the throne.

“There was a mark on your shoulder.” Aemond rubs the spot where a scar has formed after all the times he had bitten you when you made love. “His fingers were all over it, and I thought, if I lack an eye, he will have to lack a hand.”

The next king wears an antler crown. History books will not remember you or know what you did. But both Aemond and you do, and as you share a secret, vicious smile, you know it. The most dangerous thing to walk the Red Keep was you all along.

[r7leee]

OKAY FINE YOU HORNY SLUTS

you get smut 😒😒 this is the last time i'm installing on this tho

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: part 2 to this fic, which is based off this ramble (idk why this is such a rabbit hole omfg)

warnings: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT bear with me 😭🙏🏻, hickeys, oral, overstimulation, i guess a little bit of cum play??, strap + strap sucking, aftercare (all r receiving)

word count: 1,757, should take about thirteen and a half minutes to read

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."

IT TOOK ONLY a matter of seconds for her to pounce on you. you'd only ever seen her like this a few times before. but every time it happened, you would try your best to ravish the feeling. because when billie was like this, you were getting treated right until you were ruined.

your back lay flush against the fluffy hotel pillows while your girlfriend grabbed your face and kissed you. rough. hard. almost with a force that knocked the wind out of you. oh ya, you were getting fucked.

she didn't stay near your face for long. but instead of reaching for your neck like she usually did, she instead reached for the top of your dress. since it was strapless, she was going to have a relatively easy time getting it off. "arms up."

you commanded to her words, putting your hands up as she pulled the shiny dress over your skin. what she found excited her even more. "no bra? oh, baby, you know what you're doing." the nickname. baby. it rolled off her tongue so well, so sultrly. it gave you goosebumps.

"and your nipples are hard?" accentuating her words, she wrapped her hands around your chest and rubbed the buds over her thumbs. not with any pressure, though. just so you could feel it there. "this is evidence, sweet girl. you found that hot and you know it."

suddenly, you felt a sharp pinch on your right nipple. it made you gasp. she just smirked and leaned down, quickly using her tongue to soothe the pain. you threw your head back as she started to rub your left nipple like previously.

after a while, when she was satisfied, she pulled away and switched nipples. it was like a game to her to see how much you could take. she, at some point, started to suck so hard you swore it would leave marks.

one she felt she had enough, she took her mouth off you. she stuck her tongue out, running a line down your cleavage. she went slowly, her tongue trailing down your body feeling like fire. her tongue quickly dipped in the trench of your belly button before reaching just above your clit.

right as she reached your pussy, she looked up at you. there were no words exchanged, but you could tell what she was asking you. if this was okay. that’s the thing you loved about your girlfriend. no matter how desperate she was, if you told her to stop, she would. but, as you nodded, her soft gaze got thrown away.

today wasn’t a teasing day. hell, barely even a prep day. almost immediately, she was on you like a prisoner eating their final meal.

billie left no mercy as she ate you out. her tongue took on different patterns, too spontaneous with her movement to care.

she seemed to do something new every few seconds. it transitioned from licking up and down your folds to sucking your clit to sliding her tongue down and into your entrance in such a way it made tears form in the corner of your eyes.

you whined and pulled her hair, making her chuckle into you. the action made you seem to fall even harder, the vibrations easing just the right ache.

billie was relentless. it was often she got engulfed in your pussy, not wanting to stop pleasing you until you were begging her not to. but this was different. it was feral the way she was licking up your arousal that was spilling onto her tongue. it was almost like she wanted to completely clean you out, not wanting a single part of you untouched.

once you’d finally announced you were close with a high pitched moan, she didn’t even seem as if she heard you. she just kept up, sucking your sensitive bud and rolling her tongue around it.

when you did cum, it was fuzzy. it felt like laying on a cloud. well, only for a bit. until you realized billie was nowhere near done with you, licking up her reward.

“ billie, bills! oh my god, bills, i came, i came!” your voice was high pitched as you squirmed, trying to get out of her iron clad grip on your thighs.

for whatever reason, which you didn’t expect, she released, making a little “pop!” as if she was just sucking on a lollipop. to her, it was candy either way.

she quickly wiped her mouth with her sleeve before taking her pointer finger and sticking it back inside. you jolted, but she quickly took it out before you could whine again.

it was jarring the way she licked your release off her finger. but it was hot. it made you feel warm all over again, wanting her to devour you again and again and again.

billie crawled back up to kiss you lips. you could taste yourself on her tongue, making you reel. she pulled away quickly, a string of saliva connecting you. “i’m gonna get the strap,” she mumbled frantically.

you nodded, not at all complaining. you laid on your back, eagerly waiting as your girlfriend hopped off the bed and toward her suitcase. of course she brought the strap to a different country. of course she did.

you watched with hungry eyes as she undid the buckle on her belt, shimming her pants down to harness the fake dick around her waist.

as she walked back to the bed, she stopped right at the foot of it. you tilted your head in confusion. “come here, mama, suck on it.”

you obeyed to her request, hopping off the bed and settling on your knees on the floor. you didn’t immediately take the whole thing in at once, instead just going for the tip.

you hollowed your cheeks as if billie could feel the thing (which she always swore she could.) “mhm, just like that, baby, just like that.” she gently pushed your head forward, seeing just how far you could take the indigo dildo.

once she’d decided you’d had enough, she commanded you off. immediately, you got on your back, easing into the pillows.

billie crawled on the bed to get into position. she cupped your face, giving you one more kiss, before grabbing the strap. she ran the tip of the dildo up and down your folds, collecting your slick. “you ready for it, ma?” she asked as she lined it up with your entrance.

“yes.” she didn’t need to be told twice. immediately, she sunk into your pussy, bottoming out. although you had a few different dildos that you two used, this one was the one you used the most. so, it was no surprise how your pussy immediately engulfed the silicone, almost like it fit perfectly.

you groaned and threw your head back as billie drew tight circles on your clit with her finger. “just tell me when i can move,” she spoke in a tone so soft it almost wasn’t like she didn’t just put 7 inches of silicone inside you.

after a while, you nodded.

billie didn’t need to be told twice.

her thrusts started off gentle and calm, moving her hips to only take an inch out and put it back into your waiting hole. the slow speed of these thrusts made it so you could feel everything: the gentle touch of billie’s thighs against yours, the dildo pressing so nicely on your walls.

you were content with this. but, billie wasn’t. at some point, it seemed she got bored, as she strung on of your legs over her shoulder and went faster.

the new angle made her be able to penetrate that spot all the way in the back that made you see stars. and with the speed and hardness she was going, the pleasure only multiplied.

“oh, fuck, billie, yaaa, right there,” you encouraged her. she only laughed and nodded in response.

it didn’t take long for the sound of skin slapping on skin to take over the room. well, if you could even hear that over your moans. billie was fucking you with a rawness she hadn’t shown in a while.

you swore you could feel the strap kissing your cervix with every thrust, making you unable to stop letting out sounds. little “uh, uh, uh, uh”s filled the room every time she thrust.

but, who could blame you? the strap was so deep you swore if you looked down, you could see it peeking through your stomach. but you couldn’t even lift your head. the pleasure was too good.

your tits bounced as billie pounded into you, causing her to reach down and take your nipples between her fingers. “oh, you like this?” she teased you. “ya, you like me fucking you like this? like you deserve? ya, i know, i know, it just feels so good…”

the feeling of your hard nipples being played with combined with the damage your girlfriend was doing to your pussy was starting to make you feel overwhelmed. like you were about to fall off the edge.

“billie, shit, i-i’m close,” you said out. “can i cum? please, can i cum, please please please…” that made her smile.

“you don’t gotta beg me, baby. just let go.”

and let go you did. you slapped a hand over your mouth as your back arched off the bed. white hot was all you could see as billie slowed down, letting you ride out your high.

once you were done and could feel the seepage dripping out of you, you took your hand off your mouth, heavily breathing.

billie leaned down to kiss your lips. she smiled into it before pulling away. “you doing okay?” she asked. you nodded. “i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

in a few seconds, the strap was out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. she quickly undid the harness and threw it somewhere across the room for her to wash later.

she pulled you into your arms and kissed your head, rubbing your back. “you did so good for me, sweet girl. thank you for letting me do that.”

you hid your face into her neck and spoke. “of course, bills.”

she grinned and kissed your forehead. “okay, you go pee, then i’ll run you a shower, ya?” she proposed. you nodded and went to crawl off the bed.

“hey!” she called out one more time. you turned your head back to look at her.

“i love you.” you beamed.

“i love you, too.”

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

DINAHHHH

Write a smut about Tom Taylor and my life is yours

🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Bathroom reverb

Tom Taylor x reader

smut 18+, mdni

warnings: public risk sex, bathroom sex, mirror play, oral (f receiving), rough sex from behind, possessive touch, dirty talk, dom!Tom, fingering, creampie (in condom), drug/alcohol-enhanced lust, praise kink, overstimulation, desperation kink, messy headspace, hand on sink position

————

Harry’s party was loud.

The kind of loud that vibrated up your legs and thumped behind your ribs. The house lights were off, just swirls of LED red and blue spinning around the living room like someone had cracked open a nightclub. There was glitter on everyone, skin glistening with sweat, Harry in the corner fully immersed in his DJ booth like the little EDM freak he was.

You and Tom? You hadn’t left each other’s side since you arrived.

“Okay, but why is he actually kind of good at this?” you whispered into Tom’s ear, clinging to his neck with one hand as you swayed together to the beat. The low hum of a house remix was shaking through your chest, the scent of weed and vodka clouding your brain.

Tom laughed against your shoulder, breath hot on your skin. “Because he spends all his free time playing with knobs and calling it ‘mixing.’”

You turned, drunk and giggly, kissing the corner of his mouth. His hands were low on your hips, fingers slipping under the hem of your little black skirt.

“You’re high,” he said.

You nodded, shameless. “So are you.”

He looked at you then, really looked. Eyes heavy-lidded and dark, jaw slack, lips parted just slightly. His pupils were blown wide, lashes thick, his blonde curls messy from dancing. He looked hungry.

“You need to take me somewhere,” you whispered.

He blinked. “Right now?”

You kissed him, slow and sticky, pressing your body flush to his. “Now.”

Tom took your hand without hesitation.

The hallway was dim and crowded. A couple was making out against the kitchen wall, someone was throwing up outside on the porch, and Harry had just transitioned into a disgusting remix of “Toxic.” But you didn’t care. You barely registered anything but Tom’s grip on your wrist and the urgency in his steps.

He pulled you into the hallway bathroom, slammed the door shut, and twisted the lock.

Before you could say a word, his hands were on your thighs, dragging your skirt up your hips like it offended him.

“Turn around,” he breathed, kissing your neck, then biting it. “Hands on the sink.”

You obeyed immediately, high and wet and dizzy.

The mirror was slightly fogged. Your reflection looked flushed and glowing, your lips kiss-swollen, eyes half-lidded. You locked eyes with yourself just as Tom dropped to his knees behind you and dragged your panties down your legs.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “You’re dripping.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

He didn’t waste time. His mouth was on you from behind, tongue working over your soaked folds while his hands squeezed the meat of your thighs, nails biting into your skin. You gasped, one hand gripping the porcelain edge of the sink, the other bracing against the mirror.

“Tom, shit, baby, please!”

He moaned into you, lapping like it was the only thing keeping him alive. You were already so high, the sensation felt electric, every nerve ending pulsing with light and pleasure. He teased your clit with his tongue, then sucked it between his lips, moaning when your hips bucked into his face.

“I can’t, I’m gonna fucking…”

He pulled back just as your thighs started to tremble.

“No,” he said, standing, his voice gravelly. “Not yet. Want you to cum on my cock.”

You didn’t even hear the condom wrapper. Just felt him push your thighs apart and line himself up, his thick tip rubbing through your folds, smearing you with slick. Then he gripped your hips and slammed into you in one deep, glorious thrust.

You both moaned. Loud.

He immediately began to fuck you hard, hips snapping into yours with a steady rhythm, your soaked walls taking every inch of him with ease. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the tiles, mixing with the thumping bass of Harry’s DJ set through the walls.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, gripping your hips so tightly you knew you’d have bruises.

Your eyes rolled back. You were so full, stretched perfectly, the angle just right with each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Tom’s fingers reached around your front, expertly circling your clit. “Cum for me, baby. Show me how good I fuck you.”

You cried out, shuddering against the sink as your orgasm hit, hard and blinding. You came around him like your body had no choice, back arching, vision spotting white as your moans echoed through the tiny bathroom.

Tom cursed low, then followed you over the edge, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, gasping against your shoulder.

For a long, breathless minute, the only sound was the echo of the party outside and your ragged breathing inside.

You laughed first. A lazy, high giggle.

Tom chuckled too, still inside you, forehead pressed to your back. “We just fucked in Harry’s bathroom while he was DJing fucking Britney Spears.”

You grinned at your reflection in the mirror. “You know he’s going to know.”

Tom smirked, pulling out and fixing your skirt. “Let him. Maybe it’ll inspire a new track.”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

The Hobie fandom has a lot of smut, and with a character so accepting on so many fronts, it means so much to me to see trans!readers being taken into consideration.

As a trans guy myself, I love seeking out ftm!smut. But often times, I often can't read them. Many times I'm left feeling unseen, reduced, or even feminized.

And I wanna talk about that a bit, if it's okay.

My take and feelings on FTM!smut - As a Trans Guy

Ngl as a trans guy myself I do feel a bit alienated by a lot of FTM!reader.

I'm gonna be honest - I feel like most ftm smut is written exactly as it would be a cis woman, just with the pronouns changed. Which is understandable, but not really how it works.

Cis women and trans men don't have sex the exact same, just because they're AFAB.

And I feel most smut writers haven't gone out of their way to research the sexual experiences of trans men and how we navigate the world.

Hobie smut is pretty vulgar, and I won't complaining! As a character, he has a high volume of smut, and probably the most diverse range, with Black!reader, ftm!readers, and male!readers being more common than most fandoms.

Black!Reader focuses on the unique experience of black people when in a relationship together. This unique experience is at the basis of black!reader.

But when we approach Ftm!reader - very often, our unique experience isn't reflected.

It's just assumed that because we are AFAB - there's no need to look deeper at the closer unique sexual experience trans men have - or to read up about it.

Most ftm!reader fic does not attempt to use affirming sexual language for trans men at all.

T-dicks - ie, natural clitoris enlargement you get after taking T - is a thing a lot of transitioning Trans men have.

But they're never called T-dicks in fanfiction. Only clits. It's very rare that a ftm!reader is described as having a dick - because so often the only dicks cis people recognize are natal dicks, and surgery-constructed ones.

Many cis writers may never even considered referring to a trans man's clitoris as a dick - pre or post T. They may see it as confusing to the reader, when it's not.

T-Dicks are dicks. Bottom growth didn't give you a full 3-4 inches, but you absolutely have growth and there are trans men that can penetrate with T-dicks - without surgery - if with the right partner.

The words pussy and cunt are used liberally in nearly all ftm!smut, and while many trans men are okay with these terms, I think a lot of cis writers ignore or do not know that often, terms like those can cause heavy dysphoria in a lot of ftm readers.

I don't think cis writers ever question if they might be making readers dysphoric - or showing them in a non-affirming way.

I feel like some writers believe that changing pronouns and calling the reader 'handsome' is really all it takes. Just write usual fem smut, change the pronouns - and done!

In reality, a large part of the ftm community feels uncomfortable with the word 'pussy' - and would much rather stuff like 'front hole'.

A poll on 'What do you call your downstairs?'

And I'm not saying that you can't call a trans man's genitals a pussy. And I'm not saying that a trans man calling his genitals a pussy is wrong.

I just feel like cis writers do not consider the dysphoria of their trans readers, when writing trans smut.

I feel like most cis writers don't actually seek out accounts of trans men and their sexuality.

I don't think they ever consider that these terms, talking about wetness and penetration (which many men on T can have problems with because of vaginal atrophy and dryness), breast, clits, cunts, pussy -

I don't think cis writers ever question 'Is this accessible for ftm readers that might have dysphoria? How can I make this accessible or easier for trans men who have bottom dysphoria?'

Or

'How can I make this more affirming of them as men?'

It's the assumption that, because we're all AFAB, because we have vaginas like cis women - then naturally we must all fuck the same regardless of gender, the only thing changing being the pronouns.

That's not true.

And also - Trans Men are never really written like gay men.

Trans men having sex with men is gay sex.

And even though most writers write trans men with male OCs - they hardly ever write their sex as if they are gay men.

99.9% of the time, it isn't written that way. Its always written as if it's 'straight sex'.

The experience of how gay men have sex is never really taken account into these fics, which makes me feel like a lot of writers don't see it as gay sex at all.

At most, the ftm reader may be described as a bottom - but never as an otter or twink or bear or cub or leather or anything.

They see it as AFAB sex.

Cause If I'm getting strictly candid - I feel like if a writer wrote mtf!smut and kept focusing on the girls 'hard throbbing cock and balls' - we'd all be like 'oh wow that's very intense centering on genitals that may alienate some trans women-'

But in ftm!smut focusing on 'wet tight juicy pussy and thriving clit' is standard. It's never really questioned.

And this is not to say 'oh trans women have it better they get better smut-' No. They really don't. I'm just bringing this up to highlight the fact that we should be making sure that trans!smut is accessible and affirming to the trans people they're about.

Seeing a fic in which a gay trans man prefers to use his asshole, like most gay men fuck, is VERY VERY rare.

I feel like most cis writers never consider the fact that gay trans men may want to perform sex in an affirming, clearly coded, masculine gay way.

It's always assumed we use our front hole, are okay with it being called a pussy, have no problems getting wet, or that we don't have dicks (T-dick is a dick).

And because of that - the lack of affirming language and the lack of affirming transmasc experiences makes it very hard for me as a FTM person to read smut about ftm!readers.

I feel like most of them don't actually take our comfort - or our experiences in mind.

I feel like most don't attempt to actually read accounts of trans guys having gay sex, and what that's often like.

If you're a writer who feels guilty of any of this - you're not a bad person or a bad writer. And I genuinely thank you for including us in your work - from the bottom of my heart.

But I want to highlight this -

Trans men having sex is not a 1:1 of cis women having sex. The same way trans women having sex is not a 1:1 of cis men having sex.

Or experiences are unique - and our dysphoria does affect our sex lives, and how we navigate them.

Please, do not let this put you off writing trans men. But please keep in mind that our experience is unique.

So often I read ftm!reader and feel reduced down to my pussy. Without breasts in the equation, so much ftm!smut focuses solely on the pussy.

If you write ftm!reader please please do not let this put you off, but here's some tips I can give as a trans guy

Please do slight research of ftm anatomy, read an article about gay trans men, or go on r/ftm (subreddit) and read some posts about trans men, read some nsfw posts where trans men tell hookup tales.

Advocate has an great article called '16 things I learned from having sex with Trans Men' - which details and dispels 16 myths about trans men in bed. It's written from the POV of gay men who have been with trans men in affirming ways.

This post is in no way meant to be an attack or subliminal at any one writer. If it was one writer, I wouldn't care.

But this is something I've experienced and seen across fandoms and across writers in this fandom too. I feel the urge to write this because searching for affirming ftm!fics - I often come away feeling even more dysphoric.

Not because of the word pussy or cunt or anything -

But because of the erasure of my experience, the idea that my gender doesn't influence my experience of sex - only my AFAB genitals do.

If you write ftm!smut, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.

But I feel like I had to say this.

If you read this far, thank you! This is one of my more personal venting posts but I'm also trying to raise a point and start a discussion. And you reading through this and giving me your time and understanding is already helpful enough, so thanks!

Here's Hobie.

Bye.

[ingravinoveritas]

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I have to say it and here seems to be a safe place, so here goes:

With the exception of Bildad and the final 15, Season 2 could have been an email.

Literally. Crowley walks into the bookshop looks at his phone, says to Aziraphale "Apparently Gabriel and Beelzebub ran off together."

Que the metatron and the entire meltdown from there, and the rest of season 2 is finding out wtf and the 90 minute thing is just domestic life at the south downs and smut.

But that's just me.

Hi Anon. Well, I'm glad that you feel my blog is a safe place to share your opinions--that truly does mean a lot to me. I'm not sure how unpopular your opinion is, though, as I've heard others express similar sentiments/dissatisfaction with the second season. (Also "Season 2 could have been an email" just flat-out made me laugh, so thank you for that...)

I think part of the problem with GO 2 is the difference that we see when thinking of GO season 1. Because even though we know who wrote the script, GO 1 is still the product of the book, and so much of that strong voice and world-building feels like it came from Terry Pratchett. There was a unity of vision and place, and the plot (however occasionally convoluted) made sense and advanced with each episode.

With GO 2, though, that unity and voice were noticeably missing. We know that season 2 was meant to be a "transitional" season, to bridge the gap between S1 and the sequel that Terry and NG had planned (that would then become S3). But multiple writers were brought in to write the "mini-sodes" in each episode of S2, and it created a shift in tone that left the season feeling wildly all over the place. These mini-sodes ended up feeling like little more than filler as the larger plot (which was arguably a lot less interesting) plodded on in the background, and the whole season suffered as a result.

The overall problem was that pacing issues meant that it took much too long for us to get essential information, and the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley was almost relegated to the back burner in favor of focusing on Beez/Gabriel. And that, perhaps, is the most egregious issue with S2--that NG had this incredible chemistry between Michael and David that had absolutely made S1 what it was, and all but wasted it with certain writing choices. In fact, much like S1, it was Michael and David who elevated what they were given far beyond what the writing might have allowed.

I am not trying to diminish whatever direction Douglas Mackinnon may have given them, of course, but so much of what we saw--1941 (which is still one of my favorite Ineffable Husbands eras), 1800s Scotland, and everything in the Bildad sequence--came so brilliantly to life because of Michael and David. And in spite of other plot lines and characters (in the case of 1941, the zombie Nazis) threatening to drag it down. So yes, the overall challenge with season 2 seemed to be information being delivered unevenly, over too long a period of time, with too many characters that did not prove consequential to the main story, and with too little payoff in the end.

As for the 90 minute movie, I think now we'll have to have a resolution to the situation with Metatron, which unfortunately will cut into the limited time that we now have. But I would also love to see a focus on domestic life/smut at South Downs, or at least something that takes the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley seriously--which is very much the main thing that is important to so many of us--and uses Michael and David's chemistry to its fullest effect.

Those are my thoughts on season 2, and in response to your ask. Again, I am sure you are not the only one who has felt this way, and hopefully folks will now feel more comfortable sharing their thoughts as well. Thanks for writing in! x

[meiluu]

Leon S. Kennedy NSFW Drabble

Plagas!Leon/ Reader(AFAB) *not edited*

cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI

He needed you like he needed air, you were precious- irreplaceable. You were the best thing that ever happened to him and you were the biggest motivator to come back home while he was on his mission in Spain. Death had its bony fingers wrapped tight around him and it was only after he ripped apart Saddler and all of his little minions with their own ‘holy body’ did he finally feel deaths grasp loosen. Leon felt a surge of satisfaction at how he was able to resist Saddlers tries at controlling him, it brought him absolute joy watching as his face twisted up in confusion and anger at how Leon was stronger than him. But none of that mattered, all that mattered was seeing you in what felt like an eternity had passed. Leon had gotten the chance to clean and change his clothes, holding his duffle in his left hand he saw your car pull up into the airport parking. His whole body buzzed in a mixture of excitement and anticipation to what was to come.

Your intoxicating smell filled the air around him, and your sweet whimpers of pleasure were nothing short of a symphony to his ears. God you were so beautiful like this. Covered in his marks along with his cum smearing the insides of your thighs. He had done a good job fucking you dumb, reduced to nothing but moaning mess. This was the perfect opportunity to change you. Leaning down while still keeping his pace of his cock bullying into your cunt, he lets his canines elongate. Finding the spot where your neck and shoulder meet he sinks his teeth in as he feels the walls of your cunt squeezing and quivering around him as you orgasm for the umpteenth time tonight. A shocked cry of pain mixing with pleasure falls from your lips as Leon pushes parts of his plaga into you. A moment passes before he’s satisfied with his work, pulling back he can already see the faint black veins spreading from where he bit you. His own veins darken in response to yours his body trying to call out to yours- even though the process has just begun. “So beautiful, my good girl.” Voice rough with lust, his hands begin to massage and comfort your body while his once burning kisses now turn to soft loving one’s gently worshipping your tired body. Hopefully your transition will be quick- he couldn’t wait to see all of the changes that the plaga will bring to you.

This is kind of a continuation/ alternate version of my other plagas!leon Drabble lol, i am obsessed with this concept. I may write another Drabble that’s actually a continuation of this one, but that is tbd

[olderthannetfic]

Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.

Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.

Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!

--

There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.

[howsit-tastehwah]

The Party We Never Had – Popular!Obsessive!Stalker!CollegeStudent!Taehyung x Popular!Rich!fem.reader

Summary: Taehyung, the rich, popular, and effortlessly charming senior, has always been the object of your best friend Chaeyoung's obsession. But when he starts paying attention to you instead, things get complicated. A breathtaking gold dress, an exclusive party, and an unexpected choice lead to a night of decisions that could change everything. Will you follow your heart, or will you lose something more important?

FINALE !! - Part 5

pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 - pt.4

WARNING(18+): Nonconsensual viteotaping, S.A., fingering(fem. receiving), oral sex(male receiving), choking, mentions of alcohol, manipulative(slightly) Taehyung.

AN: I did not want it to be this long but smut is not good if its not descriptive lol. Pulled out a lot of hairs writing this because I have never finished writing smut… 

Word count: 4.3k

Four days. Chaeyoung didn’t return. Maybe because she saw your text messages. Asking her if it was true was vague but her lack of response told you everything you needed to know. All along you thought she was the one person who supported you and was there for you. You were prepared to have her be by your side for the rest of your life, you didn’t see the future without her.

You stare at your ceiling and sigh. You didn’t go to your classes, either. Chaeyoung would never miss a class and running into her there would only make you go more insane. You look at the clock, then at Chaeyoung’s bed and lastly you stare at the golden dresses hanging outside of your closet.

Taehyung had seen the video. Still, you have no idea where to find it or what it’s titled. You always wondered why nobody seemed to approach you at college. Did the men feel guilt when they looked at you? Were girls embarrassed to be seen with you?

Your transition from highschool to college was completely normal the first few months until that incident when everybody shut you away and the few drinks at parties would become gallons and gallons of liquor. 

Maybe you were the crazy one who didn’t see the signs. There were 5 men that night but in reality the entire school watched it happen. Even Taehyung. 

You know where to find me in case you feel alone.

What took him so long to tell you? Has he been watching you from afar? You’re angry yet the embarrassment of it all overtakes you and your face flushes. All along you thought you were a ghost and it turns out people were watching you the entire time.

You needed to see the video.

You get up out of your bed and grab your keys and phone. You look the room once over and decide that when you came back to this darn room you’d throw all of her stuff out the window. You slam the door and make your way to your car.

When you arrive at the house, it is completely silent. It’s an extremely odd experience. Seeing the place with the most chaos looks so peaceful. You look the building up and down until you spot Taehyung sitting, his back facing the large window in a room on the second floor, it appears he’s speaking to someone but you can’t see who it is. 

You enter the building and walk up, right and left until you come across the red door in the direction you saw Taehyung in. When you knock one of his peers is already making his way out and he doesn’t look at you twice before walking away.

You peek your head in and Taehyung leans back in his chair, leaning his head back on the chair and sighing softly, “Who is it?”

You clear your throat and show your entire self, slowly closing the door and locking it. Taehyung slowly lifts his head and eyes you curiously but tries to seem as inviting as possible; that fake, curt smile playing on his lips.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Sarcasm.

“I wanted to ask you if you could show me the video.”

The room goes silent.

He doesn’t say anything and stares at you with his fingers caressing above his upper lip, his elbow on the armchair. The silence gets long and awkward, so you open your mouth to speak again, but he beats you to it, “I bought the tape and took it down.”

You process his words slowly and then the lack of context makes your brain race with dozens of different questions.

“What? When?”

“I bought it the morning after we last spoke. I gave her money to move out and study somewhere else so you can throw away all her stuff. Or keep it; it doesn’t matter.”

“But you have it?” You close the long distance between you and him. The room is big and almost empty except for the few plants and shelves filled with books.

“It’s all gone.” Taehyung stands from his chair and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He’s in loose, black trousers and an undone, white button-up curled at the sleeves. You attempt not to stare at his arms, adorned with a watch and the deep red knot bracelet with jewels complimenting every tone and vein of his forearms. His fingers are adorned with golden rings, each one meticulously chosen, no doubt. But it’s the thick band on his middle finger that demands attention. It hugs his finger with a significant weight, drawing your eyes like a magnet. There's something about how it contrasts against his skin—a quiet boldness that feels entirely his.

“Except for the orginal. I had a feeling you’d want to watch it before it’s all gone.” 

“Do you have it?” You whisper anxiously and Taehyung gives you a small nod, shooting a look to the door on the right.

“In my room.” His eyes are void as they don’t break eye contact, and you feel your heart pick up. You were finally going to see what occurred that night. Dozens of scenarios kept you up these past few days. You expected the worst, scared that being too mild with your imagination would only lead to more shock and hurt. Taehyung sees that you were here for this video alone: denying you of it was not his place.

You stare at him as he stands, takes a key out from his pockets, and begins approaching the door, but you don’t move from your spot. You were afraid to go in there. Would you hate yourself after watching the video? Would you feel disgusted? You tense your jaw and look around the room to clear your mind, rolling your eyes at yourself. Running a hand down your loose hair, you walk behind Taehyung as he holds the door open and then shuts it, locking it afterward.

His room is dark. He has a bed far too big to be king-sized and covered in dark red sheets. His duvet is neatly tucked, and there are only two pillows. You analyze the dark room. The building was made a few hundred years ago with a few modern touches.

He dims the lights of the room and searches around his closet cabinet until he finds a flash drive. He has a projector in front of his bed and he plugs in the USB. It turns on and you instinctively turn to the vast wall where the light has now begun to show a settings screen.

“Sit down here.” 

You turn to Taehyung who points to the edge of his bed and you nod before complying, scared and silent. You place your stuff on the floor and your eyes are glued to the wall as Taehyung fidgets with the adjustments of the screen brightness and sound.

“It’s ready,” he pauses and looks down at you, “Are you?”

You don’t respond but your eyes are glued to the wall and your knuckles are white as you clasp them in your lap. Taehyung stares at them before poking his inner cheek with his tongue and pressing on the one file in the USB. And it automatically begins to play.

Taehyung doesn’t watch it. He turns, walks to the back of the room and sits on his bed with his back pressed against his headboard and his arm over his eyes lazily. You turn to spare him a glance but get caught up admiring the lower part of his face that is visible. His lips are soft, parted as he releases small puffs of air. His skin glistens from the reflection of the projector’s light. He swallows and his Adam’s apple bob tantalizingly. You slowly turn back to face the wall, shaking off any feeling and thought so you can give the video your undivided attention.

You don’t blink. The projector is so bright that the light shines on your own face and it burns but you can’t rip your eyes away from the video. You frown as it begins and the first thing you hear is your laughter. 

The camera points at you directly and it takes some time to focus. You approach the camera and push it away.

“Stop it!” You giggle. You grab a can of beer that lingered on the floor and downed the entire thing. A few men sat on the couch, watching you and sipping on their drinks. You stare with wide eyes, feeling nostalgia bring goosebumps to your skin. A huge smile adorned your lips; you seemed so alive and fun.

You teased one of the men on the couch, but only his lap appeared in the video. He releases a deep chuckle and spreads his legs wider– an invitation. You twirled to show off your body. You wore a tiny jean skirt and a black tank top, a dark red bra peeking out of the shirt, and a gold chain sitting nicely on your cleavage. Your pupils followed every movement you made. You weren’t horrified just yet, but you felt like any moment, something that would tear you apart would occur. It was like watching a movie knowing every jumpscare yet not failing to flinch at every single one. You moved like a drunk woman, and the men encouraged your dancing through whistles and claps. You played with the straps of your tank top and let them fall on their own. 

“Take them off for me, yeah?” You bit your lower lip an you cringe at yourself, shaking your head. You hear Taehyung chuckle behind you and the sound sounds strangely familiar.

You approach the guy on the couch and the camera follows your moves. A small gasp leaves your lips when Taehyung comes into the camera and you climb into his lap. His hands are to the sides of the seat and he watches you amusingly. You don’t completely sit on his lap. Your knees are to the sides of his muscular thighs, hovering above him. You peer at the way Taehyung stares up at you with salacious eyes. Yeontan barks at his feet but it doesn’t break the moment between you two.

He cracks a chilling smile up at you and touches the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms, staring down at him challengingly as he pulls it up and when it goes over your face Taehyung sits up to take your mouth in his. You hear the exhale Taehyung releases when your lips touch, the room went eerily quiet as all eyes roam your body on his. His hands wrap around your back, feeling you up like you’d dissapear into thin air. You stare at his slender hands, succulent arms possesively feeling you up. Your face glows red as you watch that and wonder how something so erotic could have slipped your mind. The devil on your left shoulder wonders what it felt like. Does he remember?

All you see is his jaw moving in sync with yours, but your face is covered by your hair. It’s long and messy. Your jaw slacks as Taehyung’s fingers tangle around your locks and tug your head back slowly, exposing your throat to him. You pant as he runs his tongue and traces your crevices with his swollen lips. The veins on his arms become more prominent, and you feel the adrenaline from the video hit you like a truck. 

God… how many people watched this?

You start jumping to conclusions and look back at Taehyung but he’s still laying mindlessly on his headboard with his feet on the bed and his arm over his entire face, clearly attempting(poorly) to avoid the intimacy of the video.

You turn back to the videos when you moan so ravenously. Your face flushes red and you cover the lower half of your face with your hand. 

This is not what I was expecting at all...

Another guy comes up behind you and clasps his hands around your arms, lifting you off his lap. Taehyung’s hold is weak, he doesn’t pull you back, fucked out from a few kisses. 

You whine as the guy flings you over his shoulder but you don’t see what happens next because your eyes are on Taehyung who now makes eye contact with the camera and his face contorts in confusion and annoyance. He runs a hand down his face, chest heaving as he leans back on his couch. The camera zooms in on his lap where a painful bulge is evident even in the poor lighting of the house.

“Why are you recording?” He gets up and the camera moves away and follows the guy into a room filled with other people. Men are playing cards on a large bed and others are scrolling away, sipping beer.

The sound of a door shutting and locking clicks in the background and you’re pushed onto the bed. Your drunk laughter ceases as you whimper.

“Guys... that hurt..” You’re in a bra and your panties are being pulled at by the guys on the bed.

Hands roam your legs and breasts and you visibly shiver as a different emotion flashes through your eyes and then you spot the camera. Your eyes are hazy, clearly not conscious enough to understand what’s going on. Your body is sensitive and as the men play with your body, tears brim in your eyes. They catch the reflection of light and shine in the camera as you stare at the person holding it. You mouth something but it’s inaudible.

“Open the fucking door!” In the background.

“You’re a sexy piece of meat, ain’t you?” One guy slurs as he runs his fingers down the messy strands of hair covering your face and you slap his hand away. Your breathing picks up, you chest heaving up and down as you begin to think again and tug at the multiple hands on your body.

“Don’t touch me!” You gasp when two men grab at your legs to spread them apart and you begin to scream and punch.

“Stop! Help me!” You choke on loud screams and sobs. The door begins to pound and make loud noises. Many people begin to knock and the men begin to hurry. One inserts one finger inside you and you spit at him.

“That only turns me on more, baby.” He chuckles, and the door breaks open. The camera is knocked down and the video ends.

The room goes dark and silent.

“You saved me, didn’t you?”

You look over your shoulder and Taehyung finally has his arm out of his face. He’s still, staring at his room floor. His dark eyebrows are knit together, and his lashes flutter as he blinks and finally meets your eyes.

“I was scared you’d blame me for it all. That’s why I didn’t approach you until now.”

“Taehyung.”

“You hung around Chaeyoung and I knew she had twisted the story up somehow, except I didn’t know she had a thing for me. When you told me, everything clicked.” He slowly explains in a hushed tone and you get up from your spot on the bed and approach him.

He looks up at you like he did in the video except there’s worry in his eyes this time around. His eyes widen when you sit on the edge next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders to embrace him in a tight hug. His arms stay at his side, his whole body is rigid. You pull away with your arms still around him.

You look back and forth between both his eyes and break into a small laugh. 

“You’re insane for not telling me this earlier.” 

“Didn’t think you’d listen.” He whispers.

You stare down at his lips and then up at his eyes.

“I can’t believe I don’t remember that happening.” You hum and Taehyung’s right hand grips the side of your waist.

“Y/N,” He looks to the side and you admire the side of his face. You want to lean in and kiss him but you know your intentions aren’t pure. The video met some of your expectations, nothing shocking that you didn’t see coming occurred but it still leaves you heartbroken. 

You want revenge against Chaeyoung.

You grab Taehyung’s other hand and wrap it around yourself, under your sweater and Taehyung’s jaw clenches as his rough hand touches your soft skin. You see his thoughts and you don’t like what he’s thinking. He’s scared he’s gonna hurt you, except this time it’s different. You two are alone. 

“You were right, Taehyung,” You whisper against his ear and breathe down his jaw and to his throat, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. Your eyes watch Adam's apple bobbing up and down and you remember the way he looked in the video.

If he let you you’d fuck his brains out.

“I was denying myself of wanting you. You’re so sexy...” You bring your fingers up to his chin and force him to look at you. Your nose brushes against his and you plead him with your eyes.

“I can’t do this to you. Not after you watched that.”

“Tell me to go away and I’ll leave and never come back. I promise.” You lift your head from his shoulder and mouth against his lips and he slowly closes his eyes, savoring your proximity. Closing his mouth, he remains silent and you smile, leaning in to meet his lips.

It takes him some time to begin to kiss you back but when he does his tongue darts out to enter your mouth and cover you with his scent. His hand grips your hip and the other one holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You close your eyes, moaning and biting at his seeping mouth. Your hands come up to cup both sides of his face, feeling his cheekbones, tracing his jaw and allowing him to enter your mouth with his tongue. 

His breaths turn short as he probes and his hands slips under your sweater, squeezing your waist, massaging your hips and feeling your ass over the material of your pants. 

You grinded down on him instinctively. The friction makes you break away from the kiss to catch up on your breathing and mewl. Taehyung’s mouth immediately runs down to your jaw and your throat. He sucked every spot on your skin. His hand pressed against your lower back, the other one so big against your ass. He squeezed, roamed and sucked every part of you and no clothes had been discarded yet. He wanted to explore and grope your body as much as he possibly could. You continue to dry hump him, your sounds getting louder and your skin coating with a layer of sweat. 

He takes off your shirt and quickly unclasps your bra to free your breasts. He pulls at your hair to make your chest puff up, more accessible to his mouth. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and you physically shiver, jaw dropped. His saliva leaves a hot layer of drool that cools up when he switches to your other tit and your nipple hardens. He stares up at you, watching you writhe in pleasure, sighing in relief and praising him for how good he makes you feel. You’re extremely sensitive, not having had sex in a few months, not even a moment to jerk off.

He had waited for this moment for so long. You had been forced away from him to form one of the most traumatizing moments of your life and yet here you were, drooling over him and his tongue. You came in here thinking you’d leave feeling disgusted with your body.

“Ah, aha.” You continue to grind down on him and rub yourself on his clothed erection. 

“Take this off.” He tugs at your pants desperately and you comply, letting him do it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along your stomach and they leave goosebumps across your skin.

When your pants are off, you climb down his lap to take off his clothes, struggling to rip off his belt but eventually getting his trousers off. 

You admire the muscles on his chest and shoulders, taking in his abs and veiny arms. You were so turned on by the sight you moved back and spread his legs. Taehyung bit his lip as he reached for your hair and wrapped it in a ponytail with one big hand. You licked down from under his belly button all the way up to his necklace before delivering one last kiss to his lips and releasing his bulge from his boxers.

His pink tip slaps against his abs and you hear him audibly hiss. He twitches hard as you stare at it and the drool that forms in your mouth gathers. You spit on his head and lean down, arching your back to give him a good view of your ass as you sucked him dry. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you lick a hot, and long line down his dick. You tease him, watching his face cotort in painful pleasure as you take only his cock into your mouth and swirl it in your dripping mouth. Taehyung’s upper body jerks up slightly as you suddenly take him all the way.

You bob your head and gag, drooling more and more. The sound of your leaking throat fills the room. His dick is glossy with your saliva, all the way down to his balls that twitch when your throat tighten around his cock. Your eyebrows come together as you deliver one last mouthful an Taehyung can’t rip his eyes away from your mouth. You sustain it deep until you physically cannot, until your eyes roll all the way back and your stomach turns. You release him and gasp for air, wiping at your chin and the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His hand releases your hair and he pulls your body against his, your back to his chest. Your mind feels hazy and worn-out. Clearly you hadn’t given a blow job in a long while. 

Taehyung slips his hand into your underwear, the only piece of clothing left on your body. He digs his middle finger in between your pussy lips and the cold metal of his thick, gold ring makes your back arch.

“Fuck, fuck…” You whine and your lower stomach clenches and he plays with your drenched pussy. His hand slips out and he wraps each hand around the back of your knees, spreading your legs apart so that your pussy would be entirely open for him. He doesn’t waste time to rips your panties apart and he groans at the sight of your swollen, pulsing cunt. It glistens under the dim lights of his room. He spits on his hands and slaps it on your clit, rubbing a few, agonizingly slow circles thats make your body twitch. Your legs make a movement to close but his other hand grips at your inner thigh. 

He presses his mouth against your ear aggressively. 

“Shut your legs, and I won’t be gentle,” he growls, and your breath hitches at his sudden tone. A loud squelching sound echoes across the room when he finally enters two fingers. Your pussy sucks him whole, and you tighten around them, gasping and moaning. He moves them in and out slowly to loosen you up a little. The tension wears off after a while, and he delivers hushed praises to your ear, nibbling on it and, at times, sucking below your ear to suppress his own groans. 

His fingers speed up and become more rough by the second, his knuckles slapping against your pussy, creating a slimy sound that drown out even your own squeaks and moans. It’s rough and hard, his fingers dig in so deep and exit just as fast as they came in. Your walls become numb and all you can think about is the impending orgasm that you’re about to reach if he continues at this same pace.

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Your pussy’s so tight around my fingers,” He laughs mockingly. He pants and grunts as he continues to shove a third finger inside and your eyes roll back.

Taehyung’s attention, once on the scene of his hand torturing your cunt, turns to your face and your fucked out expression. His dick twitches as he watches you take his fingers, veiny and long, without much complaint. He releases the grip he had on your thigh to keep your legs spread and wraps it around your throat.

You’re already panting so he doesn’t tighten his grip until he feels your walls tightening, pushing him out.  You were extremely close.

“That’s it, baby. Squeeze me, tighten your walls around my fingers…” he groans, biting down on your shoulder. 

You begin softly sobbing as you finally come undone around his fingers, your legs twitching and closing around his hand. His hand grips your throat tighter as he demands against your shoulder in a very low voice, “Open your legs, Y/N.”

You comply, and Taehyung watches your orgasm travel out of your pussy, coating his fingers. He takes them out, and you lay back against his chest, eyes closed and tiredly catching up with your breathing. 

Taehyung doesn’t take his perverted stare away from your pussy. He cleans his fingers as you doze off and stands from his bed so your back is straight to avoid cramps. He stares at his hard-on and then down at you, who is now peacefully snoring. He chuckles, drying his fingers with a napkin before giving you one last glance to ensure you fell into a deep slumber. 

He walks up to one of the tall tables in his room and grabs the camera that was so casually propped  and hidden, facing his bed. 

He ends the recording and waits for the video to fully register into a file.

He smiles as it saves and he plays it back to the beginning.

--

AN: The end. Any theories on what truly went down that night? And no, I'm not writing more of this LMFAO but stay tuned for more content <3

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, occasionally sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 19 - ‘You’re Mine’

You were not as hopeless as your inner dialogue made you sound. You missed Trent so much your little heart hurt but you could live. You were busy with an array of things, you had gotten really active in local charities in Liverpool and initiatives especially Trent’s latest project launch. You had a degree from university that you didn’t really share with a lot of people around you but Trent obviously knew about it so your skill set came in handy. With the spare time you had you reached out to some contacts from your previous jobs you had put on hold back in New York. At the time you met Trent you were taking a little hiatus to just decompress. You were privileged enough to do that and well aware that is not something everyone could have the luxury of doing so once you got settled in England you started to connect with brands you worked with in the US that had UK offices. You got back into work freelance writing and styling. Your career before was in Fashion Editorial so it was an easy transition to get back into the swing of things. It made you feel better you were able to have a life outside of being Trent’s number one fan, even though that often was your favorite thing to be occupied with. Thankfully the two, Trent and work, were kept separated for the moment.

Before the tournament actually began you found that the little T- Bear Trent left for you just seemed to be with you 24/7. Tucked in bed with you every night, snuggled up on the couch watching television and as wonderful as that was, there was a certain part that this ‘T’ wasn’t able to… how do you put this… fulfill.

You were just about to whine down from the day but your hair and makeup were still done so you decided to take a few cheeky photos. A client, Agent Provocateur, a brand you adored, from an editorial piece you had worked on recently with them had gifted you some pieces of gorgeous lingerie. So you put on a little pink satin trimmed lace bra with a matching thong. The goal was to entice Trent obviously, but aside from that this set was making you feel confident which you seemed to be struggling with lately. You took some photos with the whole set on, some taking it off, some with it barely serving any purpose all while holding your new little bear. It was an incredibly sweet concept but far from innocent. You picked your favorites, ones you knew showed off things he’d enjoy so you sent them in a text unsolicited and unprovoked as you tucked into bed for the night. The little ‘delivered’ popped up under the sent photos and it quickly turned to ‘read.’ You knew he’d be excited to see them but there was always a little part of you that worried about how you actually looked in them, if he’d like them, and then of course about the potential consequences of sending such explicit photos when he’s at ‘work’ so you held your breath. He started to type and the three dots in the bubble appeared but stopped, started again only to disappear once again. The brief moment of confidence you had built started to waver. While you laid in your bed, a little disheartened, you put your phone far away from you to try to forget the situation until you heard the familiar ring of an incoming FaceTime.

“You’re such a tease, baby.” Trent rolled his perfect plump lips into a pout shaking his head but couldn’t really hold back the lustful grin he was really expressing. “I have training early tomorrow and you got me so fucking hard I can’t possibly get to sleep now.” He groaned. You sighed in relief that he did in fact really like your pictures.

“I’m sorry, T. I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just trying some things on and I thought you’d want to see. I didn’t mean to disrupt your night.” You feigned an apology playing coy.

“Nah, nah, nah you got me all worked up, miles away, sending me something I can’t have right now. You’re staying on the phone right now, helping me with this.” He sounded so commanding and it turned you on instantly.

“What can I help with, baby? To help, do you need me to keep this on or take it off?” You pulled the bra strap off your body to let it snap back against your skin.

“I wanna see more of you, beautiful. Take that off…Save that for when I can rip it off you myself and put your phone somewhere. I need to see all of you.” He instructed you so you leaned back against your headboard in front of your now propped up phone.

“This okay?” You asked craving his approval.

“Yeah, baby, just like that. You wanna spread your legs for me? Show me how wet you are.” He confirmed that was what he wanted to see. He began to stroke his cock from the tip to the base. His command had you stifling a moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. I miss you so much, T” you whimpered waiting for instructions till he asked for you to touch your clit, and then slowly slide your fingers into yourself. Just watching his cock get harder, hearing him pant on the other side of your phone had you inching closer to your release.

“Keep fucking that pussy,” he groaned. “Yeah, just like that, little faster, baby. Use your other hand and rub that clit again. Tell me how much you miss my cock.” His words had you crumbling. It was a cross between complete desperation, lust, and absence.

“I mi-miss it. I want your cock to fuck me, please. Ple..please I need your cock, T.” You whined. The tension and pressure released all at once causing you to whimper louder as waves of pleasure rippled through you. Your fingers coated in your slick. You couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, Trent repeatedly moaning your name as ropes of his cum spurted from his cock covering his abs. When you both came to, you smiled and wiggled in your bed giggling with him happy to feel the release but also to have achieved making him feel good from miles away.

“Fuck, that was so hot, you’re so beautiful, baby.” Trent said, laughing a little more while he cleaned himself up.

“I love you. Miss having you here with me so much.” You pouted. “Going to be able to sleep now?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay now, thank you.” He chuckled. “I’ll be saving those pictures though, I might need them till I get you back.”

“Yeah, yeah but I think a call may be a little more mutually beneficial.” You giggled. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Love you, pretty girl. Miss you so much. Night.” Pushing his lips out for a virtual kiss before he hung up the phone.

A week later and many similar FaceTimes, you and Dianne were going to the Euro’s. You were traveling for the first match of the tournament. You and Dianne had a great relationship. You had essentially become like a daughter. She spoiled you, she always defended you against the boys teasing, you spent a lot of time shopping together or sitting pitch side. You appreciated her so much for all she did for you since you arrived in Liverpool and loved the idea of a little trip together. You checked into a lovely hotel and settled into your separate rooms but planned to meet up for a breakfast in the morning before you headed off for the stadium tomorrow.

It was the opening match of the group stage and the place was buzzing. You hadn’t seen England play in a big tournament like this yet as Trent’s girlfriend so you didn’t really know what to expect. You hoped you had adapted to life as a ‘wag’ at Liverpool but this was a whole new lot. You had made friends with a few girls you’d met at international friendly matches, the boys you knew on the team, and were excited to be able to see some girls from Liverpool whose partners were playing for other countries. That said as much as you had watched the Euros countless times before, to be there felt so strange. Thank god Dianne was with you. You both had opted to match in Alexander-Arnold white England kit shirts. You kept your outfit pretty casual not wanting to draw too much attention given the mayhem that seemed to be ensuing lately with your every move relatively near a football pitch. ‘Casual’ is all relative though when you are a little bit of a fashion girly so; you paired T’s jersey with R13 Crossover denim shorts, white and gray Prada ‘Downtown’ sneakers, a Mui Mui gray fleece hoodie in case you got cold, your new, very sweetly gifted, navy Dior saddle bag and what felt like just about every piece of gold jewelry you owned; you’d be remiss to not be wearing your prized possession; the white gold diamond Van Clef necklace Trent gave you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. That was always going to be on and the myriad of other little bits and bobs of jewelry he'd given you over time. You liked the look, it felt authentically you: low key but if you looked close enough the finer details told another story and you liked that.

You promised Dianne you’d help up her ‘MaG’ match day fits. You two had started an inside joke considering you were Mum and Girlfriend for Trent in the stands. It was cute and you were elated to help. Outside the stadium, you stopped a girl around your age to take a photo for you with Dianne to keep for a memory and you got that special photo but it also transgressed into plenty of questions because the girl was a fan which was sweet but in turn the exchange was shared to your least favorite part of the internet lately… social football gossip pages.

‘Okay, ICL, Trent Alexander-Arnold’s mum and his presumed girlfriend holding hands walking into the stadium was precious. The mystery girl is definitely no mystery to the fam’

The girl who kindly took a photo for you outside the stadium had also shared with a fan page another photo she had taken unsolicited as you walked away with Dianne.

Dianne held onto your hand still as you walked through the corridors of the stadium while masses of people swirled around you. It was insane. Complete chaos. A familiar chaos, but chaos nonetheless. England had a strong team this year and people were excited to say the least. You made it to your seats and your heart filled with relief seeing the tan skinned pretty pretty boy, smiling beaming, warming up ahead of the match. You leaned onto Diane’s shoulder in repose.

“It’s the best feeling in the world seeing him happy doing what he loves.” Leaning her head on top of yours.

“I know, I feel lucky I get to witness it. Even just to be a small part of the whole experience.”

“Hun, you’re a big part. Things changed when you came to England for him. He’s emotionally never been in a better place.” She cooed.

“I hope so, I just want to be there for him as much as I can. I try not to let my emotions ever sway his, like when I miss him. I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long.” You joked a little because you referring to ‘so long’ was really in reference to from birth to this very moment and having to share her son globally.

“One thing I always know, he does miss us when he’s away. He doesn’t need to tell us but you know he will always, even as focused as he is for work. More specifically, he misses you sweetheart…so much.” She placed a kiss on head. “You make that boy's life outside of all this so much better for him. Easier, happier, calmer, healthier, I could go on… so thank you hun.” Her words had your heart bursting. You always had an open relationship but to get such a verbal confirmation felt really nice.

When a Trent fan account finally published the photo of you and Dianne walking into the stadium together the response was different to the usual wrath of hate you’d receive from the public on the likes of gossip news sites. Instead these fans were enthused by the sighting. Commenting…

‘I feel like she’s probably super sweet if she’s that close with his mum’

‘Seeing her with his family makes me feel like she’s actually a serious girlfriend’

‘Okay, ngl, she actually looks too cool for him lol’

‘Matching with his mum is so precious’

‘Imagine Trent being your boyfriend 😭’

‘She’s with his mum 🥺’

You couldn’t have asked for a better opening match. England dominated and Trent got a decent amount of minutes and during his time on the pitch he managed to assist Bukaya for an unbelievable goal. It was just icing on the cake to see him after a couple weeks, have the result go their way, and to have him play well. When the final whistle blew it was such a special feeling being surrounded by people who all felt just the same as you. It was a big family just supporting boys that had worked so tirelessly to get here, to represent their country. When the team had wrapped up some post match duties they were able to come over to the stands to meet up with their families after the stadium had cleared out. Trent walked over with a smile that made your heart melt. You leaned over the railing to give him the biggest kiss. His arms reached up to grab your face, yours falling around his neck. You both hummed at the satisfaction of being back together. The kiss felt like fireworks for you, your whole body ignited feeling his lips on yours. Trent’s body on the other hand fell into complete comfort and relaxation soothed by your touch.

“Missed you so much, baby.” He whispered his lips ghosting over yours.

“My T” you giggled, pressing one more peck before pulling apart.

“Lemme climb on up, pretty girl.” He needed to get off the pitch over into the stands so he did haphazardly because his body was exhausted.

“You were amazing, sweetie. So proud of you Trenty.” Dianne cooed, giving him a big tight hug. Diane stayed standing but Trent collapsed onto a seat in the stands burnt out.

“T, honestly so good. You were incredible.” Leaning over to give him another kiss. You sat next to him and he wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head onto your shoulder. He pressed light kisses to it and you did the same to his temple. Dianne stood there talking to you both about the match before going over to talk to Jude Bellingham’s mum, Denise, after spotting her now the match had finished. With the idea of being alone with you, despite being surrounded by friends, family and teammates, Trent sprawled out across a row of seats and laid his head in your lap. You caressed his face and played with his hair while you two gushed about how much you missed each other. He was practically stuck to you. He couldn’t pull his hands or lips off your skin if he tried. Kissing your wrists as they moved over his face, pulling your face down for proper kisses every once in a while, purring as your nails scratched his scalp.

“Trent, come here quick.” Dianne yelled for him evoking a disgruntled face on the boy who had gotten quite comfortable back under your touch. So he stood up and made his way over to talk to the two mums. Despite telling him you’d stay put, he dragged you with him, pushing you in front of him while his hands wrapped around your waist. He kept his chin on your shoulder listening to his mum while his idle fingers played with the belt loops of your shorts. You introduced yourself to Denise who was as kind as her sons were. You’d met and spent a lot of time with both her boys since you moved to England, knowing how polite they were, it made sense she’d be that way as well.

“Going to do a lunch after the group stage with them, five of us, yeah?” Dianne was informing you and Trent about a plan she and Denise had made to go out before the England Team were hosting a little party for all the families.

“That sounds lovely!” You cheerfully smiled liking the idea of getting time together away from other than just seeing the boys from a distance on the pitch. Trent didn’t say anything, he just smiled seeing you smile. He missed the way your cheeks warmed when you did. Jude waddled his way up the stairs of the seats sore from the game coming up to you all, first giving a hug and kiss to his mum, then to Diane and then looked at you, smiled, and then rolled his eyes at Trent who was lost still gazing at you.

“Gonna let go for a minute so we can all say hello?” Jude joked removing Trent’s hands stuck to your body.

“Hi Judey” you giggled giving him a big hug. Lately he and Trent were together most of the time when league play was suspended for breaks and he found himself back in England so you had gotten close. He was coming on your holiday after the tournament. The holiday had funnily become a little bit of a boys trip that included you and your best friend, but moreover Trent obviously, Marcel was coming, Jude, and Jobe, his brother, had decided to tag along, and then a few other boys. You didn’t mind but it was a little comical now. Jude could sense the humor in it and knew your relationship well enough that you just were dying to be laying on the beach with Trent, alone, unbothered, but that more than likely wouldn’t be the case now.

“All good? Ready for this to be over?” You pulled out of his hug rolling your eyes at his comment as he sat down in front of you leaning on the back of a seat a row below you.

“What do you mean! Very excited to be here for the next two weeks” you beamed sarcastically.

“It worries me how good you are at lying. It’s unsettling for my brother” he shoved at your shoulder while glancing at Trent.

“No, seriously! I am actually really excited. This is amazing though. You played so well, lucky to be supporting England.” You clarified.

“Yeah, just don’t open your mouth too much and you might pass as one of us.” Jude teased about your accent but was quickly reprimanded by Denise. She scolded Jude telling him to be nicer and you just smiled relishing in the mum's protection over you.

The boys had to go back to the dressing room after getting to say hello which was bittersweet and came all too quickly. Luckily in a few days time they’d be out of the group stages and would have a few days off so you could see Trent then but right now you had to say bye.

“Call me tonight?” You cooed, draping your arms around Trent’s neck, his arms coming to drop low on your waist pulling his jersey you had on up to caress your skin, dipping his hands into your shorts slyly.

“Course, baby. I’m just so glad you’re here.” He whispered, pulling your body a little closer to his pushing his hips into you.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, T.” You quietly said back pressing your nose against his.

“Love you, beautiful” he said with a little peck to your lips.

“I love you.” You sealed with another kiss. Your focus only on each other.

“Honestly, enough. I’m going without you.” Jude dramatically but in, hitting Trent’s arm before proceeding to stand up. Trent said goodbye to the mums, and you again with another swift but sweet kiss and a sneaky squeeze to your ass cheek before hurrying after Jude. He turned and winked at you before disappearing down the tunnel.

Later that evening, the England Instagram account posted a carousel of families reuniting after the first win of the tournament. None directly featured you, Diane or Trent but behind a photo posted of the Bellingham family were you and Trent having a cuddle while sharing a sweet kiss. There definitely was a fair share of comments who caught the affectionate interaction. In turn, cropped images of the photo, zooming in on you two, blew up all over socials again,

‘They’re not even trying anymore lol’

‘I’m happy for them 🥹’

‘Trent, I don’t need to see you cheating on me like this’

‘To kiss that sweaty man, I’d die’

‘Still just avoiding cameras, like fam, we know your together lol’

You and Diane continued going to the remaining group stage matches with England performing well. Trent even bagging a goal so the brief moments seeing him after the games were just so special. Being so close but unable to properly be alone and cuddle or kiss was slightly driving you both insane. So you spent the nights apart FaceTiming only mere hotels, short distances apart. Trent would vent about the games and you listened intently trying your best to not add unnecessary additions to the already noisy commentary he was surrounded by, you’d joke around, if there wasn’t a game directly the following day, things would get a little steamier on the call but overall you just repeated how much you missed being back at home together. More often than not you two just stayed on the phone till you both fell asleep making one of you wake up hours later and having to end the call that had been ongoing for hours of just your sleeping faces lit by phone screens.

As expected the England team finished top of their group so they were to have a few days off before the knockout stage began which meant you got to spend some time with your T. He did have to go to a short morning training session after last night's game but he was coming to meet you and his mum at your hotel to see you both after. You always grappled with sharing Trent but his mom was an exception, she deserved all his time and attention so you were hoping for a little sliver. He met you later in the day after the training session in a tea room of the hotel you and Dianne were staying at and joined you for brunch. Somehow if it was even possible, Trent walked in and looked even more beautiful than he ever did. He seemed to have that effect on you. It didn’t matter if it had been 5 minutes when he’d walk to the kitchen and back or days since you last saw him but when he’d return he somehow looked even more handsome than before. His mum stayed seated and she gave him a little side hug. You opted to stand up to give him a tight hug, you missed his warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and his familiar amber smell engulfed you. You could’ve stayed there forever. You kissed his neck gently, subtly, and quietly to keep it hidden from his mum but Trent wasn’t having that.

“Erm…I’d like a proper kiss, beautiful.” He beamed with a big smile, his lips pushing out waiting for you. His hands slid up from around your waist to hold both your cheeks. He placed a heart stopping kiss on your lips and you felt your legs almost give out. He was like a dream all the time. You finally sat and had a nice little meal filled with conversation more so about what was happening back at home than football, he wanted the break from the intensity. When Dianne excused herself to run to the restroom, Trent pulled your chair a little closer to his. He placed another kiss on your cheek.

“What’d you doing, pretty boy?” You cooed, unable to hide the smile he was pulling from you and the flush rising in your cheeks smitten by his flirty move.

“Wanna be closer to my girl” his hand came and wrapped around the back of your neck stroking his thumb over your exposed skin. In your Trents true fashion he had shown up with a little gift for you. “Got you a little something, baby.”

“T!! You don’t always have to do this!” You quipped in feigned annoyance. You gestured to the Dior Saddle bag you were using today again but it still always was a little exciting “I don’t need anything. I just need this.” You said, moving your hand over his resting on his leg, playing with each of his fingers slowly. It was true, just being close to him was enough for you but nevertheless he pulled out a little box.

“Just so you don’t forget where you’re loyaly lies on match days, yeah?” You opened the little jewelry box that had a Monica Rich Kosann locket that opened with two little pictures; one of you and T hugging in the tunnel at Anfield in his Liverpool kit, the other of you and him sharing a cute kiss in his England uniform. It just made you melt. He was so thoughtful and cute. “I know you're technically only half American but don’t you forget whose you are, beautiful. You’re all mine.”

“I’m pretty sure I know who I’ll be rooting for always. Always yours.” You said giggling, “but thank you, baby. I love it and I love you” leaning your head on his shoulder nuzzling into that familiar smell as his arm wrapped around you. He pressed light kisses on your head while you whispered little mushy things back and forth. When Dianne returned she smiled entering the main room seeing that her departure caused your chairs to move inexplicably closer. She liked to see that her very reserved boy found someone to be so comfortable, protective, confident and unequivocally in love with. She sat back down but it wasn’t long until she excused herself again.

“I need a little rest, a shower, and some time to get ready for tonight to keep up my ‘MaG’ looks so I’m going to head up.” She stood up from the table, placing her napkin down, pushing her chair in and placing her hand gently on yours briefly.

“MaG?” Trent questioned, looking between you and his mum for some context on the inside joke he was clearly left out of.

“Don’t worry about it” you laughed in Dianne’s direction telling her if she needed you to text you but she just wanted to let you and Trent to spend some time alone together.

“Thank you hun!” She kissed Trent’s head and squeezed your arm. “I’ll see you both a little later on before we meet with Denise and her boys.” You said your goodbyes but you stayed a little longer cuddled up as close as you can be in a restaurant setting picking at little sandwiches and sweets. Eventually, Trent and you finally left and went up to your room where he dramatically crashed on the bed, rushing to get under the covers like a little boy because he was ‘so tired.’

“T! T! Shoes! Gross!” You squealed, pulling at his arms to get him out and off your freshly cleaned hotel bedding.

“Wowwwww already asking me to take my clothes off. Eager much, baby?” He teased starting to get out of the bed begrudgingly.

“No…no, well” you blushed at his words. “I wouldn’t complain but I just meant if you could not get my bed all dirty I would appreciate it” you gave a genuine smile and a sweet giggle that made his heart falter.

“So you don’t want to be dirty in bed?” he sat up on the bed with a cheeky and devious smile, his legs hung off the side and he held his arms out for you. You moved over and stood between his legs, his hands caressed up your back pulling your shirt up with them, “With me? Not even me baby?” He gave you a look that made you cave immediately. You let him pull your shirt off over your head and after he did your hands reached out to pull his off.

“I missed this body. You’re so fucking beautiful. Been dreaming of this.” He said, dragging the strap of your bra down off your shoulder.

“Dreaming of what, T? What do you need?” You cooed with a sly smirk as your hands played with the waistband of the skirt you still had on.

“I need all of this…” sliding the mini skirt down your legs. “off right now.” He said gently, his words dripping like honey, his hands moving in slow motion. Making your skin burn.

You were standing in front of him completely naked now. He sat back resting on his arms behind him on the bed. The hotel room light cast over you illuminating the dips of your collarbones, highlighting the rise of your tits, the smoothness of your skin. Trent stared in awe just about drooling over his girl.

“Baby, I’m gonna need you here right now.” He said pulling your waist towards him. You sat with your legs on both sides of his and straddled him, feeling his prominent bulge growing harder and harder beneath your wet core.

“And I’m going to need these off, T.” You said pulling off his trousers. In quick motions all clothing was removed, Trent had flipped you over to be on top of you making out passionately, whispers and gasps of ‘I love you’ and ‘missed this so much’ muddled in between messy, sloppy, yearning kisses. You spit a little on your hand and gently gilded it up and down the length of his cock. His fingers slid between your folds gathering your wetness to play with your clit while he dipped two in to help stretch you out.

“Shit, that feels so good, sh-shit, I’m not gonna last very long, it's been a while without you. You’re so fucking tight” Trent was panting, losing focus at just the feeling of you.

“Baby, I need you so bad, can we just ju-just. Please I miss you so much T.” You were moaning as his languid fingers circled your clit begging for him to fuck you. His mouth nipped down your neck before his tongue circled and licked around your hard nipples eliciting a whimper of pleasure from you.

“Yeah, yeah, sweet girl. I’m gonna give you whatever you need.” He groaned. In swift motions he slowly aligned his cock with your core and slid into you. You both gasped at the contact. He moved slowly inch by inch but he just wanted to get as deep as possible. He missed this feeling like nothing else. His thick cock hit your g spot almost immediately once he was in. He felt so deep and the stretch of him being back inside you had your mind turn to complete mush. You lost any control you had when he was fully inside. The force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of both your moans. “You’re such a good girl, so fucking wet for me.” He said hearing the sounds of your slick as he dragged his cock slowly out of you and watched himself push all the way back thrusting harder. Your legs wrapped around him. You were whining in pleasure. Your lips parted gasping at the sensation of him. You both were moaning inexplicable phrases of praise, love, and adoration. You were completely obsessed with each other and how good the sex was only amplified it.

“Oh my fu-fucking god, T, you feel so good.” You felt tears fill your lash line. His cock rammed deep inside you again and again, hitting a spot only he knew, while his finger pressed rough circles around your clit. He dipped his head a little and played with your nipples more, pulling at them and biting. You could barely handle the sensory overload so you bit harshly onto his shoulder to try to quiet your moans.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s so perfect for me. Taking me so well.” He growled moving to nibble at your ear, his hot breath on your skin had your orgasm approaching faster and faster. He pulled back nearly all the way out and hammered back in. Tears started to roll down your cheek. Your arms wrapped around his body so tight your nails were digging into his skin leaving deep crescent marks while Trent continued to fuck you at an inhuman pace.

“I missed you, I missed this. You feel so fucking good. I want this forever.” You babled as your legs started to tremble. Your orgasm was getting closer and closer. Your eyes rolled back as you heard him moan your name again, again, and again.

You were getting lost in the pleasure that your T was giving to you while he was just as infatuated by your body and the sounds you were making had him fighting to not cum without you getting to orgasm first.

“You have me forever.” He whispered barely getting the words out softly in your ear. In a split second you felt your pussy spasm at the tenderness of his words and his rough strokes. You soaked his cock completely when you felt his release fill you up so much, it began to seep out while he was still inside. He laid on top of you for a while before he spoke again.

“I’m so addicted to you, beautiful. Can’t be away from you like this.” He murmured laying on your chest completely exhausted

“I guess we’re both addicts then” you giggled tracing your fingers up his spine. He continued laying there just holding you. You kissed him slowly. You were both so tired in the hotel room. “My sleepy, sleepy, needy boy.” You cooed, pressing your lips on his warm skin. You were so authentic with each other. Being back together felt like a saccharine summertime daydream. Feeling your New York daydream turned into your reality. Your love was undiluted, nothing felt better than being physically connected like this .

“We have to go soon, baby.” Trent finally picked his head up to nuzzle into your neck placing kisses all over your skin. If you could bottle this feeling forever you would, it was worth more than its weight in gold.

“I just want another cuddle, pleaseee” you whined childishly and in turned caused Trent to just let all his body weigh on top of you and wrap his arms so tight around you thought you couldn't breathe but the sound of his joyful laugh had you able to completely disregard the bone crushing pressure and just relish in the moment. You wanted to hear him happy, you wanted to see that beautiful smile pull across his face, the smile lines wrinkle, his little dimples appear so you let it ensue. Eventually you both got up and started to get dressed to meet with the Bellinghams; Denise, Jude, and Jobe at the restaurant and to meet Dianne downstairs at the hotel.

Trent needed to shower but you opted not to because your hair would take too long to do if you did which disappointed Trent because he claimed he needed your ‘help’ but in reality he just wanted another round of messing about to his disappointment you held your ground. Instead you began your skincare and makeup at the vanity in the hotel bathroom before moving back to the bedroom and sitting with a pout looking at your suitcase confused.

“What do you think I should wear? I don’t know Denise that well and I don’t know what people have said about me so I don’t want to like… I don’t know, mess up.” You nervously babbled rummaging through your suitcase on the floor.

“You look beautiful in anything.” Trent picked you up off the ground to give you a hug still wet from his shower.

“That’s incredibly unhelpful, T, seriously.” He placed a kiss on your forehead to try to calm your nerves. “Erm… I’m wearing this,” said showing you the outfit he had layed out of the bed. “If that helps at all.”

“Baby… I picked that out though” so you both started laughing.

Because you were going to the England team’s event after you wanted to be a little ‘on theme’ but not exactly sporting Saint George’s cross. You picked a pair of white linen trousers from Cult Gaia, a navy and white striped knit tank from Kule, paired with a Bottega Veneta mini sunrise bag in red, you also opted to bring a Jacquemus denim jacket in case you got cold. Oh! And of course shoes so red Manolo Blahniks were the choice. Your boobs were on display a little bit from not wearing a bra with the top but having a jacket would be a good cover. The pants fit your waist perfectly and when standing showed off your incredible figure. You wanted to be casual so your shoe choice was flats. Once you were dressed you walked over to help fix the collar of Trent’s shirt. He wore tailored khaki cargo style pants, a white t-shirt, a Rhude button up open overtop and a pair of Louis Vuitton trainer sneakers.

“You’re so so so handsome. It’s a little unfair.” You said as he stood in front of a full length mirror inspecting his outfit and you went and wrapped your hands around his biceps and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I have to keep up with you don’t I?” He cheekily said, squeezing his hands around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

You went to the lobby and Dianne asked if you wanted a photo, well she wanted one of you two, you obliged not particularly upset about capturing memories. Trent and you took a few and Dianne gushed over how beautiful she thought you both were. You had Dianne send them to you and Trent but neither of you posted the photo. Your camera rolls were filled with photos like this that never saw the light of day only when they were printed and hung in the house or a rare occasion where you’d post a more subtle pic of you holding hands walking down the street in your fits like you did tonight.

You held hands as you walked down cobble streets till you saw the Brummie Bellingham family waiting outside the restaurant for dinner. The group of the three boys, two mums, and yourself filed into the restaurant and per usual heads began to turn. Trent was one thing but Jude out in public was another animal… the two of them together; Pandora’s box. You sat at a table nestled in the back of a nice restaurant, you were relieved your outfit of choice was appropriate. To no one’s surprise, you sat close to Trent. One part of the table had a booth for seating and you took his lead so Trent helped you slid in before he followed. Your thighs were touching immediately, one hand wrapped around your waist low with his thumb in between the fabric of your trousers and your skin. The other gripped high on your leg till he needed to use it to look at a menu. Trent, Jude, Jobe honed in on some conversation regarding a referee error that happened in another countries group match. You nodded your head following along, you had seen the story, and Trent had explained it at length. Trent pulled on your waist to get you to be a little closer to him so you gave into his wishes and placed your head on his shoulder. He placed a kiss onto your hair in between sentences. Dianne and Denise were talking about something you couldn’t really hear but they were engrossed in their own back and forth until Dianne tapped at your hand that was resting on the table top.

“Hmm?” You picked up your head with a smile turning towards her. Trent unphased with his hand still gripping you tight.

“Come talk with us sweetheart.” She cooed, gesturing her head towards the other side of the table. You didn’t need his permission but you looked at Trent peeling his fingers off your waist to slide over to talk to the mums before whispering in his ear.

“Okay?” You asked with no real expectation for an answer you just wanted to note what you were doing.

“You can only listen to so much hun.” Denise spoke with a smile you hadn’t really seen her crack yet. Another mum of only boys made you nervous.

“It’s fine, I think when I hit the 15th time discussing the same call, I start to check out a little.” You giggled picking up a glass of wine, bringing it slowly to your lips holding it there a little longer after your sip.

“I understand that, imagine over 20 years of football chaos all day every day. It’ll never end.” Dianne and Denise laughed reminiscing about going from grassroots teams to the biggest stadiums in the world with their little boys.

“I don’t mind. I do actually love football…” you paused and giggled a little before your gaze drifted away from them to Trent. “Maybe not to the same extent of course but it’s nice when people are passionate about something, really love, devote, and care about it.” Your eyes fell back towards them but more so to the table where you played with the rings on your fingers. Trent felt your gaze but missed the connection so he reached over a little and linked his pinky with your hand that was on the seat of the booth before giving you a soft smile. Denise and Dianne watched the exchange and the way your words softened talking about being passionate and what it meant to really love something catching that it wasn’t maybe only about football but about someone sitting at the table who was playing football.

“I heard you followed football before you moved here, is that right?” Denise asked, giving you a sweet smile.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always been something my dad and I bonded over, had a connection with, I actually played till I was around 16 or so but didn’t really want to play at university so it faded out but when I got older following a team with my dad really kept us close and that’s important to me. We’ve created some of the best memories together at matches.” You rambled a bit, maybe it was the wine, or just panic trying to speak to Denise but you felt a little on edge.

“You did not play footie! That’s bullshit.” Jude’s head turned towards you.

“Jude…” Denise gave a stare that if it was directed at you, you’d probably cry but he just shrugged.

“Sentiment still stands, I don’t believe that.” Jude scoffed.

“Nah, she did! Kept the little secret in her back pocket for a while.” Trent confirmed it was in fact true with a little chuckle.

“Okay, well I wasn’t going to walk up to you people who do it professionally and be like ‘oh I played too!’ That’s embarrassing.” You sarcastically swayed your head back and forth making fun of how ridiculous it would’ve been.

“It still would’ve been interesting to know.” Jobe piped up and it made you smile. You just wanted to pinch his cheeks but he was older than that, definitely not as naive as he played but truly was adorable.

“Thanks, Jobe” you gave him a heartfelt smile. “Jude, you just listening in on our conversation?” You teased picking up your fork and pointing it at him.

“Nah, nah, you’re not all that interesting.” Jude pointed his fork at you emphasizing ‘you’ while he rolled his eyes.

“I’d say otherwise but each their own.” You imitated the same shrug he did earlier.

“You’ve had quite a whirlwind couple of years though sweetheart, at least from what I’ve heard. What did you do before you moved to the UK?” Denise, now interested in how you ended up at this dinner table and that there were things her boys were even still learning about.

“Oh, um, I went to university for a degree and then worked in fashion for a little and in what felt like a blink of an eye I ended up here.” You smiled, oversimplifying your backstory.

“Wow, Hun! Pretty, smart, funny, pushes back against my Jude. Trenty, you’ve got a good one.” Denise cooed looking at Trent whose eyes were still fixed on you from when you were speaking.

“Yeah, absolutely perfect. Worth getting her to move countries innit” Trent gushed eyes still stuck on you before sliding your body back over to him to wrap his arms around your frame placing a little peck on your neck.

“Done well” Dianne cooed, smiling at Trent’s clear obsession while taking a sip from her glass.

“Well then you’ve suddenly become my default to keep all the boys in line on this Greece holiday.” Denise joked a little but it was laced with a bit of seriousness.

“I always do, she’s been looking after mine for a bit now.” Dianne creased, the two mums were having a laugh themselves so you let it play out. The bulk of dinner wrapped up and Denise and Dianne decided they’d let the four of you get up to some nonsense without them so they said their goodbyes, hugs and kisses, and started to walk away from the table.

“Di, he is in love with that girl.” Denise quietly spoke to Dianne as they walked.

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s mutual too, think she’s more shy about the affection because he’s in his element or spaces he’s already familiar with but it’s totally infatuation all the time”

“Think they want to get married?” Denise asked the blatant question.

“I know Trent would, he’s slyly mentioned looking at rings but I keep my mouth shut.” Diane smiled just keeping her eyes forward as Denise glanced back at the table.

“It’s the only way we get any information now, just being quiet I swear” Denise laughed at the reality of their situations.

“She’s so good for him and he’s good to her. They make each other so happy, their house is gorgeous and so warm. It makes my heart full that they built this all from some whirlwind interaction.” She paused having a think. “Oh, god, you know what, yeah I’d really want that for them. Whole family loves that girl to bits.” Dianne babbled getting caught in the idea of what the future had in store for you and Trent.

You and the three boys decided to grab the check but go to the bar, you didn’t really need to sneak Jobe in with you like you normally would with a younger boy just being with Jude and Trent was like going anywhere with a free pass so it was no problem.

On cue, a few girls approached asking for photos with the boys so you happily helped take some for them. They wanted individual photos with Jude and then Trent. When one girl was posing for her photo with Trent she was a little bit more handsy than you cared for but it was only a photo so you bit your tongue. She wrapped her arm around his waist and placed her palm over his chest like a couple may pose. Jobe gripped your shoulder with his hand sensing the tension as you tapped away taking the photos on her phone. Even he knew it was probably a step too far on the girls' part. The other girl waiting for her turn for photos with Jude and Trent squealed a little.

“Literally you look like a couple! You’d be so cute together.” The fan said with a cheeky wink to her friend. Jude was quick to cut the encounter, none of you wanted to make a big deal but it still didn’t make you feel great.

“Alright darling, you want your picture with me too or just Trentski, C’mere” Jude cooed with false flirtation. The girl detached and Jobe said he’d take the remaining photos. You were polite and smiled to the girls and let them know if they needed you to take more you would but Trent walked up to you and draped his arms over your shoulder, his hands caressing the back of your head before you could really do anything else.

“Getting jealous, pretty girl?” Pressing his nose against yours. “Hmm, baby?” His lips pulled into a sly smile. You leaned in and rested your head on his chest before you started pressing light kisses over his shirt up to his collarbone and then his neck, all the way to his ear.

“Don’t like seeing you with someone else,” you quietly admitted. “You’re mine, baby.” You pouted your lips, he couldn’t see but could probably feel them roll against his skin. He grabbed both your cheeks and held your face out in front of his. You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. He teased you a little bit pressing small kisses to your neck now the same way you did to him but his were heavy with a more sensual motive. He heard you purr a little at the sensation so he took it a step further and began whispering against your sensitive skin about what he was going to do to you back in your hotel room; his words interspersed by kisses. You tried to hold back a moan before pulling him in for a proper kiss needing one to hold you over knowing you were in for a long night of cheeky hand placements and sultry kisses until you made it back to the promised land i.e your hotel room.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next Part - Chapter 20 xx

[biggityboppingboob]

WARNING: SMUT- MINORS, ANYONE UNDER 18, DNI

includes: smut! vanilla, levi x reader, big sappy smut. very lovely though in my opinion. hope you do not think it’s garbage!!! i left more to the imagination as im trying to be more subtle with my writing so i’d love your thoughts!!!

commander smith attempted to recruit me ever since eren jaeger formally committed to the scouts. it was the talk of the whole military that there was a titan in our ranks. i was a garrison scientist and intelligence strategist, and worked closely with hange on inter-jurisdictional matters. but i could tell erwin was trying to close ranks.

it was evident things were getting tense. erwin’s communication regarding a transfer started as simple- notes and sending their cadets in an attempt to convince me. as of late, it transitioned to commander pyxis coming into my office asking if i wanted to be reassigned.

hence how i ended up with the commander in my quarters, attempting to convince me to join the scouts. clearly commander pyxis knew something i didn’t and he encouraged me to take the reassignment.

“i understand you don’t want to, doctor,” commander pyxis started placating me as i leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, “but think about the good humanity.”

it wasn’t long after i was convinced to change assignments. pyxis knew my scientific mind craved the answers and the salvation of humanity, just as his did. but i was not a fighter the way the scouts were, i was a strategist. my fighting specialized in hand to hand combat and as a scout, hand to hand isn’t very useful.

somehow, i ended up studying sawney and bean with hange not a few days later. captain levi was a combative ally. he wanted it done his way, or no way. but i admired that in him, and i wasn’t much different. i was working with him and hange on the closest levels in the beginning, with erwin’s direct supervision.

hange and i grew close from the start- they were a wonderful friend and i was impressed by their scientific mind. my science specialized in human medicine, psychology, and regeneration more than titan science.

upon our first mission outside the walls, i understood why erwin kept things locked down- there was another titan shifter in the mix. a female titan.

but this was eons ago. it felt as though this was a different life. i quickly developed a better ability to kill titans, but was reserved for only a last resort. armin, hange, levi and i were the scouts’ strategist following the death of commander erwin. now, our goals were to expand and explore. with our knowledge of marley, we knew what we needed to do.

i remembered the first time i saw the sea as levi, hange, and the remainder of the veteran scouts walked down the streets of marley. walking along the coastal shopping center was a freeing experience, even though the citizens of marley would rage knowing who we were.

levi stood to my left, a hand on the small of my back. it was the smallest of touches, but its the way levi said ‘i love you’.

levi and i were strong, and requited, but unable love the way we wished to. so much death followed the scouts and i saw how it plagued the captain as he felt responsible for the young scouts. he felt as though the future of the world rested with them, and he was their vessel to safety. hange and i felt the same, but only hange had caught levi and i engrossed in each other one night after we claimed to be on a fact finding mission, but we were in fact in the alley next to the safehouse.

levi’s touch always set my body aflame. i could never tell if it was just because the touch was rare, or if i just truly loved him so. i was the only one to say i love you, i always thought those words terrified levi, as if they were a curse. the little touches, the exchanged glances, the preparation of my dinner plate and tea, those were levi’s ‘i love you’.

today we saw a marleyan wedding today. a woman in an elaborate gown, and music, the joyous cheers of a new couple and their new life together. it made me sad- levi and i would never be able to be those people. our lives were set to end in the name of the fight for humanity, against our human enemies now.

the remainder of the day spent looking for intelligence and leads proved to be fruitful but it was grueling work. i had taken to the study to research any and all information we heard. armin took the first shift, i took the second so he could rest.

it was the middle of the night when levi came into the study. i didn’t know he was there until he set his hand on mine, distracting me from the reading and the map.

“hi, sweetness,” i smiled at him, tired, and turned towards him.

“come sit,” levi said, pulling me from the small desk in the corner, small and cluttered with maps and books to the couch next to the window.

“is everything alright?” i asked and stretched through a yawn before crossing my legs over levi’s lap.

“i saw how sad you were today,” he started quietly, “when we saw the wedding,”

i frowned, and looked down at my hands. “levi-“

he cut me off. “there is a world that exists where we are husband and wife, and a world where us hiding from enemies in a safe house is not even a thought in our mind. it just isn’t this one,”

i sighed. the moonlight shining from the window to my left would have given away the tears forming in my eyes if i didn’t blink them away. levi didn’t need to see my

heartbreak.

“there is not a day that goes by that i do not wish we lived in that world,” levi continued. “and i am so sorry that you have to sit here and exist in my life this way, and i in yours. you are wholly good, just like those kids.”

i ran a hand through my hair and huffed.

“levi we don’t need to talk about this,” i frowned and bit my lip with a shrug. he was studying my reaction, “i understand.”

the man was quiet for a moment. he looked from me, to the floor, then back to me.

“i love you,” he spoke slowly. the words were foreign i could tell. “in this life, and the next.”

physical intimacy for us was rare- emotional intimacy even more coveted and holy.

i got to my knees and looked at him. i could see the fear in his eyes of rejection. humanity’s strongest soldier fearful of the word ‘love’ as if he did not slay beasts.

“there is not a world,” i spoke slowly. our faces were close together, and i brushed the hair from his face that blocked his eyes from mine, “where my soul does not find yours,”

levi looked like i had given him the cure to all disease. it was as if his world was saved.

i placed a chaste and gentle kiss to the man’s cheek before returning to my seat against the back of the sofa but was stopped by levi’s hand on my thigh. it was tense, but of a different kind. not the fight for humanity, not the humans outside.

“let me love you the way i would love you after our wedding day. let me love you as my wife,” levi spoke after we searched each other’s face for an answer. we both processed how foreign those words tasted. it was almost tangible how uncomfortable he was sharing such an intimate thought, it was out of character for anyone else who knew him.

i could have cried. levi’s soul was gentle and kind. when erwin brought him to the surface to be a scout instead of letting him rot underground, he raised levi from perdition. levi was free now. but with our circumstances, the time for us to share that, for me to see him at his kindest and most gentle, was rare. rare wasn’t the right word, but i wasn’t able to find another word as levi touched me. it was slow, as if he was worried i’d startle.

armin would always tell stories of the sea, and of rivers of fire, and of rocks so large they took days to climb. i wonder if this sort of love was ever documented, put on film. i wondered if the rest of the world had the privilege of knowing such love.

levi kissed me as if i wouldn’t be there when he woke up tomorrow. as if this was the last time we’d ever share a bed- or in this case, a couch. the sex we had before was different, this was as if the world was going to end and we wanted to remember each other like this, always.

i wasn’t wearing much, a comfortable nightgown and a sweater which was easily removed by levi. the harsh air made my skin tighten and stand up, to which levi’s hands warmed and soothed.

it wasn’t long before levi followed suit, his pajamas which appeared very similar to his scout uniform, were discarded along the far side of the couch.

his tongue trailed down my neck as he gently placed kisses, leaving a tacky trail. i was on my back on the couch, levi between my thighs with his hands on my hips.

levi’s tongue had never felt so good on me. it was as if a man starved had been gifted bread by a stranger. it was no longer me and levi as two people, it was our bodies mixed and molded as i bucked against his face.

remaining quiet became difficult but i had to remember that the rest of the scouts slept less than fifteen feet from us and that these walls were not that thick.

climax came quickly. levi and i hadn’t been this intimate since we had gotten to marley, there had been no way to find the privacy. i felt levi procure my body with his tongue the way an artist cleans brushes before marking a canvas.

my hands detached from levi’s hair, and he quickly was on top of me. his pale excellence shone in the moonlight behind us as he situated himself, teasing my entrance with his tip, beaded with precum. without a second thought i wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him close.

the fullness i felt with levi inside of me was comforting. it was my anchor to the planet earth as i made love to levi. every thrust sent me closer to the edge and levi wasn’t far behind. his hands were all over me, and i felt his thrusts falter. his breath was deep, and he smelled of soap, his cologne and sex.

sweat began to accumulate at his brow, and i felt my body begin to mold under his hands. his tongue found my nipple, tracing the hard bud in circles as his hard pubic bone slammed against my clit.

i bit down on my lip hard, trying to not cry out as i took levi in his entirety.

“you’re so beautiful, pretty girl, i love you so much,” he moaned breathily as he fucked inside of me. i could feel his cock twitching, begging for release. “cum for me sweet girl,”

i did as i was told. my whole body felt as if it melted into the couch, the reverberations of how hard i came rippling through my body as levi followed suit.

except it seems he forgot to not finish inside of me.

it was silent for a moment, we laid there, our limbs intertwined and entangled. although we lived in this world, full of monsters and beasts and death, it was a privilege to walk with levi as a lover. there is not a universe in existence where we are not each other’s.